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inkblossom
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Name: kat caboin
Country: United States
State: Washington
Metro: Bellingham
Birthday: 3/17/1990
Gender: Female
Interests: music, both mine and others', (NIRVANA, mastodon, iron maiden, led zeppelin, black sabbath, judas priest, the doors, and rainbow are tops. if you care more, just look at the "listening to".) words, both mine and others',; art; spirituality; evolution of the individual; peace; love; unity; community; anything with a little soul. and sexual health. i think i'll major in that.
Expertise: survival, procrastination, scribbling, being the indecisive pisces that i am.
Occupation: homo-sapien
Industry: earth
Message: message meEmail: email me
Website: visit my website
Member Since:
9/9/2004
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|  | Currently
The Weirdness
By The Stooges
my idea of fun (is killing everyone. now is the season for war without reason.)
see related |
i was a brave person at the counseling center today, thanks to brian holding my hand. i even told annemarie about smoking and watching south park to mask the pain.
nothing kathartic yet. i was shakey and flight-or-fight-y the entire time. but it felt better. i even talked about sonny and my desire/fear of death.
i have another appointment next friday morning. here's to hope and healing.
i don't know why i'm so freaked out about work tomorrow. i need the hours.
i need to write my fucking lousy paper.
i have for a while.
i love veterens.
six-pack remains on my mind. does he ever leave?
fuck that shit.
giving my concentration to my entire committee. wish me lots and lot of luck, love, health, and happiness.
i'd like to think that people would. | | |
| dear zach,
after reading a bunch of old notebook ramblings from our haydays and the first month-or-so of college, i have come to a revelation.
sorry, kid, but it wasn't love. rather, 'twas a glorious combination of friendship, horny desperation, stickin' it to the man, and really good sex. hindsight's always 20/20, right?: you had just moved back from your failed marriage in california, i had turned 16 and was anxious to lose my virginity while "cherries were red" (thanks bus buddies). we worked at dairy queen together and had similar interests and senses of humor. friendship and horny desperation-- check. as for the man, he doesn't want us to be together. fuck him, right? it's the adrenaline rush of non-conformity!!! so, it's january, and we've started boinking, and it feels amazing. you're my first and you say i'm the best you've ever had (between annie, crackhead dawn, and that isla bitch at king soopers, i'm not that surprised), so good sex is a check.
i had my sneaking suspicions in the past, but reading through my old notebooks last night, it finally clicked. everything about you is ridiculously horny and filled to the brim with sex-imagery and whatnot. we became animals tearing through each others' clothes for yet another satisfying fuck. looking back, now, it's HILARIOUS. (and sad. that, too.)
ah, first love.
i dreamed about you last night. i was going to visit you or you were getting out of prison or something like that. your beard was enourmous and devouring your entire face. and you had nugly-looking dreads on your head. and i was so excited to see you. and i guess i would be in real life, because you're still my friend.
i haven't heard from you in over a month. i should send you something. i'm sorry, life post-you is something else entirely. but still, i have your art hanging on my wall. and i love it.
that's the end.
~kat | | |
| the night between saturday and sunday, i had a nightmare about working for a television company with six-pack evil pants. it really shook me up. i felt a lot of pain and couldn't stop thinking about him at work, so i went to see brian at the language lab, wrote five pages of bullshit, got a parking ticket, and tried to keep on the sunny side. i ended up feverish and freaking out, so i decided to do something about it. so, monday, i finally scheduled an appointment with the counseling center after consulting "mysticdoc" on justask.com, who said all of my six-pack symptoms, both physical and mental, sounded like post-traumatic stress disorder.
yippee! just in time for veteran's day!
it's first thing on thor's day, and i hope it goes okay. i don't want to not be able to do homework because i'm too busy freaking out about that kid ever again.
i got my concentration draft back from john bower. he said it was good, but i freaked out about changes yesterday. hopefully today will be a bit better. i just need to keep on the sunny side and maybe all my dreams will come true! (sparkle eyed sarcasm, kids.)
i need more food stamps and i need the internet to stop being so lame so i can pay off my damndable credit card.
i do have fun, sometimes, though. after my ten hour shift on friday, jeffy, john, brian, and i went to see the men who stare at goats, which was hilarious. because what could be more groovy than a new-agey army who use their psychic powers to do things? and take a bunch of lsd. on the way home from the movie, we picked up an incredibly drunk bro who wanted to go to the ridge. his name was alex and jeffy told him a bunch of lies about a sleazy girl named angela. saturday brought the dining hall with jeffy and brian feeling he WAS a smart version of the nicholas cage character in raising arizona. good times.
fuck, i'm boring. | | |
| yesterday, while walking at the downtown bus station, i ran into the boy who raped me. my ears were full of punk rock when i looked up and there he was, looking at me, saying "hey kat..." as if he's going to talk to me, tugging the earphones out of his ears, wanting me to push back mine and acknowledge his presence. as much as i hate to admit it, i'm terrified of him. and i'm not afraid of much. so, instead of granting him what he wanted, i just said hey, and kept walking. he tried to talk more, but i said hey again as i passed him. i had two choices: i could make my voice sound as scared as i was or i could make it sound tough, so it sounded too tough and i just walked by. i could tell he turned around to watch me for a bit, but i just kept walking, trying not to shake. i wanted to kick him as soon as i saw him, but it's the downtown bus station, with security and witnesses and cops everywhere, so i just walked by and didn't grant him the acknowledgement he wanted apart from saying "hey" twice in my gristle voice. grey sweater, blue jeans, and his ridiculous ponytail. i hadn't seen him since the first day of school. i didn't acknowledge him then either. i know he noticed me, but he was talking with people, so he probably thought nothing of it. and this time, this time took guts. and balls. ha. and i got on the bus, remembering that he's 21 now, which means he survived without drinking himself to death. damn. it shook me up the whole time i was at work, so i went home and medicated and talked to ian for hours about nothing. today, in my gender and law class, the issue of rape and how often "victims" know their attackers. and i felt like i was going to break down; as if i was a giant bottle of doctor pepper that had been shaken up. open me now and i'll spray my artificially-flavoured stickiness all over your house. but i'm calming down. and i think i did the right thing. i hope, i hope. why is there never a time where i can sneak up on him? why is it always him sneaking up on me? our entire "relationship" (and i hate saying that because "relationship" makes people think boyfriend/girlfriend stuff, which it has NEVER been at all) has consisted of him sneaking up on me. i demand justice. i demand revenge. gah. live, love, breathe. nothing is permanent, yet all is not chaos. life is evolution-- your own personal revolution. | | |
| here i am: the green-eyed girl. living with one foot in the future and one in the past. living off desperation and soggy dreams, i walk through the forest, remembering words d.h. lawrence wrote far before i was born. such beautiful trains of words. i used to want to make words like that, but now i am too high on my own percieved failure. i think of myself this time next year and i am mostly afraid because i anticipate i will have to stop dressing like a kid and that terrifies me. oh, my selfish, selfish self. i think about living in a place with brian. i come home and feed triangle and do crunches. i am working-- where? planned parenthood? dairy queen? what city is this? where are my dreams? what are my dreams? here i am in the eye of the storm. the twilight of my (first) college years. what? how the fuck did that happen. i need to write a letter to zach, the boy who might have been. i think about brian and i think "sans toi..." i can barely sleep without him. i indulge in thc and pass out in a puddle of sentiment-- what i deem sacred, what i deem beautiful, what i deem right. who am i to be so bold? i'm just an animal, after all. a silly female who wouldn't exist without medical technology cutting mom's fallopian tubes free. my species is a pack animal and all day i walk around in my species carefully constructed habitat, bipedal (thus looking ridiculous) and with bizarre patterns of fur. i listen to older members of my species talk at me all day so i can study the intimate/intricate process of mating. i perpetually need to wash my hair. with my concentration done with the writing advisor for now and off to my chair, i am here in limbo, waiting for my half-formed dreams to be struck from the (cliche) sky. congress calls it "partial birth abortion". editors call it "revision". i feel like all of my schooling has taught me nothing. i feel stupid all the time. have i failed? i am afraid to discover the answer either way. silly, silly kat. silly kat needs to work on her paper, but she lacks the motivation. always lacking the motivation, silly kat lies down to laugh and laugh and sleep. and consume. bubble gum icecream. by the gallon. we're all dying, here. ooh, i'm a teenage female. can't you feel my woe? oh, woe is me. | | |
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