Monday, December 31, 2012

Thursday, December 13, 2012

There is a lot of weird energy in the air.

I have come to some steep resolutions (already enacted).

I don't feel like talking at all today.

This is the result.

2 hours on photoshop. I'm bored and I have so much to do.

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Monsters of Silk and Lace

Dwelling filled with haze,
The moon passes
Time and time again.

Corner dark and suffocating,
Entices seekers of something transient,
To embrace a threshold
Not often conquered.

Arising from the depths of slumber,
The real monsters have come out to play.

Unraveling the threads to your existence,
They are only doing,
What God has told them to.

My monsters dress in robes of silk and lace.
But then again,
So do yours.

Monday, November 19, 2012

Where to begin?

"Where does it end?" may be a better suited question.

If anyone has the slightest interest in my life, provided my near year-long absence from not only the internet but virtually everything and my few sporadic blog postings, one may be able to deduce that perhaps... life hasn't been, the most favorable.

But hell, who am I kidding?  I am so private, I bury my real exploits, my real feelings, and everything I honestly do in a day in a shroud of silliness and superficial pursuits.  Maybe that's my problem.  You see, I have this really aggravating blind spot in my personality where I somehow conceive that others obsessively think about the motives and feelings of other people enough to at least try and be understanding before arriving at hasty conclusions.  Sometimes it sort of floors me when I think about how sincerely I express my love, my intentions, my passions... even if the moments be brief.  I say more in a sentence than most people I know say in a day.

But I get it.  It's because most people are bastards.  When most people stop talking to you out of the blue with no reasonable explanation, it's because something stupid was left unsaid, paranoia rises... people assume, negative feelings brew, time separates what the cowards cannot.  Trust me, if I was upset with anyone... they would know why.  That has never been my style.  I usually send a letter... I never said I was entirely brave either.

So, if I'm not upset, all that's left is... something must be wrong.  And I'll be honest, there have been a lot of somethings wrong.  There have been a lot of somethings right too.  Overall, it's been a huge mess of just a lot.  I want to share my position of what has been happening, as to receive a better understanding but I will not based from the following thoughts...

What I have learned from not being on the internet was how to live life again.  I can't begin to explain how much my life has expanded from not worrying about what people were saying on facebook, or how to keep up with this artist or that cosplayer...

I've also come to realize how sad and watered down our social lives are anymore.  Everything that I now am can only be through what is on my facebook wall or my deviantart page or hell... my blog.  And it's not just me, everyone.  We spend so much time working ourselves up and over it that we make ourselves sick.  I know it makes me sick.

The past year has shaped me in ways that are honestly incomprehensible to even myself at times.  For the better portion of my existence, I have been a friend that overextends.  I took a forced year off and I needed it (even though I hated it).  My soul needed it.  None of the past year's expeditions from an outsider's perspective are what they seem... in the slightest, and there are a few who will account for this.

Needless to say, I have a VERY complicated life and I don't expect that to change.  If I haven't made contact in a while it's because I have such good reasons it would probably make anyone feel guilty if I told them.  So why not fix my complicated life?  That's not me and it never will be.  That comes with the package, so for the first time in my life I am going to say, if you don't like it... leave it.  I'll understand.

To those of you that I have hurt, because it does not shame me to admit that there have been several, I am sincerely sorry.  I understand that we all have different expectations of what an acceptable level of communication is and I have been absent from everyone'e life, even my family's.  To me, it seemed an inevitable process that most individuals should go through at one time or another, and perhaps even more than once as it was one of the most incredibly enlightening times of my life thus far.

I know I mean a lot to many.  It's difficult to balance and feel sane when you care as much as I do.  It's made me somewhat neurotic to be honest and I've been trying to remedy that so I can be even better to the ones that should know that I really do care about them.

Despite how I just wish I had understanding (which I do have from many).  Despite how hurt I've felt for a while now, I completely understand.  And I still am sorry.

Saturday, September 29, 2012

Blatant Truth

I have spent a considerable amount of time fretting in tumultuous anxiety as to how to approach this current topic for well over four months now.  It's not my intention to begin so ambiguously but due to my honest intentions, it must be so.  Speaking of my intentions, I will state them outright before I begin.

This blog is intended to inform and expose the truth.  It is NOT intended to be a petty and slanderous rebuttal to people who honestly don't deserve those efforts to begin with anyway.

With that, I will begin...

A picture is worth a thousand words, so allow me to give you all not one, but several.

Recognize this place?  I hardly do.  This was once the home of my family and of my childhood.  I, myself, had lived there from the age of 8 until I was 19.  Not only was this my place of cherished memories but it served as one for countless people as well.  It was a home away from home (or in some cases more of a home) for handfuls of my friends.  My grandparents lived here for 7 years.  Other members of my family have spent considerable time here.  It was a safe haven.  A gathering place for holidays, famous parties and bonfires, and a healing environment when our entire family needed comfort most.

I know, without an unquestionable doubt that many people value this little sanctuary perhaps almost as much as I do and will be just as offended and appalled when they witness what had become of it.

Repulsed yet?  Come on in! It gets better...

So, there are tons more pictures, but I just can't bare to post anymore.  I don't believe more evidence of the profane filth these creatures left behind is necessary.

I tremble as I write and post these pictures.  My chest burns and my stomach turns.  And this is coming from me.  I don't place too high a value on material possessions and places.  They come and go and nothing lasts forever.  I had to let go and move on from nearly everything when I moved to Florida.  My only wish was to see my family be free from the burden of Northwest Ohio and that which was so they could move on too.

But this has been going on for months.  It has been the plague of my family and the blessed souls who have done everything in their part to help my family recover.

And in case you're uncertain, because I have yet to say, this is the result of tenants that my parents had rented to for 6 months.  These photos don't account for the reputed stench that would hit your face as soon as you entered (actually a few people who helped clean up this PIGG-stye remarked that the smell of cat urine and feces -which was everywhere, including the cats that went with it- could be smelled before entering).  They also don't account for the precipitous stress that my parents endured and thusly all of those who truly care about my family, or maybe even just other people who care about goodwill towards fellow man in general.

I have so much I could say.  So much anger-inspired words, further details in the likeness of these people using their children as pawns, lies about illnesses (and just about everything else), heavy denial, and lies.  So many lies.  I have witnessed the evidence from first and second hand accounts from more than just my parents.  Fortunately, justice has been served, but my voice deserved to be heard as well.

Now that the storm has mostly passed I am still left flabbergasted.  I am very hurt for reasons I choose not to disclose and I will forgive, but I will never forget.

Wednesday, August 15, 2012


Note:  This is an incredibly shallow and unsatisfactory account of the true extent of the mentioned events, emotions, and intentions stated in this following blog.

Did you know that I have aspirations to start an artists' studio?  It should come as no real surprise.  However, there are a lot of people who speak of such things and the words never become anything more than just deluded fantasy.  So, I try my best to reserve my offense when someone is weary of my current position.

From an outsider's perspective, I am a hopeless dreamer.  Seemingly aimless and careless about my "plans" and probably even some of my relationships.  I will not apologize for this.  My methods are unconvential and trust me, I am far too self-aware to realize the difficulties I face because of this.  I know exactly what I am doing and I work toward this goal everyday that I'm not putting up with the ceaseless flow of tumultuous bullshit that can be my life at times.

Sometimes I'm afraid.  I'm afraid that when my very demanding and expansive social life and those involved won't understand my perspective.  Who has a life like mine?  I wouldn't be too keen on believing it myself.  But I kid you not, currently, I am in a hotel because it rained.

Allow me to explain...

So, my beautiful apartment that I have spent about 10 months living in, 6 of which, I had nothing save my air mattress, some clothes, a few sketchbooks, and my computer, had its ceiling completely destroyed.  I moved 1000 miles away from everyone, everything I have ever known with about $300 and two cars.  I fought my ass off for this place, pooling every resource and trick I could muster.  Well, here I am, not even a full year into my lease and I was given 3 hours notice that I have to move.  Now.

Now, the apartment complex I live in is attempting to pacify us by moving our things into another one of their apartments... but needless to say, I'm just not happy.

I won't try to fool anyone (although I really do not want any sympathy), it has not been easy.  I have been dragging my feet to get a "real job" because quite frankly, I have issues dealing with "real people."  I also get enough commission work to justify being the "hopeless dreamer" that I know people who don't know any better probably perceive me.  The positive result, I have written a novel and it's good.  Just ask someone who's read any part of it.  I have a fan club already, so I don't hesitate to announce these things.  The fruits of that 6 years of hard labor are still quite a distance from me, but it's well worth the wait.

I persevere.  I have reached out to accomplish more than any of my peers.  I sought to a project that was well over a year's worth of planning and seven months of hard, executed labor.  I spent six years saying I would write a novel, and I did.  I said I would marry that 15 year old boy when I was but 15 myself because I knew better than anyone what to do with my own life.  I married that boy by the way. Nine years we'll be together this October.  I said I would travel too.  I have been more places than I care to list because this isn't about making people feel less "Worldly" than me... because that would probably be the effect.

I don't have any money (and I never have).  We live paycheck to paycheck.  As a result, we have made sacrifices.  This is why I don't have internet.  This is why I can't just go to any convention that floats my whimsy.  Even when it comes to purchasing the supplies needed for any of my commissions, I require 20% down because otherwise I wouldn't have the funds to start the project myself.  So, my personal projects suffer, even though I only say this because I overextend myself to create far more during any given time than I really should.

This may sound horrifying to some, but this experience has been essential to me.  I'm actually overall very happy and satisfied with the direction my life is headed.  Everything is still following the master plan even with the many obstacles I have encountered.  There has been huge progress toward that initial goal (which will be so much more in the end) of starting up this studio.  I have one contributor who dropped everything in his life because he knows what I'm capable of to pursue this dream with me.  I have a few others pending and 2 more confirmed and on their way. 1 group of the two will actually be joining me in my quest in the matter of days.

So many people believe in this and I do as well.  How can it fail?  We're all too damn stubborn.  But believe me... I"m always speaking in tongues.  There is so much more to this than meets the eye.  "I see all and say nothing."

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Three Days out of Two Months

Written April 27, 2012

The final sanctuary for my weary mind rests on a lined, mass-produced wonder.

This cherished object, this notebook is nothing more than a fraction of some semblance that is myself.  Some nights I feel as though it is all I maintain... a loose grasp.  Alas, I know this is not true.

I feel as though I am a trash heap.  A collection of madness, emotion, and heavily convoluted fantasy.  Yet as I breath, as I write these words, I cannot deny it.

Every hour of my consciousness I now question my sanity.  However, as a child my sights always knew of the distinction and the inevitability.

Do I speak in tongues for elusiveness?  Or do I speak in tongues to soothe my soul?  To alleviate this madness?

I write as though it mattered, as though someone where to know.  No one knows.  No one ever will.

I am nothing.  I feel to be made mockery by very own existence -neglecting that of which all surrounds me-.

Time will tell.

What if it doesn't?

Others claim to believe me; I do not believe them.

If I believed them, I would therefore believe myself.  If I were to believe it...

I am simply too overwhelmed.

God spare me some grief.  I see miracles for I search for them.

This is the root of my turmoil, the seed of my festering brain, and the dampened cloth of my despair.

There is no room to breath nor error in judgement.

Written May 3, 2012

The passion of the dragon embellished upon my soul a promise of a heavy fate.  While the stars humble my person reminding me to remained balanced and constant.  Perseverance is never effortlessly maintained and has never been more shrouded by such a suffocating veil of static.  Over half a year has passed since this leg of my journey began.

"Who am I?"

I now understand that the only answer to that question (that is an answer that would truly suffice) is certainly more than nothing  but perhaps a little less than something.

I span, perhaps not infinitely, but so wide I no longer can pretend to grasp the entirety of this chasm.

I do know that I am a servant to an end and I always have been.  Without a say in the matter is going too far, but I take my position with great honor and responsibility.

Where I've been in this life hardly seems of consequence but I am most appreciative of the blessing regardless and acknowledge its necessity.

I will do what needs to be done, just as I always have.

I will no longer fear my future.  I will no longer doubt my past.

Can you feel it?  I have returned.
-----------------Part 2 (same day)

Emotionally drained, I essentially spent the past seven months in profound isolation.  Discovering the true extent of my person's real need of the significant interactions of others, I had to learn to depend only upon myself when all was said and done.

Physically depleted, I "ironically" find myself ill in the last four days before the next chapter began.

Spiritually reawakened-a soul in the likeness to my own takes tremendous resources to call to attention, as I discovered.

I went through a horrible bought of depression that led me to the beginnings of ------------------------, something I thought that I would ------------------.

I had redefined every relationship I had ever had.

I had attempted to complete my novel after following a peacock down a dirt path.  I had thought my "great journey" would lead me to finally conclude the six year project, but led me to so much more.

For the first time, I had sincerely questioned my sanity, not only once but every minute there-after.

I had discovered one of the greatest navigational tools to the formula that is mankind and brought this invaluable information to those that would receive it.

I had acquired the ability to play a song so beautiful it brought myself and my lover to tears.

I had gained a level of intimacy and love with those who mattered most even beyond the depths of my initial perception.

I had lived in a state of poverty that had me wondering if I would eat that given evening (I didn't mind).  Most of the duration, I had virtually nothing material.

It was the hardest thing I had experienced up until that point.

I have never been more thankful.  I have counted every blessing I have not missed.

I found myself.

Written Wednesday May 16, 2012 at 4 a.m.
(The only journal I intended to be read by others.)

I find I can no longer quiet my mind.  Marginal attempts to contact my favourites have failed, to no shock.

When I had originally set my sights on abandoning all means of my virtual life, I hadn't anticipated losing the ability to do so entirely.  But it happened.

Must anyone require a brief explanation know that I am far too impoverished and seek means of greater simplicity, despite my current aspirations.  Speaking of which, do not presume to know what those are at all.

Retrospect provided that I have not been exiled for the past two months but the entirety of the past seven.  I speak yet hardly any bare witness to my words' significance.  The gravity, the context, is always lost by some measure if not completely.  As much as I loathe it, this has been the most poignant transformation I have ever underwent.

We have only reached the gilded gates of truth.  Discovering the crack in the doors was only the genesis of this descent into... something.
                                                                Oh, what to even call it.

How have I been?

I wish I could tell you all.

I wish I could sing from the rooftops (perhaps I will, but will it be heard?) detailing what I have seen, where I have been.  Although, I cannot.

My news is nothing short of outstanding, fascinating, and exceptionally detailed.  I would give so much to have it be heard and received as I would like, but no.  I am sorry.

Needless to say, I am well.  Very well, actually.  Even though the entirety of this journey has left me feeling somewhat like a bruised peach in a burlap sack of potatoes, I am eternally grateful for it.

Life scares me shitless sometimes but I have never been more enthralled to breathe it in.

There are no more questions, concerns, and most importantly, doubts in all that I have come to understand.  I wish I could describe to you all what that feels like but even my words would always fall short of the collective's (although regrettably sympathetic) ignorance.  It is impossible.

So I suppose the final inquiry that stands could be, "When will you return?"  In which the only response I could give, "When God inspires the selfish hearts of men to provide me with reasonable internet rates."

Until that day arrives, I did want to remark that I miss you all dearly.  Honestly, I really do.  I hope you can take a small bit of pleasure in knowing that my absence was one of the best things I think I have ever done for myself.

Thank you.

Please love me when I am gone just as in my absence, I do the same for all of you.

<3 Kaiser

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

"That Moment"

A summer day over four years ago now, I was camping with my family.
I was going to school at Owens and still living at home.
Home was Northwest Ohio, a place where my family no longer lives.
At the time, I wasn't even engaged to Nathan and both of my Grandmothers were still alive.

While sitting around the campfire, after eating steak, I had a three-ring binder up to my nose, scribbling away.  My parents had friends of theirs visit us at the campsite.

They asked me, "Why is that every time I see you, you're always working on that novel of yours?"

Those words have never left me, That novel of yours.

I felt that it was being equated to the aspirations of any other idealistic, young spirit who hadn't had their dreams snuffed out by their own lack of ability or ambition.

Six years in the making, that novel of mine...

I couldn't tell you how often I've re-written it.  I have stacks and stacks of hand-written, half-typed, half-written, scribbles, drawings... and many more that are completely unaccounted for.  Lost to either the garbage, or something we can't even explain (that happens with me and paper).

It's been frustrating as hell.  You wonder if people will ever believe you, if they'll even care by the time you're done.  Naturally, I've changed immensely since I've started this journey as a 17 year old, still in high school, toting around that binder with me no matter where I went.  I've never stopped carrying that binder.

I'm almost done.  I can't believe it myself.  Honestly, I don't think other people really believe me when I say it either.  But, here we are...

I recall telling quite a few people actually that when "that moment" finally comes, I'll have to throw myself into exile or something.  Well, "that moment" is here.

I'm terrified actually.  I'm so concerned that a large number of people that I feel really rely on me in some way will need me... which is exactly why I need to commit to it, and why I need the support and dedication from everyone else in my life as well too.  I need to know that it's going to be okay, without me.  I need to know that it's okay that I can take this next month and dedicate it entirely to my dream, the one I've been dedicated to for the past 6 years of my young, adult life.  Please tell me that I don't have to worry.  Everyone will be okay.

Tuesday, March 6, 2012


We know not the depths of our persons until we have descended past a depth that we thought we could no longer breath.

Sunday, February 26, 2012

My personal take..

On something that most people would find...

Inconsequential?  Silly?  Maybe?  It's hard to find the right word for it.

As many of you are well-aware, I attach myself to some odd things pretty strongly.  I know that sometimes my "connections" to things exceeds the comprehension of onlookers, increasingly so depending on their distance from what I consider the orbit of electrons in my life.  I don't feel it's commentary on anyone's ability to understand, or even a remark on their intelligence or insight.

Very rarely, do I feel the overwhelming urge to explain these "obsessions" if you will.  Bare with me, if you would... but consider this:

When hearing "obsession," what comes to mind?  Obsession is really a rather broad term, which I hadn't actually thought about before until recently.  No wonder I feel like I haven't been able to properly explain my attachment to certain characters, ideas... etc.  I believe, or suspect anyway, it would seem that the most common connotation for the word often implies a certain nonsensical and excessive fixation on something that either does nothing for the "obsessee"  (other than the "enjoyment" they receive), or very well could be a negative influence.  Causing them emotional distress over a delusion that actually affects their judgement to varying degrees.

However, what I've often observed not only in myself, but mostly through others, is a connection that they themselves cannot understand.  Maybe that's why people who do become obsessed with things become obsessed to begin with.  That lack of understanding to their own fixation only encourages it to exist to begin with.  We're allured by mystery and from my personal standpoint, most of us are "obsessed" with trying to make sense out of the world we live in and our place in that world.  So naturally, that would extend to the very progress of mankind to our very specific, personal mysteries.

That all being said, the only difference between me and a lot of people who are "scary" with their obsessions (admits to not actually knowing which category (I) fall under... -omission of my own naivete, perhaps) is where I end up in the long run.  I don't let go until I understand it.  I'm not saying no one else does this, in fact I can think of several who are probably enthusiastically open to admitting they're the same way in many respects, but often I observe that people want to understand, they just lack the tools in order to do so.  The obsession eventually falls off the grid and they move on to something else.  I feel bad for them.

That passion, when not communicated in an effort the person in question sees fit, eats at them.  I think to some degree, depending on how much an obsession fails to provide personal insight, the more it damages a person, unknowingly.  Even worse sometimes, when a person has "given up" on something they're obsessed with and in turn rejects it from that moment forward, due to their seeming inexplicable frustrations, is left actually a little more crippled in their own self-awareness then what they were before even discovering the obsession to begin with. This can of course be addressed (most of the time subconsciously) in the future, but generally it's with something else entirely.  The old thought/love, if you will, is lost and just as arbitrary as ever.

This happens to everyone, really.  We can't always understand everything.  Stating it so simply actually should make every one of us comforted.  "It happens."  Sometimes we're fortunate enough to revisit an old love that we never had quite figured out at the time, only in turn to learn so much about ourselves.  I love it when life comes full-circle.

So, for me, as a notably obsessive individual, I feel an outstanding need to express something I've been trying to express in numerous ways for quite some time now.  Due to the lack of specific and desired feedback that I've been reaching for, I consider it partially a failure on my behalf to communicate this idea effectively.  

I'm going to put myself on a limb here.  I'm going to explain something (or at least attempt to) to the full extent that I possibly can (and as concisely as I can too).  

First, I'll bluntly state, I know some of my closest electrons (I say that most endearingly... we're all the the centers of our own universes) do get it.  They get it a lot.  It resonates with them exactly as I hoped it would.  Some of the others, I know it hasn't.  It's all in the reaction.  That's okay too.  There are too many factors to list as to why I feel that is.

The reason I first introduced the Myers-Briggs personality test to my friends most specifically was because I wanted them to first and foremost to have a better understanding of themselves, but not only that, but also hopefully a bit of appreciation.  Honestly, I know my efforts there were successful, as far as I can perceive anyway.  That's the easiest way to appeal an idea to someone... make it about them.  I promise, this isn't as evil as it may sound... but it's just the way we all work.  You want me to watch/read/get into something?  Appeal to my vanities.  It's what we do.  It's actually really funny how predictable all of us are.

The second reason was because I wanted them to understand me better, thus us better.  I wanted to inspire conversation, thought.  This is the area where I know I've failed simply because I haven't had these conversations.  It deeply disappoints me, but not in the individuals themselves (okay, sometimes a little bit) but just in general.  We just don't think about that kind of stuff sometimes.  We get so preoccupied with the BS of our lives that we forget.  I'm certain if we could romp around in meadows all day and sip tea as we watched the sun set together, these conversations probably would have happened, and not provoked entirely by myself.

So I implemented a new strategy...

When I watched this show through for the second time (which is significant to state), I felt that it was the summation, the "cherry on top," to everything I had learned through the Myers-Briggs personality assessments and overall learning I had obsessively researched about the inner workings of the brain.  It just so happened to be too perfect, which is really why I pushed it on everyone so vigilantly.  Why?? Because I'm this guy:

Even though at first, I only kind of saw it... and even though in some ways, I kind of hate it.  We're too similar (minus the life circumstances, naturally).  At first, I didn't even recognize that I am in fact, equally as absurd... among other perhaps more notable points.  I'll get back to this momentarily.

But in truth, it was about assessing the workings of the social group as a whole that helped me to see the bigger picture.  The knowledge I obtained from such an obscure source re-sparked a lot of passion in me.  I reacquainted myself with my truest priorities and intentions, and tell me this my friends:  How could that possibly be a bad thing?

What I became more fully aware of was how the Japanese really do put a lot of thought into their storytelling.  There was so much symbolism in that show that any literary/art nut would have enough to analyze for a satisfying amount of time.  That's what helped me realize initially how much thought went into it.  When I realized why it is that we respond the way we do because of how our brains are literally wired, it's no wonder we can identify so strongly with these characters.

Considering the creators thought into just the visual symbolism (that ranges from incredibly obvious to the extremely subtle), it wasn't difficult for me to make the leap between typology and the individual characters.  Equating them, almost effortlessly, to the people closest to me brought to my attention how true the characters stay to their types.  That's kind of the whole point to the show anyway, when you really think about it.  

Being so far away from everyone that has been apart of my entire life experience to date, it enhanced my appreciation for my closest friends, current or otherwise.  It's not that we're a tight-knit bunch of friends, or even that I'm the scarily similar "daddy" of our ganglion of friends, it's that we really do fit these characters to a science... literally science.  How neat is that?  That's pretty neat.

I would like to conclude this by saying, I really love you guys.  That's why I wanted you to watch that show. I just want you to understand, if anything, how much I love you.

Friday, February 3, 2012

Bad Break-Ups

I've broken up with more than a several people in my young life, yet, ironically... I've only dated my husband.

That sounds awfully wrong, doesn't it?
Not only by moral standards but just by my own proven-true character.

Allow me to explain...

I've had some really, uniquely in-depth relationships with all sorts of people, from all walks of life.  I'm only 23. It's so interesting how many people tell me that I know them best or that I'm the only person they feel like they can talk to.  I bare the title of "best friend" to 9 confessed individuals.  As honored as I feel, as blessed as I feel, I hardly feel like I deserve it.  How could I possibly exert that much energy to that many people.  In many cases, I hardly think it's fair when I can't say the same in return.  That title is reserved for very, very few.

I've always held guilt over it.  I copped out on a person I have always truly cared about being in their wedding because I hardly felt I deserved that honor.  I didn't feel I could be there for them in the way that they needed so I thought it would hurt them less if I said "no." I then, consciously/sub-consciously pushed them out of my life because I couldn't tell them that as willing as they would be to forgive me, I knew I could never be there for them in the way that they truly needed.  I felt it un-true and they deserved better.

I felt that way about my sister for a long time.

I over-extend myself to this insane level.  It's the reason why I'm so tired but I can't sleep.  Why I write, paint, obsess... distract myself from trying to help and fix everyone.

I've had results.  People say people don't change.  I know for a fact that they do.  I can see souls, I swear to you.  It's why I'm here.  It's overwhelming, exhausting.  It's exhilarating, enlightening.  I am all-powerful and most vulnerable.

I realized today that all of my serious friendships (I mean, I considered you a "best friend" in return) I've had in the past ascend past a level that even many romantic pursuits don't reach... sometimes in complexity, but always in understanding.  It's kind of a curse/blessing sort of thing I've concluded.

I had a point...


I never left a relationship for me.  My breaking point was always when I saw an exceptional red flag that warned me, "If you try to fix this problem, you will only make it worse."  To those of you who have held special places in my heart, you know how honest I am.  That's always when I step away.  I hate it.  I never want to "give up" on anyone, but it always ends up working out for them, for the better it seems.

Is it because I'm toxic?  Sort of...

I have no idea how to explain this now without sounding ignorantly-altruistic...

How about I don't?  To quote a brilliant scholar:

those that mind don’t matter, and those that matter don’t mind…

I quote that specifically as one of my besties loves that line and reminds me of it unknowingly all the time. 

I'm not claiming to be "the perfect mate" for everyone/anyone or anything like that.  Like the quote suggests, to those of you who matter, you know what I'm referring to.  To those of you with no clue, GTFO.

Yeah, I flipped it for the sake of hilarity.  Don't be vindictive, those of you who don't matter. ^_^

But even to those of you that I have parted ways with, the ones I did indeed share a special connection with, as there are many, know that I love and care about you and am so happy to see you all doing so well.  

Saturday, January 21, 2012

I'm just a girl from Northwest Ohio

    Ever since I was a wee one, I always held to the core of my being particularly inspiring ideals proposed by some admirable few.
    Today is January 20, 2012.
    Some people believe the world is going to end this year.
    I am not one of those people.  My approach to anything considering the nature of mortality is I'd rather just be occupied with it.
    That doesn't change the "electricity in the air," as a dear friend of mine put into words.
    He's absolutely right.  The electricity was in the air since before we were born.  It's been in the mix since the dawn of the social movements of the 60s.  And if you don't feel it, look around you.  It's become difficult to not notice the after-effects, thus, the signs.  One thing always leads to another?
   "Your generation will bare witness to some big changes."  That is already so true.  Do we really think it's over?  It's only the beginning.
    To quote Radiohead; however, "...Just because you feel it, doesn't mean it's there..."  Is this just every generation's predisposition to believe such fantastical romanticism?  History happens.  Not all happen to history.
    Does it make you nervous, excited?

    Out of everything that has happened in my relatively short duration here on Earth, Y2K, 9-11, George W. Bush... never before have I felt so anxious, so ready, so aware, so... angry.

    Am I just that age?  The archetype, young and outspoken, female artist?


    But, I'm also a huge supporter of non-confrontational methods.  If I'm telling you, confrontation may be necessary... the force is not in balance with the galaxy.
    You know times are changing when the notion of a 23-year old, cross-dressing artist running for president as a gag sounds like a less insane idea... even if only to a small handful of individuals on an insignificant niche of the internet.

(No offense to my fans, by any means. <3)

Thursday, January 19, 2012

5 seconds

Something snapped in me.

I'm about 5 seconds away from telling the whole world what I think of it.

It makes me feel like I'm going to die.

I know a lot of people read this.  Hardly any of them come out and say it.  It's okay.  Generally, I write it because I feel like there's something for anyone.  I try to make it relate-able at the very least.  I'm just fucking pissed off with my (__________).  I always am.

I feel like I can't even write this journal as passionately as I would like to.  I can't even point out specifically who I'm frustrated with, thus leaving people who aren't the subject of my frustration in the wake.

Ugh, I told myself I wasn't going to care.  My husband did.  Why can't I?

I like honesty.  I like the truth.  I can't function well without it.

It just frustrates me that the people closest to you are the ones that will be least likely to listen to what you have to say.  No amount of truth, passion, conviction, or hell... premonition would convince the people I want to express something to that I know what I know.    The feeling is impending.  You feel like you can't save them.  Not that it's my mission... necessarily...

Our relationships could be so much more... then again, the same could be said as mere individuals.

If anyone reads this and you feel personally offended, here's a suggestion, talk to me.  I'm pretty much blatantly coming out and saying it.

Alas, I know I'll be disappointed.  I always am.

So be afraid of me... then you'll never know.

Fair warning, I've had exceptional difficulty biting my tongue recently.  That comes with plenty of good on the positive side... of course, there is always that other hand...

Or do me the better favor and instead of pointing out my passive-aggressive hypocrisy, leave me be.   You can know no real thing about me and it will be equally our fault (lie).  I don't want to hear how this is upsetting.  In truth, I keep coming back to this... because I have fucking nothing else.

I keep adding to it.


Just what am I? Melo-dramatic? A continuous flux of hormones?  No.  I'm not.  I express emotion.  Crying is not a sign of weakness, just as much as excessive laughter is not a guise for intelligence.  Assessing me in truth... it's really hard to keep expressing myself to the void.

The most evil void.  Sometimes, it responds to me.  Most of the time it doesn't though, as I wait in limbo for something.  It makes me say things like,

"I hate everyone."

And sometimes I really do.

I'm so sick of stupid.
I'm sick of people who can't be honest with themselves.
I'm sick of repeating myself.

I'm just sick of it.  I want to fall off the face of the earth, do something ludicris, and never tell anyone who thinks they deserve to know.  Actually, I've done plenty of that already.  Still am.  I wish I could say I'm doing it to see if (you) notice... but I'm happy to report that's not why I do it.

Why? Why go on this way?  Because I'm constantly trying to prove myself... not that this matters... what vanity.  What a spectacular waste of fucking time.  I think I will just plunge into a place where no one can find me.  It should be easy.  Even if you do call, I probably won't answer.  I quit.

Destroying preconceptions scares people apparently.

Monday, January 9, 2012


Over the course of the past several, seemingly, non-linear days I have discovered something.

When I am right, I know nothing.

Saturday, January 7, 2012

If She could have one last word.

What would Christine Karamol say?

As an artist, I exhaust all efforts and means to utilize art as a tool to experience on a level not privy to many.
As much as I know it will never fail to exhaust the minds and frustrations of others, for those that it brings me to, the people I meet, the places I go.  That's what my art is about.  That's what it will always be about... until I let you know otherwise.


-Christine a.k.a. Christine "Fucking" Karamol, Kaiser, Ken Adams