"two whiskey and cokes please"

It's the kind of place that wouldn't feel right without the plumes of cigarette smoke curling their way slowly up toward the ceiling. The walls are made purely out of brick, and out of the corner of your eye you notice a slow trickle of water. Your eye follows the trickle up to the top of the curved ceiling, where it's origin is. That, and the brick walls, remind you that you're underground.
The music is jazz. You aren't sure if the music is being improvised or not, but you pretend that it is because it adds to the romance of the place. You never really liked jazz, not until you got to hear it live. You definitely don't experience the passion in the music when it's just being played out of speakers.
You aren't alone.
You're reminded of this when the person you came with gets annoyed at the lack of service and goes to get your drinks. Whiskey and coke for the both of you. The service doesn't bother you, you're still caught up in the story you're making up for this place.
He comes back with your drinks and your attention is drawn away from the dripping on the wall. He starts chatting about religion. No, not really chatting, he starts talking at you about religion. He wants to prove to you that you shouldn't believe in God, that in reality, it's pointless. You're only half listening to what he says. You glance around and see couples of college students everywhere. Boys and boys, girls and girls, boys and girls. They are seemingly engaged in similar conversations and you wonder if anyone is really listening.
Slowly your eyes travel back toward the musicians. He doesn't notice, he's too engaged in the conversation with himself.
You begin to envy the musicians.
You wish that you too could throw all of your emotion into something beautiful. You want to be able to sing out your emotion, and hope that someone will understand what you feel and sing along.
You get lost in the plumes of smoke and the music. You see the sadness in the guitarist's eyes and begin to wonder who he's playing for.
Maybe hes playing to someone who broke his heart, maybe he's playing to someone he lost in that inevitable way of death. Your eyes mirror the sadness in his, and you unconsciously begin to play with him, now only hearing the music from the guitar, now only caring that the person you two are play to is listening and hearing your joint pain. Maybe they'll hear it if you play louder, the pain of two souls instead of just one.
And then you're just an audience member again. Just one of the pretentious college students pretending to care about jazz, arguing about the validity of religion, talking at each other, only loving the sounds of your own voices.
But part of you still feels the pain of that guitarist and you hold on to that, perhaps hoping that he's carrying part of your pain, as you are his. Lessening the burdens of each others hearts.
The music stops and you and your friend decide that it's time to leave. You get up absently, he's still trying to argue that we are all one-in-the-same spirit. You blandly appease the argument as you walk back the the subway. You say that though you see that too, and maybe religion has done a lot in terms of causing wars, it's done good things.
But you're still thinking about the music you played from the guitar, each step is a cord expertly strummed. You know that your friend doesn't really care, he just wants something to get worked up about, a face to talk at, because he's just as lonely as you are. You make plans to go back to the leaky ceiling, to cure your loneliness together, though not saying a word to the other about it.
Next time he'll start in on spirituality vs. religion. All you'll hear is, two whiskey and cokes please, while you lend your heart to the guitarist on stage among the plumes of smoke.

despair.

I've been spouting my happiness on both of my blogs, in emails, in phone calls. I can honestly say that the last two weeks were my happiest two weeks in the last year.

But that feeling is gone and I don't know what to do. This whole year has been a constant flow of ups and downs and it started at the heart attack (or maybe i just started noticing it as something since the heart attack). When i really think about it, I realize that I've been this way since high school. I was talking to my mom yesterday and she affirmed that fact.

First I wanted to blame it on the family stuff, and then I wanted to blame it on the break up with Morgan. Next I wanted to blame it on Sara moving and then bad relationships with my roommates. I then wanted to blame it on my parents moving, and then on me moving to austria and lastly I wanted to blame it on Tom.

And though those were all difficult things for me to deal with, I don't think i can blame this depression on it because it feels deeper than that. I'm so used to being able to control my emotions, and I haven't been able to do that. There's something deeper controlling this. I really thought that I just needed a change of scenery, that I would find the happiness that I was looking for outside of the drama polluted Seattle. That hasn't happened.

It's cyclical, I'm finding. I'll be sad for a few more days, I'll cry uncontrollably for a few more days, and then I'll feel like I've stepped out of a cloud. i'll feel good about myself, my friendships I've made, the friendships I've lost, the things i'm about to go out and see and do. But then I'll slowly get sad again, it won't be immediate. There will be one thing that will just eat at me for a couple of days and then I'll burst into tears and force my mom to talk to me for a few (very expensive) hours. It's really an uncontrollable loneliness.

Before I was trying to depend on others, and I know that I can have happiness without these other people, the last two weeks showed me that. But I'm starting to realize that there's something seriously wrong when all I want to do is sleep or lie in bed and watch movies the entire day and I don't even have the desire to get up and feed myself because that means have to be around people.

Maybe I was just better at controlling it before, or maybe it was having my family close to help me know that I am not alone, or maybe it really has gotten worse. I was never able to acknowledge it before because I was never allowed to be that person who needs help.

I was (am) always the friend who listens.
The one that tells you you'll get through it, that you're strong, and that you deserve more.
I've never really been allowed to think or talk about my own problems, not until recently.

I'm fragile and I don't know if there's anyone who can help me.
I'm fragile and all people know how to do is hurt me.

I'll have happiness again in a couple of days. Until then, not even sitting in the shadow of the Staatsoper which has been standing since 1869 can make me feel glad to live here.

schaffe

I'm happy.

hands

I started drawing this on the train from Vienna to Salzburg about a month ago, I finished it while sitting in the fortress which oversees the city of Salzburg.

"Not even my
phantom tree
could save me from the picking hands
of betrayal
of having to admit something
I've been afraid of."

I'm learning not to expect much from people.
Not to trust so fiercely.
Not to believe that people will be there for me, like I am there for them.

really sick of my roommate turning off all of the lights when i'm sitting there reading or watching a movie on my computer or knitting just because she's really excited to be old and wants to go to bed at 1030 every night after her nighttime tea and book reading.

Munich. uncensored version kinda.

**writing it on a 5 euro bill
ME: This is my email, if you can make it out, feel free to email me. If you can't, whatever.

**group of three boys start talking to me, so I humor the conversation. Teal gets up and leaves with aussie bicycle boy.
Teal: HEY! HEY! GET IT GRRL! GET US SOME DRINKS!

**Swedish boy who has better skin than anyone I've ever seen
should be gay: Hey, so, I don't smoke, but if I did, I would ask if you wanted to go outside and smoke.
ME: I don't smoke either.
S.B.G.: So, do you want to go outside and smoke?
ME: OKAY.

**Teal comes back from next door, I'm still chatting with the three of before.
Teal to me: HA. I just kissed a boy.
GERMAN: *GIVES WEIRD LOOK*
Teal to me again: I lost my belt.
**and then she begins flirting with the germ. Is seen later leaving bar linking arms with germ.

**Bartender comes over.
BAR: what would you like?
ME: I like whiskey.
**comes back with two Baileys shots.
ME: That's not whiskey
Teal: OH WELL, PROST!

will be going back to Munich.

maybe i'll just be a nun.

no, haha, that wouldn't be any fun.

i should just follow my gut.

This past year has been the year that life finally started happening to me. Until then, I coasted through life, never experienced drama focused on me, never had anything really happen. But this year I keep choosing this things that i know are not the right things. They are the things that make me happy at the time, but ultimately leave me crest fallen. It always feels right, but there's always something nagging at me.
I don't know.
I think I need to pay attention to my gut more.

i'm amazed at how much it doesn't hurt to receive the information i've been dreading.

i guess i just have to cope
forgive
and move on.

but right now i do feel like i'm going to puke.

how quickly timee flys

its been a month since i left the states
and it only feels like its been a few days

its been a year since the heart attack
and it only feels like its been a month

im excited to continue this adventure here
but im excited to continue my life in seattle

im so glad you fought your way back to us, sister
i love you so much.
i dont think ill ever be able to express how glad i was
that you recognized me on that day you opened your eyes.
thank you.
i love you
see you in a few months.