The Edge

You like to live on the edge
Is what you always said
Like to suck the most out of life
That you possibly can
Yeah, you take all you can get
And you leave little behind
You like to extend your world
Until you are also ruling mine
But me, I know better
Than to get pulled into your trap
At least I like to tell myself that
But you’re a smooth talking boy
And I wear my heart on my sleeve
Where anyone can steal it, where anyone can see
Oh yeah, I know you’re bad news
But in my way, hey I am too
So we are perfectly suited
We are expertly paired
We are the ideal couple to lead to despair
Tearing each other apart
It’s a game of mutual abuse
‘Till all the strings are breaking, and the pieces coming lose
Oh we hold our heads high, but I don’t dare look you in the eye
‘Cause my guilt is all over my face
And your hands are stained with your shame
And neither of us is willing to take on the blame
I wear these bruises, and you bare the cut of my words
We are playing with fire and we are both getting burned
But no one else would take my shit
And they sure as hell would not take yours
So in a way we are both getting exactly what we deserve
We stay on the point of this knife
Playing chicken with our fear
Unwilling to admit that we need a way out of here
‘Cause we are killing ourselves
Slaves to our own cruel game
And when we are both the villain there is no one left to save
So pull me down farther and I will drag you along
Just let the world sit back and watch our deadly swan song


Lolita Speaks

He is a villain
With a pretty face
And blue eyes
He is charming
The perfect prince
All the girls are under his spell
Making themselves fools in the fawning
It would be humorous
If it were not so sad
Because I know the truth
I know that the “prince”
Is the monster in this fairy tale
I know his secret
Because I was a victim
“Hello Little Girl”
Said the wolf, the beast
Who lured the child into his lair
With sugared words
And wide toothed smiles
He is a murderer of innocence
One who feeds on youth
And spits out the bones
I was the prey
Fell for the trap
But now I’m older and am fighting back
This Lolita is stronger now
Has found her voice
And has a story to tell


Bluebeard's Room

There are dead girls in the walls
Of this dilapidated house
Rotting corpses festering
Behind the stone and grout
In a secret chamber
Locked up with a key
There shut up in their tomb
A sacred mausoleum there
A temple to the doomed
Fresh young wives
Starting the prime of their lives
But there inlay their fault
For being curious of future bliss
Is what lay them in their vault
Pretty treasures, pretty girls
All neatly on display
To be observed by master dear
As he watches their decay
A crime? A crime!
What crime is this?
They are his property
And any master has the right
To be rid of what displease
Such pretty girls, but lying whores
Who do not obey decree
A simple thing, really nothing
But they had to turn the key
Ah well, too bad
But she doomed herself the silly bitch
By probing far too deep
An in striking blood her own must she shed
To deeper bury secrets
That she should have known to keep

Leaving Shallot

I am leaving Shallot
I have had enough of this tower
And these mirrors and this thread
They tell me that I am cursed
And that may be
But I am tired of waiting for my doom
I’ve had enough of playing chambermaid
To my own ill fate
If it wants me so badly
It can give chase
Pursue me like a desperate suitor
I do not need to wait for a knight
To give me reason to dare escape
And I will not give a man the opportunity
To be my undoing
I will leave, not by boat
But by my own two feet
Set on the road to Camelot
Throw my face up to the blinding sun
Because I am so sick of shadows

Hello there.

I didn't really forget about this blog per-say, but I just haven't updated it. I could say that it's because I haven't had time... but that would be a lie, I'm just lazy.

But I'm writing now! That deserves a pat on the back, right? No? Ah well.

Anyway, since I wrote last. I have started school at Columbia College Chicago, and I am now a week away from the end of my first semester. I'm loving it here. I love my fiction classes, and I really love living in the city. I've found that I really am a city girl at heart. Now I don't think I can ever see myself back in the suburbs... not that I really saw myself there anyway, I just have confirmation now.

Let's see what else is new...
I have a tattoo, a heart on my inner right wrist (my heart on my sleeve). I have wanted this tattoo for over ten years, and honestly getting it felt like finally seeing something on me that was supposed to be there all along. It feels natural. The whole idea of wearing my heart on my sleeve is something very important to me. Living honestly for the whole world to see. For me part of that means being outspoken about the important issues that affect my life, and that I know affect the lives of many others. Being honest about living with mental illness, about being a survivor of sexual abuse, about a struggle with an eating disorder. All of those things and more. It's not being proud of that, it's not being an exhibitionist, but it's being honest and open. It is being comfortable talking about it in your daily life.

I don't have much more to say at the moment, this post was really just to say that I am going to make more of an effort to write here. Perhaps I will make a second post sharing some poetry?

This seems like a great act of narcissism...

Creating a personal blog seems like an utterly self-absorbed endeavor to take on. A diary, a personal record of one's life and feelings on those personal happenings is one thing, a very healthy thing. But plastering anything that crosses your mind on the internet? Eh, well.

It's one thing to give constant status updates on Facebook... or God forbid, Twitter. But to really have the arrogance to assume that anyone gives a rat's ass about what you have to ramble about at length, that is stretching your own self worth, admit it.

But--- apparently a lot of people do just this. It seems that I even have a handful of friends who do this. People whom I respect and who I do not at all consider to be narcissistic attention whores.

That and it's getting to the point where it is impossible for even some one with literary sentimentality as old fashioned as mine has to acknowledge that literature is heading in a very digital direction. (And I won't lie, as someone who loves books, physical ink and paper books, it's a bit heartbreaking to see that change take place). But I'm going to school to be a Fiction Writing major. I'm planning on being a writer as a career. So realistically I should be getting as much experience as a writer by any means possible.

So I've crossed the line of no return and created a blog.

Which I guess means I have to have a topic to write on. Because really, I'm not even going to try to pretend that my day to day life is anywhere near interesting enough to be engrossing reading.

"Dear Readers, I had such a thrilling day!

Woke up, looked at the clock-6:30. Hit the snooze (x3)

7:15 ate a bowl of cereal, 2 cups coffee

shower, more coffee

8-work.... more coffee

12 home. more coffee

I think you get the idea. Unless you really want a detailed description of my daily coffee intake (for the record, bold with vanilla soy cream) I think that a blow by blow would get old really fast. I mean even that little sample up there is hobbling along on a walker by the last line.

A topic. A purpose to this madness that is what I need.

I won't just write about myself here. But I figure that I can write about the issues that I face and the topics that I care about. My life is boring, but I can use the few important bits of my life as a starting point. Writers are always told to write what they know after all.

What do I know about? What do I find importance in based on what I experience in my life? Off the top of my head what are the things that come to mind?

I know what it is like to live with a mental illness.

Gasp! Yes I did just go there.

Yeah, it's really not that huge a thing to come out about. Well it should not be anyway. I am one of nearly 6 million Americans who live with Bi-Polar Disorder.

I know what it is to be a vegan, trying to live a compassionate lifestyle that is true to my morals. And trying to find delicious, fun ways to do that. Which can be an adventure in a very non-vegan world. Hunting down good food, quality clothes and other items that are cruelty free and fit my personal taste. It can be a challenge but it is the right way to live in my mind, and is really not near as difficult as most people think. Anyone can do it!

And I am a lover of literature and a writer. Which is the point of creating a blog. To write! So this could be a venue for me to put out writing, and maybe even get some response if I am very very lucky. Even if that response it to tell me that it is absolute shit, I mean honestly if it is shit I would like to know so that I know what I need to work on to improve.

Well, Dear Reader.

Thank you for taking the time to read these ramblings, I appreciate your patience in humoring me. Feel no obligation to bother doing so in the future, I can honestly say that I have no idea if it will be worth doing so.

But who knows?

Your Reluctantly Self-Indulgent Narrator,

Christa