why is it so hot in here?

Life is hard. Why am I back on here? I want to keep moving forward, but here I am sitting on my couch like a lifeless sack of nothing. Is nothing inherently lifeless? I don't know. I am having a mini panic attack in my mind. Another year of school? oh fuck. No tattoos from my tattooer beau? Oh fuck. No more drinking? Oh fuck. I am scared. Scared about the past and scared about the future. I just don't know what to do. Maybe I should've kept with biology and tried desperately to bribe someone to give me a PhD. The only thing that seems sensible right now is masturbating. Masturbating is a mindless activity that solves everything. Well, sort of.

Breathe Molly. I am beginning to get neurotic with nervousness. This post is merely a place to hold my words. I'd be lying if I didn't say that writing is my passion and has always been my saving grace. I hate how inactive in film I am right now. It breaks my heart. I kind of just want to go buy an expensive camera and start creating stupid shit. No fear filming. This is just one of those moments when the past creeps up on you, taps your shoulder and whispers, "Hey, I'm baccccckkkkk!" God damn.

I just want to erase and start over. You can start over, but your past will forever be there waiting to remind you that you've fucked up before and that you can do it again, fuck up, that is.

It suddenly got sweltering hot in this room.

Oh god, pre menopause.

I haven't even sold a script yet. Menopause, wait!

Son Of a Bitch Everything's Real...-Gary Busey

I am resistant to write on here, mainly because I feel I have no place on the internet anymore except for the occasional tweet and my obnoxious facebook statuses. My blog seems like a part of the past, yet for some reason here I am revisiting it. I suppose the main thing I wanted to say is that I am welcoming back sobriety with open arms. I won't say I had a relapse into the big boiling pot of alcoholic concoctions that are sickly sweet, but I made a direct decision to start drinking again. It all started with that one amazing concert. The moment just seemed to fit. I have been drinking ever since. No horrid repercussions have resulted from my last stint of drinking, but that isn't to say it didn't make me feel different, because it did. I was using alcohol to numb feelings. I was using it to have fun. Looking back, after talking with a friend of mine, I see that the path of sobriety gave me a purpose, a motivating drive everyday. I felt healthy and like I was beating the biggest feat of my life everyday which is just dealing and experiencing reality. Alcohol is fun and quick. I don't deny these things, but I think today I will be sober.

As Gary Busey says... S.O.B.E.R. = Son Of a Bitch Everything's Real

So, cheers to today as a sober Molly.

i'm back bitches... april fools

I took a break from blogging. I found myself censoring my thoughts and words just for this silly blog of mine. It has been good to be completely "real" with myself in my sketch journal. I'd like to say I am back in action, free as a bird, uncensored like Howard Stern, but that is not the case. I don't know when I will return to this blog.

So why even write this post?

I don't know. I guess I wanted to see my thoughts typed out and appearing on my screen again, imagining someone will read these prolific works called "posts."

Molly wants recognition...this is true.

Anywho. I am not coming back for a while. I still need to work on myself and go back to my roots where the love of writing and writing for self expression first arose. To anyone and everyone who reads this, I ask, "how much do you censor yourself?"

I do it way too much.

Chink.
faggot.
the jewish.
my niggaz.
I love giving head.
Blow me.
anal sex is good.
vibrators.
fat asses.
phat asses.
CUNT face.
bdsm.
my pussy tastes like diet coke.
I lie to please, it pleases me to lie.
rug muncher.
dykez for dayz.
titty twister.
dildo sucking fucktard.
retard.
balls on my face.
anorexic binge slut who eats cum for breakfast.
cutter.
druggie.
heroin.
alcoholic at 20.
spanking with your belt.
BIG cock.
NSFW.
life's beggars.
the colored peoples.
meat curtains.
two in the pink one in the stink.
butt buddies.
gay porn turns me on.
I fucked all your friends.
I fucked your roommate.
bisex sex.
pussy power.
they all smell as one race.
discrimination.
gay beaners.
blanco chica bonita.
puta.
floggers.
latex.
baby condoms.
bukkake.
pornhub low quality finger fucking.
tattoos.


Yup, now I feel better. Phew.

Saturday Night at the Movies

How can I make this post short and sweet so that I can get onto the homework I have been putting off for a whole week? I can't I have a feeling this is going to be a very very very long post. Which means it's probably very therapeutic for me and extremely boring for you.

This weekend, in particular Saturday was everything you want a night out in L.A. to be. There was booze, hookups, bras flying, grinding pelvises, joints stinking up the room, and little bits of fame.


Maybe this won't be a long post because at the moment I am having a very hard time articulating what Saturday was for me.

It was freedom. It was madness. It was everything I told, "no" to over the past year.

I drank. It has been a year and a couple months.

"Help yourself," he said. Bottle service. Fuck yeah. Had a total of probably 4 shots worth of alcohol, but even after the smidge of jose cuervo I had I was tipsy. Everyone knows that with tequila off comes the clothes.

After Jose it was a mini handle pull of seagrams 7.

It felt odd. Like I was drinking for the very first time, all over again. It felt good. I felt stupid, and happy, and good.

It is weird what alcohol can do to you. Let me add that before I had drank I was feeling just as good. This alcohol just added a bit of fire to the night.

Now like oh my god. I broke my sobriety. I am a dry drunk. This is all true. But I wanted to have some fun, let loose and enjoy myself. Plus, I've been scared to break my sobriety. As if I would be letting other people down. I should only be letting myself down. This is my choice, all about me. If I want to drink I'll drink. It started becoming more of a game of how much longer can I stay sober rather than a commitment. I mean everything from my past is true. I have a problem controlling my alcohol intake. I drink usually for the wrong reasons. But saturday night none of that seemed to interefere or whatever.I should still be able to drink. and I did. just as it was my choice and only my choice to stop drinking it was certainly mine to have another one.

150%

This post serves two purposes.

1. To get me in a writing mood

2. To make a deal with myself


Recently I have started a new sleep regimen (with the exception of last night) where I am in bed by 12, asleep probably around 1am, and then awake by 9 or 10am. I have cut my caffeine from 4 drinks to 2 drinks. I don't drink caffeine after 6pm. Hypersomnia and insomniac are my new titles. Anywho, I would say that this is another baby step towards changing my life. Considering that I used to go to bed around 3 or 4 am and wake around 2 or 3 pm, but that's only if someone woke me up, otherwise I would keep sleeping. It's been a week and I feel better. It is easier to get up and I honestly feel like my body's gears are clicking back into the right places.

Also, I am planning on going to a creative writing club at CSUF on Monday night. I met a new guy friend. I am planning to go to an AA meeting with Miss Elin two wednesday's from now. AND I am planning to go on a run with the Snail's Pace running club in MV this Wednesday.

I am going to make it to all of these commitments.

Oh, and I deleted snapchat after one of my wonderful friends who received a nude photo from me made it into this cat picture. It was really funny until I knew he was showing my other friends. Then it made me feel weird. Oh the downfalls of snapchat. Such is life. No more nudes. Tons more condoms (don't ask).

So, what does this have to do with anything.

Well, for once I feel as if I am giving my life 150%. Why not 200% because 200% is an absurd number plus, "15", is one of my lucky numbers.

I feel so happy. Overjoyed. Just smiling all the time when I am around people. It feels good to move on, do new shit and put effort into your life.

I was giving at best 75%. I wonder if for one month I can give 150% every day.

I'll workout when I say I am going to.
I am going to go to an AA meeting.
I will meet new people through the running club and or creative writing club.
I will be a good parent to myself and keep getting into bed at 12.
I shall look at life with an open heart, being nice to everyone who deserves my kindness (there are the rare exceptions when shit is not cool and you gotta be a boss and straighten dat shiiiet out).

^wtf molly? ghetto as hell.

And lets say I fail at all of these...well gotta just get back on the horse (which after falling is honestly and literally incredibly hard to do especially when you feel like crying in the dirt arena).

You may see this as silly and stupid, but I feel unfulfilled. I wonder if you were to look at your own life what percentage you would give it. Are you living the life you want? Maybe or maybe not. The beautiful thing is that you can change all this.

And rest assured that I will have my moments of spit and fire and curse words. That happens every day. The thing you have to remember is to recover from your anger and keep going.

LA PASSION DE JEANNE D' ARC

I had to watch LA PASSION DE JEANNE D' ARC also known as The Passion of Joan of Arc by Carl Theodor Dreyer for one of my film classes. The film was released in 1928 and has since gone through a tumultuous life. In the beginning credits of the film it says how the original footage was lost in a fire as well as the second negative copy. Then in 1981 an original Danish copy of the film was found in a closet in a Norweigan Mental Institution (wtf?). Go figure. Anywho, I am very glad it was found! Not only was this movie unusual and interesting, it also evoked some sort of feeling from within. Maybe regret or introspection?

Regardless of the emotion, the 114 minute film was really just one long day. The whole movie is the sequence of events leading up to Joan of Arc's death. The movie starts from the point where she is in front of a judge to the end when she is burned at the stake(sorry, I just ruined it). Typically I would've expected for the movie to start with her engaging in acts that would lead her to be before the judges, but no, the whole movie was just an endless tug of war in one location. It was like one long scene.

So, let me give you a rundown of the plot. Joan of Arc is being accused of heresy because she believes that she was sent by God to rid France of the English. It also seemed to me that in the film the judges had a problem with her dressing like a man. Needless to say Joan of Arc was relentless. She never relinquished her true beliefs that she was the chosen one. The judges went as far as to say that she was being led by the devil in her acts. Yet, in the movie we see the judges falsify a document in order to make her revoke her original statement. Plus, they want to burn her at the stake! Who is really being led by the devil?

Anywho, I, myself have battled and played my own tug of war with my belief in God. I've been an atheist then agnostic then spiritual and now back to agnostic. Some may say "who cares", but my lack of belief in God, especially in high school had earned me distrust from others. I had a boy tell me multiple times that I was going to hell because I did not believe in God. I was ganged up on and somewhat coerced into going to church with friends. My dad is Jewish and my mom is Christian, but I never grew up with the stories of God. For a while I knew nothing about either religion. It didn't matter because I believed in evolution.

Now how this all relates to the film...
Well Joan of Arc was persecuted for her somewhat different beliefs, yet she still held in common with the judges and other commoners her belief in God. But they burned her. Burned her flesh to ash because it did not correspond with their exact idealogies of God's will. I believe there is a lot of hypocrisy in religion, not to mention, unlawful killing in the name of religion. Many times I have seen people preaching on SFSU and CSUF campus and I have mocked them and considered them ridiculous. I hate them. I do not need to be saved. You professing the word of God in a public place is certainly your inherent right, but something about it makes my skin crawl. I don't need someone to tell me what is real and what isn't. What is God and what is the devil. But, as I watched this film I said to myself, "maybe I am no better than those judges, laughing at Joan in her convictions, her passions, her everything." I also turned it around and said what if it is the world laughing at me for my lack of beliefs. Whichever way it is, I felt a passion I have never known for the adement believers. Who am I to judge them and who are they to judge me? I still don't agree with the whole preaching on campus thing, but I suppose I have a new respect for people who are concrete in their faith. I mean there is always a double edged sword. Look at the people who are so deep in their faith that they attach bombs to their chests, murdering senselessly.

I don't know if there is an answer to all the thoughts and questions, but I have a new respect for people who believe in what they want to despite what others say. Of course there is a limit to this and I still don't want you to tell me about God unless I ask you, but still. I found the film heartbreaking and enlightening.

I suggest it very much so. Don't be turned off by Joan's over exaggerated stares.

It is free to watch on Vimeo

here is the link... http://vimeo.com/25035903

In my life..

I've been browsing through pictures, reliving memories of everything. A lot of SF memories.

I miss jazzy so much. I miss the street lamps in the sunset glowing as I walked to my brother's house on 29th and Judah. I even miss dizzyingly walking and screaming and calling Chris cause I was so high on molly and liquor.

Yes, I was miserable. But, during the moments when I was high on whatever I could find, god fucking damn I was surely on top of the world. Nothing could stop me. Except maybe throwing up on myself on the muni (I know, super gross, but living the high life aint always clean).

After a friend breakup, jazzy was my shelter. She comforted me and made me start this new chapter of my life. She was my compatriot, my partner in crime. We fucked shit up and were beautiful while doing it. She also introduced me to Eric. Jedi tail man.

Point being, it hurts yet brings tears of happiness to my eyes to look back on this life style, these memories, the love I left behind, not to mention the pain.

I am not friends with these people. I don't know what they did yesterday or what they're doing now.

It's weird how life changes within a year. Your best friends are no longer even friends. merely strangers.

I will say looking back on these pictures makes me want to drink. Makes me want to be the fun, outgoing, funny, sexy, fun girl at the party all over again (I put fun in there twice! interesting). I still wish that one day I'll be able to control myself, but that day will never come until I accept myself. I am still very at odds with who I am and who I want to be and who I've pretended to be.

I love The Beatles of course. Rubber Soul is my favorite album. "My Life" is on there. The beginning is exactly how I feel

There are places I remember
All my life, though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all

So there you go. I miss all these people.

I miss jazmine
I miss Maddy
I miss Dawn
I miss Dani
I miss Rashad a lot
I miss Jenn
I miss Jessica
I miss it all


My life changed in San Francisco. I changed for better or worse. Now, here I am sober and moderately happy.

sometimes I think I'd risk everything to go back to that time when my life was a constant party of crazy fun and memories I'll never forget.