The Devil and God Are Raging Inside of Me.

Ten years doesn’t seem like a long time. When you still refer to everything in the past as 2006. Ten years ago, man. Ten years ago. 2006 was such a pivotal year of growing up for me. I find myself going back to that year in photographs, nostalgia, and through listening to albums that seem like came out yesterday.

Ten years ago, I sat in my parents guest bedroom, staring out the window. I laid in my bed watching the clouds go from grey to slate. Hearing every cloud rupture with anger and sadness, as the rain fell from the sky. In a room I didn’t grow up in. In a room, I felt like I kept coming back too. I was in-between places, still trying to figure out what I wanted. This wasn’t home but Fresno wasn’t home either. Where do I belong? Where do I fit in?

Ten years ago, I didn’t want to go back to school. Even though I knew getting older meant it would be harder for me to do things. My odds were against me. I was finding myself fearful of people and a fear of my peers is what always told me not to go back to school. It takes me 10 minutes to get out of my car to do simple tasks, without feeling like the world was against me. I didn’t realize I was sick. I didn’t realize that this wasn’t normal.


Ten years ago, I let the wrong people in. I let people hurt me. I let people use me. I let people cloud my judgement of what good really was. Instead I harbored a pain so great that caused me to cut open my outsides, to understand what my insides were feeling. I was burning in this vessel of a body, with this need to please everyone. To be there for everyone, while people have done nothing but watch me fade in the background.

Ten years ago, I thought I was going to marry a variety of different people. A drummer in one band, a bass player in another. Plotting how one day they would look at me differently then they had in the past. That I wouldn’t be self-conscious. I wouldn’t be awkward. They would look straight into me, as I have looked up at them, many times before.

Ten years ago, I feel in love too easily. Always someone different. Always people I shouldn’t have loved. But I wanted to love as I always felt in the deep depths of my heart. How they play out in movies and we see on the big screen. I was hopeless in wanting something I wasn’t prepared to understand. In a way I used people. I just wanted what everyone else had. A hand to hold to keep themselves from falling apart. Because sad was better than lonely. And now I can’t remember the name of the first boy I kissed.

Ten years ago,  I wanted amazing things to happen to me. I wanted to stand in an open place and watch life happen to me. In a big city, miles away from my mediocre small town. Far from the same people I see every day. Maybe if for once instead of running, I would finally allow things to happen. Watch love open doors, see my careers unfold, watch myself change from strange into something beautiful. I waited forever for things to happen. I waited for people to move. I waited for things to happen. I waited too long and feel as if I am running out of time.


Ten years ago, an album came out that changed my life. I didn’t think it would. Many albums come and go and still I remember this as if it was yesterday. From the weather changing from the warm fall days to the chill of cold of the soon to be winter months. How it felt wrong to buy it from some mass production corporation, how I needed to purchase the album how I had purchased all their albums. Straight from the band, straight from the source. How I ripped open the package and watched my life change in front of my eyes. No one understands how that feels. How something so simple as opening a padded envelope could change your life in so many magical ways. How I needed to get out of my house and play every song loudly. Loud enough to where my insides would wake up. How every cigarette I smoked, I exhaled out the smoke and watched the smoke slowly leave my lungs open to the cold air. The rain kept falling, as this soundtrack continued to play. How perfect this seemed. My favorite band, playing the songs that for that moment I didn’t understand. It didn’t matter how many times the windshield wipers wiped my windshield clear, the rain still managed to leave a mark. Which is how I feel about this album. No matter how many times I try to wipe this away, a small mark still remains. I could write forever about every line in the songs. I could. I have. But today, I want to live in it’s memory.

Ten years ago, I didn’t understand. Ten years later, I finally know. We are not suppose to fit in. We are not suppose to be normal. Sometimes you don’t realize how bad you’re hurting until the years pass and you become someone else. Someone completely different then the person you were ten years ago. Its hard to come out of the darkness and back into the light. It’s hard to understand that even though we feel completely alone, we are never truly alone. Even when you think you can’t start over, life throws you something completely unexpected.

Today, I watch the rain fall from the sky to the tops of each tree and rooftop, from some place far from home. I think back on those memories. I think back to my sentiments and feelings.  Ten years ago, I had no idea where I was going. I stopped believing in love. I stopped believing in myself in the years in took to get here. I stopped wanting to marry the boys that would never love me. I stopped dying for a hand to hold. Ten years ago, seemed like such a long time ago. Now, I sit here wondering what happens next.

Ten years ago, man.

10 years.


Some place good.

People have a funny way of disappearing. Coming in and out of your life as seasons change. I met you in the summer, and you lasted through fall and winter. By spring we couldn’t run away fast enough. We were so limited in our time together, and some days I feel like you couldn’t leave fast enough. You disappeared and expecting this all to go away. That leaving was easier than the need to stay. The winds of spring blew you away and the only thing I have left to show for it, are these scars of the coldest winter.

You weren’t suppose to leave, I was. I was suppose to tell you everything I felt and walk away from everything. You were suppose to have your heart frozen to stone and unable to sleep for weeks on end. You were suppose to replay my words until they become a recurring dream to you. To feel these words long after I have left. Haunting you like fog and disappearing through the clouds. You were suppose to be left with the corpse of who I used to be. But you left. You left and didn’t hesitate to look back. Here I am haunted by every word, as your face comes across every person I meet. You didn’t love me. As much as you implied it, you never once said those words. You seemed warm like fall but you were cold like winter. Never said a single word, unless it was to hurt me. I realize that now. After all these years I realized that what we had wasn’t love. And as much as I thought I loved you, in the end I knew deep down I didn’t. And it tore me apart. Because I wanted desperately to be with someone, to have that comfort in someone, but I knew it wasn’t you. I just wish it took me sooner to realize than later.

You were like all the seasons. Changing leaves to adapt to the ever changing weather. You only like someone for the moment when it’s convenient for you. Until you fly away and find someone new. I was a fool that believed in summer love that would last through fall, winter, and spring. I was stupid to believe that you would stay, when all you do is change color to who ever you want to adapt too. But this time I leave you in the summer. In the blistering sun and the swelling heat. Leave you begging for the fall and holding on for the winter. I can change just like you do. Only I change for myself and not anyone else. Thats something you haven’t grown accustom to yet.

You can watch the leaves fall. Changing colors from green to gold to brown to rust. Watch the winter rains swallow up the valleys and leave you gasping for more. I am not coming back, just so you know. I am not coming back. My summer skin has healed, now all I am left with is gold.


Blonde Ambition.

There comes a moment in your life where you need a change. Something to go from invisible to visible. The years of playing the disappearing act and wanting that need to reappear. Better, different, someone other than how people remember you. You change your clothes, you change your attitude and if you’re drastic enough you change your hair color. I am all for every aspect of change, including in the hair department. When you change your hair, you change different aspects of yourself.

New beginnings and this constant need for change. If you change your insides you want your outsides to match. Finding myself shedding my skin from one extreme to another. Adapting these different versions of how I want to be and how I want to conduct myself. I want the change because it’s the change thats making me feel this way. When you spend these moments disappearing, all you want is that moment to reappear. The disappearing act you made of your life, now is the time for your comeback. I have done everything humanly possible to my hair all in the name of “new beginnings”. I have chopped it in different variations of layers, cuts and trims. I have dyed it every color imaginable, and yet I’ve always kept it safe. I’ve always stuck to highlights, honey glows, and if I’m feeling adventurous reds and pinks just for fun. At times you become influenced by your surroundings, you feel a peer pressure from your friends. In the name of growing up and feeling different, you take the advice of various different people.


There is a whole process that goes into a hair transformation. There’s the “Should I?”, “Can I pull it off?” and then the “Screw it”. I have seen my fair share of “Screw it” with drastic conclusions. Anything then the ordinary, anything then what you see before you. Different, dramatic, drastic. When I decided to go blonde, I jumped off the bridge and did it. At the time I was going through a lot of different emotions and in the in-between stages of growing up and acting grown up. I had a new job, I had moved back home for what seemed like the 100th time, I just wanted something to show for all my new things. On top of everything, I had money. Money saved, money in the back, and more importantly brand new shiny credit cards to take care of everything. I loved it. I still wasn’t grasping the concept of being an adult but still I had money to take me to the next level. It’s amazing what you do in the name of new beginnings and it’s amazing the bullshit things you put up with once people know you have money.

When I went blonde, I thought a new change in hair color was what I needed to be an adult. I had seen countless of my peers go through drastic hair changes and watched their careers change. I watched their lives change from ordinary to extraordinary. I wanted that. I didn’t care how much it cost, I just wanted to see if my insides would mirror image my outsides. If I did all these things, would it change me.  What they don’t tell you in the magazines is how much maintenance goes into a hair change. They don’t tell you how your scalp is going to feel, they don’t tell you how your hair would feel, and more importantly they don’t tell you how you will feel in the end. I had people telling me it was a great choice and just what I needed to grow. Deep down I hated it. I know it was just hair, but even with a bad haircut I couldn’t just grow out a bad dye job. It is just hair and complaining about it is first world problems. This was my hair, this was my comfort zone of emotions. This was my security blanket of protected emotions. I spent more time obsessing over my hair then changing anything with my life. I spent money on every type of shampoo, conditioner, treatment, product to make my hair feel normal. I didn’t feel like a grown up. If anything I felt like a child hiding from a bad mistake. I watch the new beginning feelings I had tarnish then disappear. While I was more visible to the world, I myself felt invisible. Nobody saw me, they saw a big blob of platinum blonde hair before they even knew who I was. I craved the attention but hated the reactions.


Sometimes in life you have to file things under “Great Idea at the time”. Eventually the going back and forth to get my hair touched up was costing me a fortune. The countless products to make my hair feel like hair again, were putting me in debt. Instead of feeling visible, I found myself disappearing. I put myself into a depression because of how unhappy I was. All the money I had went into making my hair feel like myself again. Everything I was feeling on the inside, wound up making it’s way to my outsides. It wasn’t just the hair, it was this need to appear to be someone I wasn’t. I was so severely unhappy with myself that becoming someone else wasn’t helping either. I needed to fix that. Equipped with a 5 dollar bottle of box dye, I did just that. In a matter of minutes I watched the months of unhappiness, darken into happiness.

While everything I was feeling was deeply rooted by my past, I knew it was a journey to make myself happy again. A hair color wasn’t going to magically change my life for me. I was haunted by the demons of my life that was only handicapping my happiness. All these “new beginnings”, I wanted were never going to work until I changed myself. No haircut, hair color, change of clothes was going to change that. I had to work on myself on the inside and watch it work itself to the outside. Money wasn’t going to solve everything. While the 5 dollar bottle of box dye saved me from myself, it wasn’t a miracle worker. I still had a ways to go, but at that moment I felt okay. That’s all I wanted to feel.

I’m okay, I promise.

Six Hour session from Black Brown to Platinum Blonde:  $235  (not including tip)
Touch up roots, every month: $150 (not including tip)
Shampoo to maintain color: $29.99
Conditioner: $15.99
Deep Conditioning Treatment: $11.99
Blonde Spray Wax: $14.99
Blonde Wax: $9.99
Gas to get to appointments: $40 (appointments were out of town with a professional hair stylist)