Saturday, March 31, 2012


Not caffeinated. Really tired, actually. And a grump grump. What if I said I was a gramp gramp? Like a grandpa. Like I was an old man trapped in a young lady's body? And I had multiple grandchildren that adoringly referred to me as "gramp gramp"? Like that would be freaked up. Like I am censoring this for conference weekend. What if I said I was censoring this for my gramp gramp? And it turns out I was my OWN gramp gramp? According to the multiverse thing that I don't understand, this is a reality on some planet somewhere.

The planet. Hey, planet - remember when I wanted to save you back in the day? Remember how I wanted to save the animals, too? I wanted to save myself from ill health and emotional imbalance as well (thus proper diet, exercise, meditation, early to bed early to rise, etc.). I wanted to do a lot of saving back in the day. That feels like eons ago (not that I necessarily know what an eon even feels like). I feel sadly apathetic these days. Oh no! Hipster cliche that I thought I'd never succumb to is coming true! Oh lordy lord. I just don't find much interesting or worth pursuing these days. And sure, it's kind of fun in a Margot Tenenbaum way for maybe a second, but it soon gets WTGTBE (way too gloomy to be enjoyable). How do I shake myself awake?

I had a nice week. I was in the desert, the mountains, by a salt water lake. I was in multiple motels and dingy diners. I was in the mythland of America. Mythland? I'll explain what I mean later. I will explain all of this later. Or maybe I won't! Because I am sooo apathetic. But I truly am. I feel sad. There. THERE! I said it. Sad and stuck. Her fog and pearls? Her sad and stuck.

Thursday, March 22, 2012

white girl

Almost everything I've been thinking, saying, and doing lately could be hashtagged as a "white girl problem." I am really really really too focused on myself and on the little things that don't matter, such as, "Ohhhh these hair extensions are the WORST." "I drink tooooo much caffeine! Ugh! It's the worst!" "I can't decide where to go for brunch. Decisions are the worst!" And so it's like, really? Really, Meg?

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

palate cleanser part 2

That "Fish Eye" post? Yeah, I know.

Well, I need another palate cleanser. Cleanse that palate, survey! Okay, Meg! I will!

11. Favorite Soda?
I used to be such a good girl and never, ever, ever drink soda, like, not in a million years for a million dollars/doll hairs would I ever drink soda. Extreme? Maybe. But I'm a runner! And scared! No soda for this girl. Then I became addicted to caffeine and also realized that fizzy drinks are fun to drink. So favorite soda? Dr. Pepper, probs. But I'm seriously trying to stop drinking soda! I want to be healthy again. When I'm healthy, I'm nicer. And being nice is kind of nice. In fact, it's really nice. Sorry if I've been a brat to you lately. :(

12. What type of shirt are you wearing?

13. If you could only use one form of transportation:
walking... or HOLODECK. (Holodeck is a form of transportation, yes?)

14. Most recent movie you have watched in theatres?
Was it seriously Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance? Oh crap. It WAS. But before that it was Harold and Maude! See! I'm still hip! (But I guess it's also hip to like bad movies with Nic Cage, right? I just out-hipped myself! Is that possible? Yes!)

15. Name an actor/actress/singer you have had the hots for:
I will always and forever have the hots for Lulu Reed. Actor? Psssh. Actresses? Honestly, Ellen Page. And Kristen Stewart! Kind of! Weird, I know! Oh, and Michelle Williams melts my heart. She is incredibly adorable.

16. Whats your favorite kind of cake?
ice cream caaaaake!!! and german chocolate!!! and boston cream pie!!! (boston cream pie is a cake, right?) (but seriously, i won't allow myself to have cake.) (but that's gonna change, okay?) (will you help me?) (cry for help.)

17. What did you have for dinner last night?

18. Look to your left, what do you see?
four cat pictures and a rockstar energy drink (that explains everything)

19. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off?
if i'm feeling ambitious

20. Favorite toy as a child?
I would NEVER pick favorites. I didn't want to hurt my toys' feelings. Buuut... Between you and I, my favorites were the puppet my mom made (named Chloe) and my American Girl Doll Molly.

21. Do you buy your own groceries?
Yep. Sometimes my mama and sis sis and pops will be kind enough to pick me up a few things. They are way more generous and selfless than I and I have a lot to learn from them. Lovely people they are.

22. Do you think people talk about you behind your back?
Of course! People are human! Humans talk!

Monday, March 19, 2012


New post? How about NEW HAIR?

fish eye

The best time to post. I can't say why, but many of you who follow me on a certain Twitter-ish website (aka TWITTER) know why. OH man. Seeing the world through the eye of a fish. It is what it is.

Do fish lay eggs? Yes, yes they do. Do we eat those eggs that they lay? Yes, yes we do. Why do we do such things? It's not like the fish eggs will fight off death and hand us immortality on a velvet pillow placed upon a golden plate placed upon THE golden plates. It's not like the eggs will do that. If the fish eggs did that, I would eat them often. But they don't. So there's no need to ingest and digest.

This is not a joke.

Let's stop eating each other. I mean, certain eating is okay (YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN), but the eating away at each other's hearts and souls and tissue and muscle is going too far. We should be taking care of one another, cradling each other in the crook of our arm instead of being the crook that steals hearts and holds them ransom.

Remember Mel Gibson in "Ransom"? GIVE ME BACK MY SON! Mel G. yelled with such fiery passion.

Fiery? Weird way to spell it, English Language. You are a bag full of shit, English Language! No, not really. Now I'm getting unnecessarily aggressive.

What was I going to write tonight? I wanted to write about how my heart broke a teeny tiny bit tonight while standing the sidewalk. Cracks in the sidewalk. Don't break your mother's back. Also, don't break your own back because that will lead to nothing but constant pain and something possibly really fucked up (aka PARALYSIS).

That's what I was going to write about, though. I miss him. But I also miss her. And him and her and me and me and me and her and her and them and us and all of us that were sitting together, singing without knowing that the future would never allow this to happen again.

So, yes, give me back my son/sun.

Sunday, March 18, 2012

palate cleanser

1.You have 10 dollars and need to buy snacks at a gas station:
Only ten bucks? Gas station prices are way too high, so this Alexander Hamilton ain't gonna go too far, but here goes... I would buy a Clif Bar, banana, maybe string cheese (depending on whether or not I'm vegan at the moment), almonds, maaaybe a Spike (depending on whether or not I'm at 7-Eleven/feeling like I wanna douche-out), and perhaps some veggies if I'm feeling crazy. Gas station vegetables? De-lightful and super fresh!

2. If you were reincarnated as a sea creature, what would you want to be?
Sea horse, obviously.

3. Who's your favorite redhead?
Is Whitney Mower still redheaded? Cuz I'd choose that womyn.

4. What do you order when you're at IHOP?
HA! Great/stupid question. I TOTALLY JUST WENT TO IHOP. And goddamnit, it was expensive. I was so upset by how terrible, yet expensive as fuck, my food was. The company was good, though, so there's that. And I got four free saltines to stuff into my purse. Oh, I ordered the fish dinner. Yeah, THAT'S gonna be delicious, Meg.

5. Last book you read?
Non-fiction: The Tao of Philosophy by Alan Watts
Fiction: Cathedral by Raymond Carver

6. Describe your mood.
One part awake-ish, two parts confused, sprinkle with anxious (always sprinkle with anxious! sprinkle anxiety over everything forever and ever and always amen!)

7. Describe the last time you were injured?
On Friday I totally sliced open my finger cutting down a box at work. I cut myself with that box cutter like it's going out of style. HEY! Did you know box cutter cuts are in style? Well, they are. But not for long! Better start cutting your fingers with them before it becomes super unhip. Never be unhip! Hip 4 lyfe!

8. Of all your friends, who would you want to be stuck in a well with?
This is such a great question! And unlike the IHOP question, this is just great, not great slash stupid. I'd be stuck in a well with my fattest friend. Gotta eat sometime, right? GROSS NO. I would be stuck in a well with Laura or Chris. Or Laurachris (the result of my science experiment - two BFFs in one!).

9. Rock concert or symphony?
I've been there done that with the rock concerts, so bring on the symphony. But I just know that when I'm at the symphony, I'd be jonesing for a rock concert. Never satisfied with where I am, am I?! Let's go with rock concert. Let's just go with it. Lez just go with it.

10. What is the wallpaper of your cell phone?
I don't want to end on this question! This is booooring! Okay, I'm going to change the wallpaper on my phone right now so that I have a more exciting answer than just "cobblestone." Okay! I did it! I went through with it and changed the wallpaper on my cell phone! Big step! Biggest step of my life! No longer confused/conflicted/condemned to a life of confusing and conflicted life decisions!

Thanks for reading this survey. Never go to IHOP. Unless drunk and/or desiring to waste $16. Below is the wallpaper on my cell phone. It's purrfect and purr-dictable.


I don't know how to put this poetically (well, maybe I do, but I don't want to bother trying) - I am confused.

I am confused, a little frustrated, nervous, hesitant, confused, and also a bit confused.

And the hardest part for me right now is that I can't quite put the confusion into words. It's a mix of not wanting to tell and not knowing what to say.

I wish I was ten years younger and figuring all of this out. I feel like I wouldn't be so hesitant. I believe the hesitancy is what makes all of this much more difficult.

But I am still unsure. At least I have a few people I can talk to that have been where I am currently, although each situation/person is unique.


I need to caffeinate myself and fill out a dumb li'l survey to cleanse my palate.

Saturday, March 17, 2012

breasts and hell and motorcycles and science

I have many ideal days - here's one of them:

A fucking hilarious person and I are sitting in an empty room, both of us with laptops and the Internet. We sit across from each other and write a one-act play on Google doc. We drink a lot of coffee.

Another ideal day: I am stuck in an empty room, but by "empty room" I mean a room that is full of books. Books on feminism, Buddhism, nature-ism, Ism-isms, and education. Oh, and science. I have to read all of the books before I am allowed to leave, piss, or sleep. I drink a lot of coffee (which means I better read quickly because coffee = piss piss).

Piss piss? Really, Meg?

It's 11:34! Which is "hell" upside down! A past lover once pointed this out to me! We had a weird summertime romance that didn't end so well! But I think we're still on good terms! I mean, we never ever talk and I don't know if he even exists anymore, but it is what it is! We once ate at Sweet Tomatoes with my father! That was a weird day! HELLO!

I went running last night at 1am and didn't get to sleep until 3:30am or so. By the way, 3:30 upside down is OEE. So anyway, my dad showed up this morning at 9am and I was like, "Whaaa?!" I got ready in a jiffy ("Choosy Moms Choose Jif" is really funny and confusing and PROFOUND when one is trippin' balls) and then we went to Barnes and Noble, where most of what I was looking for was not there. Thanks for hating anything to do with women and the environment, local B&N! Wait, what's the point in telling you all of this? Maybe that I am really tired? I'm tired of talking about how I'm tired. I wish I could talk more about architecture or motorcycles or something. I'll do some research and get back to you on those two topics, promise.

I break promises. I'm not going to research architecture or motorcycles, at least not right away. I am going to eat breakfast and take off my bra right away, though. Why do I even bother wearing a bra? First of all, UNCOMFORTABLE. Second, BURN BRAS!!! Third, my breasts are super small.


Thursday, March 15, 2012


Three hours, 180 minutes, quite a lot of milliseconds... A lot can happen in that time. This sounds like an awful first sentence to an awful adventure/crime novel that some awful person decided to write, fully believing they would instantly become the next John Grisham. Now I feel bad for calling this person I just made up "awful." I am way too nice. But I am also way too mean sometimes. And I happen to be way too confusing, too! Too too too. Three three three. I drank some tea tea tea and now I'm getting carried away way way -

- there's gotta be a way to write about today. There was something so quietly profound about the seemingly insignificant events. Sitting next to a fake bear in a park and then later looking at a possibly real (couldn't decide!) bear in a window (while earlier discussing bearing our testimonies). The little details of him soften me and catch me off guard. He handed me an even number of seeds from the tree to throw up in the air on the count of three (three three). He listens. He's terribly wonderful. He's patient. I am unbearable, perhaps. I have to be. It's not easy for me to bare who I am - And I am just starting to figure out who this "Meg" person is. Apparently, she's someone who can't stop talking about bears.

Oh, but there was so much more about today that will slip through and pass by. Walking down Center Street, which holds so much nostalgia, felt like a graveyard. The people I used to love, the people I used to be, the people I have left, all buried under the invisible concrete of forgetting. Buried or BEAR-ied? Sorry.

And the pet store. I couldn't even form or listen to a sentence in that place. I was in awe. I can't believe these colors and patterns and creatures and limbs exist in nature. Who needs 3D glasses and a tub of artificially flavored popcorn when you've got science in front of you all the damn time?

I miss you.

I don't know who you are. I don't know if I'll ever know who you are.

We are going to be okay. Who we are and who we are not is okay and will be okay, up until the day we die on our 100th birthday, blowing out the candles, our hearts bursting wide open.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

the dawn of creation

I have been feeling waves of nausea for the past few days, so last night I said (in my head), "Screw you, stomach! I am going to bed at 9pm and you are going to heal yourself through sleep!" And I think it worked. Problem is, when you fall asleep at 9pm, you are wide awake at 4am. Actually, this is not a problem. I like it. This would be my schedule forever and ever if I had any kind of say in my life. But since I have absolutely no free will, this schedule is merely a rare occurrence. Here is a boring list of what I have done so far this early ass morning:

4:15am: Okay okay okay, I'm awake.
4:30am: Smoke reefer. JOKE. Get into car and drive to Maverick to buy eggs and Rockstars. Classy!
5:00am: Light some incense that smells like an old English grandmother and meditate. (I "cheated" during my meditation and totally closed my eyes, like, a million times! And I'm totally cool with it! Take that, Buddha!)
5:30am: Open up Rockstar, start drinking it, start tweeting, start blogging, start twitching. Oh yes, and start listening to sitar music! Amen! Amen, brother Buddha in heaven trippin' on acid with Jesus and the dinosaurs! Amen! Amen! Amen! Rockstar just kicked in!
6:00am: "6:00" looks cooler when you replace the zeroes with lowercase Os. Proof: 6:oo.
Right now: Breakfast? Hmmm. Tumblr? Yeah! Breakfast AND Tumblr? Good lord.

Monday, March 12, 2012



"On my mind"? What, exactly, does that mean? Is something literally placed on top of my mind? Don't even ask me where I believe my mind is located. Fine, ask. Here's my answer: I have no clue. It could be a tiny pilot behind my eyes. It could be a speck of nothing inside of my left toe. It could be hidden in a box labeled "mind" buried somewhere in a vacant field. I just googled "vacant field" and apparently it is a band. I bet they suck. Kidding, who knows. But seriously, so many bands suck. You know what else sucks? Waking up with food poisoning! Okay, it might not be food poisoning, but it's close.

Teach! I'm going to finally go through with it. I swear. I am going to work towards getting certified and then if I end up teaching, I end up teaching. If not, I will at least have something to fall back on. I can't not teach - it has been on my mind consistently for almost a decade. Oh dear lord. I started college an entire decade ago. Oh my god god god. I am having a mini-meltdown right now. I am so so so old. What the hell have I been doing with my life these past ten years? Oh, that's right - just blossoming. Kidding, kidding. But not kidding. I am a late bloomer. I believe I went through all of my high school phases while in college. Now that I'm nearing 30, I am ready to enter my 20s! Here's to responsibility and careers and retirement plans and paid vacations and khaki pants from Eddie Bauer!

Earlier I spelled "pilot" about seven different ways until I remembered how to spell it correctly. Piolet. Piolit. Pilit. And so forth. Super sad, really. Feel superior! I am sometimes an idiot.

If you are beautiful, you terrify me.

I watched a Russian film last night called Shadows in Paradise. It was so good! It reminded me of every relationship I have ever had! Go watch it!

Speaking of relationships... Nah. Never mind. Don't wanna go there right now. I am so confused! All the time! Entering my 20s! Time for experimentation! (This coffee has turned against me suddenly. Who decides coffee and nausea go together? An idiot, that's who! But an idiot who has a good heart and means well and is just trying her best and started college a decade ago. That kind of an idiot.)

Maybe I should try to eat something. And sit outside. And read. And take a Valium. Thanks for being so beautiful and terrifying!

Saturday, March 10, 2012

fifty-five facts

10 facts about my room
*there is a mysterious bloody mark on the door that i just noticed
*i have a special jewelry box on my floor full of special non-jewelry items
*it's crowded-n-cozy with books i'll never get around to reading
*i have a chicken mcnugget plastic toy on my shelf
*there are also doll heads on my shelf
*i have a couple of shelves dedicated to buddhist books
*my college degree is still in the envelope, placed on top of a shoe box on my floor
*there is tabasco sauce on my dresser (next to four cat paintings)
*i have three pieces of art by chris on my wall
*there are a million and a half used matches next to the tabasco sauce next to the four cat paintings

9 facts about my family
*we've got lots of snooty blood in us (we're french! we're german!)
*we had a dog for 14 (15? 16?) years named wolfgang that we still miss every single day
*instead of sitting around a table at dinner time, we sat around the tv watching the simpsons (which is totally awesome)
*i call my sister heather "sissy" and have my entire life; i doubt i'll ever call her heather
*speaking of names, i call my mom "mompsie" or "monny" and i tend to call my dad "johnny" (and i call myself a cab!)
*everyone in my family loves the holy hell out of books
*we are kinda sorta packrats (one word?) (two words?)
*we are assassins
*we're more of a rolling stones family as opposed to a beatles family

8 facts about my body
*i had jaundice when i was a babe
*it has stopped menstruating for months on two separate occasions
*it is a foreign land (at least to me) (but probably not to a few lucky souls)
*i have a birthmark on my upper left arm in the shape of hawaii
*i wake up with mysterious bruises and cuts often
*i have adorable moles on relatively racy parts of my body
*apparently i have a birthmark on my coochie, but i've never seen it (again, a foreign land!)
*it is chronically cold

7 facts about my childhood
*i had two cats that i named "bearded" and "graham cracker"
*i saved up five dollars when i was maybe 6-years-old so i could buy a teenage mutant ninja turtle
*my kindergarten teacher told me i didn't know how to skip
*i was in a shit ton of musicals
*i wrote, directed, and performed in a play about prom (i was maybe 9?)
*i never thought about getting married, a wedding, etc. i thought more about being famous.
*although i didn't think about marriage/wedded bliss, i was desperately in love with my best friend's brother for years

6 facts about my hometown
*apparently it used to be called "monkey town." i hope that's a racist reference.
*it holds a yearly festival called "strawberry days"
*oh, i guess it was actually called "battle creek," not "monkey town." why did i think it was called monkey town? what's in my pipe? not THAT pipe, pervs.
*there are no mormon chapels in town. psych. every other building is a chapel.
*it is home to the christa mcauliffe space education center! and purple turtle!
*there's a dumbass G on the mountain. let's claim mountains! nature is OURS! trademark it!

5 facts about my best friend(s)
*they are legit geniuses and in grad school right now
*laura and i lived in a purple room/womb together back in 2006. we even had bunkbeds.
*chris used to wear these salmon colored hospital scrubs all the time. in fact, i don't think he ever took them off. hey, chris! do you still wear those scrubs!
*laura was mistaken for a cabbage patch doll when she was a baby
*i believe we all graduated from college the same semester/year.

4 facts about my parents
*they went to yellowstone on their honeymoon
*their anniversary is on flag day
*they are extremely good looking (and youthful!) people
*they are assassins

3 facts about my personality
*i am a perpetual loner
*give me anything/anyone and i will overanalyze it/them
*i observe. i know everything about you.

2 facts about my favorite things
*the russians might be the best
*the older they get, the better they smell

1 fact about the person you like
*he is an assassin

Tuesday, March 6, 2012


Keyboard, you keep me at a distance. Screen, you censor what I could say. Pen and paper, I'll return to you.

When I return to the ink and notebook combo (it's a winning one, too - try it), I will write about yesterday. The past. The subtle (to our eyes) patterns on the thawing ice, the loss of balance on the rocks by the river, the cold hands placed on familiar skin for warmth. The holes filled with the unknown. The gathering of sticks to fish, the letting go of fears to catch the moment.

It would be effortless to wrap myself up in this world. In this world I feel effervescent, exposed, engaged in the delicacies that are the heartbeat of life - if only we'd listen.

I want to listen. I want to begin to listen; or maybe resume listening? Have I been on pause? Either way, there are exquisite corpses waiting to be resurrected.

So this is what I will write about when I return.

Sunday, March 4, 2012

me mandala

Food hangovers are the worst.

Okay, that's a lie. There are worse hangovers. But I really dislike food hangovers. But I should remember that I am a fucking privileged white chick living in a great part of the United States and that I can afford to buy healthy food and eat it whenever I fucking want.

Goodness, the Spike brings out the f-bombs in me, now doesn't it? It does.

Lately I feel like I have been stuck stuck stuck in this cloudiness of me me me. Okay, so there's this mandala. And at the center of this mandala is me. And each circle radiating out is something/someone to protect ME. And the Me Mandala grows and grows and grows and I shrink and shrink and shrink into my own cloudy, critical, contradicting mind.

And that's all. There's probably a "solution" to this, right? I need to replace the "me" at the center with a "you," but also a "me" so that I don't forget about myself and put my own needs last. So does that mean I put an "us" at the center? Or maybe a "jesUS"? It should be me at the center with a perspective switch. I should switch from self-preservation to self-compassion and general compassion for all sentient beings. I really do believe in that shit (by "shit" I mean "compassionate living" - I have such soft language).

But I'll admit it. I'm struggling. I don't think I can feel complete compassion (complete compassion? is that a thing/possible?) where I'm at right now. I am talking about where I am at physically. I believe I need to go out there and experience a non-privileged white chick life where buying and eating healthy food is an extreme luxury and a distant memory. I want to give myself to others and listen. I want to care more than I do now. It's somewhere buried in me - or maybe it has never been planted? No, it has been planted. The seed of compassion is always there. Let's just fucking water that shit, shall we?!

Friday, March 2, 2012


I have started rereading (or maybe reading for the first time?) my blog, starting from the beginning. October of 2008. Meg: Same Girl, Same Problems, Same Long-Windedness, After All These Years: Now a Major Motion Picture.

What if my blog actually became a major motion picture? And after being manhandled and going through various revisions, it ended up as a buddy cop flick starring Adam Sandler and a Wayans brother? Or maybe a space western with an erotic twist at the end? What if all of this actually happens? You know what, it just might. Stranger things have been known to happen (such as frogs falling from the sky in Serbia in 2005 - LOOK IT UP!!!).

Here's something strange: Things are really really really quite good right now in my life. How and why and when and do I deserve this and can I fully enjoy it or should I be guarded a bit more and step back a little and be ever so cautious? I don't know. I don't want to be. I don't want to put up those infamous Meghan Walls (gonna trademark them). I don't want to have to have control, to have to have order and routine, to have to have keep saying "to have to have" (because it's starting to confuse me). I want to let go. I want to let all of it in. I want to get rid of the Meghan Walls®. "Tear down this wall, Mr. Gorbachev!" And of course by "Mr. Gorbachev" I mean "Ms. Wiemer."

Meghan, you are a lovely person. I wish you could see that more. I wish you would trust yourself. You were born with a wisdom that just needs to find its way back home. Allow this wisdom to penetrate and soak into your skin. Return to your bones.

And I love you.

Thursday, March 1, 2012

great eastern sun

The inherent brilliance of us all just made me weep.

You are beautiful, you are magnetic, you are goodness.

Please please please know this. Know how much each of you mean to me. I will make you know. I want others to be my center; I want compassion to guide my life and my decisions.

We suffer and stumble and sink into sadness. We can stay there or we can see the sun rise and reside in that world.

Return to your roots. Rest in the peace that has always been with you - that IS you.

You are loved you are loved you are love.


From my corner
I watch you build your house
from debris;
a receipt from Grandpa's whiskey,
Dad's lost stamp,
God's robe,
Godzilla's left foot.
You spot my love letter
and use the "forever yours."
The prayer flag will bring blessings.
But something is missing
to tie it all together.
A rope;
or at least a piece of it
to hang your history.
It's mine, too.
Your entire nest is mine,
but my feet are too big to take refuge.
Refuse my own blood, I'll join you,
solitary bird.
Threatened with extinction
our baptism
will set us free.
(And leave the nest behind,
it's nothing but the corner of the world.)