I want to thank you for emptying my cup

Fri, 19 Oct 2007 16:58:12 GMT

Contact Info

McKenna Holman

2652 Oxford Rd.

Berkley, Michigan

48072: (248) 672-7121

Home Page & Email

winklove@gmail.com

Desired Position

Assistant Chef/ Barista

Experience:

From: 10/04 To: Present

Assistant Chef
Waitress

Farina's Banquet Center
Berkley, MI

Food Preparation and Execution

Kitchen Sanitation

Food Inventory and Ordering

From: 11/05 To: 11/06

Barista
Baker

JavaHutt Cafe
Birmingham, MI

Drink Preparation

Pastry Preparation

Kitchen Sanitation and Inventory

From: 04/04 To: 08/04

Barista
Dishwasher

Cafe Del Sol
Floyd, VA

Food and Drink Preparation

Dishwashing

Concert and Artists Booking

From: 01/04 To: 04/04

Barista

Joe Picasso's
Fort Lauderdale, FL

Food Preparation

Drink Preparation

Kitchen Sanitation

Education:

From: 08/07 To: Present

Oakland Community College
Royal Oak, MI

Awards

F.A.P.A.P.A Artistic Merit Scholarship

Computer Skills

WPM; 98

Other Interests

Photography, Literature, History,Baking and Cooking

References

Available on request.

Created By: Rainbow Arch: Resume Wizard

Sun, 05 Aug 2007 18:25:36 GMT

I've been back home from NYC for about three days and I feel so out of place.
I miss him and the way we were together and the hardest part is that I want to go back and do it all over again.

NYC

Sun, 24 Jun 2007 15:58:35 GMT

I've moved again.
I moved last week to NYC and I have a job now so the next three months shouldn't be so hard financially. I've been having a blast so far with Ed and his friends and all the stuff we do.
Play pool, chess, connect four tournaments and going to Coney Island yesterday was so much fun. I was dressed as a mermaid for the mermaid parade and Ed was dressed as a pirate, so I guess it made sense when he threw me into the ocean along with all the other mermaids.
My job is really cool too, I work at a Latin restaurant as a waitress/counter girl/catering chef.
Everyone there is really nice, my boss is a woman named Sandy who look just like my mother only she's got a little but more of the hippie vibe and less of the cynical smart-aleciness that my mom has. I don't think you'd ever catch Sandy calling anything ghetto-mcjankity.
Anyways, update later.

Ramble Ramble Ramble.....

Tue, 22 May 2007 15:47:22 GMT

I really just want to write about how much it sucks to bitch about stuff that sucks. Bands sell out, bands suck, music loses it's importance and it wasn't that big a deal in the first place. But, then, the feeling I get hearing certain music, certain sounds just revs me up and makes me wanna dance and get all that extra space around me full of jazzed up energy. Fuck, I hate that, summer makes me miss old ska and punk and I'm not even that much of a "fan" but I do miss the summertime feeling that comes from the music. Maybe I just need to know what it's like to be on my own with that fun fun fun feeling whenever I want it. I wish I had more records. I wish I was in a band sometimes or that I wasn't just trying to get that feeling from music by fucking musicians. God, I hate musicians.

BIG D AND THE KIDS TABLE!

Mon, 21 May 2007 19:09:28 GMT

http://youtube.com/watch?v=szlErXP9Cnc&mode=related&search=

FUCK IT TIL IT DIES!
WANNA BANG?

Fuck X-Mas

Thu, 17 May 2007 15:54:58 GMT

I hate christmas but I love(d) No Doubt

here ya go....

http://youtube.com/watch?v=7ZjoJXAjXY8

More Photos for AIDS awareness

Thu, 03 May 2007 16:48:54 GMT

More statistics, more photos.....

Wed, 02 May 2007 18:30:53 GMT

This is the number of women in Sub-Sahara Africa who have contracted AIDS within the last five years.
AIDS Statistics Poster is a project I am working on for the Triangle foundation and The Ferndale Gay Straight Alliance Center.
If you have numerical statistics, please send them to me.
-Kenna

Tired

Thu, 26 Apr 2007 15:34:26 GMT

I'm tired of dealing with this.
Yeah, okay, I realize that throwing away matte boards wasn't your fault, but it does put a damper on my wallet and when I ask that you help it doesn't look good when you say you can't yet you have the time, inclination and MONEY to get stoned off your ass.
What a fucking child, thanks for putting a dent in my relationship with my mentor.
Fucker.

Mon, 23 Apr 2007 16:00:49 GMT

I've held the dreams deferred in my palms and watched them carry away.
I've held the memories of latter days and saints episcopalian redemption.
I've held the far off lost look of my mother, my sister, my sister, my aunt, cousin, lover, rival, friend and foe.
I've held the smell of retreat and the sound of defeat.
I've held the cheese glowing neon green in the palest moonlight.
I've held the unmentionable elephant in the room too small to fight it.
I've held little girls dropping paint bombs and pieces of shattered glass looking towards the west and wishing the canvas burned as brightly as the buddha sunrise, sunset, it's not over yet, no one knows the ending like that pigtailed maniac.
I've held eyes enraptured on screen ticking thoughts back into the netherspace without a trace looking for another face to answer back and tell me everything will be the same again, soon.
I've held be bopping busses bouncing down the dusty roads looking for a ponce de leonesque fountain when we hadn't lost our youth.
I've held burning electric psychedelic jazz fusion and barely felt the burn.
I've held my mother tongue and hoped someone who hear my intrusions to conversations.
I've held the unknown need for a period mark while waiting for a period mark and holding my breath waiting for my period---mark
I've held conversations on distillations of fluttering language and exhilations
I've held contempt and regret and sunrise and sunset and never never never said a word
I've held more than anyone could ever prose or piece a word of feast or feast of words and soaring like birds that trace the outline of the wind
I now exhale---

Mon, 23 Apr 2007 15:47:06 GMT

God Fucking Damnnit.

I'm spoiled, you've spoiled me.
Carried me off like jewels in the spoils of war.
Like contents under pressure, I am diamonds now.
You're spoiling me.
Like fruit, heavy with ripening and weighing itself down,
Waiting to be plucked.
You've spoiled me,
I've waited past being good and become something else.
I'm spoiled.

Tue, 17 Apr 2007 16:45:07 GMT

The only fucking thing that comes out of my mouth on this page is a mixture of ani difranco lyrics and boo-hoo-hooness about missing and kissing and needing, wanting, grasping for shit that shouldn't be shat about.

Yes, the year was good.
No, I was no faithful.
I know now that this was from a mixture of taking a rebound much too seriously and my inability to voice what was wrong with me in the first place.

(That too. I write too much about how much I hate myself and my self afflicting behaviour.)
(P.S. I write my "behaviour" and "colour" european style as I am fancy to the extreme!!)

This isn't fair to him, but I don't feel bad any longer. I made mistakes and while I feel the gravity of them I do not think that the folly of youth is anything to feel awful about.

The problem with this is, I do feel happy now.
Happy alone, happier now than I have been since before I met Josh and before I started thinking that my worth only equaled what my signifigant other thought of me.
I'm glad that I made him more assertive at least, more sure of himself.
I'm glad that I realzied how much I DO NOT like being around clingy people and the emotions they evoke.

This is a really stupid rant, not made for you, but me.
-KLH-

if you're going to be a self-hater......

Fri, 23 Mar 2007 18:46:28 GMT

She was just another stupid girl. I could tell by the way she used words that weren’t really words, hyphenated Franken-words like “redonkulous”. She didn’t twirl her hair, and her clothes hadn’t been given much attention; but the way she flung her hands about, flicking through the air, made me want to scream. We hadn’t even spoken more than a handful of words and I was assuming she wouldn’t mind, or at least notice, my hands clasping her around the neck and bashing her malformed skull into the concrete table.
But, as abruptly as her verbal spasms had started, they stopped and I was able to focus on the other things bothering me that day. All the women around me seemed to have the same affliction of stupid on their slack-jawed-mouth-breathing faces. “Why is it,” I wondered “the natural course of women to be ignorant?”. I’d found over the years little space for change in the matriarchal spectrum of Detroit City and thought it almost overwhelmingly funny that the same traits I hated in others I flaunted through what I assumed was my own dazzling wit. Why was it funny to be the immortal flibbertigibbet when I was the one doing the gibbeting? Why was it that no one else had the poise, nay, the pizzazz to pull off the feminine cosmic joke? Of course, it never came into my head that I might be placing myself on a pedestal of intellectual stature, because if you know that you are in a high place you can always fall down. Fall I did, right on my self-righteous face as the girl in front of me whispered “You know this is an act right?”.
“What?” I murmured to her, unsure of what she had meant. “You know, this is an act, the hair, the clothes, the lisp. I mean for god’s sake who talks like that?” I shook my head at her in amazement and wondered what could force a woman into such an act when my sense of reality nailed me with a two-by-four in the backside of my head. “Damn.” I thought “I really need to quit nodding off like that, now, where are my keys?”

Tue, 20 Mar 2007 18:20:21 GMT

This time, it's for real.
for real, for real.

Wed, 07 Mar 2007 19:31:20 GMT

There's nothing that could even remotely make sense right now.
I wish I knew all the words to that Queen song "I want to break free" so that I would always know the words to it. That way, whenever I felt the need I could just start singing it and know what I'm really working for.
Yesterday, was weird.
It made me realize how much different my entire endeavors have made me and how I react to the people and situations around me now.
More doubt, more fear, more annoyance.
Haha.
So silly to think that if I hadn't had this experience then I might have been the kind of girl who is always being taken in by people. I know, I know, I always think that everyone is so sincere when really I hold my cards as close as anyone does.
But why doesn't the entire world trust like they should?
I know I don't, I shouldn't, I almost couldn't without the help of hours and hours of discussion and discourse.
ARRGH....
Lovin' it more than ever hurts a little but the ache fades.

"I give you bitter pills in a sugar casing. The pills are harmless, the poison's in the sugar."

Tue, 13 Feb 2007 13:31:12 GMT

This is ridiculous. I've never been so non-conflicted and so stuck at once in my entire life.
And the last time I was stupid enough to let myself make a choice as good as this I ended up fucked up and let down so hard that I never thought I'd be let up again.
So, what do I do? I remain in Limbo. Of course.
OF course, I am tired of never seeming happy.
Damn.

Fri, 19 Jan 2007 19:43:22 GMT

It's always just the chill of reality that stops me short of my dreams.
Hi Dad, I know you're there. I love you.

I feel like there's a massive case of dehydration on the part of my soul.
My soul is not quenched.
And also, why does the indecisiveness of women always become their demise?
-K-

Juxtaposition Photography Show

Wed, 17 Jan 2007 16:59:31 GMT

Fri, 15 Dec 2006 16:13:23 GMT

Holyshit.
Listening to George Clinton and the P-Funk makes me so happy.
I immediately think of the Stephe making goofy assed faces and pretending to be Bootsy.
Hahaha.
Just sitting here, laughing myself stupid.
-K

"I don't swim, or dance, I don't swim or dance. I might get my hair wet."
-Sir Nose

You should be dead, if you meet me you will be.

Wed, 13 Dec 2006 19:36:28 GMT

I want the past to stay an arm's length away.
Is that too much to ask? Sad to say, I was finally going through my old e-mail account and decided to go through all the old junk and boot it out. I had a collaborative effort of over 200 e-mails and digital camera phone pics to delete. All of them from Josh.
What happened? Did I just allow myself an extended mental absence, or ab-sense as I would like to have it referred to as. It hurts to think that I saw so much for such a price. I have the memories of a year that we ran from the cold weather. Everytime the cold came up, we raced to warmer climates, haha, it seems silly now but I think we were chasing something elusive, I know now that this is very very true.
I lived an entire year within the confines of a car, a garage, a sofa, a shack, a tent and finally a home.
I worked in every place I was a part. I worked when I had burdens. I worked when things were rough.
I always kept up my part.
I guess that's what happens when you don't keep yours. I wish he wouldn't call, not on my birthday, not on anniversaries, not holidays, nothing.
I guess that's what happens when you mean the world to someone and you fall apart. When your world falls apart you can't remember anymore.
By the time the train left town I couldn't remember his face, calming in a way but mostly a shock, I remember the almost bitter sugary sweetness of the first french toast breakfast I'd had, alone, in months. I remember the regret and anger I felt losing every ounce of that old life during hours upon hours of exercise, just so I wouldn't look like that girl you knew in any way.
I want to try and recall your face just so I could feel something. But I refuse to recollect and dig up the corpse of our unfulfilled life together.
I'm writing a book about you, about our time.
Maybe then I won't wake up wanting to tear you a new asshole.

I'm told this is better when I fixed it, but here's a rough draft.

Mon, 30 Oct 2006 01:40:50 GMT

Cafe au Lait

"I'll have a small-decaf-non-fat-sugar-free-vanilla-latte for here. But can I get that in a to-go cup?" I lean behind the ominous black post and murmur to my co-hort "Small vanilla latte, hold the soul."
My smile, beaming back at the bleached-out-velour-jumpsuited-valium-induced-coma of a woman reveals nothing of my cynical status and for this I receive a tip. A whole quarter, she leans across the counter and whispers in a sisterly way, conspiratorial even "You earned it!".
In a perfect world I would jump over the counter and karate chop action this woman into the oncoming traffic, but alas, my only revolution lies in my ability to control her morning coffee and so, whole milk and caffeinated espresso in hand I prefer to do the damning will of the mischevious java gods.
I am the sole proprieter of the cynical nature of West Coast coffeeshops in what would otherwise be a dry, lifeless place. Java Hutt, purveyor of WiFi, peanut butter squares and an overindulgence of yuppie greed. My place of business, who though it oh so pained them to do so, finally sold out to "The Man". This from the owners of a small local business that prided itself upon being "outside the norm".
With 24 hour service, a friendly staff that would always remember your signature drink or sandwhich, and big leather couches that had seen many a drunk through many a lonely sleep.
But what makes it most charming, what makes it worth the drive out to the Purgatory that is Birmingham, what makes it intriguing to be found at Java Hutt at any time is the signature cast that can be found even when they aren't working.
Because everyone realizes that James the night manager can't sustain himself on toast and Red Bull alone.
Walk into Java Hutt on any given day and you'll find an entire crew of folks that make you feel as though you've stumbled onto a John Hughes film, there's Thomas out on the street taking his fifth cigarette break and his shift started 2 hours ago. James would be on his right, with his specially blended tobacco that smells like Earl Grey and Cherries just enjoying a pipe after having biked all the way from nowhere to "just stop by".
Ruth would be frantically trying to pick up the slack while dancing the night away to the newest Erasure track. Mounim's behind the counter checking out "all the hotties" while counting down the hours he has left 'til he can go home to the wife and daughter he loves. Eva's singing showtunes and doing the dishes...for the past three hours. And then there's me, insulting everyone that approached the counter with a witty retort and racking in the tips because even yuppies appreciate a good burn.
The reactions of the team are what keep people coming back time and time again. The random war cries of the coffee coup of "Yee-ha!". Poetry battles with James, late night renditions of Broadway musicals with Eva.
Snakes on a plane and rampant Spanish La Bamba with Ruthie.
Why lose all of that for more bandwidth? Why lose all of that for the chance to sit for hours on end and disconnect from everyone in the one place people are ment to connect?
A Cafe is a place to discuss, a cafe does not deliver what one comes for. No one comes for coffee to a coffeehouse, they come to engage and exchange what ideas remain at the end of a long and arduous day.

Fri, 27 Oct 2006 21:14:49 GMT

There's a space that never seems like it will be filled.
With one portion of one lover and another of one other it seems like I was doomed to find my love lacking.
And oh yes, you could say that this is the way of women but then how would you explain that I am not so ordinary.
I am scared for my love with my lover, I am scared for the fling that I covet and I am terrified of that boy I worship, though he is only a boy he holds my heart in a way that no one else could and thus, he is my downfall.
HE is so immature to the point of being a child but he holds the world within his eyes and that scares me so much.
Why am I carrying flowers for someone I barely know?
Why am I rebuffing my future and running away from everything, is it the turning of the seasons that provokes this every once in a while?
Is it the turning of seasons that reminds me of my mortality and terrifies me so much?
Why should I need to pretend to be so strong when I feel like the whole world is looking at me sideways.
I fuckin' want it all.

Thu, 26 Oct 2006 22:01:42 GMT

Passing the trees on a passenger train with shakles of metal carressing my skin.
A trelis of treetops finding soil to take root.
Ah, what have you?

I miss him.

Wed, 25 Oct 2006 22:26:14 GMT

Something about talking to a woman who likes you that makes you feel better...
You don't have to tell her your problems, you can talk about anything.
You can talk about the weather.

"PLUSH SAFE" HE THINK.
-JMB-

To an older wiser someone.

Mon, 16 Oct 2006 17:01:18 GMT

I cannot cope with the dark, organic taste of your skin.
Me, like a china cup and dainty, you who bruise too easy.
I wish to pop the cork you strain against with the carbonation of frustration purring out into a growl.
I asked you to speak to me in German.
And as exotic syllables caused the arching in my feet I knew within me, your words meant little, being repetitious grammar school inflections.
I had not drank of you and yet you mentioned that my breath was tinted with the scent of coffee.
And as we curled our toes upon the kitchen countertop we thought, silently, that as this night begins with two who promised not to break promises that end in heartbreak;
With their lips sewn shut to the memory,
Two eggs were broke and swirled into the night magic of a tryst no one could see coming. The jukebox singing "Oh Harlem, Oh Harlem, Oh Harlem." and you strainging against my skin murmuring "Straight up!".
The morning curling threads of light against the Detroit night and I still haven't left your arms.
To mix cream, and sugar,sugar,sugar with you would be effortless and indirect.
You, who offer to brave the night jungle without the aid of Bohemian's Rhapsody to find my secret pleasure.
You, who touch my toes.