Happy New Year.

Pizza Pringles and Tropical V8 Splash...

...to my face.


Seriously I am drinking straight out of the jug, and I got these Pringles maybe 15 minutes ago and they're already a third gone.


On the bright side, Mom's cooking the duck tonight. Probably going to whip up the fresh turkey liver from the turkey we killed the other day as well.

I should really start a food blog...


These Pringles are so devilishly addictive.

HATEHATEHATEHATEHATE YOU PRINGLE MAN.

Morse.

._..  ..  _  _  ._..  .     _._  ..  ...  ...  .  ...

I Close My Eyes to See

Christmas? Really?

I didn't ask for anything.

I didn't want anything really, nor did I need the miles of ribbon and yards of wrapping paper concealing "surprises." I hate all the Oh-it-was-nothing-don't-worry-about-it's, and the ceaseless flash of the camera, capturing the moments of undressing the little boxes and hidden treasures. It makes me feel sick.

Knowing that someone else out there wanted these things, and got nothing.

Knowing that I didn't want these things, and got them, and still am kind of happy about it.

I feel guilty with all my gift cards and shiny new things. (But, I still... like them... which further sickens me.)

And it isn't even over yet.

This is the fourth Christmas this week, not counting the visits to my porch some of my friends made to pick up paintings I had done for them. I still have at least two more to go. Christmas at Mom's and then Christmas in the mail.

Honestly the only "present" I was looking forward to was seeing the smile on your face when you opened things from me. Really, all I wanted this year was to lay in your bed a while longer while you ran your hands through my hair and predicted the future. Like some sort of magician or fortune teller, come to seduce me. I'll take off my clothes and lay here for you, waiting for sweet words and little kisses and morse code. Really all I wanted was just to wish you a Merry Christmas and eat even more dessert and hold hands and joke about the mistletoe overhead.

I wanted to give you this puzzle piece that fits to mine. I want to remember this holiday happily.

I never liked Christmas, though.

I just like you.

It is Hard Not to Hate

I'm trying not to hate you.
But I can't help it, really.
I mean, I know it wasn't your fault.
But I honestly don't care.


Because, I swear, if I ever run into you somewhere...



You don't know me. I don't know you.
Let's keep it that way.

Everything

Wet Moccasins

I am a child.

Inevitable.

Your eyes are a milky blue, with sagging eyelids too tired to hold up your expressions of surprise and joy any longer. "I'm getting too old for this," you whisper as you quietly shuffle, grown shorter in your spine, through a mall full of teens looking for thrills and the latest trends. You longingly look at their posture and their lively legs. You glance at your worn cane, and back to them. You must take a rest now, so you sit on the bench by the indoor fountain. You watch the water ripple and the young couples kiss and throw coin-wishes into the dirty water. You cannot help but wish it was the Fountain of Youth. You remember your husband and how you used to sit with him down on the boardwalk, sharing secrets and straws at the soda fountain. You lower your head to look at the candles you bought, hiding your worn face from the glowing population surrounding you. Tears begin to follow the trenches in your face, falling from cloudy eyes plagued by bad sight. You hate so much to come home to no one but an old fat cat and a frightened canary. You haven't danced since before he got sick. Then, when he was bedridden you brought him his medicine. You took care of him so well. You remember that morning waking up, and feeling as if something was missing. You tried to wake him. Old woman, it was not your fault. Even if you hadn't forgotten his daily dose the day before, he would have gone all the same. Patience and pills could not save him from old age. And the same goes for you, and all of us.

Am I the Sunshine or the Sickle?

The dark creature speaks with eloquence and has an old-fashioned air. He remains nameless throughout his existance, an imp stationed firmly in the midst of something beautiful, sent to ruin and destroy. But he understands now. He said he knew where the light was, and that it would prevail. But, am I his minion? Am I to follow his path? I do not wish to know his intentions.

In and out of reality, the poor unfortunate host gasps for breath. Sucking the air like a desperate drowner. And I am sat down to listen to the sounds of the mixing, stirring, switching plot.

Are we to fall? Only he knows.

I wish to live forever with the love I have found.
I wish to be the sunshine,
and never the sickle to cut you down.

Become Tragic.

Y

Inspire.

A part of you has grown in me.
And so you see, it's you and me
Together forever and never apart,
Maybe in distance, but never in heart.


- Anonymous

Die.

Go ahead, you scum of the earth.
Please do me a favor.

But on the other hand, is the simple way out
ever the real answer?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


The real problem is in the hearts and minds of men. It is easier to denature plutonium than to denature the evil spirit of man.
       - Albert Einstein 

Wish.

I will just close my eyes and pretend you do not exist.

Then I will open them, check to see if you're still there, and do it again.

Maybe someday I'll forget your name and your need for attention.

Maybe someday you'll realize how it meant nothing.

You mean nothing.

Now...



Disappear.

Shiver.

It's weird when you can't decide why you're shaking. Whether it's from the cold dampness of the leaking basement, or the fact that something so amazing as him really exists.

I feel sick a lot. It comes in waves.

I have never felt as lonely as I do now, sitting with a comforter wrapped around me in an office chair, water dripping into the corners of this sinking house.
It's really my own doing for letting things get this way.

The captain goes down with the ship.

Chemicals

Bad Engrish

I haven't eaten much all day, and this strawberry slushie is my dinner.
My friend looked pretty confused when I ordered a drink made of ice, on this cold winter night. My hands were cold and I froze my throat as the sugary drink went down. Cold inside and out, but I didn't care. I remembered all the things that went along with the memory of it. Every time I got it, something good was happening. With Olivia, Maran and Kristin at 11:30 that one night, or the one o'clock trip on the Fourth of July with my mom. But especially... Holding hands with a wonderful boy, walking around in the heat, smiling at the gracious clock that gave us more time than expected.

No matter how icy cold it is to the touch, it makes me all warm inside. The memories of it are dear to me, and I needed them all to become tangible again. The taste makes me remember.

Of Moons, Birds & Monsters

I realized something in my dark, unheated room last night.
Monsters are real.
Everyone has monsters that haunt them, or that live inside them, or evil forces that make them do terrible things.
I have my own monsters. They hurt me every day of my life.
Admitting that all those things that happened to me when I was younger were real is the hardest thing I've ever done. I remember everything, I just pretend I don't. I guess in a way, I'm lying to myself. But you, I can't lie to you. I never could. And I would never do anything to hurt you. I know how it feels to be hurt. I know how it feels to be terrified. I know what insecurity is. And I have done some things to hurt you, but it really isn't me; it's the monsters that are inside us that come out to hurt. Fear, insecurity, anxiety, loneliness.
I grew up afraid and confused. I never believed that anyone could love anyone without hating something about it. I was convinced I was worthless and that I had nothing to look forward to. I was convinced I'd die alone, and unloved. I've been used and lied to, and tricked, and hurt, and let down. Been kicked around and dented and beaten up. All because I live with constant confusion and suffering. There isn't a day that goes by that I think about things that have happened to me. Whispers, laughter, mocking, lies, questions, shaking knees. I never told anyone but you.
They deserve to burn in hell for what they've done. The monsters that haunt us, tangible and intangible. I want nothing more than to take all the ugly away. I want nothing more than to completely drain the toxins that cause our memories to blur and skip days. I want nothing more than to have our real consciences be in control again. I hate the the things that have happened.
But, you know... I don't think I have ever loved you more.

Lost Coastlines

It's really ridiculous that I cannot write a personal statement to save my life, yet I can post billions of words on here almost every day.

But, how am I supposed to summarize my life in a paragraph? How am I supposed to let them know who I am?
Do I even know who I am?

Sometimes I wonder if I'm just scared to admit that I do. Sometimes I'm scared to be myself.
I'm afraid I might hurt someone.

I'm getting closer and closer to the independence I've always wanted, but I feel as if I will always be weighed down by everything I've seen and heard.
The mile markers give me objects on which to count the mistakes I've made. And the further I run, the more things I remember about the past. The drive will be filled with blaring speakers and my red eyes staring out the passenger window. I'll avoid eye contact and communication with the driver, and ignore the piles of boxes behind me.

The scale is still balancing out.
On one hand, I can go somewhere where I will be happy, and get an O.K. education- but likely disappoint my whole family.
On the other, I can go far away from nearly everyone into a whole new place and get a comparitively better education (most likely), but I'll probably be uhappy the entire time.

Really, I don't even want to go to school. All I want is to wake up next to you. Let's stay in bed until the afternoon and forget to call our families. Let's let everything be beautiful for once. Let's try.

Sometimes I wonder why...

... I can't just speak in plain, simple English. Simple sentences. No more metaphors, no more hiding little inside notes.

But I realize, that really...
I'm just too scared of what would happen then.

I have no title for this because I am not clever enough to come up with it.

So, I thought last night would end up a total drag. I debated just skipping out and staying home, sipping tea all by my lonesome. But then I realized really "I am only thinking that it will turn out bad because I am worried from past experiences". I guess I label things alike too much. I decided to go and give it a try.

First off, there was horse shit everywhere in the streets. The carriage rides have started downtown, so that was interesting enough. I giggled to myself at the piles in the middle of the road, thinking how lucky I was that I had a cold and couldn't smell it.

I ended up having a great night, with some unexpected people. Laughing and yelling at each other, making awkward motions and sound effects. Laughing at our friend up in the front of the room, the Korean kid in the rice hat, singing five seconds of "She Bangs", styled in the way of William Hung (Really wanted him to sing Deck the Halls, A Christmas Story style). Paining our way through some tone-deaf performers. Singing the hell out of Bohemian Rhapsody.

Really, the two the three or four or five (or more) of us had some laughs. We went to Burger King, saw more familiar faces, and a man in a Turquoise sequined jacket. We threw french fries and took pictures of our shoes. Sang parodies of Poker Face. When she drove me and another hitchhiker friend to our homes, I wanted so badly just to stay in the car and keep driving with them. "Just keep going," I mumbled. "Forget the turn. Forget the rules."
My heart dropped as "It's down here right?" was asked by the other passenger. "I KNOW WHERE SHE LIVES! DUH." "Well, SORRRRRY I was just making sure because you said to tell you where we were going, so I did."

No matter how disappointed, I laughed quietly in the back seat, and looked at the plastic Halloween masks in the floor of the car. My laughter stopped. I wished I could wear one and just be somebody else, somewhere else for a day.

But they'd know what I was trying to pull.

I got out of the car, said goodbye and half-begged to "all do this again sometime", and shut the door behind me. The sound of the tires pulling away made me feel sick. No more pretending to be older. Back to being young again. Back to reality.
I sighed myself to sleep.

And Sometimes I Feel Like Nothing at All.

Sitting on my bed today I re-stuck the handcrafted robot sticker on the headboard over and over, running my hand from the bottom to smooth the detachment back to being plastered above my pillows. I kept thinking of you, all the little notes and scribbles I would find in the back of notebooks or on mysterious  scraps of paper. I miss that.

Truth is, I need you. You're the only person that's kept me in the right place. You keep re-sticking me to the place I belong, even when I hang precariously half-pasted, ready to fall and be crumpled at any second. You always smooth me back out, make me sturdy again.

So, there I sat with a blanket or two on my head, wrapped around me. My whole body shaking with cold chills and the occasional dry cough. You're like a bowl of soup. A much-needed remedy, but far away. A magical fantastical cure just out of reach.

Sometimes I really wish I would've gotten my license.

Constellations in Letters

The past few days have been absolutely wonderful for me. I read old letters, and looked at scribbles in all my filled notebooks. Little punctuation marks everywhere, leaving spaces for breath and finalizing meaningful phrases, etching them in lead or ink into the generic lines- they look like little constellations between all the words.
It was beautiful as I layed back on my pillow and gazed at the little marks. Periods following, emphasizing, such sentences as "I love you." Or the word "Forever." So pretty it made my eyes well up with happiness. It feels good to be alive.
I think that headache I had the other day was all the terrible things being blown to smithereens inside my head. Or at least I like to think of it that way.
Last night I sang on a stage for the first time in ages. I was shaking. Not because I was nervous, but because I was so incredibly excited. I wasn't used to the feeling of being so optimistic and confident.
Last night when I was falling asleep I had a feeling I have never felt. I was so absolutely carefree. I didn't have any worried thoughts or sadness before I went to sleep. I thought of how wonderful my life is, and how lucky I am to be here. I thought of all the people that mean so much to me and how they've changed my life. (You know who you are.)
I am going to forgive and forget and let people be who they want to be. I am going to be content with the life I have and see every day as an opportunity to do something wonderful. I want to make people smile. I want to smile. I will make things better. I will be a better friend and a better person. Everything is going to change.

I have never felt so alive.

Stop Killing Yourself

Just kind of sucks that you decided to go get fucked up

Suddenly It's Not So Hard to Say You're Alright

He made me listen to this song, I don't listen to it often. I honestly have a problem listening to songs that consistently make me cry. Not because I don't like the songs, but because I just get so overwhelmed. "Kathy With A K's Song" by Bright Eyes.

The lyrics really get to me, it's almost as if he was the one singing it, and I'm Kathy. (Though, I'm glad my name isn't Kathy, I never really liked that name all too much. But that's sort of besides the point.)

Well, I listened to it, and I got so overwhelmed that I felt like I had to write about it. That's what I always do. I let my emotional bucket overflow onto the keyboard and spill out sentences and paragraphs and pages of things I don't have enough room to contain. Not sure if anyone will read this, but if you do, please listen to the song if you haven't already.

Some people will likely hear it and be indifferent or depressed because they currently have no one and feel as if they never will. This may be true. They may never have someone like I have him. Alone. Maybe they want it that way, maybe not. But it happens.

And to know that it does tears me apart. Comparatively, I feel so undeserving of what I have, there are so many people out there who deserve love like this. Just to know that they might never ever find it, it kills me.

I think about other people a lot. What they do.

I think about all the people who are sitting alone in their apartment with a thawed out, microwaved Stouffer's lasagna sitting alone at a table meant to seat two. They'll eat half and save the leftovers for tomorrow.

Tomorrow, when they have to eat alone again. Tomorrow when they sit and watch Scrubs re-runs on their thrift store couch. Tomorrow when they check the answering machine to find no one has cared enough to call. Tomorrow when they cry alone in their bed wishing they had someone to hold on to.

Love should belong to everyone.

Why is the world so incredibly shallow? Why are people so misunderstood? Why are people eating alone?

I'll ask myself these questions as long as I live.

Together.

I want nothing more than to just lay half-asleep in between antique sheets from childhood with the rain tapping softly on the tangerine glass of the Sanctuary, with you holding me quietly, your hands in my hair. I want to wake up to your sleep-soaked face after a night in which we stayed up too late, doing things our parents wouldn't approve of.
But, at the moment I'm sitting at a computer in a house in the middle of nowhere, I'm full of sushi, it's cold, my hair is a mess, and I was supposed to be asleep by now. I miss you terribly, and I find myself wishing I could just go on auto-pilot, or fast forward to the part where I don't have to be more than two inches away from you.
I don't know when those days are going to come. I don't even know if they're going to come.
I sure hope so, though.
I've got it all figured out, you know. I already picked out the color of our bedroom walls and all the art I'm going to hang around the house. I know I'm going to make pancakes AT LEAST every Saturday morning. And I know I will be happy. And I want you to be happy, too.

Honestly, that's all I've ever wanted. Happiness and the things it entails.
Including sleepyfaced mornings and pancakes. Including everything I can ever give and provide for you. Including all our dreams.


Isn't love beautiful?

Honest.

When I find words and courage, I will write what I think.

Ask Me a Question. I'll Write You an Answer.

I'm on my own, [I never do anything right]

I love you so much that it hurts my head

(Untitled)

You wonder why I feel so alone

at night when I'm listening to the radio

sitting on the green futon where

we used to sit together

on the same broken couch

you first kissed me on

Well you're not next to me now.

Why do maps cut me like knives?

Why do mile markers hurt my eyes?

A postcard with a picture

of blue and purple southern mountains

"Wish You Were Here"

in pretty script at the peaks

would never have

enough space to write in

We're just a million little gods causing rain storms...

...turning every good thing to rust.

(That quote is a line from the song Wake Up by Arcade Fire.)



I cause way too many problems for myself.
I realize now that I first need to get over my own insecurities, ones I've really always had, for anything to ever get better for me and the people I surround myself with.

Problem: I don't know how to go about doing that.



These days all I ever think about is college, and deciding what I want to do is quite stressful for me. All I can really think is that I want to be as close to him as possible. But, at the same time, I don't want to limit my opportunities. However, I feel like if I was, say, at the same school or something, I'd be overall a much happier person, and more inclined to do my work.
But, it could go the complete opposite direction as well. Who really knows?

I guess I just need to think more about everything. I'm really trying here. I just need help.


Also...
Friends are hard to keep around. I hardly see any of them anymore. But, I spent my Saturday night surrounded by a lot of people. I never really realized how much I liked these people.
Then after that, I rode in a car with a rarely-seen friend and someone I had never really talked to before. We went to Sonic. She payed for my slushie and my cheese fries. My best friend showed up and we danced in the parking lot. I wasn't wearing any shoes. We sang the Yeah Yeah Yeahs at the top of our lungs at a stoplight.

I need to do that more often, I think.
And I need to live up to my words this time.

Next time I want to see someone, I'm gonna do it. No more second thoughts or changed plans.
It's not all talk this time.

In Ruin...

...in shambles.

No amount of band-aids and lollipops is going to fix this one.

I might have to get my hands dirty.

It's a price I'll have to pay.

I may have to stay up until sunrise.

If that's what it takes.

You know I'd do anything for you.

In My Next Life

I will take more time

to ponder the world at large.

I will also become

the world's fastest runner

and win an Olympic Gold Medal,

beating all the foreigners

who run with the wind in their heritage.

I will be the first to cure cancer,

and I will receive a Nobel Prize.

I will shake hands with all the diplomats

and bring the world peace at last

Then, I will destroy it all,

for the sake of the tragic flaw.

Wait, Wait, Wait, Wait, Wait. Days, Days, Days, Days, Days.

Walking back, our tongues stained

by mumbled plans, our mouths

saturated with the taste of Chinese.

You didn't expect to see me that day.

Stumbling awkwardly, out of breath.

I didn't know what to say anyway.

I forgot how all this felt.

Only an hour and thirty minutes.

You asked if I was alright

for my breathing was strange

I said I was fine, not to worry.

I tried hard to be calm.

We got to your steps.

You went and woke him up.

We turned up the music.

I tried hard to make it right.

I love you like I hate being alone.

Desperately, fully, and without

any sense of direction at all.

It's all a big adventure.

Nothing is set up in concrete.

Maps always change shape.

Just move with plate tectonics.

Just believe in what you said back then again.

So I'm Proposing a Swift, Orderly Change...

I'm trying.


Stay with me, here.
Never give up.

Paper and String

whispering in string and cup telephones
makes our walls paper thin
we can hear eachother's secrets
miles and miles away

unravel all the rope
from the spool and talk
from an incredible distance
miles and miles away

still hearing your thoughts
your laughter crackles
and breaks through the static
you're miles and miles away

Thoughts That Scare Me

We really don't know anything.
We're all so very small under the sky.
Space is nothing...
What lies after?


Will we ever know?




I'm not sure if I want to know
where our fleeing spirits go.

Sweater

So, tonight is the first Open Mic of the school year.
It's going to be different, with a lot of the usuals gone. Kind of upsetting... I'm honestly not looking forward to it. It's just going to remind me of how much I miss people. Hopefully, my friend is coming with me. Otherwise, I'm going to feel pretty awkward. There's not a big mesh of family-type happiness and such this year. It's almost too calm, to the point of being somber.

Other updates,
I'm wearing a cardigan. Daniel's mom gave it to me. It's really colorful and exciting. It makes a gloomy day less bland.

I got a film camera. Going to get some batteries for it, and start taking pictures. I miss the excitement of film.

I kind of want to get a Holga, and the same camera Daniel has, a DSLR.
But those probably won't happen at the same time. Ha.

Ugh. My chest hurts terribly. Feels like someone's punching my lungs. I've been coughing a lot.

Hmmm... nothing else much to say, really.

"Now we all know the words were true in the sappiest songs"

It's Not What You Look at, It's What You See

"Your eyes are like the antique globe in my grandfather's office. They tell of the places you've been," I said.

See everything inside out. Gutted intentions spill the truth. What they thought they could hide is revealed by a glance. Most of the time, just keep walking past them. See the ugliness inside, and their ruined morals. Keep plotting the course, moving on to find beauty...it rests somewhere in this world. The map is stained and ripped and yellowed; the journey has lasted years. Finally here.



"Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know."-Ernest Hemingway

Ice Age Coming

I felt like doing some kind of stream of consciousness Thom Yorke-esque rambling.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

air fills me up

as i float to the top

the lights are shining

and i've got no money in my pockets

outer space is there

but i haven't built the rockets

opportunity is calling

and i haven't got the time to answer

i'm at the table eating dinner

i kindly acknowledge my neighbor

pretend i'm not drowning in the atmosphere

this land so foreign

the thoughts i've been ignoring

without you here

i just can't function

JJaAcMkIE (jack and jamie vice versa)

Shut up, you meddling kids.

Things I've Been Listening to...

The Rural Alberta Advantage- a band out of Alberta, Canada. They signed to Saddle Creek and their album, Hometowns, gets a lot of plays on my playlist. My favorite song off of the album is The Deadroads.
Neutral Milk Hotel (Jeff Mangum)- Increasing amounts of people are listening to this once-unknown band. They released their most well-known album, "In the Aeroplane Over the Sea" back in the late 90's, I think '98. Though they are coming back as more popular after their re-release of the album, more people should know about them.
Radiohead- They are so UNDERRATED. They have released, in my opinion, some of the best songs in the history of Alternative/Experimental Rock music. (ie. "Videotape", "My Iron Lung", "Idioteque") Thom Yorke's voice is one of my favorites in music, and they never disappoint me.
Brand New- I listened to this band a long time ago, slightly, and was reintroduced to them a few months ago. They seem really out of place in this list, but I can't get over them.
Death Cab For Cutie- I've always loved this band because of their amazing lyrics, Ben Gibbard is one of my absolute favorite lyricists. I listen to Transatlanticism the most out of all their albums, but I personally love their cover of the song "This Charming Man", originally by the Smiths.
Elliott Smith- Sadly, I got into Elliott Smith after his death. His songs remain a huge influence in my writing, and his album XO remains a favorite of mine. He is also a great guitar player, and I hope to match in his abilities some day.
Bright Eyes/Conor Oberst- I'd say Conor's stuff is the most listened to out of ANYTHING that I have. Amazing. What more can I say?
Matt & Kim- This duo is so fun, they make me want to burst into silly child-like dancing. No matter where I am.
Rilo Kiley- Jenny Lewis has a fantastic voice and vocal style, and The Execution of All Things makes me want to sing at the top of my lungs.
Wilco- At first I didn't care for Wilco, but after their songs kept coming up on shuffle, I became attached to songs like "Kamera" and "War on War". Great innovative band.

Gardenhead

As I pulled the plant by the stem I heard the ripping of fibrous roots. "Just a weed," I sighed. I'd been pulling so many, my hands started to ache and it made my eyes water. Purging the bed of flowers of the life-sucking stalks. Just like I'd been doing for months- ridding my world of things that brought me down. Five, four, three... how many now? Only three? Three flowers left in the flowerbed.

Turns out the others were just weeds. Sometimes you have to wait and see them bloom before you know. They open up all rotten and ugly and you just have to keep pulling them up.

But you can hardly ever get to all of the roots.

I pull up the vines as I water the garden with my eyes.
"Just weeds," I choke. Just weeds...

Honestly...

I feel terrible these days.
Only thing that keeps me around here is his voice on the phone, and my writing.

All these things I say "I don't care" about, especially the goings-on of the late... well...

they hurt me. I feel so incredibly insecure. I feel like I'm doing something wrong.
But on the other hand, I refuse to believe it.
I am flawed. Everyone is.
No one is perfectly HONEST or PERFECT, and I'm not trying to change anyone.
I'm not pointing fingers, I'm not name-calling or making accusations.
I merely try to express myself...concerns, beliefs, etc.

I feel like I'm preaching on deaf ears.

I'm Building a Shrine (For You)

Aspartame and acid
burns holes in my stomach
It's just from the Diet Cokes.

Is it a side effect of missing him?
Is it from the ironic interpretations of late?
Is it from the insecurity I feel
when I'm labeled overconfident?

I killed your pride.
But you got revenge.

There's No Design Without a Fault Line

You are perfect,
you excel with your intelligence.
You answer every question posed.
How prophetic, how profound.
Everything you say is beautiful.

But have you ever checked the facts?

You are useful,
you work with such diligence.
You finish every task you start.
How complete, how precise.
Everything you build is beautiful.

But have you ever checked the math?

You are sorry,
for you let everyone down.
You have failed your family and friends.
How miserable, how depressed.
Everything you've done is gone.

But were you ever really right?

Self-Reflection

[I wrote this in Advanced Composition on Friday.]
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I am a metaphorical genius, figuratively speaking.
I am a sheet of music composed of noise, nature, and the hollow lies that you mistakenly took as facts.
I am the rumor spewed from the tongues of people who don't even know how to spell my last NAME! I AM THE SONG BLARING THROUGH YOUR DJ-QUALITY HEADPHONES THAT MAKES YOU CRY YOURSELF TO SLEEP.

(I am quiet without these words on paper.)

I am nothing without my haircut and my guitar, because you label me as some
FAKE. HIPSTER. TRASH!...

...I label you as LIAR and keep walking down the tracks.

The Atmosphere of Saturn

When sleep doesn't help
and you don't remember your dreams
sigh into your pillow
and cease to exist.

Hold your breath and drown
deep in the sea of sheets
and and keep putting off
the same things you have for weeks.

Lunchtime Rambles

I ate my wrap and now I'm in the library trying to pass the time.
Today I get to leave early and go pick him up, then we're going to mom's house for the weekend. I'm entirely too anxious and I keep watching the clock. The seconds tick by like days.

So here I am, wasting time, and wasting letters in a blog that no one will think is interesting.

Do I care? Not in the slightest.
I do this for myself. And myself only.

This is my outlet for all things that live in my mind and need a break from the confinement.

So here I am.
Again.

Mom should be leaving soon. Takes two hours for her to get here. I'm leaving early today. Leaving from art class. Kind of a bummer, but it's worth it.
I get to see him today. :3

I've been having random giggle outbursts all day. I haven't stopped fidgeting since I got up this morning.
I was so excited I nearly gave myself third degree burns with the curling iron. I was daydreaming and clumsy. Like I always am when I have something to look forward to.
And this is DEFINITELY something to look forward to.

I misspelled reminiscent in AP Lit. I spelled it reminiscient, which is wrong. Obviously.
I hardly ever misspell words. But I'm pretty anxious about today so it makes sense, I suppose.

Oh, as for my new title for my blog and such.

"I read more maps than books..."
is a line from a Brand New song.
I've been listening to them since my friend gave a bunch of their albums to me this week. NONSTOP. Can't get enough. I'm a sucker for great lyrics and a mix of rough and beautiful. The vocalist can deliver enough power to make me want to punch through a wall (Sowing Season), and enough great acoustic and melodic songwriting that would make me want to sing until my lungs burst (Play Crack the Sky).

I haven't cried today, which is a first for these past two or three weeks.

It's because I know I'll see him soon.
Within 4 or 5 hours, in fact.
...
I just got butterflies.

Sic Transit Gloria... Glory Fades

I'm sitting in Desktop Publishing class, with nothing left to do.
I'm ahead of the class, since I've used Publisher many many times. So I've finished all my projects, and I'm sitting next to Ryan and listening to Brand New. He's watching me type.

Anyhow...

Trying to pass the time until tomorrow. I miss him so much.
I can't wait for the weekend, it's going to be amazing.
All this time apart, with the (SNEEZE) school and stuff has made us both kind of on edge. We both need time to relax together.

...I haven't gone a single day without crying.



I love you so much that it hurts my head.

My guitar seems to be "fixed" now. It was buzzing too much when I played. Maybe it was just because of me taking it from the basement to my room over and over again. It's now in my basement, waiting for my return like a loyal pet.
I can't get enough of the D'Addario's. They sound great.

"Ohhhh we're so c-c-c-c-c-controversial"
-Brand New: "Okay I Believe You, But My Tommy Gun Don't"

:sigh:

Oh wait. Okay I just remembered something that's going to make my day a whole lot better.
I packed leftover stuffing for lunch. Mmmm.

I have AP Government next. Which is kind of lame. The class is kind of boring. It's like, basically a more in-depth version of all the other History classes I've ever had. We're learning about the Constitution. Again. The only thing that makes it interesting is when I talk to my friend HxC Hicks. :p

Oh.
I thought of something that's worthwhile to talk about.

Tuesday night I went to CVS and bought some stickynotes, a pack of gum, and some mascara. Then I walked the usual route past Dave's Auto, down past the old warehouses, and the railroad tracks, and then to my house. But I spent the entire time walking to places we used to go together. I stared at a fire escape for 5 minutes. I took a picture of him there...
It was really sad, and I cried a lot. I saw 23879847 people I knew, just walking around.
That's why I hate it here. Everyone knows everybody.
Can I just be anonymous for once?

Sometimes I just want to disappear...

As long as you come with me.

"The Oldest Of Trees"

He help open the door for me.

I knew this boy was special the minute he asked me about my music. The minute he offered his screen name. Some kind of swooping happy shyness overtook my mouth as he offered to help me with my things. "It was silly," I thought at afterward, "to fall in love with words." But "Anytime, missy" was just the kind of classic gentleman language I had so been deprived of.

Yes, I had been deprived. Like some kind of potted plant on an old woman's porch. She was forgetful, so she never let the light in. Never let me quench my ever-growing thirst. Only rain and sad songs could keep me alive. But the same things that aided me kept me awake at night. I was a moonflower, only a vine by day. By night, I was white and luminous bloom. Pale skin and better intentions than those they credited to me.

So, when I received this boy's name and email address, I felt renewed.

""I'm really here?"

I've said it over and over ever since.

But, at the beginning it was not the love I know of now. We barely knew each other, so it seemed wrong to them. They called me a waste.

And the worst part?

I believed them.

But he, with that kind gentlemanly hand, pulled me from that old woman's brick porch. He took me to the Amazon. It was a wild place full of life and sound. I got tangled in the roots that ran deep with mystery and vibrance. They ran deeper still, with past woes. But together, it was mutual. We thrived together. We shared everything. We plan to be the oldest tree in history.

He held open the door for me.

I knew for sure I loved him.

And I've said it over and over

ever since.

This pain in my head...

...and in my empty chest.

They won't go away

until I can see you again.

I miss you.

I stayed up. I'm sorry...

Who will I hold on to desperately while I brave the crowded halls?

What am I going to do when I don't have your hand to lead me through the deathtrap of awkward teenage bodies?

I've got mixed emotions about you leaving.

On one hand, I am scared and worried. Sad I won't be able to see you all the time.

On the other hand, I'm so happy for you. You get to pursue what you love, and you get to learn, and meet people.

'Meeting people' probably is held in both hands of the thought.

I really can't even express what I'm feeling right now.

It's the most overwhelming feeling I've ever felt.

It's warm. It's cold. It's desperate, and scary. It's beautiful.

It's. Everything.

You are everything to me.

I'm having trouble even forming sentences. Let alone seeing the letters on the keyboard.

I'm having trouble remaining composed while typing this, and trying to text another friend.

I've broken down every day since I realized there was only one week left.

As if I didn't have enough trouble sleeping...

I'm sure not many people will even read this. Even if they did, I doubt that anyone but you and I would understand. It almost makes me angry that most of the world doesn't even know this feeling. They settle for what they think is the best, because it's the best they've seen. When really, it probably isn't half as good as what we have. It makes me angry, because it isn't fair. I wish EVERYONE could feel this. All my friends, even my enemies. It should be something completely accessible to everyone. Because it's the only pure thing in this world.

And everyone deserves some light in a dark place.

I wish they knew.

But we know.

I am going to spend the rest of my life with you.

If someone really doubts that, or has any skeptical thoughts about it, that's okay. Because we'll prove our point when we grow old together.

I remember what he said about the verse from Waste of Paint.

I remember what she said about getting invited to our wedding.

I remember the spider ring in the car.

I remember when we got married in the yard, with the umbrella full of flower petals.

I love you.

Please Forgive My Tasteless Tongue

Here we are, hippies in the shade,
on blankets made of woven reeds.
We never sit still.

In the old orchard,
where the fruits of knowledge grew.
We never ate from the trees.

My shoes are too tight.
I never wore them in.
I never wore them.

Subway Station Starling

The slick reflective cobblestone

makes raindrops dance in puddles

when they touch. 

The heavy sun-bleached awning

of the old antique shop

cascades mist

as an urban waterfall.

Finding its way down, 

    d

      o

        w

           n ,

into the dark of sidestreet drains

and dampening the box-homes 

of the homeless. 

Alleycat sings its song

up to an apartment brick wall 

in the darker side of town-

drained out by a window unit,

made to cool one 

lonesome inhabitant.

Sleeping alone

on a mattress on the floor. 

Debating with one's self

never

produces a winner. 

As a light flickers 

strobe morse code

inside a vacant phonebooth,

a man walks- 

with no umbrella-

whistling in freeverse a sad tune.

Starling bright,

singing under a curtain 

of fog and street lights.

A single car

drives to a curb corner

and stops.

Inside a man sighs

and wonders what went wrong.

All the songbirds lonesome

collectively agree

"The city isn't the place for me."

And headlights reflect

off wet decrepit streets

under those leaving all of it behind.

Down the highway,

to a place with trees:

"That city was never the place for me."

All the Hanging Tapestries

The girl with gardens in her hair

watches the sun rise

from a Mexican blanket

up on top of the hill

overlooking the construction site

She cries

"What's left here for me

but puppet strings and blasphemy?

I'm so sick of masquerades

and sitting alone while the whole world fades"

The boy with moonlight in his smile

drives straight into the horizon

just trying to get away 

but love seems more impossible

with every exit he takes

He sings

"What things lay ahead of me

but a broken heart and monotony?

I'm so sick of being alone

and I'm never going home"

Sometimes...

...I feel so tired:

of certain expectations

of certain words

of certain someones...

I'm done trying to change things and be part of the "crowd", so stop expecting me to just bend to your "so so sorry's" and "let's be friends again". 

I'M NOT HERE FOR YOU TO MAKE A FOOL OF ME AGAIN.

No matter how many times you try and deny the part you played in all that ridiculous stuff that happened... I know what really went down. If you've got a problem with me, say it to my face... I'd much rather hear it from you than someone else, days later. 

I've been thinking long and hard about things. Sometimes I miss you. Sometimes I really just want to punch you in the face. I will exchange compliments, but I can't promise to try and hang out with you. Because... I don't want to. 

So I'm done thinking about it. 

I'm just... done. 

the trees above me are gray and green

my back is down

pressed against the narrow concrete.

my head to one side

everything is superimposed 

at an awkward angle

and it's making my head hurt.

you make my head hurt.

why do you have to go?

stay please

remain in quiet refrain

listen to the stereo

and be happy

if only i see you for a while.

you make my head spin.

your pale thin arms hold me

like a spiders web. 

glistening in the dim light

you've got me trapped

i can't escape your eyes:

i cave. 

and when you're away

it makes my heart ache.

and when you're near

it makes my knees shake.

so come be with me now

we'll go nowhere

and we won't do anything

but that's all i need.

come be beside me.

with you i am free.

you're all i'll ever need.

Either the city disappeared, or I did.

Walking in the crowd 

in traffic pattern

on the right-side portion 

of decrepit sidewalk.

Bounding relentlessly,

bouncing elbows.

Through clouds 

of cigarette smoke.

Past blackberry calls.

Deflecting the beggars

and overgrown egos

all in one single stride.

I feel alone 

in the populated mass.

Either the city disappeared,

or I did.

Either way,

I'm not going back.

Back to the small-town

and endless first name basis.

Back to the picket fences

and rows of quaint houses.

Give me shattering skylines

composed of glass and steel

all in monotone by day,

a blinking rainbow by night.

I disappeared

in a crowd of thousands.

I'm dodging glances. 

Just try and pick me out.

Tracking

So we are chrome organisms

All shining brightly polished 

in the late light of this late night

You all use telephones

talk to machines, dial-tones

yellow pages stained with desperation

Held up on a platform

epitomize the norm

factory-manufactured

We are the prototypes

this was all just a test

they never got it right

Warm humid pollution

stains your aluminum lungs

you're used to the taste

Where are the birds?

They've flown, they've gone

done what you could never do

While you're trapped

tracking steps with satellites

Where'd you park the car?

i only find relief in the sound of cars in the streets...

yesterday i went for a walk. by myself. 

now this is quite irregular, as i usually hate being alone on walks.

but yesterday was...different...to say the least.

I had a revelation.

I discovered what is the matter with me lately. 

In all truth... I just need OUT. 

Out of this damn waste of space town

with all these waste of blood people.

I need to be in...

a REAL city.

New York, Chicago, Los Angeles, San Francisco. 

Ah... New York.

I need the smell of pavement and curbside stands.

I need the taste of exhaust fumes.

I need the feel of crackling gravel and the click of high heels on concrete. 

I need the blaring of horns as a lullaby for when I sleep.

I need the endless possibilities of daily life:

"Where shall I go today?"

I'll ride 1 from Broadway to Houston St Station

and go wander through Greenwich village.

I don't need to know where I'm going.

I live in THE city. 

Or I will someday, at least.

i don't sleep

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It's about 2 am. I'm still awake.

Why?

I don't know.

Anyway.

I figured I'd try and post something worthwhile.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I love the way the light shines through broken buildings: the glow of the sepia-stained glass through a rusted metal skeletal structure on a blue background of sky.

I love the way the stars blink morse code, repeating wishes that were received from below, acting as satellites.

But there's something I love more than anything.

Daniel.

I love the way he talks, the way he thinks, the way he smiles, and the way he holds me.

Never before could a kiss bring me to tears, and at the same time, stop every worry in my mind.

When I'm with him, I am free.

When I'm with him, I am myself.

And if this is true, I will be freely myself for the rest of my life.

Forever, babe.

blog blog blog blog

i dyed my hair

i was going to write something all amazing and artistic and inspired by Bright Eyes...

but im on the phone with my love.

i'll save it for another day. =]