What I Aim To Do

In the next two days, I intend to come up with my New Year's resolutions. Unlike so many of the empty promise-makers out there, I actually stick to mine, and I remember them often throughout a year.

Last year's [though unposted] included being nicer to the Italian, practicing patience when dealing with idiots, and focusing on my own happiness when I would have otherwise forgotten it.

I'm happy to announce that I was successful on all three. Though minimally, I considered myself to be nicer to Scarface overall [it's just so hard!]. I tried my best to be patient with the morons who attend my school. I also learned more and more about happiness, and have come to realize exactly what kind of life I intend to lead in order to be happy.

For 2008, I'm going to come up with eight new resolutions. Some more specific, some strangely vague. But no matter the level of detail, you can bet I'll stick to them.

Will I promise to get into shape? Of course I will. I'm a bit pro-health. Will I swear to "fall in love"? Lol. Yeah. Lemme see how that turns out...

For now, however, I will not bore you with the details. Expect more from me in a few days, when I've had more time to think them over and word them correctly.

Until then, keep it real. Abbs is out.

XOXOXOh,Xmas...

Ah, Christmas. My least busy time of year. We sit around the fire as a family and drink hot cocoa from coffee mugs that never spill, and light pretty candles to make the room smell like gingerbread. Presents magically appear under the tree, and we each unwrap our hearts' desires with bright, white smiles and shrieks of joy. We spend the rest of the week lounging in our matching plaid pajamas, wearing hand-knit sweaters and reading classic novels in the wee hours of the morning...

Ha [snort]. Yeah, right.

My Christmas break sounds like something from a movie played fast-forward. I've baked hundreds of cookies so far--literally, hundreds... probably somewhere near three or four hundred--and the celebrations have already begun. I did my last-minute shopping at, well, the last minute, and I am bewildered to proclaim that the holidays shall now commence.

Yesterday was my "Christmas Eve" with my father, and today was our "Christmas Day." I spend tonight and tomorrow with my mother and her immediate family. Wednesday I'm with my dad's family, and I spend the weekend [Friday-Sunday] at my dad's as well. The 31st and 1st are quite obviously dedicated to a New Year's get-together, and the 2nd of January is Thena's birthday.

Thursday is my only day off, in case you can't exactly picture the week in your head as I am right now [because, of course, you're suddenly panicked and overwhelmed]. All but Thursday are peppered with plans.

It's not that I don't like Christmas; it's that I get an overdose. I love my family and I love my friends. I love to give my cousins and aunts and uncles gifts.

Anything can be "good" for you if it's taken in moderation. But a surplus is just... well, a surplus. Let's hope that I can push through this week and still keep a smile on my face.

Happy Christmas, everyone. Rest as much as you can. :]

Check Your Ego [Before I Check it For You]

I can't stand the arrogant. Or the egotistical. They make me sort of nauseous.

But their one redeeming quality--in my eyes--is that they provide me with a continuous, enduring source of entertainment.

Lol.

I Stand Alone

And the words "I believe" come from mouths of agnostics
While great mountains fall and the valleys, they rise
So much is reversed, so much reflected
In the largest of fields, I stand alone
And the people are vanishing
The people are vanishing
I smile to myself because I stand alone
Through the mess, through the war, through the hate and the crime
In the tightest of corners
I still stand
Alone.

--KB, 2007.

Lesson #20: Here, Take This--It'll Give You 5000% Your Recommended Daily Dose of Reality.

Another Wednesday. Another week half over. Another 10-pm, mind-can't-sleep, words-won't-write, "world-gone-mad" blogging session.

I found today that while Americans may lack vitamins [you know, the alphabet], the thing they lack the most is a sense of dignity. A knowledge of what to say, when to say it, how to say it, and--most importantly--to whom it should be said.

So here, in the midst of a wickedly bizarre Wednesday, I propose a Lesson #20:

Give the world the finger.

Give your thumbs-up to the people you support. Give the "hold-on-a-second" index to people and projects that should wait. Give the middle to those bastards who aren't worth the space they occupy. Give the ring to the one who deserves it. Give the pinkie in promises to your best friend and keep the promises you make.

When one isn't enough, add on some more. Show your thumb, index, and pinkie to say I love you [ASL]. Proudly wave the index and pinkie at a concert. Use the thumb and index to call your friend a loser when you're goofing around. Use all but the thumb to be from Star Trek. Hold up the middle three to be a Girl Scout.

And when those combinations just won't cut it--when life demands the ultimate sacrifices and leaves you with nothing--battle on with fists bared. Fight with life until your knuckles and defenses break.

My world, your world, his world, her world, their world. It's all in the palm of your hand.

Snowed In

I woke up this morning without a family. At first, I thought maybe they'd ran to the store to get something or other for breakfast. I stumbled from my room, tripped down the stairs, and went to the front window.

Um, no store. They were outside shoveling/attacking the eight.5 inches of snow we'd received throughout the night. :]

Of course, it's a whole day early for me to even consider the possibility of a snow day, and the inclement conditions have all of us trapped within the confines of our own homes for the duration of the day, but I'm still excited.

It's so pretty. Having grown up surrounded by ridiculous snowfalls, you'd think that I would be desensitized to its beauty. But I'm not. I still love the purity and glossy shimmer of a brand new snowfall.

We'll be having blizzard-esque weather for the rest of the day, and throughout the night the snowplows will come through and trap us all in our driveways. The main roads will be cleared and covered in salt to kill the ice, and anyone who doesn't have perfect traction on their tires is doomed to drive 15 mph under the speed limit [naturally, almost all students have awful tire traction... Ought to be a fun ride to school tomorrow].

Mmm. Michigan weather. To all of you who live in and around my home state, good luck getting out of your driveway tomorrow morning. :]

"Grant" Him a Life Sentence

If Stephen Grant doesn't get locked up with a life sentence, I will move to a different country.

He murdered his wife, dismembered her body, and hid the pieces at a local park. I've been to that park! I was on the beach right next to the location of his wife's body parts!

My parents' tax dollars are covering this guy's behind. Not only paying for his food, but also his medical bills [recovering from almost freezing to death, remember?], his lawyer, and his shelter.

He should have never been rescued from the freezing forest in the first place. What loss would he have been to society? Not much, I bet.

What a total sicko. Sick, sick, sick, sick, sick. If he only gets 10 years for dismembering, I will move [if I can...].

Even more terrifying is the fact that these deranged people live among us every single day, waiting for the moment to strike. Every day on the news I hear about another shooting in a mall, or a school, or a home... Each day there's more to learn about death in our world.

Answer me this: What's the point of living in the first place, if we're only going to die? And don't give me any crap about "happiness," either. If you don't exist, you don't know if you're happy or sad. You won't be anything at all. You're nonexistent.

Life has no purpose, I've come to see. It's worthless. If it can be stolen so quickly, so easily, then it must not be very valuable.

And yet I keep on living! I don't fear death in its entirety, but I do fear pain--a fear that keeps me firmly grounded in the reality that I must protect myself from any course of action that could be damaging to my well-being. But if my life is worthless, then am I worthless? Am I nothing more than nothing?

I am. We all are. It's not pessimism, it's the truth. Suck it up and keep on truckin', 'cause the world's not getting any better.

Not even a little bit.

Música :]

Yep, I've done it. I added a music player to this blog. Sorry if it scared you when you opened the page. :P

But I was getting sick of just talking about all these songs I love. It's so much better to play music than to just sit around and discuss it...

If you don't like it, it's at the bottom, so you can turn it down or shut it off. Whatever you feel is necessary. Oh, and feel free to play any of the songs there [that's why they're there...].

Have fun, folks. :D

Favorite Post Awards [2007]

I was just sorting through all of my old posts on this site. Some were good, some were bad, and some were just plain stupid. Yet I don't regret any of them...

But these are the favorites of 2007 [so far]. Click the link to read:

¿Cierto o Falso?
Permanence
All We Do is Kill.
Yarn and Plastic
I'm Laying Down My Gun
Bodies Recovered: 0
To Those Like Me
Connections
Plan Be
Sock It To 'Em
For a Moment
It's Simply a Difference of Opinion...
Gasp! :O
The Essence of Evil, Hatred, and Pure Distaste


Have fun, readers. You've already read these, but I felt like sharing them again anyway.

Oh, and I'm not crazy. I just reread some of my old posts. I didn't write some of them very well... make me sound like some nutso...

But whatever. Better to make a joke out of it and just laugh off my failure to predict how those posts would be interpreted.

At least you know what goes on in my head. :D

Please Don't Rip My Arms Off; I'd Like to Keep Them...

This will be brief, because I need to go to bed as soon as possible:

Every get the feeling that there are imaginary "people" [stressors, really] that are tugging on all of your limbs, threatening to tear you to bits? Yeah, that's kind of what I'm going through.

I did homework all weekend. Literally, all weekend. From 3 pm Friday until 10 pm Sunday. I got minimal breaks to attend a play on Friday, eat, and sleep, but other than that I was working my bum off.

How about that sensation that you're barely hanging on to the edges of a bottomless hole? Your hands are slipping on the crumbling dirt, and all the people have come to watch you fall...

I'm having a rough week. I just hope it goes up from here.

-Abbs is [muy cansada, y] out.

Ojos

Ah, eyes. My favorite. Yep, that one's mine. I'm pretty sure, anyway. The glare changes it a bit...

The funniest part about that picture is that the flash made my eye look a hundred times brighter than it actually is. Though they are indeed boring brown, they're usually darker... Very close to black, really.

But they're so interesting. So deep. So much can be revealed in the eyes--secrets, lies, emotions...

I just love them. No matter the color, shape, size, whatever. I love eyes.

Is that weird? Eh, probably not. You all love them too, you just don't express it. And that, of course, can be seen in your eyes. :P

Gah. Spontaneous outbursts. I need sleep. Goodnight, world, and all who inhabit it.

I Can't Believe It's Not Butter

Actually, it's not butter. This has absolutely nothing to do with butter, not even the teensiest bit.

Of course, if it did have something to do with butter, I probably wouldn't have used that title. I go for the ridiculous, don't I?

Anyway, my good news is this: Starting Friday night--approximately three hours after my last post--my writer's block was broken.

It began slow, my recovery. I started out small and forced myself to write and write and write until it felt like I had carpal tunnel [which I probably do have, after all the hours I've put in on that silly laptop]. Next thing I knew, BAM! Like magic, there were words! Fragments! Phrases! Clauses! Even sentences!

I so badly wanted to scream in my joy, but I felt that two o'clock in the morning was not a good time for that. And I really didn't want to celebrate before I knew if I was cured, either.

So I waited all day Saturday. I hung out with friends, watched some episodes of Brothers & Sisters with Aphrie [from the season we both missed], and then scampered up to my room to click and clack on the keyboard.

Staring at the screen, I took a deep breath. This was it. This was the moment.

And I could write again.

So Saturday night was spent reveling in the glory of my newfound happiness. No longer bound by the chains of unoriginality, I could be myself again, and write.

Abby's back, folks. Abby's back. :]

How much longer can this last?

I regret to inform you that I, Abby Morgan, have just entered my FIFTH WEEK of very intense writer's block.

My symptoms are severe: inability to outline events, problems in plot, lack of decent sentence structure, and so much more... It's quite possible that this is a fatal strain.

I sit at my laptop in my bedroom and just stare at the screen. Anything I type gets deleted as soon as I reread it, because it always sucks. I'm going to go crazy if I have to destroy another fifty pages of text.

It's a writer's worst fear, isn't it? To be chock freaking full of ideas and yet unable to write them.

I have, minimally, three books to finish. Possibly four. They've all been started, they've all got at least thirty pages of a good beginning... I want them finished. I want them to be done. I can see the whole plot scrawled across the empty planes of my mind, all of the answers to my poor characters' questions scribbled in tiny print down near the bottom, and yet I can't write.

My very worst nightmare--the inability to write.

I absolutely hate this.

Eileen

If I wanted a song to express the way loss tugs at my heart, I could not find a better one than "Eileen," by The Hush Sound. It's absolutely perfect for my particular situation.

When you get the chance, listen to it. Not only is it perfect, but it's also beautiful...

Lyrics:
Dear, you left too soon, went to the next room
If you haunt me, I'll sing for you
The hinges move, connecting me and you
It's a doorway you're knocking through

We walk down a dock, and the water's cold
You want me to escort you
Oh, I'd love to go swim with you in death
My heavy heart won't let me tread

So I must stay on the shore
I am young, my blood warm
I can take you this far
Now my love, we must part

When blood and youth were warmer
We breathed summer like the sweet air
We found each other like a mirror
We were so optimistic, it was so easy to be
We were young and naive

Can you pull down the dawn?
It's been so dark since you've been gone
And we've been begging for the morning to come...

We'll be fine in the morning
It's getting late, so we must sleep
We'll see you in the morning, Eileen.



Oh, and happy Thanksgiving, everyone. :]

Abby's Back

You may have noticed [or maybe not...] that I've returned my blog name to Abby. Yes, this change is significant. Yes, it has meaning.

I decided--after much deliberation, I might add--that trying to take on Artemis's name wasn't working for me. I may resemble her characteristics at times, but I truly am Abby. It's not my real name, not even close, but it's me. I'm an Abby. It just fits.

We've been through this before. Abigail Christine Morgan is the name that fits me best.

But why did I give up on Arty, a name that seemingly fit me just as nicely? Because the "goddess" in me is no longer a part of my present life. I can still identify with her, and I will never be able to forget how it felt to belong to a group of strong, courageous women who knew their path and weren't afraid to take it. We knew what we had to do this summer, and we did it. We completed the task. We overcame all obstacles of time, space, and reality that threatened to break us down.

Like all things, that beautiful summer had to end. Our time in the sun couldn't last forever, of course. We finished our job and went back to the real world, with school and work and extracurriculars and such.

Do I regret who I was in July? The dreamer, the one with all the hopes and wishes, the one who wasn't afraid to defy reality? No, I don't. I can't regret it. It was me.

But that reality, that world of dreams, could never be enough. I am human. I belong in this world.

So Abby I shall become yet again. Arty has been laid to rest, my memories of her existence bottled in my writing and my thoughts. Some day, when I have finished it, there will be a novel that tells the tragically heroic tale of seven girls who had the nerve to venture beyond the boundaries of their own reality. A tale that deserves to be told.

You may not understand what I'm talking about, much less that drastic change my life is undergoing. You might even think I'm mildly crazy for caring so much about my stupid pseudonym. But I'm not crazy, and I'm not stupid.

My identity means so, so much to me. I know my birth name, and I know my surname, but they aren't my identity. I strongly believe that everyone has a "true name," an idea I'll admit that I stole from all those silly fairy novels I've read. The concept was too real for me to ignore.

I may be wrong, but I'm pretty darn sure my "true name" is Abby. Yes, I know the loony fairies say you're not supposed to tell anyone your true name... But last time I checked, I wasn't a fairy, so I think I'm okay.

Seriously. Not a fairy. And no more mythical short jokes, guys. Nobody likes being called an imp, or a nymph, or an elf, or a fairy...

A Tidal Rhythm

I'm sure it's been proposed before, and I'm sure you've heard it a thousand times. I'm almost positive that there is nothing new in my epiphany--as I have so loosely classified it--and perhaps you will find that you shall leave your computer feeling no different than you did when you sat down.

I truly do not care. You ought to know that by now. I write for the sake of writing, for relieving my mind of everyday stresses, the ones that fester and wallow within my soul until I come to the conclusion that I have found either a way to live soullessly or that I never had one in the first place.

Maybe I've been living that way my whole life. Maybe not.

But my epiphany--it concerns perpetual motion. The kind that science claims cannot exist. All things have an end! Nothing can last forever!

Ah, but there's my point! Right there, in the last line. You see it? You can sense it, too? Can you taste the answer on the tip of your tongue?

Nothing lasts forever. Nothing can go on perpetually. Nothing.

So many cannot comprehend why I prefer silence over sound, calm over calamity, peace over perplexity. It is not that I am simply adverse to the clashes, booms, and quakes of life; no, I am far too able to adapt to those to hate them. And seeing as I can find no real thing wrong with my brain--having not been sufficiently addled to leave me insane--I must conclude that I am merely introverted. Intrapersonal. Intrinsic.

If we are made into something by our interactions on this earth, then I do not see why I could not become nothing. That way, having been transformed into the most sincere and least selfish form of life, I could last forever.

I am not so naive as to suggest immortality. Do not think me foolish, for I know my mortal limits all too well. But if I were to effectively be nothing...

Obviously, there are flaws. A being, composed of mind and matter, could never actually be nothing. And being the furthest kind of creature from perfection, I am more than aware that this is a goal I will never be able to achieve.

But it's a nice thought. Cease to have a hold on the material things, and enter a world that is entirely your own. Release your grasp on anything but yourself, and you become something so much more fulfilling than your average human.

All this, coming from a silly, babbling teenage girl, may seem hard to tolerate. I do not ask for your tolerance. I do not even ask for your ear. You are free to go any time you so choose.

I, however, am trapped within myself, forced to think these strange, disconnected thoughts until the day my job here is finished. Naturally, that could take a hundred years more...

Until then, I am caught in these perpetual waves of change, time, and nothingness. If only I'd brought a life jacket...

Inspirational Quote of the Week

This may become a weekly thing. Maybe. I don't know.

This one makes me think of the past summer and a good portion of the school year. It literally screams of the crazy adventures Thena and I went on [along with my other Greek girls]... So much of me was utterly consumed by the fairytale life I had the pleasure of leading for nearly a year. I can't let it go.

If you had everything you'd ever wanted, could you let it go? Even though our fun and games weren't the molded version of reality, they were still my reality, my own world. They were everything to me.

I leave this quote in memoriam of Thena, Paul, and Ryan--may you never forget what once was.

Oh, and this was a good book, too...

"Go out to continue your struggle. Go on carrying unchosen burdens, taking undeserved punishment and believing that justice can be served by the offer of our own spirit to the most unjust of tortures. But in your worst and darkest moments, remember that you have seen another kind of world. Remember that you can reach it whenever you choose to see. Remember that it will be waiting and that it's real, it's possible--it's yours."
-John Galt, Atlas Shrugged.

What Doesn't Kill Me Will Only Make Me Stronger

After another long week, a week I sort of wish could already be over [oh, no, it's only Thursday...no satisfaction for me], I find myself wondering how I made it through this one. I'm sure it's a bit of a hyperbole to say that the events of the past week could have potentially "killed" me, but they were difficult all the same.

I woke up on Monday with a headache and stumbled out of bed, only to discover that nothing nice was waiting beyond my warm bedspread. Then there was Tuesday, and the first NHS meeting that we were almost late for. Then Wednesday, with my entire body screaming after dance because I can't seem to keep my knees in their sockets.

And now it's Thursday, and I'm just beginning to wonder if I'm going to be able to stay awake for the school day tomorrow.

My one hope, the singular truth that resounds repetitively in my mind, is that I know whatever I live through can never challenge me again. No matter the tests I face, the obstacles I hurdle, or the brick walls I run into, I will never have to be afraid of those kinds of challenges ever again.

I only have to survive each week once, and from that point on, I never have to encounter that same week ever again. It's like a horrible video game--you beat the first level, wipe the sweat from your brow, recall the difficult portions of the badly animated fight sequence, and thank the gods of Playstation [or whatever it is that's popular now] that you will never have to see that enemy ever again.

Except, unlike you lucky gamers out there, I don't get a pause button. I can't hit "restart" and just magically have all of my health, power, and energy back up at the maximum levels. I also don't get three tries to succeed; it's do it now--and do it right--or don't even bother.

I'd like a refund on this game, please. Oh, you only offer exchanges? I'll take something fun, something Disney or Frogger...

3 more school days until Thanksgiving. I can do this.

"I've Lost My Mind... Oh, There It Is!"

That's definitely one of my own quotes. Funny story--About a year ago, I was intently searching for my hairbrush after I'd just set it down somewhere, so I said [out loud] that I'd "lost my mind" and proclaimed "Oh, there it is!" when I saw the brush on the stair ledge. If my mother had not questioned my sanity before, this certainly set off her curiosity...

Anyway. That's how I'm feeling... Mindless. It's one of those, well, months. There are some days that I wake up and wonder if my head is screwed on straight, or if maybe I'm still dreaming. It's so confusing. Am I really here? Did that really just happen? Am I wearing pants?

I'm going to bed. These past few weeks have seemed to last a lifetime.

How do I make it stop?

I Have Proof!

Some people don't believe in miracles. I didn't really before, but now that I've witnessed one myself, I am a believer.

You're dying to know, of course.

I PASSED MY ROAD TEST!!!

Miracle, I know. But I'm so euphoric right now... It's awesome. Here's to the future, and everything it may hold. :]

Arty is [loving her newfound glory, and] OUT.

I Can Finally Hear Myself Think!

Ahh... a sweet moment to myself. After running around like an almost-dead chicken for the past too many days, I've come to treasure these precious minutes that are for me, and only me.

Nobody here to ask questions or demand answers. No one to "request a small portion" of my time. No preset committments... Except the date with my pillow, of course, but he's pretty understanding about this kind of thing.

You think I'm exaggerating? You think I just have loads and loads of time on my hands, to sit around and do nothing [or blog, one of the two]?

Here's my schedule... for today and tomorrow only:


Wednesday, November 7, 2007-
Sleep
Wake up earlier than usual [or sleep through your six alarms, either way works]
Key Club meeting 7 am
School, starting at 7:20
--Intense Spanish debate prep and homework, 7:20-8:18
--AP Gov test prep, 8:24-9:20
--Mind-boggling Honors English lecture and assignments, 9:26--10:22
--Lunch [except I barely get to eat, because I'm trying to do my impossible Spanish], 10:28-10:59
--AP Psych lecture [seizure-inducing lights on! lights off! kind of day], 11:05-12:07
--Physics discussion, lecture, and lab homework [nearly slept through this one... hey, not my fault the cold lab tables are comfy], 12:13-1:09
--"Filibustering," Greek alphabet recitation, and pretending-to-work-on-homework session in AC Trig, 1:15-2:11
Taco chips [I splurged] and waiting around the Commons, 2:11-2:30
Senior home with Key Club, 2:30-4
At my dad's for dinner and homework, 4:30-7:30
Dance, 7:30-8:15
Back home to shower
Blogging [hey, look at that!]
Reading Eclipse... again.
Sleep.
Thursday, November 8, 2007-
Wake up early again [probably sleep through my alarms, though]
Spanish Club, 7 am
Repeat school day... Minor change--Freshmen Mentoring during second hour [I get to miss a Gov test!]
Possible Interact Club meeting after school until 4ish [please be a figment of my imagination...]
Hardcore studying for AP Psych and my belated AP Gov test
Other homework mixed in
Shower
More studying
Grey's Anatomy at 9? I doubt I'll have time...
Some more studying
Sleep.


I call this time of year my "rinse and repeat" cycle. I get up, run myself ragged, rinse away the muddled dirt of the day, and repeat it all over again.

Now can you understand why I'm so excited to get five minutes to myself?

Yet Another Poem

I was feeling lost, and as my confusion turned to inspiration, I suddenly began to write.

I call this one "I'm Here," and I wrote it just now. Hope it's good enough.



Dear You,
What happened to you, best friend?
You used to be so strong,
And I used to hear you laugh a lot more than you do now.
These aren't lyrics to a song,
They're the words I've always wanted to say:
I miss you, and I won't ask for much
Just a chance to bring you back.
Because I loved you, best friend,
As much as I do now,
And I will always be here,
Morning or night, rain or shine,
Whenever you need to come back home...
-Love, Me.

It's Just... Unnatural.

I'm not perfect, and I'll be the first to admit it. I may have my strengths, but my weaknesses outnumber them greatly--VERY greatly.

However, I find it not only intellectually stimulating but also interesting to attempt something I am terrible at. I love a challenge, and I love beating a challenge even more.

So Aphrie and I decided to cook dinner today. We were both in a "cooking mood," and we found my untouched cookbooks in the cupboard. We cleared the plan with my mother [because I'm a good teenage daughter] and then ran to Kroger to pick up the ingredients I didn't have on hand [which happened to be almost all of them...]. An hour later, we had homemade manicotti on the table. And it was awesome.

Aphrie's good in the kitchen, and I'm not. But I really do try. Cooking is definitely not a natural habit for me; I can't accurately decipher the meaning behind how food tastes [WHY DO THESE COOKIES TASTE LIKE PASTE??], or properly estimate how much of something to add. In fact, I'm so terrible at making food that I have to read and reread the instructions on things like toaster waffles and Campbell's soup if I want to avoid disaster.

Like I said, it's unnatural. Yet I do realize that one day I will actually have to fend for myself, and that will involve cooking. I may even have to cook for OTHER PEOPLE [God bless their souls] and I don't feel like having a murder on my plate [ahaha food puns].

For now, I'll stick to easy things, like rice, or brownies from a box--which, ironically enough, I have found a way to mess up. Let's just pray we don't have another Monkey Bread '04 experience [why is the hallway filled with smoke?].

Have a good one, campers.

All Hallows Eve

I don't really celebrate Halloween, but I figured it would be the nice thing to do to tell all you avid loyal readers to have a happy one.

Get lots of candy, and dress up the way you want. Have a good, safe time, and make sure you're not out on the streets while the loonies are lurking in the shadows.

Happy Halloween, everyone.

Why I Hate Sea Mullosks

Stupid English class. We read "The Chambered Nautilus" today, by Oliver Wendell Holmes. Yes, I understand the meaning (shed your shell and release the past! let go of the old! build your new shell for the future!). But that definitely doesn't mean I have to like it.

Honestly. It's about a sea mullosk. Who has the time to write about a sea mullosk?

So, so irritating. If you're going to spend time writing, write about something interesting. Not a stupid chambered nautilus.

I even feel stupid for writing about writing about a sea mullosk. ARGH.

How am I supposed to "shed my shell" like a sea mullosk? Shedding their shell is just what they do. They don't have to worry about school or grades or teachers or parents or college or stupid extra-curriculars. All they have to do is survive and grow a new shell every once in awhile.

If you want me to be like a sea mullosk, let me shed. If I tried to put the past behind me now, I'd be forever trapped right here. It can't happen unless I want to totally destroy my future.

WHY CAN'T I BE AS SIMPLE AS A CHAMBERED NAUTILUS?

It's October.

I would like to point out to my readers that it is indeed October. Despite popular belief that the month does not exist, I have come to the conclusion that it does, considering that we've been in it for 21 days and I have yet to find evidence to the contrary.

Though there has been speculation that September was going to jump right into November this year and blow off October completely, I believe I am correct in saying that October has indeed happened and does not intend to be "blown off" until November first.

Studies are also showing that Halloween is definitely going to be celebrated this year, despite its rapidly decreasing popularity in the polls. It has also been proven that many people are running out of ideas for Halloween costumes and have abandoned the holiday completely because the entire thing is so irritating to them. Hey, we can't all enjoy it, or then my school would have to let us dress up that day. Can't have any school spirit, you know. It's wrong.

Oh, and "They" would like me to report [who are "they" anyway?] that though it has been rumored that January will be flying directly to April in the upcoming year, "They" will be making no assumptions on the issue until there is more proof of such a jump. Oh, and yes, August will be occurring after July, not after May.

They apologize for any confusion such a statement will create, seeing as the entire globe may or may not have been recently preparing for these strange changes in the calendar. We know you were looking forward to skipping October, but... yeah. Not happening.

Don't worry. If you fill your plate just enough during these transition months, you'll be so stressed out that you won't even notice they're happening, and it will take you 21 days to realize that the month changed. If you're a student, this shouldn't be too hard. Just sign up for every single AP class and join every club your school has to offer. You didn't need sleep, did you?

Have a happy October, everyone.

Complimentation vs. Irritation

It's beyond frustrating. I'm sitting in Honors English [we classmates just call it Honors] and my ears are absolutely red. Not just red, but hotter than hell and nearing the point of spontaneous combustion.

I hate when it happens--it just kills me every time. I do something right, and the whole class reacts exactly as I fear that they would.

They go over the top. They literally "freak out." It's all "ooh why isn't she in AP 12 right now?" and "dang, girl" and such.

SO irritating.

You may think you're paying me this huge compliment, but in all actuality, you're bugging the crap out of me. Yes, I'm good in school. Always have been. And yes, I'm a darn good writer. But seeing as I spend a great majority of my time practicing such a skill, I should be pretty darn good.

Just because I do something well doesn't mean I'm some sort of genius or that I hide out in my bedroom all afternoon reading dictionaries. I pay attention, that's all, and I'm not an idiot.

Thanks, but no thanks. I'll take praise when I've really and truly earned it.

She Knows

She sits in her bedroom and looks out the window, idly passing the time. She knows of the responsibilities that wait for her, whispering her name up the stairs, down the hall, through her door. She knows, and yet she moves not.

She rests in the rolling chair on the grey carpet and watches the wind blow the tasseled edges of the pool cover around and around and around. Though mildly sorrowing to see the pool covered in that dark green tarp, it is not too terrible. She knows it means that winter is coming, and she welcomes the change, the passing of days, months, years. She knows, and yet she moves not.

She rests her head in her hand and turns toward the bookshelf beside her desk, eyes rapidly skimming over the titles of all she's read and not read. Each plot stands out to her for maybe even just one reason, and she can recall them all. Her eyes automatically jump to her bedside table, glancing at the pile of borrowed novels she knows she must tackle before their owners get too anxious. She knows, and yet she moves not.

She lifts her free hand, trembling slightly as she goes, to lightly touch the frames of the closest pictures. The photographs of her friends, her family, her team members and classmates meet her gaze, and she knows of their stories, their lives, their hopes and dreams. She knows, and yet she moves not.

She turns toward the door, noticing for the first time in weeks the date on the calendar. October, already. She stares at the red square, the number boldly dashed in printed ink across the box. Another day she has attended school, attended activities, attended to everything she must attend to. Another day she has done what she must and only some of what she wishes. She knows she has more to do today. She knows, and yet she moves not.

Time passes. The sun sets. The air grows colder in the darkness, and the clock ticks on and on. She knows that she is running out of opportunity to finish what she needs to finish, to complete the daily tasks she finds so odious, and yet so satisfying. She knows.

And she moves.

When she moves, it is not a graceful movement. She stumbles, perhaps, or maybe even falls. But she marches on. As she walks, her posture grows taller and taller, determination brewing beneath the surface of her casual facade. And she marches on. Her confidence builds, becoming nearly tangible as she descends the staircase to finish what she's started so far today.

She marches on.

The drummer is off-beat, but she can keep her own rhythm. The harmony is off-key, but at least the melody is not alone. The music itself is awkward, and strange, but she prefers it to the silence.

It is everything, and nothing, here and now simultaneously. She is all and nothing, human in every sense of the word. She knows what she wants. She knows what she needs. She knows exactly what she will do and how she'll accomplish it. She knows what adversaries lie in her future. She knows how to defeat them.

She knows, and she marches on.

"Students Place Less Value on Health"

Well, duh.

I was looking around the Internet and found this site: http://nz.news.yahoo.com/071008/9/1yyd.html. It's a news article about how kids these days don't put enough value on eating right, sleeping enough, or getting exercise.

Okay, adults, here's my question: Where exactly do you propose we find the time to be healthy?

We get up long before the crack of dawn to go to your schools to meet your standards. Then we attend your classes on your time schedule to meet those same darn standards. And then we go to all of our extra-curriculars after school so we can get into your colleges.

When would you like me to eat fruit and vegetables and such, things that require a) refrigeration and b) at least a few minutes of preparation [gotta wash them, minimally]? When would you like me to sleep more? When do you propose I get my exercise in?

Oh, that's right. I'm free from midnight to 4 am each day. Maybe I can squeeze some tae bo in or something.

I don't get the chance to eat healthy--bagels, Pop-Tarts, and cans of sugary drinks are all I know. I eat a cup of applesauce each day, but clearly it's not enough. I don't get enough sleep each night, stressed by the upcoming schoolwork, projects, assignments, quizzes, tests, and college-prep material all you adults are going to throw at me. I only get 45 minutes of exercise each week, and that's because I scheduled it into my time and have refused to surrender it to any other extra-curricular activity.

You're right, I don't value health. Will my health get me into college? Will it get me a job and a career? No, probably not. My weight and body fat percentage will not be the deciding factors on a college application. My hours of sleep per night will not earn me a job.

You complain about us all being fat--how about a few hours each week to let us lose the weight? No, you'd rather give us meaningless assignments and tedious work. It doesn't change your life at all, does it?

Complain when you've given us a chance to prove ourselves. Until then, you have no right.

Delete.

I leave for school in 20 minutes, so this will be fast [no idea why I'm up 20 minutes too early, but hey, that's how I roll].

I was going through my email inbox and I got this sudden urge to just delete. It felt so good, I can barely describe the elation. I finally got rid of every single email from those no-man's-land colleges that I'll never attend, the chain letters I'll never read, and the sad emails I should have deleted right after reading.

I'm finally putting certain things in the past. Old topics, old discussions--they're out. Time to bring in the new.

Of course, nobody ever emails me anymore [duh, we have school], so there probably won't be any new email... but that's okay. An empty inbox I don't mind.

Have a good day everyone. :]

Magnolias

For you two. Because, as you know, your story inspired me to write one just like it. Your effect upon me created a world I can never enter and a dream I cannot wake up from. You made me question reality, and for that I will be forever thankful. My world would not be the same without the answers.

I speak for Thena--and all the others--when I say I'm glad you got on board the train. Safe travels.

And to the rest of you who couldn't make sense of that jargon, don't worry. I have something to say to you, too, and it's in regular English:

Know where to seek your shelter. Find your hiding place, safe from the world and all its trouble. Whether it be in a journal, or a quiet corner, or even in the tranquility of your dreams, discover the one place where you truly feel invulnerable. Invincible. Undeniable.

It will be in that place that you will learn not only who you are, but what you were born to do, who you will help and who you will hurt, what you will know and what will fail you. Your own sanity cannot be made through the work of others; it's your duty to preserve it.

Don't forget the world. Just let it run by you for awhile so you can figure yourself out. You may not be the person you thought you were, and your future, though not entirely predestined, may not be what you wanted. Do the best you can with what you've been given.

Who am I to lay down these rules, you ask? Well, for one, I'm a human being. Two, I'm a human being with a functioning consciousness. And three, I'm a conscious human being who has traveled the road of the lost and lonely and found a shortcut back to life. [I'd also like to add that four, I'm an incredibly bossy adolescent who likes to tell people what to do.]

I'm not done with the shortcut, either. I'm still walking. Still seeking, still searching, still finding reality.

For you, then, my guides. I learned from you the importance of shelter, and I hope my telling of your story does it justice. In the meantime, I present the song to which I listened while writing the beginning of my most peculiar novel yet.


"Magnolia"--The Hush Sound
Your heartbeat is pulsing at night in your chest
It's gold and it's glowing with all the life you have left
I received your words from hospitals where you felt alone
Your words like smoke, they made me sick but they kept me warm...

Your eyes are like sea glass, so weathered and worn
From all they've seen of adolescence torn
The lovers who have tainted you, they pulled you into the night
They touched your skin with velvet gloves and made you feel alive

Run where you'll be safe
Through the garden gates
To the shelter of magnolias
There's not much time
The blush in the sky begins to fade

You are weathered and worn
Your petals soft and torn
The fading color
You have bent your shoulders
To hold the weight of the world
You will surely shatter.

We Have All Been Blind

It never ceases to amaze me how the people of the world do exactly what is unexpected of them. Yes, I can predict their actions if I watch them enough, but every now and then they do something exceedingly stupid and my jaw drops.

You aren't aware of the cheaters until you catch them in the other bed. You don't know the liars until you fall into their trap. You don't recognize the thieves until they've stolen all your money.

And you never see the traitors until their guns are aimed at your head.

Infidelity, deception, robbery, and treason. You think you're prepared for when it comes to call. Sorry, you're wrong. I'm wrong. We're all wrong.

You've disappointed me, world. Thanks for showing me the secret side of human nature, the side I never wished to see.

You don't need to live in the shadows to forget the sight of light, do you? No. Not in the least bit.

¿Cierto o Falso?

So a very interesting thought crossed my mind today, and I just have to talk about it. It strikes me as a concept that I wouldn't have thought of unless someone else had mentioned it--so I'm glad he did.

A mentor of mine said, in his own words, that when I was in his class, I did not use fact to back up my arguments.

He's exactly right. I didn't, and even though I've gotten better, I still lack in that area. It's not inexplicable, though. Inexcusable, maybe, but not inexplicable.

For one, I had never learned how to back up arguments. Logic and reason failed me, because I'd never actually understood how to use them. I can still remember the first day that this mentor taught us that "if x is y, and y is z, then x is z"--law of transitivity. I thought it was amazing. I was stunned by the clarity that such a simple statement made.

It made sense.

From that point on, I began to learn. I started to figure out how to use support to make my ideas clearer. It began to click, and I became analytical.

But it wasn't just because I was ignorant. No, there was much more than stupidity holding me back. Like the idea that emotion made more sense to me than fact.

It's true. As ridiculous as it sounds, to me, emotional appeal seemed more logical than straight fact. Don't be so surprised. I live in a world of emotion. Having the slight advantages that I do when it comes to perception [been there, discussed that], I know how to manipulate the feelings of others. I can fight simply by using emotions.

It doesn't work in logic, though. Intense feeling and logic cannot reasonably combine without decreasing the validity of an argument. I didn't know that. I figured that they were one and the same, equivalent in value and effect. Wrong.

But I've learned. I'm much more logical now. I've dealt with emotion and learned how to suppress its influence on me. It's all good.

Yet I said that I still lack in fact. It's true. I could be a lot more emotionally detached and reasonable in my arguments. And I'm not, for a very distinct [and logical!] reason.

The concept of "fact" has come to evade me entirely. Why else would I call my blog "still finding reality"? The experiences I've been through, the situations I've been in, have taught me to expect the impossible, rely on the improbable, and question anything that is considered "fact."

It's hard to back up an argument with fact when I can't even begin to describe what "fact" entails. Sure, there are obvious conclusions, often brought forth by science. The sky is blue because the atmosphere refracts blue wavelengths of light. The ocean is blue because it reflects the blue sky. The fish in the ocean are not always blue because they do not always reject ["give off"] blue wavelengths.

These, among many other things, are straight fact. They're observations of the world, turned into theories by intellectuals [mostly, anyway] and then transformed into laws and concepts when applicable.

But outside of the cut-and-dry stuff, apart from the obvious, I don't know what's fact or fiction. Hell, I even doubt some of that obvious stuff. Does everyone see the same color when we classify the sky as "blue"? If there are clouds, does the sky cease to be blue? If a tree falls in an unoccupied forest, does it make a sound?

It's so mind-boggling. Everything about the universe that I have accepted as true is now being tested, and all too often disproved. Even my own mind makes me wonder sometimes. My capabilities, as well as those of other people, astound me sometimes.

What's fact? Can I learn it? Can I use it? I try to do both. I try. I can't be rid of emotion entirely, nor can I know every "fact" there is to know. But I'm making a conscious effort to try harder.

Ah, logic. Good ol' eighth grade.

The Bestest Friends

What's a best friend? The person who you sit next to in every class? The one who brings you a cookie every day?

If those are the requirements, Thena and I fail miserably. We only share one class [we do sit next to each other, though] and I don't think either one of us has the spare time to bake a batch of cookies. When paired with my other best friends, too, we all fail.

So a best friend doesn't meet materialistic requirements. A best friend is something else entirely.

A best friend is the one that knows every single one of your faults, gets irritated by your idiosyncrasies, and loves you anyway. The one whose text message excites you more than anyone else's. The person who doesn't have to ask you if you're feeling okay, because they already know the answer.

A best friend does lie, and will use you, but because you've done the same to them before, it's automatic forgiveness--and you both learn not to lie or use them that way again. A best friend knows everything that makes you mad and sometimes likes to frustrate you, just for fun--but it's never done with malice. A best friend knows when to stay and when to walk away, when it's the right time and the wrong time to talk--and you both understand that these times of separation are necessary.

A best friend is the one who jumps on your side even when you're completely and totally wrong. The one who talks behind your back and only says good things. The person who covers up your secrets and your lies, your hidden fears and envy.

A best friend will envy you at times, and you will envy them. They'll feel irrational anger toward you, and you toward them. But you forgive each other. A best friend will, at least once, shun you or avoid you, but you'll welcome them back with open arms, because you shunned them once, too.

A best friend is the one who remembers your awkward phases, and teaches you to laugh at them. The one who can recall all of your mistakes and help you learn from them. The person who shields you from embarrassment, because they know it hurts you deeply.

Best friends don't have to make each other cookies or buy elaborate gifts--they're satisfied with anything, because it's from their best friend. They don't have to tell each other everything, because it all gets figured out anyway--words aren't always necessary. And best friends don't have to be perfect for each other, because it's the imperfections that are endearing.

A best friend will always protect you from harm and from the evils of the world, even if it means putting themselves in the line of fire. A best friend will tell you straight up when you look like crap, but they'll also tell you when you look your best. A best friend forgets the superficial things and focuses on character--the parts of you that really make up who you are.

And you love them. No matter how much you hurt each other, you always love them. Not because they're perfect. Not because you have to. No, you love them because you want to. You want their company. You want them around. You want to see them grow up, and become the person you've always hoped they would be.

So you live, and you love--and together, the pair of you are undeniably invincible.

Creepy & Weird

Though that title is the most overused phrase amongst my group of friends [long story... Ah, Honors English 10!], there's no other way to describe how strange it is when my horoscope matches my day.

I don't really "believe" in all the horoscope nonsense. Anybody can predict how your day will go if they say it vaguely enough. But when the predictions go into specifics, and those specifics turn out to be entirely accurate, it's creepy. And weird.

Take today, for instance. I didn't read my horoscope until just now, and the things it discusses are amazingly close to way I've felt all day.

Read and pay close attention. I will explain as I go along:

Aries Forecast--October 2, 2007

If you need to boost your energy into high gear, just fake it until you make it. <--I definitely had no energy this morning, so I drank 3 cups of coffee to get myself hyped up. Weird.

You're in a good place to take care of old feelings that may be piling up inside. See if you can find someone to talk things over with -- or just write it all down somewhere private, which ought to work just fine. I've been thinking about "old feelings" all day, if that's not creepy enough. And I literally just thought about journaling.

Take a deep breath and spit it out -- whatever it may be. Someone needs to hear what's really going on inside you, so start talking or blogging until you've said your piece. You'll feel way better! Lol. Blogging. Irony.

You haven't thought about this particular love-gone-bad situation in a while, but today it's weighing heavily on you. Don't let baggage from the past affect your emotional growth. Write a letter, then burn it. Guess who I was thinking about less than an hour ago? That's right. Ex-boyfriend. I wouldn't call it "love," but it certainly went bad [for me, anyway]. I still carry the hurt from that relationship... and today I was thinking about ways to finally get over the whole thing. Writing a letter and burning it was definitely one of my options. Creepy.

The rest is just a reiteration of the same stuff. I read it all and sort of stopped breathing. Everything mentioned here--even the specifics from the second half I didn't post-- has been awkwardly accurate. It freaks me out a little.

I don't believe in fortune-telling, nor do I subscribe to belief in fate, entirely. But this is weird. Too weird. I would be more skeptical if I had read this before school and then thought of everything, but I read it after and I thought about all that stuff all day.

Creepy. And weird.

Michiganders, Unite!

You know what's really irritating? Living in Michigan, that's what. Of all the places to be...

So this morning, for three whopping hours, our entire state government shut down. All because the lawmakers couldn't come to a conclusion for the budget. That's irritating.

Aren't they supposed to be good at compromising?

Don't even get me started on the weather here. It's like one giant mood swing. Ridiculous.

Michiganders, let's get together... and move somewhere else.

I <3 This Song

It's called "Kaye," and it's by the band Jupiter Sunrise [see link on the right]. I have to admit, the initial attraction was simply that the title is my name... But still, I love it. This song, along with "This Beauty" by the same band, are at the top of my playlist right now.

What's that? You want to see the lyrics? Aw shucks, how did I know?

I can provide:

"Kaye"
Kaye, are you even real?
Do you think that maybe we could be lovers once in a while?
Say something I can feel
I am never here and it's impossible to heal

Go ahead and understand me, underneath that killer blue sky
Go ahead and understand me please

Kaye, are you even real?
Do you think we'll ever figure it out, I'm running out of hope
Say anything you feel
Maybe you can do it for the both of us and I'll untie the rope

Kaye, out there in the world I am full of their hate, their crime
In here it's like we can be pure of heart
Kaye, out there in the world I am left for dead don't help me
In here we are both light and pure of heart

It's hard enough to breathe right here
Let alone be right here, let alone here you say, "love"
It's hard enough trying to be strong right now
I try to be wrong right now
I try to be anything that doesn't drive her away

Kaye, are you even real?
Do you think that maybe we could just stay here?

"This Beauty"
When your words come too easily for me
And this paint goes on too thinly to peel away
I will find a silver lining sometime
Blur my vision, and I'll be fine
And I'll be fine...

When your words burn forever in my mind
And those greens and those blues seem too perfect to be true
I will light a fire every time I think to myself, I will be fine
I will be fine

Burn the pages of the magazines
I hate the way they look at me
With every smile and every laugh
There's something I will always lack
And maybe, just maybe
And imprefected me will not be seen

But yes, I'll go on, yes, I will be
And I'll be strong, fortunately
This beauty's not clear to me, to me...

And maybe, just maybe, this beauty will be clearer to me.

Permanence

It is well-known to anyone past the stage of infancy that objects, as well as people, have "object permanence." They may leave the room, but that does not mean they cease to exist entirely. Out of sight or out of mind is not the same as "gone forever."

However, when you can tuck yourself into bed and review the past sixteen years of your life as nothing but a string of changes, you begin to question permanence.

Having lost a substantial number of memories due to involuntary choice, I can barely recall the first fourteen years of my life. If you do the math, that leaves me two solid years of memory. Not much to go on.

Of course, I can recall bits and pieces of the past. I can remember enough of it to give you a full description of my emotions at any given point in time, and if I strain myself, I can even bring back a few memories that stood out. Most of them are times that I was humiliated or hurt--for some reason, pain sticks more than happiness does. I can tell you big things I did, or even places I went to--all things that have a specific date and time. But ask me who I was friends with in fourth grade and I draw a blank. Ask me what clothes I wore and I'll have to hunt up an old school picture to tell you. Even if you asked me what my day-to-day life was like, I would have to find an old diary to be accurate.

My parents got divorced when I was ten; I couldn't tell you what my life was like before that. I can't remember what it felt like to be innocent, or whole. I cannot bring back those feelings.

In the pieces I can recall, the most I could tell you is that my life is nothing more than a string of changes. Moves, shifts, changes--the whole thing.

Which, of course, makes it hard for me to accept some things as "permanent." My life in a two-parent home was supposedly "permanent," and yet it came to an end. My life as a trusting, kind, and sweet-hearted girl was supposed to be permanent, but the world made me incredulous, bitter, and broken-hearted. I've had it all and lost it all, multiple times.

I've seen the top of the hill, and I've sloshed through the mud at the bottom of the valley, too.

So when you tell me that "this is for real," that what I am living now is the "real thing," naturally I don't believe you. What I feel today may very well change tomorrow. What I believe to be reality could all be shot down. The people I call friends could betray me over any foolish circumstance [I would hope they wouldn't...]. My hopes, dreams, wishes, and goals could flip themselves over in a matter of less than a second, and I can't do anything to prevent it.

Even I am not permanent. One day, I'll die. I'll cease to exist. My soul--the personality that I carry that cannot be duplicated by any other individual--will be gone forever.

How the hell am I supposed to learn permanence if everything keeps disappearing?