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.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
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?
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?
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Bored.
I just took a five-minute break from my six subjects of homework [almost done!] so I'd like to post the result of those five minutes.
As always, don't steal. I'm watching you. If you want to see it bigger [and actually read what it says], left click and it will open in its own window. No big deal.
Arty is [hating school, and] out.
As always, don't steal. I'm watching you. If you want to see it bigger [and actually read what it says], left click and it will open in its own window. No big deal.
Arty is [hating school, and] out.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
HC Pics, Part I
Last night definitely ranked very high on my list of top ten best nights ever. I send my love to Thena, DZ, and Finn [lol creative codename, eh?] for giving me an entire evening of fun and laughter, a night I will describe in detail in a future post. I love you guys so much--I'm sorry for the delay. I'll post the pictures as soon as is humanly possible [for me, anyway]. :D <3
But homecoming also ranked on my list, and I have a bunch of those pictures right here, right now. For those who know me, please do not leave any comments that mention my friends' names. I'd rather not disclose the identities of any of the people in these photos, so keep the stats on the DL.
And yes, I do look sort of ridiculous in some of these. But I really don't care, and neither should you.
Without further ado, I present Homecoming 2007, Part I:
But homecoming also ranked on my list, and I have a bunch of those pictures right here, right now. For those who know me, please do not leave any comments that mention my friends' names. I'd rather not disclose the identities of any of the people in these photos, so keep the stats on the DL.
And yes, I do look sort of ridiculous in some of these. But I really don't care, and neither should you.
Without further ado, I present Homecoming 2007, Part I:
Sunday, September 23, 2007
City Nights, City Lights... Perfection.
So homecoming was absolutely AMAZING. Beyond amazing. It was perfect, spectacular, beautiful, fantastic... It couldn't have been better. Superficial or not, I had an awesome time. :]
My dress and hair were the best I've ever had [I will post pictures soon, once I've found time to upload them to my computer]. I felt like a princess, and got lots of compliments. Always good for the self-esteem. And my baby brother went out of his way to get Aphrie and I two of the most beautiful corsages I've ever seen, my favorite of the three I've ever received. Thank you, buddy. :D
The whole pictures thing was fun, too. Not only because we had a good group of kids, but because it wasn't the way it usually is. Not as superficial. It was fun, and laid back, and just a relaxed atmosphere. Just the way I like it.
THE DANCE! Oh my goodness, the dance. Three solid hours of absolute greatness. The decorations were amazing [student council finally got something right!] and the music was actually not bad. I'm not so into the rap, but it's perfect for dancing.
We were dancing so much and with such an intensity that I was completely soaked with sweat, as were my friends. Most of the guys gave up on their shirts and jumped around in wifebeaters [hey, I won't complain...]. Us girls kicked off our shoes and kept our clothes securely on. I was really glad not to have a date this year--nobody to babysit!
I'm a little sore from the dancing [ab workout for the week] but it's totally worth it. My dress needs to be dry-cleaned because it's so disgusting, but I wouldn't want it any other way. My hair is really nasty from the gross sweat, too, but it stayed curled all night and even after I slept on it.
The afterparty, sleepover, and breakfast gathering were a blast. There wasn't any real drama this year [no fights!] so everyone was on good terms, and the food was wonderful [thank you Grandma Dragon!]. After eating nothing but Special K all day yesterday, I was starving. Don't act so surprised--how else do you expect us girls to fit into our dresses and look good? Psh. Like we're just magically thin at the end of the day...
I had to laugh, though, when I saw the teachers at the dance. They're so hilarious. Everything we teenagers do just flummoxes them, like we're a new species or something. Yes, we let down our guard a little to dance. Yes, we say "hell" when it comes up in the song. Yes, we scream and get excited when the DJ asks us to. The teachers and administrators just find this to be insane. It makes me giggle.
A big hug and thank you to everyone who made last night possible for us. We're only juniors once--why not live it up a bit?
Smiles for everyone, and have a safe and happy weekend. :]
My dress and hair were the best I've ever had [I will post pictures soon, once I've found time to upload them to my computer]. I felt like a princess, and got lots of compliments. Always good for the self-esteem. And my baby brother went out of his way to get Aphrie and I two of the most beautiful corsages I've ever seen, my favorite of the three I've ever received. Thank you, buddy. :D
The whole pictures thing was fun, too. Not only because we had a good group of kids, but because it wasn't the way it usually is. Not as superficial. It was fun, and laid back, and just a relaxed atmosphere. Just the way I like it.
THE DANCE! Oh my goodness, the dance. Three solid hours of absolute greatness. The decorations were amazing [student council finally got something right!] and the music was actually not bad. I'm not so into the rap, but it's perfect for dancing.
We were dancing so much and with such an intensity that I was completely soaked with sweat, as were my friends. Most of the guys gave up on their shirts and jumped around in wifebeaters [hey, I won't complain...]. Us girls kicked off our shoes and kept our clothes securely on. I was really glad not to have a date this year--nobody to babysit!
I'm a little sore from the dancing [ab workout for the week] but it's totally worth it. My dress needs to be dry-cleaned because it's so disgusting, but I wouldn't want it any other way. My hair is really nasty from the gross sweat, too, but it stayed curled all night and even after I slept on it.
The afterparty, sleepover, and breakfast gathering were a blast. There wasn't any real drama this year [no fights!] so everyone was on good terms, and the food was wonderful [thank you Grandma Dragon!]. After eating nothing but Special K all day yesterday, I was starving. Don't act so surprised--how else do you expect us girls to fit into our dresses and look good? Psh. Like we're just magically thin at the end of the day...
I had to laugh, though, when I saw the teachers at the dance. They're so hilarious. Everything we teenagers do just flummoxes them, like we're a new species or something. Yes, we let down our guard a little to dance. Yes, we say "hell" when it comes up in the song. Yes, we scream and get excited when the DJ asks us to. The teachers and administrators just find this to be insane. It makes me giggle.
A big hug and thank you to everyone who made last night possible for us. We're only juniors once--why not live it up a bit?
Smiles for everyone, and have a safe and happy weekend. :]
Friday, September 21, 2007
Comin' Home
Tomorrow's the big day. Homecoming, I mean. I'll post pictures soon after [maybe... if they're decent].
I don't know if I'm more excited or exasperated. I know I'll have fun; I always do. But there is a small part of me that just doesn't quite understand it all. Yes, dancing is fun. Yes, it's nice to dress up sometimes and try to look pretty for a change. But it's all so superficial--the atmosphere, the pictures, the dates... Ugh.
I guess, once you've seen a deeper side of life, the superficial things lose their glamour. The petty, happy, high school traditions don't seem so important when you're thinking about life as a whole, the future, college, careers, relationships, the evil of the world...
I wish it was easy. I wish a lot of things, don't I? That's all I do, I wish. I sit around and make lots of pretty, superficial wishes, and then find myself to be disappointed when I realize that they're never going to come true.
If I could get rid of my deep side, I would. But I can't. I've earned this depth, this insight that makes me different from everyone else. I've lived through a lot to get to the intellectual point I'm at today.
Always remember that for every single thing you know that I don't, there's something I've come to understand that I would never wish upon you. For every fact you can trump me with, I've got an emotion you've never experienced.
I'm not superior. I'm not even really that intelligent. But I know things that I would never ask you to learn, things that can only be discovered by horrible means. Things I wish I didn't know.
Stay ignorant, and happy. Be superficial and giddy.
Happy homecoming, everyone.
I don't know if I'm more excited or exasperated. I know I'll have fun; I always do. But there is a small part of me that just doesn't quite understand it all. Yes, dancing is fun. Yes, it's nice to dress up sometimes and try to look pretty for a change. But it's all so superficial--the atmosphere, the pictures, the dates... Ugh.
I guess, once you've seen a deeper side of life, the superficial things lose their glamour. The petty, happy, high school traditions don't seem so important when you're thinking about life as a whole, the future, college, careers, relationships, the evil of the world...
I wish it was easy. I wish a lot of things, don't I? That's all I do, I wish. I sit around and make lots of pretty, superficial wishes, and then find myself to be disappointed when I realize that they're never going to come true.
If I could get rid of my deep side, I would. But I can't. I've earned this depth, this insight that makes me different from everyone else. I've lived through a lot to get to the intellectual point I'm at today.
Always remember that for every single thing you know that I don't, there's something I've come to understand that I would never wish upon you. For every fact you can trump me with, I've got an emotion you've never experienced.
I'm not superior. I'm not even really that intelligent. But I know things that I would never ask you to learn, things that can only be discovered by horrible means. Things I wish I didn't know.
Stay ignorant, and happy. Be superficial and giddy.
Happy homecoming, everyone.
All We Do is Kill.
I was just reading the headlines on my Yahoo page, and I saw that two kids in at Delaware U were shot. The article then went on to discuss how these shootings were unrelated to the Newark killings, which I haven't even read about yet.
Seriously, people. When is this going to end? When is the human race finally going to realize that killing someone doesn't do any good?
Sure, you can dislike another person. You can even call them petty names if you so wish. Not nice, but they'll get over it.
You cannot, however, take a gun to their head. That's not cool. Not only uncool, but unbearably wrong.
No one has the right to take your life, and you do not have the right to take anyone else's. When you bring each human being down to the level of blood and guts and brains, we have nothing but life. You can't take mine, and I can't steal yours.
This is not about equality, or fairness, or "loving everyone." This is common sense. Quit shooting people. Cut it out. This is ridiculous, and I am disgusted.
GET OVER YOURSELVES. Life isn't about beating up everybody else. Just stop it. STOP IT.
STOP.
Please?
Seriously, people. When is this going to end? When is the human race finally going to realize that killing someone doesn't do any good?
Sure, you can dislike another person. You can even call them petty names if you so wish. Not nice, but they'll get over it.
You cannot, however, take a gun to their head. That's not cool. Not only uncool, but unbearably wrong.
No one has the right to take your life, and you do not have the right to take anyone else's. When you bring each human being down to the level of blood and guts and brains, we have nothing but life. You can't take mine, and I can't steal yours.
This is not about equality, or fairness, or "loving everyone." This is common sense. Quit shooting people. Cut it out. This is ridiculous, and I am disgusted.
GET OVER YOURSELVES. Life isn't about beating up everybody else. Just stop it. STOP IT.
STOP.
Please?
#19
Yeah. I've got another lesson. There are so many I should already have learned...
#19:
Don't count on anybody to get something important done. If it matters to you, do it yourself. Otherwise you'll only be disappointed in the results.
You want to achieve your goal? Earn it. You want to move up the ranks in school, or work, or even social class? Do it yourself. Nobody's going to do it for you.
Life's about earning your way to the end. When you're playing monopoly, you're not allowed to just skip across the board. You have to follow the rules and play by the cards, or you're in trouble.
Do what you should, not what you want. Do what's right, not what's easy. And forget about anyone who stands in your way.
Forget them. Hurdles aren't worth worrying about--they're only good for increasing your ability to jump.
#19:
Don't count on anybody to get something important done. If it matters to you, do it yourself. Otherwise you'll only be disappointed in the results.
You want to achieve your goal? Earn it. You want to move up the ranks in school, or work, or even social class? Do it yourself. Nobody's going to do it for you.
Life's about earning your way to the end. When you're playing monopoly, you're not allowed to just skip across the board. You have to follow the rules and play by the cards, or you're in trouble.
Do what you should, not what you want. Do what's right, not what's easy. And forget about anyone who stands in your way.
Forget them. Hurdles aren't worth worrying about--they're only good for increasing your ability to jump.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
More lies.
So I really lied. Because I have a few minutes right now to post [a few minutes I didn't expect to have] and I intend to squander them properly.
Not much to say--instead, something to show. I made this video weeks ago and now, finally, I have the time to upload it. I apologize ahead of time for the ape-like wet hair in the background. Sorry, folks, but some of us don't have hours in the morning to dry our hair.
Bam! Here it is.
Not much to say--instead, something to show. I made this video weeks ago and now, finally, I have the time to upload it. I apologize ahead of time for the ape-like wet hair in the background. Sorry, folks, but some of us don't have hours in the morning to dry our hair.
Bam! Here it is.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
LIES!
Yep, I'm a liar. I said I wouldn't post until Sunday, but today is most definitely Wednesday. Way to tell time, Arty.
Anyway, this will be brief. All I have to say is that tomorrow is going to be a good day. It WILL be a good day. Because I was wrong--last week's days could be better than something else. These past three days have been very long... I'm glad they're over.
But tomorrow will be good. It has to be. It will be a good day. Anything life wants to throw at me, I will welcome with open arms. Wind up the pitch, Life, and chuck it. I'm game. I'm in.
I close with lyrics:
'Cause tomorrow's another day
And I'm thirsty anyway
So bring on the rain.
Anyway, this will be brief. All I have to say is that tomorrow is going to be a good day. It WILL be a good day. Because I was wrong--last week's days could be better than something else. These past three days have been very long... I'm glad they're over.
But tomorrow will be good. It has to be. It will be a good day. Anything life wants to throw at me, I will welcome with open arms. Wind up the pitch, Life, and chuck it. I'm game. I'm in.
I close with lyrics:
'Cause tomorrow's another day
And I'm thirsty anyway
So bring on the rain.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Lmao.
For those of you who live in a small [but seemingly well-furnished] cave and were born before the invention of the wheel, that acronym does indeed mean "laughing my arse off." I edit for the children's sake.
But I really am peeing my pants laughing right now [rotfpmplmao... I'll let you figure that one out]. Not because of the irony in the fact that my prediction about this week was totally off base, and not because it's ironic that I'm incredibly sick during one of the most stressful weeks of the school year.
No, I'm laughing because it's singles' week.
Honestly. What the heck is that? I read the headline on my Yahoo page just a few minutes ago and almost died. "Hey, you're single and alone! Let's celebrate!" Lol.
How fitting, though. The one week when my entire high school is turned upside-down as all the girls try to find dates for homecoming, it's singles' week. Hilarious, don't you think?
It's also quite funny how the ratio of girls to guys in my school is something like 3:1. Ew. You'd think that they'd at least try to make it fair on us girls.
I gave up on finding a date. I really don't want one. The past two years, I've found guys to go with, but it wasn't anything other than, "Hey. You're a boy. I'm a girl. We don't have dates, and we could be considered friends. Let's go together." Not really up there on the romantic list. Didn't even make the list, actually...
So I gave up. Who needs boys anyway? All they do is find ways to hurt you, don't they? It's what they're good at. And being immature. They're good at that, too.
I probably won't post again until Sunday, because each night this week is dedicated to something strikingly more important that this blog. I know, it sounds ridiculous--what could possibly be more important to me than this? But I actually do have a life outside of the Internet, despite popular belief, and that life makes demands every now and then that must be met.
Wednesday is dance, and the DI kick-off meeting. Thursday is loads of homework [that's not a prediction, that's just a fact] and a very long nail appointment, because I'm not going to homecoming with stubs for fingers. I refuse. Friday is the pep assembly, homecoming game, and a fruitless attempt at getting some sleep so I'm conscious the next day. And Saturday, of course, is the homecoming dance itself, followed by an afterparty, sleepover, and Sunday morning southern-style breakfast [courtesy of Thena's mother and grandmother].
In the midst of all this, I shall attempt to not only get all of my homework done, but also try to recover from whatever virus/disease is currently attacking my ill-fated immune system. I will have to do some writing and piano-playing as well, because I'm really slacking in both departments and I'm getting worse and worse as time goes on. Not the course I'd like to take.
This schedule, this little train called Life, is really getting on my nerves. The conductor stole my baggage, I lost my ticket, and the food tastes like stale paper. I can't even find my way back to my train car.
Can't I just get off for awhile? Can't I have a break? Or am I trapped forever on this never-ending track?
Arty's [feeling ugh, and] out.
But I really am peeing my pants laughing right now [rotfpmplmao... I'll let you figure that one out]. Not because of the irony in the fact that my prediction about this week was totally off base, and not because it's ironic that I'm incredibly sick during one of the most stressful weeks of the school year.
No, I'm laughing because it's singles' week.
Honestly. What the heck is that? I read the headline on my Yahoo page just a few minutes ago and almost died. "Hey, you're single and alone! Let's celebrate!" Lol.
How fitting, though. The one week when my entire high school is turned upside-down as all the girls try to find dates for homecoming, it's singles' week. Hilarious, don't you think?
It's also quite funny how the ratio of girls to guys in my school is something like 3:1. Ew. You'd think that they'd at least try to make it fair on us girls.
I gave up on finding a date. I really don't want one. The past two years, I've found guys to go with, but it wasn't anything other than, "Hey. You're a boy. I'm a girl. We don't have dates, and we could be considered friends. Let's go together." Not really up there on the romantic list. Didn't even make the list, actually...
So I gave up. Who needs boys anyway? All they do is find ways to hurt you, don't they? It's what they're good at. And being immature. They're good at that, too.
I probably won't post again until Sunday, because each night this week is dedicated to something strikingly more important that this blog. I know, it sounds ridiculous--what could possibly be more important to me than this? But I actually do have a life outside of the Internet, despite popular belief, and that life makes demands every now and then that must be met.
Wednesday is dance, and the DI kick-off meeting. Thursday is loads of homework [that's not a prediction, that's just a fact] and a very long nail appointment, because I'm not going to homecoming with stubs for fingers. I refuse. Friday is the pep assembly, homecoming game, and a fruitless attempt at getting some sleep so I'm conscious the next day. And Saturday, of course, is the homecoming dance itself, followed by an afterparty, sleepover, and Sunday morning southern-style breakfast [courtesy of Thena's mother and grandmother].
In the midst of all this, I shall attempt to not only get all of my homework done, but also try to recover from whatever virus/disease is currently attacking my ill-fated immune system. I will have to do some writing and piano-playing as well, because I'm really slacking in both departments and I'm getting worse and worse as time goes on. Not the course I'd like to take.
This schedule, this little train called Life, is really getting on my nerves. The conductor stole my baggage, I lost my ticket, and the food tastes like stale paper. I can't even find my way back to my train car.
Can't I just get off for awhile? Can't I have a break? Or am I trapped forever on this never-ending track?
Arty's [feeling ugh, and] out.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Bright, Sunshiney Day
Tomorrow's going to be a good day.
Not because of a horoscope or a sign, or even because I'm telling myself it will be.
No, tomorrow will be a good day because it can't get any worse. Tomorrow, when compared to any of last week's days, will be absolutely wonderful.
So in conclusion, tomorrow's going to be a great day. It will be spectacular. It will be amazing. And with a little luck, Tuesday could be even better.
But don't hold your breath. I don't have time for a funeral right now. Or a lawsuit.
PS. I love my friend from far away who calls and makes my day 100 times better simply by calling. Thank you, kid. You're awesome. :]
Not because of a horoscope or a sign, or even because I'm telling myself it will be.
No, tomorrow will be a good day because it can't get any worse. Tomorrow, when compared to any of last week's days, will be absolutely wonderful.
So in conclusion, tomorrow's going to be a great day. It will be spectacular. It will be amazing. And with a little luck, Tuesday could be even better.
But don't hold your breath. I don't have time for a funeral right now. Or a lawsuit.
PS. I love my friend from far away who calls and makes my day 100 times better simply by calling. Thank you, kid. You're awesome. :]
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Missing You
To you, from me. Lyrics that [as always] can explain everything I can't put into my own words:
I always needed time on my own
I never thought I'd need you there when I cried
And the days feel like years when I'm alone
And the bed where you lie is made up on your side...
I've never felt this way before
Everything that I do reminds me of you
And the clothes you left, they lie on the floor
And they smell just like you
I love the things that you do
When you walk away, I count the steps that you take
Do you see how much I need you right now?
When you're gone, the pieces of my heart are missing you
When you're gone, the face I came to know is missing, too
When you're gone, the words I need to hear
To always get me through the day, and make it okay
I miss you.
Avril Lavigne, "When You're Gone" [most of it, anyway]. Credit, cookies, and tears to you.
I always needed time on my own
I never thought I'd need you there when I cried
And the days feel like years when I'm alone
And the bed where you lie is made up on your side...
I've never felt this way before
Everything that I do reminds me of you
And the clothes you left, they lie on the floor
And they smell just like you
I love the things that you do
When you walk away, I count the steps that you take
Do you see how much I need you right now?
When you're gone, the pieces of my heart are missing you
When you're gone, the face I came to know is missing, too
When you're gone, the words I need to hear
To always get me through the day, and make it okay
I miss you.
Avril Lavigne, "When You're Gone" [most of it, anyway]. Credit, cookies, and tears to you.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Hi, I'm an Elf.
So a few of my dear, sweet sisters have recently decided that their littlest sister [by only a inconsequential difference, I say] deserves to be reminded of her short stature. Constantly.
Who's the littlest sister? Oh, that's right. Me.
Out of all my "siblings," I am the shortest. Not by much, probably only two or three inches from the next shortest person, but still enough to earn me the title. I stand at 5 feet, 3.5 inches, a height that anyone in my family tree would be proud to have [ha!] yet still puts me below average.
My sisters love to rub this in. "Oh, she's little, she can sit in the back where there's no leg room" [I recently corrected this assumption, and we're on a taking-turns basis now]. "She's smallest, she can go get the things on the bottom shelf." "You're the smallest, you can wear this little dress."
Grr. I am NOT short!
Dresses, I'll admit, are a problem. Long ones are too, well, long--they drag on the ground unless I get them altered. Tea-length dresses can all too often look like floods. And short dresses make me look like a pixie.
Yes. Pixie. No joke. Maddy and I went shopping forever ago, I tried on a short green dress, and the nickname was born. I looked like a gosh-darn pixie.
That's only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to short jokes, though--I've heard far worse. Fairy. Elf. Nymph [not nympho, you idiots]. Imp.
I just have to keep reminding myself that I really and truly do love my sisters. I love my sisters. I love my sisters. I love my sisters. Especially Tia--she doesn't think I'm short. Shorter, but not short.
Sigh... This is ridiculous. Can't I just have one more inch?
Who's the littlest sister? Oh, that's right. Me.
Out of all my "siblings," I am the shortest. Not by much, probably only two or three inches from the next shortest person, but still enough to earn me the title. I stand at 5 feet, 3.5 inches, a height that anyone in my family tree would be proud to have [ha!] yet still puts me below average.
My sisters love to rub this in. "Oh, she's little, she can sit in the back where there's no leg room" [I recently corrected this assumption, and we're on a taking-turns basis now]. "She's smallest, she can go get the things on the bottom shelf." "You're the smallest, you can wear this little dress."
Grr. I am NOT short!
Dresses, I'll admit, are a problem. Long ones are too, well, long--they drag on the ground unless I get them altered. Tea-length dresses can all too often look like floods. And short dresses make me look like a pixie.
Yes. Pixie. No joke. Maddy and I went shopping forever ago, I tried on a short green dress, and the nickname was born. I looked like a gosh-darn pixie.
That's only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to short jokes, though--I've heard far worse. Fairy. Elf. Nymph [not nympho, you idiots]. Imp.
I just have to keep reminding myself that I really and truly do love my sisters. I love my sisters. I love my sisters. I love my sisters. Especially Tia--she doesn't think I'm short. Shorter, but not short.
Sigh... This is ridiculous. Can't I just have one more inch?
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Applesauce and Acrobats
Dance started today. For the record, yes, I do take a dance class. Jazz. No, I'm not good. I usually just make a fool out of myself and laugh a lot at my own mistakes. But I need the exercise, and Tia's in it with me, so it's all good.
Well, almost all good. I'm so sore I can barely move, I'd forgotten all the special stances and stuff, and my teacher expects us to be able to do doubles. Listen, lady, the last time I was devoted to dancing, I was six. And the two years I spent at this studio were only for fun. I can barely stay standing long enough for a single turn, much less a double.
I'm no acrobat. I'm more of a clown.
But whatever. Eventually, after I fall down enough times, I'll be flexible and strong enough to do what she says. If I could do most of it before, I can do most of it again.
Along the lines of exercise, I'm actually going to try to eat a bit healthier. I'm sure it could help me feel better. I don't eat much as it is [people who aren't growing and aren't exercising don't need to eat three meals a day, folks] and I don't intend to lower the number, but I would like to maybe not eat so much junk. Like I said, I'll try. Mind over matter, right?
I know I'm already following the right track--now it's just about staying on track. Since seventh grade, I've taken applesauce in my lunch each day, much to the horror of my peers. Nobi-Wan Kenobi [ahh, my dear friend] makes fun of me every day for it. But I don't care--I like my apples. It's not crap food and it still tastes good.
My problem lies in the fact that I can't find a balance with food. Don't think I'm some sort of pig--I really don't like eating that much. Food isn't a priority to me [the last two days of writing my book, I ate nothing but Nerds and water because that's all I had in my room... lol]. But If I don't eat enough, I get dizzy and turn into a psycho [ask my DI team, they'll tell you the horror stories]. And If do I eat enough to keep my absurd blood sugar in check, I have to find a way to keep myself in shape. Let me tell you, hypoglycemics have it tough. The only way to keep ourselves from passing out is to eat something with protein, and anything with enough protein to act fast is WAY up there in the bad stuff. There's no balance.
I guess it could be worse. I could be unforgivingly obese or incapable of exercising at all. I could be hideously ugly and four feet tall. I could resemble a horse and get confused for a man, too.
Maybe it's not so bad after all.
Well, almost all good. I'm so sore I can barely move, I'd forgotten all the special stances and stuff, and my teacher expects us to be able to do doubles. Listen, lady, the last time I was devoted to dancing, I was six. And the two years I spent at this studio were only for fun. I can barely stay standing long enough for a single turn, much less a double.
I'm no acrobat. I'm more of a clown.
But whatever. Eventually, after I fall down enough times, I'll be flexible and strong enough to do what she says. If I could do most of it before, I can do most of it again.
Along the lines of exercise, I'm actually going to try to eat a bit healthier. I'm sure it could help me feel better. I don't eat much as it is [people who aren't growing and aren't exercising don't need to eat three meals a day, folks] and I don't intend to lower the number, but I would like to maybe not eat so much junk. Like I said, I'll try. Mind over matter, right?
I know I'm already following the right track--now it's just about staying on track. Since seventh grade, I've taken applesauce in my lunch each day, much to the horror of my peers. Nobi-Wan Kenobi [ahh, my dear friend] makes fun of me every day for it. But I don't care--I like my apples. It's not crap food and it still tastes good.
My problem lies in the fact that I can't find a balance with food. Don't think I'm some sort of pig--I really don't like eating that much. Food isn't a priority to me [the last two days of writing my book, I ate nothing but Nerds and water because that's all I had in my room... lol]. But If I don't eat enough, I get dizzy and turn into a psycho [ask my DI team, they'll tell you the horror stories]. And If do I eat enough to keep my absurd blood sugar in check, I have to find a way to keep myself in shape. Let me tell you, hypoglycemics have it tough. The only way to keep ourselves from passing out is to eat something with protein, and anything with enough protein to act fast is WAY up there in the bad stuff. There's no balance.
I guess it could be worse. I could be unforgivingly obese or incapable of exercising at all. I could be hideously ugly and four feet tall. I could resemble a horse and get confused for a man, too.
Maybe it's not so bad after all.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Missy
Random thought of the day:
The number of nicknames I've accumulated over the years is getting ridiculous. My mother calls me Missy [which is not, in any way, a derivative of my real name], Missy Krissy or Miss Kris, my father calls me Peanut or Miss Kris, my friends call me Kris, my grandpa calls me KB, my grandma calls me Tricia [lol that's a funny story, by the way]... Most of them boil down to which names are easiest to say when angry.
"Um, Missy? Did you forget to do something?"
The list goes on and on and on. And you wonder why I have an identity problem.
Arty's OUT.
The number of nicknames I've accumulated over the years is getting ridiculous. My mother calls me Missy [which is not, in any way, a derivative of my real name], Missy Krissy or Miss Kris, my father calls me Peanut or Miss Kris, my friends call me Kris, my grandpa calls me KB, my grandma calls me Tricia [lol that's a funny story, by the way]... Most of them boil down to which names are easiest to say when angry.
"Um, Missy? Did you forget to do something?"
The list goes on and on and on. And you wonder why I have an identity problem.
Arty's OUT.
Dead.
I am dead. There's no other explanation for this. I must be dead. Because I'm barely functioning.
If I focus, if I really try, I can get some brain activity. But unless I'm willing to dedicate 3 hours to 6 EASY physics problems [as I just did right now, for the record], I won't get anything done. It's pathetic.
I'm just dead. It's not even exhaustion, really, though I am tired. It's just... nothingness. Like my head has turned off. Like a switch got flipped.
Like I'm dreaming, though I'm wide awake.
I want to write my stories and it's just not happening. I want to succeed in school and I feel like I'm dragging myself from class to class. The mind that was once on top of it all, ahead of the game, is now ridiculously slow. And it's only the second week of school.
This is going to be a long year. At least I know that from here, it can't get any worse.
I sure hope not, anyway. :/
If I focus, if I really try, I can get some brain activity. But unless I'm willing to dedicate 3 hours to 6 EASY physics problems [as I just did right now, for the record], I won't get anything done. It's pathetic.
I'm just dead. It's not even exhaustion, really, though I am tired. It's just... nothingness. Like my head has turned off. Like a switch got flipped.
Like I'm dreaming, though I'm wide awake.
I want to write my stories and it's just not happening. I want to succeed in school and I feel like I'm dragging myself from class to class. The mind that was once on top of it all, ahead of the game, is now ridiculously slow. And it's only the second week of school.
This is going to be a long year. At least I know that from here, it can't get any worse.
I sure hope not, anyway. :/
Monday, September 10, 2007
[I Could Use a] Lesson #18
One more thing before I go to bed.
Being the outspoken, feisty, and stubborn girl that I am, I could use some restraint. A lot of restraint, perhaps. So I don't say the things I shouldn't
To teach myself a little, here's Lesson #18:
While surfing the web one day, I came across a personal site [it may have been a blog, I'm not sure] that had this quote, written by the author of the site. I just found it again now:
"Long ago, I had a voice, a place, a purpose.
Long ago, I used my voice, I left my place, I lost my purpose.
Today, I caution my voice, I sit still in my place, I search for my purpose."
Credit and cookies to the writer. I love this phrase.
I'm still stuck in part 2, using my voice and leaving my place. I thought I knew I purpose, but I think it got lost in time.
I would love more than anything to move on to part 3. It's my new goal, to hold back more often instead of speaking when I shouldn't and moving when I should be still.
Regret is a powerful adversary. Don't let it eat you alive like it's eating me. Don't do it.
Being the outspoken, feisty, and stubborn girl that I am, I could use some restraint. A lot of restraint, perhaps. So I don't say the things I shouldn't
To teach myself a little, here's Lesson #18:
While surfing the web one day, I came across a personal site [it may have been a blog, I'm not sure] that had this quote, written by the author of the site. I just found it again now:
"Long ago, I had a voice, a place, a purpose.
Long ago, I used my voice, I left my place, I lost my purpose.
Today, I caution my voice, I sit still in my place, I search for my purpose."
Credit and cookies to the writer. I love this phrase.
I'm still stuck in part 2, using my voice and leaving my place. I thought I knew I purpose, but I think it got lost in time.
I would love more than anything to move on to part 3. It's my new goal, to hold back more often instead of speaking when I shouldn't and moving when I should be still.
Regret is a powerful adversary. Don't let it eat you alive like it's eating me. Don't do it.
Chitlins
So I've been thinking. I know, how shocking, what a miracle, there is brain function after all...
But I've been thinking about kids, actually. Obviously not HAVING kids, considering that I'm 16 and definitely not interested right now [and that my family/friends would murder me in my sleep], but just kids in general.
I've noticed, sadly, that I don't work well with babies and/or animals. Babies cry when I hold them or look at them. Animals [including my own dogs] pretend I don't exist when I give a command. And young kids tend to annoy me more than inspire me, too, I'll admit. Not that I don't love my cousins and little friends, but I don't have much patience [another big surprise there] and kids wear that patience down to its final threads.
So it never really was a big thought of mine that I would have, say, five kids or something. All girls talk about this stuff, by the way--we plan our futures and then get all excited over it. We play those stupid MASH games where you pick a husband, a car, a house, etc. Sort of dumb but really fun and definitely THE best way to pass time in elementary school latchkey.
I figured, sure, I'd get a husband some day. I'd put up with a man if I really loved the guy [they, too, tend to wear on my patience]. Not that I want to get married before I'm out of college, but I can't say that anyone in my high school really appeals to me on a dating level right now [MORONS!]; all of my dating experiences are pre-high school. Don't underestimate them, though. They still changed my world, gave me good and bad memories and all that fun stuff. I must say, though, that I swore off boys after the last time. Those memories were enough to keep me from getting the usual boy-crazy attitude of some of my peers.
Anyway, I figured I'd get a husband, maybe have a kid or two. Since elementary school, I've drastically altered this plan multiple times. For awhile I wasn't going to get married at all; now I think it might not be so bad. Until I learned what it truly meant to have kids, I was all gung-ho about the idea; now, I'm definitely out. I am SO not into destroying my body just to pass on my genetics.
So I've thought about other options, the most appealing being adoption. The more I think about it, the nicer it sounds. Sure, it costs a fortune, but I wouldn't want to be responsible for a kid until I had the money to raise them, anyway.
Aside from some of the more obvious motives, my biggest would have to be that I don't want to bring anyone else into this world. With all the crap that we humans put up with, I don't think I could bear to force any other being to join us. There is something special about having your own kids, but I just couldn't do it. I just can't even imagine it.
There are plenty of kids out there that need parents, and someone to teach them the ways of the world. I could be that person one day. Instead of creating more children, I'd take in the ones that already exist--the ones who need me. Kids need mentors, people to show them around and teach them right from wrong. I could be that person. That parent.
And they will irritate me. And I will nag and pester them. And my husband and I will fight sometimes and make each other furious. And it will really, truly, and completely be okay.
Don't be expecting me to post anytime soon that I'm getting married or having kids or anything. I was just thinking about this stuff. Put down the phone, Dad--I'm not going to get knocked up next week, or anytime soon, for that matter. I'm smarter than that.
Lol. I have such random thoughts. Kids? Psh. How weird.
But I've been thinking about kids, actually. Obviously not HAVING kids, considering that I'm 16 and definitely not interested right now [and that my family/friends would murder me in my sleep], but just kids in general.
I've noticed, sadly, that I don't work well with babies and/or animals. Babies cry when I hold them or look at them. Animals [including my own dogs] pretend I don't exist when I give a command. And young kids tend to annoy me more than inspire me, too, I'll admit. Not that I don't love my cousins and little friends, but I don't have much patience [another big surprise there] and kids wear that patience down to its final threads.
So it never really was a big thought of mine that I would have, say, five kids or something. All girls talk about this stuff, by the way--we plan our futures and then get all excited over it. We play those stupid MASH games where you pick a husband, a car, a house, etc. Sort of dumb but really fun and definitely THE best way to pass time in elementary school latchkey.
I figured, sure, I'd get a husband some day. I'd put up with a man if I really loved the guy [they, too, tend to wear on my patience]. Not that I want to get married before I'm out of college, but I can't say that anyone in my high school really appeals to me on a dating level right now [MORONS!]; all of my dating experiences are pre-high school. Don't underestimate them, though. They still changed my world, gave me good and bad memories and all that fun stuff. I must say, though, that I swore off boys after the last time. Those memories were enough to keep me from getting the usual boy-crazy attitude of some of my peers.
Anyway, I figured I'd get a husband, maybe have a kid or two. Since elementary school, I've drastically altered this plan multiple times. For awhile I wasn't going to get married at all; now I think it might not be so bad. Until I learned what it truly meant to have kids, I was all gung-ho about the idea; now, I'm definitely out. I am SO not into destroying my body just to pass on my genetics.
So I've thought about other options, the most appealing being adoption. The more I think about it, the nicer it sounds. Sure, it costs a fortune, but I wouldn't want to be responsible for a kid until I had the money to raise them, anyway.
Aside from some of the more obvious motives, my biggest would have to be that I don't want to bring anyone else into this world. With all the crap that we humans put up with, I don't think I could bear to force any other being to join us. There is something special about having your own kids, but I just couldn't do it. I just can't even imagine it.
There are plenty of kids out there that need parents, and someone to teach them the ways of the world. I could be that person one day. Instead of creating more children, I'd take in the ones that already exist--the ones who need me. Kids need mentors, people to show them around and teach them right from wrong. I could be that person. That parent.
And they will irritate me. And I will nag and pester them. And my husband and I will fight sometimes and make each other furious. And it will really, truly, and completely be okay.
Don't be expecting me to post anytime soon that I'm getting married or having kids or anything. I was just thinking about this stuff. Put down the phone, Dad--I'm not going to get knocked up next week, or anytime soon, for that matter. I'm smarter than that.
Lol. I have such random thoughts. Kids? Psh. How weird.
Thoroughly Disgusted
My head is screaming in pain, so I'll have to make this quick.
I got socked in the face today, between fourth and fifth hour. Yes, that's right. Punched in the face, right between the eyes. Some idiot was trying to punch his friend in the shoulder and my head was at exactly the right height, directly in his path. By some supernatural miracle, my face isn't really swollen at all, and my eyes aren't bruised [yet]. But it took all my strength to hold back the cuss words and yelps during fifth and sixth hour.
Oh, and sixth hour? Yeah, my teacher walked past me while handing out quizzes, saw the look of controlled pained on my face, and decided it would be the opportune time to crack a joke about me. I don't even remember what it was, something about the being prepared for the upcoming quiz; I was barely attentive by that time.
And then it happened.
SHE MUSSED MY HAIR. AND CALLED ME "CUTE."
I'm not a stickler for hair. In fact, I wear a ponytail almost every day. But the fact that she TOUCHED me, that she had the nerve to reach her demon-possessed arm out and muss my hair, is beyond irritating.
I wish I could have seen my own face, or even heard my own reply. Maddy said it sounded something like "please don't touch me." RAH.
I don't like being touched. Unless you are one of my best friends or family members, you keep your hands to yourself and away from me. Far away.
And you never, never, never, NEVER tell someone who just got clocked in the face that the pain in her expression is "cute."
I got socked in the face today, between fourth and fifth hour. Yes, that's right. Punched in the face, right between the eyes. Some idiot was trying to punch his friend in the shoulder and my head was at exactly the right height, directly in his path. By some supernatural miracle, my face isn't really swollen at all, and my eyes aren't bruised [yet]. But it took all my strength to hold back the cuss words and yelps during fifth and sixth hour.
Oh, and sixth hour? Yeah, my teacher walked past me while handing out quizzes, saw the look of controlled pained on my face, and decided it would be the opportune time to crack a joke about me. I don't even remember what it was, something about the being prepared for the upcoming quiz; I was barely attentive by that time.
And then it happened.
SHE MUSSED MY HAIR. AND CALLED ME "CUTE."
I'm not a stickler for hair. In fact, I wear a ponytail almost every day. But the fact that she TOUCHED me, that she had the nerve to reach her demon-possessed arm out and muss my hair, is beyond irritating.
I wish I could have seen my own face, or even heard my own reply. Maddy said it sounded something like "please don't touch me." RAH.
I don't like being touched. Unless you are one of my best friends or family members, you keep your hands to yourself and away from me. Far away.
And you never, never, never, NEVER tell someone who just got clocked in the face that the pain in her expression is "cute."
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Stolen Words
I can't put how I'm feeling right now into my words. I had a very long weekend, the kind that wears you down not only mentally, but physically, and starts to tear at your heart after awhile.
If I must choose words, I'll steal some from Rascal Flatts for now. Say what you want about them, I like the majority of their music and I love this particular song. True, I'm not losing a lover [don't have one of those to lose, thank goodness] but the deeper emotions are right on track.
Lyrics for "I Feel Bad":
I should be out in that driveway stopping you
Tears should be rolling down my cheek
And I don't know why I'm not falling apart like I usually do
And how the thought of losing you is not killing me
I feel bad
That I can stand here strong, cold as stone
Seems so wrong, I can't explain it
Maybe it's just I've cried so much
I'm tired and I'm numb, I hate it
I feel bad that I don't feel bad
I can let myself be angry over wasted time
And sad about just throwing love away
I almost wish my heart was breaking, but I can't lie
All I want to do is turn the page
I feel bad
That I can stand here strong, cold as stone
Seems so wrong, I can't explain it
Maybe it's just I've cried so much
I'm tired and I'm numb, I hate it
I feel bad
That I don't feel bitter, alone
I just feel it's time, it's time to move on
I just gotta move on and on and on and on...
If I must choose words, I'll steal some from Rascal Flatts for now. Say what you want about them, I like the majority of their music and I love this particular song. True, I'm not losing a lover [don't have one of those to lose, thank goodness] but the deeper emotions are right on track.
Lyrics for "I Feel Bad":
I should be out in that driveway stopping you
Tears should be rolling down my cheek
And I don't know why I'm not falling apart like I usually do
And how the thought of losing you is not killing me
I feel bad
That I can stand here strong, cold as stone
Seems so wrong, I can't explain it
Maybe it's just I've cried so much
I'm tired and I'm numb, I hate it
I feel bad that I don't feel bad
I can let myself be angry over wasted time
And sad about just throwing love away
I almost wish my heart was breaking, but I can't lie
All I want to do is turn the page
I feel bad
That I can stand here strong, cold as stone
Seems so wrong, I can't explain it
Maybe it's just I've cried so much
I'm tired and I'm numb, I hate it
I feel bad
That I don't feel bitter, alone
I just feel it's time, it's time to move on
I just gotta move on and on and on and on...
Saturday, September 8, 2007
"Goodbye... Easier said than done."
A long day. A longer day ahead of me. Trial and error, path and failure.
As I head off to bed, I leave you with lyrics. For you, my dear. Miss you always.
I just came to say
Goodbye, love
Goodbye, love
Came to say goodbye, love
Goodbye.
As I head off to bed, I leave you with lyrics. For you, my dear. Miss you always.
I just came to say
Goodbye, love
Goodbye, love
Came to say goodbye, love
Goodbye.
Friday, September 7, 2007
I Will Try to Fix You
I love the lyrics to Coldplay's "Fix You." It's my favorite song to listen to when I'm sad or in need of softer stuff. The words:
When you try your best but you don't succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
When you feel so tired but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse
And tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
And high up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
Tears stream down your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down your face
And I
Tears stream down your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down your face
And I
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
Sigh. I just love that song.
When you try your best but you don't succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
When you feel so tired but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse
And tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
And high up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
Tears stream down your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down your face
And I
Tears stream down your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down your face
And I
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
Sigh. I just love that song.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Yarn and Plastic
Every day, from the moment I wake up until the time I crawl into bed, I wear an anklet. It's nothing special [it's not even really an anklet at all] but it means so, so much to me...
The thread is blue, light blue. To normal eyes, it's just a gosh-darn piece of yarn. To me, though, it's absolutely wonderful. It's a piece cut from the string that I used to map out the travels of my characters in The Emperor. I still remember that day--it was long before The Hidden was ever even a thought. I got inspired to write, so I sat down, drew a map, plotted out a course using string and tacks on a bulletin board, and got to work.
The string, oddly enough, had just enough excess that I could make an anklet. Exactly enough. Perfect, eh?
On that beautiful blue yarn are three plain, plastic beads. From right to left, they're pink, black, and clear. Again, nothing special. To you, anyway.
The pink, a bubble-gum color that belongs in a box of Crayolas, is my childhood. My first life. Before the evils of the world corrupted my youthful innocence. Before time and travel wore me down. Before I came to see the world for what it was.
The black is my Dark Age, my sort-of-joke term for a time in my life when I was... dark. When I didn't really have a life at all, just an existence. The hardest part of my life. The part I can never live again.
And the clear bead is now. This is the time when everything is becoming clear to me. Reality and fiction, good and evil, my own purpose in the world--it's all coming into focus, one day at a time. The Dark Age is over; now it is the time of light, the time of open windows and doors, of clarity. Of hope.
They go from right to left because I do everything that way--backward. Watch me play cards or organize books. I put them in order from right to left.
They're not just my life, either. They symbolize so many others' lives, too, my characters especially. In my books, they start out innocent and naive, soon become dark and lost, and then everything clears up in the end. Isn't that how life just goes?
I see those beads every day and I am reminded of what I've been through, the life I've seen. I tie that knot and I seal my past securely to myself, tight enough that I remember it's there but loose enough to still pretend it's not, if I so choose. I give myself the choice--to think of my past or not--but I refuse to forget it completely.
My history may be a road littered with debris and fallen trees, but it's still mine. I survived it, and no one can ever take that away from me. I survived the storm. I turned the tide. I beat the odds.
And no one can ever make me forget.
The thread is blue, light blue. To normal eyes, it's just a gosh-darn piece of yarn. To me, though, it's absolutely wonderful. It's a piece cut from the string that I used to map out the travels of my characters in The Emperor. I still remember that day--it was long before The Hidden was ever even a thought. I got inspired to write, so I sat down, drew a map, plotted out a course using string and tacks on a bulletin board, and got to work.
The string, oddly enough, had just enough excess that I could make an anklet. Exactly enough. Perfect, eh?
On that beautiful blue yarn are three plain, plastic beads. From right to left, they're pink, black, and clear. Again, nothing special. To you, anyway.
The pink, a bubble-gum color that belongs in a box of Crayolas, is my childhood. My first life. Before the evils of the world corrupted my youthful innocence. Before time and travel wore me down. Before I came to see the world for what it was.
The black is my Dark Age, my sort-of-joke term for a time in my life when I was... dark. When I didn't really have a life at all, just an existence. The hardest part of my life. The part I can never live again.
And the clear bead is now. This is the time when everything is becoming clear to me. Reality and fiction, good and evil, my own purpose in the world--it's all coming into focus, one day at a time. The Dark Age is over; now it is the time of light, the time of open windows and doors, of clarity. Of hope.
They go from right to left because I do everything that way--backward. Watch me play cards or organize books. I put them in order from right to left.
They're not just my life, either. They symbolize so many others' lives, too, my characters especially. In my books, they start out innocent and naive, soon become dark and lost, and then everything clears up in the end. Isn't that how life just goes?
I see those beads every day and I am reminded of what I've been through, the life I've seen. I tie that knot and I seal my past securely to myself, tight enough that I remember it's there but loose enough to still pretend it's not, if I so choose. I give myself the choice--to think of my past or not--but I refuse to forget it completely.
My history may be a road littered with debris and fallen trees, but it's still mine. I survived it, and no one can ever take that away from me. I survived the storm. I turned the tide. I beat the odds.
And no one can ever make me forget.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
I'm Laying Down My Gun
There are times, when I'm dead tired and burned out, when my mind is completely wasted away and my body can barely move, that I ask myself:
Is this a war worth fighting?
I'm not talking about high school now, or life as a teenager. I'm not even talking about life in itself. I'm talking about the war within my mind, within the minds of everyone else who possesses the same kinds of gifts that I have. People who bear the same burden I must bear day after day.
It has taken me sixteen years to reach the point to where I am today. It seems like such a short time to you, doesn't it? But in those sixteen years, I've lived more than one life. I've been so many different people...
Each night I dream of worlds to which I can never travel. Every day I think about the world I live in, and wonder why I ended up in this one. So many more places, faces, times and tales--so many I'll never see. I will never have more than this world can offer.
In these sixteen years, I've come to see that I am indeed different from everyone else. My mind, even my brain, functions on a completely opposite plane than the rest of the world. No, I'm not more intelligent than the rest, and no, I'm not "special." I'm different.
You don't believe me? You think I'm just creating a miserable defense for my behavior and thoughts? A few key points of interest to consider when trying to decipher exactly how my mind works:
1.) I'm synesthetic [not synthetic, note the spelling difference]--for those who are unfamiliar with the term, it means that there are connections in my brain that very few other brains have. Bridges between parts of my mind that other minds never built. My senses are crossed. In the easiest description--words, numbers, shapes, some sounds, and even some smells each have an individual color to me. Some have colors that I can't even put into words. Imagine my discomfort when people unknowingly pair hideous letters with beautiful ones; or worse, when pretty smells and ugly smells clash in the air. It's awful sometimes.
Right there, you should already know I'm right about being different. Very few people are lucky [or cursed] enough to have synesthesia, and it's different for every single synesthete. Since birth, right from the bat, I have been dubbed "abnormal." [Spectacular.]
2.) I feel others' emotions. We've been through this one, and I don't intend to explain it again. It's weird enough the first time.
3.) The dreams! The vivid, imaginative, colorfully detailed dreams. Dreams that blend with my conscious mind and mix in with reality. How unnerving.
4.) All the dejá vu. Around six times a day, lasting anywhere between three seconds and an hour. Annoyingly persistent and indestructible. Darn it.
5.) Everything else--the hidden instincts that take me by surprise, the way certain facts just drift into my brain and prove to be correct, the constant flow of ideas that have nothing to do with anything and yet still try to hold my focus... It's like my mind is out of my control, and I can't stand it.
Now that you believe me that I'm different [but not a freak--remember that. Freaks are people who do unnatural things for attention or a reaction. I hate attention, and I'm really not that freaky anyway, so ixnay on the eakfray idea.], let's get back on track. I was talking about my internal war, the one in my head.
Here's my big question--is it worth it to continue to use these differences, these so-called "gifts," in the ways that feel right and moral? To use them to "combat evil," in essence? That may be why they were given to me--to save lives and society's morals--but should I keep at it so religiously?
Lemme tell you--fighting evil is a full-time job. An occupation that overshadows everything else in your life. The minute you try to manipulate your mind to save the world, you destroy yourself slowly and painfully from the inside out.
I don't know how much more of this I can take. School is hard enough--I don't need to be combating the evil of the world, too. Just because I was granted these gifts [curses!] doesn't mean I want to use them all the time. Maybe I'd like a break, ya know?
Tell me--did Jesus ever get scared? I'm no son of God, but I feel his pain a bit here [and he seems like a good example]. I was shoved into a position I could hardly fill and not given a choice in the matter. Did Jesus want to be a regular kid? Did he want to forget about saving people from their sins, and just live his gosh-darn life while he could? I wouldn't blame him.
I can't die on a cross to save humanity. Heck, I don't even go to church regularly. But I've been given a job to do, and I'm scared to do it. I've been told to fight for what's good, using the gifts bestowed on me, and I'm terrified. I don't want to be a hero. I just want to be me.
I'm absolutely terrified.
Is this a war worth fighting?
I'm not talking about high school now, or life as a teenager. I'm not even talking about life in itself. I'm talking about the war within my mind, within the minds of everyone else who possesses the same kinds of gifts that I have. People who bear the same burden I must bear day after day.
It has taken me sixteen years to reach the point to where I am today. It seems like such a short time to you, doesn't it? But in those sixteen years, I've lived more than one life. I've been so many different people...
Each night I dream of worlds to which I can never travel. Every day I think about the world I live in, and wonder why I ended up in this one. So many more places, faces, times and tales--so many I'll never see. I will never have more than this world can offer.
In these sixteen years, I've come to see that I am indeed different from everyone else. My mind, even my brain, functions on a completely opposite plane than the rest of the world. No, I'm not more intelligent than the rest, and no, I'm not "special." I'm different.
You don't believe me? You think I'm just creating a miserable defense for my behavior and thoughts? A few key points of interest to consider when trying to decipher exactly how my mind works:
1.) I'm synesthetic [not synthetic, note the spelling difference]--for those who are unfamiliar with the term, it means that there are connections in my brain that very few other brains have. Bridges between parts of my mind that other minds never built. My senses are crossed. In the easiest description--words, numbers, shapes, some sounds, and even some smells each have an individual color to me. Some have colors that I can't even put into words. Imagine my discomfort when people unknowingly pair hideous letters with beautiful ones; or worse, when pretty smells and ugly smells clash in the air. It's awful sometimes.
Right there, you should already know I'm right about being different. Very few people are lucky [or cursed] enough to have synesthesia, and it's different for every single synesthete. Since birth, right from the bat, I have been dubbed "abnormal." [Spectacular.]
2.) I feel others' emotions. We've been through this one, and I don't intend to explain it again. It's weird enough the first time.
3.) The dreams! The vivid, imaginative, colorfully detailed dreams. Dreams that blend with my conscious mind and mix in with reality. How unnerving.
4.) All the dejá vu. Around six times a day, lasting anywhere between three seconds and an hour. Annoyingly persistent and indestructible. Darn it.
5.) Everything else--the hidden instincts that take me by surprise, the way certain facts just drift into my brain and prove to be correct, the constant flow of ideas that have nothing to do with anything and yet still try to hold my focus... It's like my mind is out of my control, and I can't stand it.
Now that you believe me that I'm different [but not a freak--remember that. Freaks are people who do unnatural things for attention or a reaction. I hate attention, and I'm really not that freaky anyway, so ixnay on the eakfray idea.], let's get back on track. I was talking about my internal war, the one in my head.
Here's my big question--is it worth it to continue to use these differences, these so-called "gifts," in the ways that feel right and moral? To use them to "combat evil," in essence? That may be why they were given to me--to save lives and society's morals--but should I keep at it so religiously?
Lemme tell you--fighting evil is a full-time job. An occupation that overshadows everything else in your life. The minute you try to manipulate your mind to save the world, you destroy yourself slowly and painfully from the inside out.
I don't know how much more of this I can take. School is hard enough--I don't need to be combating the evil of the world, too. Just because I was granted these gifts [curses!] doesn't mean I want to use them all the time. Maybe I'd like a break, ya know?
Tell me--did Jesus ever get scared? I'm no son of God, but I feel his pain a bit here [and he seems like a good example]. I was shoved into a position I could hardly fill and not given a choice in the matter. Did Jesus want to be a regular kid? Did he want to forget about saving people from their sins, and just live his gosh-darn life while he could? I wouldn't blame him.
I can't die on a cross to save humanity. Heck, I don't even go to church regularly. But I've been given a job to do, and I'm scared to do it. I've been told to fight for what's good, using the gifts bestowed on me, and I'm terrified. I don't want to be a hero. I just want to be me.
I'm absolutely terrified.
School, Take 2
Yep. Second day of school was almost as bad as the first. Less homework [and no broken car] made it slightly more bearable. But a certain teacher from hell, Thena leaving early, and plenty of disappointed hopes shoved it back down to "terrible."
No, I'm not being unnecessarily negative. Can't you see that I absolutely hate this whole system with every bone in my body? Can't you see that school is intolerable to me?
I just want to be done with school. Nothing about it appeals to me. With a few exceptions, it's nothing but a breeding ground for stupid and annoying kids. Girls who have nothing better to do than show off their bodies and flirt with boys. Boys who are only interested in the girls who can overlook their idiotic tendencies and flirt with them. Boys and girls who don't give a damn about their futures and only want to go to dances and have fun and flirt some more.
Honestly. If you took the average IQ from my graduating class alone, you'd come to a whopping 60. And the only reason it's higher than around a 35 is because of the very few intelligent, free-thinking people who brought up the score. It disgusts me.
I'm going to do my homework like a good girl and make it through these next two years only because I have no other options. And when that's through, I'll make it through college. And after that, a life-long career.
And maybe, someday, I'll find a place where I actually belong. Not a place where I just pretend to.
No, I'm not being unnecessarily negative. Can't you see that I absolutely hate this whole system with every bone in my body? Can't you see that school is intolerable to me?
I just want to be done with school. Nothing about it appeals to me. With a few exceptions, it's nothing but a breeding ground for stupid and annoying kids. Girls who have nothing better to do than show off their bodies and flirt with boys. Boys who are only interested in the girls who can overlook their idiotic tendencies and flirt with them. Boys and girls who don't give a damn about their futures and only want to go to dances and have fun and flirt some more.
Honestly. If you took the average IQ from my graduating class alone, you'd come to a whopping 60. And the only reason it's higher than around a 35 is because of the very few intelligent, free-thinking people who brought up the score. It disgusts me.
I'm going to do my homework like a good girl and make it through these next two years only because I have no other options. And when that's through, I'll make it through college. And after that, a life-long career.
And maybe, someday, I'll find a place where I actually belong. Not a place where I just pretend to.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Oh, Side Note!
Really quick...
HAPPY SIXTEENTH BIRTHDAY MADELINE LYNNETTE MORGAN! <3
I love you dear! :]
HAPPY SIXTEENTH BIRTHDAY MADELINE LYNNETTE MORGAN! <3
I love you dear! :]
September Makes Me Cry [a little]
I. HATE. SCHOOL.
Is there anything worse? Probably not. Let me give you a run-down of my absolutely terrible first day of eleventh grade. I'm trying to be positive, but if you had had this kind of day, you probably wouldn't be too nice either.
First hour: I walk in [almost as the bell rings, mind you, because my semi-moronic bus driver decided to sit on 19 mile until 7:10 and THEN drive to school] and sit down in Spanish IV. I read the board. Four pages of vocab.
Welcome back, students!
Second: AP Gov. Teacher is nice, but I'd be terrified to get on his bad side. And I already know that I won't like the course material. Total yuck.
Third: Honors English. I got an A on the summer homework [whew] but I am nauseated as I look at the upcoming tasks. It's all American Literature. And grammar lessons. How gross can you get?
Lunch was okay. Lots of freshmen who bought all the food and took up tons of tables. But that's okay, we'll put an end to that nonsense. At least Thena was in my lunch hour...
Fourth: AP Psych. Probably my new favorite class. Not only because I love learning about the human mind, but because it's not going to be as ridiculous as all my other classes. I will actually enjoy this one. Yay.
Fifth: Physics. Teacher wears a lab coat and only the really annoying kids talk. Maddy's in my class, but we're desks apart. Ought to be interesting [in a totally awful way...].
Sixth: AC Trig. Disko and Maddy are in my class, again, as are many other kiddles that I love. Teacher wasn't even there today, so we were entertained by a sub. For fifty-five minutes. Ugh. And we have two textbooks to haul around--ew?
Oh, and I got homework in every subject. Miraculously, I managed to finish Gov and Trig before school ended. But everything else came home with me. FOUR SUBJECTS OF HOMEWORK ON THE FIRST DAY.
Speaking of the ride home--Aphrie's car died as we were pulling out of the school driveway. We pulled into a park entrance, pushed the Cougar to the parking area, and called my dad [he was home, thank God] to bring his jumper cables. I was absolutely starving [shaking so bad I couldn't even write my name on my sixth hour work], dying in the heat, and completely irritated by the time he showed up. Pretty much ready to sit down and bawl my eyes out.
Cables didn't work--the battery was fine. In the words of my father, who tried everything he could, "either there's no spark or no fuel getting in." I don't know what that means, I don't speak Automobile, but apparently it is the equivalent of "the car isn't going to take you anywhere." So we locked up her car, left it in the park, and my dad drove us all home.
Like I said, ready to sit down and cry. I walked in the door, put on comfy clothes [jeans aren't good in the heat!], and ate frozen cookie dough straight from the container, not caring who saw me. I honestly don't care. I'm a compulsive fatty. Deal with it. :]
I went straight into homework after that. Oh, I lie--I did my 2.5 hours of homework after I complained to my mom on the phone for awhile. She didn't have the best day either, so it felt good for both of us to whine.
Good parts here:
My brother came home and told me all about his good day. He has the same six teachers I had in eighth grade--how creepy is that? Anyway, none of them said anything to him about being my brother, so he was happy. What a good kid.
My dad and I went school supply shopping, and I got some nice new stuff. Nothing like a bunch of new notebooks to brighten your day, eh? Yeah.
Now I'm sitting here, totally burned out, almost incapable of thinking clearly. I'd bet half my college fund that I'll have twice as much homework AND a few quizzes tomorrow. Oh, joy. All of my teachers droned on and on today about how "the demand this year is doubling" and "you're going to have to work harder than you've ever worked before" and yada yada yada. I nearly threw up. Do they sincerely think I'm capable of doubling my workload? Is anyone capable of that? News flash, teachers--your subject isn't any more important than anyone else's, and I actually do have five other classes to work for. If you all say you're being nice by only giving me a half hour of homework, that leaves me THREE WHOLE HOURS of homework a night. Thanks a ton.
Maybe I'll go read a sad book and cry until I fall asleep. It's nice being a girl, being able to get away with that kind of weak crap. Not that I enjoy feeling weak--I just like having the ability to cry. Some people are afraid of tears; I welcome them. Emotional release, you know?
Sigh. I hate high school. How many more days until graduation? Oh, that's right. Way too many.
Is there anything worse? Probably not. Let me give you a run-down of my absolutely terrible first day of eleventh grade. I'm trying to be positive, but if you had had this kind of day, you probably wouldn't be too nice either.
First hour: I walk in [almost as the bell rings, mind you, because my semi-moronic bus driver decided to sit on 19 mile until 7:10 and THEN drive to school] and sit down in Spanish IV. I read the board. Four pages of vocab.
Welcome back, students!
Second: AP Gov. Teacher is nice, but I'd be terrified to get on his bad side. And I already know that I won't like the course material. Total yuck.
Third: Honors English. I got an A on the summer homework [whew] but I am nauseated as I look at the upcoming tasks. It's all American Literature. And grammar lessons. How gross can you get?
Lunch was okay. Lots of freshmen who bought all the food and took up tons of tables. But that's okay, we'll put an end to that nonsense. At least Thena was in my lunch hour...
Fourth: AP Psych. Probably my new favorite class. Not only because I love learning about the human mind, but because it's not going to be as ridiculous as all my other classes. I will actually enjoy this one. Yay.
Fifth: Physics. Teacher wears a lab coat and only the really annoying kids talk. Maddy's in my class, but we're desks apart. Ought to be interesting [in a totally awful way...].
Sixth: AC Trig. Disko and Maddy are in my class, again, as are many other kiddles that I love. Teacher wasn't even there today, so we were entertained by a sub. For fifty-five minutes. Ugh. And we have two textbooks to haul around--ew?
Oh, and I got homework in every subject. Miraculously, I managed to finish Gov and Trig before school ended. But everything else came home with me. FOUR SUBJECTS OF HOMEWORK ON THE FIRST DAY.
Speaking of the ride home--Aphrie's car died as we were pulling out of the school driveway. We pulled into a park entrance, pushed the Cougar to the parking area, and called my dad [he was home, thank God] to bring his jumper cables. I was absolutely starving [shaking so bad I couldn't even write my name on my sixth hour work], dying in the heat, and completely irritated by the time he showed up. Pretty much ready to sit down and bawl my eyes out.
Cables didn't work--the battery was fine. In the words of my father, who tried everything he could, "either there's no spark or no fuel getting in." I don't know what that means, I don't speak Automobile, but apparently it is the equivalent of "the car isn't going to take you anywhere." So we locked up her car, left it in the park, and my dad drove us all home.
Like I said, ready to sit down and cry. I walked in the door, put on comfy clothes [jeans aren't good in the heat!], and ate frozen cookie dough straight from the container, not caring who saw me. I honestly don't care. I'm a compulsive fatty. Deal with it. :]
I went straight into homework after that. Oh, I lie--I did my 2.5 hours of homework after I complained to my mom on the phone for awhile. She didn't have the best day either, so it felt good for both of us to whine.
Good parts here:
My brother came home and told me all about his good day. He has the same six teachers I had in eighth grade--how creepy is that? Anyway, none of them said anything to him about being my brother, so he was happy. What a good kid.
My dad and I went school supply shopping, and I got some nice new stuff. Nothing like a bunch of new notebooks to brighten your day, eh? Yeah.
Now I'm sitting here, totally burned out, almost incapable of thinking clearly. I'd bet half my college fund that I'll have twice as much homework AND a few quizzes tomorrow. Oh, joy. All of my teachers droned on and on today about how "the demand this year is doubling" and "you're going to have to work harder than you've ever worked before" and yada yada yada. I nearly threw up. Do they sincerely think I'm capable of doubling my workload? Is anyone capable of that? News flash, teachers--your subject isn't any more important than anyone else's, and I actually do have five other classes to work for. If you all say you're being nice by only giving me a half hour of homework, that leaves me THREE WHOLE HOURS of homework a night. Thanks a ton.
Maybe I'll go read a sad book and cry until I fall asleep. It's nice being a girl, being able to get away with that kind of weak crap. Not that I enjoy feeling weak--I just like having the ability to cry. Some people are afraid of tears; I welcome them. Emotional release, you know?
Sigh. I hate high school. How many more days until graduation? Oh, that's right. Way too many.
Monday, September 3, 2007
Paint-By-Number Person
I feel like writing again.
I was in a Christmas shop a few days back and I found a bunch of wall hangings with sayings I really liked. I took pictures of them on my phone [I'm so technologically advanced!] and now I want to share.
"Live well, laugh often, love much." Makes me think of Maddy [livelaughlove!]. It's a good idea, though, for stress relief. Especially the laughing part. It may seem improbable, but yes, even I am capable of giggling. And there's no point to having relationships with other human beings if you aren't going to love them [hence the reason I love my siblings]. And, well, life is kind of crucial to the whole "living" idea. Can't be alive if you don't live.
"The best thing about having a sister is I always have a friend." Too true! I love having my sisters. I don't have a biological sister [well, maybe, if Thena and I are right about Paul...] so I make do with my not-so-biological ones. It's nice to know that even when we all irritate each other and we're fighting like angry animals, we still love each other because we're sisters. Isn't that lovely?
And finally, my favorite:
"Life isn't about finding yourself, it's about creating yourself." YES! EXACTLY! YAY! Life IS about creating yourself. You're only as good as you make yourself out to be. And despite popular belief, you can't just find yourself anywhere. I'd love to--it would make things so much easier--but it seems as if the only place I can be found is within my own mind.
So I'm gonna make myself. I'm gonna fill in all the blanks. I'll color myself exactly how I see fit, just like a paint-by-numbers kit [except I will pick the numbers and colors]. I will make me.
Good luck creating yourself. :] Not easy, but necessary. If you need paint, I might have extra...
I was in a Christmas shop a few days back and I found a bunch of wall hangings with sayings I really liked. I took pictures of them on my phone [I'm so technologically advanced!] and now I want to share.
"Live well, laugh often, love much." Makes me think of Maddy [livelaughlove!]. It's a good idea, though, for stress relief. Especially the laughing part. It may seem improbable, but yes, even I am capable of giggling. And there's no point to having relationships with other human beings if you aren't going to love them [hence the reason I love my siblings]. And, well, life is kind of crucial to the whole "living" idea. Can't be alive if you don't live.
"The best thing about having a sister is I always have a friend." Too true! I love having my sisters. I don't have a biological sister [well, maybe, if Thena and I are right about Paul...] so I make do with my not-so-biological ones. It's nice to know that even when we all irritate each other and we're fighting like angry animals, we still love each other because we're sisters. Isn't that lovely?
And finally, my favorite:
"Life isn't about finding yourself, it's about creating yourself." YES! EXACTLY! YAY! Life IS about creating yourself. You're only as good as you make yourself out to be. And despite popular belief, you can't just find yourself anywhere. I'd love to--it would make things so much easier--but it seems as if the only place I can be found is within my own mind.
So I'm gonna make myself. I'm gonna fill in all the blanks. I'll color myself exactly how I see fit, just like a paint-by-numbers kit [except I will pick the numbers and colors]. I will make me.
Good luck creating yourself. :] Not easy, but necessary. If you need paint, I might have extra...
Ewwww...
School starts tomorrow. How nauseating does that sound? Makes me want to... oh, I don't know what. Something violent, I guess.
But no matter what I do, it will start anyway. As it always does, disgustingly enough. Every year I look back on my summer and I see how much of it I wasted. This year it's even worse, as I consider the fact that it was my last real summer without having to work or apply to colleges.
Goodbye, freedom. Goodbye, sleeping in. Hello, responsibility.
Growing up sure is a pain in the neck. Who really wants to be an adult, anyway? Yes, being a teenager sucks, but being a little kid was awesome. Why can't we all just be little kids? Why? WHY?
Whatever. School is dumb. I love to learn--but I don't really do much of that in school, to be completely honest. Most of the time I'm bored stiff. Yippee.
I won't write much now. I have a whopping 20.5 hours left until the first bell rings. I intend to squander it properly.
Arty's [not in any way happy, and] out.
But no matter what I do, it will start anyway. As it always does, disgustingly enough. Every year I look back on my summer and I see how much of it I wasted. This year it's even worse, as I consider the fact that it was my last real summer without having to work or apply to colleges.
Goodbye, freedom. Goodbye, sleeping in. Hello, responsibility.
Growing up sure is a pain in the neck. Who really wants to be an adult, anyway? Yes, being a teenager sucks, but being a little kid was awesome. Why can't we all just be little kids? Why? WHY?
Whatever. School is dumb. I love to learn--but I don't really do much of that in school, to be completely honest. Most of the time I'm bored stiff. Yippee.
I won't write much now. I have a whopping 20.5 hours left until the first bell rings. I intend to squander it properly.
Arty's [not in any way happy, and] out.
Saturday, September 1, 2007
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