*sigh*

That was last night, just outside my house. The end of the sunset.

Gorgeous yeah?

The Book of Flying

If there is anything I recommend you do, read "The Book of Flying" by Keith Miller.

It is remarkable, stunning, mesmerizing.

One of the best books I've read in a while, mostly because it is so poetic.

It won't take you a small amount of time to read it, and if it does, then you haven't read it close enough. This is the kind of book you want to savor, and take your time with.

I absolutely love it. Every line, every paragraph, every page is a poem in its own right.

I have to buy this book, if it's the last thing I do. :D

At last!

I got my camera tonight.

It's more than unbelievable.

It fucking fabulous.

:D I'm so excited!

Expect pictures, lots of them. One of them, at least, pertaining to my eyes. Lol.

Now I'm going to go write an essay.

IF. It's always 'if.'

I thought this went well with my side quotes.

And if it doesn't, the song is still great.

If You Had My Love - Jennifer Lopez

What was that?

So, what was that about yesterday?

Let's see. Mood swings aplenty. No path in my mind, none for the future. I have no clue where I'm going or what I'm doing or what I'm supposed to do, and it's simply killing me.

Day before yesterday, as you might have seen, I had unbounded energy. When I got home, I was extremely sleepy. Then yesterday I was increasingly angry at everything as my day progressed, everyone simply irritating me beyond end. When I got home, I cried in front of my mom, probably for the first time ever. So, I was a little freaked out. My mood is changing so rapidly, and to such extremes, that even I'm getting dizzy. I can't keep up with myself anymore.

After crying to my mom for about fifteen minutes, trying to explain what I can't even explain to myself, she suggested we go to the greek resturant downtown. It was nice. I love that place, they have the best food. Unfortunately, because of that, I stuffed myself silly. But it was still delicious. Then, my sister came home with an enormous bag of M&Ms. Perfect.

I asked my mom if I could stay home today, and I did. It was wonderful, but I'm still tired.

On the bright side, I got into a college. It's only in town and stuff, but it's way better than nothing. That was one of the things I was freaking out about: I hadn't gotten into any colleges yet. I had no safety net. (That rhymes, doesn't it?) But still. Now I have at least something, even if I don't get any financial aid, even if I drown in debt, at least I have somewhere to go. My mom plans to move as soon as I graduate, my sister wants to move to Oregon, and I couldn't possibly live at my grandparents house, as they're getting older. So, now I have a place to go. Egads, I feel like a lost puppy dog. Everyone is abandoning me. Now, I've found my dog house, my little cardboard box next to that house down the street with the nice lady who gives out scraps. Sheesh.

Anyway. I have to write an essay for this Valedictorian scholarship, it's due in a couple of days. I figure, I'll get the rest of the forms for that place out of the way this week. I'm excited, and for the moment, not anxious anymore. I think.

Oh, did I mention? I got all A's for this semester. Still Valedictorian!! :D Still safe. Now, I just have to do the same for the next four months.

Fuck. I'm screwed.

I had a conversation with C. and somehow it turned up in our conversation where I said "You suck." and he goes "Is that why you're in love with me?" I answered him "I'm not in love you. Don't feel so special." And he goes "Damn! Now I can't rip your soul from your body" or some such shit. That's the way he is. But now he knows that I'm not in love with him. Lol. Yeah, don't give me that eye roll. I'm not. I like him, sometimes, but I'm definitely not in love with him.

My story that I'm doing with L. has finally got chapter one posted. Currently, I have chapters one through four written. I'm rather proud. But L is bugging me about "where is the story going to go" "what do we want to happen?" "how do we want it to end (character personality/growth-wise)?" God. She just needs to tell me what the hell she wants to happen, so I can think about it. But after she asks me all of this shit, she tells me that she hasn't even thought once about the story. That's what is so goddamn frustrating about this all. I'm getting rather irritated. Fuck, if she wants something specific, she needs to give me some goddamn examples.

Here I go again. All moody and stuff. Sorry. Anyway, the first chapter is up, and it's hilarious, I think. It's called "Brighter Than Neon." What do you think? I think you should read it. *laughs*

http://www.harrypotterfanfiction.com/viewuser.php?showuid=161359

And yes, our penname is 'twitchy_pigeons.' Got a problem with that?

Lol.

Good night whomever you are that reads this blog. And if you do read my story, review or comment on it. I would love feedback, even if it's anonymous. ;)

Nothing.

I'm drowning on dry land.

Nothing can save me. No one can help me.

How did I get here, and still feel like a child. I'm expected to be years older than I am. All of my classmates are a year older than I am. I haven't got that mental maturity that I think I need, when it comes to being prepared to reality. I'm so lost, so overwhelmed.

In a pit of quicksand, drowning, watching the grains pull themselves over my head, fold me in their embrace, like a python squeezing the life out of me, a wet rag shoved down my throat, ropes binding my body. I can't move, I can't breathe, I can't see.

I'm drowning on dry land, and no one will save.

the BEST book (or one of. . .)

I'm just going to jump right in, because I haven't really got time to ramble this morning.

Okay, my eyes are actually not really jade, I guess. More the same color as the background on my header. That's probably my eyes color, if a little lighter and eye-like. :D

My sister has these lovely rich mahogany, deep brown eyes. She says she doesn't like them. I think they're beautiful. She even said that people usually call them black. Psht. Not even close.

I'm reading this book at the moment "The Book of Flying" by Keith Miller. Let me tell you what, I think I'm going to have to buy this book. Yes, it's that good. It's one of my new favorites. Don't get me wrong, it isn't exactly the longest book, nor does it have a particularly captivating plot and such. No, this book is absolutely amazing simply because it's written in such a way as to make me believe that I'm reading a poem in prose form. There's a poem hidden within it. I love it. Like, there is a ton of alliteration in it, and when he describes things - the imagery is spectacular. But I am simply . . . what do you call it, building up this pedestal and simply worshipping this book. I love it. Suffice it to say. :D I suggest you read it, it may be small, but it isn't going to take you a small time to read it. For me, mostly, it takes forever simply because I keep wanting to copy down this phrase, or that paragraph, or those comments. Lol. It's very arduous because of it. Which is why I think it best if I buy the book. Then I could reread it, memorize said lines, and not have to worry about losing them. :D

Problem solved. Read the damn book. :D

Oh, and comment, if you feel like it, to describe your own eyes. Lol. I would be doubly interested to know, whether I know you or not, whether I've ever heard of you or seen your blog or not. :D I still find it fascinating to know.

Same as Yesterday.

I'm still procrastinating . . . it seems a neverending job and chore. :D

And . . . it's still Physics, with the addition of Math, as well. Except this semester, I don't have study hall first period, so I can't finish my homework then. Damn.

But I'm okay. I have an inordinate amount of energy, a crazy insane amount, today. I mean, literally, as the day progressed, I got even more energy. I was actually bouncing in my seat by fifth period, about one o'clock. Literally bouncing. I couldn't stand, sit, or talk still. :D

I can't imagine where it came from, though. I'd only gotten 2.5 hours of sleep. So maybe it was simply too little sleep, yeah? That's what everybody concluded, in any case. Personally, I choose not to question the authorities who govern how great I feel. :D

A friend in my last class actually said "Stop bouncing around, you're making me feel tired" or something to that effect. Needless to say, it didn't work.

L. told me before sixth that I had to calm down, and I did manage to. But then some idiots decided to give me some jolly ranchers. :D Yeah, you can imagine. It was fun. Latin and energy. Never knew that combination could coexist. Lol.

On a random note, I've realized something tonight that is scary. Really, very much so. The guy I used to have a major crush on for the better part of my high school "career" looks a lot like my brother. I didn't really have a dad, so you could say I'm attracted to the similarities in the "male figure" of my childhood years. You know, the one who fucked up my innocence and and all that crap. :D Wonderful realization, isn't it? I thought so too. I think I'll steer clear of said guy, he can't really help it that he looks like my brother. I'm sure he's great, and nothing like the asshole I know. But nevertheless, I don't want to go down that sort of path, you know? It isn't like I talk to him anyway, so it won't be so difficult. Lol.

Another random thing, I have suddenly become very fascinated by eye color. It kind of freaked L out today after school when I kept looking in her eye to see, exactly, what color her eyes were, down to every shade and stuff. Lol. I couldn't help it, I just wanted to know. I did that to my other friends in Latin. One of them, B., had hazel eyes, and this color was the whole initiator to my new fascination, not specifically her eyes, but that general eye color. Did you know most people with hazel eyes typically have brown in the center of their eyes, and green on the outside? Their eye color changes a lot, but that's still cool. B's eyes, they're so cool. They're mostly a reddish brown, but they have a dark green around the outside edges. It's an awesome color, and totally hazel.

I've noticed my eyes better, and I've been better able to recognize the colors in my eyes. I have a kind of pale, jade-like shade of green eyes, but in the middle of them is a light ring of almost yellow. The best part is that the outside edge, just a faint outline, if you look in the light, there's a little bit of light blue. And, if you look on my right eye, towards the bottom inside part of the iris, there is a little spot, just a single little dark dot. It's awesome. Almost like a beauty spot, except that it's on my eye. :D But I'm simply having fun describing eyes, not even paying attention to what you might be interested in.

Anyway. I'm still hyped on energy, so I should get my homework out of the way, before I crash. I'm sure I will crash, I just hope it won't be until Friday after school. Lol. If only . . .

Procrastinating . . .

I'm supposed to be finishing my homework so I can go to sleep. *sheepish smile*

I'm listening to music instead. It was part of my English homework, but I finished that, so now I have no excuse and I'm simply wasting time. Oh well. *rolls eyes*

"What is real / Just a dream"

Somewhere in Between - Lifehouse

I've rediscovered songs in my MP3 I didn't even remember I had. It's all very exciting.

I'm going to finish my Physics right now, though, and go to bed. It's already one o'clock. *sighs* At least I got my laundry done. :D

I found this.

I found this tonight as I was browsing my old entries on my poetry blog. I never posted this one, I saved it as a draft after deciding I didn't want to post it. I'm glad I never deleted it. It's a lot of things I don't think I'd be able to analyze at the current. I think there are some good points in here, as well. It's long, but not too bad. I need to record it somewhere.

—
November 13, 2008
I can’t concentrate, I can’t focus. Ugh, this is frustrating. My homework is piling up, and grading period is next week. I can’t afford to forget. Forget to work, forget to eat, forget to sleep. What is it everyone else nags you about? What you eat? The people you spend your time with? The risky, unhealthy, maybe dangerous and completely stupid things you do? Not me. No, I get pestered constantly about how much I sleep. Apparently, it is the cause of all of my problems. The reason why I can’t focus, why I get scars so easily, why I feel as though my heart keeps missing a beat, why my lungs seize the moment my heart stops, why my legs go numb almost instantly when I bend over, why I just can’t seem to get it together.

I’m past the whole depression issues, I think. Or, at least, I’m not thinking along that line anymore. But I am treading close to apathy, which has happened before. Yet this time I don’t know what is going to revitalize me, jump start my heart, push me back into the game. I can’t seem to make anybody angry at me anymore, which is odd in the fact that it’s frustrating. All I get is indifference, passivity, “Fine. Okay, if that’s what you want to do.” If I was a dog right now I’d be growling. I suppose frustrating is too light a word, then. Aggravating. Infuriating. Even more so for the fact that they are the ones who should be feeling what I feel, not the other way around.

But then I have to stop and think, ask myself “Why do I want them to be angry at me?” Perhaps I want to feel guilty about what I’m doing to myself, my health. I want to feel excruciatingly guilty about jeopardizing my own future simply because I can’t get it together, and in a way don’t want to. But they keep letting me. They don’t care. ‘It’s my future, let me do with it what I will. It’s my life, let me ruin it if I can.’ It just makes me want to cry out in frustration. Do they not realize how much damage I could actually inflict on myself before I ever think to turn around, before I ever get the idea to consider stopping my ruinous rampage? It may be my life, but for God’s sake, if they know so much better, if they have all that advice for me, why the hell don’t they act on it faster, sooner? Why the hell don’t they act on it at all. It isn’t as though I’m completely unreachable. I’m quite easy to get through to. But as soon as you abandon me, I abandon myself. I just want to scream at them “Don’t give me advice and then walk off, shrugging and saying ‘Huh, I don’t care, actually.’” It’s pointless. Useless.

Yes. Love, concern, worry, maybe even frustration at me as well. But it doesn’t seem to be enough to jump start them. What the hell will it take to wake them up?

I don’t want to kill myself, but I also don’t want that option to be in my hands. I don’t want that ability to be in my power. With power comes responsibility, with responsibility comes pain. Because it is pain to know what is right and what you must do, but not want to do it anyway. Who wants to live like this?

There will be those of you out there who want to yell at me that it is my goddamn life, I shouldn’t let others tell me what I should do. That’s weak, I know. Weakness. I know that also. But I know even more that all my life, I’ve been so tenacious in holding on to my independence, of not asking questions, of working without help, of going my own way. I’m not a follower. That is an absolutely foolish way to live. I know that, and you should as well. That isn’t strength. Hell, I don’t even know what strength is. It isn’t getting up everyday, though you don’t want to. That is passivity, resignation, indifference. It isn’t hiding your feelings, supporting yourself. That’s pride, fear. They can’t, even you can’t, tell me to be strong. I can’t be what I don’t know how to be. I can’t do what I don’t know.

Tenacity. That’s self-preservation. Independence is only fear of being let down by others, believing that you must take care of yourself because you can’t trust the world around you. Is trust the key?

Fear. That’s what governs me. Everything I do, isn’t it impelled by fear? The fear of losing something, the fear of being wrong, the fear of being forgotten. Doesn’t it seem ridiculous? Silly beyond words? Yes, but what can I do? What can I say? I’m simply afraid I won’t be able to do anything I ever thought I could, and so I yearn for someone to push me there, to motivate, inspire, remind. Maybe I’m afraid of becoming my mother, still sitting there, waiting for something, someone, to come. I’m afraid I’ll forget what it is I’m waiting for. I’m afraid to forget.

How did this evolve from lack of concentration? Wandering, rambling, completely independent mind. I shouldn’t begrudge it’s lack of focus. In a way, its out of focus, blurry perspective of the world keeps me better in focus, aware that I need to concentrate. I suppose I should have written this in my journal rather than here. That would have been wisest. But it would also have gone against the one thing I hold on to the most: that indescribable, incalculable, unstoppable need to not be forgotten, to not become invisible, ordinary, unoriginal, indistinct. I don’t know what else to do. If I could, I would completely ignore all the work I must do, all the papers, assignments, chores, everything, and just focus on the outside, on writing, on the words and the paper and the pencil. I would focus on me. Would that help? Yet, I can’t drop any of those things, because then I would have nothing left for me when I turn back to go inside.

So I guess I’ll never know the answer to any of these questions. Shame.

I do have a lot more that I want to ramble about, but obviously you don’t have all day to spend reading me. Whining, I suppose you could call it. Maybe I’ll have another post like this later, maybe. I don’t know. As I do on all posts of this nature, I congratulate you for your patience and fortitude. Even if you can relate to this, it is still arduous to read a lot of something with little or no entertainment value.

There will be poetry sometime after this post. I have been writing a bit, I have some poems available for posting, but I don’t think they are either good enough, or even appropriate for posting. There is always some little detail in them that prevents me from posting them. I apologize for that. I am a very nitpicky writer. And a garrulous one, as well. I am also attempting to undertake a sort of renovation of my book, trying to fill in the gaps to make it more of a story, perhaps even continue on in the plot from where I left off. It’s been around six months since last I added onto it, after all. I feel like I have neglected it. So, I’m going to try to pick it back up. This may reduce the amount of poetry I write, not that I’ve been writing all that much lately. That is, of course, if I start writing again. I’ve been having some computer time issues with my mom. It’s all very frustrating for me, but not anyone else. Of course.

So, for now, I’m done spewing my word vomit, all of which belongs in a journal. Most definitely belongs in a journal. Treat it nicely in your minds.

Sorry, but

I have no energy.

No energy to type, no energy to think.

My nerves are knotting themselves, squeezing and spasming and tangling at random, painful moments. The knots in my shoulders, my neck, my head. It was worst, today, when I was in Latin last period. It was painful.

Do they call these tension headaches. I wouldn't. I'd call them something else, because this is happening all over my body. And my throat hurts, though I doubt I'll get sick. I never do when I want to. My heart is beating next to a needle, every beat hurts. My lungs are shallower, I can't breathe deep enough anymore, even if I concentrate and try.

Right now, my head simply aches, and I have absolutely no energy in my muscles, nothing. Nothing to use. But I have homework, and I've promised, no, swore to myself I'd do it. I did some last night. I really did.

But I have to tonight. So I need to conserve what little I have left and quit typing.

More on Sunday or Monday perhaps, as I'm staying at L's house tomorrow. That might be a mistake, but at least we'll get some writing done. Possibly more applications.

My MP3 is dead at the moment. I have to wait for it to charge. I'm not being patient.

But I have to go before my shoulders and neck spasm again.

Love and whatever else is out there. I'm still in a good mood, just tired and ready to cry, if that makes any sense. :D

<-- (Right. Title goes here.) -->

Can I just say right from the beginning? I am in love with Joshua Radin's songs at this moment. His music is so quiet, calm, and yet not. It's like Lifehouse, but softer.

Winter
These Photographs
Closer ***
Only You ***
Someone Else's Life ***
Everything'll Be Alright ***
What If You
Star Mile
Today

Or basically, his entire CD We Were Here. :D I told you, I'm in love with his music. It all fits so naturally into my mind, it does not intrude. *sighs* It's very calming, as well. A little heartbreaking and bittersweet, too, but that might just be me. His songs are, after all, mostly about love. Yeah, I know.

I really have a silent promise in my head not to really write about C. on here very often. I don't want to, mostly because it inevitably leads to either confusion, anger, annoyance, sadness, self-pitying tears, or all of them together. Not necessarily because of him, but because of the issues he brings up, the ideas his presence induces, the memories and pangs he unconsciously tugs back into my mind. But these past few days, he's been so here that it's very difficult not to talk about him.

It isn't as though I harbor a hope for him. That's over with, I'm sure of it. But he continually says things which make me almost want to doubt my assurance, things which are almost purposefully pushing me to, vaguely demanding, urging, coaxing me to give up what I've resolved and simply fall head over heels. It's almost like he wants me to fall for him, and in doing so, to fall so irrevocably, fall so hard that it's impossible for me to stand back up without him. I know that isn't his purpose, but it really does make me doubt sometimes.

He's adamant in saying things to definitively push me away, like "I only like older women." But then he goes and says things like "I only want to date a poet, and she has to be beautiful, and smart." . . . yeah, mixed messages much? Or maybe that's just me. I do seem to read too much into things, and when I see what he describes I think "Me!" It's highly and extremely likely that isn't what he means by this. *rolls eyes* I truly am pathetic sometimes.

. . .

I got very sidetracked. Um, according to L. (because she saw the worst of tonight, the worst of my sleep deprivation, the . . . side effects) I really really really need to go to bed now. She could read it in my writing, apparently, as we chatted. :D She's right.

I'm going to bed, then.

Impossible?

There's something almost impossible sounding about saying "I'm writing a book." That's a lot of words, after all. A lot. And not only do you have to have those words in your head, you have to be able to wield them, channel them, and make them sound like they fit together, interlocking puzzle pieces designed as if by Fate. But more than that, you need to have the ideas in your mind, some idea, whether it be formless or highly defined and outlined. Perhaps that's why I've been working on my book for over a year now. I haven't got enough experience in life and people to fill an entire book just yet. Though, there are authors who take two years, or more, to write a book. I don't know.

I like to say that I'm about three-quarters done with my book. "The Leaves of Autumn" I've named it. I even have a sequel planned out, almost planned, I have an outline in my mind of what I want to say in it, I think I even have a title. But first I have to finish my book.

They say a good-sized, 200-page book is about 55,000 words. Something like that, I think. My book is about 42,000. Yeah. Wow. That's a lot of words. Considering, at the end of the last sentence I'd only written just over 200 words. You see?

It's daunting, to say the least. But the idea of finishing my book, that doesn't scare me. I know I can, if not immediately. What I'm worried about is what I do when I'm done with it. Do I print it out for myself, self-publish it, or try and get it published by someone else? Do I have a friend edit it, edit it myself, let close relatives or friends read it, hoard it all to myself? I'm terrified of what I will do when I'm done with it. Because that will be a huge, long, consistent, constant phase of my life. For the past two years, all I've really wanted to write on was my book. Though I've abandoned it periodically to write short stories, to write poems, to write nothing at all, I've still come back to it. But what happens when I haven't got that to come back to? When I have to start all over again? I've never written anything as long as that. Never. It was the first time I ever finished a story, or extended one this much; it marked the beginning of the times when I could finish a story. Up until then, when I really began writing my book, I'd never even written poems beyond five or seven stanzas. I couldn't go that distance, in my words, on paper. I didn't have the patience, I didn't have the experience, I didn't have the time to want to perservere. I can't tell how many stories I opted to make one chapter when they could likely have gone on for ages, if I'd had the desire.

But perhaps I simply hadn't read enough books, hadn't done enough things, hadn't seen enough in my life, thought enough, experienced enough, to be able to write. By now, I feel as though I've experienced the entire range of emotions, truly experienced them, to be able to write them more comfortably. Now I don't have to be as afraid of messing up a character's reaction to something, because now I'm more aware of how to feel and react myself. I've observed people over the years, learning how they interact and act and move and live. Perhaps, I simply hadn't observed enough.

Then I stop and wonder, have I still not observed enough? Do I only think I know how to make my characters live? Is it only a false sense of wisdom that drives my writing?

And what will I do, if when I finish my book, people read it, and it simply isn't as good as I ever thought it was, as I ever thought it could be, as they thought it might be. What if it isn't believable, or realistic, or seeable. What if my characters are silly, pointless, fake? And what if it's obvious - that I don't know what I'm talking about? Do I?

I don't know. I honestly don't know, and I'm afraid to find out.

So many things . . .

. . . to say today. :D

First: Mmmmm. . . beef stew, without the beef. Yum. I'm telling ya, this is good stuff. Really good. *pauses to savor*

Next order of business. Guess what! I finally got the pictures for the tree I talked about ages ago. Okay, a month ago, but still. That was a lot of posts ago. But anyway. To refresh your memory, for Key Club me and some others decorated a christmas tree to make it look like Frosty the Snowman. It didn't turn out so great, though I had a really good time doing it. Check him out. Hideous ain't he? Yeah, when we went shopping for ornaments, everybody kind of went overboard and bought a lot of them, so the poor little guy was just way overtopped by ornaments. He was only a six-footer, so not nearly big enough. But it was cool. And to think, somebody had to buy this, too. :D I bet they hid him straightaway. I mean, come on, wouldn't you?

Also, I got my grades back for my English, Math, and Latin finals. Let's see. I got a perfect score on the first portion of my English final (time to gloat, yeah?) . I think I got about an A minus on my math final, with the curve, so I probably got somewhere around a B, though I'm not sure. He hasn't handed the actual test back to us yet. I got a B on my Latin final. But, overall, I have all A's. I squealed with delight, it was absolutely awesome.

Next, um, I think I have something to say. . . Or rather, I thought I did. Hm. Let me stew a bit. (Wait, did I just make a pun?) Lol. I know, sad.

I have a class with G. again. He's, um, well, I don't really know how to describe him. He's sweet, in a way, but he's a gemini to the core. In a guy way. You know, player. Lol. I've known him since elementary school when we took the same bus. He always calls me "Texas lady." That's actually the only nickname I have, and he's the only one who calls me that. It started in fifth grade, when I first moved here and me being from Texas was a novelty. He started calling me that, and he has ever since. It's sweet, really. And he seemed pretty excited when I sat down in class this morning. Like "Texas lady, you're in here?! Awesome!" Lol. I'm terrible at paraphrasing, I know this, and now you do too. :D

We've had such beautiful weather these past couple of days. I'm going to hate Friday and Thursday. Want to know why? Of course you don't. Today's high was 60. Yes, 60 degrees, and sunny, and cloudless. It was wonderful, and agonizing. Wonderful, well that's obvious. Agonizing because who the hell would want to be stuck in a big brick building when it's like that outside? *sighs* Friday's high is supposed to be about 15 degrees. Or thereabouts. Yeah. Plus, it's supposed to snow, too. Ah, snow. To think I truly wanted you once. Lol.

Now that I've done my discourse, I want to eat. This beef stew really smells absolutely divine. Literally. *mock swoons with pleasure*

Oh.

PS. Second lunch, not so bad. Like my sister said, the day actually does go faster. Surprisingly so, swift and sunny. :D On the downside, M. (yeah, the obnoxious, a bit obsessed, can't take a hint, likes me though I don't like him, you see who I mean now?) he wants to switch lunch periods so that he has second as well. Plus, that would give him the same study hall. Just picture it: One hour, one semi-dark room (the balcony of the auditorium, where study hall is), and one very childish, talkative, head-over-heels in crush boy who still acts like he's in middle school. *sighs* This will be one major test of patience, let me tell you what. And if I don't snap at him (provided he does get that study hall, like he so desperately wants), if I don't snap at him by February 14, (hint-hint-look at the date-hint), then I will be extremely surprised. :D Hey, PMS. Can't blame me. . . *whistles innocently, eyes wander away* I'd rather have C. there, he may piss me off, but at least he entertains me. You know? *rolls eyes* Can't have everything. Though, that does sound really nice when I put it that way. The way I described study hall, it sounds almost, clandestine. Lol. Damn imagination.

:D

Enjoy your day! Oh, and isn't Frosty just plain creepy? Yeah, pay particular attention to his eyes. Can you see them? *grins*

These Photographs - Joshua Radin
[Yes, just one. ;) ]

Currently . . .

. . . waiting for my sister to get done in the bathroom so I can brush my teeth. Boring, antsy, I must admit I'm a little nervous about today. My schedule, for the first time in ages, is going to be really different. Plus, I'm going to have a different lunch hour. I've had the same lunch hour all four years, and now I'll be having lunch an hour later than usual. My stomach won't be pleased. It will be stubborn in changing, but honestly, it won't take but two days to do so.

Ah look, there she goes now. Guess it's time to finish getting ready. :D

Ta!

Damn.

I have school tomorrow. Start of term. Last one before I'm done. Last one.

That sounds so final, doesn't it? Yes, it does, very much. *takes deep breath, eyes go wide*

I think my jaw just dropped. I think I got all A's this semester. I think I actually did. I'm shocked, surprised, and a little guilty. Why? You wonder, I know. In Math, I sit next to two other girls who are also attempting Valedictorian, and on Friday, after class, one of them was crying. I really, really hope she can get an A in this class, or I won't talk about my grades one more time until the very end. At least to her, or around her. God. That's awful, isn't it? One class, one semester, to ruin all your hopes and all you've worked for for three and a half years. Everything, destroyed. It's a terrible thing.

On the other side of this all. Um, something bright to write about . . . damn.

I need to think, I need to sleep, I have school tomorrow. I need to sleep.

Good night. :)

Yes, night. Now. *sighs* My dreams to comfort me and nothing more. But I'm still happy, I think. Maybe. I'll find out tomorrow, won't I? I will.

Yes. Good night.

So . . .

Today, I'm not so much the bouncy happy. I think you could call it calm, quiet happy. Content happy, you know?

I didn't get to bed until about a quarter to 4 this morning. That is sadly how I go.

Every day of this break, this extended weekend, I have woken up about an hour later than the day before. 11 o'clock on Saturday, 12 on Sunday, and 1 o'clock today. But that's okay. I'm not going to complain. I enjoy this, lazy and languorous waking up without hurry on a day with nothing to do but write and read and shower. I love it. It's very relaxing.

I cannot remember what I dreamt about last night, it's all very fuzzy. But I think it was a good dream, I honestly do. Something to the effect of me not being alone. That's a nice feeling. I do so hate to be alone, but that isn't something I can remedy in the immediate future. And even if I could, I doubt my mother would appreciate it much. :D

So, I really haven't felt like I've written poetry worth reading in ages. I'm trying to get back into that particular rhythm, but it's difficult. Mostly because the last time I left off writing poetry, I was in the worst of moods. Now that I feel so high, so in the clouds, I have to reevaluate that pacing, that pattern of words. I need to recalibrate my meter and rhyme, find different, newer, and (simply for the length of time it's been since I've used them) strange words to write with. I haven't had to attempt to explain this feeling in what feels like years, though I'm sure it's been only months. In all actuality, it scares me a little. Those words are unfamiliar to my mind at this time, I've not used them. I haven't measured them, weighed their worth, crawled into their syllables to find their spirit. I think it will take some effort, on my part, and some getting used to again, before I can be comfortable with them.

But I won't despair. I won't talk of that, or I will worry, and worrying is the worst thing to do.

Did I ever mention that I never, not once in all the time I dated him, mention J. in my journal? Not even once. Not in passing, not casually, not at all. Now, that's a scary thought. I'm not surprised, and yet I am. I've mentioned M. and U., I've definitely mentioned C., but never did I talk about J. And was the only one I felt like I actually got close to, he was the one I came as close physically (however little that was) and emotionally as I did. Was he really that unimportant in my life? I mean, I can remember him, those memories are engrained into my brain, my heart, but was he really not that important to me at the time? Did I care so little? Or was I afraid someone would read my journal, afraid he would read my journal? I really, sincerely hope it is the latter excuse. But I honestly don't know. I'm afraid to admit it, but what if it is the former, that he really wasn't so important? And if I admit that, it almost feels like I'm defacing him memory, like I'm . . . I can't find the word. It's like, if I admit that he didn't mean anything to me, I'm losing something of myself, and completely ruining the guy I remember everyday of my life. I'm saying he was nothing, his death meant nothing to me, he had no impression on my life and no real purpose if he didn't at least die with my love. God, did I even love him?! FUck. I need to get off this subject. It's not the right time, not the right place, and not the right frame of mind, to be thinking on it. I'll just make myself cry if I do, I know this.

It's too confusing. I don't want to think about it, I refuse to. That will definitely damper my mood. And I so very much want to cling to this mood, this euphoria, what little is left of it.

Of course, now it's not even that happy mood, it feels more contemplative. Damn. That is inconvenient. *sighs* I suppose these things never last, so ephemeral.

As my eyes begin to tear, I will leave you. This will be the end of this post, and I will go write something. Something happy, I have to. I must. *takes deep breath, tries to breathe*

A lot of Lifehouse songs today, aren't there? And those others, well, just randomly mixed in. No particular importance, really. Enjoy, if you listen to the songs I set out. I know those last ones are more of the teenage girl caliber, but oh well. Can't please everyone all the time.
"Breathing" - Lifehouse
"From where you are" - Lifehouse
"Give me your eyes" - Brandon Heath
"Hanging by a moment" - Lifehouse
"Tangled up in me" - Skye Sweetnam
"Slow Down" - Aly & Aj
"Say Okay" - Vanessa Hudgens

Here I am . . .

Wasting time and sleep again. And for no reason at all.

Just because I want to hear that song, over and again. Over and over and over again.

"Until you loved me"

I like that song. Especially at about 2:31 where he does that guitar thing, it makes me smile. Every time. I'm such a dork. I know this.

I talked with L. for a while tonight, about four and a half hours. We've figured out a username for when we post our story, and also a title for the story. *grins* I'm glad. Now that we have that over with, we can get to more important things. Like, how many times, precisely, her character should hit the guy she's supposed to like? *laughs* I know, I know.

She did get me to apply to another college tonight, though. It took a surprisingly short amount of time to do so, and I mean, really short amount of time. About ten minutes. Tops. It was scary, how easy it was to do.

I've realized, tonight, that I haven't exactly posted any entries on this blog with actual thinking in them. My posts have sort of revolved around music, haven't they? *sighs* That is an issue. I made this blog originally so that I could talk, if only through a keyboard, and only to myself. But I haven't been doing that. I haven't at all.

In my euphoria these past couple of days, I think, I've needed less words to describe my emotions, how I've been feeling. And my music has simply supplied that extra bit that I haven't had time, in all my bouncing and smiling, to write out. Huh. Inconvenient to write. Never thought that would happen.

Writing on my stories, my book and new short story with L., has stolen those words which never seemed to stop for me. I have an outlet, something I've always needed. I put so much of myself into my stories, I don't think anyone ever realizes just how much. They are me, my heart and life, my quirks and thoughts. It's almost pathetic. I don't have the best imagination, it's all supplied by my own life. But then, if that isn't what I'm supposed to be doing, where does the saying "Write what you know." come from? *sighs* Loops and twists, such a pretzel.

It's almost three o'clock. I'm very tired, and my neck hurts. My fingers will start to tingle if I type much more. I know this. I can't type for so many hours and not be repaid with numb fingers and a crooked neck.

Wait, there they go now. Tingling on me. Of course.

I suppose I should sleep, then. Sleep, now. Sleep.

I'm trying to convince myself.

. . . .

It's not working. But at least if I get off of here, I will at least have a chance at it.

So, good night. Sweet dreams and all of that. I'll try not to be so featherbrained and helium-filled bouncy-ness. It's hard when I'm feeling so great, I want to enjoy it, but I know it's difficult to follow when I'm bouncing around the room without stopping to rest on one topic long enough to think. :D

Good night. Thank you for listening. It's nice. *pats computer screen affectionately*

Lol. See? I can still be an idiot if I want to . . .

Well, I guess if you say so. . . .

Until you loved me - The Moffatts

Sorry, I couldn't resist. I just had to post this song. Don't ya just love it? I do. It's such a huggable song. Or so I say. And I can always be wrong. :D We'll just pretend for a moment that I'm right. Lol.

He he.

I didn't sleep as well last night, but that's okay. I had a very amusing conversation with C. Sometimes, the things he says, I just wish I could share it all on here. You'd love him too.

I've been writing this story for HPFF, I don't know if I mentioned. It's a partial collaboration with L., though I'm not letting her get in too much feedback. She's just good for those crazy ideas I'd never think about. I have about three chapters written, at somewhere around five pages each, and I'm loving it. People at school have read it and all declared that it's funny. *grins* Or hilarious, or priceless, or excellent, but you get the picture. Lol. Much ego-stroking going on at my school. *laughs*

Whenever one person reads it, someone else near them is always like "What's that?" and has to read it, so in my network, plenty have read it. Lol. It's a good feeling, I think. And it's always a great feeling to write something so hilarious; it puts you in a great mood. In my opinion, everyone everywhere should always write funny stuff, that way everyone would be happy. Not only do you get a good feeling from reading happy stuff, you get a good feeling from writing it too. Not that every other piece of the written word that isn't happy or funny isn't good. Lol. I'm just saying, for a good mood.

I love all kinds of work, I'm not that way, that kind of prejudiced. But anyway, I'm off topic. A lot.

Where was I? I can't remember.

One girl in my Latin class who read my story said only one thing. "She's definitely in love with Sirius." One of the characters in the story. *grins* How on earth could she tell? Lol. I don't know. I say that there is always some level of infatuation between an author and their characters. Like, I love all my guys, they're all based on the sweeties in my life. Just like all my girls are based on me, that way, no matter what, I always get the guy. Lol. Just kidding, but seriously. *laughs*

I'm in a fabulous mood. Have been since this weekend began. It's beautiful and wonderful and I'm absolutely loving it. I wonder how long it will last?

Hmm. I hope forever. I love this carefree feeling. It's the best thing in the world, next to chocolate and your favorite book. I wish this upon everyone. I could almost dance and skip around my room right now. I don't even know why I'm feeling like this. But who would question the Logic at a moment like this?

Ha! Not me.

Sweet dreams. I'll be smiling, you better be laughing, and let's all be dreaming.

:D

Be Okay - Ingrid Michaelson

I love, love, love . . .

. . . my music today.

:)


Dream Lover - Bobby Darin


Move it on over - Hank Williams
Or this rock-n-roll version: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TG5DtVWDIxg

Mmm, finally.

I went to sleep last night at 6 o'clock. I woke up only an hour or so ago. That gave me 17 hours of sleep. And this time, finally, I feel it. I feel refreshed, like I actually got some sleep. It's beautiful to feel this way.




http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2V0nKKK5cbg - The original, if this one isn't the one you know. ;) From the 80's, if you're wondering.

This is a good saturday morning song. Don't you think? I do, in any case.

I feel a silent urge, today, to do something. I cannot figure out what. Smile, or be nostalgic, or dream, or cry. I feel like I probably need to cry, but I want to smile too. I so badly want to smile.
A week or two ago, during break, I read a story in HPFF. A line from one of those stories, I forget which one, sticks with me very much.

"When you're up here killing yourself, you're also slowly killing me." My heart tears itself into pieces looking for the guy that would say that to me. They are out there, those guys, we just haven't found them yet.

I was talking to my friend L. a while back, and I told her: "Our Prince Charming is out there, we're just not allowed to find them until they've grown up. . . and gotten over themselves." They don't all start out so sweet, do they? Some, but not all.



I didn't have an altogether pleasant dream last night, but it was sort of a door closer. So, in a way, it was a good dream. I may have jumped off the roof of a building, but I was doing it from only a three-story, and I was trying to tell someone something. I had grabbed onto something and fell. I lived, make no mistake of that. But in the dream, I'm married to one guy, who only married me for what I was, what I brought to him, and not because he loved me. In the dream, I finally leave him, and the guy who actually loves me saves me. I don't explain it very well, I know. But it was a good dream, at the end. In the dream, I finally see that he doesn't love me, and I finally find the guy who does. I move on, in my mind. This has hope for in the reality, doesn't it? Well, I'll choose to see hope in this. I have to.



Well, I feel like I should do something, now. Maybe I'll write a poem, with a better light to it. A fresh light. Maybe I'll read a good book. Maybe I'll smile. Who knows?

This has to be a new day, a new beginning. The end of semester marks the end of last year, for me. A fresh start, a new beginning. I have to believe this will be better, I have to.

I hope, whoever is reading this, the same will come to you. I truly hope tomorrow comes, the light after the storm, the sun shining through the clouds. Let's follow the rainbow, because somewhere at the end, a new life awaits.

I hope you've enjoyed the music for today. I really hope you have. :) I'll leave with one final hope, even if I can't see you, whoever you are, please, I hope you'll smile.

Every thing that I keep missing...

Finals this time around are so overwhelmingly exhausting. Draining, and they never have been before. I've a new poem I wrote today, just after I finished my English final. I like it. It has no title, though. I've yet to think one up.

Untitled
My baser instincts flowed away
From everything he said today
As though the river of mine heart
Was loathe to let his feelings part
Mine eyes still follow as he goes
The flower to the sun, it shows
The midnight owl in darkness sleeps
The pale-skinned farmer sorrow reaps
No effort to the problem yields
But wasted breath and fallow fields
The king won't come when subjects stand
Thy ego held so in thy hand
A guarded gate and wall doth hold
My words from seeking warmth in cold
Such bitter fate he bid me swallow
Far from my fay tale to wallow
In the cave the banished dove
To fly in useless circles, love
Per his command, within the dark
This dying and pathetic lark.


Hm. I find this rather ironic. I'm an atheist/agnostic, but I love Christian music. Well, most of it. My artist of choice for today is Brandon Heath.

"Give me your eyes" I am absolutely in love with this song at the moment.
And "I'm not who I was" Which isn't too bad.

A line in the latter song, "I'm not who I was," caught my ear for the first time tonight. I never noticed it before. But I like it.

"I write about love and such
Maybe cause I want it so much"

But seriously, listen to "Give me your eyes." It has the best beat in it, you just can't help but want to crawl into it and feel it course through your body. Perhaps I exaggerate, but I love it nonetheless.

"Give me your eyes for just one second
Give me your eyes so I can see
Everything thing that I keep missing
Give me your love for humanity

Give me your arms for the broken-hearted
Ones that are far beyond my reach
Give me your heart for the ones forgotten
Give me your eyes so I can see."

"All those people going somewhere
Why have I never cared?"

*smiles* It's good.

"I've been there a million times
A couple of million eyes
Just moving pass me by
I swear I never thought that I was wrong
Well I want a second glance
So give me a second chance
To see the way you see the people all along"

On the bright side, I applied to a college. Yes, just one. It's an outrageously small number. One of my friends applied to at least eleven colleges, that I know of. Crazy number as well. But to be honest, I had resigned myself to only applying to a state college, which takes no effort whatsoever. So this, applying to an out-of-state, well, it's an accomplishment for me, considering how I've been feeling towards this subject (and everything) lately.

As I said in the beginning of this post, finals are really draining me this time around. Maybe because I'm already tired, because I was already at the edge of my energy to begin with, but it still just feels like too much. Today wasn't so bad, because I had study hall first thing, and a chance to study. But tomorrow, I haven't got that luxury. It's to government, then Calculus, then Latin. The latter two will kill my GPA if nothing will. Both usually have outrageous tests, the teachers expect so much more of you than you can possibly give, with so many other classes in the mix.

But I won't whine. I won't complain. I won't bother to be in the open. I've heard so many people complaining in the past days, about things that have no point to complaining about, no reason to darken the day with, that I don't wish to spill that onto your plate. No doubt like me, like every other human on this planet, you have your problems as well.

Why burden another with what they don't need to know, or already know? It kills another's spirit just as surely, just as easily, as it kills your own.

My cat has taken to the habit of climbing into my dresser drawer, and burrowing there. I now have a pile of hairy shirts. Silly creature. I suppose it's warmer in there, so it sort of makes sense. But the stubborn mule wouldn't even budge when I told him to get out. He just gave me that look, so reproachful and "I'm not doing it. No fair. You're so cruel." etc. So I had to pull the drawer all the way out, which made him hit his head. I had to scoop him out. I think he made himself heavier for just that second, because it was very hard. And if he had a headache from hitting his head, serves him right. Lol. And yes, I do realize I'm talking about a cat. Hey, they're people too. ;)

Another point of humor. I was so tired this morning, so out of it, that after I took a shower I put my underwear on inside out. Yes. That's what I said. I only realized what I'd done about eleven hours later. I couldn't stop laughing. I've never done that before, I suppose it's kind of the equivalent to wearing your shirt inside out all day and not realizing it until someone points it out, or you discover a tag where it shouldn't be.

Anyway, I hope I brightened (towards the end of this post) your day, rather than the opposite. I know that thinking on all the bad stuff doesn't help, and reading about it only reminds you, as it does me. I'm trying to be positive, at least here, right now. Yesterday, I used a song to brighten me up, and it worked all day long. It gave me that bit of energy I'm sure we all need. Listen, sing along, dance, and smile.

This isn't the original guys, but a movie version, as the video says. But the song sounds exactly the same, and here the video is clearer, and the actions are the same as the general routine for them. :D Now I've got you wondering what the heck I'm talking about, click play. You'll appreciate it. Or rather, I will.

Gad, I am so tired. So very, very tired. And yet I cannot seem to force myself into bed before 11 o'clock.

Today, tomorrow, yesterday.

I'm tired of being alone.

This year is an endless expanse that stretches before me.

It stretches before me in chaos, everything is falling apart before my eyes.

Alone.

Who could have followed that word to its end? Who could have swallowed its proportions and lived to survive?

Not I.

Alone.

It's a deadly thing, it crushes my heart, squeezes it into a shape smaller than a drop of rain, a tear, and will not let go.

If I gave up, would it leave? If I fell, would it look on, masked in indifference and shadowed pain, and do nothing at all? If I left, would the world be here, still waiting, or crumble without me?

I'm not sure if I'm brave enough to see. But I don't know if I'm strong enough to stay, either.

Where am I - in here?

I feel as though I've lost.

I've failed.

There was a lesson in my past which I missed, forgot, never followed or listened to. That is my fatal flaw, isn't it? The one thing I never learned to do, and it will kill me, or ruin me.

I can feel myself failing, even more. I am helpless to stop it.

Everyone continues telling me what I should do, advising me, persuading me this path, or that, is the better for me. The more I hear, the more I simply want to crawl into a ball, shrink within myself, and hide away from it all. I never wanted to do more than I could, and now I feel as though that is all they are asking of me, willing me to do. I can't handle it.

I still feel lost, lost to it all. I should have been gone years ago, and yet for some reason, I never left.

I can't tell if this is momentary, I can't see through this, and I don't know what to do with it, or myself. I'm huddled in the midst of a hurricane, the rain sheeting down is clouding my vision and freezing my limbs, buffeting my body until I become one with the wind. I can't tell if it's the wind and the rain in my eyes, or my own tears. The cold, the cold traps me, blinds me, chains me to this ground, this place. I cannot move forward, but I'm afraid that if I don't, I never will. I don't know how.

I am a wraith, I barely breathe, I hardly sleep, the only thing I know now are my words. The only future I see are my words. But that is a small future, it does not reach far. It does not reach far enough, and yet it feels as though it reaches to forever.

But they keep telling me, keep pushing me, where I cannot see. That cave of darkness, they want me there. For some reason they expect me to know what's in there, to be able to find the darkness and shape myself to it, they expect me to master the stone, the uneven ground, the hollow walls and dripping, dripping waters.

I will stumble, fall and never get up. That's what they do not understand. I'm not as strong as they thought I was, not as able. The fledgling bird pushed out of the tree in the dead of winter. Abandon me, they've abandoned me, and I know no way to live.

I want to scream at them, simply let me be, if you want me to know - teach me, show me how I'm supposed to do this all alone. I was never taught this kind of self-sufficiency. I will drown if I don't learn to swim, yet they've stripped me of my limbs. No walking away, no climbing out of this hole, no leaving this darkness.

Ahh!!!

Where did I disappear to?!

The answer: Finals. I disappeared underneath the great mound of homework every teacher of mine is piling on before finals, to ensure we've got as much useless, unremarkable information stuffed into our heads as is teacher-ly (Make note: I do not say "humanly") possible. I've had three, cumulative, literary terms vocabulary tests this week in English. Our final is going to be over 75 words, and not easy ones, the nice complicated ones. A presentation for Physics, about six assignments in Calculus (which I don't understand in the least), more translation of the Aeneid in Latin, and probably more I'm forgetting. *gives huge, gusting sigh*

On the bright side, my powerpoint for Physics is brilliant, to say the least. *smiles proudly*

Yet I'm tired of sitting at a computer, it's hurting my neck in excruciating ways. :D My fault, I know.

I won't even begin to attempt to describe to you this time exactly how irresponsible, and immature, and selfish, and very 13 year old-ish, my mom is being at the moment, it will simply make me too angry. Let me simply say it involves a man she has chatted with online for less than two weeks, lives in California, is unemployed, and is now staying at our house (per her invitation) for the next four days, all with the intent of "getting to know each other." She's putting my sister and I at risk by allowing a complete stranger into our home, she's spending money on food we can't afford simply to impress him, and she's taking three days off of work to entertain him, though we can't afford that either. I think this is the first time in two years in which I've had so much good food in the house to eat (as in fruit and jam). *clenches jaw* It's ridiculous that the only people she cares to spend money on are her "boyfriends," and not her daughter. The only person she cares or thinks about is herself.

I'm sick of it.

Oh, and I have to do all of my college apps this weekend. I don't want to, as most of the colleges I wanted to apply to have passed their deadlines (because I was intent on giving up that particular venture altogether and simply going to a state school, until my stepdad forcibly convinced me otherwise (over the phone, don't worry)) and it is quite simply petrifying to think of doing all of this on my own (because guaranteed, that's how it is, and will, be).

On the bright side, I made my grandmother's recipe, the mystery bars, and they were absolutely divine. Literally. They're better than the brownies, and I didn't even make this batch particularly perfectly either. Everyone at school simply devoured them (myself included, lol).

On the bright side, I'm reading an excellent and extremely fascinating Fantasy series called the 'Riddle Master' trilogy by Patricia A. McKillip. I'm loving it, though I don't normally delve into the fantasy genre.

Do you think it would be feasible to drop my AP Calculus class next semester? Or simply: insane. If it will drop my GPA, as it's going to this semester, thus rendering me ineligible for Valedictorian, what's the point in taking it? I see none, I do not require it to graduate, and most schools really only want 3 years of Math, after all. Huh. My counselor probably won't let me drop it though. Damn. I don't like this, not at all.