i also, shall talk of mr. darcy.

i think he's the type of guy who is an a-hole until you get to know him. because some people are just like that.
the end!!!

to do:

1. apply for a music scholarship
2. work at bargain books
3. get voice lessons for said scholarship
4. sing at miss rozeboom's wedding

sorry that was kind of for me. haha.

4/5

Mom: "Guess what the best part of going away is?"
Me: "What?"
Mom: "Coming home."
Me: "Ha ha. Word."

Mom wins the eloquence award on this one.

That's not all i have to say about my time away... really. I had some good deep talks with my sister, a few laughs with my brother, and perhaps more of an understanding for my dad and his family.

A frustration with sitting.
And aunts i never see.
And the cousins i don't really have a chance to know.
And a new-found ability of bowling. 5 strikes baby. Cause that's cool...

yeah.

how is it fair that someone has that control? to take your heart and make it jump, or just break it in pieces. we trust. sometimes it works, other times, not. and we watch each other crumble, as we gather the pieces and try to mash them together again. gingerly, we hand our hearts to others... each time, gambling with everything that we are. why do we do that? and how can we be so insensitive with each other's hearts, knowing full well what it is like to be broken.
new years resolution: have some respect for other people's feelings. because we get hurt, and
so
do
they.

take your money.

i like the word eclectic.
a little bit of everything
and anything,
all put into a jar.
maybe me.
like hundreds of coins
waiting to be dollars,
in a tin from my favorite place.
making a jingle every time i need a quarter, or a nickel...
perhaps a dime. but shh!
don't make a sound...
heaven forbid there be a ring
that someone else cannot have.
or lost,
which only adds to the appeal.
so i will remain
silent
for only a few months more.
then i leave
with all my quarters and secrets
that i have chosen not to share
with people
like you.

*note of irony: as i was about to title this post, paper planes by MIA came on. coincidence?? i think not.*

people, not things.

the week has ended. now things will start to be better, and i can begin to be. maybe it is a two week curse... this thursday will be pretty bad. there are some people who make it better. close friends... something more. thank God for that.
i just hope that although i have been a neglectful child that he will bless my new beginnings and perhaps some happy endings. i just got a reeeeeally fruity image of a rainbow. haha.
sometimes i am serious, sometimes i am not. in between, i'm usually tuned out. lost in thought.. worrying about something i want, or want to fix. dah. it is tiring, this whole human thing.

hate it, love it.

this is yet another one of those times where i want to make an ultimatum, and say something that really means a lot, but i can't. because i know that i will change my mind tomorrow. or in two minutes.

cruel world, funny world.

this made me laugh out loud.... no joke.

http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/1IoSUv/9gag.com/gag/14159/

i am a cruel person. but this is what the world is like for too many wonderful boys and girls... i laugh at truth? or do i recognize this cartoon in myself? hmm. it's still funny.

they get it more than i do.

i just really like the music from up. and i have been spreading it around. it's just so good.
that and other songs on repeat in my life:

"Married Life" from Up.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=93jxkqG0gWc&NR=1

"Oh, Darling" by The Beatles
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z_RCNGgL9V4

"Here Comes The Sun" by The Beatles
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U6tV11acSRk

"The Call" by Regina Spektor
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G7uoC-YTQy8

apathy, my friends...

right now, i feel like someone is sitting on me; i'm too tired to push them off. strangely, i'd rather be suffocated than put forth a little effort to shove, or even roll over.

tall.

i hate how i have to talk about things to feel better about them. sometimes things are just better kept on the inside...

it's more than girl talk.

so often i am tempted to be honest, but i am silenced by the fear of cruelty, or the worry of losing pride. all i want is to say what i mean, and come clean to the world--but it is never only about me. all my secrets and feelings concern so many other people, that they are not really my secrets to tell. so i smile silently, and surround myself with a few people that i can trust. because a secret means little to me unless i can cry or laugh with someone else.

sharing.

like in kindergarten.

longest post ever!!!

okay, this sounds dumb, but i feel older.
it's something like the holidays aren't special anymore, and stuff that used to be so fun just doesn't get my heart rate going anymore. and being tired, and never really understanding because every question that i am going to have from now on isn't going to be "yes" or "no" in two seconds.
and wonderful rambling-on sentences because that's kind of how my mind thinks.

ah ha.

and then i realize that i change everyday, if not on the outside, than the in. i never really know what i am thinking, and i am not as eloquent as elle, or as thoughtful as kat, or as open as belle to say something about me just running in circles wondering if i was supposed to stop a while ago or just keep on chugging because what the hell? maybe i'll trip and i'll see myself in a puddle.

you know, that "a ha!" moment of really getting something for like one second. instead, it is just me, wishing i wasn't committed, wanting to sleep. because my dreams don't make sense, but at least i know that's okay.

and you're probably reading this (or maybe you're not... hmm. that's embarassing. how do you spell embarassing anyways? emberassing. emberessing. i give up.) and just thinking where the heck is she going with this??? and i have an answer for you. i don't know. but writing is a release, so here's me writing down a few of my run on sentence thoughts. and if they make sense to you, lemme know. because right now, i just want to see a puddle with my face and have an "a ha!!!!!" moment, EVEN if it means getting my new pretty boots wet.

i know. it's that big of a deal.

common sense is saying, "hey you! stop typing. it's kind of like you're digging a giant hole filled with NO ONE CARES" but I think i will keep going. because maybe someone fascinated with how the mind works will take a mo to read this pretty much un-filtered post.

i remember once my dad went to the emergency room and i was sitting at a window and just crying because i was confused, and then i went downstairs to watch gilmore girls, because i was kind of jealous of these girls who's biggest issue was if jess would stop being such a bad-ass. it was kind of nice losing myself in the land of fast talking and coffee at luke's and oh em gee logan is SO HOTT. because there's nothing simpler than a script. they tell you what to do even when you're not talking for goodness sake. maybe that's why i like acting. i dunno.

i sort of find comfort in the mystery of a person's depth and memory. like that excuses having personality confusion... it's kind of nice.

i hate that commercial before movies for pepsi max, that one part where the guy drops a bowling ball on the back of some guy's head. my dad has a scar there.

i like saying stuff that i know is true about myself out loud. strange security.

i wanted my birthday to be over on tuesday... don't ask me why.

this is a really long post. i wonder if anyone will finish it.

i want to test you by saying something like "if you read this whole post, clap twice!!!" like they do in kindergarten. except i'm probably not sitting by you, slash anywhere near you. so it would just be dumb.

hey but if you did clap, that's pretty cool.

where was i going with this? i don't remember.

i'm gonna stop.

...

now.

high school.

have you ever noticed that something that is only supposed to be between two people involves everyone?

yes... i cried.

it's just that it was goodbye to something so much more...

this is the last time, i will say these words. i remember the first time..

this is the last time.
it's only my second... but it will still be sad anyways.
i invest too much of my life into this it's hard to just brush it off once it's done.
so let this be the last, the best, the most memorable, and the most fun--all while getting it done.

ode to panic.

i wanted a new perspective on life, so i sat down in my shower.
my hair took much too long to dry, for it was thick with water.
but i enjoyed the simplicity of silently sitting as water warmed my skin.
el fin.

dual/duel.

half logic, half of something else. all i want is a two step plan, but biology forbids me from following and finding. i say what i love, and i hate it in moments. some things i say, and even more i do not follow. i am a failure at following in this way, but i succeed in at least recognizing. recognize... a word that means quite a bit to me. for the people that love can recognize, and realize. find and follow. recognize and realize. perhaps it is with an s. but don't ask me... in the elite i am merely at the bottom, but above the deepest waters. i am broken, and so was he. but we had a perfect moment... together we made something that neither will forget, unless memory so chooses to strip us of even our one perfect moment. we followed, we found. we recognized, and we realized. and all i want is a two step plan... but somehow life forbids it. but a perfect moment... that seems simple enough. to go on with my life, to discover what i cannot, and will not, but i should, but i can't, and so the endless volley between one half of my brain and the other battles. a blessing and a curse. half logic, and half of something else.

and this is not one thing in my life. it is the all. it is life pushing me around because i always forget that control is a word that i will never truly understand.

get it done.

i just do stuff occasionally, and i don't know why, and i don't have an explanation, and i don't always know what to say, and i wish i were better, and i wish i could keep everyone happy, but i can't, so i just put on my stuff, figure my own stuff out, keep a level head, never miss a cue, never miss a homework assignment, and never miss an opportunity to piss someone off without meaning it. and i live my life okay.



and yet there's always someone that's not happy.
and it makes me mad.

black and white and gray and stuff.

Sometimes I find it hard to find the fine line that rests between "wrong" and "right". Want to know a secret? Sometimes, i don't even think it exists.

rubber guitar, unfinshed in the basement.

Somehow, running towards a corner and getting absolutely nowhere doesn't justify why things happen. It is a wonderful distraction, but it doesn't make things like our bodies failing right. And the constant chord that plays in the background of my life is justice, and it always sounds a little funny. I don't know if you hear, but it is dissonance against the chord of reality, which also never ceases to play... right into my ear.
Can it resolve?

yo quiero universidad.

that means i want college.

all i want to do.

this is what i want to do.
i want to bottle my anger into glass, and seal it with a cork.
then, i want to throw it into lake michigan. more preferably the ocean. because then i wouldn't have to see it again.
i wish i wasn't angry.
i wish i didn't care.
i wish i could be okay with people using me
abusing me
betraying me.
but i'm not.
so that is what i want to do.
but as i hold the bottle in my left hand,
i realize that i cannot.
so i take out the anger and clothe myself with it.
letting it cover who i really am.
because i cannot let go of my hurt and frustration.
i would rather dwell with it, until in my head, it becomes justice.
which it won't.
so here i am. and as i hold this glass and gaze into the memory, i put it into my nightstand drawer.
because that's where i keep things.

i feel for wonder, wandering far alone.

Mixing colors in my chest
first to green and then to blue.
A tight feeling
but breath makes the pressure
that much better.

My life has distracted me
from what it really means
to live.

And as I page
through each worn thought
I feel my ratty clothes
and patchy gloves.

Are my fingernails
that short?
That choppy?

My skin that dry?
That scaly?

Memory has convinced me
of the tattered truth
that is me.

all the shades of grey.

I pride myself in the imperfection of it all. How nothing really is... the piece that wouldn't fit. But I figure that at least means an interesting life, a different life. The one who didn't make it to the end of the carpet, and stumbles when "they" see. But it is fine. It is me.
Sometimes answers of black and white don't cut it for me, and I truly believe that nothing is simple. There are wires behind the screen and veins under our skin... memories inside the brain.
So what is perfect?
Not you, not me.

and you don't know what you have, till it's gone.

i can't stand it. i just can't. when i see two athletes bash their heads together, taking advantage of perfectly healthy heads. they're just screwing themselves over, setting themselves up for disaster. just because we don't know what we have until it's gone. but this is life. we can't understand pain unless we suffer. we can't understand memory unless if we forget. they're just so healthy... and they're throwing it away. i don't understand.

i can always fail high school...

Whenever I know that it's the last of something I'll do, I make an excuse that I can always do it again if I really miss it. Like musical. If I really want to, I can do it in college. Dances. I can always organize something. Clash day? Adults do that too, right? No. They don't. I keep on making excuses and I'm pretty much believing all of it right now. But come graduation, I will have to stop. It's not high school I'm going to be missing--it's saying goodbye to so many thing I know. So we'll see. I can always fail high school.

if life were like the puzzle place...

we are puzzle pieces.
when the box is first opened, we are all together.
every piece is there, none are scratched or lost.
beautiful pieces of manufactured bliss.
then life decides to take us out of our sweet cardboard home,
throw us on a table,
and move us around.
some people you trust with those pieces, and they damage them.
bending them at the edges, so they will never quite fit again.
or they lose them,
somewhere on the hardwood floor.
not quite as soft as cardboard.
and sometimes we just can't reassemble ourselves,
and it's not fair,
and why can't someone else do it for us?
why was this box ever opened.
all of us
have lost some pieces
and can't find them again
so there is a hole
when we come together.
where is my cardboard box?

swiss cheese life??

It feels like there's something missing. Some things just don't get my heart rate up anymore... and my life is not dull. It is not bad. There is simply a hole somewhere... and I just can't find something to fill it.
It also hit me the other day in between fits of sleep that this is the last. There will be no musical next year. There is only this year and then I am an adult. Right now I am sixteen. How is this happening? Next year I am on my own. Living the life I've dreamed about for who knows how long. But this is what I miss, and what I can't stand.
Maybe life starting will fill the hole. Or maybe it will disappear.

pm freeeeekin s.

i am eating peanut butter m& m's because my hormones tell me to.

meet Confidence, my fickle friend.

Confidence... is a funny thing. it comes and goes as it pleases... knocking on your door when you happen to be somebody and leaving the second you gain a pound. you round the corner after a well deserved break only to find a mirror kindly reporting your bad hair day. liars say confidence isn't like this... but maybe they are the ones who's confidence never pays a visit to tell them they're beautiful, or that they don't need that to be perfect, or that they don't need to be perfect at all. confidence occasionally lifts my chin with a firm hand and meets me with it's sunny eyes. and sometimes i can greet them back. but sometimes sunny eyes just aren't enough.. or my eyes can only see the shadows the light casts across my face. but for now, i am fine. i wouldn't say i have issues, but as i said, confidence is a fickle friend. great when it's there, don't get me wrong. but sometimes my shadow is too long.

word chain.

deliverance.
strength.
macho man.
sweaty.
gym.
not fit.
work out.
when is this done?
done.
rest.
deliverance.

apaloosa.

today during fifth hour i made a fool of myself. and not for a second did i feel judged. that is friendship : )

O 10

here it goes, here it goes again.

for the

last

time.

: (

but i am okay

for the moment being

until i realize

that we are leaving.

the chips are falling where they may.

the chips are falling where they may and they are falling in the right places.

senior pictures: check.
license: check.
SLAP reductions: almost check.
books: almost check.

yay chips! i imagine them as barbecue flavored... because they are delicious.

fml.

i only say that as a joke, because of stuff like this:

Every year 15 million children die of hunger.

Every 3.6 seconds someone dies of hunger.

Worldwide, an estimated 1.6 million people lost their lives to violence in 2000.

About half were suicides, one-third were homicides, and one-fifth were casualties of

armed conflict.

More than 25 million people have died of AIDS since 1981.

Africa has 11.6 million AIDS orphans.

so thank God for my life.

dumb due dates.

here's a lesson for summer:
deadlines don't work during the summer.

can i hear an amen?!

amen.

oh germany, dear germany.

We whispered words, tasting them silently on our tongues like stolen cookies from a jar. Not words that mean little to you or I, but names. Names of places where our cameras had flashed and our breathing had been long and deep, hoping to take something with us other than in our luggage. We stretched vowels in between teeth as our taste buds tingled with flipped and rolled consonants--our eyes growing wide to the secret and silent wonder that was simply words. But more importantly than places, we whispered people. People that meant more to us than our limited senses, for they were there today, cradling our innocence as we carried them in our mouths--silently. Tomorrow they would be gone, with nothing but a picture or an eyelash mistakenly fallen onto our clothes for us to remember, but their names we carried with us--silently, on our tongues.

forget me not,

Something like anticipation for a world that I know nothing about... except for the pictures that have passed over my eyes like hands petting an old cat. It snuck up on me. And now hear it is: Germany. I expect nothing. I fear nothing. I know nothing. So let these two weeks fly by in a thrilling sort of way. If speed is what you assume links itself with the word "fly," let time sneak up on me... if fate wishes it to happen that way. Help me not to forget. Forget me not.

lovey-dovey gross-ness.

eewwww. if i ever become one of those people who are either:

a) touchy-feely with my boyfriend in public
or
b) talk in such a way that could make a romance novelist puke (ie: "you hang up!" "noooo... YOU hang up! hee hee hee hee hee hee frickin HAW!"
or
c) that girl. and we all know her: "what should we talk about? how about we talk about when so and so brought me this and it was SO CUTE like ehmagawsh." (i may have done c. for that i apologize.)

you may shoot me. or slap me across the face and say "WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU WOMAN?!" either one. i will probably get the point.

but really. couples can be so cute... and grazing over your boyfriend's/girlfriend's butt in public will not now, or ever, make me say "awww". it's the little things, people. the little things.

and why would you write on your boyfriends facebook wall? why? because he's probably just a phone call away from rushing over to you in a mix of adrenaline and testosterone.

really?

lesson learned: do not be that girl. or the consequences won't be very pretty... he he he...

a collection of little poems.

you little red ladder.
Rungs on this ladder have been climbed before.
I have, I believe... but no more.
Your fresh, red paint doesn't make you more appealing.
It doesn't give you better grip or more feeling.
Glossy paint makes you slippery...
only easier for those at the top.
So I simply
dropped.

probability.
Probability. 3 in four green jellybeans.
1 in four suicidal teens.
Way too many health related dreams,
Even more ripped at the seams.
So throw your water balloon into the sky,
And take a guess if it will fly,
Or be blue, or if the inevitable will come true.

sitting in the tub. (an attempt at imagism)
In the bubbling tub sat one who had the brain of a child, one who acted like a child, and one who was a child.

the blanket poem. (an attempt at free verse.)
Under my blanket,
in my own world
of stale air
and soft linen,
I am
the smartest,
prettiest,
wisest.
Nothing
is higher than my
frizzy hair,
except for the blanket
surrounding my kingdom.
All hail.

pardon my angsty teen moment.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Panic
At
The
Disco
split
up.


Possibly my favorite band. Just because their second album was really good, and they're good looking, and funny... and they had personality and spirit for life.

And they split up, damn it!!

And I never got to see them live.

Which was my dream.

ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST! Looks like it's time to play their first album in remembrance.

Some fans were crying and expressing their laments on youtube and such. This i found ridiculous, but the fact remains that a very good group has split. And it feels dumb to listen to their music.

That was my album of the summer. Just yesterday i was raving about them.

2 people went a pop way, 2 of them went in a more classic rock way. The name remains with the ones who stayed pop. But i like the 2 who left more.

Aaaaaaaand no one cares. Haha. Sorry. But i had to express my deep, teen-riffic grief. So there it is. Tear.

the rush.

no. not that type of rush. not like riding a motercycle (CHECK), or watching transformers two (CHECK. emberassing?). it's that rush of emotion when you're listening to music and daydreaming as you pass thousands of trees and leave tire tracks across canada and america. the rush of remembering something that's only special to you and a few others, and smiling to yourself and wishing they were there... but not in a depressed way. just in a satisfied sigh sort of way, because you know you'll see them again someday. maybe not tomorrow, or the day after that, but sometime. soon. after you see more trees, and waste more battery on your ipod. so as i drive along, sitting still in my seat, i experience a rush that doesn't need deisel or falling from trees or planes, or whatever is there. just sucking in air... and missing something that's not too far away. just a few thousand miles or so.

are there people chargers?

I can't fall asleep anymore.

My phone is dead.

I lost my charger.

Tomorrow my family and I embark on a journey that will take us 5,000 miles.

In the same little car.

Basically, my patience = ZERO.



Sorry. This is really whiney. The trip is going to be fun... I'm just scared that I'll be tempted to jump off a cliff at Jasper national park (Canadian) as I see family I don't really know on a trip that's really long. Three weeks, people. Three weeks.

Bah. Goodbye, blogland. Goodbye, America. Goodbye, friends.

we are taught to think that light means the morning.

As I lay in bed, awake and alone, I look at the people who cannot see and hope that someone is praying for me. But I can't see past the grid-square screen--pixels capturing a streetlight a few houses away. Bitter and condensed, I realize for the fiftieth time that I am nothing special--contradicting adoration from all of my house-wide fans.
So I watch those who are. Those who cannot see, and those who's confusions are rewarded with bracelets and empty applause.
My pen is poised like a spear in my quitting and lying hand, challenging those who doubt me. Like myself. Little does my pen know, the paper does not count as a shield.
But my pen keeps on stabbing at those who run in circles in a great big nowhere--yet the golden tip of my ballpoint pen cannot pop their lofty ideas and anchor-less prayers.

A
stab,
stab,
stab in the dark.

a dramtic teenager's experience with injustice.

grades = stupid teachers--that thank God--I will never have again.

injustice.

i can barely write words to describe my frustration.

ALL BECAUSE YOU CANNOT TEACH.

you cannot imagine the ugly, ugly words going through my head, that want to be written on this screen as a testimony to the injustice. injustice. injustice.

here is something i wrote as i suffered through that joke of a class:

"I am not a gifted writer. My vocabulary is not extensive, and when I try to describe things using words like "cotton-balls" and "sugar", I erase the hopeless scribbles in shame. So I am left with only creative arrangements of simple words that phase no one and leave impressions like footprints in dried concrete. So my pencil wears on through rough paper, begging me to stop..."

I received a B+ in creative writing. Because rubrics are apparently a challenge to make understandable, and I am not a kiss-ass.

injustice. injustice. injustice.

haha... it's funny.

HOW TO TICK PEOPLE OFF

1. Leave the copy machine set to reduce 200%, extra dark, 17 inch paper, 99 copies.
2. In the memo field of all your checks, write "for sexual favors."
3. Specify that your drive-through order is "TO-GO."
4. If you have a glass eye, tap on it occasionally with your pen while talking to others.
5. Stomp on little plastic ketchup packets.
6. Insist on keeping your car windshield wipers running in all weather conditions "to keep them tuned up."
7. Reply to everything someone says with "that's what you think."
8. Practice making fax and modem noises.
9. Highlight irrelevant information in scientific papers and "cc" them to your boss.
10. Make beeping noises when a large person backs up.
11. Finish all your sentences with the words "in accordance with prophesy."
12. Signal that a conversation is over by clamping your hands over your ears and grimacing.
13. Disassemble your pen and "accidentally" flip the ink cartridge across the room.
14. Holler random numbers while someone is counting.
15. Adjust the tint on your TV so that all the people are green, and insist to others that you "like it that way."
16. Staple pages in the middle of the page.
17. Publicly investigate just how slowly you can make a croaking noise.
18. Honk and wave to strangers.
19. Decline to be seated at a restaurant, and simply eat their complimentary mints at the cash register.
20. TYPE IN UPPERCASE.
21. type only in lowercase.
22. dont use any punctuation either
23. Buy a large quantity of orange traffic cones and reroute whole streets.
24. Repeat the following conversation a dozen times.
    "DO YOU HEAR THAT?"
    "What?"
    "Never mind, it's gone now."
25. As much as possible, skip rather than walk.
26. Try playing the William Tell Overture by tapping on the bottom of your chin. When nearly done, announce "No, wait, I messed it up," and repeat.
27. Ask people what gender they are.
28. While making presentations, occasionally bob your head like a parakeet.
29. Sit in your front yard pointing a hair dryer at passing cars to see if they slow down.
30. Sing along at the opera.
31. Go to a poetry recital and ask why each poem doesn't rhyme.
32. Ask your co-workers mysterious questions and then scribble their answers in a notebook. Mutter something about "psychological profiles."

the clock that went backwards? it drowned.

Yesterday night i watched the curious case of benjamin button, and it forced me to think about one of my least favorite subjects--time.
I suppose a more optimistic view of time would be years on earth--allotted to us by God--to learn, experience, and grow.
But whenever I really think about time (not life), I always think about goodbyes.
Goodbye to things like running around naked and eating play dough.
A backpack filled with only a few papers and lisa frank pencils.
Innocent childhood love.
Goodbye to puberty and cooties.
Goodbye to first kisses, first dates.
First loves. Real love.
But I suppose the most heartbreaking of all--goodbye to those that we fell in love with.
Once when I was a kid, as I was falling asleep, it finally struck me that one day, my parents would not be with me. They wouldn't be around the corner, in the other room. Not even on another street, or in a different country. Just... not here.
I ran downstairs, crying to my mom.
And she started to laugh.
She looked at me endearingly, and with a sad sort of twinkle in her eye she said that "one day, you won't need me and dad anymore."
This did not really solve any of my qualms about the subject, but mom sent me off to bed anyways because it was time to sleep.

But I need her now. I cannot imagine living without her, now. So, at this present moment in time, I need my mom. I need my dad. I need my sister. I need my brother. And I need time to sort through the things that need thinking with the time allotted to me by God.

Repression.

The clock has not frozen, but I concentrate on the hands where they are... not where they will be in an hour.


"The supreme irony of life is that hardly anyone gets out alive."
--Robert Heinlein

more "fun fo free: a series."

I went biking today.

I rode my bike up to 19 miles per hour.

It was fun.

Yay biking!

fun fo free: a series.

I rearranged my room.

It's weird.

I like it.

roses smell like summer.

Summer is a giant breath in between long stretches of endless work. So I sip in a gallon full of summer air through my nostrils. It's hard to describe the smell of summer... I want to say it smells like strawberries, freshly mowed lawns and ice cream. Notice how all of these are food. Shows you what I do in my spare time. But anyways, I have noticed that I don't really have a smell for winter because I feel like I am holding my breath, waiting for spring, which smells like rain-filled air, sweet dirt and pollen. By summer, I am greedily stashing the smell in my lungs until nature forces it out of me and I reluctantly exhale. I smell whenever I can because I have the time to "smell the roses." Fall smells like leaves (duh) and jackets with zippers... and yes they do have a smell. But nothing smells as good as the scent of summer, because it means free time, relaxation, going outside without worries for a jacket or mittens, and the hope for a better fall. So smell the roses, because you can : )

"beautiful".

it's a sad day when you type in the word "beautiful" into google images and are scarred by pictures of size two women with ginormous boobs.

the world is an unfair place.

i would have to weigh 250 pounds to have those knockers.

and that is the expectation.

so girls--we are all as ugly as hell.

well i've already looked at facebook...

bahahahahahahahaha. exams... i am such a procrastinator. there is nothing else to say.

a small and silly symbol.

my phone's battery is constantly dying even if i charge it. i am my phone.

dwindling.

I'm sorry I've lost my ability to please. I'm sorry I've given up. I'm sorry I'm never home. I'm sorry that I'm just not good enough. I'm sorry that they kept us down. I'm sorry that I'm fed up. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

upon a star

i wish i wish i wish
maybe spoken 100 times
the wish will
turn itself around
and become
my reality
my sanity
my vanity

if music be the food of love.

So beautiful, yet seemingly cliche to the average critic. So poignant, yet non-comprehendable for those who have never felt what this feels like. Soft sugar and butter running down my throat and filling my heart as it explodes with a sweet melody... although it does not match the so-so thoughts running through my head. And so I realize that the words I am singing are bigger than you and I combined... because it is the feeling we share that brings us together and makes something more.

If music be the food of love,
sing on till I am fill'd with joy;
for then my list'ning soul you move
with pleasures that can never cloy,
your eyes, your mien, your tongue declare
that you are music ev'rywhere.

Pleasures invade both eye and ear,
so fierce the transports are, they wound,
and all my senses feasted are,
tho' yet the treat is only sound.
Sure I must perish by our charms,
unless you save me in your arms.

time goes by, so slowly slowly. time goes by, so slowly slowly.

And the same hopeless banter goes on and on, running over my empty corpse with a truck of iron and molding my brain into what it should look like. Wanting it to end, but scared of what is to come next, I wait and linger, not beckoning time to go forward, but not setting the clock in reverse. Just sitting, staring, counting the individual ticks that make a splinter in my forehead everytime the resonating sound clicks on through my being. Fearing what it is to come, and running from what lies behind me. And so I sit in this twisted equilibrium of never knowing forward and reverse... just ticking.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.

watercolors.

whenever I feel above of all the shallow chatter and gossip that surrounds the teenage life, I am usually pms-y. this disturbs me. a lot. it's always when estrogen is dominating my every thought and movement that i draw away from a crowd, craving a book like "blue like jazz" or to talk about my dad. because i want there to be more than looking at pictures in a year book, and more than griping about not having a boyfriend. but the rest of the month... i am okay with shallow. i am okay with seeing through people... and i like to think that people can see through me. but they don't, and i can't see through anyone else... so why in the world do we act like people can see through us like a glass of water? why do we gossip? why do we shop every weekend? why do we spend so much time on myspace looking up sweeto bands to seem cooler to our "friends"? this does not in any way mean be mysterious and wear black and never talk about what you did over the weekend or boys or whatever... because that's life too. but how can we call oursevles individuals in Christ if all we ever do is partake in meaningless chatter that will never fill us? and why do i only realize these things now? its not that i don't care about being shallow the rest of the month... its just that i don't realize it until i take a step back from the crowd and look at the big picture. and i see watercolors. thin, pale tones that can cover the other with a single stroke. because they only last so long, and they only cover so much. and it's emberassing. so i challenge myself and the rest of you who read this to step up and be bold colors that fill a canvas and make up the beautiful picture that is God's creation. to fill ourselves with things that matter... so we can fill others around us.

How should I put this? Hm. Well, forensics has sucked out my soul and now I am done with everything because forensics is done. So I don't try with anything else. I am pathetic. I am about as useful as a wet blanket... and it scares me. What colleges will want me now??? Oh yeah. Calvin. There's always Calvin... and I am about the luckiest person in the world because I can say something like that.

There's always Calvin, when my hope fails.
When all is lost, and it's hard waking up.
Cause the ACT sucks, my algebra grade blows,
and if motivation was graded I'd have a D.
Plus.
Maybe.
So burgundy and gold will be my warm sweater,
when life is tough and it just won't get better. (mellodramatic... but could I really turn down "sweater" and "better"? No. And you couldn't either.)

and so it is.

Not too much to say, fellow blog-landers.
But I felt bad for not posting anything in a while.
So here is the most boring blog post EVER.



EVER.



I'll write something when I have something to say.

just a little reflection.

Interesting things I have learned about myself in the past year or so:

1. I am my toughest critic.

2. I always root for the underdog.

3. I repress my emotions more than I like to believe.

4. I work harder than I am "smart".

5. My eyes are two different colors.

6. I regret things more than I miss things.

7. I hate it when people do something and no one laughs... so I usually do.

8. When I finish saying something, I purse my lips.

It's hard to put your personality into words, but these are a few things that I can honestly say are true about myself. Most of them I have heard from other people... but I didn't put them down unless I really value or trust that source. Or they are something I notice about myself. Either way... this is part of me, put down in words. If that's even possible.

i never believed in santa.

i don't like my new design too much... but i was getting sick of having to look at orlando bloom and not being able to have him. haha. (bitter laughter)

here's something to think about:
it always kind of makes me laugh bitterly some more when i think about how dreams seem so attainable in our minds, but then are SO impossible once we put them into action. an example, for instance: wow! i want to be a singer. i think i will! hey, mom! what do you think about me being a singer? ... the unfortunate parent then attempts to point out to their gleeful child the lack of realistic thinking in their dream, and the child leaves the room feeling like a deflated balloon. sad? yes. realistic? yes. but even i (and i'm not much of a dreamer) have my moments. they usually come late at night. often its these awesome lyrics with a melody so perfect i'm fighting the urge not to sing it aloud and wake up my family. in the morning when i wake up, the song is no longer a work of brilliance but another rock-pop mutation that sounds a little too much like kelly clarkson. and this is life. and it's fine, really... because it keeps us grounded. keeps us here. where we belong.

this sounds so depressing... but really, its not. it's life. and i'm fine with it.

the pretty pony fiasco.

I never used to like asking God for things. All I could ever think of was some five year old girl begging God for a pony... and I refused to be like that. But the fact of the matter is, sometimes, we want things, and God WILL give them to us. Not always, and maybe not exactly, but He always opens doors. So I'm praying for a job. For motivation. For people. And God will answer... eventually.

he knows me.

So I accomplished my goal. I'm so thankful for what I have... but most of all, my family. The theme for our week was "Living Inside Out"... and I realized that I have some issues with that. To be totally honest, I don't know who I am. I know what I believe, I know what I feel... but when it comes to putting words to my personality, I am at a loss. Because I can say one thing, and someone will say something contradictory. It's crazy. I wish I knew... but I don't know if I will. Back to being thankful for my family, it's because they know who I am, and love me despite everything. Everything. And they support me when others don't, an love me when others don't care. It's so AMAZING, and I'm so thankful to God. He has blessed me in so many ways... and I have only just begun to understand half of that.
This week, I have also learned that I am screwed up. I have some issues with things in my past. Some of these things are easy to talk about, like mean "friends" and self esteem issues, but some of them go so deep I can't even begin to explain them. And because of my broken inside, I know that I need more than a band aid. I need a God who loves me and understands me and knows me. He actually knows who I am, and what I'm going to say in a certain situation, and He knows which movies I'll cry in. He knows I need love when others can't provide, and He knows how I can serve him.
So here I am, waiting for the signs of when I can act next. Because now I'm ready, and now I'm aware of the love he has for me, and what others are missing when they don't know that love.

goodbye, home. hello, world.

So tomorrow i'll be in Texas, with the feeling of the sun's warmth on my face, the taste of deep fried food in my mouth, and the smell of sunblock evaporating off of my skin.
And I'm happy. Because I'll be away from here--not because I hate it, but because I don't want to hate it. Because sometimes, we get sick of the things we should be grateful for.
So I'm ready to go serve and see things that will make me grateful, and I'm ready for my first plane ride, and I'm ready for a week away from my parents and my small comfort zone of school friends.

Goodbye, home. Hello, world.

hey there.

hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah

i'm sorry.

i had to.

just so you know.

So.
Shit happens. And what do I do when it does? Forget about it. Distract myself. Let it go, because chances are, there isn't one thing I can do about it.
So for people who dwell and sit in a hole filled with their own despair, distract yourself. Grab a shovel and take out the despair, if you want to take that metaphor WAY to far.
It seems like everyone is a little down in the dumps lately... so if you are, consider my advice... because just like you, i've been through crap.
And you can cry and cry, or you can rise up and pretend it's not there.

Probably not healthy... but it works.

twitterpatin'!

Yessiree.
It's that time of year once again, ladies and gentlemen.

Twitterpating.

Yup. That's what I said.
Don't tell me you haven't seen Bambi!!

You know, the boy skunk sees the girl skunk. They go off.
The boy rabbit sees the girl rabbit. They go off.

And then Bambi finds his "doe" and then they're off.

That's right.

Twitterpating.

*inspired by a lovely talk on a saturday night. and then a similar conversation at youth group the following night. ironic.*

construction zoooone!

i like designing blogs.
like colors and pictures.
so as much as i like mine right now, i think i may change it... hmm.

help! i fell in a ditch.

Sometimes I just don't feel good enough.
Pretty enough.
Smart enough.
Talented enough.
Fun enough.
It's a terrible feeling... and often I don't know if I finally see myself for what I really am, or if I'm temporarily lacking some self esteem.
And then I don't know what to think.
And then I just want to cover my head with my blanket, and pretend that the rest of the world isn't there... because if I have nothing to compare myself to, how can I not be good enough?

This isn't me digging for compliments.

This is simply... me.

i've got a question for you...

The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him.
So I let him go,
put him down
gently.
But I didn't offer a hand back up.
Lord knows whats in store
for me
and that other Man
far away.
But I want him
now.
Yet my time has not yet
come.

corner of your heart.

When i think if i have "found myself'', I realize that I'm not really looking. The only time I really realize what I'm doing is when people are watching me... or when I notice anyways.
And I know people don't always like what they see. I'm too loud. Or I don't care about them. Or whatever they feel they need to say about me.
But I can't always be what other people need to see. If you don't like what you see, have the courage to look in a mirror and fix yourself before you find the flaws in me.
I'm not saying I don't have actual flaws... because I know I do. Oh, I do... but everything goes so much deeper than any label anyone can say.
So please. Think twice before you say something about someone else... because word travels fast, and we are so much more vulnerable than what we like to believe.

no sunlight.

They say April showers bring May flowers, but it always seems to rain in March. In March, it seems as if the skies were never blue--never will be blue. A giant sheet of dusty gray surrounds all the dead. Dead from winter. Dead from life. And who am I to make it live again? I am one person. One person getting older. Graying. Hair and skin take on the blase tone of things that are dead--but soon the black and white of life blur together as well. How can I set life right when I am not right myself?
March is like running--never fast enough. Never fast enough to escape the rain, or fast enough to divert my eyes from the dead skies. At least it all used to be covered. Frozen in place, at least. And I didn't mind.
But now, there is so much to see--so many leaves plastered against the cracked and salty road, so many branches laden down from humidity. And I, pathetic I, cannot even lift up myself, let alone the spirits of others. Because really, what hope is here? What is reachable? What promise?
No. I cannot see through the opaque gray sheet that acts as a bubble--surrounding my life, forcing my eyes to look at nothing but my struggles, my faults... my past. For all I know, there is no future; I can't see it. Hell, I can barely see myself.
The wind constantly hisses--you're not good enough. You're not good enough. You will never be good enough--because I can't see the sun. There's no sunlight. No sunlight.

there are some things i know i cannot do.

it's hard not to eat when food is being stuffed down your throat.

fix it. how? don't care. just fix it.

Okay. here it is. my last emotional outlet before i begin the week.

so seriously? you think that that doesn't hurt. that its all about whats funny at the moment, and what makes you laugh. and i smile. of course. because if i dont you'll find another thing to call me... as if that would help my trembling self esteem. this world is just so freaking MESSED that theres nothing i can do. everyone has problems. i have problems. you have problems. the mexican government has problems. health is a PROBLEM. hurt is a problem. and yet everyone thinks that no one cares. and they do. OKAY????? so just chill. and stop calling me things. if it were up to my inner selfish self i wish i didnt care about anything, so when i go to bed at night i can just hit the pillow and fall asleep without a care in the world. i wish me and the world could talk. i wish we both had time to stop and listen and try to solve all these damn problems that just keep on coming up. but when it comes down to it--its you. everyone solves their own problems. because no one has time to care anymore. no one can let go of their pride, or their past, or the thoughts of others. i've prayed to God to give me my compassion back, but all it gives me is pain. and a sense of hopelesness. i just want to cut all my ties and wander off into the wilderness except that I am NOT a nature person (even though I should be, apparently), i need people to talk to so i can get stuff like this off my chest, and frankly, to be realistic, i would probably get eaten by a bear. Or raped and murdered. bceuase there are some things people just CAN'T DO. and nothing from this earth can change that.

so what do you want me to do? what in the world do you want me to do?

well this is what i'm doing. if it helps you, good. if it doesn't, i'm sorry. but one of the hardest lessons i've learned in life its that no matter what you do, you can't make everyone happy. i'm giving up distractions. i'm giving up things that keep me away from whats important.

and guess what? i'll probably piss someone off doing it.
but i'm also giving up what i feel.
so i can focus on others feelings.
because maybe that will make me feel better.

because, maybe, just maybe, no one will have anything to say about me.

irobot.

why do we feel? why can't we go through life, not getting attatched to anyone, because breaking apart is always too hard?
i'm going to live my life like a machine this week.
do my homework.
do multiple.
thats it.
i'm not going to care about my feelings, because according to a lot of people, I don't have any.
so that's how its going to be.
work, and other people.
because i'm not inside their head.
and they're not inside mine.

Okay its back.
False alarm.




This is just one of those moments when you do something stupid before really thinking about it.
Examples:
1. Swearing in front of Mitch's mother. AWKWARD.
2. Sending a random text because you are bored and receive no response.
3. Being the leader and telling people what to do and finding out you were wrong and told EVERYBODY the wrong information.

Oh life.

missing a blog?

I look at my page and my blog is missing.



It is GONE!!!!!




Now what am I going to do when I really need some random assignment for creative writing class???



Shoot.

roast me up some energy por favor!

Nothing like waking up at 7:00 in the morning (when I could have woken up and hour later), walking outside in the freezing cold to play a piano piece that is way below your skill level, and all the while thinking "Why did I stay up until 4:00 in the morning again?"
Ah.
Priceless.
That reminds me when moon and myself took the psat on maybe three hours of sleep.
Holy mother.
I need some coffee.

jingle-aya.

And I wait. But not for the last time. Sitting. Sitting. Frowning. More sitting. Anger. Happiness. Frustration. Jealousy. Repeat.
All the things going through my head and the feeling like I keep getting punched in the stomach is not something I want to explain. Which I can. But I won't.
It took me two hours to fall asleep. Then I woke up again with a start at a dream that I see all to vividly in my mind. Because stuff like that has happened in my life. And it's not fair.
What kind of world is this if it's a blessing that people can walk after a surgery?
What kind of world is this if people are thankful that they don't freeze as they sleep on the streets?
What kind of world is this if people who prance around stabbing people in the back can just keep on prancing?
Nothing makes sense.



There's this thing called passion... and I have a little too much of it in my life right now. It drives my thoughts to their very limits where I can barely keep my voice from escaping my throat. Because that is how I express myself.
My voice.
Either low and shaky, or high and sweet.
A voice not my own, but one I recognize all too clearly.
And I will never be done expressing, but at the same time I've lost my caring.

i dread those three days.

We are crawling masterpieces falling downstairs.
Why did you let us go?
We used to be rain, light, song, and cloud.
But now we are this... people who hate.
Who cry.
People who want something more than this life.
All we want is to run up the stairs back to you,
But we can't climb the first step leading up,
Because we are a fallen, broken people.
Fallen and dirty.
Pick us up.
Help us up the first stair,
The one that brings us closer to You.

it fills my heart.

Looking around, and singing loud, my heart stops short a beat.
I realize the words coming out of my mouth are not a random feat.
I run upstairs and write them down,
Pounding on my piano to remember the sound.
I remember the thoughts, the feelings, the words,
and I play them on my dusty keyboard.
And now when I sing I remember the time
When my life stopped short and created rhyme.

to my lighthouses.

To whom it may concern:
I'm sorry. This is a public apology for me being selfish, for me only thinking about myself. It hasn't just been you either. It's everyone... everyone is paying for my actions that are motivated by only one thing: me.
And I'm sorry. I'm trying to make it better, to make things right when I say I can't, or I won't, or yeah, I'll call you tonight... when I never do.
So I'm sorry. To you, and to others that I just walk right past without thinking about. Because it's not about me.
This isn't a fun thing to admit, but I can keep on lying to myself and become someone I hate, or hate what I do and change what I'm becoming.
Thank you for forgiving, and thank you for putting up with a nut like me : )
All of you (you know who you are) are a great group of friends and I treasure you most dearly, and don't forget it. Thanks for looking past the lies that people may have told you, and still seeing me for what I really am.
Thank you.
And I mean it.
Love, Christine.

just gotta.

It's like running through a soul line with everyone screaming at you to do one thing, but then at some point, you just gotta throw your head back, laugh, and bust your own move.


Cause chances are you can't do the worm anyways.

and now he sings songs I don't know.

He's one of those people that gets everything. Every joke he makes, someone laughs. Every whimper that slips out of his mouth, someone is there with their arms open, waiting for a hug. Every college prays that he will enroll in their institution, just so they can sport his awards and achievements in their all-too polished trophy cases. And I met him, once. Over spring break. A chance in a lifetime, if my sarcasm can capture that thought well enough. Somehow, our life lines were entwined for a few days, and it weaved itself into my every thought and heartbeat. Strangled, if you will.
Until he decided to let go. He threw my heart off to the side of his highway life, and just left me there. I was young. I still am. But he had me going, chasing him like a cat chases a toy, never ceasing until it goes away. He's still chugging along, sprinting down that road, looking for his next opportunity... his next fling. Maybe someone like me. Maybe some one more daring, or more entertaining on the phone. Who knows? Who will be able to capture this shooting star, flying fast and out of reach? I certainly don't, but I do know that my stomach turns a little every time I look back on that once in a lifetime chance in Jackson, Mississippi.

chug chug chugging along.

Okay, so obviously my last post was not the greatest... but I really don't have much to say right now. I'm just kind of chug chug chugging along. Just living. Should I want more? Should we ever be so content with what we have? I guess a boy would be nice... but I feel like I should be wanting more. Not more objects, but more depth. I shouldn't be happy with myself. Because I'm never loving enough, I never work hard enough, I never care enough. But thats not a way to live your life either. BAH! This life thing. It's crazy, no?

just call me audrey!

Yes! I am so excited. Multiple here I come!!!

a minute's peace and quiet.

I love everything I do. Acting, singing, piano, voice, hanging out with friends, school I really don't mind, homework makes me feel accomplished... but I always feel like I'm missing out. Mostly from my family (my poor parents always have to drive me places when I'm usually in a bad mood) because I'm never at home. I miss them... and I feel like they miss me. And certain friends I don't get to see because of one act. Boo. And its nothing personal. I don't hate my family. I don't have my other friends. Its just that 24 hours in a day just isn't enough sometimes. So even when you feel like you have everything you'll always be missing something. Boo. CAN'T I MAKE A FRIGGIN CAKE AND EAT IT TOO??? Gr. Oh well. Life is great,

i am so HAPPY!

The title was just the theme of my day. I say I'm happy, so I am happy. And it worked! All day, I was (am) in a great mood. Bad stuff happens, and I just let it bounce right off of me. No big deal. Everything is great. Just super peachy-licious. YAY FOR HAPPY DAYS!

the catwalk.

Well hello there fellow blog-landers! I was thinking the other day about self awareness; and how often, we are absolutely clueless or just plain wrong when it comes to knowing ourselves. So I was thinking, what are the misconceptions you have had about yourself? For example, I used to think I was fairly shy and introverted, and then I voiced that opinion concerning my social skills and got one of those are you on something? looks. Okay. Cool. Has anyone ever corrected you, and they have been right? Have they been wrong? Do you come off differently to other people than who you really are? Are you not as Christian as you thought? It's incredible the way one negative comment can be worth more than a thousand posotives... but are they empty threats? Or do they have meaning?
Thoughts, please.

refrigerator poem.

Her twirling hand bids night to jump, spring, and twirl.
Lights flash as the moon chases her swinging hips as his eyes scan for her across the room.
But she hardly cares.
Nothing matters--no more worries, no more enemies.
Just the bass pumping through her body like adrenaline before a race,
Daring her to take new steps outside the concrete walls of her comfort zone.
The arms that were once glued to her back now turn circles in the air,
With the night bidding her along.
Are people watching?
Are people judging?
Do people noticing her frizzy, sweaty hair?
But more importantly, does she care?
No.
Because finally, she is free from commitment, trends and labels.
Free from you, free from this time.
So just dance.

A not-so-simple wish list.

If I could make a million wishes, I would start with you. I would wish for the problems you have, because you look to others to fill the holes you're not capable to fill. You've made me cry. You've made others cry. If this gives you pleasure, you're even worse off than I thought. The self control it takes for me to bite my lip as you brush people off like a piece of lint on your shirt makes me shake with anger. I clench my jaw so hard I'm afraid that my body might fall into hundreds of little pieces. You won't do anything now, but you know that what you're doing is not okay. Somewhere deep down, you know what you're doing--so this wish is for you. To wake up. Smell the roses. Or whats left of them, anyways. I can't forgive you yet, but I sure as hell can pray. Because if anyone can make wishes come true, it's Him.

exams stink like dog crap.

oh the joys of youtube.

I thought this was pretty funny.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nv4SCfEuYqg

lonesome? I think NOT!

Yesterday I went to the library (and then starbucks after it closed at 5 o clock) by myself. No other people. Just me and my Ipod, and the ever present cell phone. It was so nice being somewhere with people, but by yourself. It's as good as "alone time", because no one knows you, and in a way, you are alone... you're just surrounded by people that really don't care about you. I felt noticeable, but invisible, and it was very freeing. Librar. To free. En espanol. Es una lengua (also a word for tounge) muy divertido cuando tu tienes un "cheat sheet". Sorry. I've been studying to much.
To continue with my alone rant, I also am giving up facebook until next sunday, so I will not be distracted when I should really be doing something constructive. Another way to seperate myself from the world. Too many people today think that staying home on a friday night is a waste of time and "social sucide". Well I say it's time well spent focusing on what you need to do! Baha! Take that society!!
Also over this weekend, I have learned that I study better when I am not in my house/my room, because my brain confuses studying time with relaxing time just because I'm in raggedy pajama pants listening to Jack Johnson, when really I'm trying to focus. Ah. Silly brain. WORK WITH ME HERE.
All in all, here are some stellar studying tips that may work for you if you are lazy/slightly anal-retentive:
1. Go out somewhere by yourself! If you went out just to study, you will feel commited to do so. Plus, you probably look like a fool when you tune out anyways, so thats even more motivation to stay focused.
2. Take breaks! Every two hours or so, log onto blogland or something equally as brain frying and hang loose so you are more efficient in your next studying stretch.
3. Drink coffee! Not only is it delicious, but it keeps you awake and attentive. But maybe it makes you a little hyper if you are like me... so use with caution.

and in this I find hope of all "hopes".

Lord, help me get there.
In a week I'll be okay.
Just a few more weary, long and stressful days.
Lord, help me get there,
Because I can't make it on my own.
I try my very hardest, but I might as well be alone.
Lord, help me get there,
When my friends don't know what to say.
They always want to help me Lord, but they can't always make it okay.
Lord, help me get there.
Please, Lord, help me get there.

grace note.

I was such a terrible person today. And I'm sorry. I feel like my head is about to explode, and all I want to do is scream and have no one hear me. Everything I did, said... I'm sorry I can't be perfect; I wish I could... for you anyways. You have no idea how much willpower it takes to get up in the morning when you know you have to climb a mountain everyday. Every ounce of my being is saying "You can't do this. Give up now. Why are you trying?", but somehow I keep going. And I know it's not me anymore. It's something that not everyone knows, but only those lucky enough to realize it's in them. I need help. Counseling. Maybe a slave to do my homework as I focus on the things only I am supposed to do. But goodness... CUT ME SLACK. So I blew up. A little. Not even that much. CAN I GET A LITTLE GRACE FOR BEING AN EXTREMELY STRESSED OUT AND USUALLY VERY REASONABLE TEENAGER??? Seriously, I'm trying here.
I'm sorry, no one really cares about me ranting about all this stuff... you probably feel like a fool for reading this. But this was definitely one of those posts thats for my benefit more than yours.

speaking of stepping on toes...

Incredibly difficult and unfair decisions much? HOLY COW. Sure, go on, keep it coming. I already have a TON to think about... might as well keep it going, right? Well I have this thing called a motivation/tolerance cutoff... and I just passed it. I CAN'T DO THIS. There's so much to do, I don't even know where to start. Then all this dance stuff had to come rolling along... GAH. Seriously. It's not like I'm not grateful... but man alive. COME ON.


summary: me = GIANT STRESS BALL ROLLING TOWARDS AN UNAVOIDABLE CRASH INVOLVING LOTS OF SCREAMING AND SWEARING THAT WILL PROBABLY OFFEND LOTS OF PEOPLE.

dilation.

Apparently I'm stepping on a lot of toes, but have you ever noticed that the floor is covered in feet?

my words couldn't say.

A greater love than any sorrow can never be denied.
But never has a thought of reason ever crossed my mind.
All I know is when all are lost, and the weary lose their flame,
Silence fills the endless gap where sunlight has remained.

why high skoo' is DUMB

1. Materialism.
2. Flirty girls who thinks its attractive to have your mammary glands falling out of their shirts.
3. People who laugh for the sake of being heard.
4. Teachers who should really care more about their job.
5. Always feeling the pressure to be blonde and skinny.
6. And wear a North Face jacket.
7. And have a Vera Bradley purse.
8. And wear jeans that are WAY too tight for your ass. (honestly? leave a LITTLE something for the imaginiation)
9. People who don't care.
10. People who are selfish and therefor do not see (or maybe even care) about the suffering of others.
11. Mean girls.
12. DOOOOOSH boys. (no, i don't know how to spell doosh... haha)

why high skoo' can be GOOD
1. Fun opportunities to express myself in the ways of being loud and overly confident (aka acting)
2. Singing.
3. Lovely people that I get to see everyday.
4. A chance for me to be an active Christian.
5. It's and education... I hear that gets you places.
6. You get to read good books (the Chosen? Their Eyes Were Watching God? Maybe? Eh?)
7. Fashion inspirations! (some people dress so cool.)
8. Boys. Don't laugh... you know you were thinking it too. Haha.

And of course theres more. But I'm being called upstairs. Any others?

welk, my friends, its time we chat.

It sounds like everybody is super confused about life and purpose and God and all the deep things that I LOOOVE talking about, and franlkly, are the most important things we CAN talk about.
So if anyone is up for it, I suggest a little meeting for us blog-landers sometime.
Coffee saturday night? Or dinner? Whatever. Lemme know.

run run run.

It's amazing how running makes so much sense. Your legs, lungs, and the music you're listening to all working together. All you need to know is go, go, go. You don't even need to be good to understand that. Everything about it is logical. Why am I so tired? Because you're dragging a fat ass around. Why am I losing my breath? Because you need more oxygen for your muscles to work that hard. Oh, and my favorite, WHY AM I DOING THIS??? Oh yeah. Because I want to be skinny.
See? Logic. Unlike other stuff. Like people.

lets do this.

Quick! Let school start before I change my mind about being ready!

you're lost.

not saying I'm found, but better off than you.
it hurt.
you suck.
no, you can't make it better right now.
because it stings.
cuz "I'm the bitch".
yup.
you sure are awesome.
your clothes.
your "friends".
and not for one miserable little second would I ever want to be you.
because I am not ashamed.
and I have to say... I won.