How to survive life as a complete enigma.

Put Out The Fire, Boys.

2009-09-17T19:35:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure what compelled me to post tonight. There's nothing of interest to say. I mean, tons of shit has gone down since January, it really has... I need to come back to this. I need to be reined back in.

Tell me your story.
That's why I'm here, too.

I don't know what that means.

It's late and I should be going. I'll come back, for sure I'll come back.

I'm sorry for leaving in the first place.

A Lovely Night.

2009-01-27T17:29:00.000-08:00

The day itself might not have been as savory, but it proved to be a bit more spirit-lifting as the evening wore on.

As the evening wore on... that's a nice expression. And with your permisson, I think I'll say it again.

The evening wore on.

I sucked it up on stage this morning. I mean, seriously. A fourth grader spelled penultimate and I misspelled plennery. How u-n-f-o-r-t-u-n-a-t-e.

In English, I finished The Outsiders for the tenth time. The rest of the class listened to Cherry and Pony talk about sunsets.

I danced with a typical teenage boy. He apologized for his sweaty hands at every break we took.

The day was blatant and tiring. When I got home, I took an unsuccessful nap and laid around in my room, thinking about how much Soda really deserved better than Sandy, and how I had work to do, and how nice the dark skylight looked against the walls, which I soon won't wake up to anymore.

My brother was kind of upset that he wasn't home enough, so I decided to make dinner with him.

What it ended up to be was INCREDIBLE.

It was beef, mixed with fried onions and bell peppers, tossed with Italian farfalle and homemade, completely un-recipe'd, spur-of-the-moment alfredo sauce.

I was in awe of how awesome it was. You might want to try spontaneity some time-- it can actually be productive.

By the way, if you really want to try that alfredo sauce, I used about an inch-square of butter-- just eyeball it, a pretty nice amount of pamesean cheese [Parmesean-Romano Shakey Bottle Kind That You Put On Quick Pasta is great. Make sure there's lots of it.] , cream cheese [make it fit about the amount of sauce that you're making], milk [again, decent amount], garlic powder [Italian Bread Seasoning is also excellent], and however much salt and pepper will content your heart.

Tasty.

So, anyways, now I'm sitting here watching the Colbert Report... enjoying this masterpiece.

Twitter, MySpace, Faecbook... work in general-- it all can wait.

[Oh, very very belated Merry Christmas and a happy New Year. Hope it's golden.]

Restoring my faith in humanity.

2008-11-24T08:05:00.000-08:00

HIGH FUCKING TIME, right?

Haha, yeah. Well, I feel it's about time for it to all come over.

I spent my morning [and will continue to do so until lunch] sitting in the coffee shop that my sister works at. My dad was around until maybe... fifteen minutes/half an hour ago. We talked, which was pretty good. We got free breakfast because the bosses here are so boss themselves that the universe will probably collapse soon. Watch out.

I'm sitting by the window, which is pretty cool. I have my own little table in my own little corner. The walls are electric green, which capitalizes the awesome. It was snowing not too long ago, but it wasn't sticking. It looked like someone was ripping open a pillow from a plane. Now it's just raining.

So it's me and two other people in the shop right now. A twenty-something girl and a probably-thirty-something guy. The guy's about to leave. He says he has to get back to work as a law clerk. The girl is studying for her Chemistry exam, and she's probably going to leave soon.

I'll be here until about noon.

There's a guy outside trying to start his car, and epically failing. One of the bosses, whose name I have yet to learn [I think it's Tom, but I don'

t want to take any chances] , just stepped out to help him. The three of us inside are watching with fingers crossed. This is where human faith steps in. The Owner 1/2 has agreed to watch the car while Car-Guy runs down to get something to help him. Owner 1/2 waves to us through the window. We wave back. He sits in the drivers seat of the car and plays with the GPS.

Car-Guy returns, waving jumper cables. Owner 1/2 helps him get on his way.

See? Not everyone in the big city is an asshole. This makes my heart smile, like this --> :D

The bosses are totally awesome blossom with extra awesome. See, yeah... they were quoting the Office too, so leave me alone.

They like, wander back here when they aren't filling orders or making coffee or something. And they're all like, "So... Andi says etc. etc. etc." And stuff. And one came back and was like, "So how old are you again?" And I told him that I just turned ___ on Friday and he was like, "Whaaaaat? You're young as hell, man!"

By the way, I'm doing all of this instead of writing a thesis paper. It's exponentially cooler.

Everything here is pretty cool. Chicago is the perfect reason to wear hoodies and scarves. It's the perfect reason for an ungodly long road trip. It's the perfect reason to wake up at, what... five thirty, five forty five to go to work with your sister and write a blog instead of a thesis paper.

That's about it for now. I'll probably write you guys again when it starts snowing.

Me in my corner. The walls really are that green.

We've Got A City to Love...

2008-10-22T16:06:00.000-07:00

HANK IT'S 6:06 ON THE TWENTY SECOND OF OCTOBER.

WELCOME TO MY INEXPLICABLY YELLOW LIFE...

If anyone knows of a way to love John Green more than I possibly do right now, please let me know. I've let the fact that I didn't get casting calls for his movies slide by, but honest to God, I love the man.

:]

So I'm writing this at the library. I'm probably supposed to be doing my homework. I really don't want to.

I only have about... half an hour left on the computer, because they have that one hour limit thing which I hate, but see necessary. I've really been wanting to write a blog post for a while now, but I haven't had time to lately. I have so much I need to do.

I have so much to do.
I have so much.
I have.

So, anyways, I've got an ice pack. Someone fell on my neck today, which hurt quite profoundly. I just can't even explain.

I need to make some packages for some people who deserve it. Shelly, whose birthday was franking TWELVE DAYS AGO and Cole, who was promised one a few months ago.

I have play practice every night now for the school play, except on Tuesday, which is when I have Scholars Bowl. Sigh. Life. It goes on relentlessly.

I really need to write some stuff. Not only for my school applications, but for creative outlet. It's one of the worst feelings in the world when you start doubting your given talents. =/

Back to my latest post which was religion-centric. Kind of. I still haven't talked to anyone about it except by my sister, who thinks that it'll be "fun to watch". I'm still wondering if it would be worth it to straight up tell people or to let them just go on believing that I am "that girl".

You know. The one who never makes waves.

I've been studying religion, and Buddhism is just... so interesting. Like, so much that I think when I get older and have done everything I want to in life, I'll step on the Eightfold Path and sail into Enlightenment. I know it's kind of bad to wait till the last second and interject something like that so selfishly into your life, but I think it could work for me. At least, I hope so.

The religion I've come across that seems to fit me is theistic agnosticism. It seems humble, by not extricating yourself to the point that you're like, "Okay, I am sinless. I am perfect. I am at peace. I will remain serene throughout my gentle walk of worldly life."

That seems so stuck up to me. I mean, forgive me if I'm bashing your beliefs. Truly. I am sorry if I offend you. But I happen to believe differently. I like the thought that I can borrow freely from all religions. I don't even know if I can label myself.

Okay, twenty minutes left.

I'm going to go check my MySpace.

:]

♥

Who Will Save Your Soul?

2008-10-03T20:52:00.000-07:00

As much as I profess to hate Jewel with every fiber of my being, I actually like this song. It helps me write. I recommend listening to it, if not adding it to some kind of epic playlist.

I'm beginning to take things in in a different way now. I don't really know what happened. Yes, I did see Tuesdays With Morrie in a theatrical production [which was DAMN brilliant, by the way...], and that probably had something to do with it.

Anyways, I've started to want to make time for myself, which is something I admit to not doing. The last time I feel like I truly made time for myself was that time that I wrote the super long blog at, like, four in the morning. I felt so accomplished, so fulfilled. And after I finish that epic feat, I get yelled at for staying up so late.

And all I could think was, "Seriously? Piano falling from the sky, much?!"

Right now, I'm making time for myself, even though I'm laying here with the knife over my head. I know the result will probably be the same as last time.

So, today was Andrew's birthday. Remember the guy? Yeah. Well, I decided since our friendship should probably parade the effing badge "Comeback of the Year", I should make him something pretty cool. I don't know... even as I drew the last Godzilla on the box, I still felt like it was lacking something I couldn't put in there, even if I knew what it was. Either way, the contents are as follows:

Picture of Blacula with the nametag that says, "Hi! My name is: BROOM SHARD." It's an inside joke. Don't think too much about it.
About nine of my homemade brownies...? I think he liked them. I forgot to ask if he liked mint. Oopsies.
Orange Vitamin Water, for my Vitamin Water buddy. Again, an inside joke, so don't read into it or you might hurt yourself.
An atrociously mushy letter that I will probably end up regretting.
Loooooooooove. :D

And I think that's it... I really hope he likes it as much as he says he does.

I just tried to post a picture of it, but it ended up being ugly and not as pretty as it really was.

Anyways, he says it was the best thing he's gotten all day.

Well, Mr. Andrew. I have a message for YOU.

Your comment was the best thing I've gotten all day. So THERE. :D

It makes me feel good to give. I know that's kind of contradictory to everything else I've posted on this blog, because it's all me whining about how much giving "hurts" me. But it really does make me feel like I'm doing something. And it's unbelievable when people like it. =]

And now for the dark side.

Mwahahahaha.

My mother seems to be more concerned about my weight than I am, which makes me angry and self conscious at the same time. I mean, I guess I can understand, but it's not like I'm addicted to the TV, as she claims. She's always slipping that not-so-subtle hint in our conversations.
Always always always.

What's on TV tonight?
Oh, Food Network. They're doing a special on teen weight. I think we should watch it together.

What'd the doctor say?
Oh, just the routine. Here's the medicine. It might help if you lost some weight, too.

Why don't people like me any more?
Well, sweetie, you're changing. Physically, mentally, emotionally... physically...

I know if she reads this, she'll be offended. But this is a place for my opinions, and it's only a little sad that I have to remind myself that. And I know that she reads this from time to time, because she's always telling me how inspiring I am.

Yeah, yeah.

Who will save my soul?

I'm still a bit confused on this subject. The idea that you can borrow freely from all religions is comforting. I used to think, as a kid, "What if I like the wrong God?" Mind you, that was around the time that I started having friends who grew up in different religious standards than myself. I used to ask this little Muslim girl why she didn't eat school lunch, and the response about the "unclean meat" just completely baffled me.

But I still think that. What if I like the wrong God? What if, my whole life, I pray to the Christian trinity and when I get to Heaven, I see Confucius and Shiva playing poker at the pearly gates? What happens then?

Get ready for something that'll blow your mind.

I don't want to change my religion entirely because I like referring to myself as a Presbyterian.

Isn't that just... ridiculous?!

And when I say the word 'agnostic', everyone flocks to me with flowers that have already wilted and their wax words about their personal God. I just have to cringe. There are certain things, I believe, that people should be more open and accepting to. Religion is a prime beneficiary of such critique.

So, if I can find a word that sounds as cool if not cooler than Presbyterian that encompasses what I really believe, I swear to whatever I believe in that I'll call myself that.
[A lot of people have been throwing theist, deist, and unitarianism at me, but I have to look into it. ]

So, in a lot of ways, I feel like I could save my own soul. The very same soul that I help destroy. But there has to be some kind of conflicting force.

=/

Why am I thinking tonight? I told myself to make time to do this... God didn't. A god didn't. I just... did. What does that mean?

By the way, if I came off as preachy, I'm terribly sorry. If you read any of what I said up there, you know that's the last thing I'd want to come off as. <3

Come Hell Or High Water.

2008-09-25T13:39:00.000-07:00

Have I mentioned how much I dislike being the emo whiny kid with a blog?

Well, if I haven't, I do hate it.

And now on to whining.

There's this new girl, see, and this isn't entirely her fault, mind you. But she made me très uncomfortable multiple times today at just... completely random times.

Okay, background check:

just moved from South Carolina
considers herself "emo"
loves anime
loves loud, angry music [the kind that personally sometimes scares me...]
looks kinda like one of my extra good friends
does the whole pouty, apathetic thing when people watch

And, finally...

sucks up to me horribly.

Now, I recall myself saying that she's not entirely at fault, which is true. She is a new kid, so I have to cut her some slack on the sucking up and the uncomfortable awkwardness. But, still. Like many people I know of, she too lacks the filter between her brain synapses and her lips to tell her, "WAIT! Hey! You might offend somebody by saying this!" Which, unfortunately, is common with people my age.

So, today, she just kind of inadvertently blurts out these random things that are at least semi-important to the person I've created myself to be.

Things involving writing, people, acting, and self-harm.

Which are all kind of sensitive subjects with me, if you hit them at the right points.

So she's going on about them, and I'm sitting there without saying anything. She finally begins to harass me with questions about if I'm okay, because I seem quieter than normal. And I keep telling her that I'm fine or whatever, and she starts going on and on about the guilt trip I'm putting her on.

And in my head, I'm just saying, "Oh my God... I can't believe that I have another [person who isn't Ashleigh whose name I'm going to protect by putting this in here] in my life again."

Sigh.

Oh, and someone extra cool who I won't tell you has been keeping up with my blog. And under this cold, emo-ish teenager shell, I am geeking the fuck out!

♥

Familiar Resolve.

2008-08-31T22:08:00.001-07:00

So here I sit again at roughly midnight, writing a blog post that I'm pretty sure no one will read. I need some kind of release, though, because the show is over and the applause is done.

I mean that in a more literal sense than you might think.

The play that I've been practicing for and helping produce closed today. We struck the set and put everything away and the stage was completely empty. It was kind of sad. I'm going to miss every one of the eight people in the cast.

Life's been pretty hectic lately... not just because of the play. My friends, my family, and everything close to me slips away from me like the tide. I fear that it's all going to come back at me like a tsunami. The tide slowly pulls away until it surges back in full force.

I'm pretty sure that it might happen.

And it's not like I'm depressed or anything, but I was talking to a long time friend just a few minutes ago, and she told me that she felt like I was pushing away. Honestly, the words from her didn't hurt at all. Just the impact after I said it over in my head was enough to make me want to cry. Lately, I've been feeling like the whole no one's on my side spiel. My parents have been starting random fights with me, and everyone I try to explain it to, even my sister, maybe, brushes it off and spits it back at me like some kind of teenage shit no one really cares about in the long run.

But I care. And apparently, I'm the only one who does anymore.

I've been wanting to write lately. I've opened several Word documents and typed a few sentences, got excited, planned ahead in my head, thought up some random dialogue, and then my muse fizzled out. I hate it when that happens.

I hate it when that happens.

I really hate whining on the internet, where no one is going to comment back and be my savior or anything. I realize that it's not going to happen. But what am I supposed to do? Print it out and mail it to the newspaper? It's just not going to happen.

I think what my problem is is that I've been waiting for some kind of recognition that I'm not going to get. I want my parents to see me as something more important than just their daughter who is still growing up. I want other people to recognize me for what talent I have and say something about it.

I'm tired of the pats on the back. I'm tired of the satire and the sideways looks.

I realize that I'm still young. I realize that my age limits things that I can and cannot do. But still, I want the recognition. This wallflower is blossoming, but everyone's watching the morning glories.

I hate sounding like the whiny teenager too, but I guess if that's what I am, that's what I am. No one's going to change that until I can change it myself. Obviously, anyone who has already tried to stop me has been ridiculed or at least mentioned.

But I feel like there's nothing I can do about it. I skipped the frilly laces of childhood innocence and now I'm in the adult world. A lot of things are bearing down a lot harder than I think they should for someone of my age.

I'm sitting here in the reddest of the playground swings. I'm watching children run around, giggling and screaming. I remain safe in the swings. If I want to, I can just kick towards the sky. Maybe jump, maybe not. Children continue squealing. I possess the inability to condense my thoughts into a concise yet vague statement. I threw away my poetry assignment in the classroom before recess. It wasn't very good anyways. The running, screaming, squealing, giggling children don't know how I feel. I don't tell them. I wouldn't. If I told them, they won't believe me. If I keep it inside, they wouldn't, either.

Alfred Tennyson wants to know if it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. He feels it, when he sorrows most.

I don't know, though.

Lately, I've been feeling less trusted. Less trusted by them. Less trusted by myself.

The decisions they make put weight on me, and they tell me that the decisions I make effect them in the same way. That adds more weight. The stress of the weight pushes me to do things and to act irrationally, and to make decisions that effect me in the way that they warned me. It's almost a vicious cycle. They tell me how little they trust me to make me act out to get the trust, but when I fuck up, it only proves them right.

So maybe it is a vicious cycle.

I'm getting tired. Tired of cycles and decisions and effects. Tired of them. Tired of myself.

I'm getting lonely. Lonely without freedom and boredom and the time I had before. Lonely without them. Lonely without myself.

I'm getting belittled. Belittled of talents and slip-ups and formality. Belittled by them. Belittled by myself.

I'm getting to boiling point. Pushed to the surface, trying to keep up. Pushed by them. Pushed by myself.

I am waiting for something to go wrong.
I am waiting for familiar resolve.

I'm not going to waste these words.

2008-07-15T15:59:00.000-07:00

So, last night, I was listening to the totally boss new The Academy Is... song and in my head, something went off.

And the sound effect was something along the lines of,

"Ding! You've just had an epiphany!"

Okay, first of all: Lyrics.

Wrote a song about a girl
I can't breathe when I'm around her
I'll wait here everyday
In case you scratch the surface
You'll never know(?) it

I'm not in love
This is not my heart
I'm not gonna waste these words
About a girl

Last night I knew what to say
But you weren't there to hear it
These lines so well rehearsed
Sometimes I don't know it/So that I, I don't blow it(?)
You'll never know it

I'm not in love
This is not my heart
I'm not gonna waste these words
About a girl.
I'm not in love
This is not your song
I'm not gonna waste these words
About a girl.

Love, love, what more could you ask for?
Love love, everyone wants to be
Love love, what more could you ask for?
Love love, Everyone has love

I'm not in love
This is not your heart
I'm not gonna waste these words
I'm not in love
This is not my heart
I'm not gonna waste these words
About a girl
I'm not in love
This is not your song
I'm not gonna waste these words
About a girl.

Okay, so here's my epiphany:

I don't care!

:]

Yep. There it is.

You know why I don't care?

This all started in Chinatown. My brother, sister, and I all went out for Chinese food. And as we're sitting and talking in this restaurant, she asks, "So what's been bothering you guys? I feel like I talk to much about my own problems and we never get to talk as a family anymore," Or something like that.

So I'm like, "Well, why not?"

And we all know what's been bothering me.

I tell her, and she starts relaying things about her experiences when I was her age. And she's like, "Oh, the drama...!"

She said something that surprised me.

"I think that you should just stop caring. Stop caring enough that you're not killing yourself over it, and just care enough that you know what your rights are to do something. In the end, people are just doing what they think is going to make them happy. If they think sex is going to make them happy, they'll do it. Money, they'll steal or make it themselves. If they want to be different, however they perceive the word to be, they'll try to make themselves that way. I think you should just let this whole situation go."

So, I'm going to.

I think that letting all of this go will make me happy. Or at least somewhat more at ease.

So Ashleigh, I hope you read this. Part of me wants you to reply, part of me doesn't. I just want you to know that I don't care about it anymore. I just want to let you know that it's what I'm going to do.

It's not forgiveness or mercy or acceptance or endurance.
It's not anger or frustration or malice or impatience.

I just don't want to put up with it anymore.

It's not my problem, and I don't have to make it mine.

I'm going to continue my personal mantra that I think will make me happy in times like this.

Things are not as fucked up as they seem.
Things are not as fucked up as they seem.
Things are not as fucked up as they seem.

It will make me happy to believe this.

So I'm going to.

I remain neutral, which seems to be my natural talent.

And that's about all I have to say. There's no glitter to this one.

I'm not in love
This is not your song
I'm not gonna waste these words
About a girl.

[Also, on a side note, for anyone who cares... I might have appendicitis or some other thing wrong with me. Yeah. Not fun.]

Zooma Zoom Zoom...

2008-07-04T21:45:00.000-07:00

So here I am, in the great city of Chicago!

Haha... I feel like I'm making this a much bigger deal than everyone else seems to think it should be...

I really feel out of the loop, and I don't mean the Chicago Loop. I mean the friendship loop. I mean the loop that matters to me.

Arrogance and self-awareness rarely go hand in hand.

Anyways, two of my friends are feuding. Quite honestly, it makes me a little ill when I think about it. We JUST passed our year anniversary.

Time to fight.

I really am scared for them. I want things to get back to normal, but, as suckerpunch as it sounds to me, I don't think that'll be for a while. They both seem pretty steamed at each other.

And, apparently, something happened to one of them, and they won't tell me what's up, and she told me that her Blogger would be the best place to start if I wanted to know. And I'm on my brother's computer for two weeks. And I can't get a link from her.

GRRRR!

I haven't heard back from the other. She's on vacation too.

I really am worried.

=/

Suckerpunch... I've just coined a new adjective.

I am adjective.

I verb nouns.

Things are going well... even though I started my Chicago blog, I don't think I'll post in it. I don't know why... I'm just not diggin' it.

Speaking of digging things, Andrew Bobulinski is a super cool kid.

I just thought I should throw that out there... I said waaay early on that I'd dedicate a whole post to him at some point, and I think I will eventually, but not right now. I'm tired.

It's midnight. Can't you tell what I'm thinking?

If you can tell, I'd really like for you to tell me... 'cause I don't know what I'm thinking.

Don't worry about me, chickadee.

2008-07-01T09:04:00.000-07:00

Nothing grows faster than weeds except for maybe sunflowers and you have got to be a sunflower, ma'am.-- Andi.

I'd like to take a second to exhibit my exuding smart-ass-ness.

A bean plant is the fastest growing plant, and a bamboo chute is tied, I believe.

So, however it goes, I'll always strive to be a big, strong sunflower/bean plant/bamboo chute.

=]

Oh, I love ya. And I hope you don't hate me for this. Haha.

Which of the standard lines will we use?

2008-06-29T21:58:00.000-07:00

To the left of me's the sketch you drew
And to the right I see that book I lent you
To help you through the night

The black of charcoal on my thumbs
But with any luck you'll see the light that comes
From open eyes

It's All Hallow's Eve
Hold my hand
Ahead there's land
We'll row the boat
And leave it on the other shore

Through the wreckage of my college years
I made sure to hold close both my hate and fear
Of letting go

Told you Sunday just how long it's been
You confessed to me fears you'd been holding in
Now we both know

It's all fine with me
Hold my hand
Ahead there's land
We'll row the boat
And leave it on the other shore
Hold my hand
Ahead there's land
We'll row the boat
And leave it on the other shore
Through the fall
Come hell and all
We'll row the boat
And leave it on the other shore

You have no idea how much I wish I'd written that song.

Lately I've been worrying. Isn't that a shocker?

The worrying isn't weighted, though. It's mainly a bunch of that stuff that you tell yourself that you'll think of tomorrow. Right now is one of those fight or flight moments without the intensity of making the right choice.

At this moment, I'm reading a story that I started reading for the first time roughly a year ago to the date. The title comes from a Third Eye Blind song, and you can't pick up a copy of it anywhere. I didn't write it. It doesn't belong to me. I just read it.

And no, this isn't the story of my life or anything. Not even close. And I don't wish it was, either.

As I look back on the past year, I noticed how much I myself have changed. Recently, my two friends and I celebrated our unofficial anniversary of meeting. We met through a writing site. Basically, they've kept me writing.

Not that I would ever stop writing, but I've written so many things about them and they've helped me through so many binds and everything with anything ever. They've encouraged me and just kept me looking for everything.

Change one: Taking note of almost everything.

Also, I've managed to see the blacker side of white.

In this year, I've been denied access by the school that could very well set a good future for me. That might be exaggeration, but it's something that I've wanted. I never realized how cocky and confident I was about the whole situation until I was staring down the words, "We regret that at this time we cannot invite you to enroll in the Creative Writing Department for the 2008-2009 school year".

Change two: Basic humility 101.

Another change is understanding people around me. There's so much depth that I've encountered that I never thought I'd have to face. It seems so unreal how I could have been so blinded by subtlety and the like. I've seen the true yellow and gray shades of life.

I think what makes me think of this most is the notes that I've received- both directly and indirectly- from my sister, Andi. I know I talk about Andi a lot, but to me, she's one of those people that you either talk about as much as you can, or don't say anything at all.

When she came home for the month, she would leave me notes outside my door some mornings and on my pillows when I was gone. Really sincere and beautiful things, too.

I came home one day while she had gone to work. On the open notebook of the autobiography that I was assigned to create for the final large grade in English, I saw a scrap of paper. In my assignment, I was instructed to string together words in an essay about an important person in my life.

You can stop wondering who it was.

The note, in itself, was enough to make the tedious process of creating the autobiography worth it. I won't write what the note says, but it made me just want to think.

And I thought about it.

And I thought so much that I stuck a thumbtack through the note and placed it on my wall of inspiration to watch me while I sleep.

The note, among others, is there to this day.

Change three: Watching things blossom into truths in front of me.

Among all of these changes is a constant variable. Friends. They constantly come and go, and I find myself wondering if it's worth it to try to hold on to them any more.

This year, I've lost friends, and I've gained enemies in addition to losing friends. I've mended a bond between a friend that I never thought I'd have. Friends have moved and kept in well-maintained connections with me.

I shame myself continuously for trying to drag my friends to maturity, and I applaud the ones that have hung on with me for this long.

The reason I chose to mark this point is something that I remember from a while back.

On a particularly rainy November day, I was out with two of my moved away and kept in well-maintained connections with friends. The last true day of autumn. Ready for winter.

As Jeremi flailed and jumped childishly through puddles of water and mud, Noah and I sat on a curb and watched him, envious of his youth and everything he had that we had lost so long ago.

We sat probably ten minutes in complete silence. I remember having this thought:

"I'm sitting in a Wendy's parking lot, in the rain, while Jeremi defends his youth at any price. Of course I'm jealous."

Noah glanced over at me. "What are you thinking?"

His tone was more gentle than prodding, and I knew I had to answer with something.

"Look at him." Jeremi had just face-planted, having tripped over a curb opposite me and Noah. "He's laughing as much as he's bleeding. How can you not want that?"

Noah often praises me for the way I think, which is completely bizarre and new to me. I know that sounds kind of conceited and all, but that's the truth.

The thing that blows my mind is that I'm completely humbled by what he has to say, every time he speaks.

He's one of the wisest people I know. And he's only older than me by three weeks.

Noah is the kind of person who knows how to deal with everything the right way at the right time, unlike some people. Unlike me.

Noah has nothing, and everything.

I remember, for my birthday this past year, he called and left three messages on my phone.

Message one: Explaining why he was leaving a message and what the next two would be like, as a general outline.

Message two: Going through a list of things that I did and how I did them that made him want to continue to be around me.

Message three: Never Coming Back by The Early November. Not the recorded version, either. Hardcore guts and his own guitar playing, his own voice. He completely stunned me.

I just came to say I love you and see if you would be needing anything.
To say thank you and how grateful I am for everything you taught me.
It's those long talks I won't forget.
Just to see you smile, it brings me right to them.
So I'll sit here now and hold your hand.
It's these few long hours that make me what I am.

We laugh about the times,
We laughed so hard until we fell asleep this evening.
And then I watch you there alone, in fear, wishing I could speed your breathing.
And all the wind blows through the trees.
I swear they're angels talking back to me.
And I scream please don't leave me here tonight.
I need you now, I need you in my life.

But you're gone and you're never coming back again.
But you're gone and you're never coming back again.
But you're gone and you're never coming back again.
But you're gone and you're never coming back again.
But you're gone and you're never coming, you're never coming back.
But you're gone and you're never coming back again.

One of my favorite Early November songs ever. I was so impressed that he remembered it.

I don't remember if I told you this before, but Noah was a certified orphan until he started the middle of elementary school. His parents died in 9/11 and Jeremi's family legally adopted him so he could still get an education.

Noah has gone through most things that nobody, regardless of their age, should have to go through. And he still lives through each day with a heightened sense of serenity that makes me want to gouge my eyes out because of sheer jealousy.

A month after my birthday, Noah and Jeremi packed up and moved back to New Jersey.

Change four: Bitter and sweet go together.
Change four-point-five: Irony is a double sided blade.

I've been getting more excited about going to Chicago... I'm not sure what to be more excited about. Being in a big city, going to a camp where many famous people have started, or being with my sister and brother. I've decided to start a new blog for that... I've probably already mentioned that.

My worries are weightless. I feel like I need to say that again. The more I say it, the more it becomes so.

My worries are weightless.

They are.
They are.
They are.

I feel like it's definitely a step forward that I've started to fret over such trivial things now. I'm no longer worrying about my conflicting future paths as much as I am worrying that my iPod is going to break and I'll never be able to get all the songs back on it.

I've started to worry that I'll hit a Writer's Block and my characters will have too much dialogue and not enough action instead of worrying that I'm my friends' mother.

I like to think of it as a step forward. People tell me not to grow up too fast, and I never used to know what they meant until I stopped to think about it.

At this age, I'm not so sure that I want to have the world figured out already.

But, also, I'm afraid that I've also already passed that border somewhat.

My English teacher once talked to me about my maturity level. She related me to the poem Old Age Sticks.

   old age sticks
up Keep
Off
signs)&

youth yanks them
down(old
age
cries No


Tres)&(pas)
youth laughs
(sing
old age

scolds Forbid
den Stop
Must
n't Don't


&)youth goes
right on
gr
owing old

I was surprised by how true it seemed. First, she laughed at me for being so mature that I could understand an ee cummings poem, and then she told me to think about how it related to me.

And as I got back around to it, it made me think of how old I was becoming. Not physically or literally, per say, but mentally and emotionally and all that jazz.

Old age sticks up "Keep off" signs, and youth yanks them down.

Old age considers things way out of her league, like freeing Darfur and how capitalism saved America. Youth is not ashamed of her music and has sleep overs with their friends.

Old age sits on curbs in parking lots on rainy November days, and youth trips off them and laugh as much as it bleeds.

Old age has weightless worries and listens to The Early November and Ludo and has fight or flight moments with her worries. Old age has changed since the past year.

Youth watches the weightless worries float by Old Age and considers them loosely. Youth has seen the blacker shades of white and decided on a whim to not care in the slightest. Youth has matured since last year, but hopes to stay somewhat the same.

Old age scolds. Forbidden. Stop. Mustn't. Don't.

And Youth goes right on, growing old.

You have no idea how much I wish I'd written those songs, or that story, or this poem.

In a room without a window in the corner.

2008-06-26T20:16:00.000-07:00

I'm being pushed.

I'm walking towards a brick wall unwillingly.

I can't stop myself, but I don't really want to hit a brick wall.

Who does?

Maybe I did, once, when I was eight.

Vying for attention.

I always wanted to break my arm, just so people would ask why.

Why?

So people would look at me and go,

"Why did she run into a brick wall...?"

Just so they would talk.

This is like watching a car wreck in slow motion.

I feel the immediate need to help, but I just can't. I can't bring myself to it.

I'm running into my own brick wall. Leave me to my peace. I'm trying to get my own.

I hate that. Watching this happen and glorifying myself simultaneously.

It's not right.

It's not right.

ROAR!

2008-06-22T12:39:00.000-07:00

I just had a revelation.

Revolution.

Reevaluation?

I don't have to make my posts twenty gajillion words long!

But I do like keeping whoever cares updated.

I bought some new much needed pants this week.
I made thirty dollars at an art show and scored some free banana bread.
I discovered my old ProjectPlaylist full of songs that I listened to so much I thought my head would explode.
Theater camp is over, and I'm kind of relieved.
You're my e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g.
Chicago in a few weeks.
Mikey's a slacker and never wants to do anything fun anymore.
Danny and I have very slim musical tastes in common, yet we still stay close friends.
I really need to clip my fingernails.
And clean my room.
And make myself lunch.

Now I'm just kind of rambling. But at least you're updated, right?

=D

Yay.

There's more sun than shadow.

2008-06-15T17:39:00.000-07:00

I finally decided that I've been slacking.

...

Don't tell me that you've noticed, too!

Anyways, I have several drafts of posts just waiting to be posted, and I think I'll post them someday, if they still appeal to me.

I decided that my life is full of short thrills. Not just my life, but yours might be, too. Saying that makes me think of the time not too long ago when my sister Andi and I were watching Ratatouille and she announced- quite correctly, I must admit-, "This movie is just full of short thrills!"

And she was right. Just sayin'.

My sister is a very important person to me. And she might be to you, too. And if she's not, then she should be.

She's the only person who comments on my blogs- not that it matters to me who does that kind of thing anyways, right?

She's just completely awesome. On Thursday, I went to see her play at the restaurant that she works at when she's in town. The thing about listening to my sister play guitar and sing is that I know I'll never get sick of it. You know how with signed bands you can listen to them for hours on end for an entire year and one day, you wake up to one of their hits on the radio and realize how insincere you've begun to see them as.

I'll never feel that way with my sister.

I mean, yeah, she's my sister. I have to love her. But the air that she creates for herself is, as I describe it, redonkulously inspiring. She is so much herself that I couldn't think of anyone to compare her with.

Since she's been home, she's gotten into the habit of writing me these awesome notes that I stick up on my wall of inspiration.

I noticed the other night that everything she's sent me in letter form since she's gone away to college is on my wall. And for good reason, too.

This is the part where I hypocritically save my draft and leave the computer, probably to never kick this post up again until later.

Okay, maybe not, because I'm back.

Lawlz.

So, while my train of thought is derailed, I completely lost everything I was going to say.

Err.

Oh- but one other thing, I saw a certain someone read this blog, and I was like, "LAWLZ! I'll have to PG- 13 my language from now on. Darn it."

:D

Bahhhh. False.

Back on topic. I'm going up to Chicago in about two weeks to go to a huuuuuge theater camp and I'll be staying with my sister. I more than likely will start up another blog to take account of all my fun times up there... there should be pictures, but I can't promise good quality.

Yeahhh. That's about it.

There's more weeds than grass, and there's more sun than shadow...
-- Andi.

And you know what? I'm at the point where I'm actually starting to love you guys... but tell me if I'm going too fast.

;D

<3

Some People Think That Dandelions Are Weeds.

2008-05-06T17:49:00.000-07:00

I just had an in-depth conversation about growing up with this guy named Billy Valentine. Like, that's his for-real name. We kind of talked about everything. He's in a band from Jersey, and we apparently both needed someone to talk to.
I really did.
I've been playing Blue and Yellow by The Used on repeat for about a half an hour now, and I can't help but think about how much of an inspiration The Used is. Teenie, I know, but they really are, when I get down to it. Bert struggled with depression and drugs, alcohol, and God knows what else.

You'll never find it if you're looking for it.

Mr. Billy Valentine of Atlantic City briefed me on a few things that only a few people could think about wanting to know. He told me about how he caught the last Smashing Pumpkins show in Chicago and ran into a certain Adam T. Siska there. He told me how he got started in the band and that he wasn't sure if it was exactly easy or not.

And he told me how pretty the sunrise was yesterday morning.

In return, I told him about how I was up at four yesterday morning, but not to see the sun rise. I was working on my autobiography that I probably should have been finished with weeks ago. I even sent him a few of the poems (scripted poems, mind you) and an essay that I wrote about my sister. He seemed very impressed. It's that kind of thing that makes me feel good about myself- being recognized without bias. Your mom telling you that your essay is well-written is one thing... someone you barely know, though.

It might just be me, but it was inspiring.

So, that was all yesterday. Today was... odd. Right now, I feel like I've lost so much, and in return, I'm just waiting for un-guaranteed flatteries and fallacies. The counselor asked me if I'd be interested in being Editor-in-Chief of the newspaper staff next year, based on my fluency in wording a complaint letter to her.

Some people just can't take a hint, huh?

Anyways, I feel like somewhat of a hypocrite by ex-communicating Ashleigh like this. I'm kind of making- or wasting- time for myself by telling her that I just don't know, and that I'm trying to decide what kind of person I want to be in this sense. As in, I don't know if I want people to see me with people like her.

Harsh.

You have to understand that I'm not always as sweet and forgiving as I sound. If Hell is real, then I'm among the few people that I think should be worried about it.

Forgive and forget has never really been my motto. It seems pretty rounded out, but forgiveness takes a while, and I rarely forget. I've had friends who have done things that nobody in our group has been proud of accepting.

A cutter, a bulimic, a drug addict.

A suicide jumper.

The thing is, Ashleigh's really the first one that I've actually... not wanted to forgive. Again, harsh, I know. But... I don't ever make sense. The cutter and the bulimic went to therapy, and the drug addict is in rehab. I've forgiven them. I just can't find out why.

Ashleigh screwed around with some random guy. She knew, too. She knew what she was doing. And she should have known what effect it would have on our family of friends. Like I said before, I take on the mother role, whether I like it or not.

And on that note, when explaining WHY she did it, she said that she was "lonely".

I've learned to be offended by this, seeing as I wasn't that far away, and she could've said something.

And so was her boyfriend.

Well, ex-boyfriend.

Cutter and Bulimic, no excuse, except for that they were wrong and they knew that and admitted it. They had their stories together later, but there'll always be that void in my life where they thought to start it off in the first place.

Drug Addict was a completely different story that you don't need to know about.

And Jumper...

Well.

You know.

I think I should write a complete journal post dedicated to Cole and Andrew. They are my freakin' saints.

But isn't the only difference between saints and sinners is that sinners have a past, and saints have a future?

Yeah. And I'm the queen of the martyrs.

I need to start dwelling on happier things. Happy happy happy.

Happy happy.

I'm having my infected, deteriorating root canal extracted and redone tomorrow morning.

Happy happy, happy happy.

Actually, in reality, I don't mind going to THAT dentist, since the one that screwed up my first root canal is a quack. The woman is from Chicago, and she's telling me everything I need to know before I go in July. The guy has this amazing English/Scottish accent, and he's from Boston.

They just kind of stared at me when I told them how old I was.

My age and my name aren't important to you, even though you might already know one or both of them. I'm probably younger than you think. But it shouldn't matter, right?

I'm "ahead of my biological years", they say. Whatever that means. My biological years are actually semi-precious to me.

As self-righteous as it might sound, I'm scared of getting older. I'm not afraid of dying or being alone when I'm twenty, or not being successful. I feel that all of that will work out in time. But time is the essence, and in this sense, the enemy. I'm not afraid of the future, but I'm afraid that when I turn another year older, people will just kind of turn their shoulder on what accomplishments I've made this far. You know, I know that I'm young, but a lot of what I've done has been recognized simply because of my age. It's like, "Oh, she wrote that? Well, she wrote this other thing that totally battles that when she was younger... oh well. Hey, look! There's someone else that used to be her age that can do this better!"

I'm scared of being replaced by carbon-copies, if you get me. There's this group of girls in the grade younger than me, and they claim me as their caretaker. It kind of bothers me... they're going to end up just like Ashleigh, I'm almost sure.

"They're going to be just like her..."

"Oh, but Ashleigh hangs out with her. Maybe she's like Ashleigh."

I'm terrified.

But whatever.

Happy happy happy happy.

I should probably get out of here for now... I have to walk around outside for a while.

I want to thank you for being a part of my forget-me-nots and marigolds.

For a minute there, I lost myself.

2008-04-27T16:38:00.000-07:00

So, I know it's uncouth to post something before you post an official personality post, but I'm a firm believer in enlightenment and that you'll know what you need to know and discover things that you want to know.

Everything else is left to the birds. It's just up to you if you want to sprout wings and join them.

That said, welcome to my life. We run movies every Thursday night for your entertainment, but before you get excited, our personal favorite is Gigli. Hahahahaha!

Alright, enough of that.

And on to the real reason I started a blog.

If you've ever read the book The Perks Of Being A Wallflower, you might understand thinking in a different perspective and seeing things on a different level. Standing on the fringes of life, just to see over the edge.

Or maybe not.

I was changed by it. Aside from the drugs, sex, Rocky Horror Picture Show, and the main character's name being Charlie, I now know that there are deeper meanings to everything. Every light has a shadow, after all.

I'm thought-jumping here, and you're just going to have to deal with it, please and thank you.

I think the main thing that gets me most about that book is that he was, in theory, actually TALKING to someone through letters. He was communicating events and emotions and all of this crazy stuff happening. We was telling someone about it. He was dedicated enough to this unnamed character that we only know as "friend" and that he would actually open up enough to an anonymous "friend" to let them know everything in his life.

It eludes me.

Another thing that eludes me is how my very own "friend" Chris always always has a girlfriend. I mean, I love Chris and all, but seriously. Do I need to start acting stupid and angry all the time to get a boyfriend?

This is going to sound completely superficial and totally teenager of me, but I feel very lonely right now. I'm seeing friends walk off and become people that not only I, but they themselves, hate. They're choosing the stones just big enough to drag them down, and it scares me.

I'm listening to Karma Police. I wish I wasn't, but at the same time, I don't want to listen to anything else. I love Radiohead for making me realize what kind of things I get into constantly.

Karma Police, I've given all I can. It's not enough but, I've given all I can...

I seem to have apparently taken on the role as big sister/mother role in my, ahem, group of friends. I can see them looking up to me, and when they make decisions that I'm disappointed in them for making, the first thing I think is, What did I do wrong?

Prime example, right here. Prime example.

A friend that I call Ashleigh, because it's her name and she apparently does not need protection from me or any of my friends anymore, made a very unnerving decision. A little background on her, you ask?

She wears a lot of eyeliner. I mean, a lot. More than I own. I have nothing against eyeliner, for I wear it myself, and the vast majority of all my friends do.

She hangs out with the other guys. The guys who go to jail when they're 18 because they got too drunk and gang-banged some woman in the subway. What's more- she flirts with them, and it's obvious.

She seems to take everything that anyone says as optional. And it's so painfully fake it makes me want to do things that I know I shouldn't do.

Last night, she met up with some random group of guys hanging around the shopping center type place that my friend normally hang out. Ashleigh and I were the only girls, and there were four of our close guy friends. Ashleigh thinks it's a good idea to run off with these guys, "just to piss you guys off".

Which, in retrospect, makes absolutely no sense at all.

So, later, we find her walking arm in arm with one of these guys, looking all cutesy and happy and innocent.

Time for me to go home.

As I'm leaving, I subtly note to her to take it easy and know where her morals lie. She just kind of laughs and says, "Yeah."

When I get home, my absolutely amazing friend Cole, who has been with me through the thickest and thinnest of every obstacle one can encounter through hypothetical marriage, tells me what exactly went down with Ashleigh and this guy.

Apparently, they made out and he kinda felt her up. But, as a direct quote from her, "i didnt let him do anythin else cuz i thot youd be disappointed in me".

Cole, who used to date Ashleigh, is very protective of his friends. I'm so incredibly amazed by Cole. He knows where he stands, and I'm so jealous of him. He seems to be one of the only people I know that I can hold both an extremely intelligent and meaningful conversation, or a absolutely crazy conversation with. He's that balanced.

Cole and I discussed this last night through long, long MySpace messages. After reading Ashleigh and Cole's conversation, it was obvious to see where Ashleigh was kind of spiraling downwards. She's changed, and it's so obvious.

Once again, what did I do wrong.

As if we wouldn't be disappointed in what she HAD done and not just what she had yet to do. It's like a fatal democratic situation.

And I did discover something else in my malice:

When the cops say, "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law", they mean it.

Everything that Ashleigh has said since last night has been used against her.

In this, my court-of-law of a prison-of-a-head, I've judged all of my friends to a certain extent and I've pushed them to the outer limits of my tolerance. I can't stand the way Ashleigh wears her eyeliner and tells everyone how hardcore she is. I can't stand the way that a certain few of my unnamed friends who still are under my radar and wing need me every waking second to protect them from the big bad football players when they get called emo. I can't stand it.

As I was standing in my kitchen today, wondering when we bought bananas, I realized how terribly alone and even more cynical of everyone else if I didn't have them at all.

If I sic the Karma Police on these people because they talk in maths and buzz like a fridge, I would essentially be hurting myself in the process.

As I said before, I worry when my friends go under. That's when I take blame that I probably don't deserve but am too humble to admit it.

And, by the way, Kindergarten told us how to share. I think they shouldn't have left out the lesson where stubbornness and humility, morals and ethics, patience and grace blur together and what to do about it.