Put Out The Fire, Boys.

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.

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.

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...

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?

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.

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.

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.