I really don't know what to write about, but I feel like I need to write. Usually I come here, start typing, and I wind up writing a lot, but it's not working for me since my last post. I think it's because I have/had five days off from school, so I basically shut down and stopped doing anything except reading, watching movies, and listening to music. Oh, and celebrating Thanksgiving. But on Thanksgiving, all I did was read anyway. I finished The Truth About Forever and started This Lullaby. My family is extremely loud in general, and when they're all talking at the same time, it gets almost unbearable, but somehow I was able to focus.
So I guess this blog is just about what's been going on in the past few days. Aside from Thanksgiving, I had a sort of blowout with a close friend. At the beginning of this week, she found out that this guy named Alan likes her, and she doesn't like him back. First of all, she's supposed to like this guy named Ryan, or so she tells me. The reason she broke up with her boyfriend is because she said she "used him to get over Ryan, and I don't love Ryan, but still, it's not fair." So she is all squirmish around Alan. Then, the next day, she is talking to my sister online and telling her how she is upset because apparently she liked Alan for weeks now but when she confronted him about it, he said he didn't like her as anything more than a friend. Hmm, so we're close friends? Thanks for not telling me that, honey. I'm tired of the "I thought you would get mad" excuse, because when you get right down to it, the two of us have no real friendship, I have some issue with myself, where I can't tell her anything I'm feeling or thinking, and obviously she can't tell me anything either. All we talk about is Tyler or Jack's Mannequin, because we have nothing else to talk about. Or she'll tell me some stupid marching band story and I'll tell her some random story and neither of us are really listening, but we just keep talking and going on like this. Ever since we went from casual school friends to close, almost best friends, we've had conflicts. A lot of them. Every few months it happens. And it's usually over something dumb and we stop talking and spending time together. Eventually everything heals up, but we never solve the problem, we put it behind us, which unfortunately means it's not really solved. I'm done with her. I really am. I told her that, and while she's across the goddamn country in California, she texts my sister asking if I'm still mad at her. Okay, so that's considerate, I guess. She's across the country and she's thinking about me. But then when my sister explains what's going on, and how I don't want to deal with her anymore, she says, "Well we'll just talk when I get back."
...
The point of this was so that I don't have to talk to you when you get back. Do you know why? Because then we'll forget about it, and the cycle will start over again. She kept saying how she wasn't going to let this go, like I don't have the ability to cut something off on my own and make a decision. She keeps saying how it's ridiculous I hate her all of a sudden (which I don't, but I did spring this on her). I explained to her how I felt about the situation and she keeps clinging. Then she says, "I'm not letting her ruin my trip."
...You're the one who texted my sister.
"Tell Laura I laughed and said goodbye."
Oh, so now this is a joke to you? Five minutes ago you were freaking out. Good one.
SO in other news, I saw Twilight again with my mother because she wanted to see it. Before the movie started I told her this book is the reason I am so screwed up with boys. Ever since reading it years ago, at a very young age, all the boys seemed immature and incompetent. No one was my Edward Cullen. I mean, sure, there were attractive guys, but they were nothing special. They were too goofy and didn't care enough. I could never find someone I could really love, and when I did, it turned out badly. (Side note: I almost thought I left Tyler behind and then a picture of him comes up on my Facebook home page today and all my barriers fell. So much for that.)
So now my mother understands my problem, but I'm going to continue having problems if I'm only accepting my Edward Cullen. I'll have to lower my standards and settle for less, apparently.
As if God wanted to prove my point about guys my age (I decided to use those two words because, Arthur, if you're reading this, you are completely excluded. None of this is towards you. You're not one of these kinds of guys cos, well, you're just too great.) behind immature and aggravating, five minutes before the movie starts, this group of people comes in. It looked like a mother and her daughter and son, but the son didn't want to be dragged to this movie alone, so he brought, oh say, four friends. The whole goddamn theater is empty and they decide to sit next to me. Great. They mocked it before the movie, saying in girlish voices, "Ohmygawd guys, I've been waiting to see Edward's sexy body for sooo longgg nowww...I can't believe it's finally here." Really. shut the fuck up, boys. You're only making me lose more faith in you. They continued throughout the whole movie, and not to mention this guy next to me, his goddamn elbow was in my personal bubble. I was ready to smack someone.
BUT about the movie, I liked it more the second time. I was able to take it more seriously, although the awkward and funny-when-they're-not-supposed-to-be parts were still sort of visible. I think they always will be, I'll just be able to look beyond that and recognize that it's not a horrible film at all.
It's honestly almost depressing. Just like the book, the movie made me want my Edward Cullen. I loved that he wasn't there just to see how far he could go with Bella and all, I loved that he was so devoted to her. I loved that they could just talk about each other, find out more about each other, and it was alright. You don't always have to be doing something exciting with someone to enjoy their company. It makes me depressed because sometimes I doubt there's anyone out there like that. For me, at least.
The music in the movie is pretty great too. I put the soundtrack on my Christmas list and listened to most of the songs on YouTube. "Eyes On Fire" by The Blue Foundation and "Flightless Bird, American Mouth" by Iron & Wine really got to me. The Iron & Wine song made me cry. Just the way the lyric, "Have I found you?" sounds, I could die of sorrow when I hear it. I like the Paramore songs a lot too, which is a pleasant surprise, considering I'm not a major fan of them anymore. It seems like the whole album has so much emotion.
And before I post this, heeeere is a shout out to Amber, who I had a pleasant two and a half hour phone conversation with tonight. I really do wish you lived closer. It's really sad. Then we could have freaked out over Emmett Cullen creepin' on us together. :)
I guess this post wasn't such a blank after all.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Yay For Thanksgiving
Not that I really like Thanksgiving anyway.
Not that's it even Thanksgiving yet.
It's just, I'm off from school until Monday now, and my house is set up for Thursday, so I'm ready for it. I like Thanksgiving but not because of the holiday itself...if that makes any sense. I like it because it's a short break from school, and my whole house changes. We have the family over our house on Thanksgiving and the kitchen table is moved next to the dining room table. Both of those are set up with fancy plates and glasses, and we take another table from the garage and move it into the place where the kitchen table used to be. I don't know why, but I like that. It's still the same house, but it has a different feel. I like the anticipation of waiting for company or waiting for a holiday to arrive. It's almost half the fun of the event itself.
I love the way my house feels afterwards, too. During the get together, everyone is loud (I mean, my family is Italian, we get pretty loud) and a little drunk. The football game is always on the television with the volume turned up too high because all the loud talking and lack of decent hearing in the older family members makes it impossible to hear. Everything is chaos, but it's a good sort of chaos, because there's nothing stressful about it. But once everyone leaves, it's like the whole house is taking this sigh of relief. My house still feels crowded even though it's empty and quiet, aside from the shuffling of my parents from room to room. It's the best time to watch a good movie and eat leftovers. Hahah.
On a random side note, I'm coughing my lungs up. I feel better, and my cold is going away for the MOST part, but the cough is sticking. My throat is just kind of tickly, and that's the worst.
And another random side note, I think everyone needs to go find tonight's episode of House and watch it. That is some intense shit right there. I was yelling at my television.
Not that's it even Thanksgiving yet.
It's just, I'm off from school until Monday now, and my house is set up for Thursday, so I'm ready for it. I like Thanksgiving but not because of the holiday itself...if that makes any sense. I like it because it's a short break from school, and my whole house changes. We have the family over our house on Thanksgiving and the kitchen table is moved next to the dining room table. Both of those are set up with fancy plates and glasses, and we take another table from the garage and move it into the place where the kitchen table used to be. I don't know why, but I like that. It's still the same house, but it has a different feel. I like the anticipation of waiting for company or waiting for a holiday to arrive. It's almost half the fun of the event itself.
I love the way my house feels afterwards, too. During the get together, everyone is loud (I mean, my family is Italian, we get pretty loud) and a little drunk. The football game is always on the television with the volume turned up too high because all the loud talking and lack of decent hearing in the older family members makes it impossible to hear. Everything is chaos, but it's a good sort of chaos, because there's nothing stressful about it. But once everyone leaves, it's like the whole house is taking this sigh of relief. My house still feels crowded even though it's empty and quiet, aside from the shuffling of my parents from room to room. It's the best time to watch a good movie and eat leftovers. Hahah.
On a random side note, I'm coughing my lungs up. I feel better, and my cold is going away for the MOST part, but the cough is sticking. My throat is just kind of tickly, and that's the worst.
And another random side note, I think everyone needs to go find tonight's episode of House and watch it. That is some intense shit right there. I was yelling at my television.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Flashback
This is reminding me of the first post I ever made in this blog. It's a Sunday afternoon, and I can't focus on ANYTHING. I have to read about goddamn cell membranes for biology, read more for insights, study for three tests, and then watch the news at 6:30. It's because we're having a quiz in insights and the three extra credit questions are always on the news. I tried doing my biology homework last night, and that didn't work. Lately I've felt tired all the time, so basically I sat around last night and watched movies. This is why I hate being sick. I'm not the kind of person that can sit around all day and get nothing done. I need to be somewhat productive. I need to be doing something. Being sick usually prevents me from doing anything. Chaining myself to a couch or bed is torturous.
Now I can't even remember what I came here to talk about.
I don't know.
Random, but today I watched 27 Dresses because it was on TV and there was nothing else decent on. I didn't want to watch it, really. I had it on while I was eating lunch, but it was actually good. I was surprised I enjoyed it. It was predictable, but that didn't take away from its charm.
...
This isn't working.
I need to get something done.
Now I can't even remember what I came here to talk about.
I don't know.
Random, but today I watched 27 Dresses because it was on TV and there was nothing else decent on. I didn't want to watch it, really. I had it on while I was eating lunch, but it was actually good. I was surprised I enjoyed it. It was predictable, but that didn't take away from its charm.
...
This isn't working.
I need to get something done.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Yes I Am Going to Talk About Twilight. SUCK IT.
So I saw Twilight earlier tonight. For background information on my history with the series, I received Twilight four Christmases ago, in a Gap box. My parents always did that sort of thing, so I never knew when they got me a book. It never worked because I ended up rattling the boxes. Anyway, I was young, but I was pretty into it. I liked it a lot, and couldn't wait for New Moon to come out. I am also protective, as most people know, and enjoyed the fact that the book felt like it was mine, in a way. I only had one friend who read it, because of my suggestion, and no one else cared. We read New Moon in 8th grade, two years ago, and I remember her leaning over every day during Spanish class and whispering, "Did Bella jump off the cliff yet?" The two of us had a strange relationship with the series. We loved it to the point where mocking it didn't necessarily mean we hated it. It was sort of like teasing a close friend. It didn't mean anything harmful. With Eclipse and Breaking Dawn, the series exploded, without warning, and I was bitter as all hell. Breaking Dawn not included (didn't even finish it, the book was so horrible), I still loved the series, I just wasn't goddamn insane. I would never admit how much I enjoyed it in public.
I was bitter about the idea of a movie too. My friend and I suggested standing in the middle of a road in Hollywood, just to protest against this movie. I went into it expecting it to be horrible. I was sick of all the goddamn girls in Twilight or Edward shirts, sick of all the media around the entire project.
In some ways, I was proved wrong. All of the characters fit. They really did. All of them. Everyone looked how they were supposed to look and the atmosphere was perfect. It was generally dark, which was expected, but the Cullens house was the perfect balance. Everything just fit like that. It was sharp. Even the graduation caps lined on the wall was a nice touch. Visually, the movie was exactly what I wanted. Everything else...not so much. Most of the acting was extremely flat, aside from, say, Emmett or Alice. Edward and Bella kept the same tone of voice and expression throughout the whole movie, and I swear to God, if Edward's eyes widened any more, or Bella's face twitched more when she talked, I was going to wet my pants laughing. It was a genuinely funny movie, but it had little substance. The jokes were great the first time around, but it's not going to be the kind of movie I'll watch over and over. It will get old easily. There were parts that weren't funny, but I laughed anyway. I couldn't help it.
Some of the most significant parts were overdramatic, even the first two minutes. I loved the movie opening with the deer, with it being such an important symbol. Although I don't know if anyone else picked up on this, I figured the deer was a symbol of Bella and her innocence. Deer are always considered innocent animals, as if accidentally hitting a deer with your car is ten times worse than hitting another animal. I liked how right before the story started, the deer was taken away by someone who looked a lot like Edward. I might be wrong about that, but it relates to how everyone thought Edward was going to hurt Bella, and kill her or get her killed. Like how in that first minute of the movie, when the deer took off running, I was sure it was going to be killed. But it wasn't, it was just taken away. By keeping Bella human, Edward was attempting to preserve this innocence and purity she had. That first two minutes was so important, but it was overdone. It looked overdramatic, such as the part when the Cullens first appear. We don't need slow motion to see them clearly. The "suspenseful" moments were too much.
However, the last scene, the scene we're they're dancing outside at the prom, that part really moved me. The feeling I was hoping to get throughout the whole movie came in those last five minutes. It wasn't boring, but it wasn't overdone. It ended on a really great note, setting the stage for New Moon without getting too far into it.
With the characters and setting being amazing but everything else being almost weak, I'd say the movie was alright. Decent, and quite entertaining, depending on your mood. It will never be amazing and timeless, like Harry Potter, but that doesn't mean it's horrible.
I was bitter about the idea of a movie too. My friend and I suggested standing in the middle of a road in Hollywood, just to protest against this movie. I went into it expecting it to be horrible. I was sick of all the goddamn girls in Twilight or Edward shirts, sick of all the media around the entire project.
In some ways, I was proved wrong. All of the characters fit. They really did. All of them. Everyone looked how they were supposed to look and the atmosphere was perfect. It was generally dark, which was expected, but the Cullens house was the perfect balance. Everything just fit like that. It was sharp. Even the graduation caps lined on the wall was a nice touch. Visually, the movie was exactly what I wanted. Everything else...not so much. Most of the acting was extremely flat, aside from, say, Emmett or Alice. Edward and Bella kept the same tone of voice and expression throughout the whole movie, and I swear to God, if Edward's eyes widened any more, or Bella's face twitched more when she talked, I was going to wet my pants laughing. It was a genuinely funny movie, but it had little substance. The jokes were great the first time around, but it's not going to be the kind of movie I'll watch over and over. It will get old easily. There were parts that weren't funny, but I laughed anyway. I couldn't help it.
Some of the most significant parts were overdramatic, even the first two minutes. I loved the movie opening with the deer, with it being such an important symbol. Although I don't know if anyone else picked up on this, I figured the deer was a symbol of Bella and her innocence. Deer are always considered innocent animals, as if accidentally hitting a deer with your car is ten times worse than hitting another animal. I liked how right before the story started, the deer was taken away by someone who looked a lot like Edward. I might be wrong about that, but it relates to how everyone thought Edward was going to hurt Bella, and kill her or get her killed. Like how in that first minute of the movie, when the deer took off running, I was sure it was going to be killed. But it wasn't, it was just taken away. By keeping Bella human, Edward was attempting to preserve this innocence and purity she had. That first two minutes was so important, but it was overdone. It looked overdramatic, such as the part when the Cullens first appear. We don't need slow motion to see them clearly. The "suspenseful" moments were too much.
However, the last scene, the scene we're they're dancing outside at the prom, that part really moved me. The feeling I was hoping to get throughout the whole movie came in those last five minutes. It wasn't boring, but it wasn't overdone. It ended on a really great note, setting the stage for New Moon without getting too far into it.
With the characters and setting being amazing but everything else being almost weak, I'd say the movie was alright. Decent, and quite entertaining, depending on your mood. It will never be amazing and timeless, like Harry Potter, but that doesn't mean it's horrible.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Quick Stop
This one is going to be short and fast, since I have so much time. It's kind of weird because usually I write long blogs when I have too much to do and I'm trying to procrastinate. Tonight I don't have a lot of homework. I'm done, in fact, and I didn't start till 5. So I'm going to go read and hopefully not fall asleep by accident.
I just stopped quickly to commit to paper this thought that's been running through my mind the past few days or so:
I feel like, as we grow older, (my friends, the people I go to school with, etc.) I feel like everyone's beginning to pair off, and I won't find a partner. It's happening, slowly, but it's happening.
Maybe I don't need a goddamn partner.
Maybe it's too early to worry about this.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
First Time
I'm at school, and on one of the laptops in my Journalism class. The journalism I and II kids are all meshed into one class, but my class only has five kids anyway. We had eight to start, but three of them dropped, one being one of my close friends. But I'm not bitter about that anymore. Bottom line is, we have five kids in the class. There's two more today, cos the school paper is coming out soon, meaning the editors are rushing to get their sections and pages done. My teacher is showing the journalism I kids how to use In Design and lay out pages. I mean, they're not kids. Two of them are seniors, but I call everyone a kid. I don't mean to. Gosh, I keep getting off track.
Anyway, this is my first time ever going on Facebook and whatnot at school. I'd never done it before, honest to God. But I finished all my work for this class, I already laid out my page and fixed one of the other pages in the section, and I did all my homework. So far, I have no homework tonight except take some more pictures to be safe, and possibly edit my CAPT practice essay for insights. It's not due until December, but mine is already finished and typed up. My friend is editing it next period, in insights class. So now I have nothing to do. Nothing. It feels pretty good, but I feel bad sitting here behind my teacher's back, doing exactly what is not allowed in school. I feel somewhere between bad and badass. I doubt my teacher would even mind if he saw me. He may right now. He's five feet to my right. But he doesn't really care. I'm a good student, so a day or two off isn't going to kill me. I'm not interrupting him.
I'm thinking I might watch a movie tonight, to relax, because I have time on my hands, and that feels good, for sure. But there's other stuff I should be doing. I want to finish my book, possibly start another one, maybe write some more, and I should walk too. I haven't walked in a long time. I used to walk a mile and a half every day, almost compulsively, but it's been so damn cold lately. I complain during the summer and say I'd rather have it be cold outside, but if you want to know the truth, I hate cold weather too. I'd rather have it be cold than hot. That much is true, but still, that doesn't mean I don't hate cold weather. I went up my grandparents' house for a few days to walk on the treadmill, but I stopped. No particular reason, I just did.
So I don't know what I'm going to do with myself tonight. I guess I'll figure that out tonight.
This blog has turned into a useless ramble.
To continue the rambling, I have an organizational meeting for indoor track afterschool today.
I fucking hate indoor track.
You don't even know.
I don't know if I've ever hated anything like I hate indoor track. My dad bothered me to no end last year, to get me to join, and I did, just to shut him up. I told him I would join and keep a goddamn open mind about it, alright? Are you happy now?
Well I joined, and I stuck to it, all the way through. I even went to all the meets and barely missed a practice unless I had to. I didn't even cut corners during practice, like my friends did.
But I still hated it.
And my dad still wants me to do it. My damn weight isn't an issue. That was his excuse, that I needed indoor track to keep my weight in check, but over the summer, I didn't do any sports. Not even softball. And you know, mister, I lost nine pounds. On my own, just to shove it in his overweight face.
But I still have to do indoor track.
This year, there are tryouts, which never happened before. Before it was just, hey, you want to join, come on, join. No tryouts, no running test, and all. This year apparently there are try outs. I don't exactly know how to feel about that. I'm happy because I highly doubt I will make the team. I'm not a horrible runner or anything, but when I do run, I might as well have, "I HATE THIS" written across my forehead. I mean it. I look miserable. Maybe they'll put me out of my misery and not put me on the team.
My dad might hate me forever, but that's alright.
When my mom told me there were tryouts this year, she said it's alright if I don't make it. I have a feeling she's as far on my side as she'll ever be.
Bell's going to ring soon, so I'm out. This ramble prevented me from getting to JM.org, but whatever. As I said, I have time tonight. Hopefully I won't accidentally fall asleep for two hours again.
I'll post the rest of my favorite photos here later. And my last video is going up on Facebook tonight.
Just so you know.
Anyway, this is my first time ever going on Facebook and whatnot at school. I'd never done it before, honest to God. But I finished all my work for this class, I already laid out my page and fixed one of the other pages in the section, and I did all my homework. So far, I have no homework tonight except take some more pictures to be safe, and possibly edit my CAPT practice essay for insights. It's not due until December, but mine is already finished and typed up. My friend is editing it next period, in insights class. So now I have nothing to do. Nothing. It feels pretty good, but I feel bad sitting here behind my teacher's back, doing exactly what is not allowed in school. I feel somewhere between bad and badass. I doubt my teacher would even mind if he saw me. He may right now. He's five feet to my right. But he doesn't really care. I'm a good student, so a day or two off isn't going to kill me. I'm not interrupting him.
I'm thinking I might watch a movie tonight, to relax, because I have time on my hands, and that feels good, for sure. But there's other stuff I should be doing. I want to finish my book, possibly start another one, maybe write some more, and I should walk too. I haven't walked in a long time. I used to walk a mile and a half every day, almost compulsively, but it's been so damn cold lately. I complain during the summer and say I'd rather have it be cold outside, but if you want to know the truth, I hate cold weather too. I'd rather have it be cold than hot. That much is true, but still, that doesn't mean I don't hate cold weather. I went up my grandparents' house for a few days to walk on the treadmill, but I stopped. No particular reason, I just did.
So I don't know what I'm going to do with myself tonight. I guess I'll figure that out tonight.
This blog has turned into a useless ramble.
To continue the rambling, I have an organizational meeting for indoor track afterschool today.
I fucking hate indoor track.
You don't even know.
I don't know if I've ever hated anything like I hate indoor track. My dad bothered me to no end last year, to get me to join, and I did, just to shut him up. I told him I would join and keep a goddamn open mind about it, alright? Are you happy now?
Well I joined, and I stuck to it, all the way through. I even went to all the meets and barely missed a practice unless I had to. I didn't even cut corners during practice, like my friends did.
But I still hated it.
And my dad still wants me to do it. My damn weight isn't an issue. That was his excuse, that I needed indoor track to keep my weight in check, but over the summer, I didn't do any sports. Not even softball. And you know, mister, I lost nine pounds. On my own, just to shove it in his overweight face.
But I still have to do indoor track.
This year, there are tryouts, which never happened before. Before it was just, hey, you want to join, come on, join. No tryouts, no running test, and all. This year apparently there are try outs. I don't exactly know how to feel about that. I'm happy because I highly doubt I will make the team. I'm not a horrible runner or anything, but when I do run, I might as well have, "I HATE THIS" written across my forehead. I mean it. I look miserable. Maybe they'll put me out of my misery and not put me on the team.
My dad might hate me forever, but that's alright.
When my mom told me there were tryouts this year, she said it's alright if I don't make it. I have a feeling she's as far on my side as she'll ever be.
Bell's going to ring soon, so I'm out. This ramble prevented me from getting to JM.org, but whatever. As I said, I have time tonight. Hopefully I won't accidentally fall asleep for two hours again.
I'll post the rest of my favorite photos here later. And my last video is going up on Facebook tonight.
Just so you know.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Hammers and Strings - 11/16/08
I don't think the day could have gone any better. For days before, it poured, and all I could imagine was myself sitting in the rain outside Toad's Place for hours on end. I had done it for an hour and a half while waiting for Cobra Starship, and it was not the funnest time in the world. Thankfully, the rain stopped the night before, and it was sunny as all hell on Sunday morning. It took months to convince my parents to leave at 12, because I wanted to get there for 12:30 and they, obviously, did not. All worked out in the end.
I practically jumped into the backseat of the car, confirmation emails and sloppily written directions spread out in the backseat next to me. I attempted to find a small spot for my bag and eventually shoved it against the other door. Up in the front seat, my parents were arguing about something as my dad set up the GPS. Finally I realized my mom was addressing me.
"Laura," she was repeating. "Where's The Glass Passenger?"
"Oh, not that album again..." my dad moaned. He was being overdramatic and knew it, because he sincerely liked that album. He was just giving us a hard time for using him as our personal taxi driver.
"Shut up, Will," my mom snapped. I had heard that tone of a voice from her too much lately, but this time I laughed. I was laughing at a lot of things today, things that weren't even funny. But there wasn't really anything wrong with that. I laughed when the GPS said the arrival time was exactly 12:30, and I laughed when I got out of the car in the parking lot and realized just how damn cold it was.
We were 8th in line, which was alright with me.
My mom and I spent an hour and a half cuddled underneath a heavy blanket while my father walked around the shops, keeping warm as we froze our asses off. People stared at us as if we were homeless, which I found pretty funny. After an hour and a half, my dad hung in line while my mom and I went to Barnes and Noble. I insisted we get back in line by 3:30, which she had a tough time understanding, and I didn't fully understand either. I had always had a feeling that 3:30 was a good time for band members to come out, ever since Poughkeepsie. Sure enough, five minutes after we got back in line, I saw almost everyone. Casper, Bobby, Dr. J, and Jay Mac walked back and forth every few minutes. We watched Treaty of Paris pull in with their van and walk into the building, and Nate arrived alone an hour or so later. He was much smaller and skinnier than I imagined, a trait my mom called being "drug addict thin." I'll admit I laughed when almost every band member couldn't find their way into the building, They all tried the front entrance instead of the other door fifteen feet to the left. It was hidden, pushed back into the wall, so they all missed it, and when they didn't, it was locked. Bobby pulled out his cell at one point and called someone inside the building to let them in, but by the time the guy came to open the door, he had walked away. The poor was standing there saying, "Where's Bobby? Where'd Bobby go?"
I kept laughing and feeling bad after, but I bet I looked pretty foolish with a big hoodie and a heavy blanket wrapped around me like a cocoon. I brought more than one book, but my hands were so cold I couldn't take them out of my sleeves.
So they had all the rights in the world to laugh at me.
Nate walked around by his lonesome more than anyone else, in and out of the building, up and down the street, for over an hour. Gosh, he looked so sad and serious, and I wanted to say something, anything, maybe just a "hey Nate, how are you?" but I couldn't. I always got quiet in front of band members, even when they were directly in front of me, especially they were right in front of me. So I never said anything, and when one girl did, he stopped to talk. He had the greatest smile that, in turn, made me smile, even though my teeth were chattering like madmen. He told us were were all crazy for sitting out there, and half of me wanted to agree with him. I was crazy, and I knew it.
But I kind of liked it.
Andrew came out around 4. He walked by and said, "How are you guys? You holding up?" and then walked into the building. I figured that was as close as I was going to get to meeting him. Since it was a Sunday night and all, I wasn't allowed to hang around after the show, like I usually did. I had school the next day, not to mention an essay to write at 7:30 the next morning.
Thankfully, I was wrong. Somewhere around 5, my mom and I walked to a nearby cafe to use the bathroom. It took longer than I expected, partly because it was so goddamn warm in there, neither of us wanted to leave, and partly because there was no toilet paper in either of the bathrooms. I was red as hell when my mom went right up front to tell a worker, standing next to a guy who was ordering a drink and probably didn't care to know about the status of the toilet paper in the bathroom. But what was I going to do? I mean, after all, I did have to use the bathroom.
When we came out, the first ten people in line were in a small mob. I could see them from where I was, halfway down the street, and Casper was standing in the middle. Honestly, I thought there was something going on with tickets. I don't even know. I didn't suspect anything major, but I sort of ran over there anyway. Just to see what was going on. I heard my dad yell my name loudly, and all of sudden his hand was on my back and he was shoving me forward. I was still confused, but I looked up and realized I had almost pitched forward into Andrew. He was standing in front of me, mustache and all, with his hand extended. I shook his hand and he said, "How ya doin'?" I don't remember how I responded, or if I did at all, because my dad then said, "Andrew, this is my daughter, Laura."
I found out later that my dad had told Andrew, "We've been here since 12:30, but my daughter just went to the bathroom. Man, she is not gonna believe you came out!" He said that was too bad, but I came out in time. Andrew didn't even mind waiting a minute while I dug through my bag to find my camera, and waiting while my mom was confused to death by the camera.
All in all, it was an amazing day and an amazing night. Hammers and Strings was one of the only tours where I absolutely loved every band there. I wasnt sure how Treaty of Paris was going to be acoustic, but I really really enjoyed their set. They were all sweet guys and my friend and I already made a pact to see them again, no matter what. Same with Fun. Nate mentioned that there would be a full band and an upcoming album/tour, so I will definitely be there. I don't even feel the need to express how amazing Jack's was...it's sort of a given. The crowd got rougher than I expected they would be and for a moment I wondered what would happen if I broke a rib or something, being pushed so hard. Not to mention that goddamn elbow in my ear for ten minutes. Luckily, Andrew told the crowd the quit the shoving and pushing, because everyone in the front row was getting the worst of it.
I took way too many pictures (265, to be exact, which took five Facebook photo albums even when I deleted a few of the mess up shots). I called two people too, and it felt really good to know I sort of made their days with that. I have two pictures where Andrew is looking at the camera, and a couple great shots of Dr. J. I don't even understand how I get these pictures, because for the most part, I just point and click. These were some of the best concert photos I've taken though.
Everything fit together perfectly.
I had never felt more content, more at home, than I did right then. Nothing else mattered. Even if it only lasted one day, nothing else mattered except having an amazing night.
Those kinds of days are the best.
Most of the time, Jack's Mannequin shows are the few times I feel like I've found my place.
I practically jumped into the backseat of the car, confirmation emails and sloppily written directions spread out in the backseat next to me. I attempted to find a small spot for my bag and eventually shoved it against the other door. Up in the front seat, my parents were arguing about something as my dad set up the GPS. Finally I realized my mom was addressing me.
"Laura," she was repeating. "Where's The Glass Passenger?"
"Oh, not that album again..." my dad moaned. He was being overdramatic and knew it, because he sincerely liked that album. He was just giving us a hard time for using him as our personal taxi driver.
"Shut up, Will," my mom snapped. I had heard that tone of a voice from her too much lately, but this time I laughed. I was laughing at a lot of things today, things that weren't even funny. But there wasn't really anything wrong with that. I laughed when the GPS said the arrival time was exactly 12:30, and I laughed when I got out of the car in the parking lot and realized just how damn cold it was.
We were 8th in line, which was alright with me.
My mom and I spent an hour and a half cuddled underneath a heavy blanket while my father walked around the shops, keeping warm as we froze our asses off. People stared at us as if we were homeless, which I found pretty funny. After an hour and a half, my dad hung in line while my mom and I went to Barnes and Noble. I insisted we get back in line by 3:30, which she had a tough time understanding, and I didn't fully understand either. I had always had a feeling that 3:30 was a good time for band members to come out, ever since Poughkeepsie. Sure enough, five minutes after we got back in line, I saw almost everyone. Casper, Bobby, Dr. J, and Jay Mac walked back and forth every few minutes. We watched Treaty of Paris pull in with their van and walk into the building, and Nate arrived alone an hour or so later. He was much smaller and skinnier than I imagined, a trait my mom called being "drug addict thin." I'll admit I laughed when almost every band member couldn't find their way into the building, They all tried the front entrance instead of the other door fifteen feet to the left. It was hidden, pushed back into the wall, so they all missed it, and when they didn't, it was locked. Bobby pulled out his cell at one point and called someone inside the building to let them in, but by the time the guy came to open the door, he had walked away. The poor was standing there saying, "Where's Bobby? Where'd Bobby go?"
I kept laughing and feeling bad after, but I bet I looked pretty foolish with a big hoodie and a heavy blanket wrapped around me like a cocoon. I brought more than one book, but my hands were so cold I couldn't take them out of my sleeves.
So they had all the rights in the world to laugh at me.
Nate walked around by his lonesome more than anyone else, in and out of the building, up and down the street, for over an hour. Gosh, he looked so sad and serious, and I wanted to say something, anything, maybe just a "hey Nate, how are you?" but I couldn't. I always got quiet in front of band members, even when they were directly in front of me, especially they were right in front of me. So I never said anything, and when one girl did, he stopped to talk. He had the greatest smile that, in turn, made me smile, even though my teeth were chattering like madmen. He told us were were all crazy for sitting out there, and half of me wanted to agree with him. I was crazy, and I knew it.
But I kind of liked it.
Andrew came out around 4. He walked by and said, "How are you guys? You holding up?" and then walked into the building. I figured that was as close as I was going to get to meeting him. Since it was a Sunday night and all, I wasn't allowed to hang around after the show, like I usually did. I had school the next day, not to mention an essay to write at 7:30 the next morning.
Thankfully, I was wrong. Somewhere around 5, my mom and I walked to a nearby cafe to use the bathroom. It took longer than I expected, partly because it was so goddamn warm in there, neither of us wanted to leave, and partly because there was no toilet paper in either of the bathrooms. I was red as hell when my mom went right up front to tell a worker, standing next to a guy who was ordering a drink and probably didn't care to know about the status of the toilet paper in the bathroom. But what was I going to do? I mean, after all, I did have to use the bathroom.
When we came out, the first ten people in line were in a small mob. I could see them from where I was, halfway down the street, and Casper was standing in the middle. Honestly, I thought there was something going on with tickets. I don't even know. I didn't suspect anything major, but I sort of ran over there anyway. Just to see what was going on. I heard my dad yell my name loudly, and all of sudden his hand was on my back and he was shoving me forward. I was still confused, but I looked up and realized I had almost pitched forward into Andrew. He was standing in front of me, mustache and all, with his hand extended. I shook his hand and he said, "How ya doin'?" I don't remember how I responded, or if I did at all, because my dad then said, "Andrew, this is my daughter, Laura."
I found out later that my dad had told Andrew, "We've been here since 12:30, but my daughter just went to the bathroom. Man, she is not gonna believe you came out!" He said that was too bad, but I came out in time. Andrew didn't even mind waiting a minute while I dug through my bag to find my camera, and waiting while my mom was confused to death by the camera.
All in all, it was an amazing day and an amazing night. Hammers and Strings was one of the only tours where I absolutely loved every band there. I wasnt sure how Treaty of Paris was going to be acoustic, but I really really enjoyed their set. They were all sweet guys and my friend and I already made a pact to see them again, no matter what. Same with Fun. Nate mentioned that there would be a full band and an upcoming album/tour, so I will definitely be there. I don't even feel the need to express how amazing Jack's was...it's sort of a given. The crowd got rougher than I expected they would be and for a moment I wondered what would happen if I broke a rib or something, being pushed so hard. Not to mention that goddamn elbow in my ear for ten minutes. Luckily, Andrew told the crowd the quit the shoving and pushing, because everyone in the front row was getting the worst of it.
I took way too many pictures (265, to be exact, which took five Facebook photo albums even when I deleted a few of the mess up shots). I called two people too, and it felt really good to know I sort of made their days with that. I have two pictures where Andrew is looking at the camera, and a couple great shots of Dr. J. I don't even understand how I get these pictures, because for the most part, I just point and click. These were some of the best concert photos I've taken though.
Everything fit together perfectly.
I had never felt more content, more at home, than I did right then. Nothing else mattered. Even if it only lasted one day, nothing else mattered except having an amazing night.
Those kinds of days are the best.
Most of the time, Jack's Mannequin shows are the few times I feel like I've found my place.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
I Saw This Coming A Mile Away
I really did. I saw it. God.
I hope she breaks his fucking heart. I can't wait till she fucking graduates and dumps him like it was all nothing.
I hope it's all nothing.
I don't even care.
Yes I do, who am I kidding.
But it's not going to get to me today. I'm leaving for Toad's Place in exactly an hour and forty minutes and seeing Jack's Mannequin tonight.
I AM PUUMMPPPEEDDDD, even if I have to wait in line for six and a half hours. It will all be worth it.
I can save any breakdowns for tomorrow. Today, everything is on hold.
I'll be sure to take plenty pictures and videos. :)
Saturday, November 15, 2008
I Love Rain
The title of this blog has absolutely nothing to do with what I'm going to write, but I just figured I'd point it out. It's been raining and foggy for a few days now, and I love it. Especially when I'm in school and it's raining. I know that doesn't make much sense, but somehow it makes the school day easier to deal with. It makes things feel more comfortable. I should have worn my pajamas to school, or something. That would have been really nice.
Speaking of school, we started reading Catcher in the Rye in English class, and I'm almost halfway done. It's not due until Thursday, but whatever. I really like it. People either love it or hate it, my father being one of the latter, along with most of my friends. I really like it though. I noticed that there was no plot summary to be found, not on the back, and not on the inside either, but I think that's because there is no plot. I mean, there's obviously something going on the whole time, but the story is not centered around an event or problem like most books are. The book is more about the main character than anything else. I happen to like him a lot, too, even if he says, "I really am" way too much. It adds to his quirky character. I tend to like when characters have weird habits about them because it makes them seem more real. Because I doubt there's a person alive who doesn't have one bad habit, at the bare minimum.
This post was definitely not supposed to be about all that, but I got off track for a moment. I do that a lot. What I really wanted to write about was this strange and almost unsettling thought I had the other night. I went out with my dad to get dinner, and I don't mean a sit down restaurant and all that. I mean a take out place. I was sitting in the car because I don't really get out unless I have to. I'm there more for the car ride than anything else. So my dad went in Subway to pick up food for my sister, and when he came back he said he ran into the mother of my best friend for fives years. All through elementary school, this girl and I, we were best friends. Inseperable. I mean, my absolute best friends lives in Hamden, and my mom is best friends with her mom, and my sister is best friends with her sister, but for those reasons I consider her family. This girl whose mother my dad ran into, she was my best friend at home. Plus, it is possible to have more than one best friend. We never had a big fight, ever, I don't think. We were polar opposites for the most part, but we didn't even argue when we both had a crush on the same guy in fifth grade. We just giggled over him together. So I don't really understand why we stopped talking, but it happened. She stopped sitting next to me on the bus and I stopped calling her up. Pretty soon I stopped smiling, and she stopped making eye contact. We barely saw each other except in homeroom. This is how most of middle school and freshman year of high school went. I hung out with her for a full day one time, before 8th grade, because I said I missed her. She was going to only stay for two hours, but she ended up being with me the whole day. But still, after that one time, it was like nothing happened. We were back to ignoring each other.
Only when the mother of one of our mutual friends died did she talk to me. She called me first thing, but I wasn't home. Gosh, I wish she had my cell phone number or something. But she didn't and she just told my mom to inform me of her calling. It felt good to know I was the first one she thought to call. Later that night, she IMed me and said she wanted to talk. I was happy, but I thought, if it takes tragedy to get her to speak with me, then maybe I should forget those five years.
Recently I had a reunion sort of thing, with my old elementary school best friends, and she was there. We hit it off fine, and after a few minutes, it was like nothing changed. I told her some things I had only told my close friends. It was a fun time.
The next day she got on the bus and sat next to one of the other girls who was there, and they started talking and laughing. That was good.
But we haven't talked since. And when my dad told me she ran into her mother, and we drove past her house on the way home, I realized:
Sometimes I wish she was my best friend instead of my best friend I have now, from school. I'm not counting the bestbest friend from Hamden. I mean, my other one, the one from school. It's her birthday today too, the best friend from school. Gosh, I know that sounds horrible, but it's true. Half the time I'm kind of aggravated by her. I don't know why. I feel bad because our whole friendship revolves around her telling me stupid marching band stories about people I don't know and frankly, don't care about, and then her asking me about Tyler. I really try to tell her about other things, but when she asks about Tyler, I have to answer. Just the other day, the first thing she said was, "Did you see him today?"
I feel bad always talking to her about him, but she asks sometimes, for God's sake. And I have to sit through her stories. So it's an even trade. But it's nothing like the friendship I had for five years, back in elementary school.
I'm just being honest.
Speaking of school, we started reading Catcher in the Rye in English class, and I'm almost halfway done. It's not due until Thursday, but whatever. I really like it. People either love it or hate it, my father being one of the latter, along with most of my friends. I really like it though. I noticed that there was no plot summary to be found, not on the back, and not on the inside either, but I think that's because there is no plot. I mean, there's obviously something going on the whole time, but the story is not centered around an event or problem like most books are. The book is more about the main character than anything else. I happen to like him a lot, too, even if he says, "I really am" way too much. It adds to his quirky character. I tend to like when characters have weird habits about them because it makes them seem more real. Because I doubt there's a person alive who doesn't have one bad habit, at the bare minimum.
This post was definitely not supposed to be about all that, but I got off track for a moment. I do that a lot. What I really wanted to write about was this strange and almost unsettling thought I had the other night. I went out with my dad to get dinner, and I don't mean a sit down restaurant and all that. I mean a take out place. I was sitting in the car because I don't really get out unless I have to. I'm there more for the car ride than anything else. So my dad went in Subway to pick up food for my sister, and when he came back he said he ran into the mother of my best friend for fives years. All through elementary school, this girl and I, we were best friends. Inseperable. I mean, my absolute best friends lives in Hamden, and my mom is best friends with her mom, and my sister is best friends with her sister, but for those reasons I consider her family. This girl whose mother my dad ran into, she was my best friend at home. Plus, it is possible to have more than one best friend. We never had a big fight, ever, I don't think. We were polar opposites for the most part, but we didn't even argue when we both had a crush on the same guy in fifth grade. We just giggled over him together. So I don't really understand why we stopped talking, but it happened. She stopped sitting next to me on the bus and I stopped calling her up. Pretty soon I stopped smiling, and she stopped making eye contact. We barely saw each other except in homeroom. This is how most of middle school and freshman year of high school went. I hung out with her for a full day one time, before 8th grade, because I said I missed her. She was going to only stay for two hours, but she ended up being with me the whole day. But still, after that one time, it was like nothing happened. We were back to ignoring each other.
Only when the mother of one of our mutual friends died did she talk to me. She called me first thing, but I wasn't home. Gosh, I wish she had my cell phone number or something. But she didn't and she just told my mom to inform me of her calling. It felt good to know I was the first one she thought to call. Later that night, she IMed me and said she wanted to talk. I was happy, but I thought, if it takes tragedy to get her to speak with me, then maybe I should forget those five years.
Recently I had a reunion sort of thing, with my old elementary school best friends, and she was there. We hit it off fine, and after a few minutes, it was like nothing changed. I told her some things I had only told my close friends. It was a fun time.
The next day she got on the bus and sat next to one of the other girls who was there, and they started talking and laughing. That was good.
But we haven't talked since. And when my dad told me she ran into her mother, and we drove past her house on the way home, I realized:
Sometimes I wish she was my best friend instead of my best friend I have now, from school. I'm not counting the bestbest friend from Hamden. I mean, my other one, the one from school. It's her birthday today too, the best friend from school. Gosh, I know that sounds horrible, but it's true. Half the time I'm kind of aggravated by her. I don't know why. I feel bad because our whole friendship revolves around her telling me stupid marching band stories about people I don't know and frankly, don't care about, and then her asking me about Tyler. I really try to tell her about other things, but when she asks about Tyler, I have to answer. Just the other day, the first thing she said was, "Did you see him today?"
I feel bad always talking to her about him, but she asks sometimes, for God's sake. And I have to sit through her stories. So it's an even trade. But it's nothing like the friendship I had for five years, back in elementary school.
I'm just being honest.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
For Organizational Purposes
This might seem strange, but I tend to associate things with seasons, books and music mostly. Earlier I was looking for a book bring to school, in case I needed it, and found Merrick by Anne Rice. I have a lot of her books, the Vampire Chronicles, mostly, but I never got through it all the way. The Vampire Armand turned me off and I never got to Merrick. Seeing as I associate Anne Rice with winter in my mind, I figured it would be a good idea to get back into her books again
The only problem is, these are the authors whose books I was planning to read:
1. Sarah Dessen (already read Dreamland and That Summer.)
2. Chuck Palahniuk (already read Fight Club and Choke, although I need to reread Choke to figure out what those rocks symbolize.)
3. Jodi Picoult (already read Nineteen Minutes.)
4. Anne Rice (read most of hers, but I want to go through it again in order.)
I think winter break needs to come as soon as possible, so I can have more time. Pretty much all I do during winter break is read and write, and go outside. It's perfect.
OH AND AMBER JUST CALLED ME TWO MINUTES AGO AND I HEARD JACK'S MANNEQUIN PLAY WHAT GETS YOU OFF.
I AM IN TEARS,
I LOVE YOU, AMBER! <3
The only problem is, these are the authors whose books I was planning to read:
1. Sarah Dessen (already read Dreamland and That Summer.)
2. Chuck Palahniuk (already read Fight Club and Choke, although I need to reread Choke to figure out what those rocks symbolize.)
3. Jodi Picoult (already read Nineteen Minutes.)
4. Anne Rice (read most of hers, but I want to go through it again in order.)
I think winter break needs to come as soon as possible, so I can have more time. Pretty much all I do during winter break is read and write, and go outside. It's perfect.
OH AND AMBER JUST CALLED ME TWO MINUTES AGO AND I HEARD JACK'S MANNEQUIN PLAY WHAT GETS YOU OFF.
I AM IN TEARS,
I LOVE YOU, AMBER! <3
Hate Letter To Myself
Usually I'm here to rant about other people, but today I feel the need to rant about myself. Because honestly, I'm probably the cause of all my problems and insecurities. Oh, and I don't feel like studying for my bio quiz. I know I will, soon...just not now.
So anyway.
I don't understand why I can't let things go. Why I build attachments only to find out I can't detach myself, no matter how much I want to or how much I try. Yet at the same time, when it comes to writing and such, I can't seem to finish anything. I lose the connection and inspiration too fast. My newest story is going quite well, taking its time but steadily progressing, But I'm referring to my older stories, the ones that are still sitting there in my documents, unfinished and gathering more dust as each day goes by. I mean, as much dust as computer documents can gather.
I'm never satisfied with myself. I feel like every day is spent trying to mend my flaws, but the next morning I'm falling apart at the seams again. Nothing I do is ever up to my own standards. Am I skipping lunch because I'm not hungry or because I want to lose weight? I don't know anymore. I don't know if anything I think is the truth or if it's just my mind making an excuse. My friends yell at me when I don't eat lunch, or I don't eat when we go out, and they tell me to "shut up and eat, cos you're damn skinny as it is."
But I'm not. Are they trying to make me feel better about myself, or being honest?
I really really don't think I am skinny.
I'm frustrated that I can't lose weight.
I'm frustrated that I'm not taller.
I'm frustrated that I come home from school in a bitchy mood every day, just because I had a long day or I was in a bad mood and pretended to be happy so my friends weren't concerned.
I'm sorry my bitchy mood causes me to be a bitch to my family.
Sometimes I just want to be alone.
I'm also frustrated that I have the urge to lash out at my friends when they reach out and ask what's wrong because they care.
I mean, I love them. I wouldn't trade them for the world. Which is why I don't quite understand why I feel irritated.
This whole damn blog frustrates me because I can't just be happy with myself.
There.
Phew.
That was a nice release.
So anyway.
I don't understand why I can't let things go. Why I build attachments only to find out I can't detach myself, no matter how much I want to or how much I try. Yet at the same time, when it comes to writing and such, I can't seem to finish anything. I lose the connection and inspiration too fast. My newest story is going quite well, taking its time but steadily progressing, But I'm referring to my older stories, the ones that are still sitting there in my documents, unfinished and gathering more dust as each day goes by. I mean, as much dust as computer documents can gather.
I'm never satisfied with myself. I feel like every day is spent trying to mend my flaws, but the next morning I'm falling apart at the seams again. Nothing I do is ever up to my own standards. Am I skipping lunch because I'm not hungry or because I want to lose weight? I don't know anymore. I don't know if anything I think is the truth or if it's just my mind making an excuse. My friends yell at me when I don't eat lunch, or I don't eat when we go out, and they tell me to "shut up and eat, cos you're damn skinny as it is."
But I'm not. Are they trying to make me feel better about myself, or being honest?
I really really don't think I am skinny.
I'm frustrated that I can't lose weight.
I'm frustrated that I'm not taller.
I'm frustrated that I come home from school in a bitchy mood every day, just because I had a long day or I was in a bad mood and pretended to be happy so my friends weren't concerned.
I'm sorry my bitchy mood causes me to be a bitch to my family.
Sometimes I just want to be alone.
I'm also frustrated that I have the urge to lash out at my friends when they reach out and ask what's wrong because they care.
I mean, I love them. I wouldn't trade them for the world. Which is why I don't quite understand why I feel irritated.
This whole damn blog frustrates me because I can't just be happy with myself.
There.
Phew.
That was a nice release.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Untitled.
I know it's not
any of my business or anything
but I saw you leave with her
halfway through the game.
Football helmets cracked against one another
from behind
Smacking and running and cheering
exploding from the half empty stands
coated with rain
that stopped not so long ago.
Don't you see?
You're the only reason I'm here.
But all I could think about
was how that baseball cap
didn't look quite right
placed backwards on your head.
And I didn't look quite sure
as you got into her car.
You weren't home
when I came back either.
I know it's not
any of my business or anything
but I hope all of your blondes
get you home alright.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Weak in the Knees.
I don't care what anyone else says. "Lonely for Her" is, personally, a great Jack's Mannequin song, and possibly one of my favorites. I always related to it so well, I mean, if you change the "her" to "him." Particularly:
Andrew has always had this way of putting exactly what I'm feeling into words, but this hit the nail on the head. Exactly. And after today, I truly understand what he means by "uneasy and weak in the knees." As I said before, Tyler has been ignoring me for almost four weeks. I know I said I wasn't going to use his name, but fuck it, really. He's never going to read this. And even if he does, he doesn't care anyway. What does it really matter.
Anyway, lately I'd been growing increasingly frustrated with myself that I couldn't look at him. He would walk by, and my mind would turn cartwheels, debating whether or not to say hello or wave or smile or even make any eye contact at all. Usually, I made no eye contact. Usually, I hung my head, as if I had something to be ashamed of, and walked right on by. Let him walk right past me.
Today he was wearing yellow.
Boy, do I love yellow.
So my friend and I are standing by the podium, our normal meeting place before mine and his lunch and her band class. Most of the time she stayed until after the bell rang, risking punishment, to talk to me. She did the same today, except more. I saw Tyler across the commons, by the senior lounge, and knew that I would end up passing by him on the way to my table.Some part of me freaked out more than usual, and words started tumbling out of my mouth, saying stupid things like, "Shit, I can't do it! I can't walk by him! I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M GOING TO DO AHHH LOOK AT HIM."
My friend offered to walk me to my table, you know, for moral support, and as we reach out intersection point, Tyler raises his hand slightly, nods, and says, "Sup guys?" My friend told me that as he came closer, I began to squeeze her arm to death. I don't remember doing that, and I don't remember saying hello back, or whether my friend say anything back or not.
I just remember yelling a goodbye to her after she turned around, then walking mindlessly to my table. I stood over my chair for a moment, trying to pull out my homework, but my hands weren't cooperating anymore. I could feel my knees shaking and I quickly sat down, knowing I would fall if I remained standing.
I was giddy the entire lunch.
He only said hello because I wasn't alone.
The girl sitting across from me told me I was silly.
I'd like to think he looked me in the eye, though.
I am so silly.
"I'm uneasy
And I'm weak in the knees
And I'm trying not to breath
Not believing
Not believing you're gone
And that I was the one to let you..."
Andrew has always had this way of putting exactly what I'm feeling into words, but this hit the nail on the head. Exactly. And after today, I truly understand what he means by "uneasy and weak in the knees." As I said before, Tyler has been ignoring me for almost four weeks. I know I said I wasn't going to use his name, but fuck it, really. He's never going to read this. And even if he does, he doesn't care anyway. What does it really matter.
Anyway, lately I'd been growing increasingly frustrated with myself that I couldn't look at him. He would walk by, and my mind would turn cartwheels, debating whether or not to say hello or wave or smile or even make any eye contact at all. Usually, I made no eye contact. Usually, I hung my head, as if I had something to be ashamed of, and walked right on by. Let him walk right past me.
Today he was wearing yellow.
Boy, do I love yellow.
So my friend and I are standing by the podium, our normal meeting place before mine and his lunch and her band class. Most of the time she stayed until after the bell rang, risking punishment, to talk to me. She did the same today, except more. I saw Tyler across the commons, by the senior lounge, and knew that I would end up passing by him on the way to my table.Some part of me freaked out more than usual, and words started tumbling out of my mouth, saying stupid things like, "Shit, I can't do it! I can't walk by him! I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M GOING TO DO AHHH LOOK AT HIM."
My friend offered to walk me to my table, you know, for moral support, and as we reach out intersection point, Tyler raises his hand slightly, nods, and says, "Sup guys?" My friend told me that as he came closer, I began to squeeze her arm to death. I don't remember doing that, and I don't remember saying hello back, or whether my friend say anything back or not.
I just remember yelling a goodbye to her after she turned around, then walking mindlessly to my table. I stood over my chair for a moment, trying to pull out my homework, but my hands weren't cooperating anymore. I could feel my knees shaking and I quickly sat down, knowing I would fall if I remained standing.
I was giddy the entire lunch.
He only said hello because I wasn't alone.
The girl sitting across from me told me I was silly.
I'd like to think he looked me in the eye, though.
I am so silly.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
This is MY Story.
I have always and will always be a writer. Whether I commit anything to paper each day or not, there are always words running through my mind, forming descriptions of what is going on inside my head or in the world around me. It is natural instinct for me to get my release by writing, even if nothing is ever solved.
My problem is that I lose inspiration too quickly, and not long after a story idea forms in my mind, it's dismissed. Aside from writing this blog, I've been suffering from writer's block for a long time. "A long time" being since school started, or around there, and for me that's a long time. Consequently, I've been throwing around the idea of beginning a new story for a week or two, and finally, the other day, the perfect idea came to mind. The general idea, the characters, and the ending were all in my head, and it was pretty good. Which means it was actually pretty good, considering I am harder on myself than anyone else ever is on me. So this idea was turning itself over in my mind, and on Sunday morning, one of my close friends (the only friend I've ever had the courage to share my writing with, in fact), well, she calls me up on my cell phone, and asks if we can hang out. Sure, sure. I don't have a lot of homework. There's nothing better to do. Why not. Come over. Whenever you want.
So we're sitting there talking, her in my dad's office chair in front of the computer, and me cross-legged on my dad's desk. I don't remember what we were talking about, but it must have been something relevant, because I foolishly blurted, "I want to write something new." Or maybe we weren't discussing anything relevant at all, and I just needed to get that idea out into the open for others to consider as well. Whichever situation it is, I said that, and immediately regretted it afterwards.
My friend, she jumps to attention and begins spitting out questions.
"Really? What kind of story? Not a fanfiction?"
No. No, definitely not.
"Oh, well, that's alright, can my name still be the same though?"
I cringed like I had been slapped. I didn't say you were in this story. But of course, I didn't say that. I sat back and listened quietly as she took my idea and ripped it to bits.
"Who's your love interest? Or your love?"
Personally, I thought they were the same thing,
"Your love interest is your boyfriend. You know, who you're with. Your love is just what guy you love. You're not together or anything. I think this person should be your boyfriend. I want a happy ending."
....
It's times like these I wish I had the power to speed up time. Her mother couldn't arrive fast enough.
Dammit, don't you get it?
"Well, my mom is here. I'll write when I get home, and I'll call you later."
NO.
DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND.
THIS IS MY STORY.
I DON'T WANT YOU TOUCHING ANY OF THIS. I JUST WANT YOUR OPINION, AS A FRIEND, AND SOMEONE I'VE NEVER HAD A PROBLEM SHARING MY WRITING WITH.
But of course, I just walked her out the door.
Bye. Yeah, I'll talk to you later.
Thankfully, later that night, I managed to spill, online, that I wanted this story to be mine. So what, I'm selfish. You don't see JK Rowling letting other people write her stories for her.
But now, my friend says, "I'm just going to write my own story. Someone is going to die at the end. It's tragic. So good. Someone's got to die."
Actually, no. No one was planned to die in my story, and the ending tragically works. It works.
I'm happy she backed off, but now I can't seem to get started. She's been pressuring me to give her the details of my story, but I don't frigging want to. How many times do I have to tell you I can't before you stop asking.
Contrary to the childish rhyme, secrets secrets are no fun when you share with everyone.
Or even one single person.
My problem is that I lose inspiration too quickly, and not long after a story idea forms in my mind, it's dismissed. Aside from writing this blog, I've been suffering from writer's block for a long time. "A long time" being since school started, or around there, and for me that's a long time. Consequently, I've been throwing around the idea of beginning a new story for a week or two, and finally, the other day, the perfect idea came to mind. The general idea, the characters, and the ending were all in my head, and it was pretty good. Which means it was actually pretty good, considering I am harder on myself than anyone else ever is on me. So this idea was turning itself over in my mind, and on Sunday morning, one of my close friends (the only friend I've ever had the courage to share my writing with, in fact), well, she calls me up on my cell phone, and asks if we can hang out. Sure, sure. I don't have a lot of homework. There's nothing better to do. Why not. Come over. Whenever you want.
So we're sitting there talking, her in my dad's office chair in front of the computer, and me cross-legged on my dad's desk. I don't remember what we were talking about, but it must have been something relevant, because I foolishly blurted, "I want to write something new." Or maybe we weren't discussing anything relevant at all, and I just needed to get that idea out into the open for others to consider as well. Whichever situation it is, I said that, and immediately regretted it afterwards.
My friend, she jumps to attention and begins spitting out questions.
"Really? What kind of story? Not a fanfiction?"
No. No, definitely not.
"Oh, well, that's alright, can my name still be the same though?"
I cringed like I had been slapped. I didn't say you were in this story. But of course, I didn't say that. I sat back and listened quietly as she took my idea and ripped it to bits.
"Who's your love interest? Or your love?"
Personally, I thought they were the same thing,
"Your love interest is your boyfriend. You know, who you're with. Your love is just what guy you love. You're not together or anything. I think this person should be your boyfriend. I want a happy ending."
....
It's times like these I wish I had the power to speed up time. Her mother couldn't arrive fast enough.
Dammit, don't you get it?
"Well, my mom is here. I'll write when I get home, and I'll call you later."
NO.
DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND.
THIS IS MY STORY.
I DON'T WANT YOU TOUCHING ANY OF THIS. I JUST WANT YOUR OPINION, AS A FRIEND, AND SOMEONE I'VE NEVER HAD A PROBLEM SHARING MY WRITING WITH.
But of course, I just walked her out the door.
Bye. Yeah, I'll talk to you later.
Thankfully, later that night, I managed to spill, online, that I wanted this story to be mine. So what, I'm selfish. You don't see JK Rowling letting other people write her stories for her.
But now, my friend says, "I'm just going to write my own story. Someone is going to die at the end. It's tragic. So good. Someone's got to die."
Actually, no. No one was planned to die in my story, and the ending tragically works. It works.
I'm happy she backed off, but now I can't seem to get started. She's been pressuring me to give her the details of my story, but I don't frigging want to. How many times do I have to tell you I can't before you stop asking.
Contrary to the childish rhyme, secrets secrets are no fun when you share with everyone.
Or even one single person.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Today Was a Good Day
Technically, it wasn't a full day, considering I slept until 12:30, but what part of my day I experienced went well. So well, in fact, that I'm a little bummed it's over. I ate breakfast around 1, after showering while blasting Everything In Transit, and then I hung around for a bit. I went out to the mall for my mom for about 10 minutes. It was just to pick up something, but let me tell you, that is my kind of shopping. I went out with my dad later, to pick up something else, and saw a man with a shirt that said, "BACK THE FUCK UP" on the back.
There's something you'll only see in America, folks. It's rude an inappropriate, but I laughed. That's what I do in situations where I don't know exactly how to react. Maybe that's the wrong way of looking at things.
I also thought about how I tend to go places just for the ride rather than the destination. No one seems to understand that, but it's who goes through life to get to death? What happens during the journey is just as significant as the destination. If there's anything that doesn't take some sort of journey or determination to acheive, then it's not really a destination. It just is. It happens, and it becomes lumped together with every other moment in your life.
Anyway, moving on from that, the reason I went to pick up so many things was because my parents decided to have company over for my father's birthday, which was thirteen days ago. They're not our family, but I suppose it was my mother's last ditch effort to do something to make him feel worthy of attention. He whines when he gets no attention, but complains when we do something social.
It makes no sense.
So, the company was these family friends we've had for a while. My parents are friends with these other parents who are friends with OTHER parents...so they're all friends. And they all have kids, meaning we're forced to be friends with those kids. Typically, it starts off awkward between us youngens, and no one wants to be there, but after a while we all loosen up. That's basically what happened. It was quite a lot of fun, not to mention that my mother made my favorite dessert ever, and we have tons of leftovers. Plus, I love the feeling of my house after a special occasion. It's cleaner than usual and rearranged differently, but still the same home. It has a pleasantly relaxed feeling, sort of like how when a concert ends, everything is quiet, but you can still feel that steady hum in your ears and stamping drumbeat in your chest.
But now it is early Sunday morning, there's nothing halfway decent on television, and I still need more sleep. So that is what I'm off to accomplish. Monday puts a tiring week of school ahead of me, but Tuesday is off for election day, not that it will be a real day off.
We're finding out who will be the next President of this country.
How is that a true day off?
There's something you'll only see in America, folks. It's rude an inappropriate, but I laughed. That's what I do in situations where I don't know exactly how to react. Maybe that's the wrong way of looking at things.
I also thought about how I tend to go places just for the ride rather than the destination. No one seems to understand that, but it's who goes through life to get to death? What happens during the journey is just as significant as the destination. If there's anything that doesn't take some sort of journey or determination to acheive, then it's not really a destination. It just is. It happens, and it becomes lumped together with every other moment in your life.
Anyway, moving on from that, the reason I went to pick up so many things was because my parents decided to have company over for my father's birthday, which was thirteen days ago. They're not our family, but I suppose it was my mother's last ditch effort to do something to make him feel worthy of attention. He whines when he gets no attention, but complains when we do something social.
It makes no sense.
So, the company was these family friends we've had for a while. My parents are friends with these other parents who are friends with OTHER parents...so they're all friends. And they all have kids, meaning we're forced to be friends with those kids. Typically, it starts off awkward between us youngens, and no one wants to be there, but after a while we all loosen up. That's basically what happened. It was quite a lot of fun, not to mention that my mother made my favorite dessert ever, and we have tons of leftovers. Plus, I love the feeling of my house after a special occasion. It's cleaner than usual and rearranged differently, but still the same home. It has a pleasantly relaxed feeling, sort of like how when a concert ends, everything is quiet, but you can still feel that steady hum in your ears and stamping drumbeat in your chest.
But now it is early Sunday morning, there's nothing halfway decent on television, and I still need more sleep. So that is what I'm off to accomplish. Monday puts a tiring week of school ahead of me, but Tuesday is off for election day, not that it will be a real day off.
We're finding out who will be the next President of this country.
How is that a true day off?
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