Miscellania

A fortune teller once told me I was a free spirit and an old soul. I have never heard a more sincere truth.

I have not felt as pure, as wholesome, as carefree, as I do right now. I am water. I flipped through some issue of Life & Style from August, as P.S. I LOVE YOU played on HBO on demand. I am finally fucking free. Of all of the bullshit, the hidden egotistical motives. If I were a character in NBA Jams, I believe it would be said that I am "ON FIIIIREEEE!" Fuck you, and your numbers. Fuck you and your propositions. Fuck you and your confinement.

Porcelain white bright chalk sterile spit and saline swirl, old habits come crawling up the drain. Looking like the girl from the grudge, like bullets they hit me my thoughts the water from the shower head coughing choking spitting white wide pupil Sleeping sickness, walking tremors tremble, stumble. Bright teeth glaze ceramic body sobs and shakes Always attentive, always aware. Skeletons in my closet. White, bone, glare.

that my heart has just "broken." My hands are ice blocks. All of my organs have sunk into my shoes. You weren't strong enough. You still get the last laugh. Every noise sounds far away and indifferent. I will never see the sun the same way.

Everyone thinks I'm a pothead. Everyone assumes I'm so blasted, so out of my mind high I have no idea what's going on. If only this were the case. If only I did not have the self respect and intelligence to not "pass on the grass." If only I truly knew such absentmindedness, such obliviousness that will put these ghosts away. I am a prisoner in my own head, Oh, how original is this sorrow?

"I'm not who I used to be," For the first time, this thought doesn't scare me. Hanging upside down with my head off the bed, matted, unbrushed hair masked by a headband swinging like thousands of strand like pendulums. Composition notebooks, uncapped pens, received letters, sprawled in a circle surrounding me. Sitting indian style, I engross myself in writing to some of my dearest friends, speaking of school, holidays, and hopefulness. I've never been so curious and so self-assured. I'm happy just trying, even if goals simply remain just that. You can trust me with secrets.

everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle. I'm on Thanksgiving break. I have no plans, no goals, and no to do lists yet. I'll work on it. I want Christmas. I finished sex, drugs, and cocoa puffs. I might do a review. I don't know though. Sigh igh igh. Been thinking too much, been feeling left out a lot. I don't know. Everyone ignores what they see.

Maybe I don't exactly fit into any one group of kids, but maybe I don't want to. Maybe none of the work I do really matters in the grand scheme of things, but maybe I still do it because I like the sense of accomplishment, even if I'm the only one aware of my accomplishments. Maybe I'm not an Olsen twin. Maybe I talk to much at the wrong times, and never know what to say when I wished I did. Maybe I can't vote, can't drive, and can't tell you my backpack weighs under the accepted limit for freshman backpacks. Maybe I'm completely satisfied that I'm not "bohemian", "indie", or "scene". Maybe I'm just completely satisfied with spending my nights writing earth science notes. So what?

When we spoke for the first time, I lied when I told you I was doing good. When she 'checked up' on me I lied when I told her things were as they should be. When I slept in your shirt. I lied when I told myself it was just because it was comfortable.

When I saw you in the hallway, I almost projectile vomited on the kid I was standing with, who was probably too busy getting down with the sickness to even notice the sudden stiffness in my body language. I can never take back what happened between us, or the mistakes that I have made. You don't even remember me.

I was listening to ave maria as you described yourself as my love, and we spoke in synonyms about my eating disorder.

We danced around your kitchen to Michael Buble' and you made us heaps of pancakes. I felt right at home in the house where we shared our childhoods.

Chris Bunce thought the fossils looked like carrots, so he couldn't participate in class.

As the three of us giggly white girls bounded down the dirty streets of downtown Springfield, blasting jay-z's 99 problems, I realized how badly I was craving french toast.

It was while I was reading Lord of the Flies, at midnight, my step-father called me "Mi" and I realized I could never fully disconnect myself from you. Part of me never wants to.

& I've grown disgusted. Frustrated, tormented, and apprehensive. I'll say it again, like I said it but a few months ago, i know what it feels like to do everything in your power, just to make someone happy, and it seem like they don't appreciate or care at all over and over again. and then when you need it returned it never happens and when you really need something they're not there. You don't deserve to feel like that but neither do I. I don't know what you want me to do or how I should feel. I don't want to bum you out but I can't just sit around letting you hurt me because I care about you. I don't mean to insist you're doing something that you're really not trying to do but this is how I feel and I can't sacrifice it anymore. I 'm so worn out from trying to make you happy all the time, and you're not even my boyfriend or anything of the sort I've needed you and you haven't b...

And as I locked my door. I questioned for the first time if I was shutting something in, or keeping something out.

My self pity means nothing. My expectations mean nothing. Living and being are two seperate things. The message is in the cave. I left my sweater in your car. Can I get a picture? Dust in your hair, plastic eyes. We were diamonds and they mined us. By the time I've figured it out, the song has ended and we're going home.

My birthday was great. I received over 200$ from my mom/Steve, my dad, Kim, my mom's sister, Steve's mother, Elise, and my dad's sister/cousins. My mother also gave me a whole bunch of much needed makeup, The Sims 2 Apartment Life from Sam,Kelly gave me a new flannel shirt that I had picked out on one of our shopping trips, Alex gave me some candy and a card, my dad gave me an american apparel forest green hoodie that hasn't come in yet, Tiffany gave me some cupcakes that had H A P P Y B I R T H D A Y M I A written on them, which was very sweet and yummy at the same time. I also got other cards/signs from a lot of people from school, and countless birthday hugs. Overall, it was a really nice birthday, and I felt loved and appreciated by everyone. I had a small gathering with Steve, my mom, and A&K the night before my birthday, and a little diddly at my dad's with him, Kim, Broadie (of course) my dad's sister Sue, my cousin Sarah, Sue's boyfriend Ron, A...

Dear Friend, The story is spelling itself out, like a phantom at a piano. The french would say I've got it all right now, happiness, success, friendship, family, love. School is becoming a nuance, but what can you do? Oh, by the way. Yesterday was my 15th birthday. Weeeiiiird.

I live within music, so loud that it's hard to breathe. I live within the minds of a million different writers and thinkers. Each one as crazy as the last. I live within my own mind, like a cage with yarn bars. Somehow, I still just cannot get out. I'm still searching, you know. Everything is so typically 'high school'. "Are you going to homecoming?" "What are you wearing?" "Did you hear what she said to him on facebook?" Sigh.

Dear friend, I've been growing out my hair. I'm trying to stretch out my wings. Attempting to let down my guard. I've been at peace with the serpents. I hope all is well with you. Click your heels we're going home.

I'm still alive. These days It's sunny walks home at 4pm; making new friends; Realizing I've disappeared a bit. Taking pictures with a 35mm Vivitar Power Zoom, moccasin loafers. Having my mother be proud of me, taking good Earth Science notes. Listening to Wilco's Sky Blue Sky. Talking with Tiffany in my kitchen drinking Newman's own lemonade. Growing up and reconnecting with the kid in me. weekend: Friday: Sleeping over Sophia Smola's house. Saturday: Lunch with Ali Mraz Sunday: Big E with eelzy, jimmy/kimmy Mazz. I've watched 3 episodes of Ned's Declassified School Survival Guide, to mourn the break up of Cookie/Peter and I. Reading: Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs. (Thanks Tiff) I'll get back to prozac nation, this one just pulled me in.

In the way that some people will try to pinpoint an exact moment of their past, to remember what they felt, the smells, sights, and sounds of that very moment. It lives on forever within them, an eternal souvenir gleaming on a shelf in their mind. I want to pinpoint the moment in our future, when we collide. Skin on skin, heart on heart. I want to feel the way I will feel, the smells sights and sounds of that very moment. The moment you lay tangent to my curves, the second we intertwine. Even when being romantic, I still had to squeeze in a math joke. If you find it, let me know. I find it hard to believe in things, but somehow, no matter what the problem, my philosophy is always "Things will work themselves out." I have come to realize, that they always do.

My eyelids are pink with insomnia. The truth is we're just two totally different people. I don't know where we're going, or if we'll ever intersect. The only thing you'll destroy is yourself. You can't have faith that things will get better. you have to hang on, even if it hurts you. I've gone about this wrong, tangled my emotions and myself within your tangled web. I want to save you, to pull you out, I want to breathe the life back into you. You've made your bed, now lay in it. I hope you sleep well alone.

Friend, I'm sorry. I can't do this. I start high school in three days. I have two novels to read, math and science packets to complete, laundry to do, some mental figuring out to do, loose ends to tie, a summer to conclude, things to worry about, letters to write. I can't fix your broken heart. I can't make someone else love you, nor can you. I can't shake you and breathe the life and hopefulness you once had back into you. I can't cure your loneliness. I can't stop you from putting a gun to your head. I don't know what you want from me, I am not a therapist. You deserve so much, that I am ready and willing to give you. You don't care who it's from, you just want to receive love. I can't just sit here and cry thinking about the possibility of you not being here. Once you've calmed down. You don't feel like talking. You just use me up, to talk to and shed this emotion on. I don't mind it. I'll do whatever it takes to make you ...

so i sit on the edge, of my sick brother's bed. he pats me on the back, in a struggling attempt to show how much he cares, but how the weight of his fatigue keeps him grounded. I want to die, i whisper to the dark, really no one at all. he tells me he needs me, and that i'm of good use. he's trying, and thats important to me, but i can't just sit and stay, so i turn and walk away, he mumbles something incoherently, and turns, nodding back to sleep. Take a left down the stairs, she'll show you all of the gray hairs, caused by me, my problematic capability. She screams at me, saying its how everyone feels Adolescense it just LIKE this. She hated her life as a kid. I tell her, this is what it's made up of. stop shifting these hatefilled memories, childhood tales, what teenagehood entails. i don't want to know, i want to sleep for a while. upstairs there's an artist. strumming on steel, scribbling on paper, he depicts these emotions, and uses this vice as a ...

I haven't been very disciplined about writing here this whole summer. I have no excuses, I'm just lazy, unproductive, and smelly. I went to my parents' camper with them, Elise, and my brother Derek for a few days. We met some really interesting people at this fair they were having. We bought a bag and filled it with some really strange knick-knacks for 1$. We met a wizard named Ed , who Elise and I tied the knot with. We met some kids around our age, and we watched Ed the wizard together. One of the kids, Patrick told me and Elise to find him on Myspace. For laughs we tried, but to no avail. We had a pretty nice time, but I wasn't feeling all that well, so we didn't kayak or anything. The day after we came home from Vermont, I went to Cape Cod with Elise's family. We had a really nice time, we went on a bike trail, played mini-golf, went to the mall, visited a glass blowing museum, and played taboo every night (Which Eelz and I pwn at, thank you very much.) I ha...

The summer seems to be going by pretty quickly, I've wasted all of my time. So, I've cemented the classes I am taking for high school in the fall. I'm taking french 1, ceramics 1, algebra 1, world history, environmental science, Honors English 1, etc. I think that's all of them. I'm taking ceramics in place of gym, thank you mom. I was going to take art 1, but the only art 1 class that I could get into is at the same time as my English class, so giant ceramic inappropriate obhects, here I come! (Pun unintended.) I still have to do my summer reading and packets. The Chosen by Chaim Potok, This I believe: The Personal Philosophies of Remarkable Men and Women, and A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson. I have a science packet to do on A Short History of Nearly Everything, and a math packet that I've been slowly doing a little bit of, I've forgotten so much already. It's a mess. I am going to do bad in school, namely because The Sims 2 has a ne...

Things to bring on vacation: Ipod, Camera, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, Pedro the Tiger, Clothes, Floss, Hair straightener, Sassy attitude, Batteries, Pencils, Cellphone & charger, Composition notebook, Lotion, DVDs: Almost Famous, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, et cetera. makeup, candy, Band hoodie of a band you listened to three years ago, but still own and like the hoodie. My best friend.

for you. -Do laundry -Clean up you room -Exercise -Shower -Read One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest -Begin to pack I'm going to Cape Cod with my mother, step-father, and Elise. If anyone can snap me out of this blah, it's Elise. I'll probably post pictures of that when we get back, and I'll post some other summer pictures next.

Killing time by drawing faces that stare back at me from the margins In a sea of 8 and a half by elevens I´m drowning in... Treading through run on sentences And sinking into empty text I´ll swallow the salt And spit a few dry words out Sometimes, music you're embarrassed of is so mint.

It's a decision, between my health and my happiness. I make it everyday, several times a day. Seeing other people that are more or less of something than I am, doesn't change that I am not happy with this. I am the only one who has to love me, but I don't know if I can. I'm itching for some sense of direction, and some help with these decisions. Get behind the wheel, stay in front of the storm.

There are always going to be people who get it, and get me, and don't have to try to decipher me at all. At this specific time, I feel like no one will really get all of these feelings but me. I do however acknowledge that there are people who get me, it feels like it's something that requires personal experience, and maybe it hasn't happened for you, and maybe it won't. Maybe all of this is so typical, maybe this is whats implied in all those coming-of-age stories. It feels good to feel something, even if its this eerie lonely kind of sad, that strangely feels good.

I make to do lists, a lot. I haven't recently, for no reason other than the obvious, I'M YOUNG AND LAZY. I love it, too. Anyways, I like making small lists, for daily shit. Making bigger lists for weekly shit, and a huge list for monthly shit. It could just be one thing, a goal, or something that will take me longer. I like having deadlines, and knowing what to do. This summer, I want to wake up at 8:00AM everyday, because I always feel so crummy waking up at noon. I want to read, and enjoy the books, and attain something from them, like I used to. I want to watch Elise play Zelda, and learn to make something other than PBJ. Anyways, my list for this week is: -Organize clothes/dressers/closet -Have a movie-party with Elise My list for this month is: -Finish One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (I found it, it wasn't at Sam's house after all) - Complete all of my weekly lists - Paint something worthwhile I'll write a real 'blog' later, with pictures and stuff,...

You know that one scene in Garden State, where Zach Braff is sitting on the couch after taking some crazy drugs, and everything around him is happening at a fast speed, and he's just lost in the midst of it all, seeing what is happening, but not being a part of it? That's what I feel like, all the time. I wish that other people could just 'get it', like you do.

It's the journey, not the destination. Getting what you want, doesn't mean you're happy.

Well my friends and I are just skeletons, piano key ribs, and eyes that serve as cup holders. Flapping jaws, creaking joints, and knocking knuckles. Well i guess we've got something to be proud of. tubes of crimson, humanity's first transportation system. Sure we have tendons and ligaments, pumping machinery, showy distinctions of the strength we entail. We've got a shell, and we've got protection, translucent flesh, I guess it's worth something. Sure we've got a powerhouse, something to keep the order. flipping images, and conducting fluent behaviors. We can make fire, and we can make love. We can lend you a hand. or watch you get fucked. Well, my friends and I, we're just human. Accidents, helplessness, and hormones that don't make sense. It's not too much, but around here, it's enough.

Since I've written a cohesive, legitimate blog. All of these ramblings, confessions, and worries, make no sense to anyone, least of all me. I rearrange my room, a lot. Some people are freedom-whores, some are truth-whores, and some people are just whores. Me, my friend, I am a change-whore. The feeling of finding new ways to work with what you have is gratifying, and with this change, comes the desire to spend more time in my room, hence more time in my head, therefore more time figuring all of this shit out. Actually though, most of the time I just sleep, or lurk myspace. I need a new journal, because though I always say I've never completed a journal, I have, in a way. I have a few notebooks, and though there wasn't really a conclusion, there was a new beginning, in a new notebook. I don't know how you're really supposed to end journals? I guess you don't, and it just lives on. It's strange to think of all of the things that could/will outlive me. For inst...

I am always overwhelmed, And I'm going to scare you away one day. I'm sorry I'm so clumsy with my emotions and my actions. You're a solemn soul, a curious creature, a forgiving friend. I hope you see that it's wearing me down as well, and I'm as much at a loss for what to do as you are. I love you, and I know I ask a lot, but I need you, and I know you need me. My whole body hurts with regret. And I don't know which to give up, my life or my habits. I must not be so melodramatic. I must not forget when I see the sunset that tomorrow it will rise again. I must not forget when I see the sunset that tomorrow it will rise again. I must not forget when I see the sunset that tomorrow it will rise again. I must not forget when I see the sunset that tomorrow it will rise again.

Dear friend, Things are shaping up, and it's not because of anything, which is actually a good thing. See, this goodness I'm coming upon right now, has been found. It hasn't just been created; for temporary sanity. xo , M.

I have been woken up. The sweet, crystallized sleepiness has been wiped from my eyes. I will never see this world the same, and I like the changes. I am changing, forever changing. I am human, and I am a mess. Do you remember feeling peaceful? Looking through old family albums, and picnics for no reason? Do you remember being in love? With the way things were, with the people around you? I will not regret, I will not hold the weight of the world, I will not let your mistakes put you down. You deserve a smile, to say the very least. You withhold the beauty, captured in the East. You deserve a fresh page, the chance to start anew. Every end is a beginning, and every thing's for you.

Dear Friend, People have been talking at me a lot lately. And i'm listening, i really am. They make eye contact, and their eyes are marbles. Their mouths move, and the corners of their lips are the arms of great conductors, anything and everything, explained and controlled, beautifully. Flapping these corners, these arms. In a desperate attempt to take flight. These sounds come from their mouths, with the use of tongues and cheeks and chords. Music, is all it really is. Every word has been said before, but they sound different every single time they're said, and they are. so different. Every experience is never the same, always changing, i'm always changing. Hand gestures or not, the body language is there. And i love them, and i love you. And they don't always love me, but that's how its supposed to be, you know? My dad stopped by today, though i was a bit cranky because i was mid-nap. i have good family. I have good friends, I have good peers, they try, and that s...

Dear friend, May 04,2008 I finished a painting today. I don't remember when i started it. It's of the singer of Bright Eyes, Conor Oberst . It's about the music, not about the face. I'm not very good. My mom is really nice, she's just a good person. I hope you have a good relationship with your mom. It's funny how I haven't painted or sketched since at least March, if not earlier. But as soon as i start working on my sketch of Elise, I get an idea for my Oberst painting, and notice how i can fix up my bleu madame. I'm going to get a goldfish soon. I hope all is well with you. I apologize for the last letter, I hope you're still listening. I would like to visit you. I am so young, so young and naive. Open my eyes and let me see the bullet wounds.

Dear friend, I am less than par. I can fast, I can wear makeup, I can cut my hair. But it doesn't help, and I feel ugly all of the time. Nothing will make me feel special. I don't want you to tell me I'm pretty. Just let me make my mistakes, I'll stay out of your way. I'm just like you, prettier outside than i am inside. Imagine what that could mean. xo , M.

I'm thinking of you, though I don't know you yet. I'm sitting here, temporary purple dye in my hair, water glass in hand, cold crimson in my arms, and i think of you. This hopeful entity, you cross my mind every once in a while. Someone who'll love me for me? Someone who'll let me love them for them? Someone who'll let me experience something beyond romance cliches, but secretly agree with them. I don't know your race, gender, religion, home, i don't know your eye color, your favorite song, i don't know if I'll my first impression of you will be a good one, or vice versa . I'm sitting here, 3:33 am, thinking of you and listening to 'heartbeats'. Feeling a little inspired, i guess. Mostly just mulling over recent things I've heard. It's come to my attention that "sometimes two people are perfect for each other, but one doesn't see it because the other isn't the "prettiest,"." I wonder if I'll ...

sweep the dust from under the rugs, light the candles, and raise the shades. shed your skin with me, this is the first day of our life. I'm going to keep my legs moving, keep pedaling forward. I guess its all i can do. Thank you, my friends. I am so grateful for the skies, for being scolded, for sharing laughter, for meeting friends, dancing manically. I am so grateful for you. That you've lent me your ear. That you've allowed me to open up, sharing your life is the easy part, its finding someone who cares that can be difficult. You're a beautiful, beautiful entity.

April To do list #1: find spot for paintings/supplies. clean up room, write reflection on edgar allen poe's Bells for english. watch kenan and kel, nap. Top five favorite drinks, april third, two-thousand and eight 1. orange soda, 2. apple juice, 3. cran-apple juice 4. water 5. yellow lemonade

today we welcome new things into our lives. we want the responsibility, and we want to feel proud of something. because we feel like we can't be of ourselves. today we rearrange furniture, take aimless walks, wave to strangers, and wear our unflattering worn in clothes. because it makes us happy. today we lift up the rocks, just to examine the life underneath. the worms and the bugs, just living within metaphor, underneath a rock. there's a place for us. this is my niche, i am the mess. i am thee crust. i am the soil. i make no sense, i am in love, with the sun.

So is it just me who notices that on the little bar right above where i'm typing this, it has a B for bold, and an I for italics. And that they're together, saying Bi. am i the only one with a sense of humor so immature i find this amusing? ABSOLUTELY NOT, i know you did it on purpose blogger.com! So i have a really big bed now, and i can't wait to be even more late for everything because i'm sleeping in, or just laying there staring at the ceiling and listening to sparrows in the morning. I began reading Pride and Prejudice, just because i wanted to prove its not all its hyped up to be, and i only liked the movie because Keira Knightley and Matthew MacFayden are hawt. In the most sophisticated way, that is. I hate artificial light, and i had all these ideas for youtube videos, and my camera's batteries were dead. Picked out my classes for highschool, I'm taking french, Algebra 1, World History, Honors Biology, Honors English, and i'm seeing about taking an...

it's all always work in progress! Getting a bunch of stuff from my dad's, including: BIGGER BED, OOHH YEAAAH; THREE PIECES OF PLEXIGLASS (hence second lady); stuffed animals, including my favorite, this weird tiger thing; big posters for excellent murals; rugs/pillows/other accessories from my room at his house; sudoku is what keeps me sane. i'm working on a bunch of lists, but i keep forgetting what i want to write on them. i love my bestfriend, she's lovely. HURRY UP, SPRING. xo, m.

So far in march, I've: had a doll of my pediatrician..?, brushed my teeth, saw the weather, made some brownies that looked like cat food, Found some elephant thing in my kitchen, Made fun of the government, Watched Derek laugh, watched alex laugh, and watched his facial hair grow to kill time, examined alex's amp, pretended to play piano, woke up at 1:16pm, drank some grape juice, waiting for reservations, waited for derek to order, watched alex fiddle with his shirt button, stalked some cutie with transparent hair, looked through some beer, had dinner with my family, embarrassed my brother for his birthday, watched derek have his cake and eat it too, loved sam's dog, loved sam's dog some more, that's a lot of love. sam became fourteen, and joined meggers in being a helium addict seriously, so much love.