Archive | May, 2010

sending those

31 May

Well! Studied quite a bit today, but I am bad at studying so it ended up kind of helping me, but mostly just driving the point home that I mostly know what I’m doing. Went over Chem definitions and other assorted cal, surprisingly I know stuff I would have sworn I didn’t.
Oh, also, that word “cal”? It is from A Clockwork Orange and basically means “shit,” but I kind of got it nestled in my brain and it is not likely to un-nestle itself out.
That actually means that I have written in this blog for the better part of a school year.
I am suprised, honestly, that I didn’t give up three days into writing it. People weren’t reading it, I wasn’t getting comments, it was not a source of entertainment, but hell, I kept writing and writing, and writing, and- before I realized it I had several dedicated readers and fifty posts under my belt. This blog’s been handy. And not for practicing writing (i write enough outside of here as is, believe me), but more for just expressing how I feel about things and knowing that someone out there is paying attention. Or pretending to, I don’t care. But someone is reading these words, and that is a marellous feeling for me.
I’ll explain why: I feel like I need other people to approve of what I do. I feel like I need their opinions in order to do something that will succeed. I don’t have a Freudian excuse for this compulsion as of yet, but I think it’s somehow tied into my borderline- (autistic? Asperger’s? Etc.?) symptoms. I’m not that messed up in the head, really, just crazy insecure and prone to being molded by the media.


(Love that song, though.)

This picture makes a little more sense if you’ve seen the first episode of Lucky Star. Chocolate coronets!

take a little journey

30 May

First of all, thanks to Lil for helping me with some personal demons and for letting me help you with some. (Or at least try to.) Also, flannel. (Lol.)
And secondly, I guess I am long overdue with saying that I am just a wee bit insecure. (Sarcasm.) I have avoided looking at that fact head-on for a good few months, but it is high time I try to fix that little quirk about myself. I judge myself mainly based on what the other
Whoa, cannot remember what I was going to write, ‘cos I heard Franz Ferdinand suddenly playing on the TV and ran out and danced. Um, um. I kind of remember what I was going to say, but since it was deep and intense I’ll wait until I remember everything to actually put it on here.
So: other deep things that I remember. Um. I tend to take little bits and pieces of people’s mannerisms and adapt them to my own. I do this ridiculously often, without really meaning to sometimes, and it freaks people out.
I can understand this.
To be fair, though, it is part of my nature, and when I latch onto a mannerism it really means that I like it and think that I should do it too. So I do. Not citing examples, but I have picked up traits from several people and freaked them the hell out (presumably.) So what do I aim to do about that? Stop it. I want to purge these little influences as soon as I can, but I don’t really know how other than to spend a long period of time away from that person. Hm.
Also: previous posts were written whilst feeling kind of jealous and panicky and after not leaving my room for a full day (bad idea), which is why they are filled with doom, gloom, and other delightful things. I am not usually like that. But gosh darn it, I freak out without contact with people.

Will write once my mind puts away a bunch of detrius.


29 May

I am so afraid.

reach through the wasteland

29 May

has always seemed to me to be a pompous word. I mean, not just because of the meaning associated with the letters, but just the way the word looks makes me think of some higher-up looking down their nose at me. I can’t stand that word. I can’t stand being compared to that word, and I don’t ever want to be called it.
Because, first of all, no one is perfect. Go on. Find someone you think is perfect, and in their weakest hour ask them if they think so too. I’ll wait.
Said no, right? Right. That’s because (and I know this sounds like common sense, and it should) people define perfection differently. I have noticed this even from a young age, when something I thought was the pinnacle of existence was promptly smooshed by my dad, who (to be fair) was only playing and didn’t see what I saw in my sand castles. I like sand castles.
Reason I’m bringing this up is ‘cos of my upcoming college applications, and the stress and pressure to write the “perfect” essay and get “perfect” scores and “perfectly” do out all the paperwork and augh it makes me sick. Firstly, how the fuck does one write the perfect essay? How the fuck does one write something that appeals to all people, sells themselves nice and concisely, and will be printed in SAT prep books until eternity? IT DOES NOT HAPPEN.
Another thing that bugs me is the subject matter of them: all detailing the most wonderful parts of the writer’s life, telling about how they coach small children or ride horses or all that cal. I read a “How To Write Essays” sheet that prompted a paper on your vacation that detailed the stuff you brought and didn’t need.
It just makes me angry to know that somewhere some kid is writing that essay, and filling it full of cal that he thought would work, and getting into college on a piece-‘o’-crap essay about stuff he left behind. Of course, it could be well written and all, good job, but STILL.
Everything about this ridiculous system isn’t really based on how intelligent you are, it’s a measure of how good you are at selling yourself to a corporation. That’s why I get so pissed off whenever Jamesey starts babbling on about “you have to beat the system” or somesuch. It disgusts me. It makes me sick to my stomach.

Well in other news I am still sore and achey and fucking lonely but that will pass and I have to study for my exams which I have to do perfectly on, oh there’s that word again, but I am probably not and so my parents will beat my sorry hide.
At least I have France and the promise of light to look forward to.

two hearts in 3/4 time

29 May

Had a dream last night.
The setting was pretty much Left 4 Dead 2’s Atrium level, albeit without zombies and with normal people milling around. It was either in France or Puerto Rico. But.
[__] and [_____] and someone else (I didn’t know them) were visiting or something, and as soon as I saw them walking towards me I ran up and hugged them to within an inch of their life. Oddly, they didn’t react as they would’ve in real life: [__] hugged me back, hard, and planted a little kiss on my cheek (which I was not expecting). [_____] smiled brightly and hugged back. Which was nice.
Anyway. It turns out that there are some evil things around the mall, so I am stuck travelling with these folks and blowing the heads off of any evil things we see. Which we do. [__] and I talk about psychological stuff, about the meaning of life-
It was a cool dream, I’ll give my subconcious that. But. It also kind of worried me, after yesterday’s revelations and disappointments. (More on that later.)

Will write. My body is in pain right now from yesterday. I’m gonna try and sleep some more.

flight tonight

28 May

Three things that really made me happy happened today.
1. I got the Avalanches’ CD (and will consequently listen to it on repeat for about three weeks).
2. I realized I do not [_________] (or, never mind)
3. My sister won Orange and White day. Doesn’t really make me all that happy, but I needed three things ‘cos two
Is an ugly number.

And! And!
THIS CD IS SO FREAKING GOOOOD I AM PUTTING IT ON THE REC LISTENING PAGE AS SOON AS MUTHAFUCKINLY POSSIBLE. Okay? Okay. It is WONDERFUL, I’ll write more coherently about it later. I am burning it for people.

Speaking of which, thanks Lil for 1. Alerting me to my overpowering creepiness; and 2. Pinching my boob. Ow, but I def. deserved it, which is why I’m not all pouty at the moment.
Will write later, k?

Protected: oh, avalanche.

28 May

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boy 1904

27 May

I do not know how I’m feeling.

Under my happiness and joy and anticipation, something heavy is moving closer and closer to a revelation. I don’t want to have this revelation. I don’t want to push the bonds any farther, but if they go, then so do I. Unwillingly, but I’ll still be dragged along.
What happened? Nothing, just a song and a seed of a thought and a terrible idea.
[ ] is driving me nuts. I know it is not for me on so many levels- (actually, only one. Only one, but it seems like an impenetratable layer) but god dammit I cannot help the almighty shiver, the terrible shake that runs through.
It is not healthy. I do not want to have to do this ever again. I hope I never have to do this ever again.
I hope.
I pray, I hope that this is the end of this.
[. ], I have nothing more to say to you.

we’re surprised to see

26 May

that our souls were made of gold.

I should not read House Of Leaves at school.
There are a few reasons why: I become easily frightened, I start rambling long sentences in my head, I start thinking absofuckinglutely terrifying thoughts (ALL DAY), I feel like Johnny Truant. All around, not a good idea.


Orange and White day is Friday, sure I have a math test tomorrow that will kick my ass around the curb, but goddammit I am going to kick it right back with all the force my big ‘ol feet can muster. I am one determined mofo at the moment. I had to do My Brother’s Table today, stormed into Mrs. Grace’s room with the biggest scowl y’ever seen, plunked my headphones down, left. I may or may not have given someone a death glare, I was too pissed off to remember. I wanted to break something, that’s for sure. (Namely, Mrs. Blankedy’s face.)

Also! Burnt a mix for a peep tonight, they will be given it at the earliest opportunity, it is pretty good if I do say so myself.
Not much else has happened for me to angst about, still puzzling over what exactly I am feeling in relation to people around me. Conclusions are still far away, but dammit I am cool with that, I don’t need to know we’re feeling higher and higher and higher-
Shit. Passion Pit lyrics, get out of my brain.
I’ve noticed that whenever I mention a snippet of a song lyric: for instance, the of Montreal “and you were always on the tip of my tongue” line from the first song on Skeletal Lamping: I suddenly have this urge to finish the line. In this case it’d be “And now that you happened, and it really really really came true, I feel like I ought to thank somebody, so thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”
Somehow I am tired, I do not understand why but hell, I’m going to bed ‘cos I don’t want to study anymore. Valid!
Will write tomo

for the promise of life

25 May

Well, I am certainly not angry about anything at the moment. And I’m definitely not sad- I am content, I have solved my problems with the codenamed peeps. Well, as far as my viewpoint is, I’ve solved them. I don’t know how the other people think.
Especially the peeps who I’d pissed off a while ago. I managed to make amends, and basically tried to gracefully move on best I could. And so it went, and here I am, quite a bit better for the little suffering I had to expend. I am a little proud of myself for dealing with it as I did.
Same with the other thing that was eating me for most of the year. I have accepted facts and not tried to change anything; sure, it may be excruciating, but goddammit there is nothing I can do about it.

I want to write poems about the mournful inner city.
I want to sing you songs.
I want to do a lot of things.

Vem vaktar lejonen?