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through every pane

19 Sep

A vapour cloud alarm is not really the best way to begin your day.
A vapour cloud alarm that goes on for at least ten minutes, all the while releasing tons of flammable hydrocarbons into the air, leading your father to call and tell you to get the fuck out of there: that’s worse.
Currently sitting in my mom’s office in Christiansted, my hair is a mess, I am wearing a purple dress and silver Sperrys. I feel icky. I am also worried about my dog, who we left at home.
It’s been a bad morning.

a routine malaise

17 Sep

My father and I do not often see eye-to-eye.
Case in point: today, I get home, have a snack, lay on my bed and draw, check facebook, grab my guitar, go into the kitchen. There are dishes and crap on the counter. I put the crap away, check the dishwasher and find it’s full. Sigh to myself, put dirty dishes in the sink, proceed to RAWKKKK.
Six hours later my dad bursts into my room and asks in his angry voice “when did you get home?”
I reply “4 ‘o clock.”
“So you were here for at least two hours. The dishes aren’t done.”
“I was at work from seven to six. Do you know how long that is? I was at WORK for eleven hours.”
At this point I start thinking “that’s nice, dad, that’s your job,” but saying that would be a very Bad Idea.
He proceeds to glare at me and step out of my room.

My parents are really super overprotective, my dad is a neat freak, and my mom is only really concerned with what I look like. I don’t love my parents so much as am afraid of them, since I really don’t see what is wrong with what I’ve done.

Anyway, parents aside, it is the weekend, tomorrow is Matt Car’s party that he’s been talking about for weeks now, I don’t know why but hell I’m going anyway. Paulie is trying to coerce me into doing shots of Kahlua with her, but I’m going to very much abstain. I have no idea if this will be a good party or not. I might just stay home.

Not much else to report atm. I keep thinking my dad’s opening the door to yell at me more. It is hell on my nerves.


long island sound

11 Sep

(three days before False Priest!)

Firstly, I want to get something out of the way: it’s 9/11. Every blogger is mentioning this fact, this is what I have to say about it: to those who were personally affected by it, I am very sorry. To those who weren’t, well that really sucked. And to those responsible, I hope you suffer from a mindcrushing amount of guilt, possibly more. That’s all I’ve got, back to me writing about me.

Senior year, besides being a little ridiculous, is also freaking me the fuck out. For once in my life I have no one around me who I really need to impress. For once in my life I have no one near me to angst about. It is kind of a ridiculously foreign feeling. It is liberating, true, but it is mostly strange.
Especially because I find myself thinking of The Poet whenever I let my thoughts stray to possible angstworthy personages. In my warped little mind, he is somewhat like a rock I can cling to in my indecision. If that makes any sense.

Iiiin other news, cooked basically all day today, I want to die, my feet are screaming like a motherfucker, I may or may not have started my English project, I drew a bunch of crap for my next print in Art.
Yeah, you read that right.
It’ll look cool, though. I’ll take a picture when I’m done.


yeah, yeah//

7 Sep

dude college essays are really fucking difficult.

What do I even do? I mean, besides Quiz and Science Bowl, and going to France, and sometimes petsitting for people and aauuughhh why does nothing I do lend itself to essaying?

maybe I should just write some crappy poetry and be done with the damn thing. Honestly.



31 Aug

Well: tomorrow is the real First Day Of Senior Year.
I am not sure how to feel about this.
One side of my brain is rejoicing because I kind of (truth be told) like school and the busywork and the socializing. The other half is cursing and raving because goddammit, I have to deal with college prep. Fucking college prep. I hate Mrs. N with all my heart, I wish our school had a better and more understanding college counselor, but no. We’re stuck with her.
I’m not going to think about that now. I have to be up at 6 AM tomorrow, so I’m going to stop writing and go to sleep already.
Will write more later detailing important stuff.

maybe sometimes

22 Aug

I hate, hate, hate Facebook drama.
So far, in the last month, I’ve been nearly brought to tears twice: once because the main people I hung out with in Paris all defriended me over the course of two days, with no prior explanation, leaving me with no way to contact them whatsoever and stuck in the proverbial dust.
Second one happened about five seconds ago, when I realized that Kyna no longer showed up as anything but “Facebook User.” Cue freak out, as I went to a bunch of people’s profiles making sure that it wasn’t just me, wasn’t a bug. She deleted her account, I think, which makes me feel a little better because I understand the whole business now (but I won’t be able to see her pictures! DANG). I also still have ways to contact her! Yay! Friendship will go on!

But now my inner peace has been skewed and I no longer feel quite so great. I must think of peach light and zeppelins. I need to take a few deep breaths and try to let this whole business roll off like water on a duck’s back.

I think that as the year rolls on, the defriendings and other random acts of cruelty will disappear and vanish. Maybe. In any case, I won’t feel them as much. My memories will suffice.
I know which ones will still hurt, though.

((((((wading out of the caverns))))))

revel in slumber

20 Aug

Aah: the world.
Something about the days slipping by has left me feeling both hopeful and downtrodden, a strange mix of cynicism and idealism. These dog days are smashing the jars inside my chest that previously held everything nicely compartementalized, my sadness partitoned away from my anger, happiness away from disappointment. That was then: now is now, a soup swimming away with my thoughts and swirling down the drain, off to other uncharted regions.

Yesterday’s post, besides being long as fuck, also was a way for me to expel a lot of the pissed-offedness that I’d been feeling since I got home. There were a lot of unanswered questions that I left in Paris, and well writing that seemed to sort of conjure up answers that satisfied me, at least for now.
At the moment, though: listening to gratuitous amounts of CocoRosie and Warpaint and Tame Impalas (a psychadelic garagey band that I saw someone post on Facebook and dug immensely, I may do more research) and thinking about maybe writing another screenplay, though the current one needs rewriting. I was never good at that sort of thing, fixing my words.

I also want to paint, to make some art, but all the ideas I have come out funny on paper, more distorted and wrong than I intended. I think I’m going to make more prints this year, send them to people. Hum. We’ll see.

When it gets to this time of year, the moments before school begins and I am swept up in that ridiculous giddy business, I start proposing great projects that I never get around to. It’s kind of a disappointment, really, but a disappointment I think I can at least live with.

Going to write some poetry, maybe.
Will write tomorrow.