Tag Archives: angst

in the morning

7 Apr

Oh my.

Things aren’t exactly looking up for my family, financial-wise. We have a buttload of taxes to pay, and my parents are stressing out over it, which osmoses to me and makes me feel a little unbalanced.
So: going to blog.

Well, besides the above, today was alright. I got carcinogenic printing ink on my hands, woo-hoo. I also got hugged like twelve times, which was great and made my day a little better.
Here’s the main reason I started writing this post:
I want to do a cover of the Sigur Rós song Gobbledigook. Desperately. So, I am looking for volunteers to help me, whether they are singing or drumming or clapping. So far I have about four people helping me, which is more than none. If you read this blog and you go to my school, please comment if you would like to help. The song is beautiful and loud and is not that hard to learn, especially if you want to drum. I think we’re going to record it on Friday. Maybe. Possibly. There are a lot of variables. We’ll see how it goes.

Wrote a bunch of poems today, for some reason they are all love poems written from the perspective of an already-established relationship. Weird? Maybe a little.
Or a lot. I don’t know why I can’t write anything but these sappy-ass poems…
Here’s one.

neither Sodom nor Gommora could hold our fire-
we exploded in a cloud of smoke when
our lips first touched- like rose petals brushing
and it sent a crackling, burning spark down my spine.
Let’s burn this place down.
Let’s be the new Prometheus.
We will introduce the world to the smouldering coals in their souls.
We will begin anew/pheonixes rising, rising
Too long to write out all of it, really, and about a third of it is crap. Meh.
I had a creative moment today.

Will write more later- also, this is post 300. I’d like to take this moment to thank you guys for reading, for giving me a reason to write every day. Thanks. I couldn’t have gotten this far without knowing you guys were waiting for my next post.


don’t hold yourself like that

8 Mar

How am I feeling? Pretty goddamned crappy, that’s how. I want to explode into a pile of goo.
I told my mom about my Chem test, how I’d done very well on it but it only raised my grade a point. I mentioned that my grade is currently a 78. This is very good for Chem, but mummy dearest flipped a shit and insisted that I do better, as I am apparently the “smartest kid in the class.”
So now I’ve got my mother hounding my apathetic ass, as well as having to take about three abso-fuckin-lutely wonderful tests this week. Awesome. Junior year pretty much sucks. Hopefully I can get my grade up to an 80 by the end of this week in Chem. Two friggin’ points- 2 friggin’ points! I should be able to do this, g’dammit!

On the lighter side (I am still resounding with FFFFFFFFFFs, though), we had another one of those “if you have sex you will get pregnant, get syphilus and DIEEE” assemblies today. The first bit was the usual statistics-spouting shit, but then he next speaker came up and introduced us to the wonderful world of dental dams and finger condoms. Um, thanks, lady, for making 300 students feel a little uncomfortable for half an hour. Fun stuff!

Also, I took the posts offa Facebook because my dad and mom can see them, much to my chagrin. So I guess they’ll be back up after I find a way to keep the Moral Guardians from seeing all my filthy language. Bitch! Haha.

fenestrial staircases

7 Jan

Haha Ryan, that is the best word ever.

Well, Fauberge fell for Shuggie. It was pretty inevitable, really, and I’m quite amazed that I’m not as hurt by it as I am. Sure, I feel a little sad/jealous, but it’s not enough to make me cry.
And I think (AHAHA NEW CODENAMES) Hove and Taschen are really helping. I think I can leave Shuggie in the past; today it wasn’t real weird talkin’ to him, it wasn’t really weird sittin’ by him sittin’ with Fauberge. It was heartrending, the look in his eyes, though, and the little stutter- I will never have that side of him presented to me, but that’s something I’ve got to accept.
But Taschen. Taschen. I don’t know what the hell is going on with me about Taschen- I’m going to leave him in my head for the moment, at least until the mysteries around him start to clear up.
Hove is a different story. He is wonderful and I don’t know what to do about him either.
Goddammit, love is fuckin’ ridiculous. I’d rather live a life without it, but it would be lonely and terrible.

Maybe. Maybe eventually I will find someone who thinks I am awesome; thinks I am wonderful, etcetera, etcetera.
It’ll come. I’ll wait.

difficulty befriending puffins

8 Dec

well, currently sitting in the Pub, probably should be somewhere else but I am too apathetic to even give half of a shit. Instead, I will sit here, pipe Passion Pit loudly into my ear, and attempt to ignore Bortglomt over there who is doing…something.

I just ripped the Smiths’ The Queen Is Dead, and I finally realized: it’s VICAR in a Tutu, rather than “BABBLING in a Tutu”. This makes quite a bit of my life suddenly make sense. Also, bubbles.

The kid next to me, presumably a freshman, is writing something about magical metal detectors. That find jewels. He is also watching Stewie (from Family Guy) shove someone down the stairs multiple times. I see no humor in this. I see no awesome in wistfully watching Bortglomt from across the room. I see no awesome in listening to him babble about colleges.

I see no awesome in today, thus far.

And Jamesey just asked me about French homework, much to my chagrin- I kind of suck at helping people with homework, which is why I kind of went “eh imparfait and conditional” then slowly slinked away back to my chair. There is nothing to write about today. There is nothing to do today.

Today is just a big glomp of nothing.

(and I am still wistfully staring at Bortglomt from across the room. Damned beautiful people!)

holy shcamoley, relationships

6 Dec

who keeps viewing my blog
because it now has like sixty eight views from yesterday and I am scared someone is going to tell me that that is illegal because I do not write that well, please stop

aaaaaaand well.

Well, well well. I need to give props to my dear friend Lil, for staying up till twelvethirty last night helping me get over myself. Props!

and why- oh, Tweed. I have a lot to say to you, and it’d be a helluva lot easier to do so if we weren’t preoccupied with the past. I have been an idiot. I remember that trip, I remember your face when I asked, I remember sitting in the hallway for what seemed like an eternity later, whispering Icelandic whale-phrases under my breath. But that’s not the case anymore- I’ve moved on, I’ve shed that skin, and goshdarnit I’d just like to be friends, good friends.

and that’s really all I wanted all along, you know.

In the beginning, I’d seen you, thought “oh he looks interesting” and attempted to strike up a conversation; you were courteous, you’d never met me before, you treated me like anyother person would. And it made me happy.

And I wanted to hug you.

But some faulty valve in my brain said “wait you are a girl, he is a guy, you cannot hug without being in love, FALSE” so I closed the door of friendship and decided I would become infatuated with you over the next couple years. Which I did. I have the embarassing diaries to prove it, all “angsty” and “edgy” and just plain laughable looking back on.

but then, high school happened, and something changed- I met people, I befriended people, I started seeing you more often, Tweed, and realized that hey you still are awesome, but I am too awkward around you. So I tried to get accustomed, I tried to tell myself “oh I’m over him what are you talking about”

and I really wasn’t over you, you know, until this summer. After the trip something subtle broke between us and I realized, i finally realized that you should be my friend and nothing else.

Then school began, Bortglomt wormed his way into my conciousness by being angry and apathetic and glorious nonetheless and I further realized that we have much more in common than either of us know, and it made me happy-

and instead of taking the wrong path again, I opened the friend door and walked inside.

Though we will never, never be as close as we could’ve been- there will always be that blanket of awkwardness muting our conversations, limiting them to appropriate things like music and movies and etc.- I am still a little happy on the inside that we haven’t ignored each other- you are very kind, Tweed.

And I am glad you are.