Mikey Way’s Wife

February 25, 2009

One afternoon while coming down to my chilled basement of course to log on to the computer, I checked my email. Now in my inbox I had an email titled, “Mikey Way’s wife…” The first time I saw if I thought it said “Mikey Way’s life…” and let out gasp thinking he had died. Instead it was an email from my mother. She knows the My Chemical Romance obsesser that I am and told me a woman whom she works with used to go to school with her. Now this may be cool or uninteresting, but hey, I’m just here to write, so don’t hate on Mikey or the band. –The woman’s name is Tracey, and I’m guessing she is like 27 years old and what a teeny thing she is! Tracey has auburn, chin length hair, has great bone structure in her face, and has I’m guessing a small five foot five frame. She came with my mom, Roxann, and I to the Buzz Stole Christmas concert back in December.– Anyway, Alicia Simmons, Mikey’s wife, went to the same high school. My mom said Tracey thought she was a bit strange and possibly a druggie. Tracey was unsure that Alicia had grown up to marry an awesome bassist such as Mikey Way. Then she saw a picture of Mikey and Alicia together or read in article in a music magazine and could finally believe it. Now Tracey is from Grain Valley Missouri and that gave me, the Missouri girl I am (though I live more in the city), some hope. Heck, maybe I’ll marry the next Kurt Cobain but I hope he doesn’t shoot himself in the head or snort cocaine or do any sort of drug really. In fact maybe I’LL be the next (female) Kurt Cobain without the drugs and suicide.


Girl In Converse Shoes

February 21, 2009

02/20/09

Just about every day when I walk into my school building. There is a woman holding the door open. Now my school is all about “leadership” and being kind so we have people standing around in the hallways to say “Good morning!”. Now this can get quite annoying, but if I was being honest even if they really don’t care, if you’re having a bad morning it makes me feel a tad bit better. Just to hear someone tell you “Good morning!”– Back to the woman at the front door. — I still don’t quite have her name down, but I suppose it isn’t too big of a deal.

The shoes I own are mainly converse. I’ve got four pairs of high tops and three pairs of low tops. The first pair of converse I ever got were the classic pair of black high top converse.  I ran around in them, drew on them, got them dirty, washed them, drew on them again, taped a very small picture of Gerard Way the toe of one of them (with clear duct tape), and added neon green shoe laces for the final touch. (I still have them because my feet haven’t grown, though they are about ready to fall apart.) My second pair were gray with a maroon coloring on the inside. Very rarely do you see me in them, but later I turned them into my Paramore shoes. I wrote each of the band members’ names on the inside, colored one of the toes checkered red and white, onthe other I wrote “Paramore is a band”. My third pair were a pair of black low tops with silver designs on them. My fourth and favorite are low tops with flames on them. They are gorgeous! I used to say they made me run fast, but of course I’m just fast anyway (my coach told me to take up track). My fifth and sixth I purchased at the same time. Black, leather, high tops and black with white stars, high tops, which I added neon pink shoe laces to. Now my seventh pair I received as a birthday present last year. Purple low tops which I adore (I think I’ll draw rainbows on the toes soon).

Now this woman has noticed my converse. I wear a pair just about every day. She has commented on my wardrobe as “colorful”. Since we have to wear unfortunate uniforms I like to wear crazy knee high socks or funky shoes. Something out of the ordinary. Today she said, “Oh, she’s got the purple ones back on. I like the purple!” I’ll smile of thank her and walk on up to class. I must be known as the girl in converse shoes.


Brought To Tears…

February 18, 2009

02/17/09

Last night while watching a To Write Love On Her Arms video on YouTube, I came across a video called “The Way She Feels Part 2”. Curious ol’ me, I clicked on it. It happened to the be the making of Between The Trees’ music video for “The Way She Feels”. You see Between The Trees are big supporters of the TWLOHA foundation. In fact, they knew Renee Yohe before To Write Love on Her Arms was even started. The lead singer, Ryan Kirkland, had befriended Renee. Though it was a big burden to carry, Ryan remained trustworthy of Renee. Finally it got to a point where it was almost too much, and they needed to get her to rehab. — Anyway, back to the video. — The song was written about Renee and her struggle with cutting. As I watched this video for the first time last night, I was just barely in tears and had become the start of a new Between The Trees fan. As of today, I know all of the lyrics to “The Way She Feels” and I savor every last bit of them. Reader, the beautiful song, “The Way She Feels” by Between The Trees.


You’re Gonna Go Far Kid

February 16, 2009

I was thinking. If I was offered the opportunity to be a journalist for a music magazine (possibly Alternative Press or Rolling Stone) or to be a guitarist in an amazing band. Which would I choose? I had wanted to play guitar since I was nine years old. Practicing my air guitar in the privacy of my own room, completely spazing. Or pouring my guts out with ink and paper in hopes of becoming an utterly brilliant writer.

Being in a band would be quite interesting. I’d enjoy the fun questionnaires you get in interviews and your “humble” opinion on things. Looking super fierce in when you play live so you can intimidate people. Or to be some coffee drinking freak, blinded from the sun, glued to your computer, writing obsesser. Wearing T-shirts and tight jeans, strutting around like you know what you’re doing. Reader, does that thought ever cross your mind? I wonder where life will take me quite often. Who will I end up being in the next couple of years (I’m hoping I’ll stay true to who I am now.)?

Reader, let’s be honest. Would either of those jobs fully satisfy me? I seem to be quite an undecided person. I purchase an item at a store. “I love it! I’m so happy I bought it!” The next twenty minutes. “What the heck did I just waste my money on?! I could have bought ‘such and such’.” Yep, that is me. Being on the road with a band would be fun for a while. Awake at all hours, doing what you love, traveling, and playing shows. My only problem? I get motion sickness. I’d practically be bulimic. Then the shows would get tiring, performing the same songs until you write a new one. I suppose I shouldn’t think so negatively, maybe I’d be able to make a big impact on a lot of kids. Then there is writing. After a while, what is there to talk about? You are usually seen with a pen in your hand or your eyes are burning from staring at a computer screen for so many hours.

I guess I can be quite the “party pooper”, but that’s just me my friend. You either do or don’t like me, I don’t care too much. Either one I’d love. Writing would be easier to handle, though I’d miss the comfort of my guitar, Bella, too much. The excitement of playing a gig and going crazy on stage sounds and looks intruiging. Who knows where the world might take me….


Rid Me Of This Feeling

February 15, 2009

02/15/09

I’ve got an unquenchable feeling of uncertainty. I feel it when I fall asleep at night, I hope it will not wake up to it in the morning. I feel out of place with this feeling. Like I could use it to do something daring, something that the regular Phoenixx wouldn’t do. Maybe I’m just stressing myself out for no reason. Have you ever gotten the feeling where it feels like the skin over your ribcage is tightening? That happens to me when I’m hungry and occasionally when I’m stressing. I don’t understand myself fully. One day I’m, lighting the room with my smile, the next I’m sulking because I can’t find reason in ANYTHING. Some days I don’t know what I’m worried about. Though it could be everything. There is always something wrong with the picture you see. Whether it’s small or large, but the world is obviously an imperfect place.

Music is my cure for all of that. My medicine. My hate notes. My excitement. My everything. Music is there for me. If I’m happy I “head bang” to some Paramore, if I’m feeling angry I turn on My Chemical Romance’s first album (“I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love”) and blast “Our Lady of Sorrows” while screaming the lyrics. If I’m feeling whimsical and lighthearted I might fancy for some MGMT or Vampire Weekend. If I want to dance I’ll turn on the Gym Class Heroes. Feeling indie, maybe Radiohead, Straylight Run, or Lovedrug. Needing to relax I’ll play my Feist (“The Water” is my personal favorite). Anberlin just makes me want to take a minute and think about the lyrics then get back up and jump around. The Academy Is… is a good definition of pop punk. Punk but not to ranting instead, poppy, definitely something you could jump to. Maybe I should just turn on some music. Though it will only push back problems, but maybe that’s what I want.

“You gotta swim, and swim when it hurts.” — Jack’s Manequinn

“Can’t walk it off, can’t come clean.” — Lovedrug


Just a dream, right?

February 12, 2009

02/12/09

Last night I had a dream. You see, I don’t really like dreams. Mine usually seem to be connected to inner fear or just something stupid that scares me while I’m asleep, though when I think about it later it seems idiotic. It wasn’t terribly frightening, though it was strange. It had something to do with a couple topics I’ve had on my mind a lot recently. Cutting and To Write Love On Her Arms. (In fact I’m wearing my one of my TWLOHA tees right now.)

In this dream I was in some hospital/psychiatric ward. The setup was similar to parts of my house, yet like a hospital at the same time. It was vacant. I wandered the halls with a few of my family members (I only remember my mother and Eleanor), yet I kept ending up in the same place.  As if I was going in circles. So while wandering these empty halls alone, they seemed dirty or abandoned. Finally I came across a bed, in which was my former house guest, Abby. I was scared I didn’t know what to say or do, I didn’t want to go pleading sorry. I ran back in circles, trying to think things over. Finally, I entered a bathroom. In that bathroom I found a razor blade. No, not a three bladed razor you would use to shave your legs. I razor blade. I began to cut little slits in my hand, the one I remember most was on my thumb. I hesitated a moment and went on. They were not very deep, but enough to sting. Blood didn’t ooze, but I saw blood. — My hands are shaking while I type this post.– I was tempted to go for my wrist, but I didn’t slice through the skin, only because I had a fear of “bleeding it out”. All through school the thought of cutting racked through my brain, and I was scared.


The Little Things

February 2, 2009

Today I was at least hopeful, and not completely negative. In fact I was secretly excited to go to PE, but keep that a secret. I’m trying hard to focus on my work when Sarah, Veronica, and I get to talking about the Katy Perry concert. Veronica: “I really want to go, but my mom says no since it’s at a bar. But I might get to see The Killers!” My heart sinks. I cannot remember if I spilled the beans or what, but I pray to god that the tickets will soon be sold out before she gets her hands on them. Me: “Oh.” That was all I managed to say. Veronica is barely a Killers fan; I wish I could strangle her right now. I come back with, “Yeah, I love The Killers. I have all their albums.” I understand that was a total cat-ish thing to do, but to be honest, that was what I was aiming for. Yeah, yeah, she knows one song. In my book, that is called a poseur fan. You might not understand how it can get under my skin so much, but I like doing things on my own. Without friends to ask to “hang out” with me when all they do insult me.

 Sarah speaks, “Phoenixx don’t take this the wrong way, but my brother thinks-” I finish for her, “That I’m to young to go to Warped Tour. I know, you told me.” She goes on about how he said I was too young to go to concerts, listen to this kind of music, “besides I might think I know what they are talking about, but I really don’t”. Now, the last of that sentence was a quote. All I could think was, WHY DOES HE (YOU) ****ING CARE?!?!?! It’s not like it is any of his business. Note to self: Never speak of any concerts near my “friends”… ever. This is one reason why I love to isolate myself from everyone. Just when I’ve dusted myself back off, they bite back with words. I reply to Sarah, “What I am I supposed to listen to, Hannah Montana?!?!?!” I wish I could scream in her face. In fact both of them, but I’ve got a “good girl” reputation and I wish I could show them my venom.

 Later that day Madeline comes over to me, “Phoeni, I can’t believe you are gonna bail on me with the Katy Perry concert!” I’m sorry, but I would like to save my money for other concerts and merchandise money. I reply to her, “I’m sorry, but I wanted to see The Killers.” “Yeah, but still.” she continues. I respond, “Yeah, but it’s THE KILLERS.” Veronica was sitting next to me. Of course then she starts talking about bands, which leads to a dream she had, which leads to money. With that someone asks what she would do with the money. Veronica: “Um, go to concerts, buy clothes, shoes.” Go to concerts was her first answer. I know for a fact she wouldn’t even have thought about it if I hadn’t brought it up. God, why do I have to be such an idiot?!

I suppose, I shouldn’t get mad over things so little as these, but it’s the little things that make me itch.