Looking For Alaska

December 29, 2009

Looking For Alaska by John Green

An ordinary (despite his love for famous last words) Floridan boy, Miles “Pudge” Halter is searching for his own Great Perhaps. So Pudge decides to enter the world that is Culver Creek Boarding School. – An almost-cliché, half-battle between the Weekday Warriors and the scholarship kids, made up solely of pranks. – His Great Perhaps begins not long after he meets Alaska Young, the most gorgeous, clever, self-destructive girl he has ever known. Alaska tugs his hand to follow her into her life of adventures and Pudge falls hopelessly in love with her.

The writing style of this novel is effortlessly brilliant and thoughtful. – As Brighten’s album King Vs. Queen played quietly as a soundtrack for the book throughout my entire reading session. – I was Pudge smoking down at the smoking hole, looking off at Alaska. I was Pudge running from the Eagle after he and Takumi had set off the pre-prank firecrackers. I was Pudge lying on the hay buried ground drinking Strawberry Hill wine and feeling warm. And so I was literally Pudge sobbing after the death of Alaska.

Alaska was the real world of Culver Creek. You were always looking for her, and you found her. She was just another terrified, screwed-up human being with confused emotions. In a sense I reached enlightenment on the subject of Alaska’s death. I couldn’t have written a better ending. Some books give closure yet still leave you wondering. With Looking For Alaska there is no need for wondering and it ends nicely.

I now seek to find my own Great Perhaps. Though I am not a religious person, I now also seek to reach complete and total enlightenment.

I have no gift to bring

December 24, 2009

Has anything so altering made you want to just forget that it happened completely? It has for me. I remember last winter so clearly. I dream about it in my sleep and I panic as the moments replay underneath my closed eyelids.

A family in need stayed with us, we invited them into our home. I felt so covered in filth while they were here. I don’t know if we really helped them at all. Drama stirred and it turned out they brought too much of a burden with them that couldn’t simply start over or at least try to. I think about Cory, or I refered to her as Libby once. Sometimes I wonder if she’s still alive but when I do, it hurts too much to even think that. Sometimes I become so sick with guilt and thinking if we ruined them completely my stomach turns. I want to wash away these memories. It’s our first Christmas without them and I can barely even enjoy it. I will take a few deep breaths, maybe that would help.

I wish Aaron Gillespie’s voice would consume me. Swallow me whole and I could drown in the sea of sound.

\”Yule Be Sorry\” – Aaron Gillespie and Kenny Vasoli

It’s cold in the desert

December 23, 2009

I am frustrated with myself. Immensely. The thing is, I can’t seem to push myself enough. I want someone to yell at me and tell me I have to do this. I cannot simply ‘quit’ again because I became bored. I wish someone would tell me I need to pick up my guitar again.

I have all these plans for 2010, but I know they won’t happen if I don’t have a little help. My guitar lessons stopped. Joe, my teacher, is moving back to Jersey with his family. When I found out I began sitting in front of a computer screen on Tumblr more. My finger sores and almost-fingertip calluses have healed and now you can barely tell I ever played a single note in my life. I honestly don’t know what happened. I have to start somewhere but I feel the need to rush and reach for anything that takes time. My guitar teacher and I had a certain way of communicating. For example, we both have trouble summing up literal things, sounds, or feelings into words. I would understand exactly what he was trying to say if he said, “It sounds kind of…”
“Melancholy?” I once finished.

I remember a few weeks ago I sat back down and picked up my guitar, Janelle. She looked so lonely and her shiny black paint coat was tempting me. First I tuned her and then I went over the basics; notes, chords, songs, music I had written. It felt so good to feel the pulse in my aching finger tips. I wanted to play until the skin on my fingertips started to peal so I could reclaim my almost-calluses, but of course that didn’t happen. I told myself I would come back down the next night… but I didn’t. So I have to be mentally forceful to myself if I am going to get anywhere.

It made me so angry when I found out my friend’s older brother got a Fender electric guitar for his birthday. He’s supposedly going to start a band. He and his Mohawk can take a hike because honestly I know his soon-to-be-band will not get anywhere. I say that not to be completely rude or doubtful, but if anyone deserves getting somewhere I believe it should be me. I want my fingers to glide across the neck of my guitar like some magician. I want to be the greatest. I suppose I should use this winter break to brush up and actually start somewhere.

Song of the Day – Cold Desert by Kings Of Leon [it’s a link]

Word of advice

December 19, 2009

Oh. My. God.

So this afternoon, Jane, my writing mentor was over at my house. We traded books, talked about hair products, and exchanged Christmas gifts. Her gift to me was an adorable Hello Kitty bag. Inside the bag was a local artist-made notebook, a pen, a Hello Kitty pencil pouch, and one candy cane.

After she left I found more items in the bag which were lip balm and a pink spray. I looked at the pink spray, puzzled. I sprayed it into the air. There was no scent. So I sprayed it again but into my hand. I figured it was candy spray because it was a liquid orange. Then I dipped the tip of my tongue into my hand. Instantly my tongue felt as if it was on fire. I ran to the bathroom in a panic. I ran ice cold water into my mouth, but that wasn’t enough. I then scrubbed my tongue with soap, but that wasn’t enough either. The whole while, I was panicking that I would have to call the poison control.

I called for my mom and told her about the pink spray. I set off and looked through my room for it. When she finally found it she turned the spray over and it read, “Mace”. Word of advice, do not spray Mace Pepper Spray into your mouth. It burns… a lot. You can officially say that this has been a FML week. Haha.

It’s an emergency.

December 19, 2009

I am sitting on my lazy arse at my computer — my dying, old, computer with limited memory supply. A computer with memory supply so low, that I am no longer able to access my iTunes and upload my growing stash of CDs.–  I am sitting here, trying to let those awful mini-corndogs pass through my stomach with out heaving them onto the cold cement floor of our basement. I am sitting at this computer, staring at my Tumblr dashboard, waiting for new pictures to appear. I am sitting at my computer trying to push aside thoughts of the grade 9 boy with a fading blue Mohawk whom rides my bus. Oh, yeah he’s a cutie, he looks like Ash Stymest. But I am mainly sitting at this computer to endeavor to get over the FML week I have had.

Today in math class we went over equation and simple integer problems that will show up on a test next Monday. We discussed the answers but they made absolutely no sense. The teacher called on students at random to answer. Everyone had the same answer but me. “Phoenix, what’s the answer?” she asked in a hurry. “I don’t know-” I was cut off by the laughter of the entire class. My face felt so hot, I wanted to cry with frustration. I yelled, “IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE.” The teacher ignored my words and moved on to another student. Two words: FUCK HER. I can’t seem grasp the concept of math.

Earlier this week, Wednesday, I was humiliated while going to see my good friend perform in The Nutcracker ballet as Clara. I went with my old school on a field trip because my mom could get me in for free. I sat with little fourth graders while my school band stared at me. Complete humiliation.

Yesterday I saw Eva at my siblings’ school. My mom said hi to her and she couldn’t even look at my mother. I felt so terrible. Her mom is gone and she has no one there for her emotional support. I wanted to cry right then and there for her, but I couldn’t. I have to be strong for Max and Eva, but god I am too weak. My tongue swells in my mouth. I cried that night.

I don’t know what to do with myself. My body just won’t settle for anything. I can no longer stay still to read a book, but nor do I care to even bother reading one. My writings are turning into desperate ramblings; stories of how I wish my life could or would turn out; simple lists and tired words. I spend my afternoons unhappily rushing through homework and then plopping down in front of the computer screen for a couple hours.

Christmas is a week away and I could care less. Santa will give me coal. I have been a very mean girl this year. I swear, Adam Lazzara, I’m a wishful thinker with the worst intentions. I just want it to be summer; I need to hear its noises in my ear. I am already looking forward to Warped Tour.

Song of the Day    [it’s a link]

Confessions of a shopaholic

December 13, 2009

For me, I find spending my money therapeutic. I will wait until I have at least $100 and burn a whole in my pocket, spending almost every last cent. I am an obsessive power shopper who can’t stand to save her money. – I will tell it to you straight. I do not have a bank account. I do not have money saved. I earn my money babysitting. I have no money saved for college. My parents are broke. I am now broke.

I am a greedy person who spends too freely. I am a hopeless shopaholic and I hate it. I am an impulse buyer, though most of the time I like what I purchase I need to slow down. I still want more, and for that I am greedy. I have a desire to replace all of my old with new. I really need to slow down. Take my money away from me, hide it away and lock it up.

I think I do this because when I am shopping it takes my mind off of things or gives me something to do. When I get this explanation it only reinforces the fact that I NEED new friends. Friends that aren’t family, friends that aren’t too much older than me, friends that have similar music tastes and me, friends that aren’t afraid to look like dorks, friends who are okay with themselves, friends that stick with me, friends that talk to me, and most importantly, friends that I feel comfortable around and enjoy hanging out with. – After this I feel silly for acting so weirdly desperate.

So teach me, how do you find people you know you want to be friends with?

If you’re a bird, then I’m a bird.

December 8, 2009

If you’re a bird, then I am a bird.

The song “We Are Birds” has been on replay in my head all evening. Brighten are another one of my recent loves. Justin Richards has such an angelic voice, it’s so cooing and sweet. Yet at the same time this song has a tinge of sadness when you hear it. It is a love song, but hear a slight catch in Justin’s voice. The guitar is strumming softly in the background.

This song fits me perfectly. There is always a catch. I will keep living, I will keep walking, but everyday is a replay a shadow of the last one. Same routine, same plan. Just make it another day and you’ll be fine. When this all blows over you will be glad you made it through. Anne, I wish you would have waited. I still look back. While most of us are rebounding, Max and Eva won’t and they never fully will. Jane, I am listening to you. I will not let this sadness become me and I have gotten over most of it. Though similar to “We Are Birds” there is still a pinch of sadness.

I smile when I think of the Meet The Robinsons motto, “Keep moving forward.” As you may have noticed this post is an endeavor of self encouragement. I am not trying to feel sorry for myself or give you any bullshit about being “depressed” because that is not what I am doing at all. No in fact, I find comfort in writing out what I feel and since I have not written on this blog o’ mine recently, I decided why not put this post out.

Anyway I would love if everyone who read this post will listen to these two songs.  \”We Are Birds\” Mindy White (cover) and \”We Are Birds\” by Brighten. (click the words, it’s a click-through link)