We’re screaming at the same moon.

August 20, 2009

Craig Owens’s screaming is calming me down right now. It’s keeping me in the clouds. His screaming does two things for me. Either I want to headbang to the sound of Chiodos’s music or I want to go to relax to it. Not that it’s boring, but that it calms me down and puts me in a mixture of reality and fiction. It’s like I could pretend I feel the same way as Craig did after his first love broke his heart (thus he wrote an album about her). Yet this time I feel more like the instrumental rather than the lyrics. It’s like when I was listening to Brand New’s Déjà Entendu record.

Press my face up against the glass
with both eyelids shut and
baby this won’t get any easier
baby this won’t get any easier
baby this won’t get any easier

I’ll lie on the dirty carpeting in my room (that can’t be fixed unless we were willing to pay for new wood floors) and breathe. I like taking deep breaths because it makes me feel a little better. It takes some of the frustration away. — I sound cheesy again. — When I push all the frustration back I feel like and old toy disguised as a new one.

It’s not a big deal. It has been three weeks since my last guitar lesson but I’m mad at myself. This is part of learning, but I am always angry at myself for not knowing what he might throw at me. School starts next week. I was supposed to read two non-fiction books from a list they sent me. I lost the list and didn’t read the books. I have to be tested on them. I guess I’m just looking for more stuff to mope about.

We all have our good days and our bad days, yesterday was a mixture of the two.

Song Of The Day – “No Hardcore Dancing In The Living Room” by Chiodos http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wJCX_Nit388

chiodos lyrics

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I’m Sorry

July 5, 2009

7/5/09

I’m sorry;
it’s easier for me to write these things than say them.
I just can’t back down,
I can’t “lose”.
I don’t want to have to give in to apologies.
Showing that maybe we are even,
when I want to be one point ahead.

“Sticks and stones may break my bones,
but words will never hurt me.”
Why, that is a lie.
People tell me all the time
that my words are more powerful than I think.
I never believed them because I was the person
on the other side.
The one saying all those hurtful things.

I was frustrated, but I know it was uncalled for.
How did I let just one word slip from my mouth?
I’m sorry, I truly am.
After the guilt settled in my stomach
I knew I would have to say it.
That I AM sorry, but I can’t.
It seems I’ve gone mute
and shame myself for all that I’ve ever said.
Hide away in my room,
embarrassed.

It has never been easy for me, saying sorry.
Sometimes I say it with my fingers crossed behind my back,
other times I mumble it,
and now I finally do mean it.
Yet I can’t come to say it to your face
because you have won in this “battle”
(that you don’t know you’re playing).

You might forgive me, maybe not.
Though something similar might just happen again,
but things just won’t be the same.
I could be making a big deal out of this,
but it was a pretty bad idea.
I just didn’t take the time to think,
well, I guess I did, but it just came out of my mouth
rather then staying put inside my head.

Will this have to end in slamming doors
or will you read this and forgive me?
I know I’m in trouble
and the guilt keeps nagging, “Stop keeping me in suspense!”
Maybe by the time you read this, things will have cooled off.
I am at loss of words all I can say is,
I’m sorry.


It remains a mystery.

June 13, 2009

6/12/09

This week has been tiring. Waking up at six in the morning to attend summer school. Though this summer school is really just an orientation to prepare me for the new school year, I am no fan. Each day in PE I have had to do ninety crunches, ten or more push-ups, wall squats, running (but that was pretty easy and surprisingly fun) and today an exersize called six inches. I can handle the crunches but those darn push-ups make my wee little arms wobble. Yes, I do have muscles, but they aren’t massive.
The school days are fairly short (they end at 12:20 PM) yet there is still the bus ride home. I don’t even have any idea how many kids ride my bus, but it can take up to an hour for me to make it safely back to my front door. The bus driver is no help. Whenever she nears my house she passes it up for another stop farther away. That annoys me. A lot. All I can say right now is thank gawd for Fridays!!

I sighed in relief when I got home. I just wanted some time to myself, to think. Extra time to listen to my favorite albums and more importantly, time to write!

I was on the computer this afternoon, checking my email when my mother suggested she would take me to the mall. Or should I say Hot Topic? I was excited to spend the last of my money because I am no good at saving it, and I had enough for a T-shirt or two. If any of you have read some of my previous posts, the first thing that came to mind was Eli. I have never seen him there on a Friday night, but it’s summer time now, schedules change, so you never know. I won’t lie, my heart did feel a little odd. It felt like it sped up for a second.

I walked into Hot Topic wearing my new plaid, blue and pink, button-down Urban Outfitters shirt. (I was glad I could wear my fancy new shirt out.) I didn’t know what I was looking for in Hot Topic. I hadn’t been into Hot Topic for ages it seemed. But I did have a Kings Of Leon shirt in mind. This winter someone *cough, cough* Lance *cough, cough* told me they didn’t like Kings Of Leon. I acted mock appalled and “gasped”. You see, I like irony so the next time I see him with his kids I’ll say, “Oh yeah, KINGS OF LEON BABY!” and point to my shirt. Ironic, eh?

I looked around the store, no Eli. I was almost affraid he didn’t work there anymore (and I still am actually). So I browsed the CD section and eyed the employee picks intensely. I couldn’t see Eli’s name anywhere. It’s not like I talk to him or anything, but it would be nice to see a cute guy’s face every once and a while. To see his clammy pale face matched with dark brown, almost black hair. Sweet eyes and golden eyelashes. His slight frame and dare I say swagger? This may sound creepy, but if a guy you think is cute kinda likes you too that’s not so bad (or at least acts like he likes you). I can easily say I am a hopeless romantic, but I’m not searching for love. Not at this age, no friggen’ way man.

I waked out of Hot Topic with the Kings Of Leon shirt (it even has their faces on it) and an Emily The Strange leopard print tank top. (It seems HT has stopped selling Zotz. Oh, how I will miss those dear Zotz.)
I talked my mom into purchasing a fabulous pair or Baker heels. They have a jeweled cuff around the ankle that almost look like bracelets. They look like those beads you can find in the ocean in Mexico. I think she is happy, she hasn’t splurged on shoes lately.

What my point is, it remains a mystery to me if “Mr. Eli Cullen” is or is not still and employee working at Hot Topic.


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.


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.


What a Day

January 29, 2009

Today I was shadowing at the school I will go to next school year. It was nerve wracking thinking about it, even though I was only going to follow a girl around her school all day. I had to be awake by six thirty this morning to make it on time. School starts at 7:10 for them, which sucks for me. The school is in the downtown area which is about a twenty minute drive.

I arrived at the school building feeling panicky, my mouth kept twitching with anxiety. (What a wuss!) I had to go through the metal detectors, then into the office where I waited for a girl named Rose. I stood there with my little bag which held a couple pens, a notebook, my lunch, and a book (“Burned” by Ellen Hopkins to be exact). When Rose arrived my mother signed a slip and left. She turned and looked at me, smiled, and spoke, “Your lip just twitched.” then gave me a half hug. Rose and I were then asked to the guidance counselor’s office to be asked questions about the shadowing. It took a couple minutes, but was taken care of with a phone call to my mother.

While I was in a few of her classes I had time to make a couple journal entries. My first was in her French class, first period.

Journal entry #1

There isn’t one boy in the classroom. I looked around the room several times to see all girls populating the classroom. The class was interesting. When they spoke in French it sounded intriguing, minus the fact I hadn’t a clue what they were saying. The words that were flowing off their tongues sounded so… hmmm… interesting, though that isn’t the right word. Oh well. The teacher seemed nice I suppose, though I haven’t known her long enough. Challenging for sure, at least from my perspective. Maybe this is a class I might want to think about taking up, it is just the comprehending part I’m worried about. The students were reading from their books, as the teacher would call out names to read sentences (some girls were obviously unsure about what they were reading). Then we had to listen to an audio tape and identify what they were saying. To end class, they played a game where the teacher would call out a word in French and the first person to write out the word in English, correctly, would earn their team a point.

 SCHEDULE 7:10 -2:10

– French

– Health

– ??

– Band

– Lunch

– Latin

– Geography

– English

A couple hours passed and I didn’t write a thing, but I did read. Health was scary. The kids were crazy, loud, rude, creepy, disrespectful. The whole deal. I just sat there staring at the pages I was easily reading. Afraid to look up, feeling like a million pairs of eyes would be staring at me. I recognized a kid who used to go to my school. Only because of his neon, lime green Converse, I saw. Then I looked up to see his long brunette hair that I remembered. Finally the bell (buzzer really) rang and I was saved.

The name of the next class was unknown to me and I never found out. I felt more comfortable in this room. As I read more of my book. I held a uni-ball pen in my hand for no reason really, just something to hold onto to boost my comfort zone (like wearing jackets ALL the time). A girl Rose was friends with talked to me. Mainly about books. She said had read “Burned” and told me it was amazing. I then noticed she was carrying “Thirteen Reasons Why” around and we both agreed it was pretty good. 

Band was next. Rose didn’t really stop back at her locker so we kept on walking  (rushing) down to the band room. In that room I recognized another boy from my school, his name is Austen. He is quite mischievous, he looked the same in the face, maybe a little more mature. Medium brown skin with a vague red tint. Whatever. Unfortunately I didn’t have much time to read during band. Though the class did not play their instruments, instead they filled a work packet while the teacher handed me one to look over.

LUNCH. Whooo!! Eating lunch was easy. Talked with a couple more of Rose’s friends. One who I thought was awful, the other liked the same kind of music as me. In fact we both said we loved Brendon Urie from Panic At The Disco, and I told her I saw them in June of last year. She was in shock that they even came here and then it turned to fake sadness. I ate most of my lunch, while still being asked, “Are you new here?” (which got rather annoying). Yet, I still felt like the odd one out. After lunch we shimmied back up the steps to Latin.

Journal entry #2

Latin. It’s interesting so far. Though I am yet to hear someone speak the language. I was handed a quiz paper and a book, even though the teacher was told I was shadowing. He told the class all of the questions to the test can be answered on page 175 in the book. I thought, What the heck, might as well fill it out. Not knowing the timer would go off I took my sweet time writing down the answers. I think I wrote down at least six, complete sentence, answers when the timer went off. With that I think I’ll just recycle the paper, besides I won’t be back here until next school year. The teacher started asking the questions from the test, which lead in to other discussion. The teacher seems nice, humorous, or at least trying. Though I haven’t seen him mad so I can’t label too soon.

Geography made me freak out. I didn’t like it, but I don’t really like school at all so…. I was in the front row, yet I still had trouble reading what was on the board.  They were taking a pop quiz and when I didn’t answer the question I felt (and heard) kids getting mad at me. I felt like the teacher was staring me down, maybe I was just paranoid. My next journal entry.

Journal entry #3

Okay so I know I want to come here next year. It is definitely challenging. The only things I’m afraid of are the early mornings (gotta be up by six and there by seven), the students, a couple teachers, and the hallways in between classes. Hopefully I’ll have a few friends to face it with me. Right now I’m going to try and relax before the time comes at the end of August. (And during the last week of summer break that I’ll have to “prep” for those wonderful (note sarcasm) early mornings.)

English was okay. I wish they had a better teacher, but I didn’t see the students “in action” either. My last journal entry.

Journal entry #4

So this is Rose’s last class, English. She told me about her “bipolar” teacher, I guess could agree. Things are pretty simple at the moment. The class is tame (which is again, mainly populated by girls). They are correcting and finishing their papers, while I read some more. I’ve gotten some great reading in today. Though not much writing time because I’m afraid kids will read my notes. Back to the book – My mom picked up a copy of “Burned” by Ellen Hopkins for me yesterday night and I’ve already devoured 350 pages. YAAYYYY!!

Once the bell rang I grabbed my things out of Rose’s locker and waited for her to show me back down to the office. I walked into the office to find my mother waiting for me.