I’m sinking like a stone in the sea.

June 6, 2009

6/6/09

I keep taking deep breaths because it feels like forgot how to breathe. I breathe too slow or to quick; not taking in enough oxygen or too much air. During the school year my little brother would breathe through his mouth heavily. Sometimes he would cry at night and I didn’t know why. It annoyed me terribly and I kept trying to explain to him why he didn’t need to breathe that way. Now I know the feeling. All of the sudden in the middle of the day I think, I don’t know what to do. You are probably thinking, About what? Well, I don’t know either. I just feel so utterly overwhelmed by everything. It’s summer time, right? I shouldn’t bother having to feel this way, but I do. And I am scared. I don’t know what will happen in a few hours or even a few days. Nobody really does. I mean, you might have a few events mapped out, but you don’t know what those moments of the day will feel like.

I went to my mother for advice and what she said was, “Just go and babysit. Once when you get home you can figure out what to do next.” I liked this idea, but this is all new for me. I’m used to planning out my day and setting goals, whether I realized it or not. This unpredictable schedule is throwing me off a bit. Today, I don’t want this day to slip away from me like all the other days do. Wasted and chasing time. Please time, stand still for only a day or two.

Brand New’s album Deja Entendu feels like my soundtrack. The events probably don’t quite match up, but the instrumentals capture my mood. In some songs Jesse Lacey almost whispers and I turn up my volume to savor his words. Especially in “Tautou”, which is one of my favorites though it’s only a minute and a half long.

I want to make this day last, but I don’t seem to know how. All I know is that I don’t want Monday to come. Please, not yet. If everyday was Saturday then I’d be fine with that. I’m still confused why I’m scared of what is next to come….


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….


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.


We Meet Again

February 1, 2009

I had waited all week to make my trip back to Hot Topic to see my favorite (realistic) vampire. It was almost postponed *gasp*. Thankfully I made an excuse to go down and see him, though my ride (mother) did not buy it. My younger sister’s birthday is coming up so I’d pick something out for her. (It’s quite funny, really. I have my little sisters listening to bands like My Chemical Romance, All Time Low, and Paramore. Then they’ll walk around the house singing the lyrics to “Teenagers” or as Eleanor would say, “Teenagerds”. Ha-ha!) I hope you don’t get the wrong idea and think I’m stalking him, only making a trip down to my second favorite store.

Eli is there and since it is Super Bowl Sunday, the mall is practically vacant.  I smile on the inside knowing that Eli is up at the counter. For some reason I don’t fell much excitement. That is the best part. I come down on a Sunday to end my week nicely with a feeling of excitement and joy, yet I feel plain. The feeling when you could smile at nothing for days, do cartwheels around the house, or get tingles on your arms?  Have I lost the feeling completely?

Walking around David, is nice as usual, asks the same ol’, “Do you need any help finding something?” or “You guys doin’ alright?” You have to admit, it can get a bit annoying. I found the belt I wanted. White with cute, colorful, little monster people on it. Unfortunately it is a little big, but at least it fits! For my younger sister I found a small, pink, plush, Domo doll which should fit, considering her birthday is on Valentines Day. I walk around a little, trying to time it right so Eli can ring up my items this time.

At last I am paying for my items and Eli asks, “Do you want to donate a dollar to a charity for kids so they can get a better music foundation and get one of those bags?” As he pointed to two black messenger bags. One with a skull and the other smaller one that reads “music = life” Or at least something like that. I was once again lost in my own little world, inside my head, not paying attention to what he was saying. I replied mindlessly, “Uh, sure.” While speaking to him, a heat reached my cheek bones. How many times must he make me blush?!?! Eek! I already had the smaller bag left over from Christmas. Eli replied, “Do you want the smaller one or the bigger one?” It took me a moment to reply and just said, “Um, you can just keep the dollar.” He rolled up my belt and handed me the Domo plush, our hands almost touched. I couldn’t help but to think, Jeez, he has ginormous hands!!! I decided to save a plastic bag and put my items into a Disney bag my mother and I had been carrying around.

I left the store, in the words of my friend Hannah, blushing Bella red.