March 8, 2010
I would like to set a goal for myself and for anyone who wants to tag along. All this week I will listen to only happy music. I will admit I sold out and began listening to Never Shout Never, but that is only because I read his article in AP magazine (he seems like a really nice, incredibly cool person). Today is a start because I got off the bus and the spring feeling filled me up like a glass of water, washing away any bad feelings. The first song that popped into my head as I began to walk down the sidewalk was “This Is The End” by The Maine, so I sang the words to myself and smiled. It made me happy just hearing John Ohh’s voice inside my head.
It is about 63 degrees outside and sunny with a slight overcast sky and a cooling breeze. The best type of weather I would say: cardigan weather. – When I reached my front porch I found my dad sitting there reading a book. I walked into the house and smiled at the reflection of my wildly curly hair and then placed my copy of The Maine’s Can’t Stop, Won’t Stop album into my CD player. I have begun to think of music in seasons and I can tell you The Maine sound so much like spring. The grass is starting to green and small flowers coil around fences only to be picked up and set in little girls’ hair.
I received several hugs today from Trinh and Taylor and reminisced with M and A about our day yesterday gallivanting around the neighborhood. (We walked over to The Sweet Guy and picked up gelatos, stopped at two parks, had a duel with the plastic and wooden swords I brought over, were chased by our younger brothers on scooters, told jokes about Geico Car Insurance, and made a sanctuary.) School wasn’t so bad and thankfully my science class didn’t have to make up the quiz about electricity and whatnot.
Right now while I am still listening to The Maine I just want to run or have someone to dance with. I am really hoping to the goddess Athena and even the titan Cronus that something good will come of this weather. I need something good in my life that will lift these heavy spirits. There are too many people and good friends that I know who are extremely depressed right now. Who knows maybe Elisha from HOLY Mountain will introduce me to some cool people (who are NOT annoying and immature) who just get music. Or maybe nothing will happen and I will just talk to him with Jane after their show on the 22nd.
“She could be rainy days, minimum wage, a book that ends with no last page. Whoever she is, whoever she may be one thing’s for sure, you don’t have to worry.” – The Maine
January 14, 2010
I don’t deserve anything I have. All the records I put forth my own money to purchase, my favorite grey sweater, and my favorite feather pillow with a deep green case. What have I ever done for anyone else?
I want to change the way I react to things. I know it is because of the build up of all the events of my day, but those feelings come out all wrong. Like tonight when I got mad at my little sister. I hurt her and she started crying and I had this smug grin spread my face. I’ll be honest- I am a bit sadistic, but I do feel bad afterwards. Though I know the next time I get mad my reaction won’t be much better. You can’t smother who you are, you can only bury it.
Today in geography class I heard about the earthquake in Haiti. (We are working on a writing piece about the earthquake.) Those people have nothing and suffer on a daily basis from poverty. They deserve what I have, a warm bed to sleep in, food on the table, and a cozy grey sweater. I know someone in that country is deserving of that.
Can you even believe it was a 7.0 earthquake? In geography class we looked at a map of tectonic plates and the earthquake wasn’t deep but Haiti was practically sitting on the Caribbean plate boundary so they got the worst of the plate shifting. And to think, they were just preparing for hurricane season when this hit. It’s estimated over 3 million people were killed, injured, or trapped underneath buildings. One of the worst parts, every single road is blocked and there is hardly anything we can do at the moment with an aftershock soon to hit.
When I told the news to my parents, trying to start conversation or debate the topic, the news didn’t seem to bother them at all. And that crushed me. I feel horrible and nothing has even happened to me. Now I sit here hoping the sound of Stephen Christian’s voice in “*Fin” will soothe me.
“Empty is the sky before the sun wakes up.
Empty is the eyes of the animals in the cages.
Empty are the faces of women in mourning
when everything has be taken from them.
Me? Don’t ask me about empty.” – Chiodos
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
July 29, 2009
I was panicking. We were living in a house with other vampires (think “Breaking Dawn” by Stephenie Meyer) who have all caught a disease. I don’t know what the disease is called, but it’s making them really hungry. Hungry for human blood. And I’m trying to figure out how I’m going to die because I don’t want it to be a gore fest. Whenever I read about vampires and events similar to this, I am not frightened. Of course it’s a book, but now after dreaming this, vampires are definitely scary.
My mom came home and walked into the bathroom. I opened the door to see her rubbing a washrag over her eyes. My mom put down the washrag; one of her eyes was an intense shade of red. She informed me about the disease, which turns out, is the reason why all the other vampires left the house. “Your scent was calling me back,” my mother said. I froze up and left the room.
There was a woman in the kitchen working on wooden crates. “These are for when it comes,” she said. ‘It’ meaning the slaughter. “Who is that for?” I asked, pointing down to a small crate split in half. The woman replied, “Your sisters.” I was scared and panicking again. I called my youngest sister into the kitchen. She tried to fit into one side of the wooden box and it wasn’t working. It was too small. I looked up at the woman and said, “She doesn’t fit.”
I woke up from this dream thinking, Thank God vampires aren’t real.
Song Of The Day – “Chocolate” by Snow Patrol http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GV6-pVn3Yo0
July 5, 2009
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,
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,