Be Somebody

March 4, 2009

If I had to choose one song to die to, I would never be able to choose. Thursday’s “Understanding In a Car Crash” is just so perfect to me. Almost like poetry. The lyrics are just so brutal and beautiful. The guitar puts you on edge as goosebumps crawl up and down your arms and legs. Hot tears bubbling at your eyes; deep breaths.

So push the seats back a little further
Roll the windows down and take a breath
I can see the headlights coming
They paint the world in red and broken glass
The spinning hubcaps set the tempo for
the music of a broken window
When the lights are on and the cameras click
We open up the lens to broken glass and it’s over in a flash

Or another favorite of mine is “The Scientist” by Coldplay. The lyrics, Nobody said it was easy. Nobody said it would be so hard. ring in my ears like they are something to live by. Honestly, living is the hard part, death could be rather easy. You just die. That’s it. Everything. Gone. Over. Nothing more than that. Now Lovedrug’s “Doomsday and the Echo” is oh so lovely. I adore every last lyric to this song. I cannot even begin to explain how much I love it. “Everything Starts Where it Ends” is brilliant as well, though there is something about “Doomsday and the Echo” that makes me itch over each sentence as though I should be analyzing it.

Can’t walk it off
Can’t come clean
               Later going on to…

Hey, just woke up and already I’m a losing
Messed up everything again
Drink up, pass the gun again
Hey, just woke up and already I’m a losing
Messed up everyone again
Someone pass the gun again

I got to thinking about this subject after thinking I was a failure. Playing guitar is one of my dreams and I have to succeed at it. Guitar lessons have been going… not so good. At least I don’t feel I’ve been doing nearly good enough. I want to friggen’ shred! I want to riff and rock. I want to be up on stage, sweat dripping from my body. Being a phenomenal performer such as Jason Hale or Jimi Hendrix. The spectacular sound as well, maybe the cleanest you’ve ever heard? I want to be the best of the best. Each lesson I’d like to be told I am amazing at guitar even if I am still a beginner. I would love for those words to be spoken honest and truthful. I guess plan “B”, which is writing, is what I should try to shoot for, for now. I’ll do my best to improve my writing each and every day. Giving every writing assignment 110% percent whether it is stupid or not. As most have you have heard the saying, “No problem.” let me introduce a new one to you all. No promises. 

Reader,  I don’t fully understand myself either, but leaving earth with a sad song just seems like a good way to go. When I die I want to be cremated, I want my (Alleged I suppose. Though trust me, Kat Von D IS going to tattoo me.) tattoos to tell my story before I am burned to ashes. I want them to play one of my song choices for death. I want to be remembered.

Current song of choice at the moment, “The Undertaker’s Thirst For Revenge Is Unquenchable (The Final Battle)” by Chiodos.

And all the world’s a stage
I existed because I dreamed
And well, I dream no more
I’ve given up on the entire human race


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.


“Here we go again”

January 14, 2009

“And here we go again, with all the things we said and not a minute spent. To think that we’d regret so we just take it back. These words and hold our breath, forget the things we swore we meant.” – Paramore “Here We Go Again”

Today the music teacher is absent. So Mr.”B” is substituting, which means the whole class will take advantage of him. Mr.”B” is a poetry writing, nice, intelligent, old man and doesn’t seem to have the nerve to get the class in his control. So while pens and pencils fly across the room, the radio is turned on, and students bang on instruments.

It started with a Sharpie. I grabbed an orange, Sharpie high-lighter. I drew on my shoe a bit and my friend Robby snatches it from my hand. I tug at the high-lighter, trying loosen his grip; no use. I just sit there as Mr.”B” tries to put cartoons on (Bugs Bunny to be exact.) I see Robby I wait a couple minutes go up to him and snatch the marker right back. My “friend” Sarah sees the marker and says, “I saw it first, Brennen took it away from my so give it here.” I don’t think she noticed I clenched my jaw in frustration. I am so sick of Sarah. One minute I think we are good friends, the next she is calling me a loser, or knifing me in the back by going along with people who are messing with me. So now Sarah grabs the marker and I plead, “Just let me use it for a second.” She smiles at me and says, “X’s.” “What?” I reply. I pondered what she was trying to get at, did she mean like when I go to concerts? Since I’m under 21 if I go to a certain concert venue they mark my hands with X’s, making sure I can’t try to purchase a drink. She murmurs, “Never mind, you aren’t smart enough to understand.” That set me off, yet again I didn’t show the emotion of anger. I’ve learned her tricks. If I tell her off she get mad and tells the whole school about the fight, then she’ll turn everyone against me, lie some more, and then say sorry. I hated this. It took me a minute to understand what I was getting myself into, though I went on. “Sarah, why do you talk like that? Why are you always calling me stupid or a loser?” Robby looked up at us and spoke jokingly, “C’mon guys! Why do we have to fight right now?” I gave him a look and sighed, “Robby.” “Yeah, why are you bringing this up right now so everyone can hear?” Sarah pushes. Isn’t it freaking obvious?! I responded, “Because you just did it a minute ago so I said it now.” “Yeah, but still.” said Sarah. I felt like slapping a hand to my forehead, what kind of answer was “Yeah, but still.”???!!! Sarah said something like, “Well, I was only joking and sorry if you didn’t get it.” I didn’t notice the sorry in there until a few minutes later when she said, “Fine. Then don’t accept my apology.” in that famous attitude of hers. I bulged my eyes and turned around. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.” and turned to face the TV once more. This seemed like a little thing to get mad over in my book, but she just kept going. “Oh, so you still don’t accept my apology.” I whipped around and said, “FINE. I’M SORRY!” I turned back around and heard her whisper, “B****” Are you kidding me I thought?! I was going crazy and acted upon my first impulse with hatred burning in my eyes. “I heard what you just said.” “You don’t know what I said-” I cut her off. “I know what you said you called me a b****.” “No I didn’t, who are you to tell me what I said?” My heart was pounding now. I was ready to scream right in her face. She’d never seen me like this because I had never let it escape, but it was so on right now. Call me a b****, you’ve crossed the line. “You always get mad at little things like this. And you did to call me a b**** I heard you so stop lying.” I turned around once more huffing like mad, attempting to slow my heart rate. I swear my heart was beating so fast, so hard.

Sarah scooted back in her chair far away from me. I pretended to keep my attention to the TV while I was writing out the whole story in my head. Every so often I would glance around the room. Once I saw Sarah talking to Veronica and Giselle, most likely about me. I didn’t give a damn, I don’t need crappy friends anyway. My fingers were crossed as I hoped they wouldn’t come over and do Sarah’s dirty work. What did I expect? Veronica sat by me for a while, I thought she could be decent enough not to say a word about the argument. Nope. Wrong. She said she hoped Sarah and I would make up. I didn’t reply to that at all.  I was absolutely sure I wouldn’t make up with her, I wanted this to last so she wouldn’t keep coming back, repeating the same patterns. By the time I had looked up again, Sarah was in a corner feeling all sorry for herself. Another one of her tricks. Kids will come over to her and ask, “What’s wrong?’ and she’ll tell them the whole story after she was told me not to say a word about “our business”.

On the way out of music class Veronica tells me, “Sarah wasn’t calling you a b****, she said she was calling herself one.” I was thinking, riiiight (note sarcasm). Instead of saying that I just narrowed my eyes. Once we got back to our classroom Ms.____ was reading. About half way through the end of her reading Sarah passed me a note. It was telling me “how sorry she was and that she was calling herself the b****.” It also told me to circle yes, no, or maybe, if I accepted he apology. I couldn’t believe this. I wanted to circle maybe or no, but instead I said yes. What kind of idiot am I???  So she hands me the notebook on the sly again with another note scribbled on it. Sarah wrote something like, “You are such a good friend if you accepted my apology.” All I was thinking was, Or maybe I’m just a really good liar.