Millions of Cutout Faces

Envying gazes,

Cutout faces;

Our lingering lies,

And broken amber eyes.

Her dull eyes faintly rest on the camera while flashing a beautiful smile, even as she thinks to herself, "I'm so stupid."

8/26/09

Last year, I got this calendar. It's the paper kind that you see in offices with little notes under the date written all over the place. So it was on sale for a dollar at the store, and my mom asked me if I wanted to get it. At first, I had no clue what to do with it, but for some odd reason, I said yes, and I bought it, took it home, and found out that it didn't fit on my desk. Great. So then I decided to stuff it underneath my bed, and write what happened underneath the date, everyday. So I did. And now I am completely addicted.
It's a lot easier and less sappy than a diary, with still something to say, you know? And it's a lot quicker, and takes just three minutes to jot something- anything that you thought was funny or horrible -down. All this time I've been writing, I haven't even looked over what I had been writing for almost a year in tiny boxes. And the first date I read was today, a year ago.
It's odd reading something from a year ago, on the exact date, still someone you've yet to come. I've always wondered to myself, Gee, I wonder what I was doing on this exact date, identical time, three years ago. And let me tell you, reading it gave me the chills. Almost like looking in the mirror, and seeing yourself, but with a mask on. You can see all the flaws, the differences, and all the mistakes. It's creepy.If I could go back in time, I would have told myself this: Stop worrying about all the small things. Just look in the mirror. I mean, really, look. You're beautiful, stop changing yourself. Popularity and pretty faces and brands aren't everything, actually, they're nothing. You should think more about the good things about yourself, instead of tearing everything apart, trying to morph into something you're not, and never will be. Just live. Say yes when he asks you out with that pleading look in his blue eyes, leave your hair alone, and open your eyes. Open them, look around for a minute. It's a really beautiful place.
But I can't tell myself this. I can only warn myself now.
Today may have been average, typical, boring, but someday you'll look back on it and smile for what it was.

I turn around and he's standing in the middle of the hall, smiling at me, but I can't think of anything to say. We stay like that for a minute until he inclines his head and goes where he's going and I'm alone, like I've wanted forever, except that's not really true because mom's waiting for me outside and there's a shrink waiting for me in the city and there's nothing I can do about the past.
- Parker in Cracked Up to Be by Courtney Summers, p. 214

Guess I've waited too long for me to allow you to come up and sweep me into your arms like you always said you wanted to, huh? You used to let me wear your sweatshirt over my own in the rain, even when all you had underneath was a tee shirt. You let me keep your gloves, which I still sometimes drag out from the basement where we keep the winter stuff and press my nose to them, making me feel things again like I used to. I can still feel your hands around my waist as we moved around the yard dancing like complete idiots together in the freezing cold, my teeth chattering in happiness. I remember walking through the woods, even when my mom had no clue where I was. I remember whenever I was sad, you'd crouch down next to me and lean into my face, whispering something totally stupid into my ear that would make me crack up laughing. I remember the conversations in my front yard after school that were endless and the words would roll off my tongue with ease. I still know the nickname you gave me, even when you think I don't. I remember all those times you asked me out, and even while I was screaming yes inside, I'd always say no.
Why why why why why why why not?
You're the only guy that's ever given me the time of day, and now I don't even trust my girlfriends to tell my secrets to.
I miss you so much, trying to be content with the memories of when I was truly, fully happy.

It's My Life

I've recently decided to give up my music lessons. It's not that I hate them, I'm just more interested in other things now, like writing and painting. Sometimes in order to live to the fullest, you have to give up things that have been apart of you for years. Right? You never know if it's the right thing to do until you actually do it and risk it all. So that's what I'm gonna do. I'm quiting.
What boils my blood is the fact that my family says I shouldn't, and I should keep taking lessons, as always, as usual. But here's the thing: I don't want to keep taking lessons that I dread every week, or perform twice a year. I'm not like the other girls there who wear wooden clogs and long braids (not trying to steryotype). I'm in there with my banged-up sneakers and skinny jeans, feeling like a sore thumb among all of the other girls who give me dirty looks when they pass. So why not try something else? Why is such a problem to everyone else that I'm trying to be happy and just me?
Everyone else thinks they can tell me what to do, but again, it's my life, always has been. It's not for everyone else to yank around and fit into their lives. My mom's okay with it, but everyone else just doesn't get it.
I'm going to do what's best for me, not for them.

Summertime

"In this job", Morgan told me after a dinner rush, "You get a lifetime of experience every day. A crisis will crop up, worsen, come to a head and resolve itself all in fifteen to thirty minutes. You don't even have time to panic. You just push through." ~ Morgan in Keeping the Moon, p. 51

I've always wanted to do that, and this year, I finally did:

Summertime is an incredible stretch of weeks that's a clean slate, the perfect time for anything to happen, and sometimes I wonder why it's not my favorite time of the year. There are many reasons why I love summer, and sometimes, I don't even notice them. And that's sad.

I love when the frogs and crickets hum lazily in the woods late at night, and staying at the beach all day, your hair curly and stiff from the saltwater and sand, face freckled from the sun. Then, once it's time to go and pack your things up, you just feel perfectly content sleeping the whole way home, the sounds of the beach still lingering, lingering in your head. I love sitting outside in the dark, the warm dirt and sweat on your forehead cooling, feet black from running around all day. I love taking pictures and laughing. I love eating ice cream, because sometimes, ice cream just seems to be able to melt all your troubles away. I love not caring about my hair or a schedule. I love swimming, pushing through the water slowly, and thoughtfully, and then diving under, cooling everything off, the only sound around you being the whirl of bubbles spinning around your head.
Gotta love that.

I was tagged by Sanchez (The Inky Finger Files) to fill in 12 likes, and 8 hates, like in Cassie's therapy video. So here's how mine turned out.
Acabradabra, wow!
I like boys with big green eyes and girls who can see themselves past a mirror.

I like 90's pop culture and classic rock.

I like the smell of oil paint, and the taste of black tea.

I like flats and legwarmers. Ray Bans also rock.

I like O.P.I.

I like those days when you're outside all day and are incredibly happy just sitting there.

I like windy back roads.

I like picking blueberries and peaches in the orchards.

I like mental health days.

I like homemaid chocolate chip cookies.

I like laying under my blankets in the morning when they're cozy and the air is shivery.

I like my neighbor, also my best friend.

I love the ocean.

Today I re-read my favorite stories over and had went swimming.
In some ways, I love everything. It's less, it's less of a thing to like, it's less distinct, it's less particular, I like things that I like but I love everything. There's more choice in like, cos even the worst things have things you love in them.

I hate the fact that it's hard for me sometimes to live in the moment.

I hate that everyone thinks they all have depression these days, and they need medication when they really don't.

I hate materialistic people.

I hate letting the sun go down on my anger.

I hate being restless and bored.

I hate the government.

I hate thinking so much, but in a way love it, because I've learned so much about life along the way.

I hate thinking about what I hate.

I hate this, wow...

Sorry.

I'm tagging laura marie (a diary of little things and curiousities), RaNdOM RAWR (RaNdOM RAWR), and Chloe (Butterfly Cupcakes & Daffodils).

Mush

I have this notebook. It's purple and just a plain old 1 subject notebook with the metal spirals on it, and I write everything I can think of in it. I write a lot of poems for fun that I'll never show anybody but myself, and it's all in that notebook, along with little passages to books I've written for fun, and quotes, and song lyrics. Sometimes I even print out little posts from other peoples blogs that I think are incredible and tape them onto the pages, and they don't even know it. Someone's gonna find it, they will, and that's okay with me. In fact, I want somebody to find it, to read it all, and most important, to understand every little secret I'm keeping. I've been writing and drawing in that notebook all day. Today is just one of those days where it's been pouring since last night off and on and all there is to do is sit around in your pajamas and spend the whole day writing and drinking cup after cup of tea, and then at night watch a movie with salted Jiffy Pop on the couch. So that's what I've been doing, and loving every moment, pushing that nagging voice saying stop being lazy and get up and do something useful to the side for awhile to just enjoy myself. It's that kind of day where it's okay to eat a spoonfull of sugary frosting all to yourself, or look at pictures on weheartit.com all day till your brain turns to mush. So be it.

I love mental health days. And frosting's good, too.

Firefly Flurries

Lively memories flicker across my eyelids, a blurred slideshow, and tug at my throat
And my heavy glowing eyes
All those sickly-sweet memories that have shaped me into who I am,
Vivid nights etched into the velvety darkness, among all those wild fireflies.

With nothing in my hands but a battered and torn up map of the ragged coast, I wish I could just kiss my parents g'night and climb into a junky car. If I could, I'd drive along the coast in a convertable, the wind blowing and whirling around my face while I blasted the radio. My Ray Bans would glint against the reddish gold sunset, and I'd just pull along side the road and stare out at the sparkling ocean, wondering if anything could be better than this...

Too bad, I can't drive.

I'm Okay

I got tagged by Amy (A Tree Grows) to do a four things activity. Okay, here goes nothing...

Four Things in My Bag:

1. Purple and black pens

2. Stretchy book covers with tons of holes in them

3. Lavender lotion

4. Burts Beeswax chapstick

Four Things in My Purse:

Actually, I don't have a purse.

Four Things in My Room:

1. Old porcelean dolls in my closet

2. My laptop

3. Nail polish

4. Cutout drawings that I've been making faster than my brain can think of them :)

Four Things I've Always Wanted to Do:

1. Write and publish a book

2. Raid a yardsale of all the good stuff

3. Travel to Europe (typical, yes)

4. Take a midnight walk that only I would ever know about

Four Things I'm Currently Into:

1. Painting and cutouts, since I'm an art junkie at heart

2. Flats

3. Peanut butter

4. Living in the moment so I can stop thinking so much!

Four Things I Bet You Didn't Know About Me:

1. I hate movies

2. I can't think of anything else!
Four Songs I Can't Get Out of My Head:

1. Welcome to Paradise by Green Day

2. Paparattzi (and I don't even like the song) by Lady Gaga

3. I don't know the name of the song, but it goes, "Dream, dream, dream, dream!"

4. Spiderwebs by No Doubt

I'm tagging Joy (Life of Joy.), audrey. (emotions explode), and xoxo, Hannah (Perfection.). Sorry, I don't know how to add a link with people's names, so I have to do it by their blog titles. Since I don't really have much else to say, I'll post some pictures that I love:

I love the flats and legwarmers combo. Maybe I'll try that this year... are legwarmers considered tacky or slightly vintage? Does anyone know?

This picture inspires me to write something, anything that has some meaning and depth. So maybe I will...

My puzzle may be scattered everywhere, stray pieces attempting to find their way again, but I've decided that it's okay. I'm okay. I've been trying so long to put together myself, the stew of my puzzle, but now I've realized that I am never going to be complete, perfectly knowing all, because life is always throwing something at me, just another piece to my flawlessly chaotic jigsaw puzzle pile. Instead of trying to pick up the pieces and go home, I'm letting them lie there, gathering dust so I can get a better look at things and examine them, looking at them in ways I never imagined real. I guess this is me being me, changing a little everyday, always becoming something different.

And it's all going to be okay.

...Well, I guess I really did have something to say, huh?

Life is Sickly-Sweet

Cupcakes have been calling me all week. Maybe it's just because they're so sweet and perfect, because they bring people together with their sweetness that may make you sick, but in the end, it was all worth it. You can add whatever you want to your cupcake so it's not like any other, but beneath the frosting and the cupcake holders, it's all made up of the same thing. They symbolize life and people in general. I like to think of myself as a cupcake, I guess."The flavor you pick says a lot about a person."
"You've given this a lot of thought", I say.
"That's pretty much my life during third period. Running errands. Developing candy-based theories about people's personalities."
Suddenly, picking up a flavor seems to hold a lot of weight. I decide on a grape, my favorite.
"Interseting", he says. He puts the bag of candy back in the file cabinet and turns to watch as I unwrap the Jolly Rancher and put it in my mouth.
"So, what's your theory?", I ask.
"It's complicated", he says. "I'll give you the short version for now." I like the way he says "for now". It hints that there is a "later" out there somewhere. "Grape people are artistic and like to be alone a lot."
"What about a cherry?", I ask.
"Cherry people are nice." He says "nice" like I'd say "boring".
"I almost picked a raspberry", I say.
"Interesting", he says, nodding. "Raspberry people are adventerous. Risk takers." I'm not sure that's me at all.
"What about the others?", I ask.
"Watermelon people are popular." He digs in the bowl, pulling out each flavor as he talks about it. "Apple people try too hard." He pulls out a yellow one and looks at it.
"How about lemon?", I ask.
"Lemon people are mean", he says. "You don't want to get on the bad side of a lemon person."
- Penny and Marcus in The Cupcake Queen, p. 53-54

Life is sickly-sweet.

The More Things Change

These are the kind of nights that make me remember,

with the smell of burning wood wafting through the air and weaving its way through the trees

and the summer air now cool, vivid, and alive.

They make me remember the butterflies,

the cooling sweat slicked across my skin that smelled of dirt and something else sweet,

and how we used to be happy.

They also make me remember how much I've changed, too.

There is a Reason for This, You Know

Flaxen hair blown out in the breeze
It is time for the geese to head south
I have come with my mustard seed
I cannot accept that she will be taken from me.

"Do you know who I am", she said
"I am the one who taps you on the shoulder when it's your time
Don't be afraid I promise that she will awake
Tomorrow somewhere
Tomorrow somewhere."

Wrap yourself around
The tree of life and the dance of the infinity
Of the hive
Take this message to Michael.

I will comb myself into chains
In between the tap dance clan
And your ballerina gang
I have come for the beekeeper
I know you want my
You want my queen
Anything but this
Can you use me instead?

In your gown with your breathing mask
Plugged into a heart machine
As if you ever needed one
I must see the beekeeper I must see if she'll keep her alive
Call engine 49 I have come with my mustard seed.

"Maybe I'm passing you by
Just passing you by girl
I'm passing you by
On my way
On my way.
I'm just passing you by
But don't be confused
One day I'll be coming for you...
I must see the beekeeper
I must see the beekeeper.
- The Beekeeper, Tori Amos

These lyrics are what have made up my childhood, I guess. They've kept me sane through all my worries. That's the great thing about songs. They teach you life lessons around stories. Sometimes, I think they can be even better than books. In the rain, I hum these same words to myself, and lull myself to sleep.

Flying Sleeves

Laying underneath my canopy of trees shaped into a crooked cresent, towering over me, I couldn't help but feel vividly alive. My arms were slicked in a dusting of dirt and sweat, but with the cool air gently kissing my arms and the branches rustling above, it feels just right at that moment in time, and anything else would have been too much. My arms were a slight achy and my hair damp after running around and around the yard, feeling invincible, my heart hammering in my chest and my calves burning. It was the kind of moment in time that I've been searching for too long, almost forgetting what it feels like to laugh for no given reason, or feel alive and feeling like I was having the time of my life.

"It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right

I hope you had the time of your life."

I'm still a child at heart, I don't want to be a teenager. I'm happy still playing outside and pretending that the trees have minds of their own. I love doing what I'm doing. So I'll do it.

Today, I bought a sweatshirt with raglin sleeves that are so soft and lightweight It is the best thing I think I've ever bought. I can see myself running into the waves by the ocean, my hair spraying out in back of me, or maybe me up on a hill, poised to run down it, the sleeves flying out in back of me.

I haven't been this happy in awhile. Sorry 'bout all the depressing posts I've been giving you lately. I really am.

It's So She Can Fly

I need to do something. I need to do something out of the ordinary. Something unlike me, or maybe, even something true to me instead of what I've been doing, which is nothing. I've been hiding, I've been crying, I haven't been living. I've been a pathetic mumbling mess complaining about the crap in my head even when my life is fine.
I want to take a midnight walk in the woods by myself and stare up at the wickedly ghostly trees overhead.
I want to do nothing but work outside for a whole day, and get that achy feeling at the end of it all, smiling to myself.
I want to take a risk.
I want clockwork to stop controlling me! Just because summer's gonna end, doesn't mean that all hope has to, too.
I want to smile and laugh and stop posting despressing posts.

I want to live.

Everyone sets these plans for themselves at the beginning of the summer, a list of what they want to accomplish and get done or start, and most of it never happens the way things were intended to. Plans change, people change. I'd say that I've changed in a way over the summer. I know I have, yet I still can't identify a specific day or week when it all changed. But I know I did.
I'm a work in progress. We all are, and always will be.

"I don't get it", Caroline said, bemused. "She's the only one with wings. Why is that?" There were so many questions in life. You couldn't ever have all the answers. But I knew this one. "It's so she can fly", I said. And then I started to run." ~ Macy in The Truth About Forever, p. 368

Blink

Max: Did you make this?

Carol: Yeah, yeah.

Max: It's very good.

Carol: We were gonna make a whole world like this. Now, everyone used to come here, but you know... you know what it feels like when all your teeth are falling out really slowly and you don't realize and then you notice that, well, they're really far apart. And then one day... you don't have any teeth anymore.

Max: Yeah.

Carol: Well, it was like that.

- Where the Wild Things Are, the movie version

Blink, and you'll miss it all.