Her dull eyes faintly rest on the camera while flashing a beautiful smile, even as she thinks to herself, "I'm so stupid."
Monday, August 30, 2010
Thursday, August 26, 2010
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.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
- 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.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
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.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
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.
I like boys with big green eyes and girls who can see themselves past a mirror.
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.
Monday, August 16, 2010
I love mental health days. And frosting's good, too.
Friday, August 13, 2010
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.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Four Songs I Can't Get Out of My Head:
"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
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Thursday, August 5, 2010
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
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.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
I haven't been this happy in awhile. Sorry 'bout all the depressing posts I've been giving you lately. I really am.
Monday, August 2, 2010
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