21st Century Breakdown

Guess what? The title of this post actually doesn't apply to me for once. But yesterday it did.
I'm just so overwhelmed lately about everything. Life, death, wasting time, family, living in the moment, my self-esteem that I'm trying to keep up with. Sometimes, it feels like there's nowhere to run. I just want to pull the plug on my thoughts, which are going at warped speed, and say "Just shut up, keep quiet, and look around you." Some days, though, I don't have that strength to pull myself out of it.
That's where yesterday comes in.
I was just... sobbing into my pillow about nothing in particular. I mean, everything was going great. Blue skies, cookout later, nice and breezy out, and I wasn't grounded or anything. It all happened so fast. One minute I was sitting at the island with my mom while she made coffee cake for the party, and then before I knew it I felt like my brain was caving in. So when I was in my room, crying about how messed up I was, someone tapped at my door. It was my dad. He told me through the door that he was going to Home Depot, and asked if I wanted to come. At first I said no, I just wanted to be left alone. But then he said, "C'mon. I know how you're feeling; we're very similar that way." He paused. "I'll give you a few minutes to get ready." And then he left me to think. The way he said it made me finally get up, splash water onto my face, and get up.
So we went to Home Depot to get some things for the yard, and then to the flower shop for some rose bushes. He offered to get me a Coolada. It was just a silent trip, with the few occasional conversations. Even though I get mad at him, my dad makes me feel peaceful. It's really wierd, and so surreal.
The cookout was good, and I went swimming with my brother in my grandma's lake behind her house. The water was so warm, the air cool and breezy. It was nice. Then I dried off laying down on a lawn chair, listening to the water and the trees blow around in the wind. Now I've just been in a good mood since then. Reality checks are good every once in awhile. I love this quote, and I think about it whenever I'm about to do something hard. "Life begins when you've reached the end of your comfort zone." I agree sometimes
I was looking at websites for school clothes, and I found these cute jeans that I adore. I first saw them back in April, and everytime my mom and I would go to the Gap, I'd just stare at those jeans. I love them so much, and you can look at them here: http://www.gap.com/browse/product.do?cid=58302&vid=3&pid=705599
Also more cute clothes that I want:
http://www.junkfoodclothing.com/webapp/wcs/stores/servlet/Product1_10052_10051_-1_15211_14051_11553
http://www.ae.com/web/browse/product.jsp?catId=cat1410002&productId=1340_6250
http://www.famousfootwear.com/Shopping/ProductDetails.aspx?p=74249&pg=1018557
Here's a picture that makes me happy.
This picture is exactly what I love about summer. If only I could be the one lying there forever...

Wish I Got to Know You Better

I wish I could have known my great grandma longer than I did, because of what my mom and grandma tells me, she would have liked me, vise versa.

When she was little, she was very smart and skipped two grades just to get a challange out of school, but then her mother took her out of school to work for the family. I think she could have been a great author. So much potential.

I've been thinking about her a lot lately.

Comfort Food

It's comforting to know that something so simple and lovely can bring a smile to even a tear-streaked face.

Feeding the Monster

Everyday we wake up to a society

That strives for perfection,

Driving ourselves deep into the ground,

Always sensing rejection.

The monster is our hero ine,

Taking over our souls,

Depriving us of living,

Gaining all control.

They've got the strings

Under their rein,

Parading all girls around like lifeless puppets,

Knowing they've got all to gain.

Theatrical eyeliner-rimmed eyes we've got,

Glossy waves of tumbling hair.

With the strings tied around us and their fingers, like a game,

They drive us deep into the ground, and don't really care.

It's nothing foreign,

The bitterness new,

Radiation exposed to the innocent

Living without a clue.

But lying in your bed, the tube laughing in your face,

You turn your head onto your pillow and close your heavy eyes,

Diving into shallow sleep,

Slipping away from the lies.

In the Garret

Four little chests all in a row,

Dim with dust, and worn by time,

All fashioned and filled, long ago,

By children all in their prime.

Four little keys hung side by side,

With faded ribbons, brave and gay

When fastened there, with childish pride

Long ago, on a rainy day.

Four little names, one on each lid,

Carved out by a boyish hand,

And underneath there lieth hid

Histories of a happy band

Once playing here, and pausing oft

To hear the sweet refrain,

That came and went on the roof aloft,

In the falling summer rain.

"Meg" on the first lid, smooth and fair.

I look in with loving eyes,

For folded here, with well-known care,

A goodly gathering lies,

The record of a peaceful life-

Gifts to gentle child and girl,

A bridal gown, lines to a wife,

A tiny shoe, a baby curl.

No toys in his first chest remain,

For all are carried away,

In their old age, to join again

In another small Meg's play.

Ah, happy mother! well I know

You hear, like a sweet refrain,

Lullabies ever soft and low

In the falling summer rain.

"Jo" on the next lid, scratched and worn,

And within a motley store

Of headless dolls, of schoolbooks torn,

Birds and beasts that speak no more;

Spoils brought home from the fairy ground

Only trod by youthful feet,

Dreams of a future never found,

Memories of a past still sweet;

Half-writ poems, stories wild,

April letters, warm and cold,

Diaries of a willful child,

Hints of a woman early old;

A woman in a lonely home,

Hearing, like a sad refrain-

"Be worthy, love, and love will come,"

In the falling summer rain.

My Beth! the dust is always swept

From the lid that bears your name,

As if by loving eyes that wept,

By careful hands that often came.

Death canonized for us one saint,

Ever less human than divine,

And still we lay, with tender plaint,

Relics in this housefold shrine-

The silver bell, so seldom rung,

The little cap which last she wore,

The fair, dead Catherine that hung

By angels borne above her door;

The songs she sang, without lament,

In her prison-house of pain,

Forever are they sweetly blent

With the falling summer rain.

Upon the last lid's polished field-

Legend now both fair and true-

A gallant knight bears on his shield,

"Amy", in letters gold and blue.

Within lie snoods that bound her hair,

Slippers that have danced their last,

Faded flowers laid by with carem

Fans whose airy toild are past;

Gay valentines, all adrent flames,

Trifles that have borne their part

In girlish hopes and fears and shames,

The record of a maiden heart

Now learning fairer, truer spells,

Hearing, like a blithe refrain,

The silver sound of bridal bells

In the falling summer rain.

Four little chests all in a row,

Dim with dust, and worn by time,

Four women, taught by weal and woe

To love and labor in their prime.

Four sisters, parted for an hour,

None lost, only gone before,

Made by love's immortal power,

Nearest and dearest evermore.

Oh, when these hidden stores of ours

Lie open to the Father's sight,

May they be rich in golden hours,

Deeds that show fairer for the light,

Lives whose brave music long shall ring,

Like a spirit-stirring strain,

Souls that shall gladly soar and sing

In the long sunshine after rain.

J.M.

-Little Women, p 623-625

Inspiring, Right?

Sometimes, when I'm driving in the car with my mom down windy green backroads, and she's blasting the radio, I can't help but feel like I'm flying. Taking a dip in the road, while the chorus to an amazing song is at its highest, I feel like I can do anything, be anything. I feel alive, excited, my adrenaline spiked. With the windows all down blowing my hair around my face, I feel like a rockstar. I know who I am when those insane punk rock songs are blaring, and I can't help but think, This is who I am. This is who I was meant to be. And then the music slowly fades away, the last of my adrenaline gone, my superpowers nonexistent. I'm just me again, confused and searching once more.

Ugly Being

"Cause I'm on the outside
I can see through you

And I'm looking in

Cause inside you're ugly

You're ugly like me

I can see through you

And see your true colors."

Jade Stew

Ingredients:
2 cups of wiseness to last a lifetime
1 pint of fresh stubbornness
3 generous handfulls of loyalty
1 ounce of strong opinions
1 1/2 tablespoons of love
2 teaspoons of pure uniqueness
a splash of old soul charm
one heaping spoonfull of sarcasm
and a dash of laughter

Directions:
Combine all ingredients together in a large purple porcelean bowl and stir with an old fashioned silver spoon or a wooden one. For best results, add saltwater from the ocean and a small handfull of snow from the 1st snowfall of the year. Add a minced cat whisker that fell off from your cat and a purple flower petal as well. If you cannot find a purple flower petal, a pinch of purple food coloring is fine.
When everything is mixed, put the bowl out in the sun on a windy day at sunrise and leave it there till noon.

And that's how you make Jade Stew!