Don’t Let It Get You Down

Today went by rather fast.  It involved a lot of crying and laughing and conversation between old friends and the forging of new ones.  Yearbook day is always like this for me.  I spent it with Rachel, my bffl, of course, because she is now on yearbook staff.  And Yearbook Adviser didn’t get too angry.  Yearbook day is something I look forward to all year, no matter how much I complain about the stress yearbook sometimes causes.  I feel really calm, like all is right in my world at the moment.

Even though I know next week brings hard decisions and a hell of a boring time.  It means hanging out in the yearbook room all the time, which I love doing anyway.  I need to pack that fridge with some Dr. Pepper, while I’m thinking about it, because I know I’ll forget.  Funny thing is, I can write “streams of consciousness” on my blog without effort, but my teacher tells us to write like that and I look at my paper like it’s an alien from Mars.  It’s dumb. 

I’m trying not to let it get me down.  There are so many people telling me so many things and trying to pull me in so many different directions.  It’s almost like white noise.  I just want to sit down and scream, “Now, hold up a freaking second!…What did you say?” Because I’m confused.  I can’t handle so many different opinions.  I just can’t weight things.  It’s one of my flaws.  Speaking of flaws, I forgot to tell someone something…I was watching a show the other day and someone said something that was so utterly true that it floored me:

“You like someone for their good qualities.
But you love them for their faults.”

But, in my case, the faults of the one I love are too much for this fifteen year old heart to take.  So, like I said, big decisions next week.  Quick post today, because I won’t have time for a while.  Enjoy life, and don’t let the world get you down.

Happiness Is A Warm Gun

(OR HIGH SCHOOL AND ITS TYRANNY)

I’ve felt disconnected for the past few weeks, like nothing was important–including this blog.  Especially this blog.  I click on that login button and I go “UGH, do I have to?”  Not anymore–I feel rejuvenated!  It was this odd chain of events that led to me spending the majority of my weekend with Ms. Rachel Ellane (she is no longer Ramxpage) and working my high school’s junior-senior prom.  And I’ve never had more fun.

As if to remind me how miserable I was during me and Rachel’s spat, our HSAP prompt asked me to recall my fondest memory (or one of them anyway).  The first thing that came to mind was the first time I ever ice skated–and that was with Rachel.  And, in an odd, roundabout way, it made me realize guys are not more important thand a good time.  Does that make sense?  This whole yaer–my whole high school career, in fact–I have let guys make me miserable and make me cry.  And the only crying I’m going to be doing is when my favorite teacher leaves.  (Don’t worry.  I’ll still talk to her–that’s not what makes me cry; I’ll be crying because she’ll finally escape the tyranny of our high school.)

I’ve always said that the line about hapiness coming from within was pretty much bullshit.  Shows how much I thought I knew.  Because, at the moment, I am completely content inside.  Rachel and I are back to normal–annoying each other for fun–and I don’t really like any guy at the moment, except for the boy in my class, but I’m taking that extremely slow due to some advice. (*cough*diane*cough*)  So that means the only thing I’m stressing over is what I’m wearing to HSAP testing tomorrow.  (Sounds like a disease, doesn’t it?  AIDS, HSAP, HIV, can you name the STD?)

I’m watching Ratatouille, which is an amazing movie.  You’ve got to love the characters.  Speaking of charactesr, I should work on a post for my writing blog.  It’s going to be interesting juggling all the internet crap I’ve got piled up.  I recently revived my livejournal for Rachel, so I’m juggling that, two wordpress blogs, twitter, etc.  Joy.  Plus, I forget, like, everything.  I forgot to message people on Twitter because I was caught up in Backseat Goodbye’s “Hello Yellow” (which is all RACHEL’S FAULT.)

So, I’ll leave you with this song that sums up a lot.

Sometimes I fear that I might dissapear
In the blur of fast forward I faulter again
Forgetting to breathe, I need to sleep
I’m getting nowhere

All that I’ve missed I see in the reflection
Passed me while I wasn’t paying attention
Tired of rushing, racing and running
I’m falling apart

Tell me
Oh won’t you take my hand and lead me
Slow me down
Don’t let love pass me by
Just show me how
‘Cause I’m ready to fall
Slow me down
Don’t let me live a lie
Before my life flys by
I need you to slow me down
-”Slow Me Down” by Emmy Rossum

Curbxstomp & Ramxpage

Many of you read about me and Ramxpage’s crippling fight about a month ago; I was broken up about it and very recently we have gone back to our old ways:  extremely long pone calls, hanging out at her house and eating like cows.  You can see the difference in my attitude, because I’m listening to music again, my writing has improved, and I have initiative I feel great.  Or felt anyway.

I had a great school day–Daniel was in a good mood, HSAP was over, and I was working on a new story.  then I came home. That’s when everything becomes a suck fest.  I’m going to glaze over the events, because no one would reallly understand anyway.  So, about eightish–after I pampered myself (the norm:  shaving, lotion, eyebrows plucked and all the while I was listening to Vanessa Carlton)–I couldn’t take it anymore.  I threw on public appropriate clothes (I was wearing booty shorts and a cami, and my mom nearly had a heart attack and made me put on “decent” clothes) and took my phone outside.

While I was at the dinner table, before this, I was fighting tears.  So, when I was more relaxed, I called Rachel, because no one understands more than she does.  So I sat in my driveway and called her.  I was doing okay for the first half of the conversation, but when she was asking me what was wrong, I started to tell her and then all hell broke loose.  In other words, I burst into tears.

I sat in my driveway, crying for more than twenty minutes, telling her everything.  Unlike some people that I confide in, she was completely indignant on my behalf and made me feel a lot better, and I love her for it.  She was completely outraged and she made me laugh to make me feel better.  It’s great to have a best friend who doesn’t question all that you do.  And, she didn’t want me to wear my boots, and I did anyway, because some guy asked me to and I should have listened to her.  Because now, my ankles are bleeding and I’m in serious pain.  Rachel ALWAYS knows best.

You know someone’s your best friend when they defend you even if you are wrong, but when it’s all over they say, “Uh, do you even know what you’re talking about?”

“Hello, how are you?  I think that we should be best friends.”
-”Hello, Yellow” by Backseat Goodbye 

Mixed Tape

I am currently working on Daniel’s mix, trying to decide which order I should put everything in.  The first song is “Mixed Tape” by Jack’s Mannequin, and I hope he likes it, because if he doesn’t I’ll feel bad.  *grins* I doubt he’ll hate it thought–or at least he won’t tell me.

I literally ripped apart my library today trying to find good stuff for his mix.  I’m really indecisive about it, because some of the stuff I want to put on there probably isn’t something he’s going to like.  I know some of the music that he listens to and it’s a little bit different from his.  He hate’s a lot of the stuff I listen to, but what one of my guy friends doesn’t?  I put “Mr. Brightside” by The Killers on there for him, and that’s only one that I know for sure he’ll actually like–we had a long discussion about it.

I need to be writing my novel right now, but at the moment, I’m content to be writing about the little things that make my life mine.  Making mixes for example.  I love making mixes.  The only part I don’t like is ripping the song to the computer and burning it to a cd.  Takes FOREVER.  But, when all is said and done, I have fun doing so, because if there’s one thing I love more than reading and writing, it’s introducing people to the music I listen to.  It’s just a good feeling.  Music makes everything better. 

Speaking of making everything better, I need to take Excederin, because my head’s killing me.  I need to start wearing my glasses, because I read for several hours straight on the weekends.  Par example, I spent two hours reading Neil Gaimain’s The Sand Man: Volume 4, The Seasons of Mist.  Although, the headache may be from the paint fumes that I was around while painting shutters today.  I’ll get over it.

Character development coming along for the modern rewrite of Tarot Cards right now.  Ramxpage and I are collaborating on cover ideas.  It’s not going to be very easy.  Once we have sketches and the final designs, I will of course post them.  My friend suggested self publishing, so maybe that way I can choose what the cover looks like.  My character has taken on aspects of my behavior of late, and she’s become really annoying.  To William at least.  I love it.  I’m going to go edit and rewrite now.  Bye! 

I Said I Love You, Isn’t That Enough?

Just because someone tells you that they love you DOES NOT mean that they do.  Unless they are one of those “Love thy neighbor” types, then maybe, but generally, when an athiest tells you that they love you, they are not doing it because religion dictates it.

I know a few people that expect me to believe everything that comes out of their mouth, including the once sacred phrase of, “I love you.”  I tried explaining to people that I am not naive when it comes to guys, because honestly, I know a guy who will do absolutely anything to get into a girl’s pants.  It’s actually kind of painful to watch–and experience–, but whatever.  When I see the things going on around me, I become wary of the world.

(Like, this weekend, I was watching Law & Order: SVU for a few hours and it kind of made me scared to go outside.)

I don’t believe everything people tell me.  Unless you are a really good friend, teacher, or Rachel Ramxpage, who doesn’t count as a friend anymore–she’s moved to the long lost sister role.  I think people expect “I love you” to make a difference in how you feel about them.  It may make you reciprocate the phrase, if only in words, not feeling.

Which is why I don’t want to get married.  With all the problems you have nowadays.  I would be the girl who believes a guy after years of not trusting guys.  Then, I would get married.  A couple years later, I’d probably pop out a couple of kids and then BAM!  He’s filing for divorce with his pretty new arm piece smiling dumbly at the court hearings. 

Maybe that’s what I fear. Not so much having children, but the part where I get ditched because I’m getting old.  It actually haunts me, that thought.  I had a conversation with one of my friends and he was appalled at me when I asked, “What if no one wants to marry me?”  He then proceeded to tell me that I was too wonderful to go on unmarried for the rest of my life.

Being in love sucks, by the way, I just wanted all of you to know that.  But, the thing is, it only seems to suck for me.  I usually have complicated relationships, and then I just hate the entire male race.

Like I do right now.

 

Seraphim: An Allegorical Tale of Good and Evil

For the moment, the story is called Seraphim. There is a book by Faith Hunter called Seraph and I hate being anywhere close to anyone’s writing. It makes me feel like I’m stealing. That’s why I quit most of my writing–it sounds too much like the books I read. Every writer will be influenced by the books they read, but I don’t want to be too close. I can be close without being unoriginal. And since I have never read Faith’s book, I can’t say that I’m copying. I may read the book when I a done writing my story, so she doesn’t influence me, or make me feel bad about my writing.

Okay, anyway. I’ve been thinking about allegories since I watched Monsters, Inc. in film criticism earlier this year. I thought it was really cool, and contemplated writing an allegory. Things like that take a lot of intelligent thought and time. I had neither at that moment. (Ha, Kaelie made a funny…) So, I completely abandoned an allegory until I could come up with something decent.

I recently read The Scarlet Letter (yes, I know, I cringe when I think about it, too.) by Nathaniel Hawthorne and he was a genius–a boring one, but a genius. He used color symbolism, just flat out symbolism, and parables. I take a lot of example from him. Most of the American population hates him–I hate his books, but I respect his writing. So, then color symbolism appeared in my writing. It’s really subtle stuff. Like hair color, eye color, shadow play. If someone has a different hair or eye color from everyone else they are either bad or just really different. It really depends on the context and who the person is. Like, with Haven and Lucius. One has dark hair, one has blond hair. I already know why, but you don’t. The people that have read stories will be able to tell you, though. So talk to hamz or fluffy about it. They’re on my blogroll. You can even ask me, but sometimes I might not tell you, because I don’t risk talking about other stories while I’m in the middle of a project–like I am right now–because it distracts me.

Anyway, plot synopsis. Angels and demons basically, the usual good vs. evil story. OR IS IT? The main character is an “angel” by the name of Meliakos. She doesn’t have a last name as of yet. Maybe they don’t have last names in the celestial worlds–I don’t know yet. Her hair is black, and her eyes are green. Angels don’t have a specific eye color nor do they have black hair–it’s usually blond or really light brown. The only blond color however is like the true blond color. Not white, not platinum, not dirty, but the true blond. Like Rachel Ramxpage’s hair, if you want to be absolutely sure. (For the record, the blond hair that I use in my writing is normally her hair color.) I’ve lost my point. Meliakos–call me Mel–meets a blond demon named Gabriel, and he is the other “half” of the balance that angels have an annoying tendency to enforce and need. He is the second part of the allegory.

Mel is an angel, but she isn’t necessarily good. Gabriel is a demon, but he isn’t necessarily bad. The allegory? This allegory is ethics. If you can tell what’s what just by this little excerpt, props to you, if not, I’m happy because the allegory will be a surprise when you read the story. Right now, I just have it set as a short story, not a full fledged novel. I don’t know if I can get it to be that long.

Well, happy President’s Day if I’m not back by then.

Beautiful Darkness

Illness is making me want to hurt someone.  I am so tired of being sick!  I really have done nothing in the past three days, missed school on Friday–all I did was sit around and watch Doctor Who, and now I’m back at school, trying to keep my lids from slamming shut on my eyes. 

I was reading a Neil Gaiman comic book called Death: The Time of Your Life.  Death is this gorgeous woman, with this ankh, and she has this curly tattoo under her eye.  Reading those comic books–any of his–is an experience.  He makes everything normally feared and rejected into something beautifully dark.  I love his style, and its pretty much going along with how I feel these days.

My life seems a little darker than normal.  It’s all a haze, and I can barely tell what’s going on.  I have to pay attention to everything, and I don’t have time; I barely have time to do a lot of the things that I want to do.  Reading has become a chore.  I’m tired of reading.  I don’t want to read anymore.  I just want to stop reading because I have no time, even though most days I make time by putting something off.  It’s difficult.

I hate high school.  I hate getting up early, I hate the fact that one sick day puts you back forever.  I hate the people that get on your nerves. 

Hate is a strong word, my yearbook advisor says.  Maybe I should say dislike.  But I have freedom of speech, so that’s great.  Me saying I hate all of this reminds me of something that Yoda said:

“Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering, suffering leads to the dark side.”

Good quote.  Makes sense.  Anger has become common in my mindset, but it has disappeared from my writing.  My characters–all of them–are going through “soul-searching” which I am in serious need of. Because getting myself into relationships that are unhealthy seems to be my particular specialty.  And it sucks, because it involves a lot of pain, crying, and ice cream eaten at Rachel’s house while watching a gory movie with a sucky ending. 

My characters in specific, though, are in a weird mood.  They are having a lot of those moments that make you go, “Aw,” and I hate those moments because while I’m writing them, it’s really uncomfortable when other people read them.  It’s annoying.  I have issues with that.  I’m not a romantic person I guess, but my characters usually are.  Relationships usually add a lot of what I call fluff to the plot, so my relationships are quite abundant.  Whether is be friends or what.  People are like, “well, aren’t there always relationships?”  Some books I read, you follow one person through the entire thing and at the end they mention a relative or something and I don’t like that.  You’re writing about a person. You have to have some sort of relationship.

That has to be one of my more disorganized posts, but I’m so sick I just want to post and go to bed, but unfortunately, I have to go through the rest of the school day.  Happy Monday.   

The Outsider

A Perfect Circle is the best band ever.  Check them out live on Youtube.  Just type in The Outsider with the name of the band previously mentioned and then you’ll enjoy amazing lyrics, music, and vocals.  I know I do.

I feel like I’m on the outside looking in sometimes.  I see the bits and pieces of the lives of people around me, and I’m just kind of lost, knowing that I am unincluded.  I realized that they have a whole life that doesn’t include me and it doesn’t hurt, but it still stings and it’s like a dawning of the sun.  You never really know someone, and that’s worrying sometimes.

I feel like an outsider everywhere I go.  I have moved a lot in my life, because of my dad’s job.  I just stayed in one spot long enough to make friends and lose them.  Now, I have been in the same spot for several years.  I have really good friends, but I’m not good friends with anyone group.  I am a drifter, and I have parts of all the groups combined in me, so I can be friends with different groups.  Preps, rockers, potheads, the brainiacs. 

That’s all I had to say.  LOVE!! 

Ice

There comes that point in your life when you realize that you know absolutely nothing.  You question all of your beliefs, second guess your most trusted confidants.  It’s like ice sliding down your spine, raising goosebumps all over your body, because you know that your life is going to change.

I just had my reality run over by a good friend of mine, whom none of you know, not even ramxpage.  Her life seems to be falling apart before her eyes, and I can only sit there and do nothing.  She seems to be going through the motions, suicidal thoughts, tears at the slightest mention of things that once brought a grin to her face and warmth to her heart.  I don’t like watching her hurt, because it is all so pointless.

I don’t approve of suicide.  It’s selfish, and a one way ticket to hell.  I do believe, and while everyone around me that isn’t a Christian is telling me that God doesn’t exist, I’m going to believe whatever I want because I can.  I believe that there is heaven, hell, God, and Lucifer.  I believe in it all, because without religion, mankind as a whole would fall apart.

My fingers are cold just sitting here talking about it.  It’s not right, to have to sit and watch your friends suffer.  You should be able to do something about it.  My friends watch me suffer.  I let them know when things are going badly, because I know that no matter what they will help me, even if I don’t ask for it.  I’ve been through a lot.  Not as much as most people.  I moved around a lot, recently became really good friends with so many beautifully made people, and I looked at my life today and went, “Damn.  I am an unappreciative bitch.”

I let things blur my eyesight, and my heart.  I am scared to lose my best friend.  Everyone around me can see it when we talk to each other, because we argue.  I don’t want to say the wrong thing, because what if that’s it?  What if, after one whole year of absolute bliss, she takes my words wrong and leaves me in the dust, for another girl that I know perfectly well to be her backup plan of sorts?

I have watched people around me kill themselves slowly with pills and drugs of all sorts.  I have seen the scars that knives leave on their bodies, and I have see the heartache that one attempted suicide causes everyone else. I  have also seen that attempted suicide taken so lightly that someone laughed at it.  It made me think about how common it actually was for a 17 year old boy to overdose on pills.

My friend keeps telling me that everyone has a right to complain.  I use that right quite a bit, because sometimes it just makes me feel better.  Some people, however, just bottle it all up inside and then when they let it loose, people get hurt, and I sometimes pick up the pieces of the now broken mirror once called friendship and try to piece it back together.

I don’t like thinking about my life on a deep basis, because it makes me sad.  Makes me sad to know that I am just one star in the middle of a vast galaxy.

Silence

“Why do we fall, Bruce?” 

I’ve reached some quiet time today when I was editing my story, so while I contemplate how to use it, I am going to post about what’s been going on.

Yesterday, I watched all of my comic book/sexy main men movies to occupy my whirling mind.  Van Helsing, Hellboy, Batman Begins.  I lost use of the tv because I had been watching movies from around 1:30 to 8:oo.  So, they told me I should do something else besides watch tv.  I was watching these movies to help my writing, though, so it was all for two good causes: to make me stop thinking, and to help my villains.  I need to work on my antagonists because I am so uninterested in them. 

My writing has officially begun to take on aspects of my current anger and anxiety and distress.  William has become really angry, and I don’t want to write him because I don’t know what he’ll do, and if he does the wrong thing…I’ll have to change the whole plot.  Rebecca has become somewhat weaker, becoming my softer side that I try not to admit having.  I’m in the quiet time of my edit, and she is elaborating on the freedom that I have just given her, and she has no idea what to do with it.  I have no idea what to do with it. 

I’ve been listening to Moulin Rouge soundtrack for the past two days while trying to recuperate.  I can’t sleep, and when I am, I have freaky dreams that usually end up with me disoriented and ready to cry at about three in the morning.  Not to mention I keep forgetting to turn my alarm clock off, so it’s like going off at 6:10 in the morning and I can’t go back to sleep.

I have resigned myself to the world of Rachel Morgan, Kim Harrison’s novels.  It’s my alternate reality, and I spend a lot of time there, because Rachel can always kick some ass to make me feel better.  But, unfortunately, I’m reading the saddest book, so by the time I get to the end, I’ll probably be crying, but hopefully by the time I get to the end, it won’t be as bad as the first and second time reading it.  It was awful.  I did cry.  I am getting a mourning arm band for the character that dies in this novel, and I’m excited.  I’ll put up a picture of it.  I’m also hopefully getting the toe tag that Rachel gets because they thought she died in a boat explosion in the third novel.  Good stuff.

Rachel Ramxpage and I were having a “people free weekend” but that’s becoming harder and harder.  I want to call her, but I know that’s she been really irritated with everyone lately, but I don’t know if I’m included in that everyone category.  She was very supportive though, and I know that she wasn’t irritated with me all day.

I should be editing my Students 2.0 submission, but Lindsay hasn’t contacted me yet–we’re going to do it through AIM.  I don’t know what the time difference is, either.  So, I’m waiting for that.   I need to do some writing–it may keep me from thinking.

“So we can learn to pick ourselves back up.”
-Thomas Wayne, Batman Begins