April 13th

This weekend, I studied ridiculously hard for my second psychology exam of the semester.
This weekend, I visited my grandma and realized that people in rehab centers might as well be dead, they're all so lifeless and miserable.
This weekend, I understood that when you're in the country you'll do anything for entertainment. Yes, even strenuous tasks like pulling the weeds.
Yesterday, I laughed at a joke my brother made. That's a rarity.
Yesterday, I listened to old people bowling all day.
Yesterday, my mom gave me a movie for Easter because it has my best friend's name in it.
Today, I got an A on that second psychology exam of the semester and nearly broke out right there in the classroom in the electric slide.
Today, I came to the conclusion I want to write a quiet song.
Today, I'm going to bed before midnight.

lillies

I've been neglecting blogspot already. *fails*

You are my clock. In fact, you have been for quite a while now. You skip around sometimes, go back an hour and then forward when I'm least expecting it, but what can I say? It'll grow on me like weeds in between the glowing lillies. I always find a way to count on you somehow, even if I don't try. Sometimes I can even hear you from two rooms over, and when I go to sleep, you're still there, ticking along, a constant reminder that no matter how much effort you put into slowing down time, it will never happen. There will always be tomorrow, always. Even the times I've fallen asleep praying that I wouldn't wake up, your incessant ticking awoke my spirits once more, however begrudgingly. You are the reminder I beg for, telling me to keep going, although that's not what you'd do. Your hypocrisy gets to me sometimes and I'll roll my eyes at you, but then realize you were right in the first place. Even if you didn't know what you were talking about. Funny how that works.
You are my inner nature. You are what it's worth, my worth. You are the reason I keep going, keep on writing, keep on living and looking forward to each new day. I suppose you really do need to be there. You are my world, my static. My velcro. If we were a pair of shoes, we'd be tied together at the laces. Maybe we couldn't walk, sure that's an inconvenience. But that's us. Maybe this will die out, but before it does I'd like to tell you how much it means to me. I could fly across seas and it wouldn't be enough for you. I'm not a person to you, I'm an idea, and that's what kills me. Your understanding does not compensate for your lack of knowing.
You are my sense of chaos. You are the earthquake inside of me, the trainwreck, its cause and effect pattern too extraneous for my own good. My wishes will never fulfill reality, will never extricate what I long to say. In my dreams I take your hand, trace into your palm what I'm trying to say. We get each other like nothing else, not even the purest bluejays could read our minds like we do. Speaking is overrated, but it's the only form of communication I'm left with, there's no other way I can face what's out there.
You are the brightest star in the sky, always. I know I'm only one out of a million that's crazy for your attention, but with each coming moon I know it will wane, and I'm not too much looking forward to the waxing.
I'm really really sorry. This deserves more than a message in a bottle floating off to nowhere, but maybe something will intercept and you'll catch it. A butterfly struggles in the gaps between your fingers, screaming for freedom. You are whole, and there is no room for my appreciation. The butterfly understands, just as I do.
But whatever we end up, you'll always be my clock. The second hand that never tires, you'll always subconsciously push me to create new beginnings. There is no way to shut you up. The thumping of your standard ticking, the beating of my heart in tune, it's all too much to be a mere coincidence. I think I'm going crazy.

breathe

The creaking hinges of the front door are stained with rust despite their recent appliance. It's almost an omen, as if no matter how new something is, it's still tainted. And it really is, this being the new door with all those translucent prisms and glass contortions. This is the same door you clumsily slammed your hand inside in attempt to quicken your pace for her. You are her greatest sense of pride and her worst disappointment. Although she spends endless nights slaving away at what she thinks is the right answer, you still expect her to return to you, to give you what you crave for. But your trust is fading, and soon you will take to relying on the closest to her you can get. But when that proves a holographic image, a wispy, pathetic excuse, a shoulder too bony to lean on, what remains?
Your silence will slowly deteriorate her body, leaving behind nothing of the euphoria you swept clean from mere irritability, and yet you understand that this is happening. Frustration finds its way to you like it always does, climbing up your skin and nestling into your scalp. You lash out, pulling your hair out in great clumps, before realizing it won't do a thing. You stand up, finished with responsibility, finished with trying to make people happy, finished with anything that means using willpower. Done. You make your way toward the new door, what was supposed to be a fresh start but instead turned out a mental disaster.
"I'm not part of you anymore," you tell her as you slam the door behind you, being careful not to slam your hand in the latch again to escape not only embarrassment, but a sense of dependence. Maybe you should have lowered your voice. Maybe you should have known what you WERE a part of before making such a bold statement.
But you know one thing. If you can make it through this lonely year, you can accomplish anything. Just breathe.

so..

I've given up on school entirely.

inspiration

I need to write more. Like, it's decided. I used to write short storise and I even had a huge 200-something page novel that I just deleted one day because I got sick of the fact that it was progressing into nothing and had no real plot. Blah. People say I need to write when something comes to me, but nothing ever comes to me. Or else things come to me and I don't realize they came and should be put into writing. Or if that's even how it really works. I don't know anymore. I'm confused. My writer's block turned into an attempt at fan fiction, which failed. And that's where I am now. Nowhere. I need to start again, I hope it's possible.

home alone

I kind of feel bad. I should be seeing my best friend in State College but I'm not. And it's pretty much all my fault. gahh. So I'm home alone again... wait, how many times has this happened? Total count of 300, right? I'm so sick of it. Most people are like "z0mgg gurl I'm so jealous, you'z home all da time by yaself, you must be partyin it up ova thurr!" like..no. When it's only my mom and me living here and she's not here 3/4 of the time, it gets really boring. There's only so much I can do. It's not like I even have people to invite over anyway. All the friends I had here decided they were too important for me, too old, too rich, too far away even though it's only 20 minutes distance, or we just slowly grew apart and there was nothing we could do about it.

But whatever. I told myself I wouldn't complain in these blogs too much, so I'll stop. I was just looking at my top 25 on iTunes for the first time and all 25 of them are only 5 bands - The Mudbloods, Ministry of Magic, The Moaning Myrtles, Oliver Boyd and the Remembralls, and the Butterbeer Experience. Well there you go, my favorite wizard rock bands right there! Except Gred and Forge, because I still haven't uploaded his CD onto my computer yet. I'm so lazy. Like, it takes me forever to get around to doing something once I say I'm going to do it. I have no idea where my music stuff with I Speak Tree is going either. I kind of really need help recording so I'm going to have to look into that. Yesterday someone asked me to sing in one of their songs so I'm really excited about that. But like really, all I record with is my digital camera. And then I convert the file into an audio mp3. Lame.

I really hope I can go to Wrockstock this year but I feel like some people don't want me there. I don't know. I'm going to need all the money I can for Azkatraz this summer anyway. I'm so stoked for summer, by the way. All of my July plans are done and it's just June and August I have to think about. My birthday is August 7th and I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing. I'll probably have a party with my mom or something. I mean, nothing too terrible.

I should probably go take a walk or film a video or go on a photography spree. Being home alone is more boring than you'd think. If I didn't have any music to play, it'd be dead silent.

Rain = Sleep

Is there any kind of mathematical equation for this? Seriously. Rain makes sleep. Ever since I was told last night that it was gonna be wet outside today, I've been tired. I don't know why though. It's not like the rain is heavy or anything. But once you get home and the specific outfit you set for that day is soaking wet, and your hair is ten times as frizzy as you had intended it to be in the morning, you're just... tired. It's hard to explain. I mean, some people love rain. I can't speak for everyone. But what's there to do when it's raining, really? You could always dance in the rain, but there's your grandma telling you you'll get pneumonia. Well, if your grandma's not in a home.

Okay, this is going all over the place. See, this is why I don't blog. I can't even write a paragraph without going off tangent.

I've actually never blogged before. I mean, I've had a livejournal when I was like...10. But I hardly ever used it. And I just complained about everything. I'll try not to do that as much here, if I even consistently update this. Which hopefully I can push and remind myself to do. I wish I could've started this two days ago, then I could officially be part of BEDA (Blog Every Day in April). Instead of vlogging. Because I can't vlog. Cameras make me feel awkward. Maybe I could get a late start and do a BEDETF2DOA. Blog every day except for the first two days of April! ..Why am I so lame?

I never really blogged on myspace either. I have in the past, but I deleted most of them from embarrassment. And they weren't really "blogs" like you'd write in a diary or something. I'd only write them when I was angry, so they'd amount to nothing but meaningless rants that no one ever read. Not that an abundance of people will be flocking to read this. But you know what I mean.

And then there was xanga, bahahha. Everyone had an xanga. Everyone. And then it was myspace, then facebook. But not many people post notes or anything on facebook, and if they do, it wasn't intended for facebook, they just copied and pasted it there so the lazy people who didn't want to click links to their blogs could read whatever it was.

So here I am again, blogging. I hope I can keep this up. Watch me like, completely forget and then this will be the only post I ever do on this site. I've never even heard of this site before. Wait, maybe I have. I was just bored and the rain is making me so tired that I have to drink horrid amounts of liquids so I keep having to pee so I don't sleep. And since I don't drink coffee...

My mind is so unorganized. I'm not sure it amounts to good blogging. But I try. Yay for new beginnings!