A Dry and Dusty Spring Break

So we ventured off to Vegas. Despite a 4-hour direct flight and no hassle of any sort, it was still tiring. The flight was also very bumpy during the end and we had to wait an extra 20 minutes because it was too windy to land. I about puked :P

So... quick recap: we stayed at one of the nicer hotels, saw a lot of expensive crap for sale at stores, got bombarded with hooker calling cards from middle-aged Mexicans that roamed the streets looking for ways to incorporate their prostitution service into the lives of others... that was a long sentence. D: But it wasn't too hot (it was actually pretty cold) and we ended up leaving after two days. But I saw the Blue Man Group and it was awesome :) It reminded me of 10,000 Days and Lateralus, for some reason. Just the mood, I guess.

Speaking of moods... I think I'm beginning to feel depressed. Over the past couple of weeks I've just been feeling really hopeless and lost, like I'm missing something that's painfully obvious to everyone else. I don't feel anything anymore, really. I've just been on the verge of tears for a very long time, and I cried twice today for really no reason at all. It felt fulfilling to cry, like I was actually experiencing enough emotion to feel like I was living again. This probably isn't something I should broadcast to the public, but I'd never write about it otherwise and writing leads to self-discovery (well, for me anyway). I don't think it's a huge deal, but I do realize I've got some big and incapacitating issues with society and other people as a whole that just generally upset me. We'll see where this goes.

Apart from that...

Saw the Grand Canyon. It really was grand :) Beautiful. I want to hike down to the river someday and spend a few days there and connect. I don't really like the blah-scenery of the west, but if you have time to really look at it, the rocks and shrubs are kind of pretty. I'd love to be a Native American roaming the west 150 years ago - what freedom...

I feel like I'm writing like an old woman. Oh, and I deleted my Facebook. It really didn't help my mood but I'm sure it will benefit me in the long run. It was stupid to rely that much on a website. I invested so much time reading everyone's updates and doing surveys and everything when I could have just talked to people in person. I've kind of forgotten how to make friends, you know. I don't really know how to talk to people in general. I do just fine in front of crowds, but it's those small groups of people and one-on-one that make me really feel isolated and alone, like I'm above them in certain areas and below them in others. Social hierarchy is something I notice all the time, and I've said that before. Where I see myself in the hierarchy is definitely a factor in why I feel so bad all the time... and I always tend to assume I'm at the very bottom. (I didn't say that for your pity, I said it because it's how I think.)

Well, it's 1am, 10pm AZ time. Might as well go to bed and deal with everyone about my hair tomorrow. I'll post pictures of Spring Break sooner or later, if I actually have the motivation to do anything at all these next few weeks.

HAIR - the musical (April Fool's!)

Photo_197

I got my hair cut! I'm happy. I was so sick of hair hair hair hair hair, my 24/7 in-your-face frizzy curtain. I should have gotten it cut years ago... it looks like a longish boy's cut more than a pixie, but I think it suits me. "It adds intrigue to my persona" is what I told my mother earlier and she found that amusing.

I did cry when the lady first cut it, though. I was laughing hysterically after the first snip but before I knew it, the tears came and I had to put my head in my hands for a while. I haven't sobbed in a long time, but my mom was there crying with me and it felt ok to cry. If I start letting my hair grow back right this second, it won't be fully grown back out even when I graduate (according to mom, which I don't think is entirely true, but whatever).

Still doing fine with Jacob, he's one of the most interesting people I know. I really don't think there's anyone I'd rather spend my time with other than him. He made me watch Paranormal Activity tonight and I had my head buried in his shoulder during the ENTIRE thing except for the one scene where Katie's watching the exorcism video about Diana or Diane or whatever her name was. So I'm trying to stay up all night (or at least get tired enough to pass out) and waste my time so I don't have to have nightmares or freak out about noises in the dark. I have my radio turned down very low and that helps, I guess.

I'm debating on browsing Stumble Upon for a while... I was supposed to start Script Frenzy today but I don't think I know enough about screenplays to give it a limited amount of justice. I'm also insanely busy - it's been project after project after project in my English class and I'm not going to add writing a 100(?)-page script to my workload.

Oh great, Paradise City is on. One of the most repetitive songs I know. o_0 Don't get me wrong, Guns 'N Roses is ok, but they really weren't that awesome when it comes to song complexity.

Anyway. My stomach kind of hurts and I think I'm just hungry. I've been really hungry lately and I don't know why. I can't get enough food, then I feel bad for eating things that aren't necessarily great for me, but then I end up hungry a few hours later. This happened a few months ago, so maybe I'm actually growing more. I can catch up to Jacob... he's taller than my grandfather, who's 5'11"...

Anyway, I'm going to find something else to do...

Small Update

Nothing new has changed - just me, a Tool-obsessed lovergirl. Heehee.

(I'm sitting in a Mexican restaurant typing this on my iPhone, so please pardon any mistakes...)

A Story: today I was about to do one of those 10 Things I'd Like to Say to People notes on Facebook, and I started really thinking about what my answers would be and what I would say to which people. Then I started thinking about how much I let other people affect my life - why should I have to say so many things to people? Do I have problems getting my messages across?

There is one girl, whose name I won't mention, who constantly advises me to straighten my hair and says that I would look so much better with it styled like hers. I know she means no harm by it, but sometimes I feel like the only way she could ever appreciate me as a person would only be if I looked like her. I look like ME, with my hair and my face and my clothes, and I don't care if she has a problem with me or not, but I wish she would just leave me alone and let me "suffer" without her advice for the rest of the time I have to know her. I don't think she knows how much her "oh, you need to do this and this and this to fix your hair, and buy x-brand of hair solution, blah blah blah" talks have gotten to me. I hate to be rude, but...

... I guess I have a lot of pent-up rage against people that try to improve me. That's what society is, isn't it? Pressure to be our best, to look our best, etc. (Well, maybe not society itself, but the social aspect of how we lead our lives within the society.) If I lived in a box without company and still tried to lead the same kind of life that I do now, I think I'd be quite proud of a lot of things about myself that I've been pushing farther and farther away as of late. But too much pride is considered being arrogant and boastful and too little pride makes for an insecure, emotionally-unstable person. Shouldn't the middle of the two be easier to find??

The only reason why I mentioned the girl was because I've been thinking cutting my hair. I've told others that I was cutting it for myself and not because of the Straightening Debate, but I guess I can admit to myself that yes, it is because of her. I was thinking pixie short. I think I have a face that wouldn't look too butch with a short cut, but who knows. My hair is the source of a lot of my problems, believe it or not, and maybe getting rid of it would be the best thing.

Image

I like this haircut. My hair would probably poof out a lot more with it, but what the heck. Maybe I could pull it off if my face cleared up a little bit. Proactive lies!

Ahh, and below we have Katie Holmes. I think my hair would be similar to hers if I cut it.

0image

Oh well. I hope everyone is having a great... day/week/month. Maybe saying "year" is pushing it. Who knows.

Hmm.

Photo

I am a glutton and I am proud. :) Well, not really. but the fact I'm
typing with one hand because the other is coated in Dorito cheesy-
dust, well... you tell me.

I'd like to discuss the topic of a first kiss in today's post (said
Nancy Grace, mwuhahah). But will I regret writing about it? Hmm.
That's a risk I'm willing to take, I think.

Are you supposed to feel anything? Maybe I've seen too many movies. It
didn't feel like anything. Just gray. And I felt depressed afterwards,
for some reason. I think I was mostly disappointed that the world
didn't stop or something. That I didn't see stars. It was over too
quick. Like a grandma's kiss. (Teehee.) But the second and fourth ones
were ok. Then I left o_0

... My eyes were open. :P

So I slept until noon today and woke up and reread some texts between
me and him and I was thinking... what have I done... what have I
done...

(... This post is full of ellipsises, it seems...)

... But then I went to the mall later with my parents in order to get
my mind off of everything, and I saw someone that looked like him in
the crowd, and I felt my stomach kind of jump and I felt insanely
happy for a split second until I realized it wasn't him. But that made
me realize it was ok, and that it's just new and awkward and I
shouldn't base all of my feelings on that one imperfect moment.

(I wonder how I'll react when I lose my virginity D: I'll have a
mental breakdown, I'm sure.)

... And he looks much, much better when he does an open-mouth smile. I
don't know why he doesn't. He's so funny and laughs all the time.
You'd think he would. o_0

The Internet Murders Us

The terrible pictures below are from the Civic Theater in Akron, Ohio. Zoso is certainly the most authentic Led Zeppelin tribute band out there. The band doesn't even use wireless transmitters to connect to the speaker system - ancient technology ftw! See http://www.zosoontour.com (Zoso's website) for more info and touring information, but they were fantastic and I recommend that any Led Zeppelin fan goes to see them at least once in their lifetime. It's indescribable. :)

In other news, I officially hate the Internet. Why, you may ask? Because it takes up so much of my friggin' time.

I swore to myself I'd never be one of those people that spend all their time on their phone, texting and emailing to no avail... yet look at me now. I enjoy posting this blog in an effort to get others to realize what I've began to realize myself, but how can I when I am such a hypocrite?

So I took some steps. I deleted all my unnecessary iPhone apps and my Myspace (they weren't much use to me anyway). I went to http://keepmeout.com (KeepMeOut) for a Facebook blocker. It should supposedly warn me if I go to Facebook more than once every hour. Of course, you can easily override it, but it helps you become conscious about this kind of thing.

(Speaking of which, http://www.raptitude.com/2010/02/the-awkward-side-effects-of-evolution/ <--- click and be amazed!)

Now that I'm out of my usual entertainment, I can start to rebuild my brain back. I don't need to be mentally stimulated every moment of my life. I should educate myself on things that matter and things that I'm interested in.

Some things I'm thinking about pursuing:

* Mythology, particularly ones OTHER than the Greek and Roman tales
* Artwork (I admire Alex Grey, but I also think surrealism is particularly interesting)
* Pencil drawing(?) or painting or just any excuse to get my hands messy
* Photography
* Spending time with my boyfriend

(Well, ok, the last one's kind of a given, but it can't hurt to fit that one in there, you know?)

Hmm. I suppose this is more of a general update than any life lesson I'm trying to impose upon the world. Oh well. More to come.

(download)

So, about love...

I'm not sure who reads this, but I'm guessing I have the rights to talk about my personal life, as well as other controversial issues. If you've a problem, so be it.

(I'm writing this in the bathroom, by the way. Thought I'd let you know. Hey, Jerry Garcia's toilet was a prime factor in the Grateful Dead's songs, so I thought I'd try it out. I just hope my legs don't go numb. This is also a nod to my dear friend Ben, for one of the previous posts on his blog where he addresses the issue of bathroom inspiration.)

Anywho, I'm "dating" someone right now... if that's even the correct word. I've "dated" two boys (as in, beings of the male persuasion) already, and still I've never gone on a real date, been alone in the same room, or even had my first kiss with any of them. Maybe that's the way it should be, though. I'll elaborate from a teen's perspective:

Everyone's heard the term "puppy love" and have experienced it at one point or another... I won't lie and say I'm the exception; there are days when just a smile from that person can turn my whole day around, but there are also times when I couldn't imagine anything hurting as much as their rejection. It's terrible, but I think that we're only testing our little love-feet in the hot waters of boiling passion... mwuhaha. (That was a terrible metaphor that could have been saved in so many ways... I pity my literary skills today.)

... but there really hasn't been a day that I've gone through the lunch line and not seen a couple making out, holding hands, or doing who-knows-what in front of me. The teachers pretty much ignore it... but there's so much PDA spreading around that being single is almost like, well, being branded. We stand out (especially if you're someone like me who attracts all the Nerdy Best Friend types. Not that I'm complaining, though. Better than the entire football team, you know?)

There's really no way I can talk about teenage relationships without being critical, so here goes. I hate them... or what the other kids think they are going through I believe that, at this point in our lives, we confuse love with passion and experimentation. I'll be blunt - I don't think real love exists until after sex. It's all a how-far-can-we-go game, body before mind.

Here's what I especially dislike:

* Putting "ILY!!!!" in Facebook/Myspace statuses.
* Changing a Myspace display name to your name... plus their last name.
* "Marrying" them in one of those Facebook applications.
* Writing "I <3 _____ 4 Lyfe" on papers/binders/forearms.
* (Tattoos are a big one, people.)
* Ignoring your friends for them.
* Being all that someone talks about.
* Any type of inexcusable PDA.
* Uh...

Really, this all boils down to how much you talk about them and make your relationship public, to be honest. I certainly get tired of watching (and hearing about) people lose themselves in another person. But not that love should be a secret... I really don't know where I'm going with this, to be honest. In a way I feel that the love we feel at this age isn't the same as what we experience when we're older, but who's to say it isn't? Maybe we only lose the excitement of being with someone we like as we age... simply because we've done it so many times before and realize its true unimportance. Not that I should live my life thinking that everything I consider important is unimportant in the grand scheme of things either; there's got to be a balance, right?

So the question is, is it better to be "right" about the amount of love you feel for someone and stay within the exact definition, or should we use the word more freely and indiscriminately?

Hmm. Food for thought. Now that I think about it, the latter should be true. I love my friends and family. Why shouldn't I love him? I do. I did when he was my friend, so why should that change simply because we've acknowledged feelings for each other?

(Note: I have realized that, in typing this, I'm learning about myself rather than writing something for your enjoyment, so feel free to stop at any time.)

... We're seeing a movie Saturday. My first real date. I'm not as thrilled as I should probably be, but it's a nice feeling to know I'm not so nervous (for once). He's great to talk to.

My throat kind of hurts now, I'm brewing (is that the right word?) some tea or the first time to try and soothe it. I don't like tea that much, it was always either cold or tasted too much like water, but the tea bags smelled peachy (literally) so maybe it will warm me up from the inside out. Snowmaggedon has certainly taken a toll here, as it has in virtually the entire East. I wouldn't be surprised if we had Friday off school as well.

I'll add the pictures of the concert in my next entry, it was simply superb. Anyone who is even a remote fan of live music in general would have loved it. I was moved to tears in the end. :)

Mookie the Wonder Munkie

Haha. She was on sale in the seasonal department at Hobby Lobby. I was going to name her Randolph but that seemed kind of stereotypical of the area I live in, so Mookie it is. She's very soft (*squeeze*) and likes cinnamony things, as far as I can tell. :)

So I don't really see how I can top my last post (I even got a poem out of it, lucky me), so I'll ramble about something else for a few minutes until I can get back on my creative, nimble feet.

I can never find quality sweatpants anywhere these days... I can't even fit women's sizes. Everyone always talks about how embarrassing it is to shop in the Plus Sizes section, but I had to go upstairs in JC Penney's Kids section to find a pair that even remotely fit. That was equally mortifying, watching the store attendant's eyes travel from me, to my mother, then back to me, as if it was a joke. I don't look skinny, apparently. And the pair I ended up buying was obviously designed specifically for kids younger than me (brown and purple fuzzy material, etc.). It just doesn't make sense. So I bought a pair of XS at Target a few hours ago in hopes I would discover a new favorite pair, but alas, they were too small. Companies really need to work together on the whole sizing problem thing, you know?

... now I'm out of ideas to complain about. Maybe I should leave it at that, with the idea of oddly-sized sweatpants fresh in your heads. Now go do something about it while I sit and reap the benefits of your hard work, as I always do. ^_^

(Ok, speaking of reaping benefits, here's another topic that's been on my mind a lot lately, and this is even more annoying than the Great Sweatpants Complication tenfold.)

... It really, really bugs me when people always assume I'm the "genius" of the group and expect me to automatically do all the work. At school we often pair up in groups in a few of my classes; the girls in my row that are usually with me obviously don't give a crap about the subject, and I'm normally (well, always) too much of a pansy to stand up for myself. And they're sly about it too, complimenting me and making me feel like I'm doing them a favor or something, as if I equal them for a few moments. That's not the case.

When I'm in a situation like this, I'm normally forced to interact with just a bunch of pretty faces. They make me so mad and are (unfortunately) the source of a lot of my problems these days. It's not jealousy, trust me... it's hard to believe I ever wanted to be like them when I was younger. I'd pull my hair out (oh, wait, that's already happened) if I ever had to live in such a shallow mindset. They just... don't "get" anything. I know that most people don't ask for popularity (or maybe they work their way up, I'm kind of uncertain about that part), but even if someone has always been well-received and never had to suffer in the lows of a school's social hierarchy, there must be some feeling of guilt upon watching some poor girl press the pencil into the paper in fits of silence. There's just no way to pretend that didn't just happen, unless everyone is so full of themselves that they can't see what's directly in front of them. Having 3 conversations with everyone but the girl doing your homework, well, I can't help you if you can't see that that's rude. (Not that I want to be an attention-[prostitute] or feel like I deserve to be the center of all conversations, but ignoring someone is sometimes - most times - worse than calling them names to their face.)

What's even worse is that there's nothing I can do about being "that" girl. I either come off as (pardon the language) a "total bitch" by "not helping out the group" (what group? I'm the only one doing anything!) or I become the equivalent of a dog doing tricks for a bone or treat (or, in this case, a "good job, uh, what's your name again?"). There simply isn't a nice way to tell someone "hey, sorry about this, but I think you're a slacker and rely on me for your grade, so I'm not going to help you anymore, good luck!"

... I'm trying to get this out as articulately and truthfully as possible, but it just makes me so angry. I've told myself over and over that these kinds of people don't know what they're doing and will never know how they make me feel, but could they ever understand, even if I told them? Would there be a way to let them feel as inferior as I do when I'm around them?

*sigh*

... To tell you the truth, most of the times that I do the work, I actually don't mind doing it. I'd rather be smart and not hide it than attempt to dumb myself down for these kids and pretend that I'm just an average student so I'll actually have a chance at being their "friend." For a long time, I thought that would be what made me happy, but it's really dissatisfying and kind of degrading. This has happened an embarrassing number of times, and I only recently learned the lesson.

"No, I don't get this at all, do you?"
"I can't believe this assignment, it's sooo hard."
"This teacher's completely unfair."

Normally I just nod in agreement as they make "conversation" with me. If I argue that the work isn't that hard or that the teacher's actually very nice, everyone's opinion of me shifts drastically and I'm once again labelled as the girl that does all the work. There are words I have to keep under control, because people like me don't lose this kind of definition easily. I even have to watch my vocabulary around others sometimes. "Moronic" or "anthropology" or "tuberculosis" (surprising, isn't it?) aren't what regular teens use in conversation (well, not that "tuberculosis" should ever come up with any amount of regularity, but...)

These kinds of people can twist your entire social life around. They can morph everyone's opinion of you until you become the Weird Kid, the Prude, the Isolated One. You have no idea how fast word spreads with the use of cell phones and the "right" words (usually obscene pronouns work the best, I've realized). Until I can come up with a way to not look like a doormat to the rest of my graduating class, I think it's only best to lay low and just... do the work. They don't deserve any of it, but there will be a day when they understand what they have become. Karma can't sleep forever.

I've never really talked about this with anyone other than my close friends, but (as it's become increasingly evident in this post) I tend to see...barriers around people that others apparently don't see. Cliques and such. You give me a girl and I'll tell you her life story and what she thinks of herself; give me a guy and I'll tell you what he'll grow up to be and how many girlfriends he's had. It's a sad thing.

I'm waiting to be proven wrong. Maybe you are the exception? I see you. I know who you are just for what clothes you wear and what grade you get. It's a terrible, terrible curse. I end up distancing myself from the people that are "above" me in this deadly caste system (that's what it is, isn't it?), so I guess I'll never know if I've been wrong about them this entire time. I'd rather be with my own kind than be continually disappointed by yours.

It's sad. It makes me feel alone an awful lot. I don't start conversations or give compliments as much as I'd like to. I used to, quite often in fact, but something happened along the way that made me lose that. I wonder what?

This is enough. I've probably only continued to prove that I'm severely depressed, which I can assure you is definitely not true. For some reason I feel that I can write (type) here as freely as in my journal, which eventually lead to the inner workings of my mind (which aren't pretty, as you can see). But I reread my old journals a few months ago (well, I called them diaries for a long time, but either way) and I can easily see how strange I was. No "Dear Diary, Today it rained and we went to Burger King," it was mostly "Can this year get any worse?" repeated 180+ times with a different choice of words.

I think the definition of depression has lost its severity. Anyone who has a negative thought is depressed, it seems. Then, yeah, go ahead, call me depressed for being human, for being myself and being this age, for you are most certainly right. You've won the lottery, here's $10. Get me an ice cream and a bus ticket so I can leave this place with a full stomach and a cold heart.

Help

I know this is a little early for a second post, but I think I just about had a panic attack. It's not my first time nearly having one by any means, but I was very close.

The reason? Purely psychological, trivial perhaps.

... Does anyone relate songs to places or experiences as vividly as I seem to?

I heard the opening chords and my heart seized up as that feeling came rushing back, and something was bubbling up in my throat and I knew I had to stop this song, I just had to...

... for those who'd like to know the background to this (if I can get through it without going over the edge), here goes:

Love Reign O'er Me by the Who was the first song I forced myself to listen to after getting back on the bus upon visiting the Vietnam Memorial during our 8th grade trip. So much has changed since then. It was even raining during that day at the memorial, and I remember so much of it just from that song. The way the air conditioning on the bus chilled my rain-wet skin and left goosebumps on my arms. That smell of excitement and freedom and knowledge surrounding me (it now enslaves me). I was wearing my stupid hat that day; I don't even know where it is now. Maybe I gave it away like everything else I thought I owned.

During that short walk through the memorial, I remember was fighting to feel something. I saw all the names engraved on the wall, but I wasn't truly connecting them with the thousands of bodies that were buried in graves somewhere (Arlington Cemetery? Is that it?). I saw the flowers and pictures at the base of the monument, pictures and postcards, but they weren't really registering with me. I felt inhuman and lower than I ever had before. It was a rough time. I wish I could forget.

Then I saw a note scrawled hastily on what looked like the back of a brochure for something. It was wet with rain, so I knelt down to read it. I'll never forget these words. They took my breath away.

"Dear ____, I'm here with the son you never had the chance to meet. You are his hero."

The reality suddenly swept over me like a tidal wave, and I didn't know what to do. My eyes burned as I now fought the tears that were straining to burst out. I noticed B____ taking a picture of me a few moments later, his obscure photography stance behind me reflected in the black marble of the memorial. Such a stupid, ugly time to take a picture of a girl in pain. Couldn't he see I was turning upside-down? Didn't he know this wasn't the time to act so him? Such silly games we had played, he and I. I'm glad those days have passed. I wonder if that picture is still on his digital camera, and what he was thinking as he pressed the shutter that day. I will be forever immortalized in that snapshot, my hair damp with rain and my eyes fixated on the names that made so much sense to me for those few moments. There was nothing I could do but let the sadness take over after he walked away.

Afterwards I was the only one that cried. I hugged a friend and tried to get ahold of myself as a miniscule crowd of classmates watched. Look at her, the sensitive one, I imagined them thinking. With my head buried in her shoulder, I shoved the thoughts aside and let myself be comforted as gently as I could bear.

... This man never met his son. This boy grew up without a father.

Everyone else was in a somber mood (these things are obviously contagious). We weren't kids anymore. There was a new depth of sadness in everyone. But a cellar door was beginning to open somewhere in all of us, blossoming somewhere between the throat and the spine, spitting out ink as it burrowed deeper, machine-like. This was a new place to hide and store smiles for better days, a place for matchbooks and milk cartons and anything in between. From passing by the roses lain at the feet of the fallen and touching the names of the dead on the cold, wet stone, there became a certain satisfaction in breathing (and even more in realizing we still could).

In death, do you feel regret at the life you have lived? Do you miss people? Can you still understand loss?

In reliving this memory once again, I only miss what I've lost that much more. Longing cannot bring back what you've thrown away. (That's 3 things now... high school isn't agreeing with me, apparently.) They say to live in the present, but the past is so much more forgiving. It's the part that's already written, the only certainty. I'd rather sleep in my memories than fly through new ones only pieced together as an escape.

I consider myself I creative, mindful person, yet I fear falling as much as the next. These wax wings melt in the sun, you know. And where would I drop then? In what metaphorical ocean would I be doomed to drown in?

I'm in a mournful mood. This is too much. In the course of 45 minutes I have been driven momentarily insane. Thank you and goodnight.