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[Saturday
August 19th, 2006 at 3:42pm] |
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mood |
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quiet |
] |
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music |
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So Jealous - Tegan & Sara |
] |
“Sometimes I surge with power.
Sometimes I am unable to buckle down my euphoria.
Sometimes I feel really terrible.
Sometimes I want to go home.
Sometimes I hate my body.
Sometimes I want someone to love all my faults.
Sometimes I don’t want anyone to look at me.
Sometimes I don’t say what I feel.
Sometimes I regret what I did.
Sometimes I wish I was six.”
--- Sabrina Ward Harrison
Me too.
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[Saturday
August 12th, 2006 at 11:56pm] |
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mood |
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accomplished |
] |
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music |
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Downtown - Tegan & Sara |
] |
I'm not healthy. It's truthfully not that hard to say. I am not healthy.
But I can change. And forgive me, but is that not absolutely wonderful?
I have so much power. And I've got a whole life in front of me not to prove, but witness it.
Maybe I am a control freak. Fine. But I'm a damn happy control freak.
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[Thursday
August 10th, 2006 at 1:19pm] |
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mood |
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curious |
] |
| [ |
music |
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Speeding Cars - Imogen Heap |
] |
I know ever since I've been accepted to SCAD, I've been graphic design, graphic design, graphic design. But I'm really beginning to consider that minor in writing again. It's sort of calling to me. I seriously need some more scholarships.
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[Wednesday
August 9th, 2006 at 2:10pm] |
I got my rooming assignment for this year. I wanted Dyson House so I got Turner House, damn it all. Which means I have not one but two roommates. Joy. Kathryn and Lama. I won't even try and touch on the irony that I have a roommate named Lama. I did, however, get room #260. An even number. That has to be a slightly good sign? Maybe? Pretty please?
In other news, my entire face hurts. I'm addicted to sleeping. All my muscles are weak from the medicine. My mom made me cry for two hours straight last night and I've got a fever. I think I'd like to just shoot my brains out now. I'm waiting for someone to save me and nothing is happening. I'm pissed about being pissed and there's absolutely nothing I can do about it. Shit, shit, shit. Maybe if I just pretend it's not happening... maybe...
I wish my Sabrina Ward Harrison journals would get here already. Then maybe I could escape into her fantasy world and live the dream of creative passion for the rest of my life. Immi is the only person keeping me company. God bless you, Imogen Heap. Were I a lezzer, I'd totally marry you.
I don't even know what the fuck this post was about. I'm going back to bed. Murder me if you are feeling sugary and sweet.
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[Wednesday
August 2nd, 2006 at 9:16am] |
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mood |
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excited |
] |
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music |
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Le Papillon - Some Crazy French People |
] |
So I awoke at 7:52 this morning to Kaity serenading me with the Happy Birthday song.
She brought cookie cake.
And a buttload of quarters.
It's going to be an interesting day.
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[Saturday
July 29th, 2006 at 5:58pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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relaxed |
] |
| [ |
music |
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Every Me Every You - Placebo |
] |
I'm angry that I never learned how to sew. I often think that if I had just learned how to carefully weave thread in and out, bridging gaps and patching tears, then maybe I would understand how to do it in real life. I would be more able to run a thread along a long distance and eventually pull everything together into a masterpiece. I'd complete one masterpiece after another until finally, when it was my time to exit the world, they would all combine in one final flash of light revealing something grand and awe-inspiring.
That's all I need before I die. To know that something somewhere paid off, that I inspired a heart to make a jump they otherwise wouldn't have. To restore a broken sight. To design and build something from the ground up, something tall and grand and unavoidable. That's why we become architects, painters, singers and fashion designers. We want to add a little color to someone else's world and be able to die telling the tale. That's all right by me.
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[Saturday
July 22nd, 2006 at 11:51am] |
| [ |
mood |
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anxious |
] |
| [ |
music |
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Chasing Cars - Snow Patrol |
] |
This afternoon I'm driving at 90 miles per hour away from this shithole.
That's not poetic writing. That's fact.
And for four hours, I'm going to evaluate everything I've been ignoring.
In four hours, I'll be in Savannah.
In two days, I'll be sleeping in a dorm room with someone I don't know.
In five days, I'll return.
And then we'll sit down and talk and swap poetry for art.
You've got five days. Get your shit together before I come home.
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[Thursday
July 20th, 2006 at 10:57am] |
| [ |
mood |
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angry |
] |
| [ |
music |
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Let Myself Fall - Rosie Thomas |
] |
I consider myself to be pretty fearless. How that's even possible, I have no idea. I've had it pointed out to me the last week or so that I'm actually more chicken shit than the average person. I'm a little upset about this. I've always been naturally (and irrationally, mind you) pyrophobic. But then there's my intense dislike and avoidance of dogs. Oh, and what friend of mine hasn't had to experience me freaking out while driving? I constantly dread driving anywhere I've never been before. I don't like to drive alone at night. I won't go into the garage at night because I'm afraid one of those mutant roaches will finally decide to eat me. I don't like going to supermarkets and restaurants and such alone because of the looks I get from men I don't know.
I could list on and on and on. There's no point. I'm just mad at myself this morning because I have to go get a shot this afternoon and I'm scared. I'm going to be eighteen years old and I'm still fearful of a needle entering my arm. It'll probably be over and done with in ten seconds but that doesn't change the fact that my stomach curls just thinking about it. And the only person who could go and make me feel strong about doing this would never spare the time to be there, much less have the time at all. It doesn't change anything, however. You know, they never read this. But I still talk to them here, because all I can think is, I really wish you could be there for me. But you won't be. And that's really why I'm mad at you. Not because you treat me like shit. Not because you forget to call or blatantly ignore my feelings. Not because you dumped me for someone else. Not because over is never really over with you. Not because you lie to me. Because you're not there. You're never there for me when I need you to be. How can you honestly expect me to believe you still love and care about me? Now, if I could just say it out loud, I'd be making progress.
I guess I'll go get that damn shot now. Damn it.
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[Monday
July 17th, 2006 at 1:51pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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annoyed |
] |
| [ |
music |
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You Wouldn't Like Me - Tegan and Sara |
] |
Do you ever have a day when you're pretty sure you'd hate yourself if given the chance to meet yourself? You visualize the interaction, the judgemental comments stuck behind the other's lips. You can see the venom building under your fingernails as you plan to rip her pretty face to shreds. The satisfaction sinks over your shoulders and you're about to feel so accomplished. It's a good thing I can't meet myself in public. The end result wouldn't be anywhere near beautiful.
But we can meet ourselves on the inside. I've been meeting myself everyday for the last week. It's tiring. It's frustrating. I don't feel like the me deep down likes me very much at all but I'm still talking to her. I need to make friends with her, that great person way deep down. I think the last time we were friends was when I was six years old and still believed there was a chance I could find a unicorn out in the back woods. I hate how girls have constant battles with themselves. It's bullshit. And I'm so tired of it. Tired of battling myself, tired of battling love.
( I'M FEELING LIKE I WOULDN'T )
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