Brain Juice

I'd give anything for a new start. Fresh, new faces. Fresh, new town. Fresh, new me. I don't know. I love it here, but being here so long has got me used to staying. And I'm not sure if I want staying to be my thing. I told someone that I get bored of people. I do! It's not because I'm mean, its just that.... I am always looking for something that needs changing, even if it was fine. I love changing my room, hate it when anything around the house changes. I love being free, I hate it when people cut ties with me. I'm a contradiction. What're you gonna do?

Great Big Planes. Go. They're a band. Chad! Save us with your mustache!

Homework made my brain explode today. Hope the wall looks nice coated in brain juice.

Let's

Let's make love with our bodies
Let's scream until nobody can hear us
Let's sing until we get it right
Let's catch our marshmallows on fire
Let's point to each star
Let's live

I want to do everything. and i will

Yet another concert last night. I love them so much, i can't stand it.
We danced and made fools of ourselves and tried to creep on pictures and talked and talked and laughed and had a generally good time. No pictures, though, because who needs cameras for everything? I mean, I can just... think. If it were really that important, I'd remember it, wouldnt I?

Let's read every book
Let's kiss until we're breathless
Let's laugh until tomorrow
Let's whisper secrets
and trail fingers down our spines.
Let's live.

memory

those moments,
you know the ones.
they catch in the light,
sparkling, swirling
like dust,
they're trapped there,
until you catch them up,
or until you want
to. Then they're
gone. Smoke in the
air, pungent and
tangible,
stirred by my breath
and rustling.
My tree, leaves
blowing.
Full summertime, my
memories are there,
ready to be plucked.
The fall is coming,
turning them shades of sunsets.
Winter, with my
memories fallen; gone.
Caught in the air
and shivering.
they're flighty,
those memories.

i know that doesnt make a lot of sense. OR any at all. But i just got to writing and thinking, and i just put whatever came to mind on my paper. Or well, the digital paper. you know what I mean. I really needed to make some sense of the words that decorate my arm. I love my words.

The line between my pen and mind is at war...

I'm obsessed with meg & dia. Really. Cross my fingers, hope to die, i hope there's a concert coming up soon. I love concerts.

I'm really really really really dreading homework. I have lots.

story

Can I tell you a story?
It might creep into your bones,
settle in, and never leave.
It might take your breath,
steal it and run off into the night.
Are you ready?

There was this girl,
you see, and she'd just moved.
A new start, she said, believed.
And for a while, it was.
She fell with the in crowd
with all their parties
and boys and fun.
She wore the right things
and said the right things
and it was perfect.

But then, she did something
wrong. She slipped up,
made a mistake, said
the wrong things.
She fell away. Those people
she once called friends,
they made her life hell.

One day, she couldn't take it
anymore. She went home
and found a knife.
She tore herself open,
and poured herself out.
All of her bled out of her,
all of her left.
She was just a shell of
a girl, empty and
wanting.
And that's the end.

Now, didn't that scare you?
Isn't that the scariest thing
you've ever heard?
Is your breath catching?
No? Are you reaching inside,
to see if you're empty,
too?
Good. That's what it's like.

Calligraphy

So, I've taken to writing all my poems with my calligraphy pen set.
it makes me feel all old-fashioned and cool. Like I'm not living in this modern world where I can just type out how I'm feeling and wear short skirts and show my ankles and all that good stuff. Where I can be who I want to be. Not that I don't love modern technology and times, I mean, I can be whatever I want. I can do what I want, because women are no longer subservient to men. Its just that... I would have loved to at least have experienced that. The corsets and finishing school and gas lamps and everything. Too bad it's all romanticized and I'll never know how it really was. Just like people a hundred years from now can't imagine how I live today. Or maybe they can imagine, just like me on my flights of fancy, but it's all going to change.

So. I've decided: I'm going to be a gypsy when I grow up. I will travel and do my art and writing and whatever else. I'll see things and meet people and help people. It doesn't seem so bad, and I'll never get bored! Here, my life is boring. I'm so used to it. I can't stand it! I just want something interesting to happen; something new every day. School is so structured, and so is everything I do. I just want something different. New faces, new places. That sort of thing.

Everyone's got cracks,
fissures under the surface.
I'm sure you've heard it all
before.
The lucky ones, they're
needle-thin, delicate.
Ornate, even.
Mine. Oh, oh mine.
Mine are not of
that kind, If you'd
indulge, and believe me
for a moment.
They're the kind that
kill, the kind
that stretch deeper,
invading to the core.
The deadliest ones,
they're not seen.
My invisible cracks,
fault lines broken
over again.
Reparations, rennovations
postponed for yet
another earthquake, a
mighty aftershock.
The ones that might
eventually crumble,
leaving me. Oh, those
ornamental ones,
I envy them.

Night.

Everyone's scared.
Nobody here is perfectly fine, a delicate frame, a fragile design.
Nothing's bigger than love.
-My Favorite Highway-

Oh, goodness. Today has been SUCH an interesting day. grasp onto that sarcasm, people. I know how much everyone wants to hear about my day, but that's too bad for today. I just want to know... why? why everything. Why do people love who they shouldnt? why is the sky grey, but still beautiful? Why are there two million shades, and I can't even discover them all? Why are people afraid? Why can't I think of anything for my ceramics project? why can't I seem to trust myself? Why is everything always better in my imagination?

any answers, people? No? I didn't really think so. But you never know.

I have 13 followers. Goodness knows how many actually READ my rants. But hey, if you're reading, thank you. Leave a comment? it totally makes my day.

I will post more poems eventually, I promise! I just haven't any good ones lately.

... And she asked me what the night smelled like. Like crisp blue october colorado days and the taste of stars. Rain, soft and soothing. it smells like the earth is breathing a sigh of relief, the day is over. Like crickets chirping and stargazing high in the mountains. that's what night smells like.

total lack of anything resembling initiative for anything.
I smell like smoke, hmm.
Homework has snuck up on me.
Whip it.
Every Avenue.
Final Destination, all wrapped up.

Rant

While sitting in the guidance office today, I was missing art class. Now, art class is the BEST part of my day, because I have no homework, and can do with my time what I please. Which is.... play with clay. I'm in ceramics. So, I was missing art class. I sat in guidance the ENTIRE period and then got in for a five minute meeting with my counselor. Five minutes. I sat for half an hour for five minutes of meeting. Really? Goodness, it was ridiculous. And I missed art class (insert angry face here).

Ever ignored someone? someone you kind of sort of care about? Yeah, it's hard, isn't it? You want to pick up your phone and send a nice text, right? Oops, I forgot, they don't want to talk to me! Or, oops, I forgot, they're an awful person. It's hard, but so so very easy at the same time. Ignorance, is it bliss?

Nosebleed

(sense a theme, last time it was headache, now its a different ailment!)
Yes. I could talk about my various ailments alllll day. but today, it was sunny, and the sky was clear, and I went running with nick! We ran to mama bears and then got my other friend, Kevin, and walked to a park. Great fun, we joined a game of basketball and it was hilarious. Then, I accidentally got hit in the face with a basketball. Oh, goodness. My nose started dripping. Hardcore. It was a gusher, for lack of a better word. But blood? It's pretty. Don't judge, because its not like I LOVE bleeding. In fact, I could do without it. But it was all over my hand and nose and leg, and when I held my hand up to the sky, the contrast was startlingly wonderful. I laughed the entire time, even when my friends kept asking if I was okay. It was actually quite comical. Then, I had to clean myself up at a nearby icecream store. There were so many people, and there I was, covered in blood. Yay. Happy days with the Mama Bears veterans :)

Headache

So here's the thing.
Exes can't really be friends. I mean, sure, you can try. But that little pinch of awkwardness? Not too charming, sorry. I'd love to be friends, really, but there WAS a reason that the couple broke up, no? Therefore, it would do to think that that reason was good enough to break enough, and good enough to keep you not friends. Right?

Also, guys and girls CAN be friends. Those sexual jokes and hugging? yeah, not really tension. Sorry, buddy, but friends works just fine for me.

Who is this buddy I keep talking about? Hm. I don't know. Society. He's a bitch, aint he?

To Do

I have oodles to do. But I'm taking time to blog it out, because I want to. I hate when I have no time to at least type a few lines. today, I have to really work hard. But that irresistible pull that the book on my bedside table has... It's really really hard to not just toss off all my responsibilities and find out what's going to happen next... Oh well.

What I don't understand is how someone can just NOT do their homework. I mean, its assigned for a reason. good grades are important to me, at least. Guess not to everyone, huh?

It's been an "oh well" kind of week.

I hate when you are talking to someone and it goes like this:
Me: Hi! We haven't talked.
You: I've been busy
Me: Right. But oh my goodness, guess what? Bamboozle Roadshow is coming back!
You: Okay.
Me: Don't you want to go?
You:....

Really? Don't even respond if you didn't want to talk. If I want to talk to you and you don't want to talk to me, fine. But don't make it so blatantly obvious. Please, and thank you.