Sep 29, 2008
And these thoughts keep me wired like a hot cup of coffee. (even though I don't drink coffee. It stunts your growth. And makes your teeth yellow)
I'm wondering if it's possible for people to change so completely that you don't recognize them anymore. I'm wondering if, maybe, you never knew them at all.
I'm wondering if it's possible to love and hate someone all at the same time. Or no, I'm wondering if it's possible to love someone, but not like them.
I'm wondering if reminding someone over and over again will make them remember.
I'm wondering if I hold on tight enough I can keep you close to me, even though you're fighting, and struggling, and screaming for release.
I'm wondering if you know that I'm scared to let go. I'm scared that you won't ever come back. Not literally, but metaphorically, duh.
I'm wondering if it's all my fault, and I'm just in denial.
I'm wondering if you care, even if it's just a little.
I'm wondering if you remember sharing secrets and stories. I wonder if you remember crying together until we were all out of tears, laughing together until our stomachs seized and cramped, but laughing anyways.
I'm wondering how you can be so oblivious to all the pain your causing. Actually, I'm wondering if you're not oblivious, but you're just looking the other way.
I'm thinking I'll have to ride this storm the best I can and see what happens.
I'm thinking I should go to sleep.
Good Night World,
I am so mad I feel like I will combust in ten seconds. I feel like a ticking time bomb. No, I feel like a shaken pop can with an infinite amount of pressure building up inside of it, waiting, just waiting, for some idiot to open it. Only I will not erupt, or actually I will erupt, only not in sickly sweet carbonated liquid, but in screams and tears and misplaced punches. I feel like a damn has burst inside of me. I feel like fire, like a fever, only I'm not sick with the flu, I'm sick with rage.
I don't know how else to describe how I feel other than I feel like the color red, like a bad fight, or, or, like when they don't have the jeans you wanted in your size. (Yes, I know how materialistic that sounded).
And I don't want to say why I'm so mad, other than how much I hate it when I am made helpless and when I am talked down to and made to look like a fool and I can't do anything about it but fight back tears and wallow in the melted puddle, in the sole remnants of my own self worth.
Calm down, J, seriously, just chill.
Bite me. I'm 16 years young and I'm having a good-day-turned-bad-night.
I think I'm entitled to a little melodrama.
Sep 28, 2008
Sep 26, 2008
Sep 23, 2008
Girl, are you there? Cuz I know exactly how you must have been feeling. Except, in my case, it was more like: "J, you're not in high school anymore."
Culture shock, much?
So I know you're all dying to hear about my college experience (yes, I know it's only been two days. Stop being such a party pooper!) And I'm sorry to have kept you, my loyal readers (thanks mom), waiting. But you know what they say. Good things come to those who wait.
I love it! Just being there surrounded by adults that consider me their equal! Let's just say college is good for my ego. I mean, that's not why I'm there, of course. But it's a start :)
And the bus. It's kind of a funny story actually. Well, it's funny to me, and you can just smile politely and think in your head WHAT THE HELL IS THIS GIRL ON?!!? As long as you don't say anything out loud. All I ask is that you nod every once in a while, and keep that vacant grin plastered on your face.
Him: Hi, what's your name.
Me: Uh... J. (I hesitate)
Him: Nice name.
Me: curt nod
Him: How old are you?
Me: finally tear my eyes away from the phone screen. Uh... 16.
Him: Oh, dangitt, you're underage. I'm 20.
Me: ignores strange man
Him: So what kind of music are you into.
Me: Uh. everything.
Him: You know, you look very nice today.
Me: offers a smile, rolls eyes in head. Thanks.
Him: No problem, you deserve it.
And the bus decided to breakdown so I had to endure 57 minutes of boring, unsolicited commentary. My neck is still sore from hunching over the phone, and my hip is bruised from having been wedged up against a metal bar.
The thing is, I wanted to tell him to save his breath. You don't have a chance, I wanted to say. To be honest, no one, unless they stab me with Cupid's arrow, has a chance.
And believe me, I have no problem letting people know that. It's just that he was being so nice, and he didn't warrant my normal Excussseeeeeee me? Do you know who I am? use it so often it should be patented, reply. I figured hey, today's his lucky day.
(Yes, my ego is slightly inflated. It's the side effect of a rockin outfit and a great day.)
And I (or rather, my parents) will invest in an ipod and a sound canceling pair of headphones.
And then I can use a line I've always wanted to, but never had the chance to, use.
I'm not antisocial. It's just you.
Good night, World.
It really is past my bedtime, and no matter how many times I ask you, you can't pause the sun and let me get in my much, much needed shut eye. So I have to sleep.
Sep 21, 2008
And no, not acquaintances, but friends. I know a lot of people, but there are a select few that I call my friends. And when I say, select few, I mean REALLY select few. I wouldn't say I was stuck up (although I've been told I am more than once, I really don't understand why) because I love people. People in general are fascinating. The way they're so complex, and multifaceted. The way they're everything and nothing like me at the same time. As cliche as that sounds, it's so true.
I want to know everything about everyone, and although my mother would say it's because I was nosy, I say it's because I'm curious.
Do you ever drive down the road (or sit in the passenger seat... like me) and look at the car next to you and wonder, where are they going? What was their day like? What are their hopes and dreams and sorrows and fears.
Before I went off on that tangent I was talking about friends. I have a million (slight exaggeration) but there are only a handful that I consider, I don't know, maybe like family. The few that actually know the real me and don't hate me for it.
And yesterday after spending some quality time with four girlfriends, I've just realized what a blessing they are.
It's nice to know that someone other than your mother loves you. And it's even nicer that you can love them back.
So hold on to your friends, because there may be a time where they're the only ones that can take you back to who you used to be. And I know one day, when I get older I'll look back at these memories, and they'll be the best times of my life. Like making a music recording in the Apple Store, being hit on by strange men, skipping down the street and singing Natasha Beddingfield at the top of our lungs:
From my heart flow...
I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you...
And I mean it, sincerely, truly, freely, and always.
Good night World,
Sep 19, 2008
And no need to mention that it is Friday night and I am not going to be going out with my friends. Really, I need a break from my crazy, hectic schedule lately.
Sep 17, 2008
But you know what? That's okay. That chapter of my life is closed, and yes, I will miss it, but that doesn't mean I can't open it back up and reread it like a favorite Harry Potter book. Just as long as it doesn't stop me from writing the next chapter.
God I am feeling way too nostalgic.
I think I'm going to go get lost in a gigantic tub of caramel popcorn and some Law and Order SVU.
I love me some SVU (:
Maybe I'll move to Cali and waitress in a restaurant while I audition for shows and movies in my spare time. I'm sure I'll get something, even if it IS just a tiny little part and all they call me is Girl 7. Little things lead to bigger things, right? Forget journalism and law. I want to quit my (admittedly nonexistent) job, drop out of college, get in my car (Drivers ed starts saturday!), move to Hollywood, live on the outskirts of 90210 (yes! I love that show, too) and become the next Audrey Hepburn.
Sep 15, 2008
I wish I could take firsts and out them in a bottle on my vanity table. Nothing specific like, your first time trying sushi, or first day of school, or anything, just firsts in general.
If you are reading this, I apologize for making no sense. Or actually, I don't apologize. This is my blog, is it not? I can choose to make myself coherent or a babbling idiot.
What I was saying before, about firsts? Have you noticed that nothing is ever as good or as sweet or cool the second time? Like when you meet someone amazing and you thing wow, this is the BFF I've been waiting forever to find, and the next time you talk to them they're just not as funny. Or when you buy a strawberry passion fruit smoothie from Booster Juice (because Jamba Juice is waaay overrated) and it tastes like heaven, but the next time you buy it still tastes like heaven, only a little less ... heavenly.
Except for cheesecake. I really must add, that cheesecake is the exception.
What I want to capture is that initial amazingness of firsts. That feeling that this is perfect, no improvement needed.
Which would kinda defeat the purpose, huh? I mean, if the feeling were replicateable (yes, I am aware that is not a word. Call it creative license.) than it wouldn't be as special, would it?
So I guess I'll just stick to cheesecake. It's a little past noon and I'm already on my third slice. What can I say? It's cheesecake.
God, not to sound pessimistic or anything, but I HATE Mondays. I know this probably sounds ridiculous since I have no school until next next week, but it's the principle of the thing.
I mean, I probably wouldn't mind it so much if I were sleeping like any normal person, but my idiot of a little brother has been up since the break of dawn watching his PBS so-called educational cartoons.
And I guess I could go upstairs and sleep, but he's psycho and you never know what he'll get into. So I'll be staying down here, more for my safety than anything else.
Listening to the irritating drones of Clifford.
Everyone knows they save the shitty stuff for really late at night and really early in the morning.
Yes, I heard that voice. That insightfulness that takes the tone of my mother had just informed me that 9 o clock, is considered neither.
Sep 13, 2008
What do you mean, J? They say a lot of things.
I mean, when they say running gives you a natural high.
Yes. Yes. You heard right.
I went running! And I can honestly say it was the most amazing run of my life. Right now I'm planning on running every other day so that I can play soccer in the winter without keeling over and dying, but honestly? Who knows. I might never run again.
But now let me bask in my post-run euphoria.
Nothing feels better than wanting to stop, needing to stop, and not stopping. Nothing makes you feel more infinite than when you feel like you've reached your limit and you keep going. It's a beautiful place when all the world is paused, and it's just you and the wind and the heat and the night and the repetition of your feet slamming against the cement.
My body aches, my feet hurt and I'm nauseous but I can say I've never felt better and mean it.
Sep 11, 2008
New York, to me, is a celebrity in her own rights. She's glitz and glam and all that glitters. She has that ethereal glow that transports her to some unworldy level. Not quite perfect. But only if you look hard enough. Everyone thinks they know her, but unless you've shared her space and breathed her air, you don't. New York, I want to know you. I want to become your most intimate friend. Tell me your secrets and scandals and I won't indulge anyone but myself. Tell me of your tragedies and your triumphs so that I may cry and laugh with you. I want to sing down your streets and dance in your rain.
New York, who ever would have thought? That the two of us with such different stories are chapters in the same book.
I hope you haven't gotten the wrong impression. I'm not some crazy stalker fan. New York, I am sincere and I think we could do a lot for each other.
You need me almost as much I need you.
You know when people say 'this is the first day of the rest of your lives'?
I've always been like, okaaaay sure. So the life I was living up to this point, what would you call that? A pre-test?
But I get it. I really do. September 22nd, my first day of classes, will be the first day of another stage in my life.
I remember when I first heard about the early college program, I thought it was such a great idea, but at the time I was too caught up with high school to really give it any more thought.
Until last year happened and I grew up some over the summer.
How amazing will it be do define myself? To know that there is MORE to me than just high school.
So I'm ready.
I remember the end of eighth grade and how excited-can't-even-describe-it I was for high school. And it was everything I wanted it to be for the first half of the first semester. But it got really old really fast.
I guess there are a lot of things I'll miss about it, but it's okay. Like the author that has just gotten up the nerve to throw out a drawn out chapter that was headed nowhere and begin a new one, knowing that this draft will be better than the last.
I like that.
This draft will be better than the last.