I think this calls for a fourth slice of heaven

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.

Anyways.

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.

Since the break of dawn

So it's Monday morning. Again.
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.

Substance abuse

It's true what they say.
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.

The city that never sleeps

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.

Current song: New York, I love You by LCD Soundsystem

http://www.imeem.com/urbn/music/aEp2t6WD/lcd_soundsystem_new_york_i_love_you/

Take two

I, at the age of 16, am a college student.
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.

Dear You,

We have so many, many, many memories together. Good ones, bad ones, better ones, worse ones... I wouldn't say you've been there for me my entire life, but you have witnessed my entire life. And that means a lot, to know that you know everything about me. I'm so comfortable around you it's almost ridiculous. We're two halves but together we make a whole and a half. We're two peas in a pod and then some. I don't know where I end and where you begin. You've been with me for so long that you've become apart of me.
But lately things have changed. I need you, I do. But you don't need me, it seems. You've turned into a cancerous tumor that is begging to be evicted. I wish I knew what you were thinking. I wish that I could cut you open and see whats ailing you. Is it me?
I used to read you like a book but all of a sudden like some manic director you've changed the script, swapped scenes, edited the ending. But you didn't tell me. You didn't tell me. And I was left standing in the storm without an umberella. I was expecting sun, you see.
Maybe the fault is mine. I don't know. To be honest I don't know has become my way of life when it comes to you.
I miss you. I guess that's all I'm trying to say. And it hurts, like you've cut up my heart and crazy glued the pieces back together, to know you don't miss me too.
Usually I don't get attached to people so they don't phase me, I act aloof. Like I don't care.
Somehow I don't think that was an option with you. The answer was there and there were no other choices.
Attached. Like my left leg. My right ear, my broken arm. Part of me no matter what. I cannot disattach you from me anymore than I can disattach me from myself.
I love you. It sounds so foreign like I'm speaking another language and I fear you won't understand me. I took it for granted that you knew, maybe that was my first mistake. Maybe I should have let you know and not have assumed you did. It seems crazy to me that you wouldn't know, that I love you, more than I love myself. I do. I do. I do. Maybe I should stop trying to fix things and let life take its due course and let the pieces fall where they may. Maybe things will get better, maybe they won't. But for now I will sit back and watch you like one of those suspense movies we're so fond of. The kind that has elaborate plot lines and twist endings. And I'll hope, and I'll pray for a happy ending. Happy, like we used to be.


From,
Me