I have just finished reading the best series of books I have ever read in my life and I cannot stop crying, the tears just keep coming. I am both happy and sad and in wonder and amazement and laughing at the same time. It was so honest and real and beautiful and makes me have hope, just some hope, and that's really all I can ever ask for.

Here's some cheesy Manilow lyrics for you enjoyment:
"You know I can't smile without you
I can't smile without you
I can't laugh and I can't sing
I'm finding it hard to do anything
You see I feel sad when you're sad
I feel glad when you're glad
If you only knew what I'm going through
I just can't smile without you

You came along just like a song
And brightened my day
Who would have believed that you were part of a dream
Now it all seems light years away

And now you know I can't smile without you
I can't smile without you
I can't laugh and I can't sing
I'm finding it hard to do anything
You see I feel sad when you're sad
I feel glad when you're glad
If you only knew what I'm going through
I just can't smile

Now some people say happiness takes so very long to find
Well, I'm finding it hard leaving your love behind me

And you see I can't smile without you
I can't smile without you
I can't laugh and I can't sing
I'm finding it hard to do anything
You see I feel glad when you're glad
I feel sad when you're sad
If you only knew what I'm going through
I just can't smile without you"

It became not just a sign, but The Sign

I wish for once that this one thing I really, really, really want could just work out. I usually never let myself really, really, really want anything because I have this fear of being let down. I always set too high of expectations when I do get genuinely excited about something, so they never get lived up to and then I am just always disappointed. I wish I knew how to be mellow without having to consciously think about being mellow, but thinking about wanting to know how to be mellow defeats the whole purpose. I really think too much. I really do. My mind runs in circles and never in straight lines. I always have a new question about something which then just leads to even more questions. This is better than not questioning anything about the world, I suppose. I can't even comprehend not being this curious, but I guess I would not be able to understand, since I've only ever known curiosity and not ignorance. Not that I am not ignorant. I am. I have so much more to learn about, well, everything. And I used to think I kind of had life figured out, and myself, but that's probably the most naive thing I could ever say or even think, really. (Is really the only adjective I ever use?) There is so much more to figure out about the world and so much more to learn. I have barely even experienced anything. Not at all. Not even. Of course at fourteen freaking years old I would say "I am happy being me. I am the person I want to be." Because at that age, and still even now almost two years later, I am really, really dumb. I would get an F in the class of life. All of us would. We're young and silly and prone to make all the mistakes we can. The only way to be smarter than all the rest right here with us is to recognize that we're dumb, instead of trying to pretend that we have things figured out. Who ever has it figured out, anyway? Life is just one crazy mess of tripping and falling down just to get back up again. And I guess that's the point really, is to just get back up and not stay flat on your face. "Just choose to be happy. It's a hell of a lot easier than choosing to be depressed." There's so many, SO MANY, things I want to say and a lot of the time I have NO IDEA how to say them at all. So I make up stories about people who don't exist and write about them and then it's easier to say what I want to say. Or I take a picture either symbolic or simply literal and then it's easier to explain to someone what I mean. Or I paint my thoughts all on a canvas and then it's easier to show someone what I am thinking. This has absolutely nothing to do with what I was saying, or maybe it does, because a lot of things I always want to say but can't have to do with life and how crazy yet beautiful it is. And art... just creating. I owe it a lot. Does that even make sense? I had such an uncreative existence a while ago. I just stopped doing anything: writing, painting, drawing, taking photographs, making ANYTHING. It lasted more than a year. Almost two. It was... horrible. But now that I am back and fully immersed in it... I know I can never stop again. Like I said in the previous entry, I guess. This is going to be my life. It helps my thoughts to be less jumbled and my mind to be less confused and my body and whole self to just be more relaxed. I feel like I can... I don't know, breathe, I guess. In and out in and out. It's easy. Simple. Organization within all the chaos. It never stops either... life is never slow. It's always fast fast fast. Quick quick quick, even when it FEELS like it's slow. It never really is.

I think I'm dumb. Or maybe just happy.

I have a secret: I love Barry Manilow, as well. His cheesy lyrics with the obvious melodies are so sappy and corny that you can't help but to smile when you hear them. In their own strange way, they are beautiful. Their own cheesiness makes them kind of ironic and rebellious for being so blatantly corny. Did you know he's the Showman of Our Time?

My goals for the future keep changing and then I just laugh at myself for being such a stereotypical adolescent. Of course they are going to change... I am only fifteen "with my whole life ahead of me." But for now, I would like to apply to RISD and then go to graduate school, preferably in New York or in some large and interesting metropolitan area. Sometime during this time, I plan to study abroad for a semester or two in France. Which is why my other plan is to take a French class next year at the community college. The only thing I know for sure? I do not want to spend my life in a cubicle from nine to five every single day. I want to fill my life with art, the one thing I have always loved and been passionate about since I was about three years old. Drawing, painting... simply creating. Photography, writing, filming... that's what I want to do. I want to take these thoughts I have in my head and put them into a tangible form to share with the world. So... art school is the likely idea, I guess. RISD is by far one of the best and my main goal, I suppose. Just anywhere other than one in California. I am getting out of here soon already... I don't want to come back.

"And I'm ready to take a chance again,
Ready to put my love on the line with you."

The fact that I just deleted my Myspace and Facebook and that it was such a relieving thing for me definitely proves how technology centric our generation, or even our society, is. A place for friends? More like "friends." A little thumbnail of a person's perfectly planned picture within a list that can be found spanning between such a small number as 10 to 10 million. So these "friends" do not truly follow the rules of friendship that we all know exist, but are merely accomplices in our main goal of being viewed as cool or popular in our peers' eyes (you can deny it, but we all know it is true). It is sickening beyond belief, and I have always known this, yet participated in the mindless activity regardless. Why, you ask? Trust me, I have asked myself the same question countless times. And I have been pondering the answer to this really obvious inquiry all day, and have come to the conclusion that I am, in every sense, just your average, generic teenager. This is really quite sad at one angle, but then just completely natural when it comes down to it. Some could even say it is harmonious and beautiful but I wouldn't go that far. It's more hilarious than anything.

Crocodile Lies

"I confess, yes, our Fall was all my fault
If you kissed my eyes, your lips would taste salt
But you think my regret is a lie, and the tears I cry
Are the crocodile kind.

The sweat on your upper lip starts to boil
White hot with anger, still convinced I'm your foil
You keep fighting me, though my eyes are free
From crocodile lies.

You, yes, you, linger inside my heart
The same you who stopped us before we could start
I didn't want to leave, but you began to believe
Your own crocodile lies.

The only person stopping you is yourself,
You won't accept that I want no one else,
So until you do, I'll let someone else have you

Every day, I live a lie
But not the crocodile kind. "

I'd like to think that my own Marcus Flutie is existing somewhere, living and breathing and thinking the thoughts that I, too, am constantly thinking. I hope he is there, in true flesh and blood, and is not only floating around in my mind and dreams and subconscious. Or just flying through the dust that sits in the air of my life, only to drift away when I am not looking. I want to meet him one day and have that real and riveting conversation that I crave each day I step out of my bed to live another twenty-four hour span. I would like to actually have that satisfying human relationship that is as challenging as it is pleasing... the one I've wanted since I was old enough to know better.

Fall

"We
are adam and eve
born from Chaos called
Creation
Ribbing me gave you life
Yet you forget
there will always be
a part of me
in you
Yes
I taunted and tempted
you
with my forbidden fruit
Does that make me
the serpent too?
Think what you will
but if I am exiled
alone
I know we will be
together again someday
naked
without shame
in paradise
My thanks to you
for being in
on my
sin"

One Pure Thought

Sometimes

life is so incredibly

breathtaking

and

beautiful


that there is nothing else for me to do


but cry.


Just cry.

Today, in Spanish, I was subjected to the most compulsive and disgusting conversation ever. "Oh, yeah, we were like, at this party and like, people got drunk and like, passed out on the living floor, so me and him just like, had sex on the couch, like right there! -giggle-" "Yeah, I've already had sex with like, ten guys. I think it's like, sooooo sooooo dumb when people can't like, talk about sex. Or cry like, during their first time." Random guy walks up. "Dude, like, my girlfriend and I were having sex five months before we were official and when I was still dating my ex! Ha! Ha! Ha!" "Oooooh, how bad! -giggle-"

That was my cue to bang my head against my desk and sigh. This is what I am growing up with? These idiotic little sluts who know absolutely nothing and will believe any guy who says I love you? It's sickening.

Kay, just had to get that out.

I feel unappreciated and misunderstood.

I have so much to say and no way to say it and I want to run at the park with no shoes on and cold air wrapping its arms around me, but I can't because it is warm and too sunny and I really wish I had more canvases because my whole body is aching to pick up my brush and just paint.

...I enjoy run-on sentences.

I should be asleep right now. When I am walking to second period tomorrow, my eyes will be drifting closed and I will bump into someone I don't know on accident and trip over my own feet more than once. I will feel silly and promise myself that tonight, tonight, I shall be in my bed by nine 'o' clock. But it won't happen. It never does.

Today I drove home. I walked into my house and sat down to relax with my book and pointless recorded television shows. I told myself I would work on my projects that are due soon... but I didn't. Instead I was lazy and disappointed myself and got angry over my C in physical education that I really don't deserve. These little things... I am getting tired of being upset by them. It's time to stop.

At least I went shooting today, since I haven't even picked up my camera since Easter. Some nice self portraits. I was pleased. I needed a break and it was really worth it.

I hope I have good dreams tonight.

I am angry with the things I cannot change.

Somethings are better to leave unexplored

I don't know. I guess I just like to tiptoe in the dark, when the sky is so close to being black and sleep has taken its victims. My house becomes so silent that it almost hurts, but I ignore it. I just wait until the silence leaves and the creaks and squeaks of the world pass through my thin windowpanes like the sand at a beach slipping between the cracks of my hand. I curl up into my bed and close my eyes, with my arms wrapped tight around my bare legs. I listen for the sound of passing automobiles, and then I don't feel so alone. My ears strain to hear the whoosh of those cars on the highway at night, with people sitting in the driver's seat, maybe in silence, maybe with a book on tape silently playing in their radio. Or maybe some beautiful song fills the empty air and the driver has an aching heart or goosebumps or butterflies in their stomach because this drive is leading them to a long lost lover or a sick father. They'll reach their destination and sigh into the night while I am still lying on my bed in the thick silence that consumes the confines of my minuscule haven and existence. The pain of the driver's heart reaches mine and my eyes fall into dreamland and I see them walking up a path to a red door that is really the only barrier standing between them and the rest of their life.

I am not a Californian. Nor am I am a Nevadan. Neither am I an American. I am none of these things. I am a human who walks barefoot on this Earth or this man-made pavement outside of the shopping mall that is made of the same things twenty thousand miles away in a part of this world I have never known. I will be a human no matter where I go, what I see, what I do. I can run on the sand of the Sahara and fly over the Mediterranean Sea and touch the depths of the salty Atlantic waters... and I will always be human. I can reside in Montana or Hungary or South Africa. I can be asleep in a four star hotel or a dirt cheap motel and things will be the same. I can breathe this air in this small town and exhale to feed every plant that has ever been known. I can inhale the thin oxygen of the Everest peaks or the humid air of Georgia in the summer and things will not change. This is me and us and all and every and the harmony is beautiful that the breath I breathe becomes so insignificant that I forgot how to inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. I can laugh at this thought and he can laugh at this thought while sitting on his couch in Dublin and we will never know, but we do. We know, we know, we know. We can feel the harmonious strings pulling us like we are John Cusak's puppets in Being John Malkovich... and it is beautiful. My smile can be yours and your tears can be mine and we can taste the sweetness of it all on our tongues at the exact same moment in time because it doesn't matter what the clock says. It's all happening right now and the numbers mean nothing because we're all just floating along on this string that will carry us wherever it wants to. But we're all on this trip together so you can let go and I can let go. Ready. One... two... three. Jump.

When I read The Diary of Anne Frank, I never thought I could read anything else as heartbreaking and devastating. But Night... it tore open my chest, took out my heart, and left a gaping hole in the middle of my soul. How could a human being do that to another human being? How could they use live infants as targets for their machine guns? How could they throw living, breathing babies into a fiery pit... just left to suffer and burn? How could they be so inhumane? It is hard to comprehend that these events actually occurred. That there are still survivors that must live with the memories of losing their loved ones... and themselves. To look into the mirror and see the impact of it all in your own eyes.

"For God's Sake, where is God?"
And from within me, I heard an answer:
"Where He is? This is where---hanging here from this gallows."

It will free me

When we tip toe across the sand in the desert, our feet don't even make a sound. Not even the tiniest bit of sound. So we break into a run and we feel free. Oh, so free. We're on the verge of flying, flying high, but we won't let our bodies take flight. The sky is scary and blue and big. We tell them we are fearless but Shhh! We lie, we lie. That's life. That's just life.

I am so ready for this. I am ready. I am... excited?

I fell in love with you long ago before your face had a body attached and your voice had a sound and your brains thought thoughts. I fell in love with this simple dream of someone like you when it was just in my head. Now it is standing right in front of me and things feel like they are supposed to feel and my body and my heart feel warm and content.

So this is it, huh? Alright. I can do this.

The lights glow up your face in the growing darkness and Grapevine Fires plays on the radio in your new car. It all feels so perfect, but I know it's not because of the one thing we talked about that other day when it was raining. You remember? The sky was gray and dull and you pointed this out to me with your pessimistic tone and furrowed eyebrows. I thought it looked beautiful. But my disagreement was pointless, so instead I sang "When I think about you, I touch myself." I laughed and laughed and laughed while you stood there and stood there and just stood. Then it started and we yelled and we screamed and we threw things into my door. It's white paint got scratched but you ignored it and I stared at it and we stopped talking and you left and now we are here weeks later in your car while Grapevine Fires plays softly on the radio. You are driving and I am sitting, looking at your face as the lights make it glow in the growing darkness. My head is swimming and it hurts but all I can do is say, "Where do we go from here?"

When something as simple as a song makes you feel fearless, free, and happy... you know it must be pretty good. Hot Chip makes my soul feel really nice. ("Sexual Healing" by them is a must, must, must listen). Seriously.

I want to take off and run into the sunset like the cliche ending of an indie movie with girls who wear tight pants and never wash their hair and really think smoking makes them look cool. Sometimes I wish life was that easily defined but instead it's not and it's complicated and hard and far from easy. But that's the good part. Really. Easy is boring.

It's silly how you told me you liked my shoes but then preceded to tell me "even though so and so has them too." I'm sorry, but shoes are shoes and they are open for lots and lots of people to purchase them and then, you know, actually put them on their feet and wear them. The fact that you said that makes me want to slap my generation in the face because apparently they really really really need it. Like, come on, go read a fucking book for once instead of popping pills at raves. If you even live to be middle aged, you will look back on this time and say "Those were the best times of my life." And seriously, that is just sad because at age sixteen, you've barely lived and at this time you should be looking toward the future because the best is yet to come.

"Dive deep. Drown willingly."

Skin to skin, we speak in puzzles. And we watch... we watch the sky fall. It hits our heads and we brace ourselves for the impact but it just melts in our hair like crystals of snow. So we stand up and dance again and laugh and try to be okay even if we're not.

I will miss the grass and the trees and everything green. I will miss the way the sun lights up the leaves during the golden hour. I will miss the flowers that bloom all through the year. I will miss you and you and most definitely you. I will miss the memories and the past that all live here and only here. I will miss waking up to the scary fan noises in the middle of the night. I will miss opening my eyes in the morning and seeing the sun shine through my window, lighting up each particle of dust in my room in such a beautiful way. I will miss this frustrating place, even though I know I hate it deep down. I will miss having the chance to make the same mistakes with you again. I will miss seeing people I know no matter where I go. I will miss the sleepless nights on the bed where my feet hang off. I will miss the weather that makes no sense. I will miss this house where I have lived longer than any other place in my life. I will miss all of the annoying people I dislike. And I will miss the ones I love, the ones I enjoy, the ones who make me laugh, and the ones who shoved their way into my heart when I wasn't looking.

But most of all I will miss what could have been and what I could have had.

I am looking at this as an adventure, rather than a completely negative situation. People could know me as something other than the shy, quiet girl. People could know me as I truly am, instead of this picture they have in their head and can't get out even though I have changed. This is a chance to experience something new, not just a chance to lose all that I know. I will learn. I will experience. I will meet new people. I will grow.

This could be a good thing for me.

I want to take pictures like this.

this makes me feel uncomfortable and wonderful all at the same time.

Such beautiful and breathtaking words...

Harden My Heart

Why is it that whenever something good comes around for me that something horrible must follow? I feel broken and I feel odd. I haven't cried this hard since... well, since my whole world changed on that one day in May last year. I guess big changes and me don't mesh very well. Small changes? Sure, I can deal. But those big, drastic, life changes are the ones that break me down. Even the color trick doesn't help those tears stop. And the color trick usually always works (Thanks to Calliope). White walls. Brown shoes. Yellow drapes. Beige carpet. Green pillow...

I think I need to read The Realm of Possibility. That always makes me feel better.

I am glad I did cry, though. It always just releases everything I've been holding inside. Stress, anger, frustration, sadness... And then I feel brand new and I can breathe and I look at myself and just feel beautiful. Good cries are just that: Good.

Thank you for taking the time out of your day to come and get me on Friday. It was so reminiscent of... well, you know. But instead of it being him, it was you and it made me realize how silly it was of both of us to think we were anything more than friends. We're not just friends though... we're something better. Something that doesn't require a label. I just know you're someone who will let me cry on their shoulder which is exactly what I need right now. But then thinking that makes me sad again because I'm just going to lose you anyway. Let's just make the best of the time we have left and have weekly dinner together again and go on our ice cream runs like we used too and have random conversations on the phone and just laugh at nothing like we did before everything got confusing. Things don't have to be that way anymore, especially now.

I'll get through this.

When my dad says mean and hurtful things to me, I give him the silent treatment and hole myself up in my bedroom. But then I always come out and forgive him because he's my dad and at least I have a dad at all, right? My simple disappointments are grains of sand compared to some people's problems that could fill a continent.

There's this house that they use for commercials and I always see it and recognize it from another commercial and then I realize that I watch too much television.

I saw this somewhere today online...
1. What you want your life to be.
2. What your life is.
These should both be the same things.

You know... show not tell really applies to many, many things in life.

I had a dream last night that we were floating on the air in a bar where the walls were made out of brick and a saxophone played in our ears. A woman sang Harden My Heart and I mouthed the words to you as we looked into each others eyes. The gang from St. Elmo's Fire danced around us and held tambourines limply at their sides. Then the music stopped, the lights dimmed until it was dark, and people ran out the door until it was just you and I. "Nice night, isn't it?" I said.

I woke up feeling the same way after I watch St. Elmo's Fire. That nice, warm feeling you get after watching a completely amazing film. It was nice. But I don't understand the rest of the dream. I suppose it has some significance, though. Dreams always do.

It's the tragedy of loving, you can't love anything more than something you miss.

Jungle Love

All I am looking for is someone who can decipher this puzzle of my brain; someone who shares thoughts so similar to the ones stumbling through my head; someone who does not mind my love for a time shared together, lying side by side on the dirty ground, simply appreciating life and the world, without tainting the beautiful silence with even one spoken word; someone who will trespass on properties with me just to get the perfect shot, a risk taker; someone who has not lost their spontaneity or sense of adventure; someone accepting, understanding; someone who is aware, but not jaded; someone who believes in love, but not the Hallmark, Valentine's day, high school, carbon copy. The sunny day, walk in the park, hug and kiss, holding hands, hair pulling, quiet, loud, silly, cuddling, drive-in movie, book of poetry, funny movie, favorite song kinda love. The someone who knows exactly what I mean when I say those things. You know, the person who will push me above and beyond because they know me inside and out. The person who will yell right in my face when I really need it. The person who will let me be all of who I am and love every part of it, love every second of it.

This someone and I... we shall meet some day.