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[03 Oct 2008|05:54am] |
i've been sitting here for 15 minutes trying to express in words the way i'm feeling right now
and i can't.
completely broken would be accurate.
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[25 Sep 2008|12:23am] |
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it's my birthday
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[20 Sep 2008|04:07am] |
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stand still look pretty - the wreckers |
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life is ...
not what i expected, but good nonetheless.
i wish i was more committed to this journal. the way i used to be. maybe that's a blessing, though.
i have to see luke on monday and i'm dreading it. poor guy, like he needs to deal with me right now.
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[07 Sep 2008|10:04pm] |
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i don't think i will ever be able to not hate myself.
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[28 Aug 2008|08:00pm] |
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i, too, am falling apart. i know exactly how you feel.
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| wasteland! |
[28 Aug 2008|12:00am] |
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it felt like they were telling each other secrets. everything they said felt like that - whispered, tender, full of other meanings, like when you tell someone a dream or talk about your astrological signs as code for all the things you love about each other
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[25 Aug 2008|03:02pm] |
A few nights later, I am sitting by Grandma's bed, reading Mrs. Dalloway to her. It's evening. I look up; Grandma seems to be asleep. I stop reading, and close the book. Her eyes open.
"Hello," I say.
"Do you ever miss him?" she asks me.
"Every day. Every minute."
"Every minute," she says. "Yes. It's that way, isn't it?" She turns on her side and burrows into the pillow.
"Good night," I say, turning out the lamp. As I stand in the dark looking down at Grandma in her bed, self-pity floods me as though I have been injected with it. It's that way, isn't it? Isn't it.
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| http://pleasefindthis.blogspot.com/ |
[20 Aug 2008|04:21am] |
You are different. You're not the same. Something about you stands out. Something about you shines in the dusk.
You will change the world.
I can feel it in my bones, my skin, my tongue. My fingers.
I have so much faith in you.
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[15 Aug 2008|01:44am] |
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when people meet and fall in love sparks fly. it is true, of course, that on the cosmic scale most of us are very small indeed, so that the sparks which we strike from each other's edges are insignificant to the point of being almost imperceptible - a kind of faint, briefly pulsing dust, soon to lose its evanescence glitter and be swept up casually with the rest of life's detritus. sometimes, though, these sparks glow brighter, last longer. sometimes from them is lit a hearth of enduring warmth and comfort. occasionally - as legends tell us - they shake the world, set whole cities aflame, launch a thousand ships ...and sometimes they merely sear and scorch, till hearts once tender are numbed with scar tissue.
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[13 Aug 2008|06:07am] |
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degausser - brand new |
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"Take me, take me back to your bed
I love you so much that it hurts my head
Say, 'I don't mind you under my skin.
I'll let the bad parts in, the bad parts in'
Well when we were made we were set apart"
"when we were made we were set apart is a reference to Plato's Symposium, where the mention of the Classical Soulmate Theory was born. the story is as such:
long ago, humans were actually two people combined at the spine. they had 8 limbs, and two faces on either side, both unaware of the other. zeus feared their growning power and split them in two. now every human searches the globe trying to find their other half."
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[13 Aug 2008|05:58am] |
i hate my computer so much. the time zones/dates on it are so fucked up right now with all the traveling. anyways, it's been saying that it's august 12th for the past three days. i am so confused. plus everytime i try to do something it freezes all over the place. i can't send files on msn or the blue screen of death pops up.
my sister has basically moved in with me for the time being. i have no phone. i have stitches in my bottom lip. i feel sick. i am drained, but it's in a good way. i have all this freedom now and i don't know what to do with it. i don't want to do anything with it. i don't miss anyone or anything. do you know how good that feels?
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[10 Aug 2008|06:31pm] |
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bitches ain't shit - ben folds |
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so luke came over and the hatred for me that he so obviously felt is bothering me. i just don't want him to tell people stuff about me.
he will, of course, but i don't want him to. he doesn't care.
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| i deleted this by mistake. luckily, i still had it on my laptop. |
[09 Aug 2008|07:58am] |
He never held my hand, and I never had to worry about whether it was with hands cupped or fingers laced. And we never took a walk together where we kept going even past the neighbour's no-trespassing sign, and we never got caught or ran back until we collapsed laughing in the grass. And we never got lost together or had to fight about which way way right, and I never told him he should have asked for directions.
And he never gave me the directions to his house, and I never pressed his doorbell, or made a dumb comment about his ugly wallpaper, and we never sat together at the polar ends of the couch without knowing what to do. And he never taught me how to play Halo, or held my fingers on the control so I could learn it, and I never showed him how to use chopsticks, or let him eat lo mein off my chopstick because he was just so terrible at using them. And we never had one of those lulls in the conversation where we were both so nervous we couldn't speak. We never had any of those really good awkward moments.
And he never picked me up at seven or took me to the movies or dinner or mini-golfing. And I never spent an hour getting dressed or doing my hair or putting on mascara waiting for him. And he never burned me a mixed tape or won me a stuffed animal or introduced me as his girlfriend to his friends. And we never went Dutch or had our picture taken in public or slow danced together to the last song of the night. And he never put his arm around my waist, and I never put my head on his shoulder or left it there like I was sleeping.
And he never kissed me.
And I never ate dinner with his parents, or worried that they didn't like me, and he never shook my father's hand, and my mother never showed him my embarrassing baby photos. And I never sat with him three hours at his sister's boring piano recital and he never brought me chicken soup just because I was sick. And we never spent all night on the phone, and he never told me what scared him or what he really believed about life, and I never told him anything I hadn't told anyone else before. And he never had to rescue me or hold me tightly while I cried. And he never trusted me, and I never needed him.
And we never had sex in the woods, or in the back seat of his Chevy, or in my parents' house. And he never told me that he loved me, and I never said it back. And I never worried about if it was true or not. And he never forgot our anniversary, or my birthday, or that we had a date. And he never made me really angry with him, and he never had to call and apologize, and I never had to refuse to answer, so he never had to stand outside my window with a boom box.
And he never got on my nerves so much that I tried to change him, and he never resented me for it. And I never thought there was someone else, or flirted with his best friend just to make him jealous and he never called me a slut or a bitch and I never, ever slapped him. He never said anything that cut me so deep that I cried about it all night, and I never hated him, or decided that we needed to take a break, and we never agreed to still stay friends. And he never broke my heart. And he never tried to say anything about it being him, not me, and he never needed to, because it was me, not him.
And we had different taste in movies and music and hobbies, but we thought the same way, so we were either in unshakable accord about something, or we bickered about it constantly. And he told me that he drafted all of his arguments for all of his bickering in advance and planned them out, filling in the other people's answers, and thinking of how to win. And I never told him that I did that too or that I was amazed that I wasn't the only one.
And we never took a walk together anywhere, and he never kissed me, and he never broke my heart. And I only realized later: I should have lived my whole life differently.
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[03 Aug 2008|12:19am] |
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i am so, so, so tired. take that whichever way you want.
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| that was quite a show |
[31 Jul 2008|06:29am] |
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take a bow - rihanna |
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surrounded by chaos, we are understandably led to temper the full horror of contingency by suggesting that certain things happen to us because they have to, thereby giving the mess of life a sustaining purposiveness and direction. though the dice may roll any number of ways, we frantically draw up patterns of necessity, never more than when it is the inevitability that one day we will fall in love. we are forced to believe that this meeting with our redeemer, objectively haphazard and hence unlikely, has been prewritten in a scroll slowly unwinding in the sky, and that time must therefore eventually [however reticent it has been till now] reveal to us the figure of our chosen one. what lies behind this tendency to read things as part of a destiny? perhaps only its opposite, the anxiety of contingency, the fear that the little sense there is in our lives is merely created by ourselves, and that there is no scroll [and hence no preordained face awaiting] and that what may or may not be happening to us has no sense beyond what we choose to attribute to it - in short, the anxiety that there is no God to tell our story and hence assure our loves.
every fall into love involves [to adapt oscar wilde] the triumph of hope over self-knowledge. we fall in love hoping that we will not find in the other what we know is in ourselves - all the cowardice, weakness, laziness, dishonesty, compromise, and brute stupidity. we throw a cordon of love around the chosen one and decide that everything that lies within it will somehow be free of our faults and hence lovable. we locate inside another a perfection that eludes us within ourselves, and through union with the beloved hope somehow to maintain [against evidence of all self-knowledge] a precarious faith in the species.
we can only ever fall in love without knowing whom we have fallen in love with. the initial movement is necessarily founded on ignorance . so if i called it love in the face of so many doubts, both psychological and epistemological, it was perhaps out of a belief that the word could never be used accurately. as love was not a place, or colour, or chemical, but all three of these and more, or none of these and less, might not everyone speak and decide as they wished when it came to this province? did this question not lie beyond the academic realm of true and false? love or simple obssession? who, if not time [which was its own liar] could possibly begin to tell?
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[21 Jun 2008|08:45am] |
i haven't slept yet
i'm off to europe today.
i won't be around much. i hope you all have a fantastic summer.
i love every one of you.
ps: watch the other boleyn girl. very good!
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| i've been waiting for this moment all my life, but it's not quite right. |
[10 Jun 2008|03:12am] |
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lazy eye - silversun pickups |
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luke and i are both so sick i'm not even sure how we're still alive. we have terrible colds. at first it was just THE BOY who had it, then i had to go and play doctor and now i have it too. oh well. we both slept all day and now i'm awake and dying from cramps, too. ohhh life.
POINT: my father is here! i haven't actually SEEN him yet, because i told him not to come near me or luke at risk of catching whatever it is we have. but depending on how i/we feel, i'll get to see him tomorrow :) that will be nice.
PS: happy 21st birthday meagan!!!
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[03 Jun 2008|04:20am] |
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there's nothing in the world i wouldn't do for you.
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