Thursday, August 28, 2008

craving your validation

I hate not expressing what is vexing me for fear that I'm a complete freak. Things always seem to fall into focus after you've thrown them out into the black hole of cyberspace. Lately, I've been feeling disconnected and unusually out of touch. Quirkiness may be a virtue in theory, but I feel all my nervous ticks have been making the rifts in my friendships even more obvious. How do you let go of a friendship amicably? Shaking hands on the fact that you have nothing more in common seems a bit obtuse. I have forgotten what it is like to be understood and listened to. Being removed has become the normal.

I dream of this person who listens to Simon & Garfunkel records and wishes on 11:11 with me. Who doesn't laugh at my daydreams and will wake up early to drive out to the ocean. An enigma of an individual who instinctively knows what song I'll like and how much I love to be kissed on the forehead. Kindred spirits, soul mates, whatever you choose to call them. I need one.

Every word that is typed onto the screen is marked with a little hesitation. I hate sounding vulnerable, pathetic, and, most of all, desperate. I'm not going to pretend that I'm not painfully self aware and conscious of what you are thinking of me at all times. A flaw that is so non-congruent with the rest of my personality, it is almost comical.

I sleep to dream. Deep in slumber, I have all the conversations I'm too afraid to initiate in reality. I tell some people I love them, others I miss them, and, to a select few, how gracefully I hide my disdain. Suddenly, I'm conquering my wanderlust and far off aspirations. I fight for one more hour of euphoria before I awake.

This will all be forgotten in the morning. After all, tomorrow is another day.

Sunday, August 24, 2008

lady lazarus

A dreadful realization. At first, you are voraciously furious and enraged. Your equilibrium has been capsized and the following pain is nothing short of acute. An inhuman rage is transfused into your blood and you are urged to lash out maliciously, spitefully, vengefully. Your thoughts flash past at lightning speed. You are utterly tormented with rage. Something unfair has happened and there is nothing you can do about it.

Numbing follows. Your brutal high comes crashing down and you are left with a sinking feeling of despair. You body is physically in agony. Hot tears run down your face and greet your lips with a salty reception. The weight on your chest grows heavier with each exhale. You are as pathetic as you are lonely.

You reach for the phone. How strange that there is only one person you want to call. Yet, even as you reach for the number in haste, you cannot persuade yourself to do the dialing. There really is no way for you to speak coherently, to breathe words.

Emoting seems to be a small death in itself.

Detachment. In a few days, you will have shaken off this ordeal. The sadistic butterflies will have stopped swarming around in your stomach. You will forget how much it hurts to keep it all stuffed inside.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

if you have big ideas you have to use big words to express them, haven't you?

My mom makes a carrot cake and the aroma wafts through the kitchen. I sit and drink a strong cup of English Breakfast tea. A cracked open window brings in a faint breeze and the sound of falling rain. I wear my favorite worn-in boots and a long, willowy cardigan.

In every way imaginable, it feels like autumn.

The summer seems to be dying at last and I, in turn, am becoming myself again. I have this ever growing sense of excitement because there are so many things to look forward to! Fall shopping, redecorating my room, the return of school, a new season of Pushing Daisies, and a long list of books that need to be read. Applications to be turned in. Paychecks to be collected. New resolutions to be fulfilled. I'm a bit of an oddity and keep my self improvement goals until the beginning of the school year. I can't seem to muster any motivation in the dead of winter.

Anyways, I don't think I can share all of my idealistic, happy resolutions. It always seemed like bad luck to exclaim that sort of thing to the world. I guess it is safe to say that I am planning in writing in my real life paper journal every day. I can't let blogging keep me from my inarticulate scribbles. I want to write more. I need to finalize my college list. I must beg my parents to let me go somewhere exotic, to travel abroad. I need to reread all of my favorite childhood books before I start turning into a big, bad adult. Reacquaint myself with Anne Shirley (who so adorably stated the subject line to this entry), Jo March, Wendy Darling, and the whole lot of them.

Also, the wardrobe to Narnia is placidly sitting in my kitchen. Perhaps, I'll post pictures later. First, I must go explore its interior.

Sunday, August 17, 2008

the sunday of our discontent

I’ve been thinking a lot about moving very far away. I used to think I could only live in the city because I loved the sophistication, the independence, and the constant activity. The buzz, the commotion, the excitement in a metropolis is almost tangible, it tantalizes every sense. However, I’ve come to realize that it isn’t so much that I need to be in the city and more that I loathe American suburbia with every molecule of my being. The never ending miles of Albertsons, McDonalds, Wal Mart, and strip malls never ceases to give one the feeling of a rock in the gut. I remember being almost physically sick for the entirety of the time I read Fast Food Nation because I was so disgusted with the realization that I lived in this hell hole of festering greed and sameness.

I’d like to move to a bustling city, but I would be equally happy in the middle of nowhere. I’d like to be cut off from all modernization. There is something so Walden-esque, so romantic about being surrounded completely by nature. I love the outdoors, I love those havens that haven’t been exploited and destroyed by the food chains and mini marts. This is why I’ve decided I must move to Ireland, Wales, or some other haunt in the European countryside. I want to be surrounded by sea, trees, and landscape for miles.

I’m not going to lie. Lately, I have been lazy, indulgent, and void of any self discipline. I hate that. I don’t want to hate myself. I need to work through this. There isn’t a painting to jump into or a magical train platform located at 9 ¾. This sounds so silly, I’m almost ashamed to admit it, but in the back of my mind there has always been the small spark of hope that these things actually existed. That there were other worlds waiting, the worlds found in books, for those that believed.

I hope all my longing for leaving my current state doesn’t sound self-centered or whiny. I am thankful for things, even if I don’t show it as best I could. I’m thankful for books, music, history, the sound of waves, sunsets, my sister’s piano playing, and for my own desire for adventure…and so much more. The world is full of beauty, you just have to look for it.

Friday, August 15, 2008

Sunday, August 10, 2008

i have measured out my life in coffee spoons

I fluctuate between loving and hating my family. Today I mostly love them. When my sister isn’t being stubborn or purposefully irritating, she can actually be quite hilarious. We can quotes movies and do impressions together for hours. I need to work harder at consciously getting along with her. We are each other’s strongest allies when we aren’t busy bickering. Honestly, my mom hates it when we both side against her on something.
Oh, my mother. When will I ever learn to get along with her? Sometimes I wonder if are personalities are too contrasting for it to be possible.
I am feeling so much better today, almost liberated. The sun finally came out, but a faint breeze kept the weather from being utterly unbearable. I love sitting on the deck and reading when that sort of miracle occurs. I finished I Capture the Castle yesterday and it was very different from what I expected but I loved it, nonetheless. Finishing books the day you buy them is such a nasty habit though! I always chastise myself from barreling through them the way I do, but I don’t have enough self control to keep myself away from the beckoning pages. I have a whole theory about this that I was planning to share here, but I do believe I will save it for another day.
It doesn’t take a lot to make me happy. I bought Clueless for the whole sum of five dollars and was positively elated. I’ll most likely watch it tonight with chocolate and two cans of Diet Coke. You can’t watch a movie like that without indulging in at least a few guilty pleasures. I have two new books to read too, and for the first time in weeks it feels like I’m regaining some control and composure back. Maybe all the lists I’m making on my listography (check it out, by the way) are getting me back into the swing of setting goals.
It’s not like all the bad stuff went away, I’m just choosing to ignore it for right now.

Friday, August 8, 2008

did you ever want to be overrun by bandits?

I don’t know how to coherently collect my thoughts anymore. Everything I’m planning to say sounds fine in my head, but the minute it gets written out it becomes disorienting and rather depressing. Can someone get word vertigo? I guess so, because I’m experiencing it at this very moment.

I’m developing some sort of avoidant personality disorder. I’m pretty sure all my friends hate me. I wish I could assure them that once Fall hits, I’ll be normal again. Summer has never treated me like this before.

Everything has been too hectic and loud lately. I went down to Pike Place around a week ago and it was swarming with tourists. I’d never seen it so busy. If I was in my normal state of mind, I probably would have thought the chaos was exciting.

If I was in my normal state of mind…

Friday, August 1, 2008

part of the beauty of falling in love with you is the fear you won't fall

I need school to start. I need this “break” to be over with. This tortuous, never-ending break.

Without a million things to do, my mind starts wandering. I start reliving past summers. I start wishing things would happen that could never possibly happen. Now I remember why I’ve always kept myself so busy.

“I want to know you," he whines.
"What?" "Know you. I want to know you." Pleading.
"What does that mean? Know me?" I ask him. "Know me? No one ever knows anyone. Ever. You will never know me."

I’m sick of myself, and sick of everyone else, and I just need to leave the country for a couple of years. I don’t want to be Felicity, I want to be Sabrina.

I don’t want to ever feel like the odd one out again. Is that even possible?

In the morning through the window shade
When the light pressed up against your shoulder blade
I could see what you were reading

Oh the glory that the lord has made
And the complications you could do without
When I kissed you on the mouth

It’s amazing how a song, a smell, a taste can bring back a whole flood of memories. Images that you had crammed in the smallest compartment of your brain, determined to never remember again. Then it all comes flooding back and suddenly it is like you are there. You feel every sensation just as it happened. And, now matter how much it hurts, you can't stop looking back. It's worth all the pain to relive those days when you were so blissfully...unaware.

I should stop blogging late at night.