today's date.

Slowly. One at a time, they find their way to the page. So many words fill my mind, but as the years creep past, less and less make it to the page. Unacceptable. This was to be my future, my purpose. This was to be my calling, and here I’ve gone and sold out. Hum. My younger self would be disappointed. I’ll salvage myself. I’ll make it, I swear. I may be a hack and a phony. The words and ideas I try to bring to life may fail or just not be right, but is there harm in trying?

I listen to the notes flowing from my poor ass speakers. An egg chair, a pad of paper & pen plus a sweet stereo system is my wish right now. Having a nice camera would be nice as well. I miss creativity. I miss sensuality. I miss creating; crafting. I miss the feeling of achievement. I miss the beauty of it all.

I didn’t realize it would be like this. I didn’t realize it would drain me. I didn’t realize it would change who I am and what I want and how I’m ever going to get there. I didn’t realize what I was stepping into. I regret it, but I know it will be worth it. It has to be worth it. Is it because I’ll be the first? The only? Maybe it’s because I’ve already started- I can’t back down now. I can’t back down. Period. Maybe I really do want it that bad. The letters, the proof that I could do whatever I put my mind to. Maybe it’s everything. This has to be worth it.

I gave up something along the way. I lost something. What was it? Where is it?

i can't seem to see myself

Here I sit at yet another summer crossroads. I wonder how I got here, but then I think & it all comes rushing back to me. My ever growing need to stick to my goals. There is no bending. There is no breaking. Until three months later when forced. There are ways of cheating. Do not think I won't take full advantage of them.

I feel connected again. To the person I used to be, to the person you are. It all seems to make a little more sense now & I welcome it. I feel young again. I feel as though I'm capable of accomplishing something more. Anything.

I used to have more. Now my mind is empty.

santa monica blvd.

emotionally turbulent would be a cautious term for this weekend. i don't even want to think about how i'm feeling. every time i get used to life being a certain way it changes, each time throwing me for a loop. so i sway to the music & let it engulf me. life's easier this way.

i need to go shopping, but i still haven't gotten the chance. instead i wait for the weird noise in the speakers, alerting me to the pizza man's presence. i really am a student. a messy, lazy, procrastinating to the very last minute kind of student. i'm that girl who always has an energy drink in her hand and boyfriend on the mind.

i don't know what's happening. i don't know what i'm thinking or feeling right now & i don't anticipate it getting any clearer any time soon.

when does it start being decided that someone is grown up? I'm definitely not grown up, yet some believe i am. i'm still trying to figure out who i am, where i belong. how can you say that something isn't like me, when i don't even know who that is? experimentation... that's what time of my life it is.

work. school. work. school. work. work. break. rinse. repeat.

it's whether you get up.

summer experiences are learning ones. different, fun, & full of surprises. sure it's new. everything's new right now. i have no constants. to say it throws me off balance is an understatement. to say i'm often confused is another.

my words won't go together properly. i can't think right this early, yet i'm wide awake. the thoughts are jumbled, mixed in with who knows what's up there. getting stuck inside my head tends to be a common problem. i can never find the way out once i've dug myself deep.

don't talk to her like that.

my thoughts jump around far too often for these. nothing ever makes sense unless you're me. which you're not. why do i bother?why do i bother with a lot of things? i get myself down & wonder if dreams are hopeless. ambitions useless. what am i willing to sacrifice for them? how far will i push myself?

y'know, i'd love to talk to you, but you never answer my messages, e-mails, comments. i wonder why. what are you hiding? why do you hate me? why do you lie so blatantly? why can't you be there for me like you say you are.

i give up.

I can see her eyes looking from the page of the magazine.

I watch your eyes; there's a sadness to them. I wonder why. I want to know & I have a feeling I'll always want to. I want to save you, but I need to stop it. It's not my place & it'll probably come across wrong. I have a tendency to do that; try to help & just make people hate me in the process.

You intrigue me. Who you are, the way your mind works.. I want to pick it. What are you thinking? Who are you really? I wonder what you think about in your spare time. Weird? Perhaps. Why won't you let me in?

They'll wonder what I'm doing. They'll assume my intentions & it'll bring me down, but I'll keep trying. Their opinions mean nothing to me, though I quite enjoy their company. They will whisper & they will talk, but it won't get to me. This is much, much better.

Eventually, I'll understand you. I know I shouldn't, but I know I will. A certainty I will still attempt to fight.

Some truths & how I hate math.

don't you hate when you hit enter, only to have something be submitted before it's perfect? before you've reviewed your words [or written any, for that matter]?

here i sit. in an empty room of an empty apartment building. of a building full of people in a town full of people. yet is it odd i feel more than completely alone? location of those known to me is unknown. job prospects are unknown. & this song keeps playing, bringing me to that place.

i'd like to tell you that my undeniable answer is yes, though that would be a lie. i write here tonight hoping that when i read over my cryptic words full of meanings that i will remember what i meant.

do you find me too cryptic? imaginary reader?

i wonder where you've gone, mystery person. abandoning your conquests for the crack of light that shines under your door? i'm sure you'll return. you always do. they always do. people are predictable. they'll always go back. always.

been at it a while & i'm halfway there, i wonder how sweet it will be to toss it up & forget all the shit. it seems neverending these days (like the back pain that continues to develop within me as i age). i wonder if i'll enjoy what's next, the great & vast unknown.

i wonder why things don't come out right in times like these. words contemplated far too much for my liking. maybe it's time for a little spiderman.

I need to write; I wish you'd read.

Days go by & I don't pick up a pen. I should, I know I should, but I don't. I can't, won't.. whatever you'll call it. Nothing much flows from these hands anymore. Recapturing a passion is a tough, confusing thing. You feel as though you're forcing yourself, as if it's no longer something you want to do. But when it comes back, it's a beautiful thing.

So I wait.

Conversation has been prolific between us. I wonder if this is a good or bad thing. A sign of maturity, or my getting used. I don't know where I stand on it all, I don't know what it means [this seems to be a common theme in my life], so I don't know what to say. I'll be hurt if it's nothing more than you just craving someone who doesn't hate you.

I know how it feels when it seems like the world's against you.

I feel like I can't stop moving, thinking, studying. I did this to myself, especially today. It feels nice; as though I've accomplished something for the first time. Everytime. Accomplishment is always a beautiful thing, but it seems so rare. I often feel as though I just can't do what everyone wants, what everyone expects. Scratch that. What I expect, because it's often too much.

A bunny sits in the corner of the apartment, flooded with the belongings of a number of people. She's my companion now, she's what I hope will help me through the summer. Who knows though. Will she hate me? Will I accidentally kill her? I'm not exactly the greatest pet owner. I get so busy & then... but I guess the fish are still alive [she says while one of her two fish sits on the dining room table in a plastic bag].

I'm horrible.

I can feel my other ear now filling in, the precursor to the painful infection I was diagnosed with last night. I feel bad for babies, who cry because their ears hurt so much, but they can't explain it. It hurts. It made me cry.

In September, when I turn 20, what will I be? A 20 year old girl? A 20 year old woman? 20 going on 12? These are the things that plague me when I can't sleep & my mind won't shut off.

I think it wants to shut off now.
Zzzzzz.

3:29am.

i'm not sure what to say, but i know i should be writing. feelings & emotions & thoughts are racing through my mind but i'm not sure which ones to say; which ones to hold back. maybe it's my state or the time. maybe it's the time to think & chill this night gave me.

five dollars. thanks. five dollars. thanks. screw therapy. this is better.

hmm. back to that old chestnut. what am i supposed to do? walk in & blurt it all out? amusing, but i'm certain it doesn't work that way. no introductions? explanations? no "hi, how are you?" "oh i'm alright. & you"? just sit down & spill.

i think i might...

oh. you thought you were going to get it out of me. just like that guy with my number.

your words are doing you any good. best shut up while you're ahead. my attention for you has timed out. ding! move on. you can't handle me. no one can. well, except for one b-o-i. y?

your obsession pays off. my respect is yours forever. not to be forgotten or misunderstood.

peace.

pas de bourrée.

I pretend my life is a show these days. I'm the star, with my sub-par dancing abilities. Not even a week later, my withdrawal is full force. No pun intended. Every song is a new number. Every movement means the world. Posture! Smiles! It's been far too long, my friend.

love generation.

I need to get these juices flowing again. Passionless, I flounder. I may not be great, but it's something. Don't argue with that. Something's better than nothing. Two minutes in heaven is better than one minute in heaven. Grammatical errors be damned. Essays, excuse my friend, but please go fuck yourselves. These forced exercises of something so rightfully mine are tiring. Papers filled with bullshit surrounded by facts & evidence. Where's the emotion? This does not suffice.

pen to paper &... flow.

Picture perfect sitting there. Not you or him or her. But it. Confusing, perhaps. So perfect in it's natural state. Contrast. As if I know what that means. Focus. Maybe it's the camera, maybe it's me. Maybe I don't have what it takes. But I want it. I want what I see on film. Memories, beauty. Cover my walls. This summer's mission, perhaps.

Pose.

Unstrung in the corner it sits. Begging to be played, to be relearned. Skill faded with time. Sunshine beating down, tank top & a pair of shorts playing what I want to hear. What I need to hear. Another mission. Time wasted in the sun this time without the sheets telling me which finger goes where. I'll show you! I'll play from the heart. I'll play from the soul. Sitting on the balcony, I'll play a random configuration of notes & claim it to be art.

Fill my ears with beauty.

From the tenth floor, they'll be recaptured. Relearned. Remastered. From the beginning. Passions escape me no longer.

Passionate beauty emanate.

this isn't good. oh no, it isn't.

pulsing. i am unable to focus. i'm losing control of my words. they're not coming out right. i mean, we know i shouldn't be saying them at all but they're definitely not coming out right. maybe it's the place, or the lighting. maybe it's just me reaching for the unattainable.

drip. drip.

i look down & think of the general will, the common good. ha ha ha. this same magnatune podcast plays. the same mozart pieces just put into a different order. it's not helping. something new. reach higher. reach further. push it a little more.

if you knew the whole me, you'd hate me.

i'm sitting out in the back of the house. one deep breath at a time & these drums, this guitar solo. it's driving me mad. bringing me to a new state of mind.

why do i bother anymore?

the truth is: I don't. i haven't in a while. too bad. maybe i had something there.

it'll be different now. more than ever before.

So here we come to the end. Just over 60 days to the end of one era & the beginning of another. I wonder if this time ruined us somehow. So tense, yet so distant. Overwhelming frustration flows through my veins. Breathe. Breathe.

Stuck at the top of a hill, I panicked. Breathing became more & more difficult. Every stress & frustration flashed before me. Everything bothering me came to a head. Down, down I went. Zipper. Zipper. Lean forward. On your toes. Zipper. None of it made sense to the people I was passing, but I did it. If I can do that, I can do anything.

Time is ticking & I'm getting more worried. I don't know where I'm going or what's happening. The numbers are getting smaller. Expectations are getting bigger. I just don't know what to do.

another day another dollar.

Pay attention to me because of my skill, not her because of her beauty. Society frustrates me today. The weather frustrates me today [the one day of a million I wear my shoes instead of boots]. My family frustrates me today, but I guess the latter is nothing new.

More frustration is making an attempt at mending bridges that seem to have a few growing cracks in them, only to have the person on the other side not willing to try. Sometimes it feels like I'm the only one trying. Sometimes it feels like people don't care. Sometimes I wish I had that one friend that there was no bullshit, no fakeness, no hidden hatred or annoyances. Maybe that's too much to ask. Maybe everyone deals with some of that in every relationship. Maybe I'm not so good at this friendship thing.

I love myself today for the things I used to hate. I'm no longer ashamed of what I write or think or why. I love myself for my cracks & flaws. I'll keep learning & loving, I'll keep trying new things & failing. Life is this never ending story or game. You get bonus points & one ups. You achieve new skills at every new level. Clay's right.

The library has new "assrooms". How clever, boy who somehow made it to University. The truth? It could've been me. Sometimes I feel like that girl who just doesn't belong & is forever stuck wearing clothes from Northern Getaway. Does anyone else remember that place? It's scarred me for life.

I'm gonna fight. I'm gonna kick some ass. You just wait & see. I'm not some girl that can be broken. My knuckles will break & bleed. The sweat will pour down my face. I will dance on my toes & then throw my knee into your face. Watch it.

I'm sick of this bullshit.

Rambles from the Marion Orser Reading Room

This break has been too long & much has happened since my last entry. Not that I mind, & I'm sure my lack of readers don't mind either. Just a thought. It's all thoughts. Also, it's been recently brought to my attention that I often don't make sense. I agree. That is all.

Maybe I've become the person I am, a tofu kind of concoction, because I always wanted to be what people wanted me to be. Maybe I've become the person I am because I find things I like in other people & imitate them myself. Maybe I've been so many people in this life that I just take bits & pieces with me when I change. Who knows.

Lately, I don't much like who I've become. I complain a lot. I'm negative. I find myself frustrated by the people whom I'm supposed to love, who are supposed to make my life better. There's a lot I love about life that I've simply pushed away. Change is a complicated process. A frustrating one as well.

Can you tell I have a tendency to write without reading? Without contemplating the consequences?

I sit here, in a room full of people I don't much like. False. I don't much like the labels they prescribe themselves. Yet I find myself wanting to be their friends. Funny. Have you ever wanted to be someone's friend because you think they're awesome? Then you become they're friend & you find out they're what you dislike about so many people?

Is any of this even making sense?

I'm trying to be more accountable to myself. I'm keeping a journal for one whole year. Written on paper. Sure, many of the entries are mundane & have no value whatsoever, but they offer me a glimpse into what I like & don't like about my life. Give me an idea on where to start. Reading back is interesting.

I'm trying to reach out. I'm trying to get out there & socialize. I'm afraid my unreliability has made everyone dislike me this year. I'm trying. Can I get a fresh start?

I miss the lack of time telling devices in Jamaica. I miss the witty conversation at dinner. I miss the people to whom I feel such a family-like connection to. I miss the little pieces of life advice given to me, whether anyone realized how much they made me think.

There's gotta be something more.

I was mad, but now I'm just amused. Huck & Molly are too. That's right, even my fish find this whole ordeal sad & depressing. They're lovers, not fighters - but they still don't like you.

So back at it then, eh? Here I sit, the first time I've come home on a Monday. I write for me, not for you. Please remember this. It's not for those guessing odds. My life is not to be subject of bets, but if you wish to make it so, all the power to you. Your hatred fuels my awesomeness.

Next week will provide the experience of a lifetime. Hell, even this week will. It's all a matter of perspective, I've realized. I'm going to make this life what I want it to be, whether you agree or not. To be honest, your opinion (whoever you may be) doesn't matter to me.

Life in the form of written words. Each & every day for one whole year. Memories thrown in for good measure (& esthetics).

You're behind me. Stop trying to catch up.