Arrogance.

I haven't updated in a long time because I have come to think of myself as "too good" for such uses of my time. Or I just thought my mind was clear enough that I didn't need to ramble. Oh shame that I find myself hiding and procrastinating again. Avoiding, actually. Hmmm.

Let's remember that very annoying level toward the end of Chrono Trigger where you have to climb Mt. Woe (to resurrect Crono). The wind is blowing, and you have to hid behind a tree so the force doesn't knock you off the mountain. If you don't have tree hiding behind down really well, this task can get quite INFURIATING. For some reason, I got really pissed at it while playing the DS version...I don't recall having that much of a struggle on my first two psone play-throughs. But regardless, I'm trying to turn that rather geeky reference into a metaphor pertaining to my emotional status.

I'm trying to run up a mountain. Mostly likely not Mt. Woe though. But I'm so freakin' afraid. Terrified. At times, I can beat a deer in the headlights for expressions of shock. Just ask anyone who has interrupted one of my deep thought processes. I look either upset or mad. I don't know; I can't see my own face without a mirror. Duh. I refuse to let the wind touch me. It might disturb my hair or sting my eyes; it might leave me vulnerable. A wind tunnel is a constant barrage. A cold, real barrage. I can't live with that. So I hide behind trees as I climb. I'm still making the climb, experiencing the various peaks, but in most circumstances, I'm not about the expose myself to the world.

I don't know if the wind is cold; I don't know if I should be crying know. I'm feeling numb. Not sure what to do. If I'm happy or just RUNNING AWAY. BEING LAZY. DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT.

I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT.

WHATEVER IT IS.

I NEED TO TALK ABOUT IT.

lmao.

I don't get it.

Yes, you do.

See, I am afraid of being knocked off the mountain, afraid I don't deserve to being climbing that mountain. I'm used to seeing myself as a loser who doesn't get anywhere. But now, I kinda have a new persona. I'm not a loser. I have a lot to offer the world. I'm afriad to let the world see me because I'm afraid the world will reject me...again. I can make it higher hiding behind the trees...

But do you know I am here world?

Dear Alex,

I have no witty opening for my feelings, no way to put nearly a year and a half of confusion, regret and anger other than the following paragraphs. I’ve tried to resolve my feelings other ways, but I’m hoping my words will finally grant me the closure I seek for desperately. I wish I could weave my emotions into a nicely embroidered scarf, tie it around my neck and move on with my life. But alas, the long threads that I could knit into a beautiful piece of clothing either got knotted together or have worn down from over-fingering. Because as most people would agree, I over think my life. I ponder, analyze and obsess- whichever word you want to use works fine.

Let’s say my –very contradictory- feelings are a scarf. Instead of blowing poetically in the wind behind me as I strut down a crowded street, the zeal of my appearance turning the heads of everyone I pass, the scarf gets caught on a fence, and I choke and fall to my knees. The crowds actually look away so, you know, they don’t have to help. The fabric frayed on the sharp metal ends of the fence, and I’m stuck here, caught on the fence. I’d rather unravel this whole mess of –emotion- fabric before I’d cast away the old scarf. Yes, perhaps I’m wasting time because the scarf is ruined anyway, but I’d like to learn something from the tragedy, understand a lesson about the dynamics of relationships and change, see firsthand how little things come together to form patterns and ultimately, take control over my self-destructive insecurities so I can finally look my scarf-less self in the eyes, smile and walk away.

Now, of course, I don’t know how to knit, and I don’t wear anything but necklaces around my neck so the entire introduction is something of a lie. But what do I know of truth? Truth for me is an –extended- metaphor (extended is in “-‘s” because that statement is funnier without the word extended, but my scarf analogy certainly creates an extended metaphor. You know you’re in trouble when “metaphor” isn’t a strong enough word. While I admit to not having a clue about knitting or choosing the right threads for the project, part of me at least hopes I can entwine wit and reality; times come up when I doubt my writing skills as well. But in relevance to you, I should glare in your general direction whenever I describe myself as a writer in the first place. Without you who is to say my beloved outlet wouldn’t have forever remained my unspoken dream. Or maybe I give you too much credit; maybe I always have. But I remember clearly thinking as I was walking through the halls of Stagg over four years ago “writing is just for fun. I could never write for real. I’m too silly.” Yeah, that’s a useless anecdote, but I have a lot of them hovering in the air above my rational thought processed so I like to sprinkle them around every once and awhile so I don’t get attacked by a swarm one day. Qualm the masses, so to speak. Actually writing has become a way to give my more rebellious, unfocused or dreamy thoughts a place to roam free. When you subtract some of the building charge, you get less lightening.

Not only do I digress, but I fear I’m telling you more than I intended. I wanted only to liberate rotting chunks of –whatever- I feel for you. Honestly though, I think my words reveal everything. Writing comes from a part of me beyond my rational brain. Truth comes spur of the moment—except in this case where I’ve deconstructed over and over my –once- relationship with you. The whole process has haunted me. Really, it has; I’ve longed to forget about you so many times. But, obviously, I haven’t. I can recall most events quite well. I just avoid any trips down memory lane. In metaphorical terms, in order to leave this state I’m at now, I need to hit the issue squarely on the head, dig up the roots so they stop sprouting more weeds. Only a bull’s eye will score. I’ve been capable of hitting the nail on the head, articulating the truth to you for a long while, but even before I added silence and dishonesty to the mix, the reality stung. For as much of a sadist as I tend to be, I avoid pain. I’ll scour every place, examine all possible reason while glossing over the gaping wound. Perhaps this talent once saved my life, allowed me to slowly break down my issues until I reached the heart, but the adaptation has left me vulnerable to my own insecurities as well. I’m sure you can find a few metaphors for adaptations that save but also weaken their host in the biological world. None present the needed answers I’ve found—only digging and scrapping for truth can. So I’ll embrace the unspoken thoughts that float around me nagging as they un-surface now and then.

Even in writing, I’m great at explaining things and presenting ideas but not so good at presenting conflict. I can write entire stories where nothing really goes awry. You can blame that quirk a bit on my idealistic nature; I’d rather capture beauty than stack piles of junk that need sorting and removal before the –almost- crushed flowers growing beneath can be revealed again. Okay, so I like figurative language. Let me start again…

As I mentioned before, I wonder if I’ve given you more credit than you deserve, if I have thought about you so much that you have come to take a much bigger role in my mind than you ever did in my actual life. I can’t deny those studies that show excess discussion (even internal discussions such as over analyzing) polarizes your position on an issue. But to be blunt (which as big as an advocate of truth as I am, I am not always), I did; I still, and might always, consider you as having a key role in my identity formation. I mean you gave me the opportunity to express myself enough that I started to get to know who I –am- was. I’ve held a lot within me over the years, and I assume that plays a large part in my relatively recent habit of talking, explaining or just plain old rambling too much. Now, I’ve always misconceived myself—never picturing myself able to do or become half of what I am. Looking back, you gave me a friendship and an opportunity that represented everything I wanted than. It’s a strange concept to grasp, but you helped me to unleash some of my pent up wishes. For example, I was always quiet in classes without you and together we got yelled at for being uh, goofy. I never told anyone what was on my mind before; hell, I never let anyone see the depths of my creativity. Free associations, insights and inventions reveal a lot about their creator, which is why –even know- I often didn’t speak my mind. I refuse to show vulnerability to the world, even if it leaves me appearing cold. That truth makes up a good portion of my internal conflicts, but once again, I digress (this time into a more painful place.

Can’t you see I can’t write as well when I’m trying to face the past? I can’t write as snazzy as when I’m just rambling, which surprises me since I want to think conveying emotion should drive written works for the most part. I feel weak when I force myself to remember; I look down in shame—my eyes a dark, dark shade. The four years we were friends (and for that matter, the fifteen years that came before those years) carry intense emotion for me. Toward the end of last semester, I wondered if I could write myself a new past—an uneventful one where I was as happy as I was unassuming, a past that might seem to make sense with who I am now. Sometimes I think my attitudes took a complete turn, and other times, I know that I probably am incapable of real change. I know I think differently. I’m uncertain how to quantify “differently” though. If I was writing a story, I would never try to explain this change. I’d show it with “before and after” scenes (you know, show not tell). You know the “before” without me having to use such words as distant, disconnected, depressed or paranoid. I’d say you were the only person who really knew my darker side first hand then. It’s somewhat irrelevant now anyway since I pretty much have seamlessly combined those periods in my life into my identity. It’s not healthy to think of yourself as different people at different stages. I always have, but if you think about a skyscraper: it may be composed of many metal beams (and what not) and floors, but the builders weld them together to form one solid structure. I’m building on my past; maybe I did start in a hole, but I will reach the epic heights of the skyscraper in my metaphor. Or better yet. Do you remember that game from Challenge where the objective was to move a tiny ball from one side of the gym to the other with tubes cut in half without dropping the ball? If each tube was its own unit, the ball would never have reached its goal. Of course, using that metaphor adds the complication that we all have to run to the end of the line after our turn, but maybe that just suggests that our traits come in waves—we should never thrown a part of past into the closet thinking we will never need it again because it played its role. Now I think I am just writing for my own sake; actually; this entire letter is for my sake. Because you never cared as much as I did; you had no trouble forgetting. Actually, I shouldn’t make that claim. I don’t know how you feel, and I’m not sure I even care anymore. I must confess though I would like for you to recognize that I’ve changed, to be impressed by what I have become. Perhaps that validation is what I am waiting for before I can finally let go. I know in the past, I needed your words before I could act on my thoughts. I didn’t trust myself then—not my desires, my skills or my ability to convey my thoughts to the world. I acted so much bolder when I was with you because then it wasn’t just me facing everything by my –weird- self.

I could scrutinize over every interaction we ever had; I really could, if I had to the mental power to focus on writing long enough to transcribe that long a time. But I’m not going to. You know about the past. Sometimes I think my past is just a black hole waiting to suck me in, or I’m an eager swimmer waiting to dive into my past so I don’t have to face the future. Earlier today, I reasoned that I’m clinging to the past because I have been terrified of where I might be going in life. But it’s equally awful to hang in between, having grown but forsaken opportunities and convictions because doing so is easier than embracing them. The metaphor I devised to parallel this realization went like this: I started out stranded in a thick forest on an island. During high school or so I trekked out of the forest. I saw the shore as I entered college—even some days recently, I saw a glimpse of what lies beyond my island. I built a boat and made small voyages in the bay, exploring the shallow water. But if the weather became too scary, I could always paddle back to my hut on the beach where I would be safe. Running back threw a stick in my progress, but provided me with security. I’ve come to a place in my life now where I know the time to finally sail away from my beloved shore approaches. I’m sitting on the shoreline, the cold waves lapping against my feet as I contemplate. If it seems like I am idle, looks deceive because in my mind, I am steeling myself, gathering the necessary supplies for my journey in my heart and pruning my mind of useless, obsolete or negative thoughts. As I glance over the glistening water, I see my many dreams in my mind’s eyes. I really don’t have any idea where I’m going once I leave this island, but I’m going. Because if anything has grown stronger in my heart, my desire to express myself, to live to the most of my potential has.

This letter isn’t exactly like the one I saw myself writing. I’ll try addressing more concrete things now (no, I probably won’t since stopping myself from going into metaphors is wasting the potential of that thought process, and I hate wasting any potential so…). What would you like me to say? I know; I know. I should mention that certain incident last year. I have so many contradictory thoughts, explanations for my motives and regrets, but I think this one won: I don’t feel bad about anything I did because I wouldn’t have wanted to be friends with someone who made me not only lie but betray her trust and my principles anyway. Subconsciously, I would have stopped myself from acting so immature and cruel if I really cared about our relationship that much. Maybe. When I said I was trying to get you to see how much you were hurting me, I wasn’t lying. At that time, part of me really did want to see you again, wanted things to be like I imagined or wished they were. Actually, I don’t have an explanation. My lie is a blemish on my record of (at least trying) to be a good person and help people. If for no other reason, I wish it never happened so I didn’t have to think about it so much. I hate that I stained my hands with –metaphorical- blood. Had that not occurred, I could have walked away a lot more innocent. I could have blamed our failure on your lack on insincerity, you not valuing me as much as I valued you or your lies. Though in a healthier evaluation of the situation, I would admit my insecurities and misconceptions caused a lot of problems. You know that ever present fear of abandonment. And now my mind muddles. Here’s another theory: maybe I did want to hurt you, but since I’ve always considered myself such a wonderful person, I couldn’t bear the prospect that I would want to hurt anyone—let alone someone who once meant so much to me. I believe though that for the most part, you can only hate someone you once loved, someone who took something you cherished away from you. I don’t subscribe to that theory, and not just because I hate viewing myself in a negative light, but mainly because I trusted you so much that I would have had no trouble hurting you to your face if I really wanted. I’ve said a lot of mean, mistrusting things to you over the years—mostly thanks to my own defense mechanism—so I don’t think I would have suddenly decided I couldn’t tell you the truth. For me the best explanation is simply that I formulate a lot of ideas in my brain. Some might work, but other schemes need shooting down because they either hurt someone, have massive craters in their logic or don’t take into account reality. Convincing someone I was suicidal is exactly something I would do; in retrospect, I smirk at how much truth that last statement holds. I’m really good with words, I can act emotionless when I need to, those thoughts were sadly something I knew rather well and part of me likes to mess with people’s mind so I possessed all the ingredients so that distasteful disaster. I can never be sorry enough though; in my heart, I never intended to hurt you. I just didn’t want to lose you—even if losing you was what was meant to happen.

I didn’t stop talking to you because of that incident though. Hurting you actually gave me more reason to want to stick around. I might mess things up, but I will not lose my desire to make things right again. I just didn’t want to hear anymore lies, to care so deeply for someone who didn’t even want to see me. You made me feel pretty bad some of those nights. I was sitting in my room in tears talking to you, genuinely wishing I could help you. But you said you changed; I never got to check that one out for myself. Perhaps that’s a good thing for my sake, but I didn’t care about myself—not then at least. I would have done anything for you. I loved you, but it got to the point where I had to remove myself from the situation—for both our sakes. Don’t ever think it wasn’t painful though. I hurt every time something reminded me of you, with every sign that pointed out that you were so easily able to move on. Or maybe you just don’t have the tendency to bleed all over the place like I do…Or maybe I never really understood your feelings.

Let me say a few more things, what bothered me about your actions so to speak.
If I gave you the wrong message, I’m sorry. I’ve only recently come to understand that I do have very high expectations for myself and others. All the same, I care about people for who they are—not their successes, ambitions or anything else. I wouldn’t have stopped talking to you because you changed. If I say I care, I’ll care no matter what form you take. I would rather have that person around in any state of mind than lose them. There’s a certain beauty in a friendship that endures whatever either person has done or become that a relationship without any rocky ground can’t grasp.

Do I come off as selfish? I fear I have become more cold and selfish because I’m reluctant to let another person hurt me the way you did. Plus, I don’t want to waste any emotion on someone who is not worth my time.

I have learned a few things: I can’t change people or make them feel something they don’t. Friends are perfectly welcome to make their own choices. I guess now, I’m fine with that as long as I’m included in their plans, and those people who don’t aren’t worthy of me. But really, if I anything I need to accept people for who they are now. I’m writing this sentence a few weeks after the rest of this letter because irresolution on the part of this letter still haunted me. I understand this afternoon while in tears that I only trust people or for that matter, really love people I know will understand me. Examine all the people I’ve told you I like. Actually, just imagine Shion. I loved her because I could relate to her; I loved you because you came along and gave me something to believe in—someone like me who understood my pain. I don’t know what more needs saying; I’ve really seemed to have moved on for the most part but don’t ever think I’ll forget. I won’t; our past is a part of me. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

For a second, picture our sixteen year old selves talking—sitting on the swings maybe or typing at the crack of dawn. I wonder if “the universe” ordained we go our separate ways because no closeness, nothing could top our unity then. Remember us holding hands in the twilight, both sensing some magical feeling “that all wasn’t alright.” Those same feelings brought us together. Just remember every conversation we shared—all those ridiculously wonderful things we invented. And don’t say it doesn’t matter; every time we create, our thoughts shape the world, leave a vivid mark in our hearts, in the hearts of those who witness the beauty.

Since not us, our past selves can be together, roaming forever in some fantasy. There’s a magic I cannot recreate in my memories. I think about all I did, all I wrote and know so many of my accomplishments and creations came from my desire to have something to share with you. Now I work hard knowing that I have a gift I can share with the world—a certain way with words that makes me strangely powerful. You remember how I used to say I wanted to save the world? Well, I longer do. I’m no less idealistic or empathetic. On the contrary, since I stopped talking to you I’ve become so much more aware of the reality behind my idealism that it has honestly become the new norm for me. But I recognize now that I truly want to be a member of a humanity that works to save itself. I want to do my part to create a world where everyone loves and dreams the way I do; I want to see the human spirit unleashed. I don’t know why I’ll telling you these dreams of mine. Maybe I still trust our memories…

Regardless, know that despite any of my weaknesses, my jealousies, my pain, you meant so very much to me. I will never forget what we had, and I don’t want to forget either. I’d rather have the painful, unresolved wounds exposed then forsake so big a part of my life. Forget crossing oceans, without you, I never would have made it out of the forest, out of the tree I was hiding in. I don’t care if I sound sappy or even creepy. You were my best friend. I’m sorry I turned out to be the person I did, but I’m not going to regret anymore. I’m sorry I had to wreak so much havoc and give so many people the wrong idea. I’m sorry I hurt you because goodness knows, I’m sure you have –or at least had- as many things to say to me as I did to you. Now, trust me, those last lines weren’t an apology for who I am. I would never or should never do that. I’m just saying that I did change a lot, and you might not have seen that coming. And I know I have caused havoc; it’s just part of who I am.
On that night I lied to you, what I really wanted to say to you was that “no matter if we are together in real life or not, I will reach you. I’ll reach you because as long as I embrace that part of myself that you made shine, you will always be a part of me.” And trust me, it’s my creative, random, crazy and passionate side I cherish the most. Actually, it’s my idealistic side I cherish most too. But you saw that side of me as well so this realization matters. I won’t lose my way because I believe strongly in humanity, in you, in my own heart. I am a dreamer. Dreaming once saved my life; dreaming will save all our lives.

Think of the world you want to make real—the relationships, the solutions, the freedoms and anything else that matters to you as a person. It can be reality. You must set your eye on that dream and start walking toward. This letter is approximately the same length as a short story. Although, it tells my whole story, it’s a summary, and scenes compose good stories.

Message #2

I always compose my messages to you in other word processing places because I hate the scrolling problem Facebook's messaging system has...

This is another letter to a friend.

I honestly am so touched by your words, so touched that I'm not even sure I wanted to respond because, perhaps, anything I said now would sound so much less poetic. But, of course, that attitude undermines my point. Progress. Here's another glimpse into the workings of my mind: Is life a continuum or does it have distinct stages? An example with words would look this: doesthissentencerepresentlifeican'treallydecide or does this sentence work better. because it has punctation? (except that second fragment isn't a sentence....). I hate saying that distinct "chunks" compose our lives because that theory lends itself to creating disconnects. Like we can only know something is new because it is not the same as what we previously experienced. I dislike seperation like that because so much in life is mostly similar. Then where does the "sorting" end. Now our brains chunk and sort information, and I usually stick with the explanation that mirrors nature, but this time I'm not entirely sure...Oh another thing that challenges my love of analogies. A few nights I was watching this show about the beginning of the universe (at like 5am too), and some scientist dude presented an idea that universes come in cycles. After thinking about it for awhile, I freaked. You know why? Because capitalism comes in cycles too. So quantum pyshics supports capitalism?! I'm not sure I am okay with that. I'm not opposed to capitalism; I just don't like the idea that people are OKAY with the idea that people's lives will rise and fall with the economy. I want there to be a better way. I am certainly not an economist (or a quantum phsyicist for that matter. But I do seem to be a philosopher...)

I walked away half way through this message so now I don't remember my previous thought process. And now I'm tired. Praise scares me. But it sets expectations. I am terrifed of wasting potential. I'm not really that great. I aspire to be that great. Thoughts are one thing; turning our ideas into action is another.

But uh, I cut that paragraph from a letter I wrote to the girl I was best friends with in high school. I don't think she is ever going to read it, though, for two reasons. Because I don't really want her to think that I am still thinking about her, and because I don't want to waste my talent on her. I didn't start writing that letter to prove I changed. I got the idea from my other high school friend who told me that she too still had lingering feelings for Alex. She sent her a message about these unresolved issues, and that helped her so she advised me to do the same thing. I didn't exactly end up writing a letter to her. It was more to myself, which to me means two things. She is always with me, and it wasn't necesarly her I was cling to but the idea of her. You can read the whole letter. It's metaphorical in a few other places. I'm actually not completely finish. I wrote that two weeks ago, and I read the outcome to my other friend. Reading something aloud is kinda a big deal for me because I DON'T want people knowing my thoughts, seeing beyond the surface I can easily control.

Basically the point was I had to let go. I couldn't keep making myself feel bad. Let's say my past is a lemon. Okay so I could easily leave that lemon alone because no one needs lemons. But if you think about all the random recipes that call for a tad bit of lemon extract or zest for that added acid (like I was making apple pie on Sharon's birthday, and the recipe called for lemon juice. I mean I didn't add it, but the point remains...) For the sake of my metaphor, the point of the lemon will be add a little more dimension to life, to further refine the experience. Completely unnecesary though. The dilemna comes in because it's hard to ignore the lemon ( we tend to be nagged by things we can't have, right?), but touching the lemon burns our skin (acidic! and hyperbole...) The objective is to squeeze the juice from the lemon without the pain winning...that is to say, learn from the past without sucked in. In my life, I was at a point where I had squeezed all the juice but couldn't seem to send my skins to the compost pile. I'm not one to leave things unresolved.

Hah. I'm tired. Nonsensical fruit metaphors ftw! Which reminds me of the sign on the grocery store wall that read "vegetables," but featured the picture of a tomato =_= For the record, I am NOT loving on the sucky "if make hands you lemons..." cliche. I can debate the usefulness of that line if need be, but I'm not going to...

I can't really tell you if my "letter" worked. It's really easy to scheme up a new philosophy from the peace of your bedroom (or in my case, the front room with the air conditioner...expect I think I was in the bedroom, which makes this entire sentence useless!), but when you have to put that life philosophy into practice, you face the trials. I talk in second person, probably because I consider most people to have somewhat similar thoughts. I'll just show you. But first I gotta finish writing...

Oh and another reason I know I changed: I came to understand that Simone Simons (she's the singer from Epica who I was totally infatuated with...lmao.) cannot be my hero. Her materialistic tendences contradicted far too much with Epica's message. It created too much dissonance for me. I can't change that I idolize people, but my idol should represent at least a large percent of what I would like to be. To me, who I idolize is a big deal.

I know I'm strange. But I've put a lot of struggle into being this strange, and for that reason, I enjoy it.

Almost Too...

Excited for the future! Almost so excited that I"m starting to get extremely anxious and not know what to do with myself.

I mean I've been having a lot of fun lately...Things seem to be slightly looking up again. Not that ever weren't--just I was bogged down by thoughts that I was wasting my life and thoughts about Alex and Sarah....So, yeah. I guess now I'm beginning to let go.

I've always found hope in idealism. Thus the the desire to "save the world." Which is why I'm so dang excited about the opportunity to go to Cali for a weekend for FeelGood. A whole weekend in Cali with other people who think like me! So inspiring!!!

Speaking of inspiring, I have a new hero. (well, sorta Sharon will always be my unspoken favorite. For me, Sharon's the paramount of everything that I good in the world. Unrealistic? Of course, but who cares, you know!) But for awhile, earlier this year, I was totally comparing myself to Simone, thinkingI wasn't as good as person because I wasn't as accomplished. Really bad idea, btw. First of all, none of my desires even have anything to do with Simone's. I don't want to sing. So why compare?

With that said, Simone really can't be my idol since you know, what do I really have to learn from her? Okay, so we have something to learn from everyone, but as I grow, I think...Oi, I found something more interesting than my silly rants.

Insightful Much?

This post is basically a continuation of the previous one except that it really isn't directed at my friend since I'm not sure if she would understand some of what I'm going to say.

But I've been thinking a lot (okay, what else is new...*eyeroll*) about why I've become so anxious this past five or so months. The obvious answer is change. A shift in the people I talk to regurarly. Moving. Some other personal drama coming to a close. But all these things were positive for the most part, I think, so by themselves they shouldn't induce this much anxiety.

So my working explaination is the lack of anxiety makes me anxious. That is to say I have come to know 'drama' so well that when they is no drama I still get upset because I feel like something is missing. I think I'm scared of freedom, sacred that I will make the wrong choice without someone directing me at most steps.

I'm wary of my own voice. I'm afraid to hear what I have to say, afraid I might be right and afraid I might just sound stupid. I've done things in the past years that I never imagined I would, and it is so difficult for me to shift my perception of myself.

I have some very contrasting ideas about myself: Part of me thinks I am insane. The other part thinks I am great! I have these incredibly high exceptations for myself. Possibley because I dreamed up a wonderful person as an escape method when I was really,desperately in need of an escape when I was growing up. Or maybe because I know I have never really put my all into anything, and I can do so much better than I ever have.

I think I've always sagotaged myself because I have been afraid of success, because I don't want to deal with what comes with that success. It's like not opening a door because you know the wind beyond the lock will blow you off your feet.

Oi. Eyes are drying up. Time to turn AC on and try to sleep on the couch...

Just something.

I'm actually not composing this message in Facebook's message box because the cursor is unbearable awful once you type a certain amount. That info is all but useless, btw.

It's been my intention to write you a full-fledged message since like the second week of summer. But, of course, this info is useless too since actions are much more important than intentions. But now, I'm acting on some of my clarity. Or something like that.

I have two constrasting theories about how people realize what they are meant to be doing (well, I'm sure I can come up with more, but these two ideas are what are on my mind most right now.)

1. The Electric Maze Theory: Basically, I just walk through life making decisions spur of the moment, and I only know I'm on the right path because I finally don't face as much resistance. If I make a wrong turn, I hit the wall, and get shocked so I know I need to try something different. If you think about the dynamics of a blind-folded person walking through a maze, you can understand how this more-or-less trial or error method of getting through life. With enough persistence, you can make it to the end of the maze to your goal. In psychological terms, this method would be called a algorithum. But doesn't that just sound so mechanical?

2. The Rock Wall Theory: Imagine climbing up a step cliff in the fog. The little holes where you can grab on to or stick your foot are the insights we gain in life. That is to say, we often do not know where we are going until we get very close to that moment, and then it justs hits us. Or well, even if there wasn't the fog, you can plan out your route, but you still have to pull yourself up and keep hanging on. Someone who influenced me in highschool once told me "not to quit on myself. All I needed to do was to stand up, and I could reach the next hold" (PE teacher on climbing rock walls). I acutally just mentioned fog because lately my mind has been muddled between regret, anxiety and fear for the furure. But let's leave this analogy like this: life is like (we'll make it a simile since a metaphor might be a tad too strong for the occasion)a climbing wall. It's a steep climb to the top, but they're are people -who you have to trust- to catch you. You can plan your path, but sometimes you'll need a detour, or you'll slip. A lot comes down to trust. Trusting yourself to reach that next stage, trusting those around you to support you and trusting the system not to up and collaspe.

And I don't remember where I was going with these analogies. But they do tie into this next idea: Remember when I told you I wanted to try writing a novel over summer? Well, I have been unable to write fiction. Yeah, I can reflect upon things just fine, but I can't focus my thoughts enough to create the scenes needed for fiction. What's bugging me is that my goals seem to have completely shifted since I left school in May. The one thing I've always known I wanted to do was to do something great, which is such a vague thing. I have no clue what I want to do. No clue.

So I'm thinking instead of making plans and trying to force myself to stick to them, I work better when I am open minded about my actions and do what I feel I should be doing at that moment in time. And I'll find the answer that way. Since I love analogies so much: It's going through life with a set mold, and you can't predict or try to force your experiences into that mold. Ugh, I can't articulate this one as well. Sorry. In my mind, I'm imagining some plastic mold that I'm trying to fill, but the pieces I keep finding don't fit.

You know, I really scare myself when I get all insightful because my whole life, I have never taken myself seriously. I have always put myself down and figured things would never work out for me. Now I know I am better than that, know I will find my way. But regardless, I think my change in attitude is also the cause of my anxiety, which is definitely a paradox. Let's call me a tug boat (or some other waterfaring vessel that clung to the shore) that know understands that I need to cross the ocean. Culture shock.

Since I plan on "going places," I've decided I need to okay with change. I wrote this last night: "I will no longer be sad about the things I've lost, the people who no longer walk beside me. I will only mourn the progress I haven't made. When I look at my life, I know this place I am now is not where I want to be. I can't take everything and everyone with me so it is natural that something will have to take their rightful place in my past. I am moving forward, becoming -slowly- the person I am meant to be. I cannot imagine what lies around the bend, but I'm going their. I'll keep moving forward, chasing that ellusive meaning I know I must."

This message might already be too long for FB. If so, I'll give you this link.

Loss.

I will no longer be sad about the things I've lost, the people who no longer walk beside me. I will only mourn the progress I haven't made. When I look at my life, I know this place I am now is not where I want to be. I can't take everything and everyone with me so it is natural that something will have to take their rightful place in my past. I am moving forward, becoming -slowly- the person I am meant to be. I cannot imagine what lies around the bend, but I'm going their. I'll keep moving forward, chasing that ellusive meaning I know I must.

You and I will always be together. In our pasts, in our story- the same story that got me started as a writer.

Not a Cactus.

My status has been "Amy is inside-out! Imagine I'm a cactus and my needles are my thoughts. So if you turn a cactus inside-out, all its needles are stabbing its flesh. That's how I feel. I need to use my "needles..." Metaphor Fail"

I'm going to say this theory doesn't properly describe my emotional state. I'm actually going with the "Drug Addict Theory."

Now before anyone goes and freaks because I'm on drugs, I'm not on drugs. Just legal ones. But the idea behind a drug addict is that they are constantly searching for the next high. And each time they "get high" they need more of the drug to attain that emotional gratification. The mechanics lies in that the body prodcues less of its anti-pain chemical when it sense the fake stuff so as you use more, you need more.

But in my case, I am constantly looking for the thing that will provide me with a deep, meaningful connection. That's why I've trouble listening to a song all the way through! I'm not finding that emotional high (which isn't really a high...more like a longing...). I keep wanting to hear that perfect song that will sum up my emotions (like Safeguard to Paradise did, Utopia did, Hotel Paper did, Pale did), but I'm not finding it so I don't want to listen to anything.

I can't write until I regain that "longing." I usually get that feeling from writing or at least thinking about writing...but also from observing...think the "fountain observation." I'm trying to remember now...

Oh but I still didn't answer why I'm addict. Probably because I have such -wonderfully- high expectations for myself. Everytime, I create something, I want the next thing to be better. Every time I feel, I want the next thing to be strong or else I'm a failure. Now I'm going to summon the rollarcoaster analogy...except I think they're numerous rollarcoaster metaphors...one is kinda original...one is cliche. Like life comes with ups and downs...like the bumps on a rollarcoaster!

On My Mind.

Everything that plagues my mind right now. In no praticular order or explanation.

Why do I feel compelled to listen to Green Day and Evanescence, music that I starting liking about five years ago?

Why can't I write? I have all these contradicting thoughts on my mind. It should be perfect for endless creation.

No. I'm running from something. I'm not seeing the full picture.

I imagine myself running through an electrical maze -blind maybe or at least, stupid so every turn looks exactly the same. I charge in one direction until I hit the wall and get shocked. Withering in pain, I find a new direction. I bounced off walls, hurting and blinded by my rage. I only know where I'm going in life because all other directions cause hurt. I'm not chosing my path; I'm simply avoiding the pain, taking the road of least resistance.

I remember I used to lie in bed at night and listen to much. Truly feel the music.

I need to climb a mountain, but the only rope strong enough to survive the weight and rubbing is locked away.

I need to slay a demon, but I don't have the necesary weapon.

I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE IMAGE IN THIS PUZZLE IS SUPPOSED TO BE BECAUSE ALL THE CRUCIAL PIECES ARE MISSING.

Today I burnt my the bottom of my hair because I let it touch the hot BBQ while I was turning off the propane tank. I also ripped two of my favorite t-shirts because I didn't realize the laundry basket had a hole in it, and I was dragging it along the pavement.

Oh remember how I went through that phrase were I felt bad because I wasn't "as good" as Simone? Yeah..Oh I'm not even going to type this confession out because it is so ridiculous.

Innocence.

Hmmm. I remember standing in my old kitchen thinking "I'm glad I live in the time period I do. There aren't any wars or anything scary." Tnat was before 9/11, before I knew anything about current events...We've been locked into what seems like endless wars since I was in grade school. Most people just don't think about the wars on a daily basis though unless war touches your life- not like with WWII were propaganda and homefront efforts had to be everywhere.

Of course, I was a very young in this scene I remember. Clinton was definitely still president. It's crap that I had to grow up with the shitty president ever in office. I was in college by the time we were free from that shit.

According to the Mayan Calender, the world is going to end at the end of 2012. Looking around, I sort of believe it. It seems suddenly there are earthquakes, hurricanes and other natural disasters occuring much more frequently. And people making bad decisions...yes, I'm looking at you, BP, with your ZERO dollars spent on oil clean-up research. Don't think I'm not scared of my own mortality, the fragility of all human life.

I know it's my natural inclination to believe people are good, that the world is a beautiful place, but through-out my life I've always been border-line paranoid- maybe because I lost all sense of security due to "family" issues as a child or maybe I'm just a very sensitive person.

There was a period during junior high when I was afraid to sleep at night because I was convinced there was going to a nuclear attack.

I remember visiting the memorial in OK City for the bombing of the Government Building. I was maybe ten. That was tramatizing. I couldn't comprehend such violence, such death and destruction. I couldn't get that image out of my head for a very long time.

My family also visited every nuclear war musuem we could...even visited an old missile silo. More trauma. I remember seeing a recreated bomb shelter with its rusted canned goods and scary equipment. Couldn't sleep for awhile after that trip either.

Moral of the story: Don't take small, overly sensitive children to traumatizing historical sites. No, I'm very glad I'm not ignorant. I don't always feel safe, and I do have my lingering paranoias (if anyone remembers how I wasn't going to fly). Considering all the places I've been, all I've been exposed to, I should be a lot more intelligent than I am. I should know more, but honestly, until very recently, I didn't really care. I was apathetic (okay, okay, I was a child).

Sometimes, I wish I could relive my life and make better choices. Start devoting all my efforts to being smart from a much earlier age, care more about school...Since those things were never what I was as a child. I was into fairy tales (think Final Fantasy). I sought comfort in fantasy. I've always fled into a fantasy world, whether it be an obsession such as television or video games or my own thoughts.
Let's quote my once favorite song. "I know well what lies beyond my sleeping refuge/ The nightmare I built my own world to escape." Now I have to pause Utopia to listen to Imaginary. As much as I want to deny it, this song still describes me. I avoid Evanescence like the plague...yet today at the gym, I paused my ipod when "My Immortal" came on the radio. Too many emotions. Imaginary. Hello. My Immortal. Four years ago. Sometimes, I forget that before WT empowered me, she saved my life. When I think about what Sin told my parents about me "Amy should have worked with others; she was holding her back." I want to tell Sin the truth...that I couldn't have survived alone at that point in my life. I can now. Incidentally, now I'm also an English major.

I avoid everything that I was in my past like video games because I need to think that stuff is all immature, and I am grown-up now, but honestly, my past is a part of me. The words I wanted to tell her that night were "I'll Reach You." Because the part of me you created will always be with me. I often wonder if you remember our inside jokes, what you tell people. I shouldn't still think of you, but I do. Because I'm an overly sensitive person. And you "saved" me. I will never forget even if the memory also remind me of my own failure and weaknesses.

69 strikes again! I'm a combination of reality and fantasy.

Words...

I'd write and write, but I'm ashamed of the words I would type. I'm afraid to see these sentences take form, the sentences that come from my own heart.

I'm ashamed of my own life- my interests, my beliefs, my dreams, my choices. I'm scared to anything because of this shame...especially scared to tell anyone what I'm doing.

In other news, 1200 birds have died. Day 70 of the OIL DISASTER.

And my ps2 doesn't work anymore. I guess, I wrecked it trying to force it play European DVDS. Hell, I just wanted to see if WT looked any different on a HD TV.

My shoulder looks like a Polish flag because I was outside during the peak hours of the sun yesterday. It was raining when I left so I was worried about an umbrella instead of sunblock.

I wonder if other people think as much as I do...I mean do they have as many different thoughts cross their mind that they find necesarry to record. Like I'm the idiot who sits around all day writing their entire lives down.

Why is my life important? Important to me? If it's just like everyone else's...I mean I want to just devote my life to doing greater good...I don't care about me until I notice how everyone else is better than me...How I really am nothing.

Committment?

Perhaps of all the things I've been accusing myself of fearing lately, the biggest culprit is committment. That is to say I'm afraid of being stuck on a single path with no other options and having to face the reality of the decision. Seeing it through so to speak. I've always thought "what if something better comes along..." Then I end up with nothing. It's depressing.

Like at this very moment in time I'm completely unsure if I should take this GRE Prep Class in July. Because yes, it is a little early, maybe...But it's the only time I have. No way would taking it during the fall semester be a good idea since I'm working two nights a week and have a full class schedule at right now at least two activity committments...so bad idea. And after that I'll be in Norway until I need to apply to Grad school. Oh god. No wonder my stomach constantly hurts...I want to talk to my friend about this decision...talk to her the way we do during the semester. All those epic conversation we had...Oh, do I really miss my school friends.

Then there's my complete and total inability to write. It's a disaster! Actually, it's a mess...I'm saving the word disaster for the OIL DISASTER. Oi. Maybe I'm just trying to write the wrong thing...Or maybe I don't want to draw myself into a big epic adventure...Same with why I feel like playing a handheld game is less of a committment than playing a console game. And the internet is the least committment of all. Also biggest waste of time in some cases...when I'm just checking the same sights over and over and honestly, nothing has changed at all. Briliant.

Then there was my fear of creating a resume or going on a trip. Maybe I'm terrified of what others will say, that I won't be good enough, that'll I'll see the truth. My reluctance to work...my reluctance to do anything but watch television. Oh walrus, this is a disaster! Walrus<3 *sigh*

I chastise others for passivity, but I'm the same. I'm mostly talk. I mean I'll always be mostly talk because I want to be a writer. But in that case, I need to scream, need to have others hear my voice.

Hell on the subject of committment, I've scared to even call someone my "best friend." Because that's placing a lot of emotion on a single person, a single person who might not care as much. Like she didn't. Way to fuck me over, Alex, really. It takes a lot of apathy to hurt someone like me, someone who was already so damn fragile. Even if the hurt me caused each other was already equal (which it isn't...) you would have been worse for the simple reason that you hurt someone who was well, YOU of all people knew what comes next. So thank you.

I have to slash down the indecision and do something. Whatever that something is...

Simple.

So I have been calling myself an intellectual (that is to say I love learning, reading, thinking, understanding, observing, listening and such...yeah, Sin I guess I am a quiet nerd and do live in my own little world) and I think I am on to something with it. It explains why I am so much better at THINKING than ACTING. I swear with all the thoughts and ideas I've devised, I could have done so much if I acted on everything. But I did. I never have, and I've blamed it on fear of showing off who I am, fear of not being good enough. Whatever. I've said in the past that "we won't do something until we are ready." How come I have never been ready?

As I sit here enjoying my summer, by uh, doing nothing, I begin to understand something about myself...That I am an overly simple people. Simple in my infitie complexities. But that is another story. This story is about how I would be happy simply watching television, simply sitting in the sun enjoying the beauty of the world. Until I noticed dusk in the summer, the setting sun on Lake Michigan, I forgot those simple joys...I've often wondered what my dream is truly, and deep within my heart I know this to be true: My dream is to find a "soulmate" who will always be by my side, and live someplace remote with that person...so everyday it is me and them lying on the beach, joking, being in love. I just want to be happy. That's what I said so long ago...I am not a fighter. At all. I'm not aggresive, not as a driver, not as a person. I fought to remain "alive" my whole childhood, and I don't want that life anymore. I think this desire for peace is the only reason I ever want school to end. I don't like doing anything. I enjoy exploring my own thoughts. At school, it's like an act. I'm funny, busy, important, whatever. I have all these lofty "goals in life." But those goals aren't me. Yes, they represent my beliefs...

Or maybe I'm "just not ready yet..." maybe I'm gathering the pieces from all my random obsessions and regrouping...slowly preparing for the war I want to wage.

Yesterday.

Also known as the next adventure in a week that stimulated me far more than I wanted...or not. I said earlier that I do love summer, and what is summer for if not doing stuff.

But honestly, yesterday was sort of an interesting day. In the good news: I got to go Downtown (yes, again) to the Taste of Chicago. Bad News: It's a long story...

That goes something like this: My mother was going into the city to meet in person a guy she had been talking to on the phone from an online dating site. I did push her to meet him. I don't know why. Maybe because I want to see her with someone because after learning that she had two failed marriages, I want her to be happy. Was it a good idea? Perhaps...Shows she has some self-confidence. Well, within five minutes my mother storms away from the guy because he said something along the lines of "you're a disappointment/ not what I expected" (whatever jerks say). Kathy and I left when she first met him and went to get pizza from the Taste, and we barely started eating when she begged us to return.

I don't get it. It just palin, old makes me very sad. I don't think my mother is unattractive at all. And for the most part, I think she has a good personality. Yes, she was more insecurities than me. But she didn't deserve this "rejection." Now she is going to use this experience as an excuse to think badly about herself again, to run back to the people she has unhealthy relationships with (think sister and a friend). Meanwhile, I'm begging my mother to stop digging herself into a futile hole and use this time to do something to improve hersself...join a fuckin' bookclub or a grassroots political instead...I was just too upset to string thoughts to together very well. movement (*cough*socialist*cough*) No. I'm not sure if I'm even do that, and lately, socialism has seemed pretty damn appealing.

I actually don't think I wrote about Tuesday when she told me about "that." I wrote to my friend about it...I was just so upset. What point was I trying to make here? Argh, I don't recall...mhm. I should create a post about Swedish Days.

What I really don't get is this idea of 'phsyical attraction." Dang, I must truly be an intellectual, but I don't think like that. I just imagine relationships as the conversations you can have with that person. When I look at myself, I see someone who is not pretty. I have never considered myself pretty- not when I used to wear baggy clothes, because my face is too big and pimply, not now...even when sometimes, I think I might be cute. I wonder who will want to be with me...This "me" who doesn't fit in anywhere. I was talking to Kathy about how I thought I never quite fit in with my highschool friends, and you know, she said she felt the same way. Like she was imposing upon "our" group. What a silly word group is...I was clinging to Alex because I needed her to help me find "myself." Alex always like everyone else more than me (I'm probably wrong about that...) And well, shit, I don't care. This post was not about them.

Anyway, the Taste was fun. I hadn't been there since I was a small child, and Kathy hadn't been there at all. I got to eat pizza and ice cream, which is utopia to me pretty much. Even had enough credits to get pizza for this morning. So this weekend, I ate little else but pizza and ice cream. Amazing.

The Beach.

This afternoon I went to the beach at the Indiana Dunes!

Now I have a lot of memories involving this beach ranging from the first time I went there with my family and Kathy, when I didn't even know there was a beach there. I thought it was just dunes of sand. But hell was I happy when I saw water. I went swimming in my mesh shorts and black t-shirt. Then later that summer (three years ago), I went back with the intention of swimming. That was the great "Amy almost got sent to a jail in Indiana for arguing with a lifeguard incident" See they kick you out of the water at 6pm, but I refused to get out so I was like "dude I don't think you own this water so you can't kick me out!" Plus, I wanted swim out to the boyee, but they went on the PA and said "if you find yourself swimming out to a boyee, please come back...Of course, I didn't listen and quite swimming until I saw a boat come at me. When I got out of the water, I had the spat with the lifegaurd. Little did I know, all I had to do was wait for the staff to leave and then I could go back into the water further along the shore...Ahhh, to be 17 again. My friend also found a random on that trip to the beach. Though I might add that. Oh and when I was picking my friends up for the trip, the car I was driving tried to kill me. It stalled during a left turn. Yay! I crashed into a pile of branches. Good times.

The next time I went to the Dunes (actually a different part of the lakeshore but same idea) was the best field trip ever. Fall senior year...AP Environmental Science field trip. We went to a bog and the Dunes. I got to carry the stick at the bog. Trust me, carrying a giant wooden stick was amongst my top dreams when I was 17! Plus we rolled down the sand dunes and took a video...I wonder if I have the pictures on my other computer...Couldn't swim then, but I didn't care. That day was great...it must have been if I still remember it. I loved that class, the teacher and that two of my -then, if the case of her- best friends were there.

But hell, I'm talking about happy times here and honestly, I'm trying to talk about today...But last summer, the best day was that BEAUTIFUL SUNDAY at the Dunes<3 Sand Cheetos! Heh.

Moving on, so today we left at around 4pm, which is not a good idea when you have over an hour drive...in rush hour =_= But that's just how I roll. Plus I had to buy a new swimsuit and Kathy had work until 2:30...So we were all psyched to be driving on the expressway with the windows rolled down and listening to Rise Against. Then by a tollbooth, we hit a traffic jam...I really need an ipass because I'm always paying ridiculously high tolls...(trolls...that sit under bridges and demand tolls...)That only minorly burst my bubble...cuz then we got to Indiana...where we certainly didn't buy any fireworks <.< >.> Nope. Not in the least.

Then I decided that I wasn't going to buy gas quite yet since my warning light wasn't on. I was hoping my could make it to tnhe beach, but I mean I didn't know it was as far as it was...So we had to get off the extremely crowded road a second time. I was yelled at for not being more aggressive at the gas station! Huzzah! I'm just not about to fight with someone over who goes first.

I feel like a damn hypocrite driving a car. I hate oil companies and oil dependence...yet here I am driving a car that runs on a lot of gas. I don't know if I mentioned this previously, but a few days ago (now more like a week) I was thinking about how I wanted my own car (for freedom purposes...)...then I realized taht millions of other people who share that same desire with me is the reason oil is spewing into the Gulf right now. Looks like I don't love the pelicans as much as I say...

I also took the opportunity while we were getting gas to explain that I am not necesarily boycotting BP. OH NO, NOW I'M REALLY A HYPOCRITE! *runz in circles* Confession: My father has work because BP goes to IBM for it's -whatever he does needs-. So yeah, my family has money -rather indirectly- because of BP's existence. I'M SO SORRY, MR. PELICAN! I HATE MY FATHER TOO!!! I SWEAR. But honestly, as much as I hate BP for killing things, lying about killing things, not caring caring that things got killed and the works, I'm also mad at the government for not regulating the stupid companies. I expect big business to WANT MONEY, but I believed in the Democrats in office. I really did. I say once again: I am soooo upset about this oil disaster. So, so, sooooo distraught. It's mind boggling. I so wish it wasn't true...When interrogated by Congress (at the same time, as the incident where the senator apologized to BP, which is just LMAO...*JUMPS OUT WINDOW*) it was the CEO of another oild company that admitted none of them have any plan for fixing what they fucked up. Oh, they never imagined a pipe could burst...Or if they did, they decided they'd cross that bridge when they got there...Well, fuck we slammed into the bridge and now its burning into ashes and all the oil is killing things! It's awful. Fuckin' awful. I could rant for hours about how upset I am. HOURS. UPSET. ME. GRRRR. Which is why I've taken solice in watching MSNBC lately. Because they actually care. And the other people watching care. And perhaps enough people care...*cries*

I think I need to huggle my sheep plushie. Or my kiwi<3 Simone den Kiwi. Oh how much you mean to me...

Where was I. Oh, it's the government, the people's fault for continuing our dependence on oil. It needs to end. Enough people have died. Enough "caribbean walruses have died."

But just like apparently the people living in the developing countries who big corporations employ for atrosously low wages are apparently "lesser" than -us...whoever the fuck -us- is...so are the "caribbean walruses." Like hello, you're fuckin' HURTING PEOPLE, HURTING OUR WORLD, HURTING INNOCENT LIFE THAT HAS ONLY HELPED US. WHY? SO YOU CAN MAKE MONEY? WHO THE FUCK CARES IF YOU HAVE MONEY? ENJOYING THE BEACH AND LOVING ALL THE AWKWARDLY ADORABLE SPECIES OF BIRDS AROUND IS WORTH MORE THAN MONEY. BUT NO, YOU TOOK THAT AWAY FROM PEOPLE.

I WAS STANDING ON THE BEACH AT THE DUNES TODAY THINKING ABOUT WHAT I WOULD FEEL LIKE IF THE SAND IN FRONT OF ME WAS COVERED IN OIL. I WAS AFRAID TO SEE SAND AND WATER, AFRAID I WOULD CRY THINKING ABOUT THE HEINOUS HELL THAT IS -WAS- SOME OF OUR MOST WONDERFUL SHORELINE. I LOVE THE FUCKIN' BEACH. EVERYONE LOVES THE BEACH. PEOPLE LOVE THE OCEAN FOR REASONS OTHER THAN DIGGING FOR OIL. BUT NOW THAT ENDS...ENDS WITH THE LIVES OF THE PELICANS...THERE AREN'T FUCKIN' WALRUSES IN THE GULF. I WISH THERE WERE SO THEY'D SWIM OVER TO YOUR CORPORATE BOAT AND STAB YOU. NATURE STRICKS BACK. BUT ONCE AGAIN, IT WAS OUR GOV. THAT ALLOWED YOU TO DRILL WITHOUT READING ABOUT THE WALRUSES. IT WOULD BE FUNNY IF IT WASN'T A TRAGEDY. NOOO, NO. NOT EVEN A TRAGEDY. UNREAL. IT'S UNREAL. IT'S A NIGHTMARE.

The Alantic Ocean was never my favorite ocean (yeah, I'm so nutty I have a favorite ocean...), but it's a fuckin' ocean. Those oceans are the reason we are here. BEING GREEDY. KILLING. HATING. DRVING OUR FUCKIN' CARS WITHOUT A FUCKIN' CLUE. I'll never forget how while I was flying out of NY last fall, I saw the sun glisten in a cone-shape on the river...I think I saw the ocean...but regardless, there is nothing more beautiful than water sparkling...

I was standing on the dunes earlier talking to Kathy watching the imperfect surface of Lake Michigan...Just admiring that as the water got close to shore it looked less squished together and more spread out...-insert some kewl metaphor about wavelength here, but I'm not going to because I'm too pissed to think in metaphors...I'm living in realiy right now- How some patches of water as a lighter blue and occasionally, a fish jumps up. How the trees along the dunes are all different shades of green, how a few trees randomly had a few red leaves even in summer. Don't you think any of this isn't even the slightest bit miraculous? WHAT ABOUT SAND? ALL THSOE GRANUALS DIDN'T GET THERE OVER NIGHT! IT TOOK TIME. IT TOOK TIME FOR THOSE TREES TO GROW. FOR THE -insert name of plant that grows in the first stage of succession...learned about that in environmental science class, heh- to work it's magic. AND HERE WE COME ALONG AND RUIN NATURE'S HARMONY. WHAT GIVES US THAT RIGHT? CUZ WE CAN? WELL, WE ALL CAN DO A LOT OF THINGS RIGHT NOW. BUT WE DON'T. WHY? BECAUSE IT IS WRONG. WRONG. WRONG TO RUIN THINGS, TO KILL. WE ALL KNOW THAT.

AS I TYPE THIS OIL IS SPEWING, A TROPICAL DEPRESSION IS HEADING TOWARD THE GULF, BIRDS ARE DYING. I know there are other species out there, but I'm a self-professed bird-a-holic. Walruses are my second favorite. Except I only adore the real kind...not the imaginary, we're too cheap to change our impact statement kind.

Ahhh, Forsaken. Good ole Within Temptation.

The world can exist without us; we cannot exist without the world. One day, the world will forsake us if we aren't kinder to it.

*sigh* Like I said earlier, I can rant all night about this...But what would it solve? NOTHING. THOUGHTS, WISHES, PROMISES, PLANS DON'T MEAN ANYTHING UNLESS WE ACT ON THEM. I WANT TO START A FUCKIN' RIOT RIGHT NOW. GET PEOPLE PISSED OFF. PEOPLE SHOULD BE PISSED OFF.

Yeah, I still love you, humanity. But I am extremely enraged right now...

Miyavi

Anyway, last night I went to concert with my friend! (in case you didn't know that from when I answered the question "what do you have to do tomorrow" with "Go to a concert.") The show was Miyavi who, for lack of a better description on my part, is a rocking Japanese guitar guy. I'll provide you with a WIKI link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Miyavi

So my friend was like "I'm excited," and I was like "Yeah, I'm excited too!" SO WE LEAVE AT LIKE 3PM FOR A SHOW THAT STARTS AT 7:30PM. Yippppeee! I love lines. So we're all excited driving into the city. For the life of me, I will never understand why you hit rush hour going into the city at 3:30ish? Isn't everyone trying to get home to the suburbs? That's what I always thought, but I have a lot of funny misconceptions...I love driving on expressways with the windows down. It's like uplifting. Yip.

Being the brilliant people were are, we printed out (more like wrote out) directions to this parking garage near House of Blues (the garage is a great deal- 8 dollars for the evening in the city. I use it for all my HOB parking needs). Incidentally, knowing where you are going takes the fun out of going places cuz then you don't get lost in the bottom level of Wacker Drive and have to ask a homeless man directions (it's happened, okay). Getting to HOB was actually quite uneventful. Shame.

Another thing I've always wondered about: why the heck was there a line already like three hours ahead of time? Okay, don't answer that since I know the answer. It's just sorta funny, but not as funny as the people who have been camped out in Hollywood since Sunday waiting for the release party of Eclipse. You'd think with all the stars in LA, there would be plenty of ADDICTIONS counselors around...Okay, that wasn't very nice. Especially since I have no right to judge people for being fans. Even though, contrary to popular belief, I am not a fan. I am a Finn. Hah hah hah.

First hour or so waiting in line was uneventful. Had a nice chat with some "line friends." (quotes because Kathy used the word before me). Then people starting talking about how it was going to rain. I was "yeah, right! that only happens in the movies." Then it starts to drizzle. I'm fine at this point because I am short enough to stand under the sign on the building, which protected me from water early on. I was watching people standing under an umbrella happy under my sign. Then it got windy. And I was getting wet. So Kathy and I huddle under the umbrella of the people behind us. My left shoulder still got wet...and *la gasp* my hair got messed up. and my shoes. I think those poor converse are still wet...But that's not the best part even: I heard rumor that there was TORNADO WARNING!!!! YIPEEEEEEE!!!! Apparently there was a tornado in the western suburbs. That's what I heard at the time. I don't watch the local news...only cable news channels. So I think people freak out. LIKE OMG, A TORNADO IS GOING TO COME WHOOOSHING THROUGH DOWNTOWN CHICAGO AND SPEFICIALLY HIT THE HOUSE OF BLUES!!! YEAH!!!

It could happen.

On Mega-Disasters it happens. When A Super Tornado Hits DownTown Chicago. It was a show on the History Channel a long time ago...Not as depressing as What Happens after Humans, but not as entertaining as...I don't know...something that is really funy. Incidentally the producers of that series didn't like Illinois very much since there was an episode about the faultline near New Madrid and the tornado in downtown...we all died twice in that series...wait, three times cuz thanks to the meteor, everyone died. I think there was also an earthquake in LA cuz I remember the computer footage of the city being destroyed. How...uh...nice? *headdesk*

On the subject of conspriary theories, did anyone else hear that the meteor that caused the climate change that killed the dinos hit in the Gulf of Mexico? Sound familiar? If you didn't want that epi of Mega Disasters you might not have heard that...

The next episode of Mega Disasters was going to be "Mega Disasters: Explosion in an off-shore oil drilling rig" But it got cancelled because the oil indsutry funds the show, and they didn't want the bad publicity. Cuz I'm pretty sure at least one idiot called the Oil Disaster a "natural" disaster...about as natural as this: humans came from nature, and THEY caused it. Oh wait, BP never told us what actually happened...

Okay, I'm going to stop ranting about how truly pissed off I am about this whole incident. Going to leave this here though. It's the Gulf from space... http://bit.ly/aHZFU0

What was I talking about again? Oh yeah. A giant tornado was barreling down on the HOB. I don't know if that ever happened since the guard people finally let us in. Because it took them THAT LONG to clear out the empty hallway and auditorium...uh huh. So we go inside, and we're waiting on the stairs while they are finishing the sound check. Someone around me said they saw Miyavi but you know, I'm too short...I don't think we waited there THAT long...

The real wait came in once we were standing in front of the stage. It was over two hours. One of my least favorite things in life is waiting for bands to play. My feet hurt. And there is only so much conversation to have with the people around you...though let me say this about the crowd: I was impressed by the variety of people there. And the sheer size of the crowd. Lots of people. We were in the center behind like five or so heads...no one toooo tall was in front of me so I could see for the most part. I was kinda hoping he'd come on at 8:30 but hell, no such luck. I figured it was a scam? Like why the hell would anyone from Japan want to come to Chicago...seems less likely than the tornado. At one point, I was going to sit down right there. I have down that while waiting before...but the place wasn't as crowded then. Sadly no Finnish people were invovled, I didn't get to say my favorite line for concerts..."Bring out the Finn."

I don't get why any performer would want to start a show so late. I'd want to do it earlier...get it over with so I can sleep and not have to worry. But we figured he was playing Facebook game backstage...actually he was standing behind an amp the whole time laughing at the fans waiiting for hours...(not really).

A little after 9, Miyavi did come on though. And omg, seeing everyone go nuts was totally worth the wait. Dude, people can scream! I was impressed by the fan-age. I was like 'uh crazy people..." But no, don't get me wrong, Miyavi is kewl. He's got some mad skillz. LIKE HE CAN SPEAK ENGLISH. OMG, I'M SO JEALOUS. I mean don't ask me to tell you any of the songs he played, but the show's energy made up for my slight ignorance. Miyavi just came off as sincerely happy to be there playing for us. So I thank you, Miyavi for being awesome. *runz* I really don't think he's that hot though...Someone around me was saying all these fangirls got mad when he got married last year. like really, WTF. Let the poor -not even that cute- guy be happy.

Oh another thing that pissed me off (or just something that pissed me off since I don't think I mentioned anything pissing me off yet...except the oil disaster, that is.) I heard this girl say: "Best concert ever. A million times better than Dir en Grey (they're a Japanese hard-rock band) ever was" I swear I glared at that person, and as we were walking back to the car, I was like to Kathy 'OMG, THAT'S LIKE COMPARING AN APPLE TO A LEMON...OMG, CAN WE COMPARE APPLES AND LEMONS." Yeah, they're both fruit, and they both have an "e" in them...But really, I don't get why people have to put one band down to express their love for another. I make different categories for stuff so everything can be my favorite. I have my favorite band. Then I have my favorite Finnish band. My favorite band with Simone Simons as the Singer. My favorite American band. My favorite band with a male vocialist. You get the point. If you can guess all of those, you win!

So after the show, I'm really happy. I mean someone else around me did say "It is impossible to be sad at a Miyavi concert." Yes, I do overhear a lot. I like listening to people's conversations, okay. I don't deny being a Creep...although I'd rather be Optimistic. Lmao. I was glad I went, but I was also glad to get off my feet.

It's like after midnight when we get back in the car. The idea: Follow the opposite of the directions. Took us three tries to find I-90. The road isn't labled. U turn, anyone. But the real "adventure" was about to begin *glare* So the exit onto I-55 we need to get back home was closed off. At first we thought there was a ball game cuz we saw fireworks and traffic jams. Then we thought there was an accident since OUR EXIT WAS BLOCKED. But no...so we take the next exit...trying to turn around to take the exit on the other side of the road, but somehow we end up in Chinatown, which was fine because I know the area around there since I have family close by...so I'm like drive down that street cuz I know how to get home from there...Yes, I do, but the plan requires using I-55, which was blocked again. *frustration* So I call my mom who is like 'oh the expressway must have flooded, but I can't tell you why because our power is out." Like wtf, who would have thought the world was ending while we inside the concert? So we have to take Archer (side-street with LOTS of stoplights) home. Bumper to bumper traffic. Crazy Sox fan in front of us. Finally I remember the radio gives news...a radio? what's that? Express was flooded. When we needed it, of course! I never heard that happen before...So it turns out the hour traffic jam on Archer we were in was caused by ONE out of service traffic light. Once we got past that, traffic picks up. Now we're mad. Cuz it's late. We're sorta nervous.And my friend had to get up in like 4 hours. Yeah.

We eventually get home. My power was in fact out. Incidentally the power in the other half of the complex was on, but not our building, completely dark. It came back on within an hour though...not really a big deal.

Highlights of this story: I saw went to a concert. I had fun. WHOA-HOOO!

What have I Done?

I repeated my worst mistake. I always will. By pushing people away when I need them most. I wanted to tell each person I have done this too the truth, but it's always been the wrong truth.

I just tell people I love to go away because I'm afraid to be close to them, afraid they'll hurt me.

I've hurt people. But I keep thinking of myself as trying to help...My intentions have always been good. Maybe they're good to alleviate this guilt. Maybe they're not good at all. I'm selfish. So selfish.

I'm so afraid to acknowledge the truth. I can't tell people things.

Now I -rightfully- feel awful.

My Own Fault.

I've been miserable, and I've been blaming the wrong person. Truly the right the person to blame is ME. I let this hell happen to me.

It's my fault for trusting people. Because no one has shown to me that they care enough to sacrifice for me when it really comes down to it. Obviously, I'm not an outgoing enough person, not an interesting enough person, too self-absorbed, too scatterbrained, too pathetic...too whatever! But blame it on whatever character flaw you want, and I'm still a loser. A pathetic useless loser who everyone lies to and abandons in the end...because...THERE'S SOMEONE BETTER OUT THERE! YIP.

My original problem was telling my mother two years ago. I created years of havoc, ruined both my parents lives. Now he is all alone because my words stigmatized the world against him. She had to leave her easy life. Nevermind the fact that a shitload of money was wasted. That now she is alone. I made such a mistake trusting her, putting my life in someone else's hand...Yeah, I should have walked away. You would have been better off not knowing the truth. You can't bare the truth because you can't handle change.

More recently my issue was coming back here, but hell if it wouldn't have been selfish of me not to come home to a place I MADE you live in. Like "Oh mess up your whole life for ME, but I'm going to leave anyway!" Okay.

I'm a really, really bad person. Every single person who says they love me would rather be with someone else. I've suffered through trying to help people, trying be close to them. What have I gotten in response? An ex-best friend who blamed all our problems on me and ultimately betrayed me with no remorse, no sad memories whats-so-ever. What's worse, everyone agreed with her, went back to her. Left me. It's my fault. MY FAULT. I ONLY REGRET STAINING MY HANDS. HAD I NOT, I COULD HAVE BEEN FREE.

What the hell do I do now? I'm all alone and wasting my life. I'm so frustrated.

Remember...

How I was DREADING work today. Yeah. MINDLESS WORRY. Wanna know why? Because the world enjoys torturing me with awkward, embarressing situations that leave me feeling completely retarded. Observe:

This morning I wake up at 4am after sleeping for a few sweaty hours. I go to Burger King. Incidently NO ONE is there when I arrive so I sit in my car for a half hour. I'm thinking "you said come at five, right?" Right. So finally a manager comes, but pays no attention to me. Even when I stand by the door. I call right before six when they open. She knows nothing about me coming to train. She wasn't the one who hired me. I want to shrink up into my little shell and trudge away like a shameful turtle. But I don't; no, I go inside when they open and talk to the manager in person. Turns out I can't work because I don't have a uniform. That would have been nice to know before I woke up at 4am. Went home and back to bed, but I was still exhausted all day...

Then I started reading this stupid, depressing book with a really depressing heroin. Not a likeable character at all. Too judgemental. She's looking down on everyone while she, herself, is super boring. Plus the writer enjoys "TELLING." NOOOOOO!!!! SAVE ME.

Oh. Also, Socialism and Soccer both start with "soc." CONSPIRACY, ANYONE? I THINK SO. I HERE BY THINK WE SHOULD USE OUR SECOND AMENDMENT RIGHTS TO DEFEND THE FREEDOM OF INNOCENT AMERICAN FROM A WORLD THAT WANTS...*CHOKE* UNITY!!!

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

I also like in South Dakota and LOVE mustard.

Yip.

I think this post started out serious. Oi.

More thoughts.

So if we need the past to get to the future, than no past is ever wrong. Even when I forgot the meaning of 69 or make a silly mistake. Even when I don't talk to people or mean a lot to me for too long. Even I want to jump off a bridge because I've been so passive and indecisive.

I told you I feel wrong, and that's how I know something isn't right (okay, that's isn't what I said, but...). BUT TRULY BEAUTY LIES IN CONTRADICTION. LIKE SYMPHONIC METAL. LIKE 69. LIKE MY LIFE.

I'm going to stop now because I really need to pee, and it is after 3am. In like 26 hours, I have to learn how to be a good fastfood worker again so I should enjoy my creative, witty, insane intellectualism right NOW.

By sleeping.

CLIMAX.

OMG. SO I'M LIKE EXTREMELY MENTALLY STIMULATED RIGHT NOW!!! BECAUSE I JUST READ THE POST AMAZING CLIMAX EVER. OKAY NOW EVERYONE IS LIKE "CLIMAX?" "SEX"

OF COURSE, I'M TALKING ABOUT THE LITERARY CLIMAX. THAT IS THE TURNING POINT IN A STORY WHERE ALL THE EMOTION, CONFLICT, INTRIGUE, PENT-UP FRUSTRATION AND DESIRE AND UNSPOKEN TRUTH EXPLODE INTO AN ACTION THAT CONTRADICTS WHAT WOULD HAVE MADE SENSE WITH THE RISING ACTION.

GOD. NOW I WANT TO MAKE AN ANALOGY COMPARING THE PLOT STRUCTURE TO SEX. I'M SURE IT'S BEEN DONE BEFORE. IT'S TOOO EASY NOT TO HAVE BEEN DONE BEFORE (i'm sure that could make a pretty sleazy that's what she/ he said joke...). I'M GOING TO REFRAIN FROM THINKING ANYMORE INTO THAT THOUGH SINCE THAT'S NOT THE POINT OF MY ALL CAPS LOCK POST. I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THE POINT WAS. I JUST MOVED THE MOUSE PAD BECAUSE ME MOUSE KEPT JUMPING AROUND AND MESSING UP EVERYTHING I WAS TYPING. IT BETTER NOT DO THAT ANYMORE, BUT NOW I THINK MY THUMB KEEPS HITTING THE LAPTOP'S TOUCH-THING-Y.

OH RIGHT. I WAS TALKING ABOUT CLIMAXES. OH I KNOW. I'M GOING TO COMPARE CLIMAXES TO NUCLEAR FUSION (AT LEAST MY EXTREMELY STUPID TAKE ON NUCLEAR FUSION THAT HASN'T CHANGED SINCE SENIOR YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL) REMEMBER THIS: THE WATER BOTTLES AFTER I POURED THE REMAING WATER ON THE TABLE FOR NO REASON? IN A FLASH OF BRILLANCE, I SMASHED THOSE WATER BOTTLES TOGETHER AND SCREAMED NUCLEAR FUSION? BUT SEE JUST LIKE CLIMAXES AND 69 ARE SYMBOLIC SO IS NUCLEAR FUSION!!! BECAUSE IT'S "COMING TOGETHER!" YIP. LIKE SEX. Oi.

SO THE CLIMAX (of a romantic story that ends with a happy ending...) IS WHEN THE TWO LOVERS (the two little adorable particle thingies that go BOOM and make a lot of energy...also like sex...my mind feels like a land mine right now...whereever I walk, something else just pops up)

AHHHHH! OMG. I JUST REALIZED SOMETHING! SO I FIGURED OUT WHY I LOVE "KINGDOM OF HEAVEN -EPICA SONG-" SO MUCH!!! BECAUSE IT'S SO CONTRADICTORY! BECAUSE IT CONTAINS EVERY SINGLE THING THAT I LOVE! IN A SONG. WITH SIMONE SINGING IT!

quantum pyshics. inter-connectedness of everything. message of unity.

I think I understand now. A little better. About 69. Contradictions. Epic (of course, when I wanted to type EPIC, I TYPED EPICA.).

EPIC.

i did it again.

100th Post!

I'm going to use this landmark to inform anyone that I'm starting a new blog. One that I can let the world read. With my opinions about things going on in the world. Why? Because suddenly I want to have my own talk show...So why not start with a blog. Get famous. As if.

Anyway, I'll still update the hell outta this place since I need a place to pour out my deepest, most disturbing feelings that I can't share with normal society...and by normal society I mean my friends.

So I shall begin construction of "Deconstruct." Named for my FAVORITE Epica song, of course<3

Work.

So today was my first experience in the fast food industry! That's right, I started working at Burger King this morning!

The day started off like any other earlier morning...that's is it brought me back to those school days when Mum had to drive me back to Urbana at 6am so we went to McDonalds (or Dunkin' Donuts but usually McDonalds because we like their coffee more). But of course, then things had to get sad for me...Because I had to buy black pants...and when the size 12 pants didn't all fit...that hurt. I wonder how many people cry in dressing rooms? I know I have...many times.

But that's meaningless back story considering I worked today in the real world! One thing I'll is that I didn't think it would be so difficult. I know I'm awkward, and I know I'm not really good at processing different things at the same time...I'm thankful for my genius so I can go off and use my brain in my future job...not my procedural memory or hands.

I'm also slow. I'm just a slow person. I walk slow. I run slow. I take tests slowly. Actually, slow should be slowly in all those sentences...adverbs. I'm depressing myself. But I was having trouble with the drive-thru. I remember wanting to work in a drive-thur so I could be all friendly with people....I'm soooo helplessly optimistic. Unrealistic.

I hope I can learn. Gods, I'm so scared of being a failure at a manual job.

But some amusing stuff:

1. Our computers kept crashing so we had to shut down the whole resturant for like 15 minutes.

2. We never got the drive-thru system back up.

3. All the soda machines shut down.

I think I caused all the malfunctions. My extistence tends to do that.

One More Thing...

I wanted to text this to one of my friends, but I figured I'd be bothering her.

My life can be summed into two things:

1. A profound love for pizza and ice cream. Random yes, but I was eating spomoni ice cream at the time that I thought about this.

2. I am always trying to be "someone that I am not and don't even really want to be but think I should be."

#2 is more profound. I think. I don't know. Right now, all I am thinking about is how much I love Epica. Ohhhhhh, how I have a one track mind!

You don't think Epica is my favorite band right?

More Light-Hearted News.

Here's one for the Chronicles of Amy's Stove: So after all the kernls (spelled wrong?) in my bag of microwavable popcorn didn't POP! I decided I was going to see if I could get them to pop in a pan of oil on the stove. So I pour oil into a pan and turn on the heat. Mind you, I NEVER would have tried this with a gas stove, but electric... "burners" give you an illusion of safety. I learned if I turned the heat up as high as possible, the coils gets RED HOT. Nearly stopped my heart. I thought it was on fire. Note to self: Buy fire exstinguisher. Anyway, after I turned the heat down, the oil boiled and I poured the cornuls (CORN should be in kernils...I really don't know how to spell that word and it is far funnier trying to spell it than looking it up...). AND....IT POPPPED! AND I GOT HIT WITH SCALDING POPCORN AS IT FLEW ALL OVER MY KITCHEN! IT WAS GLORIOUS!

I feel somewhat better now! Plus I got a job. Start Sunday morning. I'll be making money! Yipee!

EPICA STARTED IT!

Because Epica insisted on not coming to Chicago during their November tour, I will be forced to stalk them. Let it be known that they started it and not me. Nope. I'm a good little fangirl.

Mark said that their tour manager tried to book them in as many new cities as possible, and they'll come back to Chicago after the release of their next album (in a like years! HELLO, IF ALL GOES AS PLANNED, I WON'T BE HERE THEN.) But anyway, I forgive Epica because now...dun dun dun...I can start planning my EPIC, EPICA ROADTRIP!!! IT'LL BE GLORIOUS!

Jealous.

So, honestly, I would consider myself a VERY jealous person. But in my defense, I'm not jealous of everyone. I'm just jealous of THOSE WHO HAVE WHAT I WANT. Okay, I think the very definition of jealous is "wanting something someone else has." So I'm not really that selective in my jealousy. All the same, I can learn from my jealous nature, learn what it is I want.

Way back long ago, in second grade, I was jealous of my classmate who won the writing contest. I remember clearly thinking that my writing must be too fluffy, with no real conflict. Somehow, though, this other girl wrote a well-crafted meaningful story. WHY DID THIS REVELATION BOTHER ME WHEN BACK THEN I (I also remember thinking this)FELT BAD FOR WHOEVER HAD TO WRITENOVELS. I mean, I guess you could bend this memory to mean that I simply wanted praise, and I would also have been jealous of someone who say won a beauty contest (something that really could mean less to me...even now). I do also remember having this terrible need to BE THE BEST. In math. In swimming. In friends. I do remember being jealous of those who were better at swimming than me (nouns involve less committment than verbs...which is why I didn't say swam...I'm trying here...to remember things I hate remembering...things that make me look WEAK). Very jealous at that. Jealous to the point of meanness, hatred. I chose to push people away rather than ever appear less than perfect. Over ten years later, I still do this exact same thing. Like I just read in a book "I push people away when I need them most." Because needing someone implies weakness and weakness implies that I am not perfect. But why, why do I have the need to never show weakness so engrained in me?

I think I have some repressed memory surrounding the events of whatever happened when I was four. Actually it's not whatever happened because I know exactly what happened. But I'm starting to think there was more than what I know happened because even being molested doesn't account for a terrible and innate desire to be perfect, to never show a single flaw. Okay, maybe it does. It probably does.I just wikied Complex Post Traumatic Stress disorder (because that's what I have, I've self-diagnosed...lmao), and the article doesn't say anything about a complusive need for perfection. Well, maybe it's actually CONTROL that I need. As in being perfect is a way to control everything about your life. Probably. Like that's the mindset behind anorexia, I think. If it wasn't for PCOS, I probably would have been anorexia at one poin in my life (okay, I was borderline anorexic when I was in my younger years of highschool, but I still didn't really lose weight...thank you, again PCOS.) I also went through a I Want To Make Myself Throw Up Phase, but luckily, I didn't have the balls to actually make myself puke. Yeah, I was too weak to make myself puke. Blessing or Curse? Just now, I was listening to FROZEN in two places. Two versions. FROZEN. I've chosen Deconstruct and Utopia as my favorite songs now-a-days because they represent other parts of me. You know, not the suicidial, desperately searching for a reason to remain alive person or the SO TRAUMITIZED I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT ANY EMOTION FEELS LIKE person. I don't know why that one is in caps...But regardless, both those persons are a REAL part of my past. No, they ARE my past. No wonder I'm jealous of anyone who has an even remotely "normal" past.

But actually that's not what I'm jealous of. Here, I will go through a list of the people I am most jealous of right now. Even knowing that -perhaps- a few of these people might read this. I'm also a self-professed COWARD. Sorry, I've never said any of these things to your face. Actually, I think I did say some of THIS to HER face because like it or not I was able to tell her anything. If I wasn't, I wouldn't have been able to tell her I wanted to die, when I did...when I actually didn't. Can I not do this?

1. I'll state with an easy to state reality because this one shouldn't come as surprise. I'm jealous of Sarah. Yes, the girl who I both am "in love with" and HATE. I want to be like her because she was so involved in "good." She was part of all these volunteer groups; she was the RA for goodness sake. A noteworthy position, yes. She played the role well too. Always the idealistic, always saying all the right things at all the right times. So yeah, I take my hat off to you, Sarah, because represent the "do-good, well-respected" person that I would love to be. Also I envy your "idyllic" childhood and family life. I can't help that. Oh and the fact that you seem to be a "better" psychology major than me. What with your research experience and sureness about your desires. I've spent A LOT of time thinking about you. I mean if this blog is any proof, you ARE THE ONLY THING I THINK ABOUT. Right now, I wouldn't say that is that far from the truth. My last two posts have been poems DIRECTED AT YOU. I swear, if only you knew I was OBSESSED with you. Though at this EXACT moment, you are not my biggest obsession. Oh how you (who ever you are) should know what is coming...I have two HERS, and well, yip, my current obsession is the original HER. The her I've dream about all the time. The her I used to tell everything to. So without further ado. The confession.

2. I'm jealous of Alex. I'm horridly jealous of the girl who broke my heart (in the non-romantic way). Why would I be jealous of an insincere ex-friend who "betrayed" me? Because she was the one who betrayed me. Because she was able to betray me. I don't betray people because I'm terrified of losing people. I just don't seem to have all the people in my life others do, and I'm not as wonderful at making friends as other people are...So I have cling to whoever I have. Cling might not be the best word since, honestly, I want to think people are good and there are quite a few people I really do like. I REALLY trusted her. Despite all the times when it seemed that she didn't care. 1. You carely chose them over me even when I told you how depressed I was. You didn't talk to me on that field trip and then YOU BLAMED ME. I was so GONE at that point. I believed you too. I always believed you...2. You told me "all you ever wanted was for our other friend to talk to you. At that other friend: I understand now, I think, why you couldn't talk to me for that time. I recently felt that way. That even if the person who these feelings were directed at came around, I could NEVER trust them the same way again. I would have lingering feelings of hate. Maybe that is why so many of my old friendships are screwed up beyond repair. Back on topic: You never valued the fact that we were "best friends." Nope. You always wanted someone else. Another friend. A boy. Some dream. You can't imagine how that made me feel. How much I cried because of you. How I still dream about you. Another obsession, right. I can't let go of these people because I am JEALOUS. I'm jealous because you didn't feel the way I did, because you had people to fill the ranks left by us. I mean, I had other friends, better friends, but if I am one thing, it is insincere. When I come to like someone, I like them. If I trust you, you should consider yourself lucky.

Yeah, those two HERS, my obsessions, take up so much space on my mind...for no reason too. I need to let go of them. Even if they do represent things I can't control, failures or people who hurt me a lot, I need to MOVE ON. No matter what moving on means. But, alas, I haven't confessed anything new here. Maybe a few feet deeper than before but not...well, not the stab that started this thought process. I don't know if I can say this next part since it truly makes me look wrong. Immature. Hopeless. Small. Especially considering...

Oi. So you remember (or KNOW first hand) that two of the people I consider to be my best friends I met online. And they know things other people don't about me. In a way, I let them see a fragile me, at a time of weakness when I needed someone so very much and when I otherwise would have pushed everyone away. Right now, I am pushing everyone away. I desperately want to push YOU away because I want to make it seem like I don't need you, that I'm not hurt that I'm not your favorite. You've said I was your best friend, but how many other people have you ever said that to? I know I have issue trusting someone who calls themselves my best friend, but I know when you say it, it isn't completely the truth- not completely a lie either. See I know (and really want it to be like this for both your sake's, trust me though I might be confessing to jealousy here, I don't harbor any ill wishes. I WANT BOTH YOU TO BE HAPPY. THAT WILL NOT CHANGE NO MATTER WHAT) she (I can't use names. I'm sorry. I'm a coward.) is your best friend. She's the one you want to talk to. Just like Sabina was the one Alex wanted to talk to. NOT ME. NEVER ME. I know I shouldn't feel this way (and I sure as hell shouldn't be listening to WT while feeling this way...) but it hurts a lot to think of you two being friends without me, being better friends than you are with me at that. It hurts. Maybe it's not even jealous. Simply: it hurts. As if I've been forgotten about after we were such good friends. AND I JUST GOT SIDE-TRACKED BY MY COMPLETE LOVE FOR EPICA! But another rant about that later...Where was I? Oh yes, I was feeling bad because you two seems to forget about me, leave me out. Because you're going to be with her and not me. Yip. As if you chose someone else over me. Mind you, I would WANT you to make that choice, but I also don't want to be forgotten about by anyone. I've lost a lot of friends...mainly the HER mentioned above. I don't want that to happen again. I'm so very, very sorry!

This post is ending now because I'm thinking about EPICA. Oi.

The Mummy

I’m a mummy.
All wrapped up
Body in-tact, mind shriveled away
Soon to encased
Forever with these thoughts
Memories of my mistakes, recollections of you
Never dying, never forgetting
Longing to return
So I can travel forward
Cross the river and
Let it die

I want to lay my thoughts to rest
In a tomb, far, far away from the
Floor I once shared with you
You’ll never know the role
Our -not quite- relationship
Played in my need for a sarcophagus
That your random comments, strong convictions
Sucked the blood from these stiffened veins

More or less, you were a roadblock
That bottle-necked my thoughts
My airway and all my bodily fluids
I choked and squirmed in your presence
At the thought of you
Let’s say I burst
My organs ruptured
Because of the clog you caused
Contradictory thoughts have
No release valve

Don’t bother as your wrap me
To carve my heart out
You already did
While I lived, sitting beside you
Leave the jars set aside to
Hold my useless organs
Empty
Like your eyes when you looked at me
Devoid of the feelings
That stopped my blood from reaching
My heart
Filled with desire
For you

I wish I could
Open my eyes
One last time to see
Your eyes twinkle
I know you silently
Enjoy wrapping the mouth
That knew no indoor voice
That supposedly disturbed your slumber
You bind me tighter
I find comfort once again
In a fantasy
These wrappings are your arms
Embracing me

I see white
Clouds in the sky of your kingdom
Floating above the throne from which
You rule
I dared question that authority
I wonder if you knew
I would love a power struggle
I didn’t want rebellion though
I wanted you
Inferior, you called me
And I believed it

I envy you
For building pyramids
While I drew maps to
Illusive treasure
Dug through scalding sand
And watched as the granules
Fell back into place
Like always
Mixing with my tears until
I sank into the quick-sand

In the next life
As irony would have it
I’ll be a creature
Who has no voice
Because I, who
Always had a witty comeback
Can never find the words when
It matters
I watch the tides of sand
Blow, rise and fall
As I burrow into the drifts
If I told you,
Would you have left me still
In a tight space for all eternity

Your kingdom will one day
Crumble, your gold will tarnish
I wish you the best
As you travel to construct
Bigger monuments in distant lands
I ask that you remember me
Maybe one day, you’ll excavate this place
Touch your finger tip to the mummy
You wrapped

I hope to laugh then
As if the memory tickled me
Like you’d laugh, like my friends would laugh
If I ever let the truth slip through my lips
Our love could never be
You, my love, never existed
A mere mirage in the scorching desert
That personified everything I feared
And longed for

Though as you fade
Into the orange horizon
A tear falls
Because I’m alone
Surrounded my dunes and sink holes
Wind and rain, beasts and scrutiny
Left to carve reality
From fallen stones
The whirling sands
Unearth me
A gem
Glistening in the sun