Ear Candy: "Hallelujah" by Imogen Heap
A fair warning: This is perhaps even more crazy, off-beat, nonsensical, and cryptic than everything else I write, so make sure you have your thinking pants (as opposed to the coveted drinking pants...) on.
And away we go.
My life is a paradox. I find myself in a very peculiar spot right now, where in a time that I am finally finding myself in a place that I can call home, surrounded by people who love me, I have never felt more alone. I can't help but fear that the people around me will see that I am pretending, that I am not cool or funny, or pretty, or fun, and that they will see me and grow tired of me and leave. People are always leaving me, especially when perhaps I need them the most? I like to think of myself as a strong person (which after that last sentence sounds ludacris, I am sure...) but I think that I (and perhaps everyone else?) assume that being a strong person means never having a moment of weakness. I have always been the strong one, who doesn't cry, who everyone else can lean on, and who carries others when they can't walk. So when I need to fall, why do I beat myself up? For being human? For having a momentary moment of weakness? I feel like an idiot when I get upset.
I am a complex set of crazy contradictions; I am so confident, and I love myself, but I am always scared the no one else will, and I will be left alone. I am terrified of being alone, but that is when all my best thoughts come out. (Is that then a fear of myself, and knowing what I really think?) I hate people who fish for compliments, but I love getting them. I like to think that I am pretty, but in reality, I think I am weird looking, and that you could do much better. I think I'm amazing, but I always doubt that anyone else will. This blog stands as a reminder that I am that ridiculous teenage girl who is wracked with doubt and insecurity, the same girl that when I see her, I wonder why she can't see herself as wonderful as we do? I pride myself on knowing who I am, but I am constantly changing, so how can I know myself? And if I can't even figure me out some days, how can I ever expect anyone else to venture into the jungle I call my thoughts and expect them to make it out alive? I hate people with big egos, but I hold my self in high esteems most of the time.
This blog is a contradiction! It is purely emo, but I am a [mostly] happy person! Althpugh I suppose I can attribute that to the fact that I only write when I have something to say, and nothing breeds words quite like discontent and pain. I have never been speechless from misery, although have often found myself speechless with joy. I always mean to sit down to write what I think, but sadly, the thoughts tend to run away from me before the computer can trap me, and I am never as eloquent as I like to think I am.
If you have such a big heart and a sweet smile, andso much charm and strength, what makes me worth your time? Who is the adventure? And why do I always asume that the adventure can only be one half? That one is the adventure and the other is the British man in a safari hat (preferrably with a monacle on his eye) trying to make sense of the whole thing? Maybe we are all our own jungle.
I love to think of myself as an adventure. I hate to disappoint. I love to love, and snuggle, and giggle, and be crazy, and be near people I love, and to have them know I love them. I love kisses (even the ones that get me written up, hahaha...) I love my family, even if they are crazy. I love myself, even if I am crazy. I love my friends, especially because they are crazy. I love the people that take the time to read the nonsensical ramblings that I put into writing. And I always appriciate the people who take the time to try to make me make sense, I know that it is not an easy task...
If you love adventures, I love you.
~E
Sunday, June 18, 2006
Saturday, June 10, 2006
the dust has only just begun to form crop circles in the carpet
Ear Candy: "Hide and Seek" by Imogen Heap
Wow. This is really it. I was looking at a picture of me and Claire at graduation, which was sitting next to the evidence of a photobooth escapade of ours circa 8th grade, and one thing stuck out at me was how old we looked! Before the ceremony, I was twirling around Rosie's living room in my new dress and dancing around in a caffinated craze while James mocked me and played gameboy. We were babies, back at six with nothing to do by play and be happy. And then we put our robes on, and we were suddenly back into our real bodies, but we look damn good in red. And all I could think was how thrilled I was to have my best friends there with me.
Yesterday was the most surreal experience of my life. Processing out onto the field in all my red (after narrowly escaping a panic attack in the gym and adjusting the eye make up that was streaming down my face in nervous/excited tears) with everyone I had gone to school with was crazy. I could see all the people, but the only sound was the band. I couldn't hear the cheers. When I was in my seat before we had to sing, I was shaking, and I grabbed Lach's hand. He squeezed mine and held it, and that was all that grounded me. We sang, and I loved being up there with seven people who have been seven of my favorite people and closest friends from day one. When we got nervous, or scared, Lach and I would grab hands and reassure each other. I could feel the love and the friendship, and knew we were all connected. Watching my classmates cross that stage was crazy unreal. I could hear the crowd, some people getting lots of cheers, some none at all, and I wondered what reaction I would be met with. But when I got up there, as I was grinning like a damn fool and Auntie Shannon was in no way subtly taking pictures, the last sound I heard was my name. There was no sound, only me in the sunlight. It was like a movie, I swear. That was so amazing, but I can't believe it's real.
Aren't I too young to be doing this? To be graduating? Growing up and moving away? I won't think of that now. New school, new people, new friends, (new shoes!!!), old Erin? Everything is changing, the world is still spinning, and I am sitting still. Not still in the way that I am never moving forward, because I am too much to not. But sitting still in the way that I am content to just watch the worl for now. I am waiting for a "Dare to be Great" situation.
As we all go on, and become the great people that we already so much are, I can only hope that everything that has happened will not be lost entirely. But if that is the case, than all I can say is that it has been amazing. But I know that the people who mean the most to me, and the friends whom I hold closest will not be lost, because I simply love them too much to let them go. So I guess that we will stad together, arms linked, iPods on ready to kick some ass.
Congratulations to the Class of 2006. Way to kick some ass.
If you and I have our arms linked, I love you.
~E
Wow. This is really it. I was looking at a picture of me and Claire at graduation, which was sitting next to the evidence of a photobooth escapade of ours circa 8th grade, and one thing stuck out at me was how old we looked! Before the ceremony, I was twirling around Rosie's living room in my new dress and dancing around in a caffinated craze while James mocked me and played gameboy. We were babies, back at six with nothing to do by play and be happy. And then we put our robes on, and we were suddenly back into our real bodies, but we look damn good in red. And all I could think was how thrilled I was to have my best friends there with me.
Yesterday was the most surreal experience of my life. Processing out onto the field in all my red (after narrowly escaping a panic attack in the gym and adjusting the eye make up that was streaming down my face in nervous/excited tears) with everyone I had gone to school with was crazy. I could see all the people, but the only sound was the band. I couldn't hear the cheers. When I was in my seat before we had to sing, I was shaking, and I grabbed Lach's hand. He squeezed mine and held it, and that was all that grounded me. We sang, and I loved being up there with seven people who have been seven of my favorite people and closest friends from day one. When we got nervous, or scared, Lach and I would grab hands and reassure each other. I could feel the love and the friendship, and knew we were all connected. Watching my classmates cross that stage was crazy unreal. I could hear the crowd, some people getting lots of cheers, some none at all, and I wondered what reaction I would be met with. But when I got up there, as I was grinning like a damn fool and Auntie Shannon was in no way subtly taking pictures, the last sound I heard was my name. There was no sound, only me in the sunlight. It was like a movie, I swear. That was so amazing, but I can't believe it's real.
Aren't I too young to be doing this? To be graduating? Growing up and moving away? I won't think of that now. New school, new people, new friends, (new shoes!!!), old Erin? Everything is changing, the world is still spinning, and I am sitting still. Not still in the way that I am never moving forward, because I am too much to not. But sitting still in the way that I am content to just watch the worl for now. I am waiting for a "Dare to be Great" situation.
As we all go on, and become the great people that we already so much are, I can only hope that everything that has happened will not be lost entirely. But if that is the case, than all I can say is that it has been amazing. But I know that the people who mean the most to me, and the friends whom I hold closest will not be lost, because I simply love them too much to let them go. So I guess that we will stad together, arms linked, iPods on ready to kick some ass.
Congratulations to the Class of 2006. Way to kick some ass.
If you and I have our arms linked, I love you.
~E
Monday, June 05, 2006
And You Can Have This Heart To Break
Ear Candy: "So It Goes" by Billy Joel
"I have gilmpsed the future, and all I can say is... GO Back!"
My God, I wish I could. As I have reached the end of high school, I've been looking back at everything, and although there are things that I would do differently if I had a second chance, I don't regret anything. But all I want is more time. More time with the people I love, more time to get everything done. To go to the beach more, to hang out, to go to more parties... To tell him how I fell, how I've felt. But what good would any of it do? I can already feel us drifting apart, moving away from each other... And I can feel my heart aching.
I am scared. For the future, for jumping without you all as my parachute. All I have wanted my whole life is to grow up. And now that it is happening, I just want to curl up on the couch and watch a movie with my head in your lap while you play with my hair. I want to watch the sun rise, and know that when we say oodbye, it isn't forever. That we won't come home strangers. I want to know that you know how much I love you, and I need to know that you love me too. I am so excited to have had my best friends with me for so long, but I am scared that in three months, I won't have them anymore.
I've been watching Cameron Crowe movies, and they make me nostalgic for something I've never experienced... Which adds to the nostalgia that I am feeling for everything. I want to hug you all with all my might and never let go. The kind of hug where i know our hearts/souls/whatever are hugging too. I miss feeling infinite. But we're all leaving, and growing up, and I can wish for no more than as we go, for you to know how much all of you have truly belssed my life. How wonderful knowing you has mademe, and how I would in no way be the person I am if I hadn't had all of you. And that I really do love you.
So to everyone who reads this, or knows me, I love you so much. Thank you for everything. And I mean that more than I have ever meant anything in my life.
I heard you singing this song, and I doubt you saw the true irony of the situation. The greatest irony is the line "you're the only one who knows", because I highly doubt you do.
If I've said it once... I love you.
~E
"And you can make decisions too, and you can have this heart to break..."
consider it broken.
"I have gilmpsed the future, and all I can say is... GO Back!"
My God, I wish I could. As I have reached the end of high school, I've been looking back at everything, and although there are things that I would do differently if I had a second chance, I don't regret anything. But all I want is more time. More time with the people I love, more time to get everything done. To go to the beach more, to hang out, to go to more parties... To tell him how I fell, how I've felt. But what good would any of it do? I can already feel us drifting apart, moving away from each other... And I can feel my heart aching.
I am scared. For the future, for jumping without you all as my parachute. All I have wanted my whole life is to grow up. And now that it is happening, I just want to curl up on the couch and watch a movie with my head in your lap while you play with my hair. I want to watch the sun rise, and know that when we say oodbye, it isn't forever. That we won't come home strangers. I want to know that you know how much I love you, and I need to know that you love me too. I am so excited to have had my best friends with me for so long, but I am scared that in three months, I won't have them anymore.
I've been watching Cameron Crowe movies, and they make me nostalgic for something I've never experienced... Which adds to the nostalgia that I am feeling for everything. I want to hug you all with all my might and never let go. The kind of hug where i know our hearts/souls/whatever are hugging too. I miss feeling infinite. But we're all leaving, and growing up, and I can wish for no more than as we go, for you to know how much all of you have truly belssed my life. How wonderful knowing you has mademe, and how I would in no way be the person I am if I hadn't had all of you. And that I really do love you.
So to everyone who reads this, or knows me, I love you so much. Thank you for everything. And I mean that more than I have ever meant anything in my life.
I heard you singing this song, and I doubt you saw the true irony of the situation. The greatest irony is the line "you're the only one who knows", because I highly doubt you do.
If I've said it once... I love you.
~E
"And you can make decisions too, and you can have this heart to break..."
consider it broken.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
But I've stayed up with you all night...
Ear Candy: "How To Save a Life" by The Fray
In my life lately, I have been facing a liot of things that are really hard. And I am not going to get into them, because I am working through it. But most of all, I am being confronted with life, and how short and fragile it can be. And I feel like I don't say enough how much I absolutely love all of you. I am not sure exactly who reads this, but if you take the time to see what I have to say, I mean you. If you are in my life, I mean you. I am ok, I wasn't for the longest time, but I am, and as cliche and cheesy as all this may sound tomorrow morning, it is because you guys were there for me and picked me up when I needed it. I can only hope that you know that I will always do the same for you. I am not sure what brought this all on, end of the year? This song is not helping, because it so much applies to my life, and it is making me think, but in a good way. Where did this all come from? Graduating? Tonight's difficult to watch episode of my guilty pleasure show, One Tree Hill? Perhaps.
But however you cut it, I needed you all to know that whatever the future holds, you are all amazing, and I am so incredibly lucky to have you, to hold you, and to be given the opportunity to love you.
And I really do. I love you.
~E
In my life lately, I have been facing a liot of things that are really hard. And I am not going to get into them, because I am working through it. But most of all, I am being confronted with life, and how short and fragile it can be. And I feel like I don't say enough how much I absolutely love all of you. I am not sure exactly who reads this, but if you take the time to see what I have to say, I mean you. If you are in my life, I mean you. I am ok, I wasn't for the longest time, but I am, and as cliche and cheesy as all this may sound tomorrow morning, it is because you guys were there for me and picked me up when I needed it. I can only hope that you know that I will always do the same for you. I am not sure what brought this all on, end of the year? This song is not helping, because it so much applies to my life, and it is making me think, but in a good way. Where did this all come from? Graduating? Tonight's difficult to watch episode of my guilty pleasure show, One Tree Hill? Perhaps.
But however you cut it, I needed you all to know that whatever the future holds, you are all amazing, and I am so incredibly lucky to have you, to hold you, and to be given the opportunity to love you.
And I really do. I love you.
~E
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
But not a real green dress...
Ear Candy: "Close Your Eyes" by The Chemical Brothers
So I am excited, because I just sent in my Enrollment Confirmation and housing app and whatnot to Monterey, so they know I'm coming in the fall. Yay.
I'm tired, but I'm sure you could tell that by my lack-luster appearance and the bags that sit just under my eyes, impervious to cold sppons, tea bags, cucumbers, concealer, and pleading. I am a ghost, floating through my life, going through the motions, nothing clicking or connecting. If I stood next to "Sad Life Joe", he would look like a damn Care Bear (if Care Bears had stab wounds.) Things are getting bad. I am slipping and I can't get my grip. I'm scared of not getting back on track. I don't know what I want, only what I don't want, and how does that help me?
I have just realized now that I think better when I listen to RENT (which I am not listening to.) Best Buy is selling collectible versions of the soundtrack, where each case features the face of one of the characters. These are geared towards RENT-Head chumps like me. ANd sadly, I weant them. And a new camera. And new jeans. Want want want. Things things things. Are these things supposed to make me happy? Economics is depressing, because someone always has to pay. Sometimes in that class, I am overcome with a horrible thought that people might love each other more if we were all made out of money, but I think for me, I need a warm body. That's worth more to me than the entire collectible RENT series, hands down.
So I am excited, because I just sent in my Enrollment Confirmation and housing app and whatnot to Monterey, so they know I'm coming in the fall. Yay.
I'm tired, but I'm sure you could tell that by my lack-luster appearance and the bags that sit just under my eyes, impervious to cold sppons, tea bags, cucumbers, concealer, and pleading. I am a ghost, floating through my life, going through the motions, nothing clicking or connecting. If I stood next to "Sad Life Joe", he would look like a damn Care Bear (if Care Bears had stab wounds.) Things are getting bad. I am slipping and I can't get my grip. I'm scared of not getting back on track. I don't know what I want, only what I don't want, and how does that help me?
I have just realized now that I think better when I listen to RENT (which I am not listening to.) Best Buy is selling collectible versions of the soundtrack, where each case features the face of one of the characters. These are geared towards RENT-Head chumps like me. ANd sadly, I weant them. And a new camera. And new jeans. Want want want. Things things things. Are these things supposed to make me happy? Economics is depressing, because someone always has to pay. Sometimes in that class, I am overcome with a horrible thought that people might love each other more if we were all made out of money, but I think for me, I need a warm body. That's worth more to me than the entire collectible RENT series, hands down.
Monday, February 27, 2006
I'll never forget what I've lost...
Ear Candy: The Chemical Brothers
I haven't updated in a while, I know... I suck! There are so many times that I have sat down to impose my thoughts on you, and when it came down to it, the words wouldn't come. I have been a shell, an empty person who can talk and walk and function, oh how life like. But when it comes down to it, I am a shell of who I am capable of being. I touch the fire just to feel the burn, just to feel anything. It's cold.
Sheri died. I couldn't cry, but something inside of my broke. I kept thinking back to Lorelei and Scott, back to my friend Maddie who died in an accident when I was nine. Faces layered over faces, all retreating back where I can't follow. Oh, how emo am I? Fuck that. There is so much to be living for right now, there always is, so why am I dwelling? On Saturday, I was dressed for the memorial at three. At three fifty, I couldn't get in the car and go. I went upstairs and put on my Oxford shirt and jeans, and went for a very long hike in Annadel while eating strawberries. I sat on a bench and just thought, about her, about life, everything and everyone. I cried, but I was smiling. I felt connected to everything, and I liked that feeling. That night I hung out with Steffie, and it was really nice to go sit at Borders and eat truffles. I think I liked the feeling of the past's better memories not being all too far away. The exception was that I had much better hair this time around.
I dont't think I tell the people I love that I love them enough. I hope they know. I can't handle losing anyone else. I hate funerals. Sitting around crying about death seems so horrible to me, because we can't change it, and I don't like feeling helpless. Sitting around crying just makes me feel bad, I would rather remember them as they were. I can't look tragedy in the face anymore.
I am tired. I need a break, but it doesn not look as though one will be presenting itself in the near future. Weeks are so long, but there is never enough time to do all of the things that I need to do, not even close... And weekends, well those have never been long enough.
I am kind of rambling, not really saying anything, so I think that I am done for now... I wish I had found the words I wanted out.
If you have things figured out, I'm jealous, but I love you.
~E
I haven't updated in a while, I know... I suck! There are so many times that I have sat down to impose my thoughts on you, and when it came down to it, the words wouldn't come. I have been a shell, an empty person who can talk and walk and function, oh how life like. But when it comes down to it, I am a shell of who I am capable of being. I touch the fire just to feel the burn, just to feel anything. It's cold.
Sheri died. I couldn't cry, but something inside of my broke. I kept thinking back to Lorelei and Scott, back to my friend Maddie who died in an accident when I was nine. Faces layered over faces, all retreating back where I can't follow. Oh, how emo am I? Fuck that. There is so much to be living for right now, there always is, so why am I dwelling? On Saturday, I was dressed for the memorial at three. At three fifty, I couldn't get in the car and go. I went upstairs and put on my Oxford shirt and jeans, and went for a very long hike in Annadel while eating strawberries. I sat on a bench and just thought, about her, about life, everything and everyone. I cried, but I was smiling. I felt connected to everything, and I liked that feeling. That night I hung out with Steffie, and it was really nice to go sit at Borders and eat truffles. I think I liked the feeling of the past's better memories not being all too far away. The exception was that I had much better hair this time around.
I dont't think I tell the people I love that I love them enough. I hope they know. I can't handle losing anyone else. I hate funerals. Sitting around crying about death seems so horrible to me, because we can't change it, and I don't like feeling helpless. Sitting around crying just makes me feel bad, I would rather remember them as they were. I can't look tragedy in the face anymore.
I am tired. I need a break, but it doesn not look as though one will be presenting itself in the near future. Weeks are so long, but there is never enough time to do all of the things that I need to do, not even close... And weekends, well those have never been long enough.
I am kind of rambling, not really saying anything, so I think that I am done for now... I wish I had found the words I wanted out.
If you have things figured out, I'm jealous, but I love you.
~E
Sunday, February 05, 2006
It's better to have loved...
Ear Candy: "It's better to have" by Temposhark
I wrote this after Jello's party, and never got around to posting it...
... all the children picked them.
I went home and cried tonight. I haven't done that in a while. I cried because I feel like I/ we have lost all of our innocence. We spent our childhoods pretending to be grown ups, and then we grew up too fast. Is this what we wanted? Like things aren't working out how we planned. Things are wrong, we're so jaded... There's drugs and booze and sex and we're living like rock stars without a second thought. Maybe without a first one either.
I hurt so deeply for him, because I know how hard it is to miss the family that we love so much.
I cried for her, because she is so mixed up, and turned around, and I want to help her, because I love her. But I don't know how.
I cry for the best friend I never see, who I feel like I am drifting from.
I hurt for the best friend I see every day, who I feel like I have lost.
I hurt for the one who takes a secret pleasure in the pain, because he is desperate to feel a connection. Or maybe because he loves the power.
... for the one I can't understand, but try so hard to.
... for the girl who loves everything and everyone so much. I hope so much that she is feeling it back.
... the girl who got lost, and i don't know how to find her.
... the one who needs to be better.
But most of all, I miss feeling like I mattered in people's lives, like it was important that I be there... I miss my friends. Even when I see them, I feel separate and awkward. Unwanted. Tonight I watched everyone drinking and partying and having fun. I laughed, and hugged and participated. Why did I leave feeling like the night was empty? I want to hug everyone, and kiss them on the forehead and drink fall spices with them and talk to them and fix everything. And make it good like when we were Lost in SanFranslation. We got lost in the damn Mission district and were smiling, why aren't we now?
... i hate parties.
If you remeber that you love me, i love you.
~E
I wrote this after Jello's party, and never got around to posting it...
... all the children picked them.
I went home and cried tonight. I haven't done that in a while. I cried because I feel like I/ we have lost all of our innocence. We spent our childhoods pretending to be grown ups, and then we grew up too fast. Is this what we wanted? Like things aren't working out how we planned. Things are wrong, we're so jaded... There's drugs and booze and sex and we're living like rock stars without a second thought. Maybe without a first one either.
I hurt so deeply for him, because I know how hard it is to miss the family that we love so much.
I cried for her, because she is so mixed up, and turned around, and I want to help her, because I love her. But I don't know how.
I cry for the best friend I never see, who I feel like I am drifting from.
I hurt for the best friend I see every day, who I feel like I have lost.
I hurt for the one who takes a secret pleasure in the pain, because he is desperate to feel a connection. Or maybe because he loves the power.
... for the one I can't understand, but try so hard to.
... for the girl who loves everything and everyone so much. I hope so much that she is feeling it back.
... the girl who got lost, and i don't know how to find her.
... the one who needs to be better.
But most of all, I miss feeling like I mattered in people's lives, like it was important that I be there... I miss my friends. Even when I see them, I feel separate and awkward. Unwanted. Tonight I watched everyone drinking and partying and having fun. I laughed, and hugged and participated. Why did I leave feeling like the night was empty? I want to hug everyone, and kiss them on the forehead and drink fall spices with them and talk to them and fix everything. And make it good like when we were Lost in SanFranslation. We got lost in the damn Mission district and were smiling, why aren't we now?
... i hate parties.
If you remeber that you love me, i love you.
~E
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
So I just smiled and turned up the Ratatat
Ear Candy: "Seventeen Years" by Ratatat
One thing I have learned from my father is that it is easier to study someone as a text book instructs you to rather than getting to know a person. [SIDE NOTE: My father is a very "left-brain thhinker", he is a doctor, a former chemist and former math and science teacher. He likes things to be smiple and "by the book."] When my mom died, my dad bought a bunch of books on parenting teenagers, so that he could "better understand me".Of course I see the logic in reading a book about "teens like me", rather than talking to me or spending time getting to know the teen that is me. He then opts to pay a therapist to talk to me once a week so that she too can classify me and make me into a simple vocab list that my doctor daddy can understand. And he is happy with this, so long as one of those vocab words isn't "average".
A moment brought to you by Erin's Inner Monologue:
I exist in three ways: as I see myself, as I wish I was, and as others see me. And most others see me as a "text book example"; a statistic.
I am a butterfly, wings spread and pinned to a cork board with some creep, who will most likely take his cousin to his senior prom, studying me. Perhaps this is a smidgen of an exaggeration, as my daddy took a real date to his senior prom... But either way, I am judged by a cross section of the population that was "studied" and written about by a group of doctors so out of touch with the nation's youth that one would think they had never been young, but rather been born out of one of the test tubes they are so fond of. Do test tube babies grow up resenting the scientists? Or the test tubes? I am not judged on my own merits.
Yet another, ever-memorable, moment brought to you by Erin's Inner Monologue:
I love telling people what I think, but often I wonder if they really care. Which is why I write... Sometimes it feels like I have more thoughts in my head than I know what to do with, and I have to trap them somehow, before I lose them.
Mrs. Butler is always encouraging me; encouraging me to write, encouraging me to express myself by any means necessary, encouraging me to be creative, and of course, encouraging me to date her college students. (And which three of those four I am engaging in at this moment is your guess...) I hope that everyone has at least one teacher who becomes more than just homework and grade points, because sometimes the encouragement that comes from the most unexpected places is the most helpful.
Going back to my earlier themes of perception, for so long I have been "the bitchy one", and I am not sure that is really an entirely fair perception. True, I have a bit of an edge, and in many ways I think I have earned it. But overall, I think I am a pretty laid-back, chill person, although I do have many undeniable quirks. One of the best "inadvertant compliments" I have gotten recently was from a friend of mine who told me that often, he couldn't handle me when he was high. Now, this could be considered an insult, and initially, that is how I took it too. But then he continued on with what he was saying, and I couldn't help but smile. He said that when he is in a less-than-sober state, everything is magnified, and that because normally I am such a nice person, that when magnified, it can be overwhelming, even fake seeming, even though when in a state of sobreity he knows I am genuine. I didn't know what to say, so I just smiled and turned up the Ratatat.
I try to be nice, and I have grown so much as a person, even in just the last six months. Hopefully, I have grown into someone people feel that they can relate to. Everything is a learning experience, and although it has taken me this long to realize this, but the fact that I am learning day to day, in my opinion, shows the true depth of my character.
Yet ANOTHER, short yet sweet moment brought to you by Erin's Inner Monologue:
Do you ever feel more profound in your head than you do on paper? I do.
But because I am a very determined person, I am determined to show people everything about me that I fear they overlook. I want the me that I see, and the me that everyone else sees to be one and the same. But isn't that the goal of everyone? To be not who everyone wants them to be, but rather to have the person that everyone wants them to be to be exactly who they are?
If you read this and it makes you think, I love you.
~E
One thing I have learned from my father is that it is easier to study someone as a text book instructs you to rather than getting to know a person. [SIDE NOTE: My father is a very "left-brain thhinker", he is a doctor, a former chemist and former math and science teacher. He likes things to be smiple and "by the book."] When my mom died, my dad bought a bunch of books on parenting teenagers, so that he could "better understand me".Of course I see the logic in reading a book about "teens like me", rather than talking to me or spending time getting to know the teen that is me. He then opts to pay a therapist to talk to me once a week so that she too can classify me and make me into a simple vocab list that my doctor daddy can understand. And he is happy with this, so long as one of those vocab words isn't "average".
A moment brought to you by Erin's Inner Monologue:
I exist in three ways: as I see myself, as I wish I was, and as others see me. And most others see me as a "text book example"; a statistic.
I am a butterfly, wings spread and pinned to a cork board with some creep, who will most likely take his cousin to his senior prom, studying me. Perhaps this is a smidgen of an exaggeration, as my daddy took a real date to his senior prom... But either way, I am judged by a cross section of the population that was "studied" and written about by a group of doctors so out of touch with the nation's youth that one would think they had never been young, but rather been born out of one of the test tubes they are so fond of. Do test tube babies grow up resenting the scientists? Or the test tubes? I am not judged on my own merits.
Yet another, ever-memorable, moment brought to you by Erin's Inner Monologue:
I love telling people what I think, but often I wonder if they really care. Which is why I write... Sometimes it feels like I have more thoughts in my head than I know what to do with, and I have to trap them somehow, before I lose them.
Mrs. Butler is always encouraging me; encouraging me to write, encouraging me to express myself by any means necessary, encouraging me to be creative, and of course, encouraging me to date her college students. (And which three of those four I am engaging in at this moment is your guess...) I hope that everyone has at least one teacher who becomes more than just homework and grade points, because sometimes the encouragement that comes from the most unexpected places is the most helpful.
Going back to my earlier themes of perception, for so long I have been "the bitchy one", and I am not sure that is really an entirely fair perception. True, I have a bit of an edge, and in many ways I think I have earned it. But overall, I think I am a pretty laid-back, chill person, although I do have many undeniable quirks. One of the best "inadvertant compliments" I have gotten recently was from a friend of mine who told me that often, he couldn't handle me when he was high. Now, this could be considered an insult, and initially, that is how I took it too. But then he continued on with what he was saying, and I couldn't help but smile. He said that when he is in a less-than-sober state, everything is magnified, and that because normally I am such a nice person, that when magnified, it can be overwhelming, even fake seeming, even though when in a state of sobreity he knows I am genuine. I didn't know what to say, so I just smiled and turned up the Ratatat.
I try to be nice, and I have grown so much as a person, even in just the last six months. Hopefully, I have grown into someone people feel that they can relate to. Everything is a learning experience, and although it has taken me this long to realize this, but the fact that I am learning day to day, in my opinion, shows the true depth of my character.
Yet ANOTHER, short yet sweet moment brought to you by Erin's Inner Monologue:
Do you ever feel more profound in your head than you do on paper? I do.
But because I am a very determined person, I am determined to show people everything about me that I fear they overlook. I want the me that I see, and the me that everyone else sees to be one and the same. But isn't that the goal of everyone? To be not who everyone wants them to be, but rather to have the person that everyone wants them to be to be exactly who they are?
If you read this and it makes you think, I love you.
~E
Monday, December 05, 2005
Light up, as if you had a choice...
Ear Candy: "Run" by Snow Patrol
"How can you write real life when real life is becoming more and more like fiction?"
(If you are laughing at my use of a Rent quote, picture me kicking your ass.)
Well, I suppose that then you write fiction, perhaps, largely-affected-by-real-life fiction. The challenge to writing fiction is to not be cliche and to create characters with believable depth. And the challenge posed by using real life as your muse, at least for your's truly, is what to do when your life is a cliche and and you hardly believe your friends sometimes. My life as a cliche: the ever-sarcastic, strong-willed hippie bohemian struggling to come into her own with a creative revolution she can finally be proud of (or finish?); a sister who fights with trying to be different from her sister while at the same time the same, and always striving for self; the father, a widower who doesn't know what to do without her or what to do with two dauhters whom he knows more in theory than reality. A teenager screaming to be heard.
My amazing, mulit-faceted friends can be classified, labeled, evensometimes predicted. But they are never static, because to be a static, one must be dull, and we are anything but. And we are ever incstual, our heart strings getting tugged towards each other like freakin; marionettes; oblivious to the unintentional damaga we cause. But I am never the girl that turns heads, breaks hearts, even gets a double take. I hardly warrant an eye brow raise. The only The only ones who tell me I'm beautiful are my dad (who has to?) and my best friend, who is gorgeous anyway, so it doesn't count.
A moment brought to you by Erin's Inner Monologue:
If I love myself so much (and I do), then why do I have such a strong desire to be pretty?
Continuing along with my theme of dis-engaged heart strings and me not being the girl who gets the boy, I find myself looking at other girls, asking the ever cliche "what does she had that I don't?" Or perhaps, more aptly, "What makes him so painfully oblivious to what I have got?" The right guy is always so perfec-seeming, one (namely me) is left with an overwhelming feeling of "I'm not worthy!" I wonder what I can do to be memorable, or to stand out without having to go for shock value.
Another moment brought to you by Erin's Inner Monologue
I want to be "that girl", as in "who is that girl?!"
If you stop and listen to your inner monologue, then I love you.
~E
"How can you write real life when real life is becoming more and more like fiction?"
(If you are laughing at my use of a Rent quote, picture me kicking your ass.)
Well, I suppose that then you write fiction, perhaps, largely-affected-by-real-life fiction. The challenge to writing fiction is to not be cliche and to create characters with believable depth. And the challenge posed by using real life as your muse, at least for your's truly, is what to do when your life is a cliche and and you hardly believe your friends sometimes. My life as a cliche: the ever-sarcastic, strong-willed hippie bohemian struggling to come into her own with a creative revolution she can finally be proud of (or finish?); a sister who fights with trying to be different from her sister while at the same time the same, and always striving for self; the father, a widower who doesn't know what to do without her or what to do with two dauhters whom he knows more in theory than reality. A teenager screaming to be heard.
My amazing, mulit-faceted friends can be classified, labeled, evensometimes predicted. But they are never static, because to be a static, one must be dull, and we are anything but. And we are ever incstual, our heart strings getting tugged towards each other like freakin; marionettes; oblivious to the unintentional damaga we cause. But I am never the girl that turns heads, breaks hearts, even gets a double take. I hardly warrant an eye brow raise. The only The only ones who tell me I'm beautiful are my dad (who has to?) and my best friend, who is gorgeous anyway, so it doesn't count.
A moment brought to you by Erin's Inner Monologue:
If I love myself so much (and I do), then why do I have such a strong desire to be pretty?
Continuing along with my theme of dis-engaged heart strings and me not being the girl who gets the boy, I find myself looking at other girls, asking the ever cliche "what does she had that I don't?" Or perhaps, more aptly, "What makes him so painfully oblivious to what I have got?" The right guy is always so perfec-seeming, one (namely me) is left with an overwhelming feeling of "I'm not worthy!" I wonder what I can do to be memorable, or to stand out without having to go for shock value.
Another moment brought to you by Erin's Inner Monologue
I want to be "that girl", as in "who is that girl?!"
If you stop and listen to your inner monologue, then I love you.
~E
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Am I not pretty enough?
Ear Candy: "Not Pretty Enough" by Kasey Chambers
Of course I said I wasn't mad. What was I supposed to do? Scream? Cry? Tell you how honestly hurt I am? Were you ever going to tell me, or just wait for me to realize it. So I'm suddenly not good enough? On what grounds did you base that? Or were you trying to protect me by not telling me, keep me from hurting that much longer? Well, thank GOD you didn't ruin my day, what with me ripping my favorite jeans, burning myself at work (not to mention we ran out of aprons, so i didn't get to wear one, and i was splashed with dishwater in a manner so strategic that i managed to give the impression that my left breast was lactating for the better part of tonight), a pointless rehersal, another let down, and schloemp telling me that my essay was bad and i wouldn't get into college. Thank you, dear dear friend, for dumping me on my ass. Did you think to ask me? Or did you even think about me at all? Did you even care? How does it feel to be a sellout?
" When you walk by a group of quote-unquote normal people
You chuckle to yourself patting yourself on the back as you scoff
It's the same superiority complex
Shared by the high school jocks who made your life a living hell
And makes you a slave to the competitive capitalist dogma
You spend every moment of your waking life bitching about "
A hug and a "don't be mad, i still love you" don't quite cut it. Not that they ever have. I'm not mad, I'm hurt, and I am disappointed. Why am I supposed to be the graceful, understanding one. Understand what?! That I'm not good enough? I don't think I ever have been. for being such a loud, seemingly confident person, I am very insecure. And my friends are supposed to be my safety net. What do I do when they drop me? An once again, she gets picked over me. And the jury is not surprised.
If you can be sure this isn't about you, then I love you.
~E
Of course I said I wasn't mad. What was I supposed to do? Scream? Cry? Tell you how honestly hurt I am? Were you ever going to tell me, or just wait for me to realize it. So I'm suddenly not good enough? On what grounds did you base that? Or were you trying to protect me by not telling me, keep me from hurting that much longer? Well, thank GOD you didn't ruin my day, what with me ripping my favorite jeans, burning myself at work (not to mention we ran out of aprons, so i didn't get to wear one, and i was splashed with dishwater in a manner so strategic that i managed to give the impression that my left breast was lactating for the better part of tonight), a pointless rehersal, another let down, and schloemp telling me that my essay was bad and i wouldn't get into college. Thank you, dear dear friend, for dumping me on my ass. Did you think to ask me? Or did you even think about me at all? Did you even care? How does it feel to be a sellout?
" When you walk by a group of quote-unquote normal people
You chuckle to yourself patting yourself on the back as you scoff
It's the same superiority complex
Shared by the high school jocks who made your life a living hell
And makes you a slave to the competitive capitalist dogma
You spend every moment of your waking life bitching about "
A hug and a "don't be mad, i still love you" don't quite cut it. Not that they ever have. I'm not mad, I'm hurt, and I am disappointed. Why am I supposed to be the graceful, understanding one. Understand what?! That I'm not good enough? I don't think I ever have been. for being such a loud, seemingly confident person, I am very insecure. And my friends are supposed to be my safety net. What do I do when they drop me? An once again, she gets picked over me. And the jury is not surprised.
If you can be sure this isn't about you, then I love you.
~E
Monday, October 24, 2005
Heaven can wait, we're only watching the skies...
Ear Candy: "Forever Young" by Alphaville
I went and saw Elizabeth Town with Quinnie after school today; it was fabulous. I liked it better than Garden State, which I loved. It was beuatiful as Cameron Crowe is pretty much amazing, and the best ever. The story, the acting, the dialogue, were all wonderful. And the cinematography was brilliant. I loved it.
But it made me so sad. I was crying, and not just for the movie, for me. I have been thinking about her so much lately. What with it being my senior year and then I am leaving home, and my dad talking about getting married and replacing her, and just in general, all of the things that I don't have her to do with me. In the movie, he went on a road trip with his dad's ashes. He talked to his father, and got to say good bye. He had all of his memories. I wish I didn't have to say goodbye. Out of everything, there is only one thing that I really want. I want her back. I want her to hug me, and tell me she loves me, and that she is proud of me, and to have a mom again. I am so lost and confused in the way that only my mom could help me with, and I think I am stuck lost. I just don't understand it. I miss her so much it kills me. Aunt Shannon and Kathleen and everyone tell me that I am just like her, that she would be proud, blah blah blah. I never got the chance to know if I am like her. Because I never got to know her as anything more than my mommy who made me sandwiches and took me to ballet and made the costumes and did hot lunch at school and yelled at Bethany's mother for being dumb (which is apparently genetic). And how do they know what she would think? She isn't here to say it.
God is supposed to love us. To protect us. Good things happen to those who are good, and the wicked are punished, right? Then why the fuck did such and amazing, genuinely good woman who cared so much for everyone around her suffer like that? And why did I have to watch my mother, my fucking mother, decompose? Forget my name and who I was, lose her hair, her body, her mind, and be swallowed up by something that no God could have ever wished on anyone. Where the hell was God? And what am I supposed to do know? If God isn't watching out for us, then who is? I can't put my faith in Him. I am faithless.
I think I have been talking about her more lately, and I am sorry if that makes everyone uncomfortable, I am sure it must be hard to know what to say or how to react, and I don't blame you. Nor do I want you to pity me or anything like that.
I'm not really sure what brought this all on. I'm sorry...
If you love the people who love you so much it hurts, I'm hurting for you,
~E
I went and saw Elizabeth Town with Quinnie after school today; it was fabulous. I liked it better than Garden State, which I loved. It was beuatiful as Cameron Crowe is pretty much amazing, and the best ever. The story, the acting, the dialogue, were all wonderful. And the cinematography was brilliant. I loved it.
But it made me so sad. I was crying, and not just for the movie, for me. I have been thinking about her so much lately. What with it being my senior year and then I am leaving home, and my dad talking about getting married and replacing her, and just in general, all of the things that I don't have her to do with me. In the movie, he went on a road trip with his dad's ashes. He talked to his father, and got to say good bye. He had all of his memories. I wish I didn't have to say goodbye. Out of everything, there is only one thing that I really want. I want her back. I want her to hug me, and tell me she loves me, and that she is proud of me, and to have a mom again. I am so lost and confused in the way that only my mom could help me with, and I think I am stuck lost. I just don't understand it. I miss her so much it kills me. Aunt Shannon and Kathleen and everyone tell me that I am just like her, that she would be proud, blah blah blah. I never got the chance to know if I am like her. Because I never got to know her as anything more than my mommy who made me sandwiches and took me to ballet and made the costumes and did hot lunch at school and yelled at Bethany's mother for being dumb (which is apparently genetic). And how do they know what she would think? She isn't here to say it.
God is supposed to love us. To protect us. Good things happen to those who are good, and the wicked are punished, right? Then why the fuck did such and amazing, genuinely good woman who cared so much for everyone around her suffer like that? And why did I have to watch my mother, my fucking mother, decompose? Forget my name and who I was, lose her hair, her body, her mind, and be swallowed up by something that no God could have ever wished on anyone. Where the hell was God? And what am I supposed to do know? If God isn't watching out for us, then who is? I can't put my faith in Him. I am faithless.
I think I have been talking about her more lately, and I am sorry if that makes everyone uncomfortable, I am sure it must be hard to know what to say or how to react, and I don't blame you. Nor do I want you to pity me or anything like that.
I'm not really sure what brought this all on. I'm sorry...
If you love the people who love you so much it hurts, I'm hurting for you,
~E
Saturday, October 15, 2005
The innocent can never last...
Ear Candy: "Wake Me Up When September Ends" by Green Day
Ok, so kick me for being cliche, but I love this song... It strikes a chord with me for some reason.
Last night was phenomenal. It was perfect. Getting lost has never been so fun. James has never been more amazing, and he only cracked under pressure once. Bitches from Arizona have never been bitchier. Back spasms have never been funnier. Wilco has never sounded more like Coldplay (*cough*). Chessecake has NEVER been tastier, nor more well deserved. The Castro has never been cuter. And I doubt any of us have ever done that much impromptu sight seeing before. The city has never been prettier, or more perfect.
I loved every moment of last night, from the faces being made at passing drivers, to all the getting lost, to the good food with great company, and it feeling like Devin's daddy was with us, he called so much... Dinner is always better at Midnight. James telling us repetedly that last night was the best night ever reiterated the point in my mind. There is nothing I would have rather done last night. And I must say, that was the right number and mix of people. Yay us. (Not that we didn't miss you Megs.)
If you love San Francisco, I love you.
~E
Ok, so kick me for being cliche, but I love this song... It strikes a chord with me for some reason.
Last night was phenomenal. It was perfect. Getting lost has never been so fun. James has never been more amazing, and he only cracked under pressure once. Bitches from Arizona have never been bitchier. Back spasms have never been funnier. Wilco has never sounded more like Coldplay (*cough*). Chessecake has NEVER been tastier, nor more well deserved. The Castro has never been cuter. And I doubt any of us have ever done that much impromptu sight seeing before. The city has never been prettier, or more perfect.
I loved every moment of last night, from the faces being made at passing drivers, to all the getting lost, to the good food with great company, and it feeling like Devin's daddy was with us, he called so much... Dinner is always better at Midnight. James telling us repetedly that last night was the best night ever reiterated the point in my mind. There is nothing I would have rather done last night. And I must say, that was the right number and mix of people. Yay us. (Not that we didn't miss you Megs.)
If you love San Francisco, I love you.
~E
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Hold me like you'll never let me go.
Ear Candy: "Leaving on a Jet Plane" by Ani DiFranco
Typing things is cold. I know that it should be the same as writing things down, but it never is. I have so many thoughts and ideas, and I can pour them through my hand into the pen and watch the pen flood the paper with my heart, and it will feel warm. But when I get to the computer to spill my ideas onto it, I am suddenly empty. Everything bubbles right underneath my surface, and I can’t think. I am frustrated. It is cold and unfeeling. Handwriting is different for everyone, but on a computer, we all type the same. We all have the same fonts; we all use the same spell check. Typing things makes them impersonal. This makes me sad, because if I take the time to write something, then it means something. And how can I convey that if it is all the same? I wish I could hand write a novel; but my handwriting is crap, so perhaps not…
If you have random moments where you feel the need to share your thoughts, I love you.
~E
Typing things is cold. I know that it should be the same as writing things down, but it never is. I have so many thoughts and ideas, and I can pour them through my hand into the pen and watch the pen flood the paper with my heart, and it will feel warm. But when I get to the computer to spill my ideas onto it, I am suddenly empty. Everything bubbles right underneath my surface, and I can’t think. I am frustrated. It is cold and unfeeling. Handwriting is different for everyone, but on a computer, we all type the same. We all have the same fonts; we all use the same spell check. Typing things makes them impersonal. This makes me sad, because if I take the time to write something, then it means something. And how can I convey that if it is all the same? I wish I could hand write a novel; but my handwriting is crap, so perhaps not…
If you have random moments where you feel the need to share your thoughts, I love you.
~E
Sunday, October 02, 2005
I might never reach you...
Ear Candy: "Writing to Reach You" by Travis
I am not saying divorce. I am not saying never again, and I am not saying hate. But I am tired. Tired of all of this. I feel like I am speaking fucking Japanese or something. I am probably a little therapy brat, but I honestly feel like things can be fixed by talking. They can, but only if you are listening. But you hear what you want to hear. And that isn't anything that I am saying. I have been screaming at you, crying at you, whispering, anything and everything, just trying to reach you. To make you hear me. And I don't think you ever will. I loved you. I love you. I would have done anything for you. What we were was real. But you threw it away on the pursuit of something that will never be real. And I can't wait forever for you to figure that all out.
It is not about the boy. I need to make that very clear. Because as far as he goes, you two deserve each other. (And yes, you could have said no. You could have handled it gracefully, or tactfully, or thinking even a little bit... But there is no attention to be gained from doing it that way. Did you get your applause?) It is what he represents, the fact that you always have, and always will put yourself and trivial wants before us. And so often have I given up what I wanted to satisfy you. And I am really not sure how you have repaid me. You abandoned me, knife to the heart style, last year when I needed you more than ever. Sure, maybe I keep throwing it in your face. And yeah, you apologized for that, but we never talked about it. Not really anyway. And it still stings like it was yesterday. It killed me, and you laugh it off like it was nothing. No more trivial than you losing a shirt you borrowed.
You aren't being the girl I know. Why do you need fake love so much? And if you want love, then why are you pushing away all the people who really care about you? And here is what I don't understand: How no matter what, I am always the one who will get hurt. Everytime, you get you get your trophy, and I get my heartache.
I feel like I am crying more than laughing with/because of you now adays... Were things ever good with us, or was it always like this? Last night, I kept remembering bad things that just made me so upset. I want all this bad to go away. But honestly, nothing you say will fix anything. Because your words are empty. You say one thing, and then the next minute you are off doing the exact thing I just told you was killing me.
You will probably read this. You will do what you always do, get defensive and mad and say, "Erin is such a selfish bitch!". Then cry to everyone, try to turn them against me, get your support team behind you to glare at me and not hug me good bye, ignore everything that I am saying, and then tell me you love me, and apologize, tell me how confused and sad and ugly and horrible you are and how you need me. And then nothing will change. Don't get defensive, just open your eyes.
Am I a bitch for posting this? Quite possibly, but it needs to be said. I am not holding this in anymore, it is poison on my soul, and I need to [finally] do something for me.
I quit.
If you heard a fucking word I just said, or even bothered to read this whole thing, I love you.
~E
I am not saying divorce. I am not saying never again, and I am not saying hate. But I am tired. Tired of all of this. I feel like I am speaking fucking Japanese or something. I am probably a little therapy brat, but I honestly feel like things can be fixed by talking. They can, but only if you are listening. But you hear what you want to hear. And that isn't anything that I am saying. I have been screaming at you, crying at you, whispering, anything and everything, just trying to reach you. To make you hear me. And I don't think you ever will. I loved you. I love you. I would have done anything for you. What we were was real. But you threw it away on the pursuit of something that will never be real. And I can't wait forever for you to figure that all out.
It is not about the boy. I need to make that very clear. Because as far as he goes, you two deserve each other. (And yes, you could have said no. You could have handled it gracefully, or tactfully, or thinking even a little bit... But there is no attention to be gained from doing it that way. Did you get your applause?) It is what he represents, the fact that you always have, and always will put yourself and trivial wants before us. And so often have I given up what I wanted to satisfy you. And I am really not sure how you have repaid me. You abandoned me, knife to the heart style, last year when I needed you more than ever. Sure, maybe I keep throwing it in your face. And yeah, you apologized for that, but we never talked about it. Not really anyway. And it still stings like it was yesterday. It killed me, and you laugh it off like it was nothing. No more trivial than you losing a shirt you borrowed.
You aren't being the girl I know. Why do you need fake love so much? And if you want love, then why are you pushing away all the people who really care about you? And here is what I don't understand: How no matter what, I am always the one who will get hurt. Everytime, you get you get your trophy, and I get my heartache.
I feel like I am crying more than laughing with/because of you now adays... Were things ever good with us, or was it always like this? Last night, I kept remembering bad things that just made me so upset. I want all this bad to go away. But honestly, nothing you say will fix anything. Because your words are empty. You say one thing, and then the next minute you are off doing the exact thing I just told you was killing me.
You will probably read this. You will do what you always do, get defensive and mad and say, "Erin is such a selfish bitch!". Then cry to everyone, try to turn them against me, get your support team behind you to glare at me and not hug me good bye, ignore everything that I am saying, and then tell me you love me, and apologize, tell me how confused and sad and ugly and horrible you are and how you need me. And then nothing will change. Don't get defensive, just open your eyes.
Am I a bitch for posting this? Quite possibly, but it needs to be said. I am not holding this in anymore, it is poison on my soul, and I need to [finally] do something for me.
I quit.
If you heard a fucking word I just said, or even bothered to read this whole thing, I love you.
~E
Saturday, September 24, 2005
There's blood in my mouth 'cause I've been biting my tongue all week
Ear Candy: "Portions of Foxes" by Rilo Kiley
I am so smurfing pissed off. And the worst part is, there isn't really any particular reason that I can pinpoint, or anyone I can blame. But what it all basically comes down to is that I am a pushover. I always am the one that backs down, and lets other people get what I want to avvoid a fight. I am always the one who tells myself that I don't deserve to be happy, to get what I want, which is incredibly hypocritical of me to do that, because I am always telling other people that they deserve to be happy. But then why am always the one who ends up sad? The roles in plays (or musicals) and boys, and even when we go shopping and both try on a dress that looks good on both of us, I let her have it. WHY?!
Currently, my biggest issue is with my friend, let's call her Margot*. She is incredibly self righteous. Everything in life that she wants, she assumes that she deserves. And not only that she deserves it, but that she is the only person who is worthy of having it. Everything is always about her, whether or not it actually is. I can't actually remember the last time my opinion counted for smurf, or that I even finished a smurfing sentence without her either cutting me off or start fidgeting with the anticipation of having her turn to hear herself talk while saying pretty much nothing. She assumes that she is always the leader of everything, that she is always the best, and she makes herself a part of things that she has no business being a part of. And, on the very slim off chance that she is rooting for someone in lip service, she will then procede to turn around and stab them in the back, if not directly. And the worst part of all, she will tell you the entire time how she is so unworthy, how you are so much better, even though she struts around like she is god's gift to mankind. SMURF THAT.
I have had a thing for Peter* on and off for the better part of five years. And I have watched him hook up with [repetedly], date, and hurt many friends of mine, all of whom [repetedly] assured me that my time would come, that I was so pretty and so smart, and so wonderful and how could he not see that? Apparently, very easily. And dear, DEAR Margot herself was the front runner on the most recent "Oh my God, you guys are totally perfect for each other, it would totally happen" campaign, has once again, pulled some classic Margot action, and made it all about her. Telling Peter to his face how much she likes him, how much she wanted to be with him, and apparently, he would want to be with her too, were he to be in any sort of relationshippy place. WAIT. HOLD THE SMURFING PHONES. WHAT?!?! Was she not just telling me that she was totally rooting for me? Bull smurfing smurf if you ask me.
Where is my vindication? Is there no smurfing justice in this world? I think I cannow definitively say that I know what it feels like to be kharmically smurf slapped by a six-armed goddess. I am seriously just getting incredibly tired of everyone letting her have her way. Her dreams; her boys; her roles; her songs; her choice of what we listen to in the car, even if I want to hear something else, or hatethe song she has picked. Does anyone care about my vote? SMURF NO!
And the worst part? I get labled the insensitive bitchy"bad friend" for thinking any of this. It is getting really hard to love people when you are freezing your ass off in their shadow and they just borrowed your sweatshirt.
If you have lent me a sweatshirt in the last 18 months, I love you.
~E (who shall, heretoafter be referred to as Anne Frank. No Jew comments, please. Mother smurfers...)
I am so smurfing pissed off. And the worst part is, there isn't really any particular reason that I can pinpoint, or anyone I can blame. But what it all basically comes down to is that I am a pushover. I always am the one that backs down, and lets other people get what I want to avvoid a fight. I am always the one who tells myself that I don't deserve to be happy, to get what I want, which is incredibly hypocritical of me to do that, because I am always telling other people that they deserve to be happy. But then why am always the one who ends up sad? The roles in plays (or musicals) and boys, and even when we go shopping and both try on a dress that looks good on both of us, I let her have it. WHY?!
Currently, my biggest issue is with my friend, let's call her Margot*. She is incredibly self righteous. Everything in life that she wants, she assumes that she deserves. And not only that she deserves it, but that she is the only person who is worthy of having it. Everything is always about her, whether or not it actually is. I can't actually remember the last time my opinion counted for smurf, or that I even finished a smurfing sentence without her either cutting me off or start fidgeting with the anticipation of having her turn to hear herself talk while saying pretty much nothing. She assumes that she is always the leader of everything, that she is always the best, and she makes herself a part of things that she has no business being a part of. And, on the very slim off chance that she is rooting for someone in lip service, she will then procede to turn around and stab them in the back, if not directly. And the worst part of all, she will tell you the entire time how she is so unworthy, how you are so much better, even though she struts around like she is god's gift to mankind. SMURF THAT.
I have had a thing for Peter* on and off for the better part of five years. And I have watched him hook up with [repetedly], date, and hurt many friends of mine, all of whom [repetedly] assured me that my time would come, that I was so pretty and so smart, and so wonderful and how could he not see that? Apparently, very easily. And dear, DEAR Margot herself was the front runner on the most recent "Oh my God, you guys are totally perfect for each other, it would totally happen" campaign, has once again, pulled some classic Margot action, and made it all about her. Telling Peter to his face how much she likes him, how much she wanted to be with him, and apparently, he would want to be with her too, were he to be in any sort of relationshippy place. WAIT. HOLD THE SMURFING PHONES. WHAT?!?! Was she not just telling me that she was totally rooting for me? Bull smurfing smurf if you ask me.
Where is my vindication? Is there no smurfing justice in this world? I think I cannow definitively say that I know what it feels like to be kharmically smurf slapped by a six-armed goddess. I am seriously just getting incredibly tired of everyone letting her have her way. Her dreams; her boys; her roles; her songs; her choice of what we listen to in the car, even if I want to hear something else, or hatethe song she has picked. Does anyone care about my vote? SMURF NO!
And the worst part? I get labled the insensitive bitchy"bad friend" for thinking any of this. It is getting really hard to love people when you are freezing your ass off in their shadow and they just borrowed your sweatshirt.
If you have lent me a sweatshirt in the last 18 months, I love you.
~E (who shall, heretoafter be referred to as Anne Frank. No Jew comments, please. Mother smurfers...)
Monday, September 12, 2005
Could we please be objective?
Ear Candy: "Seeing Other People" by Belle and Sebastian
Did you miss me? I haven't written anything in so long, I doubt anyone still even reads this. So many times I have had so much to say, and I had every intention of sitting down and pouring my heart and mind into my key board, but each time would sit down with a purpose and get up not quite remembering what that purpose was.
I hate those posts that just summariaze life, because if you really were so curious about my life, I suppose you could just pick up the phone and call me. I am finding friends in the strangest of places, hands reaching out to me from places I would not have forseen. And then there are the old friends who I feel like I have lost (or maybe never had?) And my heart strings are being fired up in the starangest, and oldest of places. Isn't it funny how you can bury something into your heart and forget about it, seemingly having destroyed it, and then months later it can rear its ugly head? I don't think I will ever understand my own emotions. And I don't think I would ever want to.
People are so surprising. I find out new things about the people I thought I knew at every turn in the road. Dimensions make me love people more. And isn't it strange and funny how people take things and call them their own, and only you know the truth? When suddenly you become a fallower of your own ideas? That doesn't sound so bad, but I hate being told what I thought...
I am suddenly overcome with a paniced feeling, like I have no future, like there is nothing for me after high school, and maybe I am not so smart after all? What happens when I am sitting there with a pile of seven letters and none of them want me? What then? What happens when there is no one who wants me?
If you love me, I love you.
~E
Did you miss me? I haven't written anything in so long, I doubt anyone still even reads this. So many times I have had so much to say, and I had every intention of sitting down and pouring my heart and mind into my key board, but each time would sit down with a purpose and get up not quite remembering what that purpose was.
I hate those posts that just summariaze life, because if you really were so curious about my life, I suppose you could just pick up the phone and call me. I am finding friends in the strangest of places, hands reaching out to me from places I would not have forseen. And then there are the old friends who I feel like I have lost (or maybe never had?) And my heart strings are being fired up in the starangest, and oldest of places. Isn't it funny how you can bury something into your heart and forget about it, seemingly having destroyed it, and then months later it can rear its ugly head? I don't think I will ever understand my own emotions. And I don't think I would ever want to.
People are so surprising. I find out new things about the people I thought I knew at every turn in the road. Dimensions make me love people more. And isn't it strange and funny how people take things and call them their own, and only you know the truth? When suddenly you become a fallower of your own ideas? That doesn't sound so bad, but I hate being told what I thought...
I am suddenly overcome with a paniced feeling, like I have no future, like there is nothing for me after high school, and maybe I am not so smart after all? What happens when I am sitting there with a pile of seven letters and none of them want me? What then? What happens when there is no one who wants me?
If you love me, I love you.
~E
Thursday, July 14, 2005
I'll be alright, as long as you stay with me...
Ear Candy: "Stay With Me (Brass Bed)" by Josh Gracin
Tonight was the best, the worst, the most... I can't even describe it. Tonight was the worst I have felt in a very long time, the first time in seemingly forever I have cried... At least about her... I love/need/hate/miss her more than anything. And I don't talk about it, or think about it, but it is there. And tonight I felt it. And I cried. And then my angel was there.
Tonight was seven years. Seven years of crying, laughing, loving, hating, boys, girls, fighting, living. Seven years that I couldn't have done and wouldn't have loved if I hadn't had my angel with me. Claire Bear, you are my everything. My best friend, my rock, my sense of humor, my smile in the morning (especially mornings where I wake up because you are jumping on me.) my sister. I needed you, you were there. I knew you would be, because you always are. You always have been. And I hope you always will be.
Here's to being 40 with better hair than our moms at 40, and for never having to fight Spiderman. Here's to tanning now and buying new skin later. Here's to F*R*I*E*N*D*S and friends. Here's to "hanky" and "hankies" and sweet sweet heroine coursing through our veins when we're eighty. And jumping in front of buses while most certainly not wearing diapers.
I love you. You saved me yet again. We win at life.
I love you girlee! You are delightfully rhuddabomb. TURTLE POWER!
~E
Tonight was the best, the worst, the most... I can't even describe it. Tonight was the worst I have felt in a very long time, the first time in seemingly forever I have cried... At least about her... I love/need/hate/miss her more than anything. And I don't talk about it, or think about it, but it is there. And tonight I felt it. And I cried. And then my angel was there.
Tonight was seven years. Seven years of crying, laughing, loving, hating, boys, girls, fighting, living. Seven years that I couldn't have done and wouldn't have loved if I hadn't had my angel with me. Claire Bear, you are my everything. My best friend, my rock, my sense of humor, my smile in the morning (especially mornings where I wake up because you are jumping on me.) my sister. I needed you, you were there. I knew you would be, because you always are. You always have been. And I hope you always will be.
Here's to being 40 with better hair than our moms at 40, and for never having to fight Spiderman. Here's to tanning now and buying new skin later. Here's to F*R*I*E*N*D*S and friends. Here's to "hanky" and "hankies" and sweet sweet heroine coursing through our veins when we're eighty. And jumping in front of buses while most certainly not wearing diapers.
I love you. You saved me yet again. We win at life.
I love you girlee! You are delightfully rhuddabomb. TURTLE POWER!
~E
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
If you need to fall apart, I can mend your broken heart.
Ear Candy: "Crash and Burn" by Savage Garden
... and then I floated home on a cloud.
Crush definitely back in the ring, fists a' flyin'. Who was I kidding? I was never over it.
If you need to fall apart, I can mend a broken heart. And I love you.
~E
... and then I floated home on a cloud.
Crush definitely back in the ring, fists a' flyin'. Who was I kidding? I was never over it.
If you need to fall apart, I can mend a broken heart. And I love you.
~E
Sunday, June 12, 2005
Put the knife back in the medicine cabinet
Ear Candy: "Nine Things Everybody Knows" by Q and not U
I am sad/happy/excited/confused. First off, boys who have girlfriends should not kiss girls who are not their girlfriends. It is not nice to third party girl. But whatever...
Friday was the last day of school, which means that as of 12:12 Friday, I am a SENIOR!!!!! I am so excited for next year. Senior year is the best year of your life, apparently, and I need a wonderful year after this one... I was so sad that all my seniors are leaving, but Friday night as I watched them all graduate, I was brimming with pride, and I couldn't stop smiling. Geez, I am worse than the Country Club grandma I was sitting next to... She would laugh everytime we cheered for someone. But it is summer now, and i have three months with them all (well, one with Shane, who I am going to miss so much!!) and that is yay.
Ear Candy: "Love Rhymes with Hideous Car Wreck" by the Blood Brothers
Went to Steffie's grad party this afternoon, which was nice because I got to hang out with everyone. Archie was home, and so was Nani. I took an unusually large amount of shit today, and some on very sensitive subjects. I laugh about it, but honestly, I am not ok with it. There are certain people who really don't know when to quit. And I am tired of it. Yes, I have a big nose, but accept it and fucking move on, it is REALLY not that funny. The same old jokes are growing very tiresome, and I am tired of laughing like I think it is funny. It feels like lying. I realize that most people continue to joke because it prevents them from being the center of the mockery, but why does it have to be there at all? Is it impossible to be friends with someone and not be mean to them? There is a point where it stops being funny.
what rhymes with pity?
I don't want this to be a big deal, I don't want drama, and I don't need another Canadian dinner. But seriously, I can only have so much grace under pressure before I just get tired of it!
Brianna: If you are reading this, I miss you like crazy. And you owe me tea.
If you aren't being an asshole, I love you.
~E
I am sad/happy/excited/confused. First off, boys who have girlfriends should not kiss girls who are not their girlfriends. It is not nice to third party girl. But whatever...
Friday was the last day of school, which means that as of 12:12 Friday, I am a SENIOR!!!!! I am so excited for next year. Senior year is the best year of your life, apparently, and I need a wonderful year after this one... I was so sad that all my seniors are leaving, but Friday night as I watched them all graduate, I was brimming with pride, and I couldn't stop smiling. Geez, I am worse than the Country Club grandma I was sitting next to... She would laugh everytime we cheered for someone. But it is summer now, and i have three months with them all (well, one with Shane, who I am going to miss so much!!) and that is yay.
Ear Candy: "Love Rhymes with Hideous Car Wreck" by the Blood Brothers
Went to Steffie's grad party this afternoon, which was nice because I got to hang out with everyone. Archie was home, and so was Nani. I took an unusually large amount of shit today, and some on very sensitive subjects. I laugh about it, but honestly, I am not ok with it. There are certain people who really don't know when to quit. And I am tired of it. Yes, I have a big nose, but accept it and fucking move on, it is REALLY not that funny. The same old jokes are growing very tiresome, and I am tired of laughing like I think it is funny. It feels like lying. I realize that most people continue to joke because it prevents them from being the center of the mockery, but why does it have to be there at all? Is it impossible to be friends with someone and not be mean to them? There is a point where it stops being funny.
what rhymes with pity?
I don't want this to be a big deal, I don't want drama, and I don't need another Canadian dinner. But seriously, I can only have so much grace under pressure before I just get tired of it!
Brianna: If you are reading this, I miss you like crazy. And you owe me tea.
If you aren't being an asshole, I love you.
~E
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Going to the beach...
Ear Candy: xsurfx by Heckacopter
Does it make me groupie if I am a. listening to their album, and 2. if it automatically puts me into a better mood? Whatever, groupie or otherwise, I like that they are friends of mine, and it is fun to dance to.
No, this is not a fanatical "Oh my god, I love Ethan and Dillon SOOOOOOO much!!!! They are so fucking hot!!!111!!one!! lolzies!!" entry.
I am so fucking ready for school to be over, but I am really sad to say goodbye to all my seniors. I know that we will, for the most part, still be friends. But it will be weird being at Montgomery without you all. Oh well, I get to go to graduation, so that will be a good time for me to get to cry like a pathetic little child and shamelessly drape myself over all of you whilest begging for you not to leave me... Perhaps that is a dramatization.
I don't think there is much of a point to this. Eeew, icky ex-boyfriend is talking to me. Does he think we're friends or something? He must have missed the memo... And who could have predicted that he is still a pompous ass hole?! (*drowns in pool of own sarcasm*)
Job applications are calling my name... Call me, I'm boreddddd!
If you aren't being hounded by creepy ex's, I love you. And i'm jealous.
~E
Does it make me groupie if I am a. listening to their album, and 2. if it automatically puts me into a better mood? Whatever, groupie or otherwise, I like that they are friends of mine, and it is fun to dance to.
No, this is not a fanatical "Oh my god, I love Ethan and Dillon SOOOOOOO much!!!! They are so fucking hot!!!111!!one!! lolzies!!" entry.
I am so fucking ready for school to be over, but I am really sad to say goodbye to all my seniors. I know that we will, for the most part, still be friends. But it will be weird being at Montgomery without you all. Oh well, I get to go to graduation, so that will be a good time for me to get to cry like a pathetic little child and shamelessly drape myself over all of you whilest begging for you not to leave me... Perhaps that is a dramatization.
I don't think there is much of a point to this. Eeew, icky ex-boyfriend is talking to me. Does he think we're friends or something? He must have missed the memo... And who could have predicted that he is still a pompous ass hole?! (*drowns in pool of own sarcasm*)
Job applications are calling my name... Call me, I'm boreddddd!
If you aren't being hounded by creepy ex's, I love you. And i'm jealous.
~E
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