meaningless stuff

july is almost over.
i've written a few new songs.
every morning at 6 am, give or take, i am still finding myself awake, although i don't need to be.
i'm picking back up old bad habits.
and losing one or two.
i've been feeling really weird at lately; i hope that it slid under the radar for most people.
i'm feeling better now, though.
i haven't finished my RA homework, or that book i was supposed to read.
that's what next week is for.
only two more days of work.
i take my driver's test saturday; i'm not afraid to drive anymore, and that's kind of a big deal.

that's all i've got, really.

oh, other than that i'm thinking of changing the name of the blog. this blog is old, but i want to keep it, and i think a new name would fit today's times much better than the one i picked...wow, has it been almost two years? almost two years ago.


another season

i found this from months ago, back when school was in session and snow was melting.
it makes me wonder what i was feeling at the time, because i can't quite seem to recreate that emotion.

my mouth tastes sweet inside itself i blame
you and your lingering impressions of softness
last tuesday’s oddly flavored bubble gum
the concept of desire slanted sideways and
whatever it was i did yesterday to make me feel so good

(i wish i knew when, date-wise, i had written this. because then maybe i would know what the heck i was talking about, at least a little.)



it's 11:48, i am listening to music, and i feel like writing a letter to someone.
i want to handwrite something beautiful, fold it in thirds, slide it into an envelope, stick on a stamp, put it in the mail, and have it arrive at a friend's house to their joy, and to receive a lovely handwritten letter back.
in this world, however, it seems that letter-writing is a lost art. and, sadly, i think i may have given up on it as well. instant gratification is our new art.

but i do want to write a letter, and so i will write it to you, my reader, as if i had written you a real letter.

dear friend,
how are you? i think about you often. i find it hard not to, in fact; but then again, i think about a lot of people a lot of the time. (don't think this does not mean you are special. of course you are special. there are plenty of people that i forget about, as sad as that is.) it makes me wonder how often you may think of me, or if you think of me at all. it's fine either way, really. some people are forgetters and some are not. i do not blame you either way. and if you have forgotten me, i am sure there is someone out there who may allow me to take a stroll through their thoughts every once in awhile.
i am writing you just to talk. i could call you, i guess, or contact you in some other manner, but i wanted to write you a letter. i wanted you to see my bad penmanship and understand that i tried to make it better for your sake. i wanted you to see my ambition at keeping my writing legible fail towards the end of the letter. i wanted you to know that i at least tried. i also wanted you to feel connected to me in the way that you can hear my voice in your head right now, and i am not even speaking. letters are sort of odd in that way, the way that they carry people on paper, but i don't mind it all. i find it rather pretty.
i was going to write you a poem, but i ran out of nice little thoughts for you. i instead present you with a page full of prose.
have you read any good books lately? i made a list the other day of all the books i'd like to read in the next year, and it's quite long. there are about twenty at this point, and i'm sure i'll add more. i'm partially through about four or five right now, but it seems i never finish anything. i hope your literary life is faring better than mine.
i've been a bit caught up in working and living and trying to get my world organized for moving, so i apologize if our correspondence has been scarce. but please write back. i promise i won't let you fall to the side. it's sad when a dear friend such as yourself gets lost in the absurdity that is daily living. so keep in touch.
all my love.


pass through

i'm feeling a sort of strange, electrical inspiration. emotions always grip me best when everyone's asleep and i am finding my way around alone for the first time. i'm going to freewrite for you, in a way i haven't before. i'm not even going to think, just write.

blinking lights are here and they make me think of lighthouses. but i was not dreaming, no, i was not dreaming when i told you that i think about light a great deal. i wonder about its properties, and i also wonder how it makes it possible for me to see you. it is an amazing thing, my ability to see you. light plays no role in my ability to touch you, which i know doesn't happen often, and that's because my inhibitions play the greatest role. you know it, too, but that is how people work for me. i flinch, but the prospect is beautiful. there is a fan above my head making me cold, but it is hot and i am confused. the desert is just full of emptiness, but i'd love to drive through it with a fast car. really fast. i mean, so fast that your nose would feel like it is making a race to the very back of your brain and you are racing the cheetahs yourself.

grow me plants that are beautiful beyond beauty, green beyond green. i want technicolor. you don't have to if you don't want to, i guess. i could water them on my ownsome, by my lonesome. and i will be lonely, oh i will be lonely, and you will be miles away, lonely. two lonely people far away from each other. that is how the world will keep us, how life will keep us, forever. in its little hands, we will be in separate palms, never close enough to brush palms ourselves. maybe we will see each other across the divide, but i'm not sure if yelling will be an affective form of communication.

i want to cry, a lot of the time. to be wrapped up in tears. it's so human, so vulnerable, so emotional and beautiful in its own way. i want to write a song that makes people cry. because crying feels good. feeling sad feels good, in its odd way, and i'm sure you know what i'm talking about. sometimes, it is nice to be able to fall down into the deepest parts of yourself that you don't even want to talk about. sometimes it feels good to be bare and naked and complete with the knowledge that you have nothing to hide. and i don't. i have nothing to hide, except for what i'm hiding behind. there's so much to tell you, so much to tell you that you already know.


i sang, "oh."

two songs by the mountain goats you might need in your life:

get lonely
woke up new

in fact, i just got the album, and i got all emotionally connected with it tonight, and would recommend the whole thing to you if you're feeling ambitious.

i made myself "the lying bookshelf reading list" to attempt to read most of the books i have on my shelves so i am made an honest woman, and there are 17 books that i'd like to finish in the next year...i wonder if that's even plausible. i buy too many books that i may never read.

i'm really, really tired. i made bad sleep decisions, but since when is that news to you guys?

three more weeks until moving time...holy dang.


summer's fading

i will note from the beginning that my blog gets labeled "emo" at times.
i am a teenager, and this is a blog.
be thankful i am not complaining about petty drama and whining about my lack of a significant other.
things could be a lot worse, people.

and with that, i begin to write.

i'm getting really scared about life. the acknowledgement of life after college was sort of a silly idea floating around in my head for awhile, but today i had to look it in the eye. it's going to happen. i am in the part of my life that is supposed to prepare me for a real job and real relationships and owning furniture and living by myself. mortgage is such a scary word. commitment is such a scary word. settling down is a horrifying phrase. i fully understand that i am a few years away from that reality, but i can't help but fear it. i feel severely underprepared.
"now i'm older, gotta get up, clean the place."

next year is going to be the most stressful year of my life so far.
i will have the RA commitment, 18-19 hours of classwork, preparations for transferring, my 18th birthday (which is a few stressors in one), my good friends all living in different cities, and so many other things. i will stand here and say now that things will get bad next year. i am going to get depressed, and moody, and sad. but that is not to say that things cannot also be good. i have full faith in the world to be good, and i will also stand here and say now that next year is going to hold a lot of ups and downs.
truth be told, i am so scared of the downs. i know what i am capable of, and i know i am capable of sinking pretty far down. i'm capable of pulling myself up, as well, but i can't predict what i'm going to do in those moments i am unprepared for. i'm so shaken up right now, who knows where i'll be then. i can only hope my newfound confidence can carry me through, and maybe the shoulders of new friends.

i have three weeks to get my shit together.
i'm so scared.


in the garden

they have wifi in the parks here.

i made a demo; tomorrow is my day to tour campus; a duck is yelling at me to give it bread.

wish me luck.
and call me sometime.


phone anxiety

i keep thinking i'll call you, and then i don't, for various reasons.
i don't forget about you, promise.

(you know who you are.)


day one

i found an old notebook, and some things i like in it.

freewriting will come back in style.

you've got to carry me to the new land to the land of blue oysters and orange smiles you've got to carry me over the river into a sea of tears that will get our socks wet every time you've got to carry your burdens once you've set me down and you've got to carry them further that i'd ever ask you to carry me.
you've got to carry me down to the edge of sleep and whisper me into the water - i will follow your soft breath into the deep blue ocean of close-eyed visions.

if you carry me on your shoulders i will feel like i am the owner of a new standpoint, a new visionary world. i will feel youthful and joyful and untouchable.
if you carry me in your arms i will feel closest to your heart, with the ability to hear it when it sings. i will feel trusted and yet, for your sake, vulnerable.
if you carry me in your mind i will feel timeless and loved. you will have room on your shoulders and in your arms and in your hands for what you will, but to keep me in your mind although i am not in your arms is to hold me in an always fashion.

(i leave for tennessee this week, and i sincerely hope that they like me.)