An angry day

I'm thinking about Atlas and Rachel and what that means. I'm thinking about lust and like and unconditional love and which one fits with which person in my mind. I'm trying to get myself to stop pressing the backspace buttong. I'm just going to let my mistakes happen. that's just so hard all you can think about is what a fuck up uyou must be if you're feeling this emotional about such tlittle things. Seriously.

I wish people would just fucking tell the truth more often. People, being Atlas. I wish he would stop trying to fucking please everyone else and just tell people how he really feels. I wish he would admit if I'm annoying him right now, or if he's worried about something someone's doing. JUST PLEASE FUCKING SPEAK UP. It's okay. Everyone will still just as much as they otherwise would. It will feel good too, I promise. No one's ever going to ask you what you want if they're so used to you never admiting what you want anyway.

And other people (Rachel, Peter, and probably more) just need to stop being fucking fourteen. Sex isn't (usually) funny. Neither is child molestation or inscest. Just shut up and stop laughing. While we're on the topic of Rachel, let me just say this: You feel so incredibly fake to me, so plastic. It drives me crazy. You're constantly shanging who you are and what you think simply so that you can be freids with everyone. It's not worth it. That's why I can only really tolerate you in small doses. I'm sorry, I try to like you.

This originally came from my MySpace blog (Will you design the door to my mind?)

I had a bad day.
DISCLAIMER: The sad thing about this system is (I think I addressed this in my last blog) that I'm only inclined to blog on a bad day. So, you only really see one side of me,when there are an infinite amount to see. Isn't that unfortunate? So that's why you shouldn't judge someone (me) on their blogs (these).
I am okay with you judging me, it's a human reflex. Just please meet me first.

Today, I had a bad day, and I'm not quite sure how I did that. In this blog, I will brainstorm. I'm a big fan of brainstorming.
-- I feel shaky about everyone that I'm attached to right now, which is a really draining way to feel. All of them are, simply put, unstable relationships. Some of them live in completely different parts of the country (literallly), and other just seem to live in different parts of my world (metaphorically). Can't you all just move here, with me? It's safe here, and very pretty. The tap water tastes good, and most things are reasonably priced.
-- My back hurts a lot, plain and simple.
-- I don't have much of a garden. My sage is dying.
-- I don't have any good hobbies. I wish I had some kind of physical outlet. Then maybe everything would be okay.
-- Summer's almost over. That hurts just thinking about it. I'm not ready to fill my academic mind, and I'm not ready to see so many people in one hallway. I could just get there late?

I want to just come right out and tell everyone the specifics of what's on my mind, but I don't quite have that kind of courage. Instead, I've made some anagrams.
These are anagrams for the names of people that are at the forefront of my mind right now:
Eh, cold moms ahead
...and...
A lad smooched meh
Both of those are shockingly appropriate. (They're the same letters, I just couldn't decide which one I wanted to share, so I put them both up.)
These are anagrams for the things I want right now. (Actually in list form this time. Separate wants have separate anagrams.):
-A rose hunt? Oh, risky.
-Alien connector

That's all for now.

What I feel

I feel like making things.
I would love to make things. making things makes I feel yellow.
I feel yellow too?
Can yellow be a feeling?
Good question. Stop biting -- Good. Now I feel better. Stop for good.
No fucking way.
I'm addicted to it.
Nails are like my comfort food.
Your nails are my metal.

We lost stuff here.
Now I feel sad.
EVEN MORE SAD ABOUT CHERRIES!
Why mourn them? Rejoice in the passing on of the cherry!
It can be like a cherry wake.
A rebirth of the cherry soul?
Exactly.
I feel it. I can dig. YES.
Now I envision the molecules of what used to be cherry floating up into our atmosphere.
It's a cherrysphere!
What silly words those are.
Sph---...
aphogus.
Sphahogus?
No, sphaphogus.
It sounds yiddish.
OH NO!!!! I forgot wahat I was going to say.
Sad day. Instead, I'll bring up another topic of interest: Snow White and the Seven Dwarves.
Um. Lumpy, moe, larry, joe, ralph, steven, and bob.
Did you just make those up?
WOW!!!
Now I'm just too impressed to carry on with this thread. Time to publish this fucker.

Scared much?

I AM SO MORTIFIED.

This might have been stupider than giving you my notebook, since this time it's all about you. I don't know what the fuck I was thinking. Of course, now I regret it, but can't do much about that now, except put a tracker on the website to see if you ever actually look at it. I won't do that either. I guess I'll jst assume that at some point you do.

What the fuck was I thinking?
Well now I guess I'll just summarize, just in case you get tired of reading:

13 Mars --- Pretty much sums up how I was feeling on and off since last December (though not so much since then, which is obvious by the lack of blogging). I guess now you know that a month ago I sent an e-mail saying that you were hot. That's mortifying in itself.
12 Mars --- This one is really stupid, and you're not mentioned at all, so don't go trying to find any hidden meaning. It's just me ranting about Ashland.
30 Janvier --- I had some intuitive feeling that you would read this, and so I wrote this letter to you.
24 Janvier --- This was just rambling. If you're bored at this point, don't bother. It's the impromptu story of how I would write French/English/Tibetan (which isn't really a language) books if I had a parachute.
21 Janvier --- This is about Kay Sackinger, not you, in case you were wondering.
20 Janvier --- An intro, and a list of my favorite people.

I know that this is a really long preface, but I'm pretty embarrassed, and I don't really want you to think that all I write about is you, because that was the whole point of this log, because I didn't want to talk to people about it, and I thought my notebook deserved more variety. So this is pretty in accurate, but it obviously served it's purpose.

Thing is, I'm not quite put together right now, so ummmmm... Take with Grains of salt?

But what for?

What am I doing? I was moving so quickly, so efficiently, until now. My clock is ticking backwards, my distractions are wearing off. I fill my life up to forget for a while. I work so hard at distracting myself from the inevitable facts: the only true vulnerability that I have ever trusted was gone. After one day, it was gone. She was gone. I just kept telling myself that she would be back, and filling up my life with anything that helped other people. Now, it's almost as if I hold a full-time activist position, without anytime for self consideration.
But I'm remembering. I'm remembering that comfort that I had never felt before. I'm remembering the love I feel, and the ease at which we existed in the same space and time. Most of all, I remember her incredible patience with me, like no one else I had ever experienced. She waited paitently while I found the right words for some of what I wanted to say to the world. She was the only person that I have ever met that understood so well how my mind worked, and why it works this way. My hope is that she too, felt the same way, though I'm starting to doubt it.

Now what? I've come up with new distractions, but how much does that really help, and for how long? It's as if I'm going back to seventh grade, looking up pictures of Katherine Moenning and Kate Winslet on Google. This is stupid.


This is something else stupid -- An e-mail I sent to Isaac about Lousa's new onine pictures, which he asked me questions about. So here:

Fuck. Louisa. I KNOW! See, I've inspected then quite a bit. The long hair one is super old, because her lebret peircing closed up. The other one is really recent, because all of her scars look completely faded (though she's probably wearing make up), and she must have cut her hair again (thank God). But fuck, she's HOT!
Fuck.
Fuck.
I think I know that she's moved. Now, she lives by seven corners, I think. I have no fucking clue, but I'm almost positive that it is without Ruby, and I can assure you that she has most definitely not contacted me. I think moving on might be my best bet. Fuck. I was kind of hoping that it wouldn't come to this so abruptly.

I'm forgetting about Kendra for a while. I think I just need to sit around and be distracted. Thanks anyway.

Names changed for insecurity's sake.

Isaac,

This is stupid and fucked up. To give you any idea, I need to start from the beginning: Last year, in February.
Matthew and I were on the rocks. My first real realtionship was falling apart after two and a half years.
March, Last year: Ashland trip is coming up. I've gone to ashland every year, and this year would be no exception, or so I thought. Other people got paperwork turned in before me, I'm turned away from going to Ashland, the thing that I expected to save my relationship.
May, Last year: Ashland happens. Matthew goes and cheats on me, down hill from there. Some how it wasn't until June (when he had cheated on me with two other girls in addition) that we actually broke up. (What were we thinking?)

I AM DETERMINED TO GET TO ASHLAND THIS YEAR.

This February: I get the forms the fist day, and get everything signed by the end of the week. My parents start saving up money for me, and I am accepted for a half scholarship. In going to get my teacher's signatures, they inform me that I need to wait until third trimester starts, as Ashland takes place in third trimester. It makes sense, so I decide to wait.
Last Friday: I over hear Matthew on the bus going home saying that one of his stupid friends was turned away from Ashland because Wednesday was the deadline. This can't be right. I write out a very thoughtful few paragraphs explaining why I deserve to go over the weekend, and my mom aggrees to give me the money straight up.
TODAY: I go to Jan (teacher in charge of Ashland). No available spots. I tell her the whole story, how my life has just beengoing downhill for months, and the best ican get is 6th on the waiting list. No one EVER drops out of Ashland. Theres no way I can go. I'm not going to get to see the five plays, despite the fact that most of the other people going have absolutely no appreciation for theater whatsoever, and they would be terrible MLC representatives.

I have my head on a desk in my science room, couting the seconds until I can just go to sleep tonight. Elliot thinks he's helping by hugging me, but he's not. My Anatomy and Physiology teacher, Sarah, is wearing the same thing she wears everyday, and she has her hair tied back just the same. I am so pissed off, and all I get is the static looks from strangers, or the sympathetic (but more pathetic) looks froom students, and the careless looks from teachers. I miss Louisa a lot.

I can't believe I'm fucking sending you this. No judgements, and just know that I'm not quite myself right now. See, I'm even skipping class. I haven't done this since seventh grade (at least). Fuck.

-K

Hey you.

I didn't think you would actually look at this, it's almost scoffable. I have a blog? I can see that going through your mind, but I trust you to avoid the judgements as best you can.
Yasmyne and Nadia Garver miss you, and so do I. I often walk to that corner that always smells like cigarettes, expecting to maybe find a comfort in your scent, but unfortunately, I don't think anyone smokes your brand. Even if they did, they would still be missing that musky citrus.
Really, though, I'm doing just fine. Life has been a bit uneventful, but full of interesting tidbits about heads, and latin roots, and all that other stuff that I seem to find fascinating. The most fascinating part, by far, has been what I have learned about myself in the past 8 months or so, due, in part, to you. I wish I had the words to thank you. Like I said, though, I also give myself much credit for this. I don't know if it's visible to anyone else yet, but my body is changing, which hasn't happened to me in many years. I think my voice is changing too. I think I'm actually starting to feel good about residing in this flesh, something I never thought I could acomplish, as I was always so detached from my human skin. Call it blossoming if you want, but I just call it security. Blossoming would be something sporatic, but I think this is something constant, even if I don't see it everyday. But really, you might be surprised at how self-sustaining (for lack of a better term) I naturally am. Comfort has been coming easily, even without emotional vulnerability.
On a completely different note, I've started translating that French song, and so far, I know the chorus and the first line. I'm much better with this stuff than I was the first time you tried. The chorus says, "I have one stupid smile on my face! (J'ai un... Sourire... Stupide... Sur mon... Visage!)" and the first line is, "I wanted clearness. (J'ai veux nettete)" I'll find some way to communicate it to you when I finish.
So let me tell you about my relationship with The L Word (If you've never seen it, it's about the female version of Queer as Folk). Kristen and Julie hold "L Word parties" every Sunday the watch the episode of the week, and to spend dinner with people that they wouldn't otherwise see. Despite the fact that I don't hold much intrest in the TV show itself, I absolutely love these nights because it means talking to Julie, who is the closest (besides yourself) that I've come to finding someone that understands my mind. I've started trying to convince those around me that I actually enjoy watching this show, it's ridiculous. I've even developed a superficial celebrity crush (if you've ever seen the show, I'm sure you can guess who that would be).
Hopefullly we will talk again soon, and we can talk about something besides flax seed oatmeal. Hope unschooling is going well also.

... Oh My God, I can't believe I just fucking wrote this and put it on the fucking internet. This is so un-me. I'm not usually at all comfortable with these things. I can't believe I fucking published this. I'm am so glad that no one (except you) actually reads this piece of shit.