Mar
24

One Art

What are the repercussions of staying off my medication? It feels strange to call it that; it’s a word I associate with pills someone takes when they are physically ill.

Strangely, I’m smiling up at the ceiling right now. A memory just came to mind. The walls to my bedroom used to be a dark purple color, and I remember sitting on the cold marble floor, with a blood-stained towel in my hand. My mother and I had just argued, and fought, I guess is the appropriate word. I think my lips were bleeding, or something like that. The pain was overwhelming, but not really in a physical way. And for all that pain, I couldn’t cry. And I couldn’t call anyone to explain in words what that moment in time felt like.

All I have are distant memories that don’t seem to belong to my life.

The puzzle pieces don’t fit. How did I become who I am now? There are such sharply contrasting memories in my mind. My mother, my brother, and I at Sea World for Easter three years ago. Days in which I sat in my room all alone, and in the dark, with a razor in my hand, cutting myself. Standing outside the house waiting for one of my aunts to pick me up because my mom kicked me out. Having a conversation with Brian at an iHop about what I’m going to do to improve my relationship with my mother. Showing Elizabeth and Jean a bruise my mother gave me, telling someone for the first time ever that I had problems. Sitting in my room with a knife in my hand at a very early age, thinking I could use that to slit my wrists. Getting strapped onto a gurney to be hospitalized. My US History teacher from 5th grade, Mrs. Bright, asking me why I used my mother’s last name instead of my father’s. Disneyland with the most amazing people in the world 11th grade. Shopping with Lisa and Jessika. Passing a note to Paula in Honors Bio that one day in 9th grade after she mentioned that she also web-designs. And right now, typing this entry with mixed feelings.

As stupid as this sounds, who am I?

I feel like here I am again, talking to myself. I’m not trying to make any points. And I’m not trying to prove anything to anyone. While there are questions I could ask myself, there are no answers. Yet again, another pointless entry.

Emotions. They really are weak. I’ve been having that thought for some days now. Perhaps for a while I thought they were alright, acceptable, maybe normal. But, no. My mentality really has not changed at all. Weakness is unacceptable. Except if I keep thinking about it, everything is weak.

I just don’t get it.

—————-
Now playing: Gatsbys American Dream – A Mind Of Metal And Wheels
via FoxyTunes

Mar
05

Make Noise

Written earlier, on the train:

I’m on the train again. Some introspective thoughts have come from sitting in the train, staring out at the blur of scenery. Thoughts race faster than I can get them down; It just takes some focusing.

My Aunt Elvia just called me, and it’s the first time I have spoken to her since the 23rd of February. Going to the Linkin Park concert last night depressed me, and now more so after getting her call. She expressed to me moments ago that she’s glad I went and she wished she could have gone. And yes, I still had that extra third ticket so technically she could have gone. I feel worse than worse now. Things like this can’t just be pushed aside and gone from my mind. Not at all. So what is there to do now?

The concert itself was amazing. Chiodos sounds equally haunting live as they do in their album. They played my fave songs, which is pretty cool. They kept saying they’re new and lalala and thanks to LP &etc. ‘Twas cute. As for Coheed and Cambria… gag! I absolutely hate them. I thought I hated their album, but oh no they’re awful live. Or at least I think so. Their set was bordering on too long considering they were giving me a headache.

When Linkin Park went on, though, it didn’t matter. The Coheed-induced headache was gone. (: So as not to sound gay I don’t think I’m going to profess how exciting and amazing the show was (apart from what I just said). I recorded a few songs. I haven’t heard yet, but hopefully it sounds alright.

The rise and fall of a single solitary person.

There are things in life so sad they just cannot be expressed. Some days I think I am one of those. What makes it worse it that I look completely happy when that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Listening to The Kids Aren’t Alright brings back memories from the end of Junior year. Victorialee, Stephanie, David, and I made a music video to that song. We were an over-achieving little group. We made CDs with a cover that I designed (titled The Glassers as that was our teacher’s name, Mr. Glasser), and passed them out to students as prizes when they answered questions on our Wheel (made by my very artistic&creative twin, Victoria). Stephanie’s boyfriend got us a fog machine and the whole place was like a stage with us dressed in our rocker outfits and stuff. It was so damn tight.

Memories like these are so so so mood altering. How can someone honestly go from true happiness to complete misery? 11th grade/now. 11th grade/now. The memories switch back and forth and they are just so different. Let’s now even touch up on 12th grade. Possibly the worst year of my whole damn life. I rather pretend it never happened.

I’m going to write something else right now, but I don’t know why. Vague, yes. Whatever. This is more than I can take.

—————-
Now playing: The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus – Grim Goodbye
via FoxyTunes

Feb
12

Blogging Is For The Lonely

Lmao, I wonder what that says about because this is going to be the third time blogging today. Just walk it off. Well, I mean, what is blogging, really? Isn’t it basically talking to yourself in written form because no one else is willing to hear it? Maybe that’s just my overly-dramatic opinion of blogging.

I just did homework for three hours straight. I have to admit, it feels good to do homework and study again. ^_^ I remember doing it so so sooo much 11th grade. I was such a dedicated person. And my friendships were never healthier. How did I balance? I’m trying to find that balance again, but it’s so damn hard! Well, not really… but it’s just very iffy-ish.

For example, the only reason I was abe to do homework for this long is because I stayed at The Hub (you know, on-campus) to do it all. I cannot focus at FT. At all. Being on-campus is refreshing, motivating, and all that. So… I’m thinking I should just stay on campus if possible. My grades are on the line. It currently feels like I’m failing all my classes (and I only have three!)… so you know… some changes are in order! [Random side-note: doing homework and studying makes me less hungry... ahahaha]

I’m just going to stay on-campus to have dinner. I already called Sandy up, but she’s not that hungry yet either. So now I just wait. That’s fine because I can just chill here and relax for a while (since all my hw is done). ^_^

Oh yes… I never did say what classes I chose for next quarter did I?

  • Phil 3: Critical Thinking (requirement for Philosophy major)
  • Phill 100A: Ethics (Iheartethics)
  • Math34A (yes, I’m re-taking it to get a better grade. ugh, utter waste of my time)
  • Japanese 3

17 units. Yes, I know… if I can barely handle the 12 this quarter aren’t I going to diiiie next quarter? (What with planning for Extravaganza as well…) So, I might not be making logical choices at the moment, but whatever. I just need to FOCUS. (:

Should I attend the Program Board movies tonight? I didn’t sign up to go so I’m not required, but I could just go and watch the movies. Though, the movies look pretty stupid this time around. Whatevz. Depends how I feel after dinner. How I wish I lived in one of the on-campus dorms.

Tralalala… I’m surprised by how great my iTunes library is… I have it on Party Shuffle now (due largely in part because fucking iTunes deleted all my ratings, and playcounts, etc.) and most of the stuff I hear is good. (: I wouldn’t be listening to this music otherwise! Imagine that.

Hah, well… I’ve written a lot today. I should do something else… or I might just keep on blogging. -_-; Lol.

Feb
10

Inexplicable

I want to write about something. A few topics come to mind, but it’s quite unfortunate that I should feel the need to censor myself despite the fact that I know I should not. In all honesty, when this topic comes up on others’ blogs the first thing I say is that they ought not worry because it is their blog and they should feel comfortable typing whatever they please. Of course, master hypocrite here will not.

Sad thoughts come around, but they’re not bringing me depression, for which I am grateful. Though, that doesn’t make for any good writing (or at least what I consider “good”). Whatevz. Life is good.

Hm, I spent a greater part of today organizing my photos. First I separated them by year, then month, and then titled them by “## Title,” the ## being day. I finished 2006, and I suppose I could do 2002 since there are only a handful of photos in that. I have been meaning to organize my Pictures folder for some time, but I actually got to it today!

There are so many concerts/tours coming up, or they’re at least on sale now. I’m so tempted to purchase tickets, but at the same time… there are some time & schedule conflicts. ): Spring Retreat might be the same weekend as The Bamboozle Left, which I reaaaaally want to go to. Argh.

While I was organizing photos I found these two very interesting ones:

2006_02_09_01001.jpg

2006_02_09_00999.jpg

They can be clicked to be seen bigger. Anyway, this was a really cool setting on my old digi-ness cam (but of course I won’t ever find it now…) and yeah, I didn’t use it often, but I got some really artsy photos that way. ^_^ Hm, anyway, the photos are dated February 9, 2006. (:

—————-
Now playing: Atreyu – A Song for the Optimists
via FoxyTunes

Dec
18

I don’t care who reads this

But that’s in theory. Just thinking about it actually makes me really nervous. And randomly I’ll start to hyperventilate just thinking about the subject material. I gave this entry some thought while I was in the shower and I nearly couldn’t breathe just because sharing “pieces of me” is kinda idk scary as fuck (lol ashlee simpson).

Anyway, I wrote this yesterday, even though it feels like I wrote it before that. The days are so long sometimes. Enough stalling!

From my journal:

December 17, 2007

I’m haunted by memories. I’m sitting on the balcony to Meme’s apartment, and after having read for an hour under the comforting warm sun — well, I just can’t stop remembering. That first kiss with him, and all. Playing video games with him and my little brother. Dancing as we were leaving Disneyland, and my shyness. I keep remembering. His body pressed against mine. My lips tingled for days after he left [for the Navy]. I don’t miss him, though. I’m just remembering. I realize now, I didn’t love Eric. I was in love with the idea of love [for that many years, yes]. I miss Rob, though. But maybe that’s due largely to the fact that I had to re-read some of our conversations… I miss his words, his thoughts on life, just, him. He was amazing. We’d talk at all times of the day and I never grew tired of him. But this is the side of him you just don’t get unless you’re “with” him. God, I miss him. And it pains me now that he’s with her now. She’s perfection. She really is. I never really thought much of it when he was with what’s her name a while back, but this girl – she’s perfection. Five years and finally they’re together. [This is what I get for reading my LJ friends page at the worst time -- you get all this information that you shouldn't get] When Rob and I were together they would still talk, but I was never jealous. He was mine. We loved each other for a while. Or I loved him for a while, but I don’t think I knew it at the time. It’s amazing to me that it took me a whole goddamn year to react. A whole year of what, apathy? Did I just pretend to move on? Had I moved on, but now I’m thinking about it? I don’t understand the delayed reaction. What the fuck is wrong with me? The last year is a blur. I can’t even remember last Christmas, I really can’t. Did we do anything for Easter? 4th of July? I can’t remember any of it! I remember my 18th birthday, though. No one in my family cared [well, that's just how it felt]. They called me a week later… it was depressing. The one day that’s supposed to be dedicated to me, and no one cared. A week before, on my brother’s birthday, everyone came over. Okay, right, I’m not supposed to compare myself to him, I forget. But why not? Doesn’t he have it better off? Who cares, whatever. The sun sure feels really strong now and I’m wearing all black. Not the most comfortable of feelings, that’s for sure. I notice, there are no paragraph breaks, but that’s because I don’t know where my thoughts are leading me. I haven’t eaten in like two days. And you know when you’re boasting about it and you’re counting the hours that it’s on purpose. No, I’m not hungry. My stomach has yet to even grumble. Though I did wake up at 3am quite nauseous. That’s how I feel right now, too, but I’m also uncomfortably burning up. I had about six different dreams last night. Every time I woke up I wrote them down. I didn’t want to forget. One stands out, though. It was at my old house on 6th Ave. in LA. I don’t know if I felt threatened or if I was running away from something, but there was an animal. It was circular, like a ball almost. And it was a beige pink color. Maybe something like Jiggly Puff (lolol). Anyway, there was this big window on my old house. Two, in fact. They were tall. I guess I had to sort of do a pull up (which I can’t do in real life) so that the animal couldn’t get me… I was slipping, and it almost got me… but I used all my strength to pull up again and I was holding on to the top part of the window. When I turned to look back, the animal was holding on to the concrete of the porch. I jumped down, stared at the animal. There was no empathy in me and no mercy either. At that moment I realized the animal was a representation of me. But that didn’t matter. I let the animal fall, and it likely died. I walked away without any effort and then my dream was over. I let myself die. And I didn’t care. Nothing matters, after all. Yesterday all I did was sleep. Well, mostly naps. I told my aunts it was the sleeping pills, but that was a lie. But I got back to Meme’s at 6:30pm and I went to sleep. I awoke at 11, only because I didn’t have the phone (my cell, I mean), with me. Time is of the utmost importance to me. Time has to be within my grasp, so to speak. That’s why I was really sad when my watch broke. I can’t wait to get a new one. The sun is really starting to burn. I guess I’ll go back inside now, until Mary gets back home. I want to finish watching the movie I started and maybe watch my Netflix one. Or watch that first (while I wait…) Hm, rambling. Back inside I go. This was a comforting writing session.

This took up almost four pages in my journal, but I’m glad to get this onto my blog (for record keeping???) and yeah…

On a completely different note, even though I’m making this entry longer, Surpass Hosting sent me a Christmas card and a sticker. I fuhreaking x love my hosting company!!

I believe I’m going to sleep over at Rona’s tonight. That biotch better have something for us to do… lolol. Well, I don’t get bored that easily so whatevers is fine. Just talking is more than enough for me. Only day two of vay kay and already it feels like there’s nothing to do. Oh boyyy, but it will get busy by the end of this week, for sure status.

One last point I’d like to make to myself is that I need to stop getting so angry at small things. Because then I don’t point them out at people, but I’m just super bitchy in return, and they just haven’t realized why I’m upset. I gotta work on this by either talking to these people less, telling them wtf upset me, or just control ze bitchy-ness.

ABC, 123. Take your pick!

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