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Mixtape Ghost N SOMETIMES EVЕN RICH NIGGAS GET LOST
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0-24 hrs ago
. Jasmine Carolina Woods .
"Victory comes to the finest, and there was no one finer than me." - A quote by yours truly.
Blunt, pretty, bootylicious, athletic, smart, confident, responsible, stylish, swaggy, free-thinking.
- Winning at sports.
- Getting the best clothes I own and hitting the town.
- Making losers envious.
- Modeling.
- Jokes about my ass.
I am the best basketball player in this damn town, better than those try-hards. I'm going to hit the WNBA and put them all to shame.
Everyone acts like I'm such a giant, undiplomatic, asshole. Like, I can stand half the kids in this damn town without wanting to punch them in the face. But, it appears that people think I'm bad with people - when I'm just bad with idiots.
When I won the championship for my team. Everyone was just standing there like a bunch of zombies as I just danced through them, and jumped like ten feet to dunk. It was incredible, I made everyone so jealous.
Well... Let's say I'm a little bi. I don't go around saying I eat pussy to everyone. But, I got a little frisky with a team mate in the showers... when someone else walked in. I had to do everything to keep the bitch quiet. From asking nicely, to threatening to punch their teeth down their throat. Fortunately enough, she got the picture and kept her mouth shut - but, that isn't the point.
Call me shallow all you want, but a tall, attractive, dude, one that's muscular. But, I want to make sure he isn't one of those "bro-bro" dumbasses (half of them are secretly gay anyway). Ugh, I can't stand idiots like that. I want a nice, quiet dude at that. Long as he isn't weird, I'll make it work.
Well, I never told anyone this, but a girl got fed up with me one time, and she just punched me in the face. So, as revenge, I went to go kick her ass after school, and while she was going home, I punched her square in the jaw, but she went tumbling forward in front of a speeding car. I got away since the bastard was drunk off his ass... but, I found out that I put her in a coma.... I can't put into words what I did to her. I'm sorry... but if I tell anyone, I'm ruined.
Go back and undo the incident where I put a girl in the coma. I need.
Fabricant451 Queen of Hearts
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2 mos ago
. Elle Hester Prynne .
'Back to the hood, and papparazzi take a click. I'm covered, always prepared for the weather. Easy mek it rain, but I'm holding the umbrella'. I swear that song was, like, written for me. It's not my problem if people can't help but talk about me; it's a curse of being the full package.
Well, obviously the first word is simple but all encompassing. FABULOUS. Because let's face it, compared to the more droll students, I'm always looking fly. Just because there's a thing called 'starving artist' doesn't mean you have to look the part. Ugh.
Second, well, it's hard to come up with nine others when fabulous is just so...perfect, so I guess I'll say...DOGMATIC. I swear some people think it's a bad thing to be so vocal and assertive but sorry not sorry for not being a meek little painter or writer or whatever. Grow a backbone, god.
Ugh, this is so stupid. You know everyone's just going to make stuff up, right? I bet that frumpy girl from ceramics is going to put down some lies about being 'creative' and 'beautiful' but please, we all know she steals her designs from the internet and that her little knicknacks wouldn't even sell on ETSY of all places. Me, though, I'm always going to give you the truth because I'm comfortable with myself. Which is to say I have a large amount of CONFIDENCE which is sorely lacking in others.
But really why do we need to use words to describe us? This is so stupid. Everyone's just going to go to a thesaurus and find adjectives, but why not a different part of speech or whatever the term? How many essays or questionnaires where the people will find ten ways to say 'funny' and 'honest' do you need? And let's be real here, no one (other than me, of course) is ever honest in these things. I think I just said that but the point stands. Oh, right, more words to describe me. Fine, let's go with INSOUCIANT
How many is that? Four? Ugh, who has the time for ten words? I'm not a dictionary here. SCRUPULOUS will be my fifth because it sounds better than punctilious which just makes me sound like some sort of OCD freak of nature that organizes pens on a desk. Creepy, those people.
I can't believe I'm only halfway done. It would be so easy to just speed through this, but unlike half the student body I'm not interested in half-assing things. Because I'm better than that, I'm not lazy and some of us care about our GPA. But when half the school is going to be doing caricature art on a shitty boardwalk, busking for tips, or in jail in five years it's not so surprising at the lack of work ethic. SYBARITIC because I know whoever is reading this just had to look that word up.
Honestly this is just a waste of time. I'm not being graded on this, it's like some stupid survey or something. Probably for the school paper THAT NO ONE EVEN READS! Seriously, when was the last time you saw anyone walking through the halls with their nose buried in a newspaper. Hello, we have phones and when the signal isn't absolute trash the news is on there. I need a seventh word. Fine. LOQUACIOUS.
Eight. Eight. You know, reading over this and it may come off...badly for me. But I swear it's not! I swear it's not like that. I just have a good vocabulary and a better read on people. That's all. I've got my good side. Well, all of me is good. Honest. Like for example I bet it's not even well known that I'm really a ROMANTIC at heart.
Seriously. Don't give me that look that I know you're giving me. You don't believe me. Not my problem. Just because I haven't had someone swoop in on a white horse yet doesn't mean I don't believe in it. And it had BETTER be a horse, because I'm worth it. Some might say that makes me conceited but I don't think I am. I think I'm more of a REALIST and it's hard to deny my words and claims when you see me.
After all, these words that describe me don't necessarily define me and in the end the only one that REALLY matters is that I'm above all COMPLEX.
Second, well, it's hard to come up with nine others when fabulous is just so...perfect, so I guess I'll say...DOGMATIC. I swear some people think it's a bad thing to be so vocal and assertive but sorry not sorry for not being a meek little painter or writer or whatever. Grow a backbone, god.
Ugh, this is so stupid. You know everyone's just going to make stuff up, right? I bet that frumpy girl from ceramics is going to put down some lies about being 'creative' and 'beautiful' but please, we all know she steals her designs from the internet and that her little knicknacks wouldn't even sell on ETSY of all places. Me, though, I'm always going to give you the truth because I'm comfortable with myself. Which is to say I have a large amount of CONFIDENCE which is sorely lacking in others.
But really why do we need to use words to describe us? This is so stupid. Everyone's just going to go to a thesaurus and find adjectives, but why not a different part of speech or whatever the term? How many essays or questionnaires where the people will find ten ways to say 'funny' and 'honest' do you need? And let's be real here, no one (other than me, of course) is ever honest in these things. I think I just said that but the point stands. Oh, right, more words to describe me. Fine, let's go with INSOUCIANT
How many is that? Four? Ugh, who has the time for ten words? I'm not a dictionary here. SCRUPULOUS will be my fifth because it sounds better than punctilious which just makes me sound like some sort of OCD freak of nature that organizes pens on a desk. Creepy, those people.
I can't believe I'm only halfway done. It would be so easy to just speed through this, but unlike half the student body I'm not interested in half-assing things. Because I'm better than that, I'm not lazy and some of us care about our GPA. But when half the school is going to be doing caricature art on a shitty boardwalk, busking for tips, or in jail in five years it's not so surprising at the lack of work ethic. SYBARITIC because I know whoever is reading this just had to look that word up.
Honestly this is just a waste of time. I'm not being graded on this, it's like some stupid survey or something. Probably for the school paper THAT NO ONE EVEN READS! Seriously, when was the last time you saw anyone walking through the halls with their nose buried in a newspaper. Hello, we have phones and when the signal isn't absolute trash the news is on there. I need a seventh word. Fine. LOQUACIOUS.
Eight. Eight. You know, reading over this and it may come off...badly for me. But I swear it's not! I swear it's not like that. I just have a good vocabulary and a better read on people. That's all. I've got my good side. Well, all of me is good. Honest. Like for example I bet it's not even well known that I'm really a ROMANTIC at heart.
Seriously. Don't give me that look that I know you're giving me. You don't believe me. Not my problem. Just because I haven't had someone swoop in on a white horse yet doesn't mean I don't believe in it. And it had BETTER be a horse, because I'm worth it. Some might say that makes me conceited but I don't think I am. I think I'm more of a REALIST and it's hard to deny my words and claims when you see me.
After all, these words that describe me don't necessarily define me and in the end the only one that REALLY matters is that I'm above all COMPLEX.
- Have you ever seen the mist on an early morning day? As it comes in off the coastline? It's breathtaking; I'll take that over a sunset or sunrise any day of the week.
- There's something just so calming about fuji apple water. Whenever I'm in a bad mood - rare as it is - a glass of that and it's like heaven in my mouth.
- When the weather changes and I can finally wear my fantastic stylish and fabulous sweaters without dying of exhaustion and sweating all over the place.
- That sound of fresh ink or lead when it first meets paper. It's like a scribbling sound and it's divine. Simply and utterly.
- When the bass hits just right and your whole body just wants to...to dance. Which is to say, cliche as it is, dance music makes me feel good. Hey, it's worked for decades for a reason.
Well, obviously the immediate goal is to graduate and go on to college but considering my GPA (amazing) and my attendance record (flawless) I doubt I have anything to worry about there. This thing is not going to be shared, right? Honestly, after graduation what I really want to do is become a novelist. But that won't happen. It can't. Honestly I'll probably wind up being a trophy spouse or something, maybe get into a sorority in college and become a marriage or party planner or something. Maybe I'll get into advertising, I do have a portfolio in the works.
Goals are just dreams that you have to wake up from.
Goals are just dreams that you have to wake up from.
Ability.
I...let's just move on.
I...let's just move on.
The look on my stepmother's face on the night she died. Specifically the last time I saw her face.
Telling my stepmother that I hated her and blamed her for the divorce of my parents. It was stupid of me to say; but at the time it was how I felt. My younger brother accepted her easily, but he is the 'nice' one anyway. I got...I got angry at her, I couldn't see her as anything other than a mistress and it happened at Thanksgiving of all days. At dinner. All that needed to happen was a food fight and we'd have been the perfect dysfunctional sitcom episode. I kept calling her Becky because she hated that I didn't call her mom. She kept calling me Eleanor because she knew I hated it (it's such an...ugly name for an ugly person) and it came to a head at Thanksgiving dinner. It got loud. It got angry. It almost got violent. But Becky loved to go outside and calm down, nature walks she called them. Thanksgiving is a time when people who have no one, no family or friends to share it with, share their loneliness with a bottle.
The doctors told me it wasn't my fault, that it was the fault of the drunk driver. But if I hadn't been so stubborn and mean my dad would still be married and he would still...never mind.
Next question.
The doctors told me it wasn't my fault, that it was the fault of the drunk driver. But if I hadn't been so stubborn and mean my dad would still be married and he would still...never mind.
Next question.
The exact opposite of me? My past experiences have taught me that the vain types tend to only see me as a status symbol and...and I'm a lot less happy about that than I let on. Yeah, it makes sense that I should be with the popular people - date wise, I mean - but they don't make me happy. I'm not just a catty bitch and a piece of arm candy. I told you, I'm a romantic, and my ideal partner wouldn't be afraid to show their affection even if it was super cringey or cheesy.
Wait. Wait did you mean like gender wise?
Oh. Uh.
Whatever. Uh...available? I'm fine with, like...whomever.
Wait. Wait did you mean like gender wise?
Oh. Uh.
Whatever. Uh...available? I'm fine with, like...whomever.
I adore animated shows and write kind of bawdy fanfiction about characters and also fictional versions of my classmates. I've never read the comments, though, because I know I'm a terrible author and don't need the negative reinforcement in my life.
Tell my younger self that crocs were NEVER going to be a good idea. That was a very difficult few months. But I bounced back.
Elle Prynne always bounces back.
Elle Prynne always bounces back.
banjoanjo Still likes pistachios
Member
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9 days ago
. James Xiao .
Zi gong (a disciple of Confucius) asked: "Is there any one word that could guide a person throughout life?"
The Master replied: "How about 'shu' [reciprocity]: never impose on others what you would not choose for yourself?"
--Confucius, Analects XV.24
Alternatively:
"Do no harm but take no shit." - Unknown
Alternatively:
“God, give me patience, because if you give me strength I’ll kill them.” - Unknown
The Master replied: "How about 'shu' [reciprocity]: never impose on others what you would not choose for yourself?"
--Confucius, Analects XV.24
Alternatively:
"Do no harm but take no shit." - Unknown
Alternatively:
“God, give me patience, because if you give me strength I’ll kill them.” - Unknown
Polite, irritable, tries hard, violent, fit, self-restrained, self-aware. (Oh sweet, I actually used ten words! Wait, do the last two count as two or four?)
- Musical soundtracks
- Sitcoms
- Korean barbecue
- Messing around with friends
- Cycling around town with no real destination
Get into a decent college with a sports scholarship. Don't want to be even more financially tied to my dad because of tuition fees, so the savings from a lacrosse scholarship would be pretty rad. It's not like my grades are gonna land me a place anywhere. I'll probably study something like Urban Planning or whatever at college. Hope you weren't asking for something further in the future cos I've honestly got no clue, haha.
Hoo boy, where do I even start? My temper, the violence that is derived from my temper, the sailor mouth that gets triggered by my temper... You seeing a pattern here? Okay, what else? I guess the fact that I have no real skills besides lacrosse is a pretty big one too...
During summer vacation in tenth grade, the dude in front of me, screaming, had greenish eyes. But it was a murky green, a brownish green. Shrek-swamp green? I didn’t know the name of that shade. Either way it was not a very attractive colour.
He seemed to finally be simmering down from his initial rant so I raised my hands to try and calm him further. The gravel imprints were still pressed into the skin of my palms, as well as a few specks of blood from when I touched my cheek earlier.
“Look, I’m sorry,” I struggled to keep my voice even. This wasn’t even my fault. Mostly. I think. Hard to tell when I’m always second-guessing my perception of events. “I’ll have my dad contact you and pay for all the damages.”
The dude’s face contorted in fury and the cheek muscle under his left eye twitched. Moss green? No, it was still Shrek green. An ugly expression to go with an ugly eye color.
“Did you not fucking pay attention to anything I said?!” the guy roared in disbelief, “My dad’s going to fucking kill me if he finds out I wrecked his Porsche! If you had any idea what…”
“Please stop yelling,” I winced. People yelling at me always made my blood boil. People’s voices shouldn’t be able to be that loud. I don’t think he heard me over his tirade. Crap, it was getting a lot harder to not lose it. I started to grit my teeth involuntarily and curled my fingers. Crap, crap, crap. Just concentrate on something else, James.
The yelling dude’s nose scrunched when he was mad. It was a very straight nose. Greek, perhaps? It was rather long and pointed. Obviously never broken. The fucktard in general looked like he’d never been in a fight. I wondered if I would be the first person to break this prick’s nose. It looked like a very breakable nose. It would’ve been so fucking simple, I’d just have to… Nope, nope, don’t go there. Bad train of thought, very bad. Think of something else, literally anything else.
I glanced past him and at the wreckage. It honestly didn’t even look that bad. My bike looked pretty unscratched. The same went for the convertible Porsche, if you ignored the broken driver’s seat window. I had managed to brake in time to avoid a more severe collision but unfortunately I was sent flying straight into the tinted glass. I glanced down at my arms. They were covered with little cuts but that was nothing compared to the large gash on my cheek. I’d landed face-first, onto a particularly large area of broken glass. It stung like a bitch but I was too busy concentrating on not getting mad to do anything about it. How was this my fault again?
The asswipe’s tirade seemed to direct itself to my belongings now. He stomped over to his car and threw my bike aside, littering the road with the house’s groceries for that week.
“Hey!” I snarled. This bastard was making it impossible to keep my cool. “Don’t touch my fucki—“
“Or what?” he sneered. “You’ll kick my ass? I’ve heard about you, James Xiao. If you lay a single fucking finger on me, I’ll make sure your ass gets expelled.”
I recoiled and stepped back to my original position. When had I stepped forward? Oh god, my body was starting to move on its own. This wasn’t going to end well.
The prick made a big show of kicking through the groceries. I watched in a strange combination of dismay and restrained fury. Fuck, what was I supposed to do in this situation? It was like the world intentionally sent assholes my way just so it could laugh at how little it took to make me snap. I did the breathing exercises I saw online and dug my fingers further into my palms. They were drawing blood now. Ouch. But that was a good thing. The pain helped me see things clearly.
I took a deep breath and tried to do a mental checklist of the things I would need to go back to the supermarket for. Tomatoes, instant coffee, Tracy’s skittles. Wait no, those looked fine.
I breathed a sigh of relief. As if on cue, the Porsche driving prick picked up the candy packet. He’d seen my relief. Fucking fuck.
“Those are for my sister. Could you please—“
“Oops,” the fucking bastard smirked and ripped open the packet, letting its contents spill onto the asphalt. I stared at the suddenly brightly colored road and stuck my curled fists into my pockets. This wasn't fucking fair. I was trying so hard not to lose it. My teeth were aching from how much I grit them. Come on, I could do this. I could get past this. Just shut up, pack your shit and go.
I sullenly crouched down and began picking up what I could salvage. I did it silently. Couldn’t trust myself not to say something wrong. My heart was pounding from the pent-up frustration. I could do this. I could get past this without beating his face in, without disappointing Tracy and dad again. As much as it made my hands twitch and my face flush in anger, I just had to take it on the chin. Yes, I could do this. This was going to be a new leaf for James Xiao.
“Wow,” he scoffed, “You Xiaos really are a bunch of fucking pans—“
My fist shot out and made a very substantial connection with his face. Huh. His nose really was easy to break.
He seemed to finally be simmering down from his initial rant so I raised my hands to try and calm him further. The gravel imprints were still pressed into the skin of my palms, as well as a few specks of blood from when I touched my cheek earlier.
“Look, I’m sorry,” I struggled to keep my voice even. This wasn’t even my fault. Mostly. I think. Hard to tell when I’m always second-guessing my perception of events. “I’ll have my dad contact you and pay for all the damages.”
The dude’s face contorted in fury and the cheek muscle under his left eye twitched. Moss green? No, it was still Shrek green. An ugly expression to go with an ugly eye color.
“Did you not fucking pay attention to anything I said?!” the guy roared in disbelief, “My dad’s going to fucking kill me if he finds out I wrecked his Porsche! If you had any idea what…”
“Please stop yelling,” I winced. People yelling at me always made my blood boil. People’s voices shouldn’t be able to be that loud. I don’t think he heard me over his tirade. Crap, it was getting a lot harder to not lose it. I started to grit my teeth involuntarily and curled my fingers. Crap, crap, crap. Just concentrate on something else, James.
The yelling dude’s nose scrunched when he was mad. It was a very straight nose. Greek, perhaps? It was rather long and pointed. Obviously never broken. The fucktard in general looked like he’d never been in a fight. I wondered if I would be the first person to break this prick’s nose. It looked like a very breakable nose. It would’ve been so fucking simple, I’d just have to… Nope, nope, don’t go there. Bad train of thought, very bad. Think of something else, literally anything else.
I glanced past him and at the wreckage. It honestly didn’t even look that bad. My bike looked pretty unscratched. The same went for the convertible Porsche, if you ignored the broken driver’s seat window. I had managed to brake in time to avoid a more severe collision but unfortunately I was sent flying straight into the tinted glass. I glanced down at my arms. They were covered with little cuts but that was nothing compared to the large gash on my cheek. I’d landed face-first, onto a particularly large area of broken glass. It stung like a bitch but I was too busy concentrating on not getting mad to do anything about it. How was this my fault again?
The asswipe’s tirade seemed to direct itself to my belongings now. He stomped over to his car and threw my bike aside, littering the road with the house’s groceries for that week.
“Hey!” I snarled. This bastard was making it impossible to keep my cool. “Don’t touch my fucki—“
“Or what?” he sneered. “You’ll kick my ass? I’ve heard about you, James Xiao. If you lay a single fucking finger on me, I’ll make sure your ass gets expelled.”
I recoiled and stepped back to my original position. When had I stepped forward? Oh god, my body was starting to move on its own. This wasn’t going to end well.
The prick made a big show of kicking through the groceries. I watched in a strange combination of dismay and restrained fury. Fuck, what was I supposed to do in this situation? It was like the world intentionally sent assholes my way just so it could laugh at how little it took to make me snap. I did the breathing exercises I saw online and dug my fingers further into my palms. They were drawing blood now. Ouch. But that was a good thing. The pain helped me see things clearly.
I took a deep breath and tried to do a mental checklist of the things I would need to go back to the supermarket for. Tomatoes, instant coffee, Tracy’s skittles. Wait no, those looked fine.
I breathed a sigh of relief. As if on cue, the Porsche driving prick picked up the candy packet. He’d seen my relief. Fucking fuck.
“Those are for my sister. Could you please—“
“Oops,” the fucking bastard smirked and ripped open the packet, letting its contents spill onto the asphalt. I stared at the suddenly brightly colored road and stuck my curled fists into my pockets. This wasn't fucking fair. I was trying so hard not to lose it. My teeth were aching from how much I grit them. Come on, I could do this. I could get past this. Just shut up, pack your shit and go.
I sullenly crouched down and began picking up what I could salvage. I did it silently. Couldn’t trust myself not to say something wrong. My heart was pounding from the pent-up frustration. I could do this. I could get past this without beating his face in, without disappointing Tracy and dad again. As much as it made my hands twitch and my face flush in anger, I just had to take it on the chin. Yes, I could do this. This was going to be a new leaf for James Xiao.
“Wow,” he scoffed, “You Xiaos really are a bunch of fucking pans—“
My fist shot out and made a very substantial connection with his face. Huh. His nose really was easy to break.
Letting my dad talk me into going to this preppy school. Seriously, it's like a gold plated jetski. Just cos we can afford it, doesn't mean it's a good idea. I'm nowhere near hipster enough to keep up with these smarmy bastards.
Someone nice and pretty who knows when to slap me over the head when I'm being stupid. And who knows how to cook a mean lasagna. Oh, did you want a gender too? I don't think I've really thought about it much but I guess I'm fine with any.
I've never really liked lacrosse that much, even though people call me a prodigy. I get too angry when people shove into me or when we lose. Not ideal for my state of mind.
Find my young self a new talent. Something like piano or drawing. Those sound nice and relaxed. At least with something like those, people would stop questioning why a jock is attending a predominantly arts-based school. Hell, even finding a different sport like volleyball would be better. No physical contact there. The ball is a lot softer too...
HalfOfLancelot What's worse: being heartbroke or roachbit?
Member
Seen
3 yrs ago
Archer Milton .
“To be nobody but
yourself in a world
which is doing its best day and night to make you like
everybody else means to fight the hardest battle
which any human being can fight and never stop fighting.”
I find myself going back to him - E.E. Cummings, that is. I never know why, but the words make my chest hurt and my throat tighten. They're poignant. In what way?
I keep asking why these affect me. I never know the answer - so why am I asking myself?
yourself in a world
which is doing its best day and night to make you like
everybody else means to fight the hardest battle
which any human being can fight and never stop fighting.”
I find myself going back to him - E.E. Cummings, that is. I never know why, but the words make my chest hurt and my throat tighten. They're poignant. In what way?
I keep asking why these affect me. I never know the answer - so why am I asking myself?
I was told: introspection leads to retrospection. Learn from your past, right? Except this kind of learning focuses on yourself. Pretty nifty, yeah? Well, I got to thinking the other day that sometimes there's more to a person than any one of us can know. That includes who you are to yourself. And, boy, is it difficult to just sit down and write things about yourself.
Now, I'm not one for lying. If you're gonna tell the truth, you might as well tell all of it. Otherwise, it all ceases to even be true anymore. Of course, easier said than done. It takes awhile to just sit there and think; introspection's a hard thing. I don't envy monks or hippies, one bit. Instinct leads you astray - like Descartes said, uh, something about not trusting your senses. I didn't read much beyond that. He's got this wicked sense of proving God that's a little too out of the left field. Do what all the other philosophers do and ignore that part, I guess? Is that what they do?
I digress. The one thing that kept tripping me up was my own self. Denial's a hard thing to truck through. It's a silent thing. Quick and painless. Ain't even know it's there unless you look for it and you got to look for it with honesty on your mind to even find it.
So, yeah, I tried to get down to the nitty gritty of it and I kind of failed. I guess sometimes you just gotta accept that there are just some things in this world you truly cannot know. Maybe knowing yourself is one of those things? Maybe that mirror's always smudged. Maybe you're smudging it to save yourself.
down below the entry is a taped piece of yellow notepad paper with a list of ten words written on it.
Now, I'm not one for lying. If you're gonna tell the truth, you might as well tell all of it. Otherwise, it all ceases to even be true anymore. Of course, easier said than done. It takes awhile to just sit there and think; introspection's a hard thing. I don't envy monks or hippies, one bit. Instinct leads you astray - like Descartes said, uh, something about not trusting your senses. I didn't read much beyond that. He's got this wicked sense of proving God that's a little too out of the left field. Do what all the other philosophers do and ignore that part, I guess? Is that what they do?
I digress. The one thing that kept tripping me up was my own self. Denial's a hard thing to truck through. It's a silent thing. Quick and painless. Ain't even know it's there unless you look for it and you got to look for it with honesty on your mind to even find it.
So, yeah, I tried to get down to the nitty gritty of it and I kind of failed. I guess sometimes you just gotta accept that there are just some things in this world you truly cannot know. Maybe knowing yourself is one of those things? Maybe that mirror's always smudged. Maybe you're smudging it to save yourself.
down below the entry is a taped piece of yellow notepad paper with a list of ten words written on it.
- Honesty (the best policy)
- Driven
- Stubborn
- Reclusive (like the spider; we only got widows, right? right...?)
- A Duck (if I ever saw one)
- Grapes of Wrath
- Jumpy/Jittery
- Birch Tree
- Not All There
- Straightforward
It's one of those days again. I'm an island, I like to say. I'm sitting here surrounded by a mass of water and I take whatever I'm given. Sometimes what I'm given isn't exactly helpful. Or harmful. Sometimes it's just neither. I don't like those days. They seem filtered in grey and like I'm moving through a bunch of muck to get from nowhere to no place.
I can't say exactly how it started. Occasionally, there are just days where you wake up and you're trapped in some gaudy black and white feature or stuck in the static on a radio.
So, I'm trying this new positivity thing I found on the internet surrounded by a bunch of saturated photos of pumpkins and clouds. Convince your brain that you're happy and you'll eventually trick yourself into it. So, I spent last night dragging myself through my house (these moods last days, you know? it sucks) putting words that I know remind me that life's a vibrant merry-go-round on sticky notes and leaving them around random places. I thought I'd jot down the ones I stumbled on today.
I kinda like this thing. I think ma does too. I caught her staring at one on the kitchen window, with one of those watery smiles. Like she's remembering something both sad and happy, at the same time.
I can't say exactly how it started. Occasionally, there are just days where you wake up and you're trapped in some gaudy black and white feature or stuck in the static on a radio.
So, I'm trying this new positivity thing I found on the internet surrounded by a bunch of saturated photos of pumpkins and clouds. Convince your brain that you're happy and you'll eventually trick yourself into it. So, I spent last night dragging myself through my house (these moods last days, you know? it sucks) putting words that I know remind me that life's a vibrant merry-go-round on sticky notes and leaving them around random places. I thought I'd jot down the ones I stumbled on today.
I kinda like this thing. I think ma does too. I caught her staring at one on the kitchen window, with one of those watery smiles. Like she's remembering something both sad and happy, at the same time.
- Kittens
- Pancakes with Blueberry Syrup
- Ferris Wheels, with the background noise of a carnival on a crisp autumn evening.
- Bonfires
- The smell of rain on dead leaves and damp grass. What's the word for that? Is it petrichor?
I know for certain, one thing exactly: I want to make a difference. The problem is getting there. Where is there? Obviously not here. This shanty town doesn't exactly provide many aspects of improving life for people around the world. Not a substantial basis. Maybe this is the world to some people. Not for me.
For awhile now, I've been looking for practical ways of doing good. Charities. Volunteering. There's a lot of options for people with the money to travel. Plenty of jobs, too, outside of this place that'll provide the satisfaction you can only get from helping someone. Nurses. Doctors. Cops. Orderlies. I could list off a number of things.
However, I don't exactly know if I want to do any of those. When I lay out all of the options, it presents itself as too daunting. I'm still a kid. I have a long life ahead of me, if I'm lucky. And the idea of choosing one thing, out of a multitude of things to do for the rest of my life scares the ever living hell out of me.
Sometimes I think what if I just find something to do here? Settle down into the mindset that nothing outside of this bay exists. That this is it. That everything here is all I'll ever need. The thought treads the line of comforting and scary all too well.
I don't like thinking about it, but I have to. I can't just keep wandering this world not knowing where I'm going.
For awhile now, I've been looking for practical ways of doing good. Charities. Volunteering. There's a lot of options for people with the money to travel. Plenty of jobs, too, outside of this place that'll provide the satisfaction you can only get from helping someone. Nurses. Doctors. Cops. Orderlies. I could list off a number of things.
However, I don't exactly know if I want to do any of those. When I lay out all of the options, it presents itself as too daunting. I'm still a kid. I have a long life ahead of me, if I'm lucky. And the idea of choosing one thing, out of a multitude of things to do for the rest of my life scares the ever living hell out of me.
Sometimes I think what if I just find something to do here? Settle down into the mindset that nothing outside of this bay exists. That this is it. That everything here is all I'll ever need. The thought treads the line of comforting and scary all too well.
I don't like thinking about it, but I have to. I can't just keep wandering this world not knowing where I'm going.
I want to say nothing's holding me back. But we both (as in me and my journal) know that's so far from the truth as to be ludicrous. Sometimes, though, the best thing is denial. Maybe for a little while.
Okay, yeah, I'm a goddamn hypocrite. I go about spouting things like, "The truth is what matters." And shit like, "Lying to yourself is the worst crime you can commit." Obviously that last statement ain't true. Pretty sure genocide is the worst crime you can commit, no arguing.
So what's holding me back? What's keeping me from moving from one place to the next? What's the obstacle, Archie? What's got you in a tizzy? What are the chains that bind you to your earthly form?
the words slashed out weren't written. but they're there... subconsciously, in Archie's mind.
Myself.
Myself. Myself.
Myself.
Me.
I am. I am.
I'm keeping myself here. I'm doing this to me. I'm the reason I'm not moving on. I don't want to. I'm scared. I'm too scared. I don't want to leave the security blanket of this town. I don't want to miss anything. I can't. What happens here and what happens to my ma are too important to me.
I guess money, you know?
Okay, yeah, I'm a goddamn hypocrite. I go about spouting things like, "The truth is what matters." And shit like, "Lying to yourself is the worst crime you can commit." Obviously that last statement ain't true. Pretty sure genocide is the worst crime you can commit, no arguing.
So what's holding me back? What's keeping me from moving from one place to the next? What's the obstacle, Archie? What's got you in a tizzy? What are the chains that bind you to your earthly form?
the words slashed out weren't written. but they're there... subconsciously, in Archie's mind.
Myself.
Myself. Myself.
Myself.
Me.
I am. I am.
I'm keeping myself here. I'm doing this to me. I'm the reason I'm not moving on. I don't want to. I'm scared. I'm too scared. I don't want to leave the security blanket of this town. I don't want to miss anything. I can't. What happens here and what happens to my ma are too important to me.
I guess money, you know?
So, there's this place, out in the woods, you know? A little meadow that leads up to a cliff facing Harmonia Bay. I think. It's been awhile. Every Sunday me, my ma, and my dad - before he skipped out, yea - used to go up there after church. I was four, or something. Maybe a little younger. And we'd have this giant picnic lunch planned out and packed.
This day started out like any other: we sat for the sermon, all dressed to the Sunday Nines, as my ma called it. Then we climbed into the truck and went up the road, up the dirt trail, and parked it just as it ended. The rest we hiked. I remember, I got a little tired and so my dad swung me up onto his shoulders. The view from there thrilled me. It was like being on top of a skyscraper. Obviously, most of it's just my imagination, but I swore I saw the clouds and the canopies and the mist in the trees.
Anyway, we got to the meadow and we laid everything out. It went as usual, my ma and dad would talk and I'd eat, then run around a bunch. Typical kid, you know? Except, this time I didn't exactly stay where my ma wanted. It was like an unspoken rule completely told through angry, mother eye signals that I don't step even two feet near the tree line. Well, I wasn't paying attention. A butterfly passed by me. I remember chasing it because it looked so weird against the grass - large, stark black wings. I guess it lead me into the woods because the next thing I knew I was tripping over roots and weeds.
But then, I stumbled on this tiny animal. Well, not tiny. It was a baby. I remember because, well, it was a deer and deer aren't exactly that small. They're kind of scary, especially to a toddler. I guess it was dying, though, but I don't exactly remember seeing any injuries. Likely sick, or something. Being a kid, I immediately though, "Oh no," and went to help it.
Yeah, okay, so little me's kind of a dumbass. What the hell else do you expect a kid to do facing a dead or dying animal? The amount of luck bestowed on me that day that I didn't wake up the next morning dying of pneumonia or some incurable form of the flu was insurmountable.
It was just a baby, though, too weak to fight off a cold much less a damn four year old. I held it while it died. I remember crying for an hour (not really, more like a few minutes) before my mom found me. You can guess what happened afterwards.
But, I keep coming back to that day. The butterfly. The baby doe. I was just a kid, but I mean, that's gotta have some kind of meaning. It changed something. Something inside me or something out in the world. I just know it affected more than just the deer, left to die alone. Just stuck there.
My dad split three weeks after.
This day started out like any other: we sat for the sermon, all dressed to the Sunday Nines, as my ma called it. Then we climbed into the truck and went up the road, up the dirt trail, and parked it just as it ended. The rest we hiked. I remember, I got a little tired and so my dad swung me up onto his shoulders. The view from there thrilled me. It was like being on top of a skyscraper. Obviously, most of it's just my imagination, but I swore I saw the clouds and the canopies and the mist in the trees.
Anyway, we got to the meadow and we laid everything out. It went as usual, my ma and dad would talk and I'd eat, then run around a bunch. Typical kid, you know? Except, this time I didn't exactly stay where my ma wanted. It was like an unspoken rule completely told through angry, mother eye signals that I don't step even two feet near the tree line. Well, I wasn't paying attention. A butterfly passed by me. I remember chasing it because it looked so weird against the grass - large, stark black wings. I guess it lead me into the woods because the next thing I knew I was tripping over roots and weeds.
But then, I stumbled on this tiny animal. Well, not tiny. It was a baby. I remember because, well, it was a deer and deer aren't exactly that small. They're kind of scary, especially to a toddler. I guess it was dying, though, but I don't exactly remember seeing any injuries. Likely sick, or something. Being a kid, I immediately though, "Oh no," and went to help it.
Yeah, okay, so little me's kind of a dumbass. What the hell else do you expect a kid to do facing a dead or dying animal? The amount of luck bestowed on me that day that I didn't wake up the next morning dying of pneumonia or some incurable form of the flu was insurmountable.
It was just a baby, though, too weak to fight off a cold much less a damn four year old. I held it while it died. I remember crying for an hour (not really, more like a few minutes) before my mom found me. You can guess what happened afterwards.
But, I keep coming back to that day. The butterfly. The baby doe. I was just a kid, but I mean, that's gotta have some kind of meaning. It changed something. Something inside me or something out in the world. I just know it affected more than just the deer, left to die alone. Just stuck there.
My dad split three weeks after.
Around this town, it's reasonably easy to get a part time job. Well, it's more old fashioned. Like those older movies where a kid's sweeping up a barbershop for a quarter or two. Maybe not like that, particularly, but it definitely has an abundance of throwaway jobs that don't pay much for kids looking to get some kind of work experience. I know the Arcade has a few openings every summer and even year around. A lot of "Ma 'n Pa" type shops that like to do that, especially if they're elderly and have a more modern cash register. Easier to pay a teenager to work it out.
Okay, so now that we got that out of the way, the minute I turned sixteen, ma expected me to get some kind of job. Well, let's say she regrets telling me that to this day. I put out a bunch of applications, you know, spread yourself out a bit. I got a few calls and the one I took, that lead to an in-person-interview was a small restaurant along the main strip. Cute place. Did hoagies and sandwiches. Excellent service. I aced the interview and the next day I came in they had me busing tables after a quick rundown.
For the first hour, it went by smoothly. Nothing wrong. Everything looked pretty swell. Until the lunch rush and suddenly I'm looking at four tables that need cleaning, all having sat a group of four. Yeah, tip: if you want to get experience working as a waiter, don't go for the most popular place in town. Suffice to say, I'm not that great at balance. Not clumsy, mind you, but I'm not a gymnast either.
In essence, I bit more than I could chew and suddenly I find myself spilling four tables worth (that's sixteen people; four a table) of silverware, flatware, and uneaten, unboxed food onto a row of tables. Glass and ceramics everywhere. I'm pretty sure I gave a little girl a black eye. I ruined so many perfectly good meals and so many plates. I'm pretty sure I laid there for a good fifteen or so minutes until someone had to call an ambulance because I also happened to slice open my forearm.
Sixteen stitches.
No job.
And I had to come in to clean plates to pay off the money they lost replacing them the next day.
My ma gave me a good piece of advice: "You're an absolute shit tier waiter."
Okay, so now that we got that out of the way, the minute I turned sixteen, ma expected me to get some kind of job. Well, let's say she regrets telling me that to this day. I put out a bunch of applications, you know, spread yourself out a bit. I got a few calls and the one I took, that lead to an in-person-interview was a small restaurant along the main strip. Cute place. Did hoagies and sandwiches. Excellent service. I aced the interview and the next day I came in they had me busing tables after a quick rundown.
For the first hour, it went by smoothly. Nothing wrong. Everything looked pretty swell. Until the lunch rush and suddenly I'm looking at four tables that need cleaning, all having sat a group of four. Yeah, tip: if you want to get experience working as a waiter, don't go for the most popular place in town. Suffice to say, I'm not that great at balance. Not clumsy, mind you, but I'm not a gymnast either.
In essence, I bit more than I could chew and suddenly I find myself spilling four tables worth (that's sixteen people; four a table) of silverware, flatware, and uneaten, unboxed food onto a row of tables. Glass and ceramics everywhere. I'm pretty sure I gave a little girl a black eye. I ruined so many perfectly good meals and so many plates. I'm pretty sure I laid there for a good fifteen or so minutes until someone had to call an ambulance because I also happened to slice open my forearm.
Sixteen stitches.
No job.
And I had to come in to clean plates to pay off the money they lost replacing them the next day.
My ma gave me a good piece of advice: "You're an absolute shit tier waiter."
Ask anyone here and they'll tell you the same thing. No, don't actually, I'm sure they have no inkling of my romantic life. It's just a flair for drama to emphasize the fact that I've never been involved. Nothing romantic or sexual, ever. Unfortunate, right? Eh, not so much.
Of course, I'm certainly not counting the moment in second grade when I used to float around holding hands with every girl I could. I fancied myself a player, yeah. What of it? It was mostly to one up the asshole who rubbed it in my face that he sat behind the swings holding Louise Grady's hand. She was my crush back then. So, none of that hand holding crap had been because I was so madly in love with all the girls in my grade.
Far from it.
I think I can safely say my sexuality doesn't necessarily align itself with lady bits. Well, I'm sure people would argue it's a phase or I'm confused. I mean, I've never actually dated a guy, much less done anything with one. But, there's just this feeling. You know these things, especially at this age when it's less cooties and being dumb kids with two second school yard flings. Awesome, yeah? It's whatever, really.
Honestly, I think I'd rather just wait. Sex doesn't necessarily appeal to me beyond "moments", so to speak. And romance at this age? Please, teenagers just like fucking and making out. There's nothing special about high school romance. I use that word loosely when talking about other kids my age.
Of course, I'm certainly not counting the moment in second grade when I used to float around holding hands with every girl I could. I fancied myself a player, yeah. What of it? It was mostly to one up the asshole who rubbed it in my face that he sat behind the swings holding Louise Grady's hand. She was my crush back then. So, none of that hand holding crap had been because I was so madly in love with all the girls in my grade.
Far from it.
I think I can safely say my sexuality doesn't necessarily align itself with lady bits. Well, I'm sure people would argue it's a phase or I'm confused. I mean, I've never actually dated a guy, much less done anything with one. But, there's just this feeling. You know these things, especially at this age when it's less cooties and being dumb kids with two second school yard flings. Awesome, yeah? It's whatever, really.
Honestly, I think I'd rather just wait. Sex doesn't necessarily appeal to me beyond "moments", so to speak. And romance at this age? Please, teenagers just like fucking and making out. There's nothing special about high school romance. I use that word loosely when talking about other kids my age.
I go to therapy. It's nothing serious, really, it's just... I don't know.
My ma, we had this old calico and well, we thought she couldn't get pregnant. We'd gotten her from a neighbor and they said she was around ten or so. Figured we didn't need to get her spade because she never left our house. Don't know why they didn't spade her. Not the case. We found her nursing a litter of eight kittens under our porch. I'm just stating facts when I say we couldn't take care of them. Money constraints barred us from being able to feed nine entire cats for years down the road.
We ended up giving them to my gran and gramps because they had the room, and we just needed to keep them someplace safe. After a week or so, we could go and sell them all, yeah? Maybe they'd keep a few.
Ma told me gramps had issues. He loved too much and too hard sometimes. Apparently they'd had to sell the kittens or something. Some kind of bullshit. I cried for a good week and we didn't so much as mention my grandparents for a month or so. Something wicked fishy about that, now that I think about it.
Of course, that's not why I go to therapy, but I suspect something of it. It lead to a moment where I'd witnessed my grandpa 'loving too hard,' on an animal as my ma said. I don't like talking about that. Suffice to say, ma's glad gramps is dead. She doesn't talking about him, but my therapist sure does like bringing him up.
Loving too hard isn't a euphemism for sex, just by the way. I mean, I hated my gramps, so I wouldn't put it past him to practice bestiality, but that's not it. He just has a great track record of abusing animals.
My ma, we had this old calico and well, we thought she couldn't get pregnant. We'd gotten her from a neighbor and they said she was around ten or so. Figured we didn't need to get her spade because she never left our house. Don't know why they didn't spade her. Not the case. We found her nursing a litter of eight kittens under our porch. I'm just stating facts when I say we couldn't take care of them. Money constraints barred us from being able to feed nine entire cats for years down the road.
We ended up giving them to my gran and gramps because they had the room, and we just needed to keep them someplace safe. After a week or so, we could go and sell them all, yeah? Maybe they'd keep a few.
Ma told me gramps had issues. He loved too much and too hard sometimes. Apparently they'd had to sell the kittens or something. Some kind of bullshit. I cried for a good week and we didn't so much as mention my grandparents for a month or so. Something wicked fishy about that, now that I think about it.
Of course, that's not why I go to therapy, but I suspect something of it. It lead to a moment where I'd witnessed my grandpa 'loving too hard,' on an animal as my ma said. I don't like talking about that. Suffice to say, ma's glad gramps is dead. She doesn't talking about him, but my therapist sure does like bringing him up.
Loving too hard isn't a euphemism for sex, just by the way. I mean, I hated my gramps, so I wouldn't put it past him to practice bestiality, but that's not it. He just has a great track record of abusing animals.
If I had the ability to rewind everything, I'd find a way to get my dad to stay. I know my ma's lost without some kind of guidance. I know that guidance had been my father. She doesn't talk about him, but when she does I can see the longing in her eyes. Either she doesn't want to relive the memories because they hurt or she doesn't want me knowing why he left. I suspect both.
Either way, I'd find a reason to make him stay. I don't know what that is; a kid sure as hell wasn't enough. Neither was the supposed love of his life. But, I'd find a way. I just want ma to be happy again.
Either way, I'd find a reason to make him stay. I don't know what that is; a kid sure as hell wasn't enough. Neither was the supposed love of his life. But, I'd find a way. I just want ma to be happy again.
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tanderbolt Time is the substance I am made of
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. Stephen Rao .
A man's failures imply judgment, not of circumstances, but of himself. -Albert Camus
Inquisitive, Driven, Judgemental, Anxious, Cautious, Introspective, Pessimistic, Knowledgeable, Logical, Unforgiving
- Talking with someone who wants to listen to what I have to say and really think it over
- The moment when a difficult concept finally starts make sense
- When someone tells me that I made the right decision when I'm still questioning my choices
- Seeing an old friend again after a long time away
- Scoring a goal during a soccer game (it didn't happen much even back when I used to play it more often)
To be remembered long after I'm gone, or to make peace with the fact that people will forget me. Maybe I'll write a book that helps explain one of the mysteries of the universe, maybe I'll get a mathematical theorem named after me.
Some people call it an anxiety disorder, and that's what the therapist diagnosed it as. I kind of think of it as thinking too much, there's some thoughts in my head that I can never get to leave, and they end up choking out everything else.
There was one time when I was practically alone in the town library. It was almost closing time and the basement floor was empty except for me and an old man I saw shuffling around between the shelves, looking kind of detached, the librarian was upstairs. I was just reading to myself when I heard a thud, a real powerful one. It startled me enough that I stood up and looked to see what happened. My heart was beating too fast for me to just ignore it and go back to reading. I saw the old man there, fallen down and not moving at all, like he had a medical problem or something. I remember how he looked, had a ratty raincoat on and a pair of shoes that didn't match. I didn't know what to do so I just stood there, then I walked away. I was too caught up in it all to muster up the courage to tell someone, so I left soon after. I guess the librarian found him after I left, never did hear anything more about that. Maybe he had a heart attack and made it through, but I'm not optimistic about his prospects.
There's a large series of things of things contending for it, but I guess I'll choose the last one in the sequence chronologically. There was this time when I was trying to impress this girl, and she barely noticed I existed. When we talked she'd just try to end the conversation as quickly as possible. I wanted to know more about her, and I found her social media profile. She constantly posted about her interests and where she liked to hang out with her friends, so I began to take notes. I built up a whole collection, and started showing up and just "coincidentally" running into her. It still didn't work, and by about the third time she realized something was up and I had to spend some time talking to the school counselor about it.
Someone I can talk with. Somebody who has answers to the questions in life, and is happy enough not to worry about looking for better ones. It's not really about intimacy or anything physical, it's about the feeling of calm, just being around the right person can bring that. That's the kind of thing that's hard to find in this world, you never know what people have buried underneath, so many people look like they've got it together but then the more I get to know the more I see the mess underneath.
I cheated on a math test once. It was one of those big national standardized tests, and I figured out a way to sneak in some notes. I ended up getting the best score in my school, and earned an award that looks real nice on applications. I don't really feel bad about it doing it, but I know people would judge me if they knew.
Well, that opens up a lot of possibilities. I have a bunch of ideas, but the general theme behind them would be starting over with new knowledge. There's an enormous amount mistakes I would like to fix, but I might start with going forward with more direction. I waver too much, get distracted by things that don't affect me day to day, if I could go back I could cut out of the people and things that ended being a waste of time and focus my efforts on the moments that really mattered.
Apokalipse AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
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. Kingsley Quinn .
"Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment." - Buddha
Something I have to remind myself of often - it's something I think all people should live by, even though I don't live by it often.
"We do not remember days, we remember moments." - Cesare Pavese
It's why I like to film everything. I want to remember all the small moments I share with my friends. Years from now, when I'm an old woman on my death bed, I want to be able to play all the special moments of my life as I slowly die. It sounds nice, dying happily.
Something I have to remind myself of often - it's something I think all people should live by, even though I don't live by it often.
"We do not remember days, we remember moments." - Cesare Pavese
It's why I like to film everything. I want to remember all the small moments I share with my friends. Years from now, when I'm an old woman on my death bed, I want to be able to play all the special moments of my life as I slowly die. It sounds nice, dying happily.
Introvert. Reflective. Wry. Gawky. Docile. Curious. Capricious. Melancholic. Paranoid. Cordial.
Sounds a bit pretentious, doesn't it? More like: shy, awkward teenager with the mood swings of a prepubescent school girl. My mother says I have the temperament of Missouri weather - I can change in a moment's notice and without much warning. Like Katy Perry once wisely said, I'm "hot and then I'm cold", "yes and then I'm no", "in and then I'm out". Typically my mood can swing from happy and friendly to rather pensive and quiet. Wondering on small things and getting distracted by something like a window. People say that's my problem, really - I think too much and I often miss my chance to act. It takes me too long to decide to do something that by the time I decide to do it, it's too late.
There's really not that much to me, I guess - little boring, don't like to take chances or put myself out there. I'm your typical school wallflower - I'm always on the sidelines. It's not that I don't want friends - I just have a hard time really getting to know people.
I wish I was like those girls that easily talked in front of others and made friends.
Sounds a bit pretentious, doesn't it? More like: shy, awkward teenager with the mood swings of a prepubescent school girl. My mother says I have the temperament of Missouri weather - I can change in a moment's notice and without much warning. Like Katy Perry once wisely said, I'm "hot and then I'm cold", "yes and then I'm no", "in and then I'm out". Typically my mood can swing from happy and friendly to rather pensive and quiet. Wondering on small things and getting distracted by something like a window. People say that's my problem, really - I think too much and I often miss my chance to act. It takes me too long to decide to do something that by the time I decide to do it, it's too late.
There's really not that much to me, I guess - little boring, don't like to take chances or put myself out there. I'm your typical school wallflower - I'm always on the sidelines. It's not that I don't want friends - I just have a hard time really getting to know people.
I wish I was like those girls that easily talked in front of others and made friends.- Filming my friends with my handy-dandy video camera.
- Days where the air is cold but the sun is shining!
- Inside jokes between friends - the kind where you just share a look and know.
- Mementos. I have a whole drawer just for tickets from movies and concerts that I saw with friends - I keep everything.
- Watching films in a homemade fort.
I want to be a director! It would be so amazing to work in the film industry and make my own films - amazing films that would get awards for their artistic integrity rather than their vapid entertainment value.
My indecisiveness. My worrying. My fear of being rejected. Feels like my whole personality is holding me back sometimes. I think too much about what will be that it's nearly impossible for me to actually live without second-guessing every decision I've ever made. And I hate putting myself out there.
Plus, there's my parents who want me to be a surgeon or doctor or something. I barely convinced them to let me go to Graystone.
Plus, there's my parents who want me to be a surgeon or doctor or something. I barely convinced them to let me go to Graystone.
There was this day when I was twelve and my older sister was at the skatepark on her skateboard. I wanted to film her doing some tricks and I had my camera with me as I sat nearby filming. But the angle wasn't that good - so I climbed the halfpipe and stood on the top in order to get a good angle of my sister skateboarding. It turned out really well, actually, I still have the videos. When it came time to get off the halfpipe to come home, I panicked. I'm terrified of heights and I was too scared to slide down the halfpipe ramp and it was too hard to climb down the other way that I came up. I cried in front of everybody - it was embarrassing, really. Eventually, I found a way to climb down with the help of some teenager and my sister.
I don't know why this memory always sticks out - but it's something I remember like it was yesterday.
I don't know why this memory always sticks out - but it's something I remember like it was yesterday.
Letting my parents boss me around. Even though I'm attending the school of my dreams, after I graduate, I'll be heading off to an Ivy League school so I can get the best education I can for my future as a surgeon. My parents always get what they want out of me. I probably shouldn't have made that deal to become a surgeon if I got to go to Graystone, but this is probably the closest I'll get to my lifelong dream.
I want a whirlwind romance. Something that sweeps me up and is intense and something I never experienced before. I guess it's because my life is so monotone, so dull and predictable. I want someone that catches me like a spiderweb and takes me from my life into adventures that you only see in movies like Indiana Jones.
I have a list: I'm bisexual, I struggle with an addiction to over-the-counter medicine, I have anxiety.
But I think the biggest thing I've never told anyone - is that I hate people so much. Those people who can talk to others so easily, who can proudly stand in front of a class and present, who can make jokes with teachers, whose name is known by everyone - even the principal and the janitors. My parents are like that and I hate them for it. I don't know if I hate it because I find it annoying or because I'm envious.
But I think the biggest thing I've never told anyone - is that I hate people so much. Those people who can talk to others so easily, who can proudly stand in front of a class and present, who can make jokes with teachers, whose name is known by everyone - even the principal and the janitors. My parents are like that and I hate them for it. I don't know if I hate it because I find it annoying or because I'm envious.
Say yes to going to the dance with Roy Brewer in the seventh grade. Maybe then I would've had a chance to break out of my shell and be more open. Roy Brewer was especially popular in school and I could've made a lot of friends and gotten used to putting myself out there. It's much too late for me now. Sorry, Roy Brewer. Though to be fair, he was an asshole and called me a bitch every other day.
MiddleEarthRoze The Ultimate Pupper
Member
Seen
5 yrs ago
. Liliana "Lily" Michaels .
"I will find my way, I can go the distance. I'll be there some day, if I can be strong. I know every mile, will be worth my while..."
Ugh, this better stay in my journal. I have a cynical and pessimistic reputation to keep up, and the fact that my favourite quote is from a Disney movie song is kinda pathetic. But still, Hercules is pretty awesome - especially the original myth. Anyway, those words tend to give me hope. Just because bad things happen - and they will happen - you can overcome it. Unless the Greek Gods are real and just enjoy messing around with people. In which case, we're all screwed.
Ugh, this better stay in my journal. I have a cynical and pessimistic reputation to keep up, and the fact that my favourite quote is from a Disney movie song is kinda pathetic. But still, Hercules is pretty awesome - especially the original myth. Anyway, those words tend to give me hope. Just because bad things happen - and they will happen - you can overcome it. Unless the Greek Gods are real and just enjoy messing around with people. In which case, we're all screwed.
1) Cynical: Yup, I'm the bitch that brings the dark cloud over the sun. I mean, I'm not miserable all the time. But I'm the first person to make that sarcastic comment, or point out all the bad shit that'll happen if somebody tries to rope me into something stupid. I'll still go along with them, but only to stop the idiot from killing themselves. And... slightly enjoy myself too.
2) Reckless: What, you didn't get that from my first point? I can easily point out bad things in something - but I can still go along with it and enjoy myself. Example; Taking a motorbike for a drive out in the woods is dangerous; I could fall off, break my neck, be paralysed for life. I don't have much off-road experience - will I do it anyway? You're goddamn right I will!
3) Independent: I don't like to rely too much on other people; I've done that in the past, and it's rarely turned out well. I'd rather take care of my own problems by myself - the less people that get involved means less people will get hurt. Or, it'll mean less interference.
4) Uncertain: Guess you could also say indecisive... I'm not really great at making my mind up. Impulsive decisions are not a common thing for me - you wouldn't have thought so considering my recklessness, huh? But the big things, like life choices and moving schools and stuff. I can never make them. Sometimes I can be so undecided that I'll just pick a random choice, just so it's over with. Guess that's my own type of impulsive behaviour then, huh?
5) Motorbikes: Who needs a car when you have a bike? It's one of the few decent presents that my parents have bought for me - probably relieved I didn't ask for a Mercedes like my brother. Bikes are cheaper all round, from lessons to taxes. Anyway, I love my Suzy, and she's a hell of a ride.
6) Black. Lots of black: What? I like the colour - it looks great on me.
7) PIRATES, ARGGGGGG
8) Dogs: I smuggled a dalmatian clean across the country just to keep him! Of course I love dogs.
9) Dork: I'm a huge one, but it's a secret. Only my closest friends and family know I enjoy disney and musicals. Ugh, if some people were aware that I know Mulan off by heart, I'd never hear the end of it.
10) Art History; Well, not Art history specifically. It's more Art, and then History. The combination of the two is stone-cold boring, unless it's from a Dan Brown novel or something. I love those mysterious, puzzle plots where you need to be an expert in Boticelli or something to solve the riddles. A murder mystery like that would really wake up this town! If... it weren't for the already dead chick... yikes. Too soon?
2) Reckless: What, you didn't get that from my first point? I can easily point out bad things in something - but I can still go along with it and enjoy myself. Example; Taking a motorbike for a drive out in the woods is dangerous; I could fall off, break my neck, be paralysed for life. I don't have much off-road experience - will I do it anyway? You're goddamn right I will!
3) Independent: I don't like to rely too much on other people; I've done that in the past, and it's rarely turned out well. I'd rather take care of my own problems by myself - the less people that get involved means less people will get hurt. Or, it'll mean less interference.
4) Uncertain: Guess you could also say indecisive... I'm not really great at making my mind up. Impulsive decisions are not a common thing for me - you wouldn't have thought so considering my recklessness, huh? But the big things, like life choices and moving schools and stuff. I can never make them. Sometimes I can be so undecided that I'll just pick a random choice, just so it's over with. Guess that's my own type of impulsive behaviour then, huh?
5) Motorbikes: Who needs a car when you have a bike? It's one of the few decent presents that my parents have bought for me - probably relieved I didn't ask for a Mercedes like my brother. Bikes are cheaper all round, from lessons to taxes. Anyway, I love my Suzy, and she's a hell of a ride.
6) Black. Lots of black: What? I like the colour - it looks great on me.
7) PIRATES, ARGGGGGG
8) Dogs: I smuggled a dalmatian clean across the country just to keep him! Of course I love dogs.
9) Dork: I'm a huge one, but it's a secret. Only my closest friends and family know I enjoy disney and musicals. Ugh, if some people were aware that I know Mulan off by heart, I'd never hear the end of it.
10) Art History; Well, not Art history specifically. It's more Art, and then History. The combination of the two is stone-cold boring, unless it's from a Dan Brown novel or something. I love those mysterious, puzzle plots where you need to be an expert in Boticelli or something to solve the riddles. A murder mystery like that would really wake up this town! If... it weren't for the already dead chick... yikes. Too soon?
- Old, dilapidated buildings. There's just something so cool about old things - except old people. Old people can be creepy. But buildings, sure! Exploring them always makes me pretty darn happy.
- Stupid humour. I know a lot of people don't appreciate stuff like slapstick and punny jokes, but I live off them. You know someone's really great when they can laugh at anything - even better if they can pull off a good joke about it too.
- Fireworks. It's not just the way they light up the sky with gorgeous colours - but it's something you can enjoy with anyone. Back home in Washington, whenever there was a big fireworks display for 4th of July or something, the entire community would just come together. People brought drinks, barbecues, sparklers for the kids and marshmallows for the fires. You'd have people laughing and huddling together against the cold, forgetting about arguments unless too much alcohol got flowing. All this good stuff... for fireworks. So yeah, they're pretty special.
- Ice cream. It doesn't matter about the flavour, or the temperature outside. Ice cream is, and always will be, my comfort food. I'd have a bowl of Ben and Jerry's on the coldest day in winter, and still feel the warmth of happiness inside.
- Horror. Man, everyone back home thought I was a goth because I wore black all the time and enjoyed scary movies. Black is a nice colour, okay? And horror - I don't know. There's something about the suspense that I enjoy - makes you feel alive! Besides, some horror movies and games are just laughable. Sometimes you look at the effects and think, "Man, strawberry jam would have looked better!".
I'm obsessed with history, so to be able to get into ancient ruins to study and draw them would be amazing. God, I would kill to get into the Vatican archives too - they have original documents that Galileo himself made. Galileo!!! I should definitely work on my Italian.
Hm... I guess there's a lot. I don't know - I could sit here all day and blame everything under the sun for things that have happened in my life. But that's the case for everybody, right? I suppose if I think hard enough about it, it would be my brother. Ever since what happened, he's been keeping a way too close eye on me. I have to sneak around him these days, because I'm worried what he'll do. He's not beyond lying to Mom and Dad to have my money cut back again, that's for sure. Things would go a lot smoother if he wasn't here in Harmonia Harbor.
Visiting Athens with my Uncle. It was for my 16th birthday, and a lot of kids thought I was weird for going to see some old ruins with my weird relative for my "sweet 16". But my God, it was perfect - I'll never forget the way the sun set over the horizon, making the pillars of the Acropolis cast long shadows again the dusty ground... it was amazing, to consider that I was standing in a spot that another girl could have, over 2000 years ago. Why waste a moment like that for some crappy party with terrible decorations like the rest of the girls in my year?
Hell, I don't know. I've made a lot of mistakes in my life. A few more lines have been scribbled out, quite viciously.
Everything comes down to trusting my brother in the past. I shouldn't have - all he's done is made things worse for me.
Everything comes down to trusting my brother in the past. I shouldn't have - all he's done is made things worse for me.
Woah, man. I guess everyone has a type... kinda hard to put it into words though. I've had a handful of partners in my life - some childish crushes, some flings, and some more serious. Some were good, some... well, not so good. After everything that's happened recently, I just want somebody sweet and funny, that won't ever hurt me.
Uh... that came out more "fairy-tale" than I intended. People always hurt people - whether it's intentional or not. It would be nice to find someone aiming for the unintentional type of hurting though - none of this toxic bullshit. Just someone you can hang out with and do stupid things together; but the good kind of stupid, like play-fights and eating cookies straight out of the oven even though you know they'll burn your tongue.
God, I'm sounding like a idealistic princess again. Somebody who isn't an asshole - that'd be nice. Oh, and maybe taller than me too - I like being the little spoon. Best position for cuddling, and... other things.
Uh... that came out more "fairy-tale" than I intended. People always hurt people - whether it's intentional or not. It would be nice to find someone aiming for the unintentional type of hurting though - none of this toxic bullshit. Just someone you can hang out with and do stupid things together; but the good kind of stupid, like play-fights and eating cookies straight out of the oven even though you know they'll burn your tongue.
God, I'm sounding like a idealistic princess again. Somebody who isn't an asshole - that'd be nice. Oh, and maybe taller than me too - I like being the little spoon. Best position for cuddling, and... other things.
When I was 8 I stole my Mom's bottle of vodka and drank it all with my friends; my brother got blamed for it and was grounded for like a month.
Nah, I'm kidding. Definitely happened, but I've told so many people that story that it's not really a secret anymore. I guess it would be Barkenstein. The school doesn't allow big animals for pets - just things like rabbits or hamsters. I'd adopted a great big Dalmatian before coming here, so no way was I leaving him in Washington. I have him hidden away nice and safe near the campus, but I can't tell anyone about him. There are so many bitches in this school who'd tell the Principal just to spite me.
Nah, I'm kidding. Definitely happened, but I've told so many people that story that it's not really a secret anymore. I guess it would be Barkenstein. The school doesn't allow big animals for pets - just things like rabbits or hamsters. I'd adopted a great big Dalmatian before coming here, so no way was I leaving him in Washington. I have him hidden away nice and safe near the campus, but I can't tell anyone about him. There are so many bitches in this school who'd tell the Principal just to spite me.
First of all, time-travel would be a sucky power. Ever heard of the butterfly effect? Anyway, I guess this is a no-strings-attached question... I guess I'd like to go back and revisit a favourite memory. Maybe my visit to Athens? Ooh, or seeing my Grandpop one last time before he died.
Ah, who am I kidding? I know fine well where I'd go; back to Washington, to see Lee again. Spend the night in the backyard, looking at the stars and eating junk food. Before the shit hit the fan, and we were just kids being kids. It'd be nice to have her look at me without disgust or annoyance in her eyes.
Ah, who am I kidding? I know fine well where I'd go; back to Washington, to see Lee again. Spend the night in the backyard, looking at the stars and eating junk food. Before the shit hit the fan, and we were just kids being kids. It'd be nice to have her look at me without disgust or annoyance in her eyes.
vFear monochrome boi
Member
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4 yrs ago
. Sonja Tiedeman .
"To achieve great things, two things are needed: a plan and not quite enough time." Leonard Bernstein said that one. That one doesn't go alone, though: "Rule number one is, don’t sweat the small stuff. Rule number two is, it’s all small stuff." How do those two go together? Well, just to spite you for reading my journal, I'm going to let you figure that one out on your own.
Relaxed, creative, I like to think I'm pretty funny, defiantly curious... Pretty great? Likes to talk to myself in handwriting? Next time I'm doing this on the computer so I can type a bunch of stuff and change the text color to white.
- Photography.
- Acoustic music.
- Animals - in particular the fluffy and friendly ones.
- Good vibes.
- Surprises, or well, the good ones.
Admittedly I don't really think about the future that much, but I'm definitely after a career in photography. I might even study at university so I can put off becoming an adult for longer.
Another thing I don't really think about, but... I don't really take life that seriously? I'm only really cruising and don't see myself changing anytime soon; or well, cruising by prestigious art school standards, anyway.
The memory I can remember the clearest, with photographic clarity would be... taking this really nice photo not too long after getting into photography, a photo of a view from a bridge, and getting it printed, framed, the works. The reason I remember it so well is because it's right here on my desk. Heh.
I think my biggest mistake was not being fast enough, with mum and dad. But it all worked out in the end, so no need to stress the small stuff.
I'm not a very romantic person, I rarely think or look into this sort of thing, but.. from what I've seen of myself, my ideal partner is someone who's my best friend. I'm not saying that because of the whole 'lover and best friend' thing, as in, my ideal partner is someone I can call names and punch in the arm and stuff like that comfortably; like I said, I'm not very romantic. As for what they're like and even gender I guess, I'm not too worried about it.
I don't really like bringing this up, but.. when I was younger, maybe 11 or 12, mum and dad didn't get along at all and I really wasn't doing well with it. That's why I got into photography: at first it was a new hobby, something my mum wanted me to have with it all going on at home, but then I decided to take matters into my own hands. I hid under the dining room table for half an hour three nights in a row and eventually, I caught my father in the act, and I took photos. With all of the evidence, one thing led to another and, despite what mum's lawyer thought might happen, dad was actually sent to prison for assault occasioning actual bodily harm and has no custody of me. They've been split up since. I'm really not sure how mum felt about me doing that, but she's definitely happier now, and that makes me happy too, but.. I wish he was still around, for some reason. He hasn't been the same, since he left.
Oh wow, I really poured my heart out here didn
Oh wow, I really poured my heart out here didn
If I could turn back time, I think I'd try and pick up photography earlier. The whole thing with domestic violence went on for far too long, if I caught it in the act earlier.. maybe dad might have been just on a bond for common assault, and everything could have gone back to normal.
Barrett Oh, the year was 1778...
Member
Seen
6 yrs ago
. Alan Locke .
Whatever you say or do, remember there's always someone watching you.
Perceptive, prepared, precocious, observant, ostracised, outmoded, artistic, awkward, afraid... Locked.
- Oil on water.
- The crackle of old paper.
- Looking down from on high.
- Steam from fresh coffee.
- The clack-clack of a camera shutter.
- Step 1: Survive school.
- Step 2: Graduate & getaway.
- Step 3: Use camera to get cash.
- Step 4: Keep head down.
Some small stoppages. Social anxiety (crippling) and fear of detection (constant) are the main ones but there's also all the classic teenage problems; schoolwork, sexual confusion, peer pressure and all the others. At this rate, getting through the day will be an accomplishment.
My uncle took me out into the woods to go bird-watching, a hobby of his. It was sort of scary, he gave me these looks of thunder and doom if I made the slightest sound. But after we'd been there for half an hour, this beautiful wren flitted down to land in front of us. It didn't do much, just hopped around and scratched at the floor, but there was something profoundly beautiful about the way it moved, totally unaware of our presence. It pecked at the ground a little, scratched with its claws and chirped mindlessly. Then I coughed, I couldn't help it, and the bird flew away.
Asking my parents to help me with my social issues. It made them worry and made them think it was their problem and I know they have problems enough of their own. If I was stronger, smarter, more sensible, then I would've kept it to myself and overcome them without burdening others.
I don't like anyone in particular and I'm not even sure if there's a particular group of people I like more or less than others. The only thing I know for certain is that I'm... drawn to those who thrive rather than cringe under a spotlight.
So many things... The biggest would be that after my parents took me to the shrink and she prescribed me medication to "combat my issues in an active sense", I never took them. The pills seemed so... invasive, irritating, irrational, far too terrible a remedy for such an insignificant problem. Since then, I've convinced both her and my parents that I'm taking them at the proscribed times. I should never have made it something for them to worry about in the first place. The obstacles that I face inside my own mind should be my problems and no one else.
Change everything about myself. It's not that I'm entirely dissatisfied with who I am, I have my good points, but going back and reliving my formative experiences would let me recreate myself. I could learn to be the centre of attention without wanting to shed my skin from embarrassment or at the very least been strong enough to keep my private problems private.
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