2:49 p.m. - 2004-11-14
\"the more I hang around you, the more hang-ups i get\"
On second thought, let�s not go to Camelot because you are tiring and your armor is far from shiny. Let�s sit around and question everything, including each other, because we�re so very good at that. I need someone to tell me that as messed up as everything gets and as much as we all want to scream sometimes, it does not matter in the least. I�ve done it for you countless times. Return the favor. Sometimes being a bitch is the only way to get heard.
You may be surprised to find that I am not down in the least right now. Not at all. I�m just�.thinking. Yeah, I�ve been doing that a lot lately. I hope you haven�t noticed because I try to have fun when the opportunity arises and I have, but my mind is someplace else and what better place to sound crazy then an online diary? Really, who comes up with these ideas? Spilling you�re secrets to who you can trust the very least: the world.
I could write about what�s been going on lately and how much fun it�s been, but if you cared at all, you were there and you have your own memories and I won�t interfere with that.
I�m starting to figure out what I want�or at least what I�m willing to let myself want and I think that says something. I mean, I think it means that everything is really better off then we all make it out to be. We can obviously put everything aside for a while and get lost. We�re pretty good at that I think. I could tell you everything right now and I could have then, but I won�t let myself. I know what the consequences would have been and they aren�t worth the risk. It�s going to be okay. Really.
Some days are harder then others and you just have to take a deep breath and hold on because night will always come and there�s always someplace to hide. I hate how so many people feel the need to hold everything in. I do it too, but I wish that I wouldn�t feel like a hypocrite going around and telling people to scream. Let�s all do it right now. I bet we�ll feel better. Come on. This is to all the broken hearted, the unmanageably angered, the overly lonely, the overly stressed, the immensely bored, and the ridiculously self assured: scream. We can do it all together so we won�t feel as stupid. I bet we�ll all feel better.
I wish everyone liked tea and the Beatles. Tea makes everything a little more bearable. Just ask my grandmother, she thinks it solves everything. I was brainwashed into believing that too. I wish skittles on pepperoni pizza actually tasted good, because it�s really disgusting. Really, it tastes like spicy fruit covered in saucy cheese. It is not good. I wish it was because then it might make it a bit more exciting.
I hate how ridiculously lazy I am, well, that�s not the right word. I have energy and I hate wasting it, but I think I might have more potential then I try to achieve. I mean, fulfilling my potential would really cut in on my trying to make plans time and what would I do without that? Well, I�d obviously be less bored, but don�t try reasoning with me on this because it�s not a logical situation and I�ll have really bad comebacks.
I am terrible with comebacks. I really am. This is my typical comeback:
�I hate [insert object]�
�Well, it hates you�
Yes, I am your idol. I must be.
I love when my dad sings alone with the music I am listening to. I love it especially when he�s sings along with the Beatles. It makes me smile because it does. I don�t really need a reason. I just love that he knows how into music I am I guess. I mean, he still doesn�t know how old I am or my birthday or how many earrings are in my ears, but he knows the music I listen to and for us that�s worth it. Sometimes he takes me to the hardware store with him on Sundays and we listen to oldies and we sing along to the radio together and we laugh, because neither of us can sing.
It�s scientifically proven that we don�t start to have memories until we are around 3 or 4 and I find it ironic that my first memory is about my dad. We aren�t as close as my mom and me and that makes it nice. My first memory is in helping my dad, well, more like watching my dad, as he washed his truck one Sunday afternoon and singing along to Don Mclean as he sang to us and only us �American Pie�. My dad never used to work on Sundays except around the house and the radio used to always be on oldies and I used to dance and do the dishes and vacuum, because I was the only daughter to ever do housework and I still am, which is why the house is always a mess now. Sundays are so corporate now. It�s all business and running around and too much homework. Taking Back Sunday is more then a band; it�s a philosophy, as corny as that sounds.
I hate how robotic everything seems lately; so routine and precise. Even conversation has a pattern.
�Hey.�
�Hey. How are you?�
�Fine. How are you?�
�I�m okay, thanks.�
Maybe that�s me being bored with life for a bit, but it seems like there shouldn�t have to be a certain way to do everything. Some things should be left to creation and imagination.
I sort of wish I had the influence to start some form of a revolution, whether it be town spread or just in the school, or anything. I just sort of want to make a difference some how. I want things to change for the better. I am a fixer. It�s all I�ve known, really. My family isn�t broken, but we�re certainly different and I�m trained. I was taught to be the helper, the fixer, the listener, the doer. I hate waiting around for other people to do something or help me, because I have never known that. I was taking care of my grandmother, single handedly, when I was 6. That included doing chores, getting her dressed, cooking for her, helping her in and out of bed and to and from her chair, pushing her around in her wheel chair and making sure all my homework was done. I don�t know how to be told there is a problem and not be able to think of something to do about it. I have to be simplistic and logical and when I can�t fix something, I try anyways. I don�t like asking for help, because I always expect to be let down and I hate being told I can�t do it alone. Maybe I�m spiteful, but if you tell me I am unable to do something, I swear I�ll try that much harder to prove I can. You�re really better off to just say silent. If you tell me I can sit down, I�ll stay standing and if you tell me to join in on the game, I won�t, just because you said to. I bet you could keep me alive by telling me I had a fatal disease.
I don�t know. That�s becoming one of my most used phrases lately and that will eventually annoy me. That shouldn�t be a response for as much as it is, but until I actually have answers, it�s always �I don�t know�.
Take a million pictures in black and white and arrange them in your favorite scene and I�ll be able to write a story about what happened and imagine it is color. �When we dream in color, it�s the same as black and white.� It won�t matter, but it could be entertaining.
This is becoming long and boring, so I�ll retreat from whatever it is that I was trying to accomplish here, but remember, I�m still waiting for someone to tell me that none of this matters. I�m still waiting for someone to say that I should shut up and stop complaining because there is no conspiracy, it�s not everyone else that is different, and you can never really have anyone else until you�ve found a state of self reliance.
Someday everything is going to be different and it�s going to be amazing and it�s going to be so real. You are so real. We are all so real, but we�re too robotic to be able to tell the difference. After all, reality is now just another way to make a few bucks on television , and that is certainly an accomplishment.
�Smiles await you when you rise�
