I'm An Awful Person

Because I'm given everything and all I want to do is hang out with my friends and play the banjo.

I'm pretty irresponsible, I know. I'm an attention whore. I don't care about anything in life but my friends, my parents, my dog, my music, my instruments, my God, and my Sufjan. But it's okay. Everything has its piece of time, and right now it is my time to be this crazy person. Later, I can be somebody else. I will be okay.

I'm supposed to have my valedictorian speech written by 9 am tomorrow so I can rehearse it, but right now I have a little bit written down. And I just want to go to school to see my underclassmen friends!! GAH. It's a beautiful time, the beginning of summer. The end of summer sucks. Because at the end of summer you're like "Holy Fuck, I have to leave my friends and go to college and not see them for MONTHS! AH!" but right now I'm just like "Yay. Let's have fun and be assholes and have fun because we have 3 months to do it!!!" And it's okay.

Sometimes it's great to be 18 years old, driving around, listening to Voxtrot on full blast, with a hipster stick in your mouth. I recommend it.

White Snow Red

I was following the pack, all swallowed in their coats.


White Winter Hymnal. Yep. Soundtrack of my past week.

I really think I am becoming one of those people. You know, those people. Those annoying people who want everything they can't have. I really think I'm like that. If there's something, or someone, I can't have, I want it. It's an awful disease, because you usually end up with nothing. The thing about me, though, is I realize I'm doing something wrong, but I don't stop it. Because it makes me so happy for a moment to believe these wonderful, impossible dreams. It only takes a year or two for disappointment to set in. But that time, it is so sweet and glorious... Believing these dreams. If only, right? Oh well. Sometimes life just plain old hurts... Like seriously hurts. Luckily, God made music, love, and friendship to help that.

I went to my first-ever funeral today. It was for a girl who was my age, who died of cancer. I went up to see her in her casket, and I never felt older. It was the first dead person I've ever seen, and she looked beautiful and alive. She looked prettier than anyone there. And that's a good thing.

The funny thing about dead stuff is that I always think it will come back. When Roxie got put down about a year ago, I held her as she died. I could literally feel the heartbeat leave her little cancerous body. As it slowed, I thought maybe some crazy miracle would bring it back to speed, normal, healthy, like nothing ever happened. When she did die, I thought she would jump back to life. I thought she was sleeping. Putting her in a garbage bag felt so wrong to me, because I thought she would wake up and be scared. It's all just wishful thinking, really. I'm just not good at dealing with permanence.

I still can't believe that Theresa is dead. I remember hearing she had cancer, then that she was close to death, then that she died. I found out that she died on my birthday. I still can't believe it. Even after a whole funeral mass, I still can't believe it.

Dreamt Last Night

I had a horrible, beautiful dream last night that I know will never come true. You were hiding in a tunnel and I found you; it was a happy moment, and you kissed me. That's when I knew it was dream and not real. Then I woke up and heard my parents arguing. You know, with all the stuff my family has been through for 10 years, I thought it'd be something serious. My brother was in jail. Or dead. Or my grandma was dead. Or something, you know? I'm the kind of person that jumps to the worst conclusions. Death or incarceration. But no, when I walked downstairs and asked, they were arguing about tile cleaners, which filled me with a mix of laughter and relief and disbelief. Tile cleaners. Really.

Ah well. There's a lot to be done today. English paper, Physics test... Well admittedly, that's it. It's not much work, but it's time consuming. I really don't know what to do with myself. I just like when I had good dreams like the one last night. Mainly my dreams involve me having to stab somebody, or somebody shooting me, or something going up in flames or down with a crash. Usually my dreams just make me want someone else's brain  for a night, just to escape the nightmares. Chronic nightmares can really mess with you, ya know.

Well, there's not much else to say. Wish me patience!

Boy Short

It's sold and bought.


I have written two songs. One is about leaving someone or something you love and have grown accustomed to. The other one is about a girl I went to school with freshman year, who is now dying. Why not me? I am a bad person. Even for saying.
I want to take all of the ugliness in the world: the cancerous cells, the crying faces, the worried women: and fill it with music.
But here's what I want to do. I want to find someone, pull them into the warm summer night, and drive endless miles until morning; just in silence.

You Make It Beautiful, Friend

You make it worth it to the end.

Today, April 2, 2012, is a momentous day. It truly is. It was a lovely day, driving through the rougher parts of my lovely state and seeing the wildflowers grow in the streets and yards of strangers. Not going to school until 11 AM. I wish I could do this everyday. If I could, I would spend everyday driving around the country, playing tennis, reading Hemingway, gardening, and conversing with my dearest friends.

I had such fun today. I don't like days where some grand, false event happens, like a school dance or a first date... The kind of days where you know you are supposed to be happy. I don't like supposing to be happy, and I don't like events that plan for a good time or a smile. Because these joys just come in life, if you have everything sorted out right and true; you don't really need school dances or first dates to be happy. Just a jig in the rain and a kiss on the palm will do.

There was a small moment today, where I smiled and the person I was smiling at had this look of confusion. Sometimes I think I smile too big, greet too happily. Look like I'm in love. I'm really not. I have a lot of good things in my heart, but also a lot of evil. The human heart is truly the harbouring home for God and the devil; the pulpit at which both preach; the stand at which both debate a side. Lord knows I've seen a lot, but there's a lot more to see.

So now I'm all alone, finishing off a day exactly how it's meant to be finished: reading French literature, listening to Sufjan Stevens, and sipping ice water. That's love and that's happiness for me now; it's enough to hold me over into adulthood.

Almost Summer

It's almost summer and almost college and almost something new. I'm not used to this, when I've seen the same 33 faces for some time. It's going to be very strange.

I don't know if I'm the only one here, but if anybody reads this, I'd appreciate an answer:

I'm a relatively hardworking person. I get all A's. I take piano lessons and do well. I am in clubs and sometimes in sports. But I just don't see myself ever having a career. When people talk about their "careers", they talk about it as if it's something wonderful, that truly brings joy to my life. The only benefit I see to a career is earning money. Am I alone here, or do other people agree: careers do not seem all that fantastic? If I had my way with life (which, Lord knows, I never will) I'd spend my life traveling, helping, doing farm work, and reading. That's it. Really.

Am I just weird?

Anyways. My dream is to become a graceful ballerina. And contemporary dancer. Wouldn't take be amazing? I don't even dance, you know, and when I do I look very robotic; but I dream of a day when I can look nice while dancing. I am too embarrassed sometimes, even at school dances where it is dark and nobody cares. Normally I don't care what people think about me, but I care what I think about myself. Yeah, it'd be really nice to dance. I hope if I ever have a little girl, she will beg me to enroll her in ballet school at age 4, because I would. I'd enroll her in the best damn ballet school in the world.

You Are The Rock

You are the one when I watch myself.

I learned how to play "Happy Birthday" by Sufjan Stevens on guitar and banjo today. That means today was good.

I don't know what much else to say.