"Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves." ~Henry David Thoreau
"You cannot dream yourself into a character; you must hammer and forge yourself one. " ~James A. Froude
"Trying to define yourself is like trying to bite your own teeth." ~Alan Watts
Am I Cursed with Awesome?
Today I want to change.
I'm sick of being told what I can and can't do! I want to dress like a pirate and host a tea party on the ceiling. And I want you to tell me that that doesn't sound crazy, at all.
I'm sick of being told how i feel, or what I meant by doing something. It's me, Not you. forging an identity in this ice storm. Trying to see through the sand, to live to the heat. And when will it ever get hot again? It's so fucking cold, I keep thinking I'll freeze my toes off. Today, I tripped on a patch of ice on my way to school, and had to go in covered in snow
Graceful...As always.
But then again, I've had worse klutz moments, like when me and my ex were running across a street without a crosswalk (Jay-walking is fun! It's the only danger I've got left) and i trip over the curb and go flying onto the grass in front of the sidewalk. Or when after doing something in the caf, with my vocal class last year, I went to lean on a table that wasn't fully unfolded, and completely fell over.
I am the biggest Klutz in the world! I even trip over my own feet!
It's always at the worst possible times. Whenever I'm trying to impress someone.
If you knew me, and saw how much of a boring goody-goody I seem to be, it would shock you to see that I want to get a bunch of ear piercings and always wear hoops and studs with my dangling ones. I have plans for at least two tattoos, a red winged heart with a treble clef in the middle, on my hip, and a rosary bracelet looped around my right wrist, I'm not religious at all, I just like the way it looks.They'll also be motivation to stay thin.This Valentine's Day, I'll be alone. Again. Somehow my short relationships never seem to corespond with the date. So I'll pamper myself with a face mask, black nail polish, an obsenely large box of chocolates and "Paris Je t'aime" or "Lolita" playing illegally on my laptop. God, I love Valentine's candy! Ooh those little conversation hearts (yellow and white only) and those cinnamon hearts! I love trying to see how many I can handle in my mouth before it gets to hot, or I burst out laughing. (this sentance sounds vaguely sexual. All completely accidental, I swear)
And as much as I complain about being alone, It does allow me a freedom to make my own plans, and to decide who i am, and who I want to be, on my own terms. More and More, I'm realizing that I am becoming a person that I love. A person I would fall in love with. So easily.
I love that I get a chance to create myself independant from anyone else, cultivate my own identity seperate from anyone else, or from what they expect me to be.
I can be who I want, regardless of who anyone wants me to be. I can keep my head in the clouds and my feet floating aimlessly above the ground.
I laugh bemused at the picture of me, and I know exactly what I'll be. For now...
Today, I'm excited by my bright orange nails, my waved hair (which is somehow fading back to blonde in patches), My red cheeks, My perfectly fitted jeans, and baby doll shoes. But in my uniform I feel like a lemming without the sense to stray from the herd, and ready to fallow them off a cliff, and it's feeling increasingly like pajamas expecially in the sunshine coming out of the portables. Its pathetically surreal, with everyone in the same outfit, freezing to death worse in the fridgid school than outside in the negative twenty degree weather, seriously my teeth chattered all through english today (ever hear of heating, BR?) And getting covered in salt everyday as I trudge home from school, falling over myself and laughing like a crazy person (your theories on space zombies make sense to me!)
I seriously think I want to burn it when I graduate. I said the same thing about my math textbook, but I decided it wasn't worth 60 bucks, and my notebook, full of crap poems and bubblegum drawings was worth much more. If I ever succeed, my math notebook can be part of my exhibit at the Met....or the Halton Regional Museum. (scary)
So much for catharsis!
The more bored I am in a class, the more creativity I get through. And math was always the thorn in my side. Explaining my notebooks full of fashion designs in grade nine and ten, and my pathetic poetry explosion last year (should I actually waste my time trying to get my book published?).
Today, I had what i can only decribe as an out-of-body experience. I was on my way to history class, and I looked in the glass of the school doors and saw a careless, dark haired girl, who was laughing and not looking at where she was going. I thought she was kind of pretty, in a childish way, and I just watched for a second. She didn't move, I didn't move and I realized that she was me. And I thought for a minute, I actually get to be her! I actually get to walk around feeling this way!
Secretly,
I've never really felt pretty. And it has nothing to do with feeling fat, I feel better now than I did at 80 pounds in grade nine, better than at 90 pounds in grade 10, and I'm much worse at the moment, and no longer bordering on Anorexia. Sometimes now, I get a glimpse of myself and think of myself as pretty, and then I feel guilty. I've been raised to deeply into karma, and even though I don't believe in religion, or a God, persay, I'll admit...my mother got to me. I keep thinking that if I think things like this, I'll get punished and be made to look ugly, and actually ugly, not just the ugliness I feel when, I look in the mirror after letting myself have something as simple as a chocolate bar, or after failing at something, I had my heart set on (It happens too often) . Then I have to recount it by thinking of myself as worthless, and pig-like and banging my head againist the wall.
Maybe its my glasses. I hate them, but I blink too much to get the fucking contacts into my eyes, and for now I'm stuck. I swear, though as soon as I'm old enough, I'm getting laser eye surgery. I don't care about danger or pain. I'm just
But without the glasses, I look like a child, and my face looks almost indecently revealed, like I am used to seeing, myself behind veils, behind wisps of gauze.
But that's not even My biggest problem.
The trouble is...While I know exactly who I am and where I want to be, I'm having a hard time expressing it.
Sometimes I think I am only able to be myself, alone in front of the mirror, when everyone else's asleep. I still dress-up, in crazy, ankle breaking heels and strands of derelict pearls. I pander, and vamp, pretending to be more than a silly girl in costume, pretending to actually slip into other people's lives, so I can escape my own.
I'm Mrs. Lovett with my hair pinned back at haphazard angles, in a black lace shirt, thick belt, short skirt and combat like boots. I'm Alice in my little blue dress, the pinafore my mother bought me when i was six, stripped stockings, and heeled maryjanes. I'm a John Waters Character in leopard print leggings, black beetle boots, a denim skirt and stolen leather jacket. I'm Harley Quinn in a red dress from elementary school that used to reach my knees, and now barely covers my thighs, my card suits jewelry, one leg in a red stocking, one in black, and my hair in high pigtails. I'm a Little Girl with low braids, kneesocks, and Dr. Pepper lip smackers. I'm a Doll with a hairbow, circles of blush on pink cheeks, exagerated eyeliner, and bright red lipstick on the middle of my lips making them small and heart shaped.
I have fun. But then on Halloween, I show up a school in a stupidly matching black and orange outfit, and look like I was scared to live a little. No, I'm not just dressed in 'spirit colours', I'm a Scaredy cat!
Next year, I'm going as Dorothy and If I get to Oz, I'm never going back to Kansas! I'll have to get those ruby red sequined converse.
In history class monday, we reviewed the Great Person Theory, that great, larger-than-life figures, both good and evil (although things are never truly as black and white, or as opposing in forces. There's so much ambiguity and grey area in real life). And i realized something I've always known.
I'm not a great person.
I'm a leech, a hanger-on. I'll exist on the cusp, the sidelines of history. I'll be devoted and obsessed, a loyal follower of greatness, but it won't really touch me, or shine my way. I'm a shadowboxer, a bobby soxer, who only exchanges crosswords. Clashing by night. I'm a supporting player, but the drama has yet to begin.
You know what would be interesting? If they left us to our own devices, cut us off , at the knees, and set our world out to sea. Us left in what's let of the World. In a veritable No Man's Land.Things would be different. We'd see chaos rule.
I think I could hold my own.
I'd arm myself with a stapler and a cheese grater, and have a good time crawling through the chaos.
'Cause I've a got tricks of my own! No matter how weak and disturbed I may seem.
It'd probably do me some good to let it out.
A Serious Earth? Perish The Thought
I'm wondering if two nemesises (nemesisi?) can ever do each other in, or if they'll just keep fighting forever? If they're two sides of the same coin, two of a kind in suits, can one exist without the other? Or is it an eternal battle? Until the world just, up and ends.
I think so. But I don't have anything, a nemesis or a soul mate, at least not yet. Maybe someday.
Where are MY Lovers and Madmen? How long must I wait?
Seriously stand back, I'm gonna snap
"You're not a king, Jack. Just a Fool" - Scriptie Lger.
"Madness, as you know, is like gravity. All it takes is a little push!" - The Joker, TDK
And is it really true? Am I one day away?
Why am I so fucking cryptic? Do i think someone will decipher the code, and fall in love with me?
Do I make obscure coments and references, in hopes that someone will get them , and i'll find someone, who I'm meant for?
My strange and self abuse warrents hard use.
"i love you
i miss you
i cannot see your face
invent a new persona
drunk here on the edge of space
all the things i carry with me
and all the things i left behind
and all the things that wait to meet me
hover in the air tonight
if i can only keep on moving
and never stop and think of me
and free fall through the years and decades
terminal velocity"
- Charlotte Gainsbourg, AF607105
I'm not scared of all those french films about trains. I say bring 'em on. I watched an hour of Edie Sedgwick talking out of focus, in "Poor Little Rich Girl".
But I just love this. This. This is what I want:
Andy Warhol: I wonder if people are going to remember us?
Edie Sedgwick: What, when we're dead?
Andy Warhol: Yeah.
Edie Sedgwick: Well I think people will talk about how you changed the world.
Andy Warhol: I wonder what they'll say about you... in your obituary. I like that word.
Edie Sedgwick: Nothing nice, I don't think.
Andy Warhol: No no, come on. They'd say, "Edith Minturn Sedgwick: beautiful artist and actress...
Edie Sedgwick: ...and all around loon.
Andy Warhol: ...Remembered for setting the world on fire...
Edie Sedgwick: ...and escaping the clutches of her terrifying family...
Andy Warhol: ...Made friends with eeeeverybody, and anybody...
Edie Sedgwick: ...creating chaos and uproar wherever she went. Divorced as many times as she married, she leaves only good wishes behind. [laughs]
Edie Sedgwick: That's nice, isn't it?
-Factory Girl
Yes. It is.
Stand Back...'Cause
I'll self destruct on 5.
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5!!
Blast-Off,
Your Catch of The Day
