Such A Pretty Little Girl...

Previously, I've agonized over whether or not I am a good writer, whether or not people will consider me a good writer, but really, all that really does matter in whether I consider myself a writer at all...And I do. I'm still young, inexperienced to much of the world, but there's no denying that I have a voice. Not profound, gonzo voice of a generation, by any stretch of the imagination, but its something. The writing I admire, the writing that inspires me to create my own, fill pages with thoughts beautiful and ugly and above all mine, came out of living, meeting people seeing new things, and experimenting in all senses of the word, and I wonder if I'll ever get my chance, and I wonder.... if I get it, will I take it?

I keep saying, reassuring myself that my real life will begin when I get out here, get onto the boat, but that's what I say about everything, and anything. I say things will
And even now, I look around and see that everyone around me is living, living now.
Am I dead?

No..I'm the living Dead, I'm the life in death. I remind myself of grade eleven english class, these days:

" Her lips were red,
her looks were free,
Her locks were yellow as gold :
Her skin was as white as leprosy,
The Night-mare Life-In-Death was she,
Who thicks man's blood with cold."

- Rime of The Ancient Mariner

Writer's Craft, I can already tell, may redemn me to myself. The all to familar magic of putting a pen to the blank expanse of page, and filling it with myself, painting in with my heart, and watching something so plain, so full of possibility, became my own. Friday Free Writing, crafting a story from a photograph sent me through a story of quiet desperation, of unlived lives, that took on a life of its own, ending up with a business man throwing his desk chair out the office window and stealing a convertible.
Why?
Because I made him my own personal Pete Best.

And I remembered, how much writing, can be a journey, letting you see and create new worlds and new people. I go into a trance, where I'm no longer me, and not a character ever, I slip out of my skin, out of my mind, and cease to be. When I'm no one, I can see the others.
I lose track of time, or rather, time stop existing, and suddenly my clock goes off, and I realize I've written through yet another night.
Been a slave to words.

Suddenly I just want to write. Be daisy chained to my (handy dandy) notebook.
Wake me up when the summer starts....I'd set my alarm, but it's not the most reliable.

But all it really takes to set me off, even when I'm reading, make me stare at a page until it becomes meaningless, reading it over and over again, is a pretty word.

I'm obsessed, collecting words like my father and his boxes of Batman comics, or my sister and her TNA sweaters, or my mother and her Vogues.
We all have things we want to own everything of, and I want pretty words.
Or I want them to own me.
Doesn't matter.

Doesn't matter want they mean, where they came from, what they're connected to, just that they sound rich and decadent and paint pictures in the air, tapestries behind my itching eyelids.

Sometimes, a new one rushes over me and I need to scribble it down. No matter what I'm doing, it hammered at my skull not letting me find peace until I commit to the paper. Ideas find me this way too, and sometimes it's like torture.
Sometimes I wish for Writer's Block.

But I've read to much, seen to many movies, and TV shows, to make the wish in waking hours.
We always seem punished by wishes, burned by desires.
They turn on us, casting shadows of regret. But it doesn't stop the wishing.
Maybe one day, I'll yearn for the time when the stories, the words wouldn't leave me alone.
Or for better ideas.

PRETTY (such a simple, overused word, but it's the right word):

She Let Her Downfall In The Front Door

Poetry, Captivating, Mischief, Wicked, Stained, Illusions, Deceptions, Mirages, Mystical, Lotion, Cresendo, Sexual, Glint, Illcit, Illustrious, Deceit, Deficit, Otherworldly, Blood, Silk, Venom, Flash, Journey, Baby Doll, Music Box, Unicorn, Ingenue, Bleach, Sunstroke, Caress, Air, Kissed, Dark, Rosebud, Promise, Glimmer, Patent, Ash, Debutant, Ostrich, Quicksilver, Petal, Collapse, Cold, Moonlight, Lover, Turmoil, Romanticism, Ballet, Ambrosia, Fin De Siecle, Winter, Legend, Carving, Glide, Bygone, Century, Starfires, Flame, Rosary, Tattoo, Astronomy, Once, Lilting, Still, Cape, Coupe D'etat, Alchemy, Faded, Fly, Mortality, Liquid, Sunshine, Dance, Birkin, View, Snow, Strange, Kitten, Bouffant, Magic Marker, Flight, Silence, Bohemia, Doorway, Nom De Plume, Madness, Memory, Ribbon, Butterfly, Fluidity, Picturesque, Quiver, Perfumery, Avalon, Travelogue, Venue, Truth, Whimsy, En Vin Veritas, Echo, Pinnacle, Serenity, Serendipity, Betrothal, Frozen, Lock, Lush, Ceremony, Minuet, Waltz, Paint, Pain, Verity, Blending, Death, Documentary, Devoted, Secret, Spinning, Shell, Satchel, Wanderlust, Mace, Lost, Scribbling, Renaissance, Velvet, Midnight, Opaque, Onyx, Nylons, Reflex, Sickly, Sweet, Vampirism, Transformation, Impale, Sustain, Marble, Raven, Ravish, Foe, Cul-de-sac, Glamourous, Airplane, Whet, Lips, Cure, Sight, Temptation, Famished, Ravenous, Buckle, Tender, Opera House, Lullaby, Underside, Breathtaking, Cliffside, Danger, Thirst, Wheat, Libretto, Backstage, Paranoia, Devour, Teeth, Love, Saga, Synopsis, Hereafter, String, Ageless, Eternal, Youth, Immortality, Windblown, Grand Piano, Culture, Decollete, Paperwhite, Roman Candles, Mill, Floss, Mad, Teacup, Oppulence, Explosion, Reaction, Orange Crush, Riveting, Moon, Dance, Golden, Chaos, Climax, Dawn, Tension, Garnet, Lust, Luscious, Baguette, Affair, Touch, Wild, Autumn, Silver, Slumber, Personal, Raw, Paradise, Vulture, Garter, Kneesocks, Wilderness, Lock, Heart, Gentle, Eternal, Ethereal, Celestial, Stille, Crystalline, Marseilles, Duet, Free, Epic, Wind, Whisper, Willow, Musical, Defunct, Deja Vu, Jewel, Tower, Imitation, Stronghold, Demon, Picket, Chew, Fluff, Strong, Arms,Home, Darkness, Risk, Cliff Diving, Sepia, Delusional, Engagement, Prey, Pawn, Palm Frond, Listen, Maestro, Masterpiece, Locket, Elyria, Fairborn, Starry Night, Run, Purity, Cry, Bitter, Tears, Fate, Eyeliner, Sweet, Enchantment, Courage, Regal, Harp, Contraire, Patterns, Familiarity, Heartbeat, Breathe, Brushed, Candy, Blush, Deficient, Victoriana, Nightgown, Chess, Spoils, Haze, Gauze, Gossamer, Music, Fiery, Butterfly, Playground, Innocence, Doe Eyes, Kingdom, Ocean, Seedy, Haughty, Fallen Aristocrat, Breeze, Bandit, Pearl, Diamond Guitar, Rise, Edgy, Chronicle, Pale, Imitation, Fairtale, Rider, Babble, Inert, Plaster, Light Bulb, White Cotton, Cartoon, Purgatory, Avant-garde, Tire Swing, Straw, Majesty, Wait, Lux, Yellowed, Exorcism, Iconoclast, Harpsichord, Gold, Crown, Soda-Pop, Letters, Barrier, Cookie Dough, Rooted, Ancestry, Opal, Amethyst, Mania, Thunder, Headphone, Plum, Echo, Album, Record, Why, Drug, Skull, Bullet, Shiver, Hedonistic, Heathen, Snow White, Beauty, Blossom, Excess, Wonderment, Cell, Constrict, Recruit, Tuberose, Interrogate, Abstract, Impressionism, Papier Mache, Courtesy, Hypnotic, Miscopic, Misantropic, Chemical, Wax Sealed, Bound, Ride, Present, Gripping, Icy, Lacy, Kidskin Gloves, Frosting, Melody, Lace, Temporary, Flimsy, Shroud, Feminism, Underpinnings, Decoder Ring, Hatbox, Lightening, Paper Doll, Mannequin, Pursue, Cityscape, Song, Vinyl, Nunnery, Pretty, Fanatical, Sugar, Prognosis, Sequined, Beret, Bell, Radiate, Gemstone, Bird, Liberate, Lily-Of -The -Valley, Art House Film, Emerging, Forefront, Cusp, Liberine, Victrola, Lampshade, Existential, Skullduggery, Pursuit, Tuxedo, Creamery, Plush, Plummage, Sugar Rush, Tree, Film Strip, Ode, Genetics, Cupid Knife, Honey, Nomadic, Pirate, Rainbow, Catalyst, Dizzying, Eclipse, Calvary, Intellectual, Karma, Cerise, Photo Essay, Maven, Oxygen, Canaries, Shadow, Boxer, Belle Epoque, Peripheral, Voice, Hunting, Crave, Rent Party, Promise, Plunder, Lass, Camera, Sushi, Castaway, Downright, Fleeting, Curtesy, Pitard, Hubris, Debate, Waist, Lies, Cutout, Clipping, Daisy Chain, Forgotten, Bottle, Eclectic, Wink, Original, Clouded, Sky Writer, Infectious, Acid, Tongue, Diseased, History, Ancients, Aristocratic, Diving, Symphony, Soft-Focus, Caramel, Eccentric, Sympathy, Tender, Free-Fall, Abyss, Brocade, Roller Skates, Finery, Cassius, Pleasure, Assassin, Freedom, Masquerade, Art, Antiquity, Felony, Harlequin, Laughter, Legal, Submission, Baroque, Wept, Fiance, Revolution, Camera, Ticklish, Feather, Wonderland, Chortle, Mimsy,Viral, Statue, Looking Glass, Vibrations, Provocative, Vaccine, Animal, Magnet, Voyage, Voyeur, Martini, Covet, Society, Starlight, Come, Hither, Garret, Attic, Midnight, Catharsis, Tingle, Childhood, Numbness, Spirit, Coffret, Philosophy, Cemetary, Daydream, Desire, Suspense, Mystery, Atmosphere, Dandelions, Scarlet, Yellowed, Flirt, Fan Girl, Rebellion, Hawk, Bauble, Bangle, Skin, Breakfast, Phantom, Parties, Rival, Cinema, Marquee, Glass, Shield, Ribbon, Suicide, Parisian, Delicate, Dauphine, Sensual, Crimson, Cautionary, Candid, Riddled, Timeless, Loveless, Synonymous, Addict, Feather, Fable, Trial By Fire, Convertible, Backroads, Babylon, Strike, Stream, Strewn, Tiara, Love Drug, Ecstasy, Euphoria, Muse, Cri Du Chat, Caged Bird, Pleasure, Delicacy, Socialite, Angel, Power Play, Surge, Fireworks, Reaction, Electricity, Electrocute, Potion, Cauldron, Crescendo, Climax, Meaning, Confessional, Whimsy, Lark, Lips, Fragile, Scandal, Wings, Sugar, Blending, Bridegroom, Grisette, Watercolour, Guilt, Tradgedy, Vintage, Diamond Necklace Affair, Taste, Silhouette,Chandelier, Mosaic, Faze, Lolita, Coquette, Admirer, Chorus, Adonis, Heath, Palate, Chocolate, Bon Vivant, Underground, Champagne, Flute, Symphony, Pirate, Bittersweet, Leather, Stage, Decadent, Heat, Flower, Sprinkle, Elm, Sparkler, Breath, Endearing, Whimsical, Captivating, Twinkle, Derelict, Ghost, Impermance, Asphixiate, Cityscape, Dardanelles, Passion, Bewildered, Foxglove, Powder Puff, Night, Icing, Floating, Lipstick, Light, Swan, Heroine, Metallic, New Wave, Mixtape, Fielding, Stilettos, Globe, Shot, Opera Glasses, Revolutionaires, Banner, Phantasmagorical, Mountain, Oceania, Bouquet, Antique, Pride, Irk, Roller Coaster, Invitation, Carnival, Candy Cane, Bloodlust, Corduroy, Satin, Flesh, Tea Party, Charm, Cache, Powder Keg, Dust, Flour, Skin, Collegiate, Laughter, Cobwebs, Flutter, Woven, Nightingale, Tapestry, Strangle, Pearls, Dilitant, Wayward, Ticket, Box Office, Juice Box, Hopscotch, Skip, Imagine, Candy Coloured, Bright, Perfume, Intensity, Cherries, Florescent, Unique, Defy, Unbound, Lasting, Fantasy, Sketch, Beauty, Obsession, Inharmonic, Infamy, Naivete, Rhyme, Rhythm, Spasm, Bomber, Soprano, Fulfillment, Fingers, Sin, Awakening, Spring, Mandrake, Ache, Static, Prosperity, Hunger, Crime, Rogue, Tainted, Torn, Ending, Torn, Telephone, Dreamer, Arrested, Flare, Monumental, Plush, Moment, Harvest, Vast, Trickery, Bow Tie, Dice, Vienna, Sunset, Visage, Skies, Stretch, Ghost Writer, Footprints, Phantasm, Cardic, Tonight, Darling, Consumption, Echo, Feeling, Schism, Xylophone, Delight, Rocket, Beautiful, Scullery, Scream, Waxing Poetic, Billowing, Simplicity, Elegnant, Craziness, Sophisticate, Caress, Rapberry, Lyrical, Idyllic, Amour, Armor, Pedastal, Pillor, Gypsy, Wounded, Battle Scars, Fatality, Citrus, Porcelain, Ashes, Kiss, Spiral, Staircase, Slipper, Fading, Soapdish, Mourn, Yearn, Graveyard, Sky, Demure, Risky, Portrait, Lady, Sleep, Twilight, Moan, Vessel, Vase, Vein, Exit Music, Mirror, Weekend, Knight, Poetical, Luck, Struck, Exotic, Trouble, Treble Clef, Cage, Deco, Filgree, Braid, Face, Manifesto, Movement, Bliss, Hooks, Heir, French, Dressing, Iron, Paradise, Punch, Pleasing, Typewriter, Sneaker, Kitsch, Detour, Advisory, Literary Circle, Happiness, Ending, Victory Garden, Stroke, Starlet, Mine, Paper Bag, Teenage, Homecoming, Violet, Violin, Living, Scattered, Couture, Sugar Coma, Exclamation Mark, Beat, Heartthrob, Haute, Churning, Pills, Airy, Hidden, Shame Spiral, Sunshine, Apology, Invigorating, Sidewalk, Wash, Apperance, Weakness, Entrance, Catcher, Fight, Bite, Choke, Local, Pieces, Alone, Roaming, Satin, Newness, Belonging, Beloved, Forgotten, Chocolatier, Atelier, Ornate, Knife, Lattice, Curtain, Draped, Bondage, Encounter, Bandaged, Storied, Recording, Escapist, Crime, Pitch, Atone, Circumvent, Acidic, Burn, Prey, Defiant, Gaze, Juxtaposition, Streets, Quaint, Quest, Cocktail, Proof, Adventure, Magical, Kick, Happening, Stadium, Dream, Strawberry, Flaxen, Fading, Signature, Hankerchief, Spacier, Sailing, Crowded, Drink Cart, Cruise, Fury, Fame, Antagonist, Anthesis, Spastic, Opening, Love Notes, Gossip, Discarded, Ribboned, Bedazzled, Dove, Emerald, Pastel, Cake, Sumptuous, Cherry Coke, Melodic, Dreamland, Rewind, Petit Fours, Creme, Club, Kilt, Photography, Journalist, Drown, Rabbit Hole, Voice, Trapdoor, Temperment, Enduring, Decorum, Curdle, Chaise, Cosmetic, Palpable, Optimism, Disguise, Limpid, Comely, Tempest, Surreal, Stark, Downy, Gloss, Sour, Eyelid, Tired, Waitress, Maddening, Clover, Streetlight Fancy, Serpantine, Subway, Fishnets, Clone, Curiosity, Claws, Flight, Hot Pink Cellophane Balloons, Stance, Poise, Pendant, Nature, Loft, Mint, Quill, Quell, Tuberose, Popcorn, Baby Powder, Heaven, Embroidery, Emotions, Gaffe, Subtle, Gargoyle, Sun Shower, Cobalt, Coal, Parasol, Implode, Eyeshadow, Smeared, Surface, Morning, Winery, Daze, Sincere, Danger, Pulsing, Exile, Verse, Knowledge, Duplicate, Chalk, Tomorrow, Single, Regaling, Laisse Faire, Scented, Skyline, Explosion, Raw, Whiplash, Discotheque, Balcony, Intuitive, Derivative, Rotary Dial, Phone, Girl, Horizon, Curl, Destiny, Crash, Eyelash, Imprint, Antidote, Basket Case, Darkness, Placid, Taxi, Glitter, Hope, Foal, Toy, Pocket, Trivial, Pursuit, Frosted Window, Wit, Bubble Gum, Wink, Closet, Cloister, Liason, Kneel, Scruntiny, Hypothesis, Bittersweet, Brass, Camisole, Proverb, Eggshell, Pilgrim, Bonnet, Itch, Skim, Blushing, Shipwreak, Cough, Candlelight, Accent, Savy, Combat, Finery, Final, Riot, Popsicle, Coinage, Pose, Kinship, Coffers, Kidskin, Vineyard, Decay, Touch, Win, Sundae, Lottery, Gourmet, Curtly, Mask, Mermaid, Subtle, Gentlemen, Handwriten, Head Rush, Sound, Premonition, Calligraphy, Piano, Bijoux, Bus Stop, Ceiling, Exploit, Urban, Indie, Stationary, Swimming, Thumb, Speed, Sleek, Delicate, Balance, Scales, Weary, Chirping, Candor, Gushing, Scissors, Killer, Carousel, Spandex Pony, Underfoot, Angels, Prevail, Reunited, Caramel, Throne, Glitz, Perfection, Snowfall, Dignity, Cupid, Arrow, Corpse, Pop Rocks, Monologue, Apocalypse, Joy, Jubilate, Jaded, Vital, Crystal, Ice Palace, Effigy, Zenith, Zeitgeist, Tentacles, Bonnet, Freedom, Rooftop Lover, Orchestra, Pianissimo, Rose, Song, Takeoff, Doll Revolution, Collapse, Nevermind, Mercy, Gothic, Swingset, Backing, Misery, Abyss, Forefront, Usher, Era, Buried, Intrusive, Silence, Infatuation, Woe, Frivolity, Cotton Candy, Confection, Grimace, Fragments, Freakshow, Corruption, Bride, Mimic, Birthday, Veil, Wish, Laundry, Sketch, Fortune Cookie, Above, Graduation, Lurking, Surprise, Forget, Tingling, Voicebox, Scent, Pinprick, Captour, Caped, Unorthodox, Light, Sunbream, Pulsing, Murder, Axis, Tear Ridden, Fragile, Infinite, Skipping, Spell, Smile, Harbour, Wither, Transluccent, Tresses, Steamer Trunk, Soundless, Inflection, Rhythmic, Candied, Attraction, Vision, Wreak, Meadow, Flirtation, Vicious, Steal, Drifting, Slash, Stylistic, Tracing, Clock, Imitation, Flicker, Garland, Victorious, Haunting, Wintersong, Fidget, Charity, Wavering, Stealth, Pier, Save, Surface, Faint, Matchpoint, Enharmonic, Seaside, Bohemian, Bleak, Sword, Vendetta, Vivacious, Asylum, Dreary, Heart Shaped, Vaniety, Wardrobe, Longing, Insaniety, Sing-Along, Creased, Metronome, Vain, Promises, Capsule, Proximity, Predator, Ice Cream, Stitch, Chaos, Richly, Yours, Sincere, Gown, Mate, Decipher, Cloaked, Threads, Petty, Listen, Impulse, Listless, Serial, Sophistry, Consume, Humanity, Hidden, Tedium, Manhattan, Drift, Acoustic, Intellect, Sophmore, Tragical, Paper Boats, Foundling, Accelerate, Pompous, Impetous, Wafting, Pastimes, Complexities, Armoire, Unjust, Compassion, Devil, Compulsion, Trickled, Limited, Episode, Warning, Blackout, Pulp, Anxiety, Splintered, Flutter, Atrocity, Promenade, Spill, Sensation, Mystery, Intrusion, Fervor, Timing, Rabid, Lost, Libertine, Coil, Augustian, Wail, Recluse, Dispel, Whimsy, Nightmare, Party, Friday, Morning, Hero, Tender, Embrace, Intent, Potent, Organza, Dillettante, Romance, Teacup, Fragment, Valet, Cake Walk, Moondance, Column, Betrayal, Elite, Ostracized, Venetian, Gazette, Heaven, Vanilla, Eclipse, Aromatic, Carriage House, Broadway, Prologue, Prodigy, Current, Ornate, Exertion, Elaborate, Propose, Refined, Downcast, Gutter, Gardenia, Telltale, Wed, Coif, Linger, Pallbearer, Perch, Afterlife, Pry, Fathom, Loveliness, Crypt, Factory, Tread, Smoldering, Regime, Hunting, Beau, Ballet Slippers, Slender, Postscript, Poppies, Estate Sale, Whitewash, Miniature, Recreational, Crumble, Cappuccino, Supreme, Smother, Wring, Throat, Lollipop, Architect, Feat, Studio Apartment, Night Cap, Soaked, Ward, Manicure, Obscurity, Wizened, Doppelganger, Strawberry Milkshake, Cloud, Ascetic, Stoic, Transparent, Salvation, Fresco, Frenetic, Smoke Rings, Bodice, Studded, Canopy, Fan, Fawn, Conspiracy, Soul, Pottery, Energy, Kiln, Sculpture, Clay, Waltz, Alabaster, Putty, Salon, Live, Iris, Clasp, Pewter, Pearl, Candlestick, Lineage, Frog Prince, Damask, Loss, Jodhpurs, Imposing, Wrought, Priceless, Chipped, Railroad, Hostel, Drawing, Footwork, Rook, Castle, Cupcake, Anxiety, Clockwork, Death Bed, Tryst, Transatlantic, Acrid, Apology, Pep, Ballroom, Menace, Messenger, Exhurberance, Reprise, Respite, Fringe, Marshmallow, Decolletage, Partisian, December, College, Remenant, Shadow, Corset, Palazzo, Theatre, Graymalkin, Heirloom, Hideout, Cave, Unabashed, Cassette, Vivid, Locale, Chiffon, Meringue, Moderate, Showdown, Giddy, Childhood, Curse, Gramercy, Trench, Trilby, Carrier, Chest, Fringe, Momentum, Kindred, Gravity,Necklace, Turret, Winged, Artist, Straving, Pomade, Suite, Ace, Transcendent, Barefoot, Fete, Foreign, Perverse, Mysticism, Virtue, Guise, Mood, Virtuoso, Treat, Threat, Truth, Decanter, Interlude, Clad, Sniff, Honour, Cluster, Exposure, Debauchery, Identity, Island, Prominance, Providence, Rebel, Yell, Maiden, Crawl, Opera, Puppet, Vulnerability, Mezzanine, Spur, Forest, Cliche, Vine, Delirious, Hum, Thorn, Tempo, Motorcycle, Sapphire, Lagoon, Summering, Sephric, Crusade, Beast, Glance, Blanketed, Swirling, Fluster, Gasp, Everything, Cleanisng, Unicorn, Laughing, Dessert, Fantasy, Frosting, Halt, Saunter, Soon, Pain, Quail, Dearest, Goodbyes, Finally, Falling, Alive, Treat, Only, Epiphany, Murmur, Sweatheart, Eternia, Dreamer


I like too many words.
Someone PLEASE save me from myself!
Word Addicts Anonymous (WAA).
Zydrate's the only cure.

If I was the only one left, I'd stop in my tracks. I wouldn't be able to laugh or cry, just sit, in the middle of the sidewalk, pick up a pen and write my own Book of Dreams, for City Lights.

The Writing On The Wall:
Here's the first poem I ever wrote, for your laughing pleasure:

Advice For When Your Older

You Believe that the fate of the world is
Love, laugh, amusement
You live on top, past all the real, painful , sad stuff
Dreams pass, do you hear the silence?
Stop fighting it!
Share major wealth
Love something sweet
Got pain?
Want less?
Spill a personal fear
List a dream
It's a must-have
Reach your mark and cry:
"Look I am special!"

(really much ado about nothing, at all, but whatever.)

I'm older now, and I feel like my ten year old self wrote the poem for me. Maybe I should just toughen up my all-too sensitive skin, wear steel toed boots and not let the world get to me. Take my own advice, a spill my 200 odd secrets, get my head out of the clouds where only the angels fuck, and on the ground, where I actually exist (in theory...).
But who really wants to sit and listen to the ramblings of a mad (crazy) girl?

Now I still here, still wearing my lucky necklace from grade six (from when I made my first cast list), poised to graduate from high school, confirmed to be moving at least four hours away from everything I've ever know in a few short months.
Now I'm thinking about this,
the future so empty and ready for me to shape it, and I can't stop mulling over the past.
But the past, present and future, just blend together for me, before my dancing eyes, until I can't tell what has already happened and what I've only dreamt of.
It's very Little Edie.

But there's nothing you can do with regret. You can't ever go back, can't ever fix things, as hard as you try, it's only grasping at pastel coloured straws, until they slip from my bitten fingers. No matter how much the past haunts you, there's no flux capacitor for me, and I'll never rule the morlocks.

But I digress, I'm only seventeen. I don't know why I'm so flightly and carefree one minute, and analying my life, like it's full of tradgedy or torment.
I've never really been hurt
I've never really loved
I've never really been rejected
I've never really let myself free, from the limits I impose on myself, my worst jailer.

So really, the only question is "Why So Serious?"
(really you should get a glascow smile if you don't get this one, at least!)

I've come so far, but I've never gotten home. I'm one of those girls who would take the wheel and drive out into the night, hypnotized by the full moon, driving until I fit a home.
I'm Holly Golightly tonight. Not the one, the party girl Audrey Hepburn played in the movie, but the erratic, dreamer callgirl from Truman Capote's original novella, still an undomesticated wild thing who doesn't understand how to live.

Holly Golightly: You know those days when you get the mean reds?
Fred: The mean reds, you mean like the blues?
Holly Golightly: No. The blues are because you're getting fat and maybe it's been raining too long, you're just sad that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?
Fred: Sure.
Holly Golightly: Well, when I get it the only thing that does any good is to jump in a cab and go to Tiffany's. Calms me down right away. The quietness and the proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you there. If I could find a real-life place that'd make me feel like Tiffany's, then -then I'd buy some furniture and give the cat a name!

-Breakfast At Tiffany's

I feel like this when it's snowing, but you can't just like in the snow and not expect to freeze. I might really be the no name slob, the cat who needs to be taken in, taken care of, and hibernate by the fire.

Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke

Dream Catcher,

Dreaming of You

Dreaming of Me....

Doomed

Sugar Rush...Banging My Head Againist The Wall

"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.

1
2
3
4
5!!

Blast-Off,


Your Catch of The Day

Behind Blue Eyes

I am dreading going back to school tommorrow. My last semester ever, and I'm scared of English class. I heard I lot of people failed, or got really low marks, and I always end up too poetic for standard essays. I am also worried about Writer's Craft, what if my teacher thinks I'm a bad writer? I've always defined myself as a writer, and that could just put me over the jagged edge of this glass cliff.

At least its almost over. At least i'm nearly free. I can't wait for spring, so I can go still in the grass under an old tree, and forget my cares, do nothing but make daisy chains, and walk about barefoot.
I need peace sign earings!

Six Songs That Don't Help, But Just Tolerate The Stress:
1 The Songs That We Sing - Charlotte Gainsbourg
2 Bleed Like Me- Garbage
3 Godless- The Dandy Warhols
4 Carpetbaggers- Jenny Lewis
5Creepy Crawl- Be Your Own Pet
6 Lullaby-The Cure

So I've been Thinking- This is dangerous. You should really just run.

I am a mutant. We all are, really but sometimes I think I'm worse.
do blue eyes make you sadder? I've heard that.
Make you melancholic? Feel more of the world? I've heard it all.
But does it just give me an excuse for the way I feel? I'm just a normal girl who thinks too much. Who lets herself, loses herself to daydreams when i should be living. Will I regret this when I'm old? Will I feel like I've never actually lived my life?
I'm afraid.
I'm very afraid- It's like something about 'that Twilighty-show about that zone'

How far can casualty slip into our lives?
Can it slip beneath our sheets? Under our sinful skin?Inhabit Us?
Can we picnic under the dark stars and talk of chaos and corruption?
Can we act it out? Bring the glorified flesh to life?
Stand together at the top of the world, hold hands as it explodes, like in Fight Club?
Can we watch the world burn around us? Dreamland burns blue to those who see the world through heavy eyelashes and blue, blue eyes.

Why is that I can think so much? Who will I be when I reach the finish line, alone with no one to lean on?To catch me when I fall? When I come down from the treehouse? Swinging on a tarzan rope.
Why do I flit so easily from full and complete happiness, to the depths of sadness and crying on the basement floor? I am a million different people from one day to the next.

And most importantly, why can't I think for myself? Why do I ask so many questions? Who am I expecting will answer them for me?Will You?

Once I watched an episode of The Twilight Zone, where a woman who was ugly all her life, and just had surgery to make herself look normal, and pretty like everyone else. Then we see the bandages being removed, and hear that the surgery didn't work, and that she is still ugly. Then we see that the woman is actually beautiful, and everyon else has horribly deformed pig-faces. That's the best episode. it reassure me that maybe I'm not as strange, not as ugly or messed up as I think I am.

It's all about perception.

And what if everyone else is weird and insane, and I'm just the way I'm supposed to be? What if we were all meant to be obsessed, laughing children who cry and laugh for no reason, and cannot concentrate on anything, but my own writings. What if i'm the way we're supposed to be.

There is nothing that no one likes, no matter what it is, there is someone out there who considers it their favourite thing. We consider a movie a failure if only a few million people saw it. But there is nothing out there that doesn't effect someone. There is no life that doesn't touch another, every in dying, alone they warn others to live . To let the cares slip away. Let the handfuls of sand grasped in vain, fall back into the sea. And Liquefy, get lost like us.

What did we ever do without the internet?
When if you wanted to hear a song, see a movie, or know a random fact or date, you would actually have to get up and do stuff, actually have to read the paper, or crack a book. Now we just type a few words on google, and the world's at our fingertips. What has happened to us that people would rather type out responses to each other, and live our whole lives on Facebook or Msn, and be afraid to meet face to face.
I let my words, so distant from life speak for me. I hide behind my keyboard, stab forward with my purple pen, and I'm considered normal!

Every where I turn, I hear that the world is ending. theres corruption everywhere, and all we can think of resounds in conspiracy and doomsday theories.
And I wonder for all our ideas about the world ending, will we destory ourselves before it has a chance.

Save The Humans! The Real Endangered Species. Hunter S. Thompson was right. We are raising a generation of dancers, who are afraid of differing from the norms or following their own beat. We need to get out of line, find our own rhythm, and dance to our own drummer.
We're like the stupid girl in horror movies, who hides in the closet, or runs into the haunted house to get away from the Psycho-Killer (stalking Mainstreet USA).
We're just to stupid for our own good
jUst too stupid to live.
And can I by the Final Girl? Do I want to be, what with the state we're in?

And the Music crescendos, and the masks slip away and we are alone in the blood, on the stage in the spotlight. Alone with ourselves, with our mistakes, No where to run, to hide to leave ourselves.

But This is Opera!
"In opera, you die in act one,and then come back a ghost in act three!"- Blind Mag
It makes no sense. Just like life.

And Here We Have Another Pointless Rant That No One Will Ever Read

So, Long ago i set out down the yellow brick road...

When I was a kid, i would pretend I was Dorothy Gale. I'd put on my mother's red heels, and wander around singing over the rainbow at the top of my childish lungs (god, i was so much louder then). I wouldn't even allow anyone else to sing it, it was "My Song!", no any one else's. I don't have much else but songs,and pretty melodies rushing through my sugar rushing head. And now, I spend my spare time writting this blog, this blog that no one reads, that no one may ever read. And I'm okay with that,this is written for me,not pandering for anyone else.For anyone decides to read it, go ahead,I hope it helps you.

.....And i brought me to this strange pulsing techincolour world.

This week is going to be my hell. I have to write my philosophy essay (the one I've been putting off for months), polish up my psychology project on eating disorders (seriously too close to the topic. I keep thinking with my own experiences!), finish up my Anthro/Psych/Socio seminar (was so tempted to use Everybody's a Little Bit Racist) and study and write my Philosophy exam (but i pretty much lost all my notes)!

I may just crash and burn, and keep crashing, and keep burning until there's nothing left, but me standing in the rain screaming for "them" to turn of the cameras.

And for the record here's the official list of things to get me through this hell week:

• REPO: The Genetic Opera, Sin City, and the Dark Knight (yes, again....)


• Strawberries and Cream, and Ritz Crackers


• Lullaby- The Cure, Colors-Crossfade, Liquefy-The Servant


• Singing along to everything


• My Office and Arrested Development DVDs

Me and my stupid procrastination. My stupid screenwriting, my all consumbing lust.

Fuck! I just can't get anything done! and I keep thinking dangerous thoughts, like I only need a seventy to keep my Carleton acceptance. What if i just didn't do anything?

Its a dangerous path. And I need to get off it.

I'm such a fucking mess. I really need someone to lend me a hand, take me out this shame spiral. This burn-out course. But there's no one, the guys don't fall for the quiet ones. They don't try to get to know, even though i would probably be the absolute best girlfriend ever. Really.

And I blew my chances (damn why must everything be sexual?) when I had them. I at wasn't ready then, I didn't feel the emptyness I do now. It was just flattering, my only examples so far of unrequited love that was directed at me, not from me.Probably the only one I may ever experience (that i know of). I'm getting to the point where I'm thinking of making some big confessions to everyone I've kept in the dark on graduation day. Of running up to a guy kissing him and walking out into the night (well.. it would be day) never to be seen again. That would be culmination, catharthis if anything else.

Did you know you can actually die from laughing? What a way to go! I can only hope.

But sometimes things just get so back that you just gotta step back, look back at the world and laugh. And go out on a laugh, the pefect punchline.

I've had those moments when I laugh uncontrollably for ten minutes (last time my friend took extremely unflatttering pictures of the entire thing)and it is like choking right in the pocket of my throat, but it's like freedom-more than anything else-letting everything else go, fall away. Letting go of who I pretend to be, and giving a glimpse of who I

It's scary, dangerous, and putting myself out there at my most vunerable.

But it may just be the best feeling yet. The perfect way to get though this pointless stuff.

When this week is over, I'll find some reward for my paltry suffering . I don't know what yet. But it will be spectacular... spectacular

I may just be the Cowardly Lion. I've got a heart, sometimes I think it may be too much heart that leads me to desperation and pathetically romantic fantasies, and too much brains and curiousity about everything (I'd open Pandora's box or watch The Ring tape) for my own good. But I can't even carry on a conversation, or talk to the guys I like. I'm seriously lacking in courage.

I lie on the floor, peel myself up and listen to music thinking about destiny.And I lace up my life, tie myself in and try to overcome my burgeoning case of Senioritis. And try to wake up.

It was all a dream... and you were there, and you were there.

And you? You were the greatest one of all.

Is there no place like home? Will I miss it when I move out? Or less likely- will I end up missing Milton, the town I've been trashing since I got here? DOUBTFUL!

-Catch.

And Throw It Back

Singer Wishes For Band...

I actually love coming up with fictional band names. Theres just something fun about it, at taking random words and moving them out of context and into obscurity. Yay! Just not The 1ders or Long John and Silver Beetles. Say no.

So, here's a random list of possible Band names:

Masquerade
Costume Cowboy
Bat Candy
Party Phantom Princess
Party Phantom Parties
Shadow Sheets
Bible Kiss Bible
Jane8George
Artemis Friday
112233
J’s Girl
His Girl For Friday
Nobody Loves You
Nobody Loves Love
Champagne Flute Symphony

Fangirl

Clowns in Love

The Lolita Experiment

Paul Revere and British Boy

So Cliche

Juxtapose Just Suppose

Doll Revolution

Choke

Shoegazing

The Bartenders

Looking Glass

Bobble Head

Gingerbread

Baby Ingenue Voyeur

Girl On a Motorcycle

Hautboy Chorus

Start Falling in Love With Me

Silver Slight

Bobby Soxers

The Bodice Rippers

Cinderbox Roxes

All You Pretty Things

Playgirl

The Water Drinkers

The Joe Greens

The Bonnet Duets

Like Forever

Shakespeare's Dating Service

Murphy's Law

Tea At Trianon

Creamery

Antoinette <3>

Perfumery

Caligula's Horse For Consul

Private Society

The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty

Let Them Eat Cake

Straving Artists

Lipstick

Tolstoy Book Club

Ma-Sock-Kiss-T-Me

What?

Sleeping Dogs Lie

Frog Prince

Hard Candy

Sugar Rush

Try Some, Buy Some

Buy 2 Get 1 Free

Opera Box

Palazzo Pushers

Bunch of Lousy Drunks

The Black Sheep

Enchantment

Daisy Chains

Sopranos Sleep With Tenors

Follow Them To The Edge of The Desert (FTTEOTD)

At some point I want to be in a band. Sing on stage without being scared or without my kneeshaking me to the ground. Singing is the one thing i know for sure that I can do, always sure to perk up my mood, and let me soar. But I need confidence and stage presence, after all I'm no Karen O or Jim Morrison at the mic.

Also, while i never, ever want to be top-tier famous, i want to be known in my area/ community. And have an awesome band formation story to go down in music history with. Like going to an audition without knowing how to play an instrument, or finding a bandmate in your loud upstairs neighbour. Awesomeness= The The and The Band were actual bands. I couldn't make that up!

Or, ya know something Crazier.

Really, craziness is limitles.

Thank God, or Whatever there is, that its nearly Friday!

I'll slack out of the stresses and horror of this pathetic thing we call a school week (Its a sick joke, i say. Sadists!), with a friend, a pizza, chocolate (another form of magic), pounds of make-up and hair stuff, a camera and no shame what so ever.

I think this calls for a photoshoot!

Lights, Camera, Action!,

Catchington-Girl

Bah-Bye Now.

The Dark Side Of The Room, Where The Cha-Chos Lives

Buorngioro Drugstore Cowboys!

Hey Roger!!...."Suicidal girl who OD'ed, he says he loved her, what he loves is to bleed." - Come To The Meeting (RENT NYTW)

No one ever told me growing up would hurt so much! Yeah that run in her stockings, she`s trying to hide... it didn`t happen this morning.


I woke up, morning
I woke up dead today
I aged a thousand years or more
I flinch when you are nice
You kill me with a single word
When angels fuck and devils kiss,
I'm sure
I'll bask in your forever
You just waste my time
I want to drag you down,
down with me
I wanted to help,
to help destroy the world
I wanted to be that,
to be that special girl!

- Angels Fuck, Devils Kiss (Jack Off Jill)

This song captures it. The saddness, waking up alone, so dreadfully alone. Waking up, with dreams i can't remember, Dreams that echo, haunt in my mind. Dreams that really don't think are mine. I have half a mind to wonder if I have anothert personality running around all Tyler Durdan. Even better, is the fact that at the song ends with an unrehearsed nervous breakdown . What better encompases this feeling?

Am I A Rock and Roll Suicide? Will I Join the casulaties? Maybe.
If i don't get out soon, that is. I'm Lux Lisbon, suffocating on rules, confines, and choking on suburbia. I'm a bird in a gilded cage, complaining about my luxeries , and my lack of real worries.
I'm creating problems to sabotage myself.
But I worry, in spite of it all, in spite of fierce independance, Can i take care of myself?


I have no common sense, don't sleep, and lose everything.
I'm reminded of a line of Little Edie's from Grey Gardens, "A Manager! That's what i need! An ordered life." This holds incredibly true for me. I can't order my own life. Fuck, I can't ever order my own Religion Binder, or keep my room clean. What will happen when I'm on my own?

I'm so young, but already so messed up. Sometimes I think need major help, an intervention of sorts. But These are the secrets of never shared. I don't think anyone notices though, don't think nayone really sees into me. Sure, i have friends, people who love me, who want to support me, but I can't share this with them. I pretend so much. i wonder if they'd recognize the real me if we met.

But I'm so lonely. Even when it's a hundred degrees, it's cold at night. and i wander downstairs and look out the picture windows as the cars rush buy, in winter I stand outside at midnight and do nothing but watch the snow fall. I just want someone to hold me and to tell me I am somebody, I mean something to them. Facebook has become a torture device, as each time i log in, I see another one of my friends is listed "as being in a relationship", and i wonder, why not me? What is so wrong? So repellant about me?

I've always been a good luck charm for others, I have a history of improving the lives i touch (awards, higher grades, scholarships, and jobs abound), but this doesn't extend to me. I've been the good girl, I've listened, I've followed the rules, I've patiently gone to school each morning even though i'm falling apart from the inside out and even though i'm dying a bit more each day. I 've settled. I've let others make my choices for me, I've written hundreds of school assignments with exactely what I knew the teachers wanted me to say. But in my daydreams I get up on my desk and scream, I change the world with my thoughts and i am satisfied. I've tried to be noticed, but now, although I've resigned myself to being invisible but i want to be seen!

I've adapted to my life, becoming an Introvert, and living most satisfyingly in my inner world. But once upon a time, I was a little girl who wasn't afraid of anything, I was dynamic, I'd sing in front of everyone, and I was an extrovert. But second grade girls can be mean if you have an imagnation. And ultimatedly, somewhere in the middle of my bullying victim ordeal, I let myself be silenced. I retreated, I decided that it was easier to be quiet to hide myself, to stop from getting hurt.

Now it's four years since i'm been really bullied, and I'm still hurt, I still think people are trying to trick me when they're reaching out and being nice. I rebounded into eating disorders and now I don't even know who i see in the mirror, and can't even take a compliment without getting defensive and I'm afraid of going back. Of having a two day freak-out after eating a single slice of pizza, or missed an exercise session. I can't talk, and I try to hide, but i've gone too far away. denied who I was supposed to be. I can't even speak up in class, even to agree when someone perfectly expouses my views!

But, really what else do you need besides a meaningfully marked-up copy of Moby Dick. Heather Duke freezing alone, a poor little Eskimo, in antartica (but at least away from here). And more eloquently, the creul way that "LIFE SUCKS". and then you die. But where do you go?
I can't force myself to believe in something I don't, something I don't want to think about.

But there just HAS to be a meaning to life! Otherwise, what are we doing here?
Is life just meant to have the most amount of fun, that we can?
I'm all for that, but if that's the case why do was waste our precious time with school to get a job, to support a family. If that's all there is, then I'd condone hedonism, give it all up and enjoy living very breathe. Why am I wasting my time in suburbia, complaining about being alone and not living.

I need to SHUT-UP, get out there and live. Play my game and win. Play by my own rules, no more being weakly submissive to what other people want. Do I waste too much time reading books or watching movies about people who have their own adventures?
I'm going nowhere fast, and i need to change course before i hit the wall. Before the envitable crash, since grade nine I've felt the darkness has been creeping in, and I've been riding for a fall.

When we read Cather In The Rye, I knew if i didn't stop, I might explode, a brillant eclipse of techicolour. At some point I'd stop moving, and "have to go take it easy for a while".

When I read Raise High The Roof Beams Carpenters and Seymour: an introduction, i was sure. Does thinking too much, analyzing life for pleasure, for beauty, for pain make you lose your mind?

I think it might.

If I lose everything else, though if I am never loved (because I don't think anyone really does love me), i will refuse to lose myself. Because I've found her, I've created her, and I'm proud of who she is. I'm not changing that for anyone. Go ahead try to twist my mind. Just try! i think at this point, i'd just laugh. Or I'd run home happy for a minute in the snow, get home a collapse in tears and screams, melting againist the closed door. I'm trapped in myself, and i'm terrified what may happen if i ever get out.

Yes, I know this is maudwin and melodramatic. But I needed to get it out, a box stuffed to brim with secrets, will always burst, like it or not. And I've always like to do things on my own terms.

FIAT LUX! (Let there be light.)
Please! I need a little light right now. I need to find my way, to get back on the path home. Wherever that may be, and be greeted at the door by someone who loves me. For who I am, laughs at my falls and issues, but is always there to help me back up to my feet.

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!”
- Jack Kerouac

I've been burned. And I don't think the scars ever really fade.

As Always,
Your Catcher.

And Now For Something Completely Different!! Poetry Interlude #1

And We're Back: with
100 Things We Might Have Said,

As i've previously lamented, I am a hard-core Dreamer. This means that my concentration level is about zero, as is my committment level. Patience? Nil. Same goes for Organization.
I'd probably be a hard-person to live with, but then i'd trip over the coffeetable, (must be a Monday) and spill the last of the Diet Coke (Delicious Chemical Elixir!!) all over the shag carpet and ruin my lovely Lipstick Red suede boots, and remind everyone what I'm actually good for:
A LAUGH.
Both at my accidental physical comedy, and my more purposeful (however less sucessful) attempts at being witty (but for a introvert, this is mainly confined to forrays into the written word, and with the small circle of people that have made it through my strict clearance.(I've been burnt before, ya know!)
-Oooh! Sparkly!
-MUST RESTRAIN SELF!!!
Okay...
So, I've always fancied myself a writter. This goes back to when I Was three and dictated lame, but now strangely endearing stories about princesses, Trolls, School, and Happy Meals, to my Dad, who would transrible them, and then let me decorate with my magical crayons.
(I miss the freedom of Crayons, a big box of waxy Crayolas with names that sounded like candies or lipgloss and that were so simple and satisiying to draw with. Thick Vivid lines of Magestic Red, Peacock Blue and Dandelion Yellow. Those were the daze!)
I still owe a great dept to my grade three teacher, who encouraged me to use writting as my voice, an outlet where both overactive imagination, and girl could become larger than life characters, and live out adventures, quests and dreams. Since Then I have always had a work in progress.
As I grew up, My writting became short stories. The two most famous round my house were one written in grade three and four, one called "London Lake" (titled thanks to my childhood, Brit-mania, and a second feature on Saturday Night at the Movies, where a bunch of old people go to a lake, which had a lot of loons and golden sunset), and the other called, "The Bear On Roller Skates", a story where toys come to life, (Cough Toy Story rip-off) narrorated by a barbie Doll. They won third and second place, respectively in school writting contests.
Now, i read them and think there're cute, but that's really about all their true merit.
In the Last Few years, I've turned to screenplays. There are two main reasons for this:
1. I do love movies, and would really want to see the ones i attempt to write
2. My ideas come so vividly that i see, specifics such as music and backrounds, and costumes that are needed to make things make sense.
But I don't finish them. It's Not Writer's Block. I've never actually had Writer's Block (well, only on school stuff, but that's more for boredom). No, It's because the ideas come so fast that I need to leave one alone for awhile, and start a new one before i forget. I've been know to write straight through the night, night being the absolute best time to write, as you are alone, and it feels as if the entire world may have disappeared except you, and you, Well-I feel on top of the world. My Favourite Script of mine is one called Caffeine, a bohemian roadtrip of a movie, Wherein four kids who were never friends, implusively set out on a roadtrip following their high school grad.They have all these adventures, and its all awesomely weird with random sights such as the world's largest balll of twine! But what i love is that it would be shot in segments, as if there is a fifth person in the car, taking and intersplicing moments, of everything, arguments, playfullnes, sleeping, boredom, etc. I actually wish someone would make this movie so i could see it. You have no idea how much!
But anyway, getting back on track, this post is about my trysts with (pathetic) poetry. Since grade ten, in between doodling and passing notes, I have been wasting my so-called "precicous" class time (HI! i could work so much better if we learned at school!), filling my notebook margins with scribbled free verse lines (rhyme is confining and ridgid, poetry is supposed to be freedom). It is my lonliess, my love, my depression, my euthoria, my every high and low, but it's always all me. Now I actually, have a book of 300, or so equally pathetic poems, that i call 100 Things We Might Have Said. I've been toying with the idea of sending it to a few publishers, to see what they think. As, i won't actually let my friends and family read it. EVER!
I once read about a writer who saved all his rejection letters and wallpapered his apartment with them, and then had something to laugh at when he won a Pulitzer. This would be seriously cool, and at seventeen it's as good a time as any to start my rejection collection. (Although Universities haven't been exactely helping me with this, Running count as of now: 2 acceptances, waiting on : 4, Rejections:0, but we'll see).

Here's a Poem, that i found scribbled on a rubic from my Philosophy class, I'm not completely sure what I wrote it about:
So you can judge for yourself:

Electric
The sky's electric, the sins overpowered
It charges, Surging with shooting current
Rushing through punctured veins
Lifting ghostly veils to internal worlds
Bringing life to the spiritually dead
The walking corpses like me
Jaded and exposed to life,
Yet never having really lived
The cloudless blue abyss
Glimmers taunting mortals with its
Secretive night, and hazy childhood daisy days
It's stuck the dreamer in the frying pan
and begun a slow simmer
If it tries to take away my wanderings
My stolen dreams, I will hold out
Battle to the end with my satin gloved fists
But that's life in the world of the living
Killing individuals for fresh new thinking
Biting, Scathing, whoring, Theiving
That's how we stand on this side of the abyss
How we live on this bright new day
How we've stolen the crown jewels
and jumped on waiting horses
stuffed our pockets with greed and ran far away
But when I rest my tired sugar-rushing head
My addled love addicted brain
So weak with the meek curse of human being
I fall comatose losing my mind,
Underneath the forbidden apple tree
The shattered sky, falls to earth laughing manically at me
It's a daylight massacre
Crushed by the breaking chains of my friendly fires
Gut wrenching, dying fraught with locust pain
But the sky doesn't forgive the dead for trying to live
To bring them down to earth
bitting into them like the devil's acid tongue
Breaking candied apple skin, crisp untouched flesh, bitten
Corrupted for evil's own earthly ends
And the electric current pulses and we dance through acid rain
The corroding sky, the power surge
The expectant pulse twins to my heart beat
We're in the desert alone
With the charging sky

Okay, so that was a small piece of my soul laid bare, so Please be kind. Or don't and i'll give you a special place on my wall.

Loadsalove,
-Catcher