The Last Piece Of Pineapple

More and more i am realizing how much i want someone to love me. In my world, in my once familiar life, my rooms, I am suddenly exposed alone and insecure. I dream of someone, one person in the world who i feel comfortable with sharing my every shameful secret and kinky desire, someone whose judgement i do not fear, but whose exceptance i willfully earn through odiendece. I yearn for someone who loes me for the profound essence that is me, that they listen in rapture to my stories, and allow me no shame or respite in secrets, that they want to see my baby pictures, loving even a little me, wishing to slip into to touch me in my life. I have only known one person outside of my immediate family who loves me, and remembers what I dream of, what i am most imtimately and remembers even my shallowest surface truths. The simple caring of insisting the last piece of pineapple in the orange chicken is mine, because I love pineapple.

Someone who can raise me in ways that have been neglected. While i am well versed, an old hat in matters of capable intelligence and historical and current events, i am but a stranger, a left behind child in essential other ways. I am still a child who plays with dolls, is enraptured by everything i see, laughs for no reason, has imaginary friends and has never learned that less is more. I have emerged from high school without the natural maturity of self understanding and acceptance, without my feet on the ground and my mind ensounced in reality and sense. My mind is unable to comprehend to reality, shunning painful facts and ignoring bitter truths even when confrontedhead-on by them, it only accepts what it is able to, a coping mechanism running on sunshine and self presevvation instincts too strong for my own good. Truly, I have been sheltered from the realities i have chosen to be, but no one has forced me back, to think of the practical descions and responsibilities of taking care of myself, keeping myself alive without interference or supervision. I need guidance in my every action, rules and lists, otherwise I will do nothing. Simply, I am unprepared, just not ready to live with out my reliant well-worn support system. I am at the point where there is precious little fundamental lessons my parents are capable of teaching me, past the point where their rules or customs will stick with me, where i am now, i am heavily intrenched in my beliefs what i know now may be all i am able to ever truly learn. I almost need a new parent than i need a lover, to take me in, teach me, and keep me in line, force me to do the things i really want. How in the world is it possible that i am becoming less mature, less secure as I grow up, as time passes, that I am steadily enytering my second phase of childhood as I should for all extensie purposes, be leaving it.
I am seventeen, a recent high school graduate who has done nothing yet, who has only herself to blame, and who is running short on time, on saniety, on strength to carry on in a sea of emptiness. In truth I am inexperienced, but I have allowed myself to continue on this path.
I watch my peers fall in the reciprocal love i am denied, make love and have meaningless sex, get drunk, do drugs, drive cars and crash and burn. Yet, i am nothing for doing nothing, i am not more valuable or lucky for not living

I live in a different world, I am a good girl, but I never decided to be.I was simply uninvited to the party. Its not that they hate me or dislike me in the least, its just that in my introversion in my twitching fear of unacceptance, i do not warrent even a second thought. I leave high school without a footprint in the sea, an imprint on their lives, though they have shaped me ,
There is no one I shall truly miss, no one who will truly rememberme, the girl who floated for four yearsin desperation amnd deteched fear, and refused to put down roots. I was a like porcelin doll who found herself to be less breakable then she’d ever considered.

I am just not well these days. Lately, I’ve taken to checking my set alarm over and over again before I am finally calm and assured enough to sleep. Really, its not just to remind myself that the alarm is set, that it will go off, that its at the right time. Really,its not just that I’m overly worried about the alarm not going off, and having to miss school, though I am. At the heart of things, it scares me to say, to confess, I’ve forgotten what the numbers mean, in triple checking, quadruple checking, i’m only trying to remind myself that 5:00 am is in the morning, trying desperatedly to remember if it comes before or after 4, or 12 or 1 o’clock. I cant help wonder, if i’m only losing my mind. Forgetting who i am.

I want three marriages, just like Mary Pickford or Marilyn Monroe (1 youthful lust, foolishness, 2 true love, 3 saftey )

OOOH FASHIONX

Clarissa Darling

Jacy Farrow

Luna Lovegood (sounds like a porn star)

Claudia Kishi

Betty Warren

Chuck Charles

Anna

So, These Chocolate Bars Help Fight Terrorism?

It's the beginning of the summer and the rest of my life, and sitting around watching movies and sleep all day, I suddenly feel like a lazy Eric Foreman (a nerd who isnt even smart), the year he took off not working or going to school and sitting around in his basement back in the seventies. You know, before he went to medical school, got a job with House and became black.

I have a business idea. The Art House, a revival movie house, that would play the kind of movies that Elwy Yost used to play on TVO's Saturday Night At The Movies which my family used to watch together each saturday night when I was growing up. The program today is rampantly disappointing me and my father with movies from the nintie, whereas there was a time when a eighties movie was rare.

The theatre would play only best classic and obscure gem you couldn't see anywhere else. The place would have a vintage dress code of the era of the night, as well as a mini-dress-up room where you can rent costumes and a vintage boutique where you can buy them. Dinner would be served, fitting with the night's flick and after and before the show, the ballroom would host a dance with music of the era. It should be like going back in time.

It would be a Grand theatre with gold and brass and red curtains and a balcony for sitting. There would also talks about the movies before they start, as well as discussion sessions. I would love to go to this place, I think some people love it too.

My Marie Antoinette dream:

I wake up in my ordinary room, gets up and finds I am in classic Antoinette garb, hair, etc.
My bedroom walls fall away replaced by a glass ceiling, walls and floor, all showing beautiful views of sky and what looks like flying over Versailles. The door begins to glow and I stumble to it opening it to find myself dressed in what looks like the blue dress, in the middle of a long row of apartments/ houses that look like Soho. There is a long red carpet stretching through the street. As I walk down the carpet, people dressed as wolves and foxes (masks) in waistcoats and gowns throw rose petals on either side. At the end of the carpet there is an abyss and the floor falls away. She falls down what seems to be a rabbit hole, suddenly wearing coronation garb. All around my there are different disembodied voices screaming insults and testimonies, false accusations and pamphlet stuff. I fall landing on a giant pink frosted cake. My clothes become covered in cake. People, who now look like an angry mob of peasants with torches, pitchforks, etc. They are all screaming “let them eat cake.” Suddenly, now in a plain white dress, I am on a scaffold. I cannot move at all, I try. They pelt me with fruits, vegetables, etc. (but they land as neon colored paint balls). Then the scaffold floor falls away and turns into water which they stand on. Reflected in the water is Versailles, suddenly it is on all 4 sides and courtiers, the king, Fersen, Labelle, Polinac, etc. are there in finery, standing against the walls while the peasants stand right against the scaffold with guillotine. The Versailles walls move in and the crowds of peasants and courtiers mingle. They all begin to laugh and suddenly the guillotine clangs down, and with a jolt, I wakes up in her own bed.

I'm The Type Of Girl Who Can Watch Hours Of Horror Movies And Not be Scared But Screams Bloody Murder When The Toast Pops Out Of The Toaster

Apparently I am endearingly charming. Who knew?

1 When I was little, I used to spend hours on the swing set in my backyard, trying the swing high enough to fly.

2 I have a ridiculous amount of purses and shoes, yet sometimes I get the feeling that if they were all to suddenly disappear, I wouldn’t care. Almost as if I only have things because I feel like I’m supposed to.

3 I love being driven around, and sticking my head out the passenger side window and feeling the wind on my face and in my hair, I even like it when its snowing.

4 I am the messiest, most disorganized person ever, and I have no intention to change, whatsoever. I’ve actually gotten to the point where I am amused, by it all.

5 I still watch cartoons sometimes, and often get way too involved with them.

6 Sometimes I wonder if we could just be characters in a movie, book, or TV show, and some author somewhere is writing our lifes, as a story, and if they`re laughing at our pathetic attempts to find meaning. Or if the entire world is just a dream. Who’s dream it is, I really have no idea.

7 I think in terms of movies, seeing everything as scenes and needing the music that is playing to perfectly sync up to what is going on, or to what I’m feeling, like a soundtrack.

8 I have extremely vivid dreams, that alternate from being impossible fairy tale-type things, and being so close to real life that for days afterwards, I am unsure whether or not it actually happened.

9 I desperately want bright yellow walls, and big, bright windows. I am also hopelessly obsessed with kitsch, loving things that look like things, such as my chocolate bar mirror, bright colours and wild patterns, and little desk toys.

10 I love big funny words, like zeitgeist, sycophant and oxymoron and make a point of using them, even when they don’t apply. When I was little, I invented my own words, like Hilo (Hi and Hello), and Cha-Chos (how I said Chaos).

11 I don’t like they type of foods (like steak, or any type of poultry), served at any fancy meals, or special occasions, and sometimes I think it would be very easy for me to be a vegetarian.

12 I love dressing up in costume, and still play dress-up, making characters out of my own clothes, when I need to cheer-up. I also have a penchant for winged eyeliner.

13 I am weirdly superstitious about some things, needing anything with a number to be one of my three lucky numbers (3,6,9)or a combination of them. I also have a lucky necklace and bracelet, that I have to wear when I’m worried about something. I also, try to find significance in everything, finding that whenever I just heard about something or am interested in a certain topic, it or things related to it, appear everywhere, or that if I did something one day and a certain thing happened, then if I do it again, the same thing will happen again.

14 I constantly fall for the villains or anti-heroes in stories, finding them more interesting and endearingly flawed, then the heroes who are often boring one dimensional characters.

15 Thanks to my Dad, my childhood memories are mainly focused around on three things: Batman (I was Batgirl, now I`m more Harley Quinn), Records and the Beatles. I was also obsessed with The Last Unicorn and The Wizard of Oz.

16 I actually prefer simple daisies and dandelions to big expensive bouquets. I love it when it the spring, the field in front of BR is full of golden dandelions, and looks like the yellow brick road, and then In summer, is full of their wispy ghosts, that you can pick and make wishes on.

17 When I was little, I wholeheartedly believed in Unicorns, Fairies, and Mermaids.

18 Sometimes i wonder if I am really as grown-up and capable of taking care of myself as I like to think. Sometimes, i still feel like a little girl who was forced to grow up, and like I missed something important.

19 I seriously envy those characters in fiction, who can just leave everything in the middle of the night, put of long cloaks and go on quests or have fantastic adventures.

20 I want to be part of some big movement or revolution, or some interesting pop culture event that becomes part of history and that everybody`s kids learn about in school.

21 Whenever I go to sleep I feel like I am wasting time, and that i should be doing something else. I love staying up really late, until everyone else has gone to sleep and I feel like I am alone in the world, or like I am watching it from somewhere else.

22 I love that moment, when in an airplane, you are taking off and the ground feels like it is disappearing under your feet. I always take my shoes off and feel the ground under my sock feet. I also really like motorcycles. I actually wish I had enough courage to get one, one day. It just seems so free.

23 I am both extremely scared and incredibly excited to go away to school next year, I`m getting worried about starting all over (again).

24 I come off as a very timid, shy person on first impression, but if you get to know me, I really never shut-up (then you wish I was shy).

25 I love to laugh, (Hi, ten minute laughing fit) it is one of the best feelings ever, like letting your guard down and letting everyone see the real you.

A Sonnet For Lizzuh

Elizabeth, You Cool Are,

I Would Hit On You

If I'd Met You In A Bar

Had I Been A Boy, Fool

I Would Have Given A Throaty, "RARR"

Because you don't Look Like A Mule

Nay, You're An Enchanting Star,

And In My World You Rule

And Reign, A Benevolent Leader

Oh, Truly You Are A Wonderful Truth.

A joke sonnet a friend randomly wrote for me in the middle of work. Somehow it really made me feel better about myself. That, and the fact that when my Best Friend saw it, she got immediately jealous and tried her own half-assed attempt at flattery.

But really, How come my girl friends are the only ones who ever fight over me or tell me I'm pretty?

"He Immediately Accosted Them, And Presenting His Compliments, Invited Them To His Inn To Eat Macaroni...

I have a reoccurring dream of being alone in a dark room.

The room is pitch dark, but it’s the middle of the day, there’s a TV with bluish light, but it’s off and cable less. The windows are covered with sheets keeping all the light out, but a faint line of brightness coming under the door. There is a giant crimson velvet bed that has kind of a rounded edge, a feather comforter and pillow back headboard. I sit on the bed alone in a red cotton slip, shearing boots, and my hair in a half-up bouffant, with a sleep mask at its base pushed up on my forehead. By the side of the bed is a pile of brand-new counter culture books and glossy movies. On the other side is a room service tray of lobster and a punchbowl. I have no worries, nothing urgent to do. I don’t know what time it is, I don’t know what day it is, I have a friend who will call me in two months and wake me up. I could stay here in bed isolated forever. This place is completely cut-off from the world, even though it sits in the middle of the city, isolated in itself by anominity and by the height of the floor. I have a feeling that if I could find this place, I might be okay. Then I think I might finally feel safe, and right. If I had a few free months here, to rebuild, reform, I might get through this okay.
Like a cocoon. I’ll immerge with the perfect version of myself, and I’ll reform. I’ll call people back, answer letters, watch new TV, and find out about current events. And I’ll finally realize what the world is about, and if I really need other people to live, to stay sane.

Morning...

Somewhere in the depths of the city, a genius sits on a rooftop, watching the stars fade, and the sun rise again.
He’s smarter than words can even try to explain, but the idea of beauty alludes him. As hard as he tries, he cannot grasp it.
He stares intently, trying to see beyond the sky, trying to see the importance that it hides. Trying to see what he thinks the dreamers see, metaphors like the stars diamonds, on black velvet sky, or the moon a giant pearl.
But he just can’t.
When he looks at the sky, the stars, the sun, he can only see what they are, what they are supposed to be. Sources of light. Dead, burning rocks echoing their light back to earth. The sun just another star, that will one day die, and take so-called humanity with it.
He knows too much.
He’s seen too much
He’s seen so much more than he’s ever seen.
Alone of the rooftop, he contemplates whether he could actually be alone. He cannot see another living soul out there, just the sky stretched endlessly in front of him, inviting him on a journey he can’t ever take.
He wonders for a minute in the end of the world had come over night while he sat there. As if he is the only person left, he can’t see anyone else. Silly thoughts, he thinks for someone who’s supposed to be so smart.
But then, he hears them.
And all the thoughts, all the secrets, won’t leave him alone even isolated on the rooftop.

- Unmask: The Secret Lives Of Superheroes
...........