A bit amiss

I don't know what it is, but the last few days have been off. At first I thought it was something to do with me, or the weather, or simply just being depressed at having parentals breathing down my neck for an entire weekend, but theres just something else tugging at the edge of my mind. Its like a damp weight I can't shake; like somethings about to happen and its too terrible to really let in. Kinda crazy I know, but Chris agreed with me and we chatted about it while seeking comfort food in the Atascadero Albertsons. If I went a little out there and forgot for a minute that I wasn't a lunatic with a crystal ball, I would say that It feels like a tragedy happened; or someone died, and the rest of the world hasn't caught up yet. As if I'm just waiting for the inevitable; powerless to do anything about it, and its right at my doorstep. There's something in the wind that makes me not want to go outside- a spooky sort of night that is recreated with music and good filmography in horror movies. I don't know why it scares me but it does. Its similar to that feeling I used to get in middle school- when depression was something i whined about to my diaries.

Before I pinpointed this, my head was absorbed with finding out what it was that was making me lethargic and on edge at the same time- that feeling I had after my grandpa died- in mourning and waiting for the next blow to come. Is it a premonition of some sort? I have no idea; but its creeping me out and I'm waiting for it to go away. I hope it does, or that the blow comes, because the anguish is in the waiting, not in the moment of truth.

into the depths - poetry for the few

A skyline is etched into my thoughts
i miss you
i stare out windows
hoping for your scent
deaf ears cannot feel or bleed
with an early morning and an empty voicemail
silent moments
so solid beside me
i call a name to the night
but it is morning
complete with faulty window
and heartless ticking
of moments alone
my heart throbs
realizing its use
and aches
after this marathon we've run
my thoughts are lost in this
dew clinging to my ankles
wading too deep
in such a shallow pool
a pale imitation
makes its entrance
expecting awe
i cannot pretend any longer
for i've seen the original
its mold
my life a lie before your face
my efforts in vain
before attempting you
and i yearn for it
as i do air after a breath.

this is what makes life divine

I had an odd conversation with a friend about love over the weekend.

Me: "But why aren't you out there trying to find someone to fall in love with?"
Mr. Friend: "I'm not sure I even want that"
Me (thoroughly confused): "What?"
Mr. Friend (patiently): "There are plenty of guys who have gone on being bachelors forever. That life is just easier."
Me: "But don't you want to be in love?"
Mr. Friend: "I've never really wanted it."
Me: "Because you've never experienced it?"
Mr. Friend: "yeah, i guess."

To some people, this might not be strange. To me, it was like two squares talking about possibly never wanting or needing a square shaped hole to fit in. (Wow, totally sounded naughty but not going there, we're talking about love peoples) I realized an extraordinarily long time ago that I was addicted to falling in love, being in love, searching for love. Its just one of those odd things I found intoxicating and easy to do, like Bejeweled 2 on yahoo games (the downfall of my anti-procrastination efforts). Being in love has the same nasty effect on me that buying something on Ebay does: giddy satisfaction. But this newfangled idea from one of my best friends was shocking to my system: no hope for romantic love? It consumes my thoughts and guides my actions, because it is the goal at which I aim with every inch of my existence. And for him, this doesn't matter at all. It sounds like the classic shock kids brought up in Christian homes face when they meet the aetheist's kid for the first time: how can something you've always known to be true, right, and worth pursuing over everything, mean nothing or even be a nasty thought in someone elses mind? Something tells me that he'll find someone amazing, that is the perfect fit in his life, and he'll see the value of loving her, and wonder what he did without it.

And then again why do I have to be right? Maybe my addiction is really that: something harmful that eats away at all other aspects of my life. True I haven't been single since the beginning of 8th grade (a good 5 years back), but why would i want to be single? I know plenty of people who would argue independance, freedom, less turmoil in life, but i really don't crave any of those things, because they exist while out of a relationship just as they do in it, just with a slightly different spin on them. Detremental as my addiction is, the worst of it probably comes with the fact that I hang on to relationships longer than I should, even when all the happiness has been sucked out and the only good that is left is shallow and hungry. The fear of being out of love, the possibility that I'd be giving up the one I'm supposed to be with, as well as the thought that I might not find one better, cripple me. Current circumstances prove to be challenging in this way, and the 2 year relationship with a boy that once resembled all my happiness is hanging on my love of love, not my good sense. Advice on this matter would be extremely helpful, for I am a fool in love, and a bigger fool out of it, so my addled brain can't think on this subject any longer.

higher thoughts (don't bother if you don't like religious babble)

i've been thinking about everything Paul said to me on that very unexpectedly long phone conversation last weekend. After a 5 hour phone call I was left with a list of verses and a very warm feeling of love and another of cold uncertainty and instructions to take time out of my day to think about God. Its useless to compare him to human circumstances but its all I know, and so it feels like he's my soulmate and I've cheated on him. Even though i know he'll take me back in a heartbeat, i feel too guilty and ashamed to accept. How can so many wrongs be forgotten? Of course, being God, He isn't barricaded by the blindness of human nature, and can forgive and forget what He pleases, but it is unfathomable to my mind and therefore I feel more guilty than I have will to be relieved from it. Sick, painful waves crash over my thoughts and my heart whenever i have the slightest thought of attempting to talk to God about anything, or even admitting that his presence is always with me, because that would mean that he witnessed everything my naiive mind ignorantly believes is so hidden until divulged at my will. How vain is that? Plus i cannot bear the thought that he already knew i would fall, and yet gave me so much joy so short of time ago. If I knew a friend would betray me.... well then again i dont' know what i would do. probably sulk and accuse them of doing terrible things before they happened. and again i remind myself that God cannot, will not, and never will be anything so tainted as a human.

I miss peace in myself. when trying to convert or "save" people, many evangelists look to scripture to prove their points through logic, or point out that hell will burn you in more ways than are consiously fathomable to scare some into faith, but for me it was the feeling of letting go of the worries of life, completely existing in joy, and feeling a warm calm in my heart, instead of the dead weight that sits there brooding now. Ian touched on it my sophomore year, when he made it his life's goal to convert me. It was fire and brimstone most of the time, which i recoiled from, but then he touched on the amazing freedom from stress, from jealousy, from the tendrils of society that wind their way into what we think we need, and from everything that had ever plauged me since i'd cut my wrists in junior high.

i feel as though i was walking such a straight path, and then suddenly was tossed across the expanse of the earth to lie in a gutter, and there is no one to blame but myself. the love that i once felt so purely like snowflakes on bare skin had been replaced by hail that only pounds until all you can do is hide from it and take comfort in more meaningless things.

i never loved before i loved God. and i have loved a great many times. my life, my self, my meaning is lost without it. what can i do but run back into the arms of the only constant source of that which sustains me and beg for forgiveness. like begging for air to come back into my lungs or feeling back into a numb leg.

I don't know where to begin, but i guess that is silly, because here it is.

love is a little splendored thing

It seems as though my mantra for life, the thing with which I understand my God, my friends, my parents, my boyfriends... is now suddenly more multi-faceted than the special menu at In and Out. Love has always been a thoughtless thing for me, I find myself in love more easily and naturally than leaves find themselves falling in autumn. The excentricities and complexities of other people's personalities are so intriguing, they never cease to capture my heart, and in that I find fault in myself. And today I opened my eyes and didn't see the man in front of me. A chink in the system, a crack in his wonderful exterior now swims beneath my devotion and causes so much doubt I no longer place my future in his hands. How can one boy not be enough for me? Everyone preaches soulmates from soapboxes and true loves from rooftops, but experience contradicts it so harshly.
All passion is gone from my love, and love without passion is nothing in my book. Without wanting, how can we have?
I'm wearing black today. Everyone says it brings out the blue in my eyes, like putting diamonds on velvet at Tiffany's. I feel thinner in black, like the excess worry inside, bloating my happiness to unrecognizable proportions, can show itself on the outside, soaked into the blackness of my clothing. This is too depressing. Later.

flooded

Friends are idiots. As soon as you let them within an inch of your emotions, everything is black until you wake up with everything in shambles. The more south you go in California, the faker everything is- the people, the smiles, the building facades, the morals, and everything else in between. Not that north is much better, but its calmer and more secure in being honest, even if it means pissing someone off. Here, it seems, pissing people off is the game of choice, and everyone plays it under the guise of sincerity. People are just too complex these days, like a simple looking song with five flats sandwitched between the lines. Beautiful, intriguing and intoxicating as these complexities may be, I would much rather have a beginner's nocturne- simple, sad, and stunning.

My mother always tells me that grounded people attract the crazies, and that, unfortunately, I'm one of the grounded people. I'm quite sick of the crazies. Unbearably Loud Suitemate #1 pounded on my door this morning and bellowed, "It's 8:30 in the morning; turn your music down." I had a million responses for her that were centered around the sex that you can hear anywhere within a mile radius every time her boyfriend comes to town, and her own loudness at all times of the day, but instead I shut the door and turned down Jack Johnson, who by the way is the most mellow artist out there, and one more turn of the dial made the volume turn completely off, so it couldn't have been that loud anyway. Those are the kind of people that make you want to bang your head against the wall until part of it is dented, then confront them with "YOUR IDIOTICNESS MADE ME DEFORMED!" but unfortunately i like my short term memory. Its the long term i could do without.

All of the above rudeness that came from Unbearably Loud Suitemate #1 came only a few nights after another anger-inducing evening.... friday i believe it was. An 80s Pj party was planned in honor of Unbearably Loud Suitemate #1 and the "stress" she's had to deal with. I was to be included for whatever reason, but was completely ignored throughout the grocery shopping and the primping periods by her, and only recieved giggles and odd comments from Southern Cutie Suitemate, to my profound confusion. I tried to be bubbly and participate in the drunken revelrie, but its hard when the am I wanted question is thudding around in my head. Then as a crowning glory to the night, the suitemate that had ignored me all evening suddenly burst out with a monologue about how great it was to be friends with me and my counterpart Christof. Hurl? por que? bah.

Thoroughly depressed and flu symptoms aren't a good combination. Plus its raining outside. Could it be a more dreary day? I wish I was winnie the pooh, because then i could sing fun songs about it and eat honey and be lovably round, instead of attempting to conform to society's twiggy-esque craze. I need a new pair of gaudily colored socks. That might transform this mood, but not today, because i might sneeze on them.

away from the sun that shines

Every weekend I go home is like the last weekend I go home. Its like hitting yourself on the head with a hammer, saying "what the hell?!? That hurt!" and then convincing yourself it won't hurt next time, only to repeat the retarded pattern. Isn't that the definition of insanity; doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different outcome? I think I am insane most of the time. For example, I heard a song by 3 Doors down in the mall the other day, and with an extraordinarily painful squeeze, my heart yelled "SEAN!!" all the way up to my brain. And now I've searched it, (the internet is the shiznit) and only slightly illegally downloaded the song from one of my fellow dorm-mates. Its now playing on repeat in my itunes, and I keep expecting not to think about Sean if I listen to it enough. But alas, stupid childish crushes continue to plague my happiness.

I miss the quiet contemplation that used to be my day. No noise but the whirring of poetic and fantastical thoughts creating themself outside my window, no matter what time of day. But now again I'm sucked down into the tragedy of friendship, that cruel torture that is closeness. All boundaries broken and still I feel no exhilaration, because it is forced, not easy anymore. All decisions, all manner of footsteps have to be performed around those people that depend on me, and I'm suddenly not allowed to stray on my own path, in pursuit of everything worth pursuing, but instead twisted by guilty conscience and guilty words to swerve around my own road, windshield wipers off and the music far too loud.

Is it human nature to take good and cast it aside, wanting so much better? These ideals are what crush me, and lead me to abandon lives and people, insisting at fate with a vengeance that, no, this cannot be my life, but some sort of greener pastures are just over the next week. I reach the blossomed tops of hills and turn around, looking for a more challenging mountain to climb. With love I am the worst sort of cantidate. The love I have now should suffice, but my soul aches for something else, something more pure, more satisfying, deeper somehow. He is amazing, and the sight of him makes the music in my head resound with less force, he calms my soul, but do I really want a man that doesn't fight his battles, puts mingling with middle schoolers (on some game that will not ever affect his life other than keeping him from living it) above paying attention to me, only wants to hang out with me "sometimes", and is completely tactless? Maybe it is the fact that I love him despite these shortcomings that makes it suffice. However countless better cantidates, both fictional and real, plague every feeling about him I have, convincing me it isn't enough. God im rambling.

what is really going on?

I had to crawl over my roomate's boyfriend's lanky Abercrombied legs in the early AM only to forget that my cell phone was a few leaps away.

Of course it rang- some sort of tango i only use for people that are fun to talk to- and I crashed into the dorm issued desk with massive force to Brandon's chipper voice that wouldn't shut up about some online game. "That prat." was all that went through my head; I've been thinking in British lately. Unplugging my blue christmas lights proved so difficult I left them on, blinking annoyingly in the dark. Dark to me, because i'm hopeless in anything but sunlight- a total idiot.

By the time I woke up my newly dyed hair still smelled dyed and it about turned me green. I raced to the Flintstones (those miracle candies that keep you blissfully thinking you're healthy) and pulled on clothes and thought "today might be a bad day." As predicted the neighbor of doom struck again and decided she was going to excersise her executive power over the weak minds of our dormmates and make me enemy target #1. Im pretty sure I pissed her off with apathy, but it could be something equally important like spending money on hand soap or toilet paper stealing (neither of which im guilty of). After weeks of cute girly babble and invitations to parties I was starting to feel included again, and my junior high acceptance light went off somewhere inside the grey matter. What was worse is i've concluded that she and the ex-best friend are conspiring to bring me down, if not break me of perpetual laid-backness and non-confrontationalness. They shall not succeed, but I don't think they know that yet. So the ex-best friend's stringy brown hair is always swishing into someone's room I thought knew better than to invite Satan into their residence. I suppose not.

It kind of sucks that they all hated her first, and I didn't, but now that I've pinpointed her killer instincts down to an alien science, and fled her scene, they all shrug and say she's not that bad. All I do is smile and call everyone "doll" or "hun" while shifting about in converse or some sort of new hat. Can hating me be that easy? I hope I don't have one of those "hateable" faces that sort of make you punchable to people you don't know. Never gotten that reaction, but Im still somewhat young.

Everything is brown now, including my hair and shoes. My toilet paper has been stolen, but there is nothing brown about that, for I've gone and stolen someone elses and affixed a neon sticky note to it, explaining that I'm too poor to keep overlooking stolen toilet paper. I'm finally adjusting to Maroon 5, but now i learn that Rob Thomas is going solo, which means more adjusting.

Lists, lists and more lists are eating up class time. I concentrate when Im not looking at a teacher. Looking at them only makes me wonder what the hell could make them want to be teachers, and whether they know that chin hairs the size of small children are poking people as they talk, and by then the subject matter is lost. Ironic that the only class I was meant to love is taught by a bimbo who talks about ballet and her fiance. She's in her 70s so fiance isn't that cute.

I'm tired of some people, including friends and boyfriends.

I just want to be alone, but being alone makes other people moody. I swear around 40 hours of alone-ness will leave me stable for the next month or so of bone-crushing stalkery hanging out. Can't wait till summer but then again it means leaving here, so whatever is making me want it must be crazy. At least I won't have to stumble over someone elses boyfriend at 2 in the morning, unless I invite him over.