guilt and pity and anger.

WHY WHY WHY

did he just tell me that he loves me?

we're done. we're through.

you ended it over a year ago.
you said you were in love with another girl.

what in the hell happened to her?

to "hopelessly?"

to telling me that, apparently, my feelings were stronger?

I don't know what he expects me to do.

erase those months of getting over him?

leave my incredible boyfriend?

use that word back?

I'm tired of feeling like other people's broken hearts are my fault.
I'm tired of apologizing for moving on, for being independent and strong.
and I'm tired of your feelings.
I'm done. I'm through.

life is wonderful.

I'm 18 today.
I had an amazing weekend.

I have a new camera and Broadway tickets.

All is right with the world.

I find this funny:

when gay people and foreigners support conservative candidates who in no way want to represent gay people or foreigners.

...Really?

I also find it funny that people I know actually believe Sarah Palin could run this country. Why is there a Palin 2012 Facebook group? Especially so soon after the election. Please, at least wait until 2011. Give Barack a chance to prove himself, and then you may properly unveil your ignorance. Let me have the illusion of your intelligence for a couple of years.

Thank GOD Obama won.

(Lookie there, a liberal that believes in God. You thought it was a Bigfoot thing, didn't you?)

ode to aaron.

This is something I wrote at Governor's School.

Background: Aaron S. was a TA/C (teacher's assistant/counselor). I was ridiculously curious about him; he seemed really unfriendly and unapproachable, but occasionally would do funny or sweet things. Also, he had a black afro. Like, a real afro. But on a white guy. Anyway, he was supervising study hall one night, and he was reading this essay to us about the roles of women, and I misbehave so I was doing this instead.


Study Hall Reflections

you just like saying "sex."
don't trip over your words, we'll lose respect for you.

is the fluffy hedge of oddly dark hair
an expression of self?--how cute.
a Jew thing?--I know your last name. and yes, that's a stereotype.
an interesting counterpoint to the strong jaw and straight nose?
a complement to the large eyebrows?
...I wonder how you would look without it. which other features would take its place?
would you be nondescript?
perhaps that is the reason.

though I might think that one who holds so much value for every single human life would try to avoid that kind of self-aggrandizing tendency toward being a subject of attention greater than others.

you fidget. a lot.
bare feet twitch and cordorouy-clad knees bounce.
you tread the room and inspect light switches.
all that energy--
--and yet NO FACIAL EXPRESSION.

oh--another possibility for the 'fro.
you like to play with it.
large and surprisingly slender hands
pull and pluck and preen and pick
odd shapes in the springing curls
--Dr. Katz, Elvis, a few variations on the same, terribly disturbing Bozo the Clown.

I am fascinated by how you fascinate me.

intellectually...
you are thoughtful. philosophical. a self-defined Kantian.
introspective. politically minded.
and you would flip a coin when deciding whether to rescue 30 people on on side of a volcanic island or 3 people on the other.
"30 people are a lot more useful than 3; you have to think rationally."
"God, a lot of you are utilitarians."

physically...
you scare the hell out of me.
the rare smile seems to fight the rigid muscle of your jaw and looks awfully out of place
--a grim reminder that, no matter how interesting you are,
I can't look you in the eyes.

but your T-shirt says you like the Decemberists. maybe it's not a lost cause.

25 day countdown.

Here's my birthday wish list:

Avett Brothers CDs (any, preferably all.)

cheesecake

a professional massage

some super cute boots

a good mp3 player (like, 20 gb.)

the complete score of Gilbert and Sullivan's The Gondoliers

my new driver's license that will say "Under 21"

a cool, sunny day

none of the stress attached to senior year

someone to finish my college applications

no more Bishop's Ball planning

a creative outlet

a life like a raucous folk song with three part harmonies

and you.

all is healed; all is health.

we're singing "Sure on this Shining Night" (the Lauridsen) in chorus at school
and I just miss you so much because
I want a faith like yours that could move mountains
I want a shameless penchant for weird behavior
I want to change my hair three times in six weeks
I want to see everything through a Kodak
I want to sweat heavily to techno and not care
I want to smile and smile and smile for no reason
I want to discuss zombies that look like puppets
I want to read poetry out loud late into the night
I want to have an iPod loaded with classical music
I want to joke about the boundaries of sexuality
I want to redefine the word "home"

I want to lay with you in the grass and stare at the Raleigh sky and hear you say we'll all stay friends and feel the hot tears make slug trails down my cheeks.

miss ivy league.

So I want to go to Princeton.

Tonight I have to write a cast bio for the show I'm in.
What should I say? That I'm 17 and have no idea what I want to do with my life? That my car's name is Henrietta and my cat's name is Staccato? That I like the smell of cigarettes and gasoline and wet city streets? That I steal cookies from work and think about sex during church?

this is too hard.

I can't figure out where I want to go to school.

All I'm asking for is a challenging, medium-sized university that's not a conservatory in a culturally-centered city with a good music school, a B.A. in Vocal Performance, and a minor in Spanish.

Is that so hard?

I've basically come to a revalation that St. John's probably isn't going to work for me. So what will?

NYU would be incredible. NYU would be amazing.

me likey.

Here's some stuff I wrote yesterday and today. Each is an independent entity.
I like them. They just came to me...god, that's so cliche.

(Disclaimer: this in no way reflects my life, chillax.)

but why should I write
of castles and kings when I
could write about you?



I could write of what I hear
of four in the morning
of hotel sheets and collapsed veins
of bruised arms
of glass ashtrays in pieces.



you left my sheets twisted and crumpled
and smoked salvia in my bathroom.
we both thought you God
but you fell so heavy
while I rose in drifting curls.


The last one's my favorite. It's actually structured. I don't have a damn clue how it happened.

soy perezosa. lo siento, mundo.

It's been a while. My good friend just read my entire blog today and showered me with praise, so I figured I'd update. :]

Here's what is going on in my life:

I went to Governor's School and it was completely incredible.

I am going to St. John's College in Annapolis, MD next fall come hell or high water.

I got dumped for the first time ever on July 19. I promptly wrote this poem:

why should I have anything to say to you?

let's be friends and

that wouldn't be fair to you and

you were so wonderful, don't think it's your fault.

you've said enough.

stop.

words are hollow and

mass-producing blank newsprint doesn't convey any information

multiply a null set and you still get zero.

the elevator smells sterilized

like clinical precision, like death in a hospital hallway and now I realize

that distance makes the heart wither, crumple,

tear itself into bleeding fragments of hope and trust and memory.

I can't even sing with any kind of feeling

because as my heart rends itself into shards

my breath stops

I feel my bones pushing through my skin

and the saline sting of hot tears as they

stain the music in my hands, as they

wet my cheeks that burn with embarrassment

while everyone stares at me like a caged animal, as they

fall like the rain outside this window

--which, by the way,

as it hits the fabric of an umbrella,

sounds just like fireworks popping, like

hot summer nights and

laughter and barbecues and

memories that continue to flood my eyes as the

puddles flood my shoes.

it's pitiful what reminds me of you--

the rain and

these jeans and

the bathroom mirror and

my tendency toward self-deprecation.

but it doesn't matter, NONE of it MATTERS

because analyzing past actions

doesn't change the consequences and

destroying the physical evidence

doesn't erase the scars and
ignoring the dreams

doesn't mean they won't turn into nightmares and

saying "I love you"

doesn't make it true.

grito con ganas

words fail they are

incomprehensible

as they rush and tumble

crashing on the rocks

insurmountable obstacles of language

the flood is frantic

and desperate

and wonderful

I shake and twitch and fidget with

emotion and anticipation that

well it doesn't make sense really

but

warm air like silk or

horchata, rice milk, sweetly and smoothly

flows and coats the throat and

embraces every pore and

I want to hug the air that touches gently

but never stifles as summer often can

I only need walls when

it is cold and empty behind them

there is too much music in this air

I dance and twirl and I

just can't help it I shout just to

relieve the pressure of being human

when this world is made for divinity

it's been a while.

This is what I believe today:

I believe that a woman has the right to do with her own body what she may, including aborting a fetus before the point of viability.

I believe that it doesn't matter whether or not I go to a great college; if I care enough, I will try hard enough to survive.

I believe that sex is completely normal and that, considering the health benefits, we might want to listen to our hormones.

I believe that we all have a dark side that will be physically manifested unless we watch horror movies and porn, or exercise vigorously.

I believe that marriage, though historically a religious institution, is merely a legal and contractual ball-and-chain and has no sanctity in modern culture that could possibly be destroyed by the private affairs or relationships between consenting adults of the same gender.

I believe that the ONLY thing of value that humans have created is music.

I believe that laws are only created by those who realize that they are too weak as humans to be morally acceptable without a mandate.

I believe it's a good thing I haven't posted in so long. It means I'm too busy being fairly pleased with my life. :]

I screw everything up.

shallow bitch
go on!

make decisions!

hurt people!

ch-ch-ch-changes.

I feel like my life is catching up finally with modern stereotypes of the average American teenager.

Pretty different things happening recently; some are good, some absolutely terrifying.

I am finally friends with I.S.; we talked some issues out a couple weeks ago and today had a wonderful conversation. His sister adopted a baby and now he's an uncle--I couldn't be more excited for him; I know how much he likes kids.

S might have HIV. He is six days older than me, and may have recently contracted a virus that leaves its victims with an average life expectancy of 33 years after contraction and that can turn into The Negative Connotation that is AIDS, thus shortening that 33 years. Why isn't there a cure? Duke University, the college/corporation that basically owns my hometown, is developing a shirt that refracts light around its wearer, thus acting as an Invisibility Cloak, but no one can find a drug to fight microscopic bodies that can't even survive in open air? This scares the hell out of me.

I am officially The Virgin in my group of friends. It has become a stretch of the mind to actually think of a close acquaintance who is not sexually active. This makes me feel pathetic. I know that losing that status at any time in my prior attempts at relationships would have been a disaster-- hindsight's nice like that--but I still feel like a child. I'm not NOT doing it for moral or religious or health or any other kind of reasons. I have no excuse. I don't want to rush it, but REALLY. I'm going to be 18 in a few months; this is pitiful.

J spent the night in jail for drug possession. Apparently people are pretty sketchy and the food sucks.

R is really good to me. Better than I could have predicted. Practically perfect in every...anyway. I'm worried. It is becoming more and more obvious that I am going to HAVE to tell my mother. I don't want her to freak out or feel like I've betrayed her trust. There are two directions in which that conversation could turn: one with the outcome I pray for, and the other as a screaming fight involving awkward questions about sexual motives and why he would want to date someone so far out of his age range. And yes, 5 years is not so much in most circumstances, but it's different! She's in high school!

It's not different. He cares about me. This is the first time someone has really cared about me like this, and if she destroys it...I will never forgive her.

On a lighter note, Hail to the Thief and Kid A are fantastic. This brings my Radiohead album rankings to:

1. Hail to the Thief
2. In Rainbows
3. Kid A
4. The Bends
5. OK Computer
6. Amnesiac
7. Pablo Honey

God knows that'll change by next Thursday. I wonder what else will.

as a pool of water.

I wish I could get all of my thoughts out of my head and format them like music files into something beautiful. I feel like every idea I have sits idle and heavy in my mind like an m4a that will not play on Windows Media Player or Samsung Media Studio or anything, really, and I don't have the skill to convert it.

I'm toying with the idea of attempting to write again. I haven't written since my passion died in "Creative Writing" last year, at least not seriously. I feel like I could; I keep getting little flashes of images that make me feel like not such a failure as a writer.

I get like this sometimes. It's a mental block, and it really annoys me. My workload in my classes is a little too much to handle at the moment, and with upcoming performances and Spring Youth looming over me, drooling like the monsters under the bed in Calvin and Hobbes, it's like trying to sprint through caramel carrying a cow on my back.

Frustration is an understatement.

But he sends me cute text messages, so most days I figure I'll be okay. :]

in my head.

today I sat and smoked myself to cancer

thinking about the dancer at the bar

well, how was I to know that a crush could just implode

til it became a grudge eclipsing every star

and yes, I know my addictions run the gamut

the drugs, the smokes, the booze, the 24

but you can't make the turkey colder or skew me less bipolar

let me list the things about you I abhor

horrible, you're so easy, talk sleazy

you led me off the plank and left me queasy

and that is why you can't rock my world

you swore that you were taken when I met you

but yes, you did undress me from afar
a gentle concubine, you skip amongst the mines
just a product of the endless, empty grind

you lack the curves that prove a proper lady
a slender slave with sluttish, sleepy eyes
though once I was emoting and Bono-lyric quoting
I have found another, be my guest and die

starry eyes, she's warm-glancing, entrancing
and now I'm through with all your sick, sad ranting
and that is why you can't rock my world

I've lost you and now I glide through the silky sky

it's so blue and you're just old news that is why

so screwed, cadaver gone blue, this has died

your machine has grown gangrene

and now I see right through your lies

with ripe wonder, I plunder the village

now that I know I've become her

and that is why you can't rock my

that is why, that is why you'll never ever

in a goddamn millennium

be my girl

I watch frozen stars on the way home

I watch frozen stars on the way back home

I watch frozen stars on the way home

I watch frozen stars burn out on the way back home.

--"that is why" by say anything

no one reads this but me.

I think that's alright though. This particular blog is really just a way to sort out what exactly I'm feeling right now.

Right now, I'm listening to a few of the songs off of Line in the Sand, Zox's new album and reminiscing. I'm a little sad, a little embarassed, a little contemplative.

I don't think I was an idiot to care about him. I knew it wouldn't and couldn't work; I'm not that naive girl chasing the impossible. I spent months wanting him so badly--but I never became a burden on him. I didn't call him. Ever. I gave him space and respect and understanding.

And see? I gave him space whenever he seemed like he needed it, but he came back to me again and again. There was a period of time during the summer when I talked to him online for at least a couple hours every night.

Then there was all that drama. Love, and my age, and professionalism. That was a bad time. I felt angry and sad and childish and stupid...but he came back again eventually, though not in the same way.

Friends with benefits is not a good thing to be in the long term. And by the way, he did a terribly good job being a typical guy. Not that I was making the best decisions, but he pretended at least a little to care about me--and hadn't we had that discussion about leading people on just a few months before?

Turns out he doesn't care. She called him that night when I was staying over with her and told him that she thought he was falling for me. He apparently said that anonymous parties were attempting to convince him to start a relationship with me. A real relationship.

Don't think I was excited about that. I was apprehensive and unsure of my feelings on that topic, but I still wanted to talk to him about it.

But then he stopped talking. Seems odd for a person who once told me that I understood him better than most people.

I mulled over possible reasons for the silence, then decided that it wasn't up to me to interpret. I gave him space...as usual. He continues to take this space. A month and a half of space and silence.

I guess he doesn't want to come back this time, though I desperately wish he would, if only to explain why. He never did talk about his feelings much.

You introduced me to this song and it was so beautiful, but it tore me apart. You apologized for the lyrics once, but they didn't hurt any less then, and they don't hurt any less now.

"and if we started all over today

I think we know that we'd end up in the same place

maybe you're right and we've got nothing to say

I wanna hear it anyway."