An Excerpt:

Someday some one will probably ask me when I knew I loved him. Maybe it’ll be my kid or my best friend or my next lover.

And I’ll nod.

Bought this book from the Powell’s in Portland. I had heard of it, from somewhere I don’t remember and resolved to buy it, even though I hated teen fiction. I skipped the whole genre you see? I went from Brown Bear Brown Bear What Do You See? to Harry Potter and then to Patricia Cornwell by the fifth grade. As a fifth grader reading adult crime novels, you tend to feel a bit snooty and superior to teen fiction, with its bad cliches and poorly written love themes. I didn’t care about love. I didn’t care about the feelings of alienation and self-induced misery that happen during that period.

But something, I wish I could remember what it was, made me want it badly. I guess part of it might have been the fact that I was myself going into my freshman year of high school, the very start, after two years of homeschooling. I had lost the opportunity to interact with my peers during this crucial self discovery time. I was mentally still in the place I had been in sixth grade. Insecure, but still confidant I was more mature then my peers. Obviously I wasn’t. There’s a certain maturity in accepting the maturity of you age.  Kids are mature in that they know they are carefree and play. Teens are secure in they they are awkward, miserable, and vain. Adults are secure in that the world sucks and they know they can’t fix it so why bother? I think I wanted to know what I was jumping into. I was bullied in the sixth grade by the popular kids. I wanted to know if that was the same in high school. I wanted to know what it felt like, so that I could be prepared.

This book was the key.

I read it in three days, not my best reading time, but not my worst.

I hated it.

I thought the author was vain and self centered. I thought the things that she wrote about doing as a fourteen year old were scandalous and made me doubt her character. I hated the writing style, so off kilter and hard to read, hard to remember one character from the next.

What did I know? Who was I to judge?

I didn’t have a clue where she came from. It seemed to me that it was a place far more and far less adult then my own.  I couldn’t identify with any of it, at all. I had never really crushed on a boy or a girl like she had. I had never any interest in social groups like Earth Club or a Gay-Straight Alliance.

I know now.

Four years later I come back to that book, and scan it. Times change, people change, I sure as hell changed during those four years.

Scanning turned to reading. I reread it. I identified.

My biology teacher is trying to give a review lecture for the test on Friday. I could get a zero on the test and still have an A in the class. Its kind of depressing.

This is not an education. I am in Day Care.

How many times has Sam told me we’re in day care? How many times had I said it myself?

Thomas and I joke about Sam sometimes. Good naturedly of course, but at the same time in frustration. “He’s got the sex drive of a rock.”. “He’s not interested.”

From Zoe:

Conversation with a sexually repressed adolescent male.

I know where you come from Zoe, with your frustration.

The point I’m trying to get across is that I judged this book too quickly. I dismissed it. And then, before I even could think to remember what it was about, my life became so much like it. Frustration, confusion, the almighty teenage anthems! I read back over Zoe Trope’s words, and find they are exactly what I’ve been trying to communicate with myself and the world, for so long. She said for me, what needs to be said. (Most of it anyway…..)

Question of the Day: Would it have made a difference? If I had gone back and reread this book sooner? How much of difference does it make, knowing that others have felt what you feel?

It doesn’t change what happened to me, in high school. Reading Zoe’s book. But I get an odd sense of comfort from it. Knowing that I’m not alone in those feelings. Colleen always said she wouldn’t feel that way. It made me feel worse for feeling the way I do. For missing high school and hateing it at the same time.

I guess… we all just need to know we are not alone. And to give things a second chance.

~*I can use a little company, a little kindness could go a long way…..*~ Come Back~ Depeche Mode.

Music: Depeche Mode-Come Back//Karla DeVito- We Are Not Alone (from the Breakfast Club Soundtrack)

Why must everyone have designer clothing? For reals? I mean what’s the point? Just because your stupid t-shirt says Abercombie and Fitch, doesn’t mean that I’ll like you any better. Just because you have the latest Hollister sweatshirt doesn’t mean that deep down you aren’t a bitch.  I hate trying to shop for clothes these days. Every fucking store has nothing but clothes that say nothing but the designers name. Its so stupid. And why can’t I find a decent pair of jeans anymore? With a human shape and size. Without these ugly ass sequins? Or stupid rhinestone designs? I don’t mind certain rhindstone designs, but generally don’t put them on jeans. Jeans need to be hardy. Need to be wearable. You can”t be afraid to sit down because you might move your ass the wrong way and rub them off.

-_-

In other news, why is it that the first day you like a haircut, the second day you’re infatuated with yourself because of the haircut, and the third day you think it sucks and can’t figure out how to do the hair like the stylist did, the way you wanted it?

Or is it just me?

In other, other news, my room looks like no one lives there. It looks like there’s activity, but no one LIVES there.

The blue makes my eyes hurt. It also makes me cry, because it is so bare.

Music: Repo! The Genetic Opera Soundtrack//The Thompson Twins

It depends on the discussion itself. Just because one is discussing UFO’s does not necessarily mean they believe in them.  Either way, as long as someone has solid proof for a theory, even if it is aliens and UFO’s, they are not “bonkers.” Personally, I believe that in the whole of the universe, it is highly unlikely that there is not other life. Of course we here on earth could be unique. BUT the fact that there are not just  humans on earth, but many other thousands of species, is more of a suggestion that there is more out there.

Song:  Deftones- Hole In The Earth (Renholder Remix)

]]> http://syntheticaesthetic.wordpress.com/2009/09/16/writers-block-the-truths-out-there/feed/ 0 syntheticaesthetic http://syntheticaesthetic.wordpress.com/2009/09/16/confidance/ http://syntheticaesthetic.wordpress.com/2009/09/16/confidance/#comments Thu, 17 Sep 2009 06:04:47 +0000 syntheticaesthetic http://syntheticaesthetic.wordpress.com/?p=16 ]]> Confidence is a nice thing.

I’m glad to have someone who’s not a part of my immediate family to seem to have total confidance in me. I don’t know why, and I don’t think Sam knows why, he’s so confident in me, but most everything he says to me carries that message in it, sometimes hidden and sometimes not.

I love how he thinks I have talents. I don’t really, but he thinks I do, and doesn’t hesitate to say so. I asked him why he thought I had talents and he couldn’t really come up with a good answer, but he stood by his original statement. He’s such a sweetie, trusting, young thing.

I adore him.

Even if he makes me mad sometimes. Although he’s done really good this year. I’m SO proud of him. I finally got through to him. He communicates so much better these days. He’s not afraid to talk about REAL stuff not just school. I think he tells me a lot about his life. Family things, college things, etc. He keeps calling and emailing, and he got a cell phone because my mother and I asked him to. We just spent the last two hours texting. It made me feel dare I say it? Bubbly and warm, and giggly, and down right happy! He always has the best timing in doing something so adorably nice right after I get down, and he never even knows it! I’m still miserable, but this helped a hell of a lot.

I hope this keeps up. I really do. Because if I can keep him close for a long time, that means my high school days won’t have been a complete waste of time, effort, and emotional agony.  I’m sad that the last time I’ll see him is next weekend, at least for a few months. He says he wants to see me during Christmas break, and I totally want to see him too so……

In other news, I have a snazzy  new haircut and dye.

Music: Depeche Mode- I Feel Loved

I’ve tried to write this post four times now. Each and everytime I try, I’ll type something wrong and the page will reload.

Story of my fucking life.

Its so indicative of where I am right now. The last incarnation of this post was beautifully eloquent–at least by my standards. Then POOF. Its gone in a whirl of cursing and frustration.

My head itches. And my fucking fingernails look like shit. They’re still wet.

And I’m still trying to rewrite this post. It won’t be as good as the last one, that’s for sure.

I guess the point of the last one, that I was building towards was “The Kids Aren’t Alright.” by the Offspring. What I mean to say is…..

I’m tired of people asking how I am.

I’m not tired of people asking how I am.

You see, the thing is, I don’t know how I am. Even if I did know, (shit there’s a dent in my nail polish now) I wouldn’t be able to verbalize it. There’s no fucking way. Except, isn’t that what I’m trying to do now with this post of doom? (Time for the hair to come out of the holder, scratch it, itch it, cut it again the annoying tender flesh, aren’t you glad your chopping it off tomorrow? Its late you know, just give up.)

Here’s a little tidbit of info that would surprise some– I’m not good with feelings. Shocker ain’t it? I’m so talkative. So opinionated. I offer advice to others whether they like it or not because I feel they gotta know what I think. But the truth is, and I know this is hard to believe since I’m such a chatty cathy, is that 95% of the things that I think and feel will never be known to another living soul. Not that I’m unique in my feelings and thinkings. I’m quite ordinary, in all ways. What I meant though, is that the precise feelings/thoughts that I’m feeling/thinking at that particular moment in time, and the reasonings and backgrounds of it all will never be known to another living soul.  95% of the time.

I guess I’m vain. I put up pictures on myspace and facebook of myself. I take photos and post them on DeviantART. I talk alot. I want people to know me. I want people to care about me. I want people to know my reasonings and my background. Its almost like I want to force feed people my autobiography. Or a biography. Not too picky.  (Of course this inner observation clashes with the fact that I don’t share or acknowladge my feelings doesn’t it? Perhaps its that all too great self restraint that I have in action here.)

I guess the reality is that there comes a point in every human being, a differing point for differing people, where they can no longer stop the dam. They can no longer keep it bottled up. I hit that point earlier this year. It wasn’t my fault at first. It was Colleen’s. She dragged my biggest secret of my high school times out of me—  my adoration for a boy. She opened up an unstoppable dam. Allison found out. And once Colleen and Brittney gossiped, she found out. And then Thomas. (And none of these people matter to you, nonexistant reader so I won’t bother to explan who the players are. This is my journal. For my thoughts. For me to get to know me. I’d like feedback, but it won’t happen.) Once they knew my biggest secret, I suppose, the road was paved for everything else. The oft-dreading soul spilling. I found I needed it, but only would allow it to happen when pressed at first. Then it just kept coming and coming like word vomit. At least for Brittney and Thomas. I tried not the drive them insane.  I felt bad when I had to spew to them.

You see, they’ve got more rights then me to be miserable.

And I guess that’s what it all comes down to in my head. I have everything. A wonderful family. Decent childhood. I’ve never lacked any phyiscal need. Always had food, clothes, water, home, extra fun things. Concerts and events and what not. I HAVE NO RIGHT TO BE UNHAPPY WHEN OTHERS IN THIS WORLD INCLUDING MY FRIENDS HAVE NOT GOT WHAT  I DO. Brittney once told me that the thing she like most about me, and this isn’t an exact quote or anywhere near one, was the fact that I have everything, and don’t complain about my life as bad as everyone else who have perfect lives do. I want to say she’s wrong, that I don’t have that perfect life that she thinks I do. But that’s just it, from her perspective I do.

I suppose Colleen has a similar viewpoint, except that she’s in the same boat as I am. She’s got that “perfect” life too, only I’d bet its not as perfect to her just like mine isn’t perfect to me.  She can’t see why I don’t just go after what I want. She gets mad when I tell her I can’t. I guess my best example is the incident after Homecoming this year. The dance had been pretty fun, with only a few hitches ironed out by a good time with Sam, and I would have been perfectly content to just call it a night and go to bed after we reached Brittney’s house.  Instead they wanted to grill me about Sam (in front of Brittney’s little sister even!) It was embarrassing and uncomfortable. I was still unused to the idea of talking to others about my feelings for him.  They pushed and pushed and pushed. Why don’t you? Why don’t you? Why are you so stubborn? Why are you so scared? There’s nothing to be scared of! Colleen was awful. She always finds a way to make me feel belittled and insignifcant, and just like a total waste of space. Inadequate, next to her almight queenlyness. I tried to convey my feelings (ha! point I have found you again!!!!!) but every way I tried to say it, seemed like total rubbish. Not good enough. Sorry, but your castle is easily penetrable.

I stopped talking to them about him (and anything else “sensative”) for a while. Allison, despite her talent for being even more whiney and annoying then myself, was giving an honest effort to be helpful and supportive, even if she did try to mettle which got me into more trouble and confusion with him then I’d have liked. And then I was friends with Thomas and he was very indulgent. I probably annoyed him so  much with it. And then Brittney again.

I wish they knew how much I appreciate them. I think my converstaions with them in the latter part of the year were the closest to soul spilling I ever really got. Which is sad. I have always wished for my best soul bearing to be with my mother. But for some reason I could never tell her the depth of my feelings for Sam. She still thinks I think of him only as a best friend. I’ll let her think that. I don’t think she’d have approved of a relationship, probably in my defense. He was never as attentive as I have wished for him to be. He got better, loads better, but never very interested in my life other than the obligtory “you asked me and in order not to get yelled at or mad at or feel guilty I’ll ask you.”

I’m sure it got to the point for Brittney and Thomas that they grew sick of hearing poor Sam’s name fall from my lips. I feel like I spoke about him ad nauseum, because he was in my thoughts so much, surely he must have been spoken about that much too. I knew I had to tone it down and stop before I drove them crazy. I succeeded in only speaking of him when one of them brought the topic up.

I started bottling it up again. And not just my feelings for Sam. My fear of the end of high school and begining of college. My fear of losing the people that mattered to me, of leaving them. The regret of wasting my life, of not accomplishing anything important in eighteen years. Of just sitting and waiting for life to come to me, even after figuring it wouldn’t. My fears of inadequecy. Uselessness. The fear that my family would crumble after I left, not because I was gone, but just the inevitablility that comes from parents who no longer care as much for each other in the way they used to , my mother’s bitterness, my father’s bitterness, my brother’s bitterness. My brother lonely with no other distribution for the anger that comes out in waves from my folks when they’re mad at each other. For my mother who’ll be the only girl left with insensitive boys. For my father, who suffers quietly I believe, lonely, misunderstood, underratted, and ignored.

For my own lonelyness.

Ever since I was little I’ve felt the way I do now, though it’s grown over the years. I’ve always felt lonely. I could be surrounded by family, friends, people. It wouldn’t matter. I’d still FEEL terribly, achingly, alone. For no reason. And that’s my biggest secret. I have wonderful friends, wonderful family. But I’m alone and miserable, so terribly miserable. Solitary confinement, population me.

No reason.

That I know.

I want people to know it I think.

I DON’T want people to know it I think.

I’m writing this, but hoping they never read it at the same time hoping they do.

I know I don’t really want to deal with the questions that go with the declarations of misery. A person cries out they’re depressed and slashes their wrists. People ask questions. I person drinks themselves away everyday. People intervene. I’m not so desperate or dramatic as that. But still, if I tell people I’m miserable, and I say it enough, and SOUND LIKE I MEAN it (I’ve told Sam I’m miserable before, but he’s never said a thing. He doesn’t want the conversation that follows either. Doesn’t care.) they’ll have to say or ask something, just to cover their bases and make sure they can’t feel guilt in the future. I bet that’d annoy me.

I feel like no one will ever know me. I’ve always felt that way. I’ve done what I can to make my interests apparent.  I print pictures of my favorite things. I list them on social networking sites. I talk about them. But no one KNOWS ME. I don’t know me.

I don’t want to look back at my life and say that I NEVER KNEW ME. That’s why I hold so much hope for college.

But I need to remember that things NEVER HAPPEN AS PLANNED.

As my grandfather wrote in my graduation card, after my grandmother got sick the first time and they couldn’t show up, the only family planning on it…. “LIFE IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU ARE MAKING PLANS.” Nothing ever works out the way I want.

Nothing ever holds up to THE GREENER GRASS.

Nothing ever lives up to expectations or the hype.

Music: Cage- I Never Knew You

You’d think something is wrong with my iTunes library– the song ISN”T a Depeche Mode song. Still, the winner, with a shockingly low 57 plays, makes sense to me. When I used to have a bathroom shared only with my mother, and an actual bath not a shower, I would plug in my iHome while bathing before school and listen to the album its on. It was the first song I heard by the band, thanks to iTunes’ “Single of the Week” feature. The song is The Kill’s Cheap and Cheerful, and it was the song I played for my senior slideshow at graduation. It spoke volumes of how I felt at the time.

I’m bored of cheap and cheerful
I want expensive sadness
Hospital bills, parole
Open doors to madness

I want you to be crazy
‘Cause you’re boring baby when you’re straight
I want you to be crazy
‘Cause you’re stupid baby when you’re sane

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G6wUPCqwW

First off, lemme say, this girl is pretty much a bitch. Not the worst bitch I’ve ever known, no  that distinction goes to someone else of whom I shudder when I think of its name. But still…this girl is very high and mighty on herself. She thinks she can save the world. She thinks she’s perfect and knows what’s best for everyone around her. She isn’t afraid to tell you what she likes on you and what she thinks you should do, according to her liking. She hates the way I dress and always tried to make me change. Its annoying. Recently she’s undergone some changes, including heavy drinking, pot smoking, and partying.  She’s a highly intelligent, pretencious, pot smoking, prat.

And she assigned me the ‘Lost” Penguin.

I was insulted. I’m a lot of things. But to have someone ELSE tell me that I’m lost was not something I wanted to hear. What right did she have to tell her friends and me that we were “lost” “drama queens” “Whores” “femanists” or what have you right along with other friends labled as “nice” “sexy” “funny” and other “postitive” things?

I’m still mad about it. Its rude, even if its not “wrong” per se. I confronted her about it—well asked her about it really to see if she could justify it. I wasn’t satisfied.

Transcript :

Me: The lost one?

Her: That you seem much more in your element when away from school, enjoying your camera and space in general. Not at all a bad thing!!!!

WTF? What the hell does that mean?

But it got me thinking. How transparent am I? I feel lost. God knows I do. I’m insecure and scared now. Damn it I am lost, if not in the way she may mean.

I suppose though………we’re all lost from time to time. We just have to muddle through it. Pray we get it right. But how do we start muddling?

Listen to it now. I’ve never heard an album that hit me quite like this. That was exactly both where I am, and where I want to be, seperately, at the same time.

There are some DM fans that don’t like it. But you can’t please them all. The band has changed. Grown. Get used to it. It can’t all be the same. They are at different points in their lives, just like I am. I’m glad that the universe has allowed this album to come at a time desperately needed by this Little Soul.

Thought of the Day:

What is lonelyness? How is it that we can be physically surrounded by others and still feel lonely? How is it that we can be loved, and supported by others and still feel lonely?

How is it, that a perfectly normal person, with an average loving family, can end up so empty and lost?

How is it that people find change to their distaste?

Ok, so that’s more than one thought of the day. But its something.

I am free to reinvent myself, change  myself, to be better.

I just need to actually to through with it. To have the strenght and consistancy needed to pull off change.