I really need to start believing in a god or something because I'm running out of things to distract myself with. I'm running out of things to save me.

And I die when you mention his name. And I lie, I shoulda kissed you when we were alone. What am I, darlin'? A whisper in your ear? A piece of your cake? What am I, darlin'? A boy you can fear, your biggest mistake? Cheers darlin', here's to you and your lover boy.

Looking in.

There's no one to talk to so I'm just going to talk to my blog.

You'll probably never read this. You'll probably never know that I'm still in love with you.
Even if you did read this, you would probably never know it was about you.
And it would kill me.
It was high school, I get it. We were young, we were trying to find ourselves, trying to be different...
It was scary, I get it. No one understood except for us.

But for me, it wasn't about the physical aspect. It wasn't seeing how good you could feel or how much you wanted me.
For me, it wasn't what everyone else saw. Us holding hands, us being different.
It wasn't about being made fun of.
It wasn't about what everyone else thought.
For me, for the first time and maybe one of the only times in my life, it was about the flowers that grew when we kissed. For me it was the electricity running through my body when you slipped your hand into mine. It was being able to hold you, to save you, to try as hard as I could to protect you from any harm, from anything you were afraid of.
It was holding you when you cried over everyone else. It was comforting you when no one else did.

And it's funny. Because you'll probably never read this. And you probably won't ever know how you really made me feel. I don't know, maybe I'm not still in love with you. But you were everything to me. Holding you in my arms was like holding all that ever mattered. When I was with you, everything disappeared. When I was with you, we were a secret, nobody had to know. It hurt, yeah... of course it hurt.
And you never understood. Maybe you never will.
You never listened when I wrote you a song.
You never thanked me when I gave you my all.
You never internalized my words when I told you I loved you.
I didn't mean it as a best friend.
I meant that I would die for you.

And you took that for granted.
You dated, kissed, loved others.
And told me about it.
And we meant nothing.
We meant nothing.

And it's funny.
Because you'll probably never read this.

I get it.

Alright?
I get it. I have allergies.
But I'm sick and tired of my allergies getting in the way of me being able to perform and try out for solos and shit like that
I'm sick of it.
EVERY SINGLE TIME I have something important come up, I lose my voice because the weather changed or some stupid shit.
I'm sick and tired of this.
I just want to sing and this continuously gets in the way of that.

On top of them, I'm stressed as ALL HELL trying to get all of my work done. Does it look like I'm getting it done anytime soon? No, it just continuously gets piled on top of me with no FUCKING mercy and my parents keep stressing me the hell out with everything THEY want to pile on top of me.
I just need a break.
I don't know how I'm going to get it, but I need a fucking break.

And I need my voice to come back.
I'm sick of this shit.

Allow me for a moment, to reminisce.
Allow me to think about all of the times an apology was necessary the times that apology never came.
Allow me to remember all of the kisses, the hugs, the three words, the apologies that weren't true.
Please allow me to remember the lies, the truths, the tears, the smiles.
I'm going to remember everything that's ever been said to me.
Every promise that has ever been broken.
Every promise that I kept.

Everything.
Just let me remember.
Just for a moment.

And so it begins...

I'm finally back at school.
I'm not yet readjusted, though... It seems like this is just a dream, that I'll wake up in my own bed back at home, surrounded by pink and orange walls, posters of bands I once loved, and stuffed animals from the various occasions throughout my life.
It feels like I'll wake up in my home, and I almost feel like that's what I want.
For some reason, growing up seems a lot closer this year than it did last year, growing up no longer seems like a possibility, it's a necessity. It's the only means of survival.
I have to teach, I have to learn, I have to live a life I've never truly considered.

I don't know what's next. I don't know how to get from college to my career.
And to be quite honest... I'm afraid.
I'm afraid of the people I'll meet, I'm afraid of the situations I'll encounter, I'm afraid to leave home and live on my own.
I just want things to stay the way they are... I want to wake up in my comfortable bed, even though it's a little bit too short for me.
I want to have all of my very easy chores at home, even though sometimes I'm reluctant to do them.
Sometimes it feels like I'm growing up too quickly.
I don't quite know where to go from here.
And it makes me want to go home.

Lol Jessi Slaughter

She's 11 years old.
She's ELEVEN YEARS OLD.

As a reaction, I saw this video:



She's ABSOLUTELY right.
1. Her parents didn't take her away from the computer after all of that.
2. This girl is ELEVEN years old.
There's so much more I have to say on this topic, but I can't put it into words other than:

WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?!!
ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE, RAISING YOUR YOUNG DAUGHTER THAT WAY?!
That is all.
There should be a parenting test or something... because kids these days aren't what they used to be.

That's including my generation.

One of those days...

...when you realize everything you are is an effect of everything that's happened.

Mariella

.

So I was in the shower thinking about names.
I was going to ask my sister if she knew someone named Joe in the high school.
And I realized I didn't know his last name.

I was very deeply thinking about this concept.
I was thinking about all of the names in the world.
I thought about every single name I know that more than five people in my high school had.

Now why in the world is it popular to name your child a name like Joe or John?
Aside from the actual meaning or how nice the name sounds or if someone else in your family has that name... doesn't it take away from the name and the meaning if a good percentage of the people in the country have the same name as you?

Take a name like Amanda for example.
If there are over five Amanda's that you go to school with, where is the individuality in the name itself?

I just think it would be nice to have a name that if anything, you share with only a handful of people rather than every other person you pass by on the street.
I'm not sure if I'm being biased because my name is unique, but I just think it's nice to have a name that no one else I've met has.

Figured I'd post something I thought was funny.

see more Funny Graphs

And you finally realize that you should have realized this such a long time ago.

Welcome to FredFest. Welcome to the weekend long party extravaganza at Fredonia State University. Welcome to the days that people decide to get drunk at 12pm instead of 8pm. And the only weekend of the year that the University Police decide to ignore drinking in public.
You think that maybe finals will calm everyone down. You think that maybe since it's Sunday, at 3:11 pm, you'll be able to get some work started, get some laundry done, get to talk to some important people in your life. Instead, the remnants of underage drinking and too much partying are evident everywhere. People are still drunk, people are still ignoring their college duties, and people are letting air horns go off, their music blast, and their voices carry across campus.
For fuck's sake, it's SUNDAY, people. It is a SUNDAY afternoon and I want to be able to sit and relax in my room.

The people I'm surrounded by.
People who care too much about being judged and people who care too much about what everyone else thinks.
I'm sick and tired of that shit. This is college. High school is where you were supposed to have found yourself, this is where you're supposed to realize that nothing in high school mattered and that your grades are the only thing you have going for you.
In the end, is blacking out all of the time going to get you a job? Of course not.
Is skipping class and starting drama going to get you anywhere substantial in life?
Never in my life have I been so pushed to such a feeling of disgust and disappointment for the people around me.

Maybe it's time to make a drastic change.

Hugs

I realized the reason that hugs are so nice.
The reason that when all else has failed you, a hug can do just fine.
I realized why hugs can solve issues that money or sex or a cigarette can't solve.
Because when we were little, we didn't solve our problems with money and sex and cigarettes.
When we were little, we wanted to be held when we were crying.
Rocked back and forth until the hic-hic-hiccuping slowed.
We wanted the warmth, the comfort, the safety of a simple embrace.
We wanted to lose ourselves, not in anything we needed to consume.
A bottle of warm milk didn't always do.
Instead we wanted a simple hug.
Just a hug.

I think hugs could save the world.

Year of the Black Rainbow review

Coheed and Cambria - Year of the Black Rainbow






Everybody who knows me, knows I'm in love with Coheed and Cambria.
Everybody who knows me, knows that this is the one album I've been waiting for since I found out it was being released in April.
Eventually, the album got leaked, and even though I will buy the album to support the band, I HAD to hear the music.
My good friend Aaron was talking about his favourite songs and I just couldn't hold it anymore.

I could no longer wait for April (13th?) to come along, I had to hear it.
I was doing a project, pulling an all nighter. Was I excited? Absolutely. Was I done with my work? No, but that's beside the point.

The first song, "One", is creepy. It's creepy and it gives me a weird feeling in my stomach. And I hadn't slept, and it was dark and I was alone. I wasn't quite sure how to handle everything that was going on when I first heard it. Since then, I haven't listened to it again because I know how it made me feel, but it was really good nonetheless, I can recall that much. The next song that had a really big impact on me was "Far." The intro to "Far" is simple, but it's really good for the album and the song itself. The echoes in the song are probably my favourite part. Usually, I'm not a fan of echoes, but they were well used.
For some reason, I saw "This Shattered Symphony" as something I'd really like to have sex to. It's not a sexual song, nor is it the best one on the album, so I'm not sure what was going on in my mind, but it doesn't change how I feel.
Moving on...
"Pearl of the Stars" is probably the song I find myself singing the most. Coheed often has one song on an album that's slow, a little dark, but romantic. This is that song:

When you go
I will know
Follow you to the stars
And when the world burns apart
There'll be a place for your heart
I'd give you everything
If only I'd known you'd take it
But you won't, cause you're you
That's why I'll always love you
My Pearl of the Stars

It reminds me of From Fear Through the Eyes of Madness with the song "Wake Up" where he sings:

I'll do anything for you,
Kill anyone for you.

So leave yourself intact
'Cause I will be coming back.
In a phrase to cut these lips,
I love you.

It obviously isn't as dark, but the death of other people is always somewhat sensitive. And it's something different when it's for love.

The last song is always the most important on a Coheed and Cambria album.
The Final Cut is an amazing song on From Fear Through the Eyes of Madness. It's the last song, and it's more about the feeling and the emotion than it is about the vocals or just one instrument. In another post, I'll show The Neverender Tour version of the Final Cut, where Claudio leaves the rest of the band to play alone after a while, and one by one, each band member leaves until the drummer is left, playing a solo on his own.

The song "Year of the Black Rainbow" can only be described as epic. There is one part of it that's very busy. Too busy, in fact, for me to listen to the song while I'm trying to do homework or read, but it's an amazing piece. There are more lyrics than there was in "The Final Cut" but eventually, as the album nears the end, the instruments begin to drown out the vocals.

All in all, it was an amazing album, and without TOO much bias, I recommend it to people who can appreciate Coheed and Cambria.

[= Thank you.

No One Runs Faster Than You Eat

I've been on a Coheed and Cambria overload, lately. Not only the new album, either. Today, I'm listening to a lot of Willing Well. And the past few days, even in the shower, I was listening to the Year of the Black Rainbow.
I don't know what it is about them lately that's made me want to drown myself in their music twenty four hours a day.
I wake up to their music in my head, they're the last thing I listen to before I go to sleep.
Sometimes a band, for whatever reason, just really hits you.
And I mean REALLY hits you.
Lately, Coheed has just been giving me some really intense chills.
Making me feel really weird.
Good weird.
But weird.

Today's a good day.

I lost sight of my healthy eating and working out.
Last night I got sick of my constant loss of motivation for anything I promise myself I'll put my mind to.
I've eaten pretty healthily today.
I have to do this.
My mom's lost 9 pounds.
I have to do this.

Innocence and Hope

He says that I'm not innocent anymore.
He says I seem jaded.

What is he referring to? The times where I put him on a pedastal? The times where I thought he was the best thing to ever happen to me?
I'm no longer that person.
I'm sick of being the emotional wreck I used to be.
I have a future to plan out.

Performances and Wislawa Szymborska

http://www.panhala.net/Archive/The_End_and_the_Beginning.html

I have to write a chord progression to accompany a performance that my group is performing on Friday.
I'm excited about the performance itself, but what am I dreading?
The same girl that gave me a hard time is a judge for this project.
I'm not exactly sure why she's a judge, she shouldn't have been given a chance to judge since she gives everyone such a hard time in class.
Aside from all of this, my group has yet to meet other than four of us last night.
We have practicing to do.
Practicing, talking, planning, deciding.
Friday's going to be a long day, I can feel it.

NoOneCalledHerOut

The political system.
The political system and romance.
Romance and the political system.

Ode to an Artichoke. (http://www.motherbird.com/artichoke.html)
Ode to my Socks. (http://www.forks.wednet.edu/FHSMAIN/LangArts/sanchez/Ode%20to%20My%20Socks.htm)

I raise my hand.
I'm wondering if even Pablo Neruda's romance sonnets should be viewed as political as well. Considering he said politics and his poetry are one.

A classmate raises her hand after my teacher tells me I can read however I want and that I should just be aware of his political standings. It was a good answer for me. I accepted that answer.
This classmate. This woman who is not my teacher, tells me that I should LEARN how to read poetry as it is intended, since I'm an English major. Never did I say that I couldn't read. Never was it implied that I was unable to read or comprehend poetry.

I had previously said that reading the poetry of Rumi moved me. His romantic way of speaking, the words he used, etc. I found out most of his poems were allegories about the love between a man and God.
This is where I wasn't so moved.
So I didn't want to be disappointed again. I didn't want to fall in love with what I interpreted is poetry to be. I understand poetry can always be left for interpretation. But if I'm thinking love, and he's talking politics, we're on two completely different pages.

Now, let us take a step back for a moment.
I don't usually mind being corrected.
I mind being corrected when someone like her tries to tell me how I do things, and how I should change.
She didn't comprehend what I asked, and she was talking to me about comprehension?
Not really my thing.

I know how to read.
I know how to read poetry.
I know how to read poetry without inserting my opinion in every which way.

What I wanted to know was if he had an intended direction.
I wanted some insight into the mind of Pablo Neruda.
If he was open to interpretation, so be it.
But if he wasn't, what was it he wanted?

Now take a step back.
Calm down.
You have too much going on right now.

Alright I'm done.

Update on the last post.

My mom lost two inches around her waist in two weeks by eating 25-30 grams of fiber a day.
I'm on that bandwagon.
That plus working out?
I'm going to lose what I want to lose in no time.

Sometimes you realize it's just time to change.

I've been overweight for pretty much all of my life.
It's time to make a change.
I keep saying that. I keep saying that I need to lose weight. But this is when it starts. It starts right now.
I have to stop procrastinating, stop making excuses, stop being lazy, and take steps towards making a difference.
6 30 every night I will go to the gym. Precisely 6 30. If I'm already out, I will be dressed and ready to go to the gym.
Only on Mondays do I have something to do.
By the time the two months of school is over, I will be at a weight I want to be at.
No longer will I be self-conscious.
I am happy with where I am. But it's time to make a difference.

Life is Delicate

Someone close to me tried to end her life a couple of days ago.
I didn't know how to react when I was told.
My best friend called me hysterical and I didn't know what to say to her, when she hung up, I started shaking and wasn't able to stand up for too long.
I'm 8 hours away from home. 8 hours away from home and there was nothing I could do to help.
She was in the hospital, and a few days before she had told me she loved me.
On all of her daughters' walls, she wrote that she loved them.
This is a bit of a bland way to write about this, I know, but I've almost become numb. At the beginning, I let out so much emotion, I feel like I don't have any left in me. I don't have any tears left, any energy.
I can only imagine how her family feels.

She drank. She drank a lot. So much that people usually don't live at all when they drink that much, or at least don't live without severe brain damage.
It's almost a slap in the face, telling me to wake up. Realize how lucky I am to be alive.
This made me realize that I have to appreciate everything.
I don't really like to share things that are so close to me, but I want to be able to remember this everyday of my life. I want to remember how horrible I felt and how nothing is more important that appreciating the things I take for granted.

My best friend is one of her daughters. She is staying so strong, when I talk to her, her voice doesn't quiver, she doesn't sigh or break down. She's so strong, and as I always admire her, I admire her even more right now.

Life is too delicate. It scares me sometimes to remember everything I used to go through with depression, it scares me knowing that her mom is unable to stop this, it's clinical depression... I don't know what else to say.

It's a beautiful day out today.
And I have the windows open as I'm studying and doing my homework, taking deep breaths of the fresh air that some people are no longer able to appreciate. Listening to the sounds of people who are oblivious to the world around them, oblivious as to how lucky they truly are.

Fin.

Writing the Rumi Anthology - Poetry Journal

I completely threw away what I had and am now re-writing everything.
The one before this was done in a short amount of time, and I want more time to think it over.
What I have now is a little better so far, it's just difficult choosing poetry and such.
One of my classmates came over yesterday to ask me for help, I was REALLY able to help her, a lot more than I would have been able to help myself. I'm doing the anthology kind of backwards, though. I wrote my poem first, and NOW I'm picking the theme and the poems. I doubt it's going to work out as well as I'd like it to, but that's alright.

My theme requires poems that probably don't hit me as hard as some of Rumi's other poetry. I'll see how it goes.

Drunk words are sober thoughts.

I hate you. For everything you've done to me, I hate you.
For everything I am, I hate you.
I blame you for it all.
I am empty and I am alone because of you.
No matter what happens to me, I will always be alone without you.

I've been having some intense writer's block lately.
I've no idea what to post about, and it's beginning to drive me crazy.
I was on Facebook last night and commented on someone's status that I would give them birthday sex.
This someone is a close friend of mine.
Apparently I have to watch what I say now, because his girlfriend didn't like that.
I don't know his girlfriend well, I met her once, but I don't think it's alright for her to be upset about what I say to him. If I'm one of his close friends, I can say whatever I want, considering I was there for him when no one else was, I think I deserve to have that kind of friendship with him.
I'm not complaining for any reason other than the fact that friendships should come before relationships. I shouldn't have to censor myself because someone's girlfriend is too insecure about her relationship to realize that I'm not going to travel across the country to give my friend birthday sex.
I understand that sometimes a relationship is bumpy, I get that. But it's not my fault that you can't tame your girlfriend. It's not my fault that she's "unhappy" with my sense of humour.
You've been one of my best friends. As soon as you met her, you distanced yourself and now I'm forced to change our friendship and how comfortable we are with each other.
Great.
Bitch.
Go to hell.

Rumi - World Poetry Blog Journal Entry 1

It's funny when you sit in front of a computer with three other students, watching a documentary.
Only to realize you're the only one interested.
You're the only one whose eyes aren't wandering. The only one who's not playing a game of tic-tac-toe or texting your best friend that you'll be "out of here soon."
You're not moaning.
You're not rolling your eyes.
You're not bored at all.

It's a long documentary for someone who has funner things to do, but it's almost entrancing.

The love that the translators had for Rumi's work is a beauty in itself. I've yet to begin reading, I've yet to begin reading the text, but I'm so excited.
I'm excited to begin the journey that is the power of love.
No longer will I be reading of the power of religion or God.
Instead, I will be reading the love for love itself.

There was a poem, though, that we read in World Poetry
And it explained the love for God.
As much as I appreciated it, it made me wish I loved God just the same, so that I could fully appreciate it.
I'll try to find that later.

Smoking and peer pressure.

February 22nd, 2010

Only a few times has anyone told me to smoke or offered me a cigarette.
Never have I been pressured into smoking and never has smoking seemed glorified in my eyes.
It was always something people did that had to be hidden.
Now I'm in college and SURPRISE, everyone smokes something.
Pot, Cigarettes, Hookah, etc.
Why? Most people tell me it's because it's the cool thing to do, they gave into peer pressure, or everyone else did it.
But college students don't have the money to be that cool, why do we really smoke? ("We" being college students, not necessarily you or me.)

Why do people smoke at all?
Smoking is bad. It may relieve stress, but so do other things, things that don't cause cancer.
Running relieves stress, and it's really good for people, Why don't we run?
Not everyone's a good runner, but smoking doesn't make it better.

Onto the point of this, because I'm not trying to argue.
Lately, I've been feeling pressured to smoke because so many people around me smoke, even if they don't say anything.
I'm not going to give in to peer pressure, because there are more negative effects of smoking than positive, but I was just wondering why this is in anyway something I would consider.
Why do people decide to smoke after knowing all of the bad consequences that are to follow?

Love, and it's definition.

21st of February

People shouldn't be able to tell you what love is.
The same way they shouldn't be able to tell you what sex is.
Or the same way they shouldn't be able to tell you what marriage is.

Words like this, situations such as these cannot be defined in a dictionary, or by one person.
People that think they can tell me what love is, or what sex or marriage is, are narrow-minded, and unable to conceive the fact that their definition is different from every other person's.

Whether or not love exists doesn't matter, what matters is that I believe in it.
If love is a "drug," then let me fall under it's influence when the time comes.
If I'm under the influence of that drug for the rest of my life, then I'll never know it hit me, and I'll never know that it "doesn't exist."

Just because intercourse is sex between a man and a woman doesn't mean that women are unable to have sex. It means that maybe the word "sex" is redefined for two women. Or two men.

A word is a word. But a definition can change.
Nobody can tell me that I'm wrong.
Nobody can ever tell me that I'm wrong concerning definitions such as these.
Thanks though, for trying to correct me.

First Blog away from Xanga.

I'm keeping Xanga for my depressing past.
I'm keeping this to be a little more grown up.
I'm going to move my blogs that are more up to speed with what I want to do here.
And then I won't feel so embarrassed showing my blog to people.
My Xanga was pretty embarrassing.