Painful Friendships

Its an unusual habit to carry. I've just realized this trend of mine...
I destroy friendships?
Or maybe its not me. I don't know. Correlation confused with causation?
I feel so hurt. I try so hard. I want to say its unfair, but everyone has their own issues that they can't express. Just because I want an answer now, doesn't mean they're ready to give it.
Still, it seems crazy to me. Most people have a string of broken relationships. But broken friendships? That seems unusual.
I have only ever had three relationships, only one of them was official. And for someone that's almost eighteen and not a recluse, that seems small. The time period of those three only add up to about a year. It just seems weird that I have a harder time with friends.
One friend wants me to chill out and basically keep my thoughts to myself so we can just enjoy our time together.
The other is literally demanding I speak my mind verily all the time, as though I'm lying to her if I stall before I give an answer. Can't she understand the fear? She doesn't get how afraid of her I am.
I am afraid of her.
I am afraid of her.
I am AFRAID of her?
It is all so clear now.
This is not who I am.
I am not someone to fear people.
Understand, empathize, defend, excuse wrongs for whatever reasons...
But halting fear? No, no no no no.
Something has got to give.

Christ is risen!

It is the time for new beginnings. Death is dead, sin is dead. We are all alive in Christ, we are all made new this day. Whatever happened yesterday doesn't matter, because Christ has redeemed us all. Praise God! Holy Spirit, come and change me today, I want to feel the true joy and passion that is Easter. Hallelujah! Amen.

Beautiful Spring

Everything is at its loveliest, and it is seeping into my mood.

Nevermind that I feel starved of friends and conversation, there's plenty to look forward to and enjoy in the meantime.

I spent all weekend picking out flowers, gardening, taking care of the new white geranium sitting in my room! And it hit me how much I want to just have a house and take care of it. How I'd love to pour my heart into my home, invite people over to enjoy it with me. It would be so fun and relaxing and rewarding. :)

I'm very excited because everyone is buzzing about prom! Everything is coming beautifully together. I will be going with my amazing best friend who is also an amazing dancer, I have a gorgeous dress, I will be riding in a limo and going to a beach house with a bunch of people I barely know, and everything will be fantastical.

I can't wait :)

Communicating

I love people who are totally true.
Real, completely themselves.
Those people can communicate without even trying.
Whereas most of us can't do half as well with all our facilities at work.

Is that what we do, on Blogger?
Experience people with the pressures of life removed? Meet each other as unjudging new friends?

I guess that is my experiment. To find my own voice, away from the fear of making a mistake or saying too much.

Have you found your voice?

Pointing the Finger

So you're ready to tell me that I know nothing.

But you're not ready to start your life.

You're ready to spit in my face.

But you're not ready to tell him you're sorry.

You're ready to write me a letter, my newly released deer

But you're not ready to use your voice.

You're ready to move on

But you're not ready to apologize, and mean it

You're ready to turn your back

But you're not ready to tell me about it

You're ready to lose me completely

But you're not ready to think about it

You're ready to turn the page

But you can't remember what you left behind

You're ready to think of me as nothing at all

But you're not ready to say goodbye

You're ready to tell me the tension is killing you

But you're so suicidal you can't draw close to alleviate it all

You're ready to throw your life away

But you're not ready to know what is out there

You're ready to say whatever you want to say

But you'll never be ready to see what it will cost you

You're ready to tell me who I am

But you aren't ready to know the truth

You're ready to hold me and forget everything

And I so so want you to.

Dear Imaginary Reader

Dear Imaginary Reader,

Today I would have great things to talk about. I am quite under the influence of my good old friend Jack, a friend Genevieve finds deplorably smelly and unfortunately strong. But he is a good friend to me, so I don't care what She Thinks. No, Genevieve, he is not a better friend than you. But he serves his purposes, as do you. Which tonight, it so happens, was an accidental exploration of the musical pursuits that are soo soo far beyond us. How comes it that two classically trained mademoiselles of the twenty first century would mess around with bass-jump honky tonk and blues in its rawest and boogie woogie form? It was really really fun, compared to the shit I do in choir every day. And, I'm sorry to say, Mr. Brownlee, my dearest and sweetest old friend slash piano teacher, much more fun than anything you have taught me. I take pride in the fact that blues is my rebellion, and much less wholesome to me than my friends who have been tainted by the poison that is today's most popular music. So, Imaginary Reader, if you are out there, let me tell you that music is the greatest thing that God ever let us happen upon. If you don't believe me or feel what I am feeling is true, that is your mission for today, this week, this year, whatever measurement of time is most suited to you, whether based on convenience or true potential for depth and digging. Be an archaeologist, if you must, in order to dig into what is there and has been forever. Ask the people around you, they may have found what you have not. The magic that is music. The wonder that every man is capable of. Experience the history. The daring. The tension and surprise that is music. I believe in you. Be a musical pirate, because that is the only way I have learned anything. Both literally and figuratively, that is. Please don't turn me in for pirating music. I'd keep your secret, if you had one, Imaginary Reader, Imaginary Friend. I hope that you are a fan of Louis Armstrong and Norah Ephron, like I am. Have a good night. I love you, Dear Imaginary Reader...

Eric and Fire

Log of undetermined age, supporting me this night
Colors of coal and white hot ash
Timber and sweat and flint in trembling hands
I've cried over this fire, that it may flourish
I loved its warmth and felt the light caressing my face
And basked in the glory that came, with only a little encouragement
He was so proud and smug in my attentions, boasting of my beauty in his hues
Alas, morning came. And I needed the warmth no more.
The smoldering fire became drifting ember and the pit was not as before.
The sun shone upon me and I squinted towards it
Seeing the world revealed in its rays
The day called on me, beckoned me onward
But I looked back at the ash, and missed the privacy of that night
The softness and quietness with my fire.
Our world was gone in a blink of the earth
I wept for our love as he disappeared
A wave of the blue flame bye

Spring Break

Good morning and Happy Spring Break!

I have in front of me the Texas State University Housing Preferences online form.
Its almost fun. Stand in front of the menu at your local coffee bar, determine the identity of your next latte. This is a reflection on yourself, so choose wisely.
I guess its the same with student resident life. You will be identified with the hall you call home.
Then I get to thinking. Wow, I'm going to call some building with tiny rooms and a community bathroom home. I have two instincts, to groan and to cheer. Cheering to get away from home. Groaning because, come on, that's not really a home.
It will be nice to control more of what I do during the day. If I'm annoyed with my roommate, I can leave the room. If I'm tired of a few people, I walk away. There's always somewhere else to go or someone else with whom to talk. It sounds easier than high school, where I'm only allowed to be in one room per hour, or home, when I can't very well just walk out of the house whenever I please.
Now, when I start to feel steam coming out of my ears, I silently repeat my mantra to myself. "Five months. And I'll be gone. Five months. And I'll be gone."
Its frustrating, now in my bored state, to enjoy life as it is, treasure the last moments, or even to let loose. I just don't want to do anything, but leave.
But, the sun is out. The sky is blue. Its beautiful. And so are you.

Five months. And I'll be gone.

Have a good day :)

Its starting to set in...

I can be pretty moody. I'm emotional, I have mood swings frequently. But its starting to set in that this spell isn't going away. It seems that I just keep going along in this funk of being without excitement or intrigue. Its exceptionally lonely, which is a lonely word in and of itself. I feel like the closest friend I have right now is my sister. I just keep big eyes open to the occurrences of the day, occurrences that happen around me, but seem to have nothing to do with me. I apologize for talking about myself so much. I apologize for being so self-centered and arrogant of others. I wish there was a magical way to make it go away, to snap myself out of it, to become a part of the real world again. But it seems that Saturn has called me to be among his numbers. Children of Saturn are predisposed to melancholy, as well as wisdom and self-inflicted isolation. God, the more I talk, the more of an egotist I sound. Thomas Moore said, in Care of the Soul, that Saturnine moods deserve the individual's respect. Depression, when contemplated and thoughtfully allowed, has gifts of its own to bring to the soul. It fosters wisdom, maturity, substantiation of the personality. In these words, living, however sad, sounds beautiful and poetic and idealistic. But in reality, I have been taught since birth that I am in charge of myself, the best plan is the most aggressive plan. Care of the soul is about listening, respect, care and attention. There's no methodology. So then I'm left with listening to my own depressive thoughts, contemplating empty dreams, and allowing the bitterness to emerge. Bitterness, coldness, isolation. Its as blunt and lonely as an empty store. Once a haven of bustling joys and lively agendas, its nothing but a vat of dry memories and stale air circulating.







More on Saturn's tendencies...
http://avalon100.tripod.com/Saturn.html

truly mundane

Right now, its just me. I kind of like it, but mostly, it sucks. I want to be with a large group of great friends. But due to some recent scourging, I don't have very many friends anymore. Not people I can rely on, anyhow. People I can talk to at school, sure. But no one I can call. Thank God for texting, right? So then I can talk to someone with a totally casual (invisible) face, without revealing the God's honest truth: I need you so much right now. How awfully lonely. I feel like my day is Lost in Translation on loop. They see me and hear me, but don't know or understand me.
Furthermore, I'm sorry to all the people I text when I need to desperately. I rarely talk to those people, I feel fine without them most of the time, I have little to say, or I just don't care. What if they need me desperately all the time? And I just use them when I need them. Ugh, its so awful. All of it.
If only there was a balanced economy of relationships. A perfect competition of dependency and independency. I need you, you need me, you need space, I need sun. Wouldn't it be nicer? Simpler, at least.
And if we all spoke the same language- pure feelings or logic, badinage lost to the tides of time. We could speak to each other, to the heart of the matter, letting nothing stand in the way of perfect communication and, thus, understanding. It would be worth it, I think. Art would be lost, beautiful expression lost. But almost worth it, just to really speak to one another.

I'm tired of expressing myself. I just want someone to talk to.

Polarity of Emotion

I miss you all the time.

I'm drunk.

I had fun today, even though the show was frightening and awful.

i want to be better.

I want to be in love.

I'm sorry.

I want to just get married and have babies.

I want to go to college.

I don't know what I want.

I love music so much.

I just want to be with you. Without being with you. Is that possible?

I love just being around you and absorbing you. Sometimes I can't, or I just don't want to. But right now I do want you. I'm sorry I've been so horrible. But you would never say that. You just take it. I'm so so sorry.

I want to know what it did to you. i want to know how you're doing.

i wish I had a looking glass into your life, I wish I could see without being seen. I just want to know.

Sometimes I look at you and think, God, he really is handsome.

Sometimes I look at you and think, thank God I got out of that one. I could never handle this long-term.

What is wrong with me?

After the Show

Alone after the show. Its nice staring into a beautiful face making beautiful noises with beautiful expressions and a crowd that cares less than you. You know why you're there, you're special, you have a reason. Those moments are magical, and you know it.
But you're still alone after the show.
You say things, and you think people will care. You think someone listens and cherishes and maybe once thinks that you are art. But who will? Maybe someone does, but they are no one. They aren't what you thought they were, their meaning to you lost in the rest of you. Am I the only person that thinks that no one is never enough for them, most especially myself?
Its hard to believe in things that fade and die. Love is a blossom, young and beautiful, with the depth of color that is more than you can say. But it always, always, dies in winter. And then another blossom, sometime. Do I have to have a new blossom every spring? Can't I keep one, just once? No. Because that's not the way it works.
Music. That's a love I can have any way I want. Music is totally renewable, it never runs out on you. It never stops giving or being. If you don't like it, you find different music. You have one magical night together, and never meet again. Or you can dedicate yourself to it every day for your whole life, and it will change you and change for you and be the perfect relationship you never had.
Unfortunately, though. It will never be your companion. You're still alone after the show.

When I'm Angry

I actually do say things I mean. That's pretty bad.
I am so intolerant of... everything.
I can be ugly and vain and harsh.
Unabashedly so.

Until I hate myself.
Not that I really wanted to bite my tongue. Speaking your mind is a means to an end.
But that I hurt people. Every time.

I just give it all, I guess.
I always do. All my good, all my bad.
If you're close, that's what you get.
You get it all.

The luckiest friends of mine are those that are far away.
They get the phone calls filled with rationality and wisdom, charm and wit overflowing.
The great vat of understanding and beautiful things to share.
I feel sorry for the ones I need the most, because they get it all.
There's just too much of me.
Don't feel bad, though.
I can't handle it, either.
Myself, that is.

Eric

"Hey- you're watching me type this right now." I felt very clever . My first heart pounding moment associated with Eric was a few hours later, a response in my inbox, "Hey. You're not watching me type this right now. How mysterious of me." And just like that, we became very very You've Got Mail. His emails were the highlights of my days. For many days.
It took a very long time to break down his walls. But once I did, it was so worth it. He was the breath of fresh air you've never had. His romance is that which made me squirm and blush. I couldn't figure out if we could really handle each other, but I guess that once made everything exciting. We're both very intense in different ways.
I think he fell in love with me.
But he has shown me so much. Allen Ginsberg and My Bloody Valentine and how I had forgotten how much I love meditating. I have dreams, and I tell them to him.
But now we have turned back time, before hanging out or warm hand in cold hand. I keep forgetting to give Ragged Point Road back to him.
Sometimes, you just run out. Of interest, I guess. Its horrible. Depressing. But its life.