[7-18-05]: I think what I think and sometimes I can't help what I feel, so I have to feel what I feel. Certain people rankle with me, rub my fur the wrong way... or they would if I had fur. Some are fictional characters, some are real people, some are shadows (i.e. mine). But really, asking my opinion and then going around and telling me that my OPINION... my personal thoughts, my perceptions that are neither right nor incorrect... are wrong. Man that gets on my nerves.
Fiveish days until band camp!
--that's from yesterday, note the note at the top.
It just so happens that between the rich pretty boy who has it all and the tortured artist, I'd pick the tortured artist. And that's the way I am, not me trying to be cryptic or misunderstood.
Hm. I've been alienated from the male bit of the human race for awhile. He (who shall remain unnamed) has changed so much that I'm estranged from male affection, at least for the time being.
www.livejourna
An old poem, started months ago, finished two days ago. Comments appreciated. *NICE ONES, CONSTRUCTIVE ONES, otherwise I'll poke you.*
The way you looked today,
Eyes of purest blue to accent the barest sprinkling of freckles
Skin like snow, soft and smooth
But warm
Inviting
The look in your eyes
Those eyes of sapphire.
I caught it
For once, I caught a glance that you sent me
I hold it tight to my chest
The way you sound
How you make the air twirl
It does your every bidding because it saw your eyes
It felt your hands as you caressed the living metal
You created the music
Your music
The movement
Fluid but sure
Deliberate and always premeditated
For some reason, never despondent
When I am around
I want you to trust me enough to show me your despondent side
The small talk you make
You communicate with your eyes quite often
Those eyes like azure Alaskan skies
Eyes that meet mine when we talk
When neither of us is too shy to look at the other’s soul
Your soul takes the will to be out of mine
The steps you take
Walking, stately yet meek
The way we carry on, we might as well be strangers
But when you walk or look or make music or move or talk
I just cannot help myself
I don’t comprehend, sometimes
The way you make me feel
Like I would change myself for you,
Like I would do anything just to have you;
To have you, to hold you, to have those jewel-laden eyes for my own
To look into, to admire, to wonder at
The craft and care that went into your creation
The way you laugh
How your eyes are merry all the time
The kind of look I’d expect in a kind person
But you are a mischievous elf
Waiting to cause mayhem
But hopefully not for me
I love how you show off, driving with no hands on the wheel
Tackling difficult melodies and complex rhythms
Yet when spoken to, you are modest, gentle, reserved
And I’ve yet to see that despondent side.
I realized recently that I want more than anything to touch you
To touch your hair
Hair the poetic shade of Dawn’s first light
Gold like so many Spanish coins
Living gold, like the tools you use to make your music
Hair is music
Music is gold
Gold is God
God is you.
I would like to place my hand on your chest and feel your heartbeat.
Your eyes, your lightly freckled skin.
Your eyes, your glance.
Your eyes, your music.
Your eyes, your movement, your lack of despondency.
Your eyes, your small talk, your soul.
Your eyes, your walk.
Your eyes.
Your eyes, your creation.
Your eyes, your laughter, your mischief.
Your eyes, your ego, your hair.
Your eyes, your heartbeat.
There are days when I don’t think I can live without that heartbeat.
---man, I'm glad I'm over him... I'd be so hopeless!---
Spamalot is such great fun to listen to. If you like comedy (esp. Monty Python) or theater at all... just listen to the soundtrack. It was like the best musical at the Tonys... total surprise. But go for it, seriously, it's hilarious.
Filarious, even.
Logan is spooky. Like, *waves arms around* whoa.
NEW BASS TABS:
Jimi Hendrix - Manic Depression
Sum 41 - Over My Head
the Barenaked Ladies - Brian Wilson
Be My Yoko Ono
What A Good Boy
Broken Vow was awesome (again) last night... I have a minute of Mike's guitar solo recorded on my cell. Wish I could play up the neck of my guitar. OH! and Bret's band was rather good also; who knew Bergeson could scream? And that little short dark-skinned guitar player dude was freaking schway, a better screamer and a better guitarist than Bret, but hey. Falfas cancelled... second time they've done that at the last minute that I know of. Someone should tell them that, in the real world, you can't do that. Won't be me, though. It's probably a good thing they didn't show... the other two bands would've eaten them alive.
.>
Alex bit me.
As the planes climbed high into the night
To light the sacrificial rite
I saw Satan laughing with delight
The Day the music died.
6-7-05 Happy birthday Mum!
www.freewebs.c
http://sebhars
www.matmice.co
www.xanga.com/
http://sebhar.
WELL! I'm posting in my house! Well anyway... Check out some of my other blog sites or whatever. I've just realized that there is NOTHING ABOUT MY BASS on here. I play a black Fender Squier named Cynarra, and she's beautiful. I'll take a picture of her sometime and post it here... she really is the prettiest thing you've ever seen. I can play NOFX's "Franco Un-American" and "Ghetto Defendant" by the Clash, plus loads of Queen and almost the entire A Rush of Blood to the Head album by Coldplay.
I'm way excited about Coldplay's new album. Excited... like a fish!
**************
There, an auld bit of reading for you. *chomp*
Band camp - I'm going to Canada, it's pretty much certain because Molly's dad is letting her go, I've got a ride up and I've got the forms and I'm free those days. But I also want to go to Wartburg with Lexa and Dan... and I sent for the information and even got an initialed thing from the director @ WB so I don't have to pay a late fee :O. I really want to go to both, but if it comes down to it I will definitely pick Canada... but if I don't go to Wartburg and I emailed Dr. Hancock and he's letting me be exempt from late fees, it'll look like... well, I'll feel rude. I have no idea what to do.
I... I don't want to fall in love. I really don't. I've tried not to... but I think I have. I can't entirely blame him, I realize, but hanging out with him more (and kissing him O.o)... I dunno, I really might be lost.
I'm also confused about when to schedule a get-together of the auld BSI gang, or part of them, sometime in August. It looks like there is no time that EVERYBODY can come... Mike'll be on vacation the first weekend in August, I'll be vacationing second weekend, and from then on school'll be coming 'round again :S Blargenflargle
[Hiddenzbu], I'm writing a poem that you inspired, and it may develop into a full-fledged rant in one of my blogs someday. It's about how if people listened more, the world would be a better place. I decided this, the rest of you reading this, while I was on the phone with aforementioned Zach while I was REALLY depressed... and when I got off the phone with him I felt all better. Really. And for those few of you who have talked to Zach on the phone before, you know he does very little but listen :)
Yarr. I just decided that that smiley in the above paragraph looks far too happy. What has he been doing?!
I hate hypocrites.
Grace, you should have your party with Carrie, and not with Tyler, and that's all there is to it. Tyler forgot BB in a hurry, didn't he? And he'll probably do the same to you. He did it last summer, when you were still around, remember? Or maybe you don't. But you're hurting Carrie and it's your last summer here. You should spend it with your real friends, the ones who you've been friends with for a LONG time and don't abandon you for the slutty preppy chicks come school. Wow, that was a lot more than I intended to write on THAT subject :S
New tabs: Hell Yes - Beck
E-Pro - Beck
Never is Enough - Barenaked Ladies
More updates on various blogs, see house.
Cheers.
Yahheheeheehoo
Clowns in hockey masks visit my nightmares, dragging me into their circus of darkness...
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Someone plopped a steamer in the gene pool... there's no hope for democracy when ignorance is celebrated.
- NOFX
People change. Myself, in particular. Or maybe I didn't change; maybe I just realized something about myself.
God, I love Pink Floyd. Comfortably Numb is really one of the greatest songs ever written.
You, sir, are only coming through in waves.
- Me, to my dad.
Wow. First Sam calls me a hypocrite for being a liberal. (Note to self... I'm not a bisexual conservative..
"I've heard the truth, Mulder, now what I want are the answers."
- the X-Files
"You call that love? You loved her so much that she had to kill herself to get away from you!"
- Sliders
Gods, but I love Sci-Fi.
My brain is overtaken, soaked in nostalgia like an overused, overwrung sponge. Hell, I don't know what to think. I wanted you last night, but I'm not sure if it was one of those tomes where I merely wanted what I couldn't have. Jealousy sucks. My upper torso aches, with stretched cartilage and broken heart.
There is another that I wish to speak with, about how tings will be in the future for us. I like him; I like him a lot, yet again I wonder if it is because I cannot have him. That's why I ask you, Nathan... you know me better than I know myself (or so it seems).
I want what I fear; I crave what I cannot have. Why must I do these things to myself?
The scar, now, is naught but a whilte line on my forearm, a simple but painful reminder of a past reality. I feel that, should I go back far enough into that past, I will find a brighter place, a place where my heart is in one piece. A place where I can love without hurting.
Maybe the scars are the only way back. Maybe that's what I'm afraid of...
Well.. stuff is cool.... I think.
I've got a Yahoo! email and a hi5 account now. Go me.
Well, Tom Chaplin abso-bally-lut
“Is this the place we used to love? Is this the place that I’ve been dreaming of?”
We had our theatre workshop today for the spring play… and Caleb Shultz kicks my butt, as well. Another bit of unfairness. You know what makes him so infinitely schway? He’s a dude that uses the word magenta. And no, he’s not freaky-odd… he works in stage lighting. Otherwise he’d probably just call it pink like all the normal guys. He’d be weirdly attractive… If my body was performing that sort of function (which it currently is not). Sadly, although he is schway and single, he happens to be something like 22-ish… bit out’n me league.
“This is the last time that I will show my face. One last tender lie and then I’m out of this place…”
We worked a lot on the stage today… we straightened out all the strange props and swept out the upper level and catwalk. Me’n Jessica were playing with the lekos… oops… heehee. Oh well. We’ve got some seriously crappy lighting up there… Caleb was complaining about it, and it was hilarious…”Our lighting system absolutely sucks… this light board, like, ten of the circuits don’t even work… but hey, at least it’s impossible to blow out the whole system when everything’s broken. You see this? We’ve got about three useless outlets for every single working one…”
“If only I don’t bend and break, I’ll meet you on the other side, I’ll meet you in the light, if only I don’t suffocate…”
We discovered a bunch of backdrops from previous plays… and a bunch of grass skirts and some plastic tiki men that we think were used for a show choir performance or something, years and years ago. There’s an old wheelchair and about 9 sets of stairs… and tons and tons of random bits of wood, fake stained-glass windows, orange plumes, refrigerator doors… not to mention TONS of graffiti. Some of it is actually rather interesting… but my name is the only name up there written in aqua permanent marker. How schway…
“I don’t know your thoughts these days. We’re strangers in an empty space. I don’t understand your heart. It’s easier to be apart…”
Can you picture me in an hour-long makeup class? No, I can’t either… naturally, I wasn’t looking at myself. But I did attend… and I was nearly bored to tears. They were talking about all these things, and I didn’t know what they were… or what they were used for. But it was my mum’s friend teaching the class, and she’s nice enough… maybe I’ll take a look at some of those books she mentioned, just so I’m not completely clueless. I mean, who knew mascara was for eyelashes? And who knew you shouldn’t keep it for more then three months? Not me, that one thing is for sure.
You’re aching, you’re breaking, and I can see the pain in your eyes says everybody’s changing and I don’t know why…
I finally saw Rocky Horror Picture Show last night. Tim Curry absolutely kicked butt in that movie. The movie itself was stupid, yet funny… “Dammit, Janet…” heehee… and Frank’s whole “OH ROCKY!” schtick. Rather good… but also much fun when you read the Audience Participation Script (buwahahahaha). Truth to tell, some of they lyrics to some of the songs are rather good (just not Janet’s little “I wanna feel dirty” song with Rocky). I think we (my friends who go to this school and I) should learn the Time Warp in its entirety and perform it at the next school dance, after “Sweetheart”.
Your eyes open and you know that it’s a lonely place that you have run to. Morning comes and you don’t want to know me anymore. It’s a lonely end that you will come to…
My sister had a basketball tournament today. She did rather well, even made a free throw (a skill far beyond my comprehension). She scored rather a few baskets, and I’m proud of her… ish. But I didn’t get to see it live. We’ve a digital camcorder… lucky us, eh? I wonder if I would be able to somehow configure it to double as a webcam… we shall see. Scissors are the most schway of all levers ever invented… except that one in Yellow Submarine where Ringo pulls that “leever” and turns Frankenstein’s monster into John Lennon.
Lonely people tumble downwards and my heart opens up to you when she says she has no time for you now…
My parents are evil. As I type this, they won’t let me get online to check my e-mail (I type my diaries offline). Dratted ebil ones… humph! They’ll get theirs. Steal one of the few joys left in my life, will they?
I can’t stop now. I’ve got troubles of my own because I’m short on time. I’m lonely and I’m too tired to talk…
Striped socks, blue jeans adorned with safety pins, a Pink Floyd “Dark Side of the Moon” 1973 Tour t-shirt (obviously not vintage) under a grey Iowa Cross Country sweatshirt, also adorned with a safety pin and some spilled paint, in addition to my Pink Floyd “Dark Side of the Moon” hat, adorned with safety pin. I lurve how I dress.
Can anybody find their home? Out of everyone, can anybody find their home?
I think I’ve broken, now. Despite all the letters, despite the phone calls and the visits, the walks down the street hand in hand, the standing alone on the footbridge… I think we might have gone away. I think we’re done. I don’t want us to be done, because it’s not something I’ll be able to live with. The scar on my arm was beginning to fade, to disappear. In fact, sitting here right now, I can hardly see it, in the dim glow from the computer screen.
Who ate your heart? You’re cold inside. You’re not the one I hoped for. I’ll see you on the other side…
The fact is that you’ve done it again, that my heart lays shattered like so much glass strewn about the floor. And it stings, now, because I have a mind-connectio
I know you think I’m holding you down. I’ve fallen by the wayside now, and I don’t understand the same things as you. But I do…
Every morning comes too soon, now, and I wish it would stay dark forever. That’s why I must retreat into the North, to avoid the light, to avoid the warmth, to avoid the day. I can’t live here, with or without you… I need to go, to escape, to get out from under the thumb of the authorities, to be able to express myself freely. Too fucking bad that’s allegedly one of my constitutional rights… pah. Rights. What tosh.
I’m getting old and I need something to rely on. So tell me when you’re gonna let me in. I’m getting tired and I need somewhere to begin…
The Clash told me to know my rights… I guess I never really paid attention. Screw the law… Like you said, it’s a hell of a lot of highway. And I miss you… and need you… and a bunch of other things but my head and my heart hurt so much that the ocean is running down my face again in rivulets… I hate it… I hate it… oh, I hate everything so much… it has my soul…
The wind wouldn’t blow me home to lie in your heart of hearts. Will I ever see you again and lie in your heart of hearts? – Keane, “Untitled 1”, Hopes and Fears
Bizarre... I've been turned down... yet I feel better than I normally do. Interesting how things work sometimes.
Biology...than
So many things have changed for me in the last few days. I don't really know why... but it could have something to do with me straightening things out with Tyler, and having the name Kiwi officially retired.
I got my poem for English done, and my teacher is going to turn out to be okay after all, so it seems.
Brandon is inexplicably adorable... I really don't understand it. I gave up trying to understand myself rather a long time ago, so... this is really no time to start.
I changed Seb's Song of the Week... to one that I really, really love. Wait, I really, really love every song I put on there... oh well.
"So much wasted, and this moment keeps slipping away..." - Peter Gabriel, "In Your Eyes"
So. I got to spend half the day with Tyler yesterday... Grace wants me to ask him to Sweetheart... but I'm not entirely sure I want to go to Sweetheart, peroid... with anybody. I might go as friends with someone, but given recent events I'm not sure the more-than-frie
My mum asked today could she borrow an hour of my time. I asked today could she borrow an hour of my time after this semester was over. She said yes. I love answering questions with questions.
I totally did not screw my solo up... but I can't sightread.
Tyler has beautiful eyes. 'Twas a good thing they had blinding lights on the stage, otherwise I would've gotten distracted by them and screwed my solo up. The stands at Olwein were purple, which I found amusing.
I'm at Chelswyn's house... "working" on science. Actually, we're taking a break, cos we're nearly done with benchmark four. After this, just one to go! Vince called, to BRAG... who'dve thunk?
I talked with Ali on the phone for nigh on two hours last night... about anything and everything. Unfortunately, I was not really reduced to ash, swept up, and flushed down the toilet.
"Nothing matters now, nothing matters now, nothing matters, oh yeah..." - Franz Ferdinand
So. See you all.
So. I'm on again. I was depressed... until Brandon got online. I'm shaking up my second semester schedule... wahoo. Yeah. And, Sawie... if'n thou readest this... it's get loose. Lookin the lyrics you sent me.
So yeah. Here I sit, broken-hearted
I missed Jazz Band this morning and now i've only got two rehearsals before contest... great. What's the betting that I die the day of competition because my heart breaks because I suck so bad? We heard the other Jazz band play and they're meg better than we are... DE-pressing. so. After school today I have to talk to Mrs. Temeyer and Mrs. Powell... and shove something under Ms. Chester's door... and give Danielle her CD at speech... and pick up my speech clothes... and then work on science at Chelsea's house until I decide I need to go home and do my Geometry homework... which I could be doing now... oh well.
So yeah... let's just say I'm unhappy.
I think I'm deteriorating. I feel somehow that I've lost him, even though the rational part of my mind tells me that this is not so. The part of me that is not ruled by reason, the part that is wild and untamed, tells Rationale what it has known all along: on some level, my life is dependend upon my relationship with him. He was always someone who understood. I told him all those months ago that I wasn't leaving him because of anything he did, or any change in the way I felt about him. It's like in the song "Bottom of a Bottle" by Smile Empty Soul -- I needed some time alone to deal with issues. I was adapting to high school, dealing with new people... questioning my sexuality... lots of things. Now I've got it straightened out and it seems like he doesn't want to even really talk to me any more. There were probably ten words in that e-mail...
I wear the bracelet he gave me around my wrist. The band is made of leather, which is a big thing for a vegetarian like me. But he gave it to me, so I wear it, despite the fact that it's against my beliefs. Because the thing I believe in above all other things is love: more than freedom, more than justice, more than truth, more than music, more than vegetarianism. And now, whether it's the truth or not, he's stamped on my heart after ripping it out with bolts of lightning. He's cut it into little pieces and fed it to the dogs.
I should just fall into the pit where the dogs lie. I should let them eat my flesh... if indeed even the dogs would have it. I would cast myself into the ocean for him, and yet he does not respond to that.
I've been shattered.
And yes, I've got a new poll.