You pressure me! I hate that! I feel rushed. I feel like I have to love you.
You're the only guy that will look at me.
But you're not the only guy that can make me feel like shit
and still be happy at the same time.

No, see, I have this thing called a father.

Dad and Mickie, I guess this post it dedicated to you.

Mickie:
STOP IT! Get the hell out of my head!
You get under my skin,
make me think no other guy will love me.
Look at me.
LOOK AT ME!
I'M RIGHT FUCKING HERE.

Hey Dad:
Stop coming back when I don't need you.
Stop making feel like I can trust you,
like I can rely on you.
Stop not being there when I do need you.
Stop making me feel like I can't trust you,
like I can't rely on you.

Swoonzz

Fine then, nobody gets a cookie.

Okie, Mr. and Mrs. Swoon are engaged! Makes me smile. So are T. and Kazo, but I didn't have internet when they announced that...then I found out and forgot to blog about it. Funny? Eh?
Okay, I'm gonna sound ridiculous here, but does anybody know why, when one person gets engaged, the whole world is like "hmm, how romantic, me jock you!?" Just sayin', first it was Beardy, then T, now Mr. Swoon. I feel like everybody intertwined within that personal web somehow transferred the idea of marriage onto one another.
I'm happy for 'em, trust me I am, but seriously. The whole world is moving on without me! Ahh, no, I kid I kid. Oh well, let's hope Kelts is in the happs and the rest of the fams be smilin'. (Let's hope Keltie is happy and the rest of her friends support her too...) Oh, and can we get Herm to tweet more? Oh, and Kazo. Love that chick.

Ah, for the people who know not what I speaketh, Mrs. Swoon = Keltie Colleen. Mr. Swoon = Chris ____. Hermit = Ryan Ross. T. = Brendon Urie. Kazo = Sarah (last name too long). They're nicknames people!

Now join me in a very merry over-rated Christmas Eve! Let's party!

First one to understand this gets a cookie :p

Here I am so feculent,

addle while I wait.

Be I daffed from common dolts,

thick be common trait.

My laund in front sits puling,

so I myself can hear its cry.

Aye, but I myself am reechy,

and am seeking lye.

Thy swain hath dubbed my scathful.

How chagrined be I!

Be thy stile mouldering,

but thy hearth still be sly!

I hinder me, incense me,

for my being lackluster and matte.

I beseech thee, oh get me,

I am just a ziggurat!

speak

Why don’t you listen to me? Like damn. People want to be heard, but we’re all too damn wrapped in ourselves to listen. We only hear what we wanna hear, and we only retain 25% of what we hear. Am I the only one who sees a problem with that? Stop talking about yourself ‘cause you like to hear yourself talk and start listening. I keep trying to tell you how I feel, but you don’t understand how I can be so angry with my life when I “have everything.” So I don’t talk. Then you try to understand that, but you can’t; which just proves that if you can’t understand my silence, you’ll never understand my words


 Stop pushing me to talk to you when I want to be silent, and listen to me when I want to speak.

last night

my rebellion has been officially turned on.

Sweatpants Party anyone?

I'm currently having a sweatpants party with me bitch jessica, to whom i refer to as Mangoes. I'm peaches. Or Peachizz. (; here are some pictures.

Suck

I'm home alone, and I don't feel like writing. I feel like going out tonight and getting trashed. I know, that sounds so bad when I put it in words, but it's so true. It's what I feel. I feel like smoking a bunch of pot, getting drunk off my ass, and having sex with ten different men that I haven't the slightest clue of their names. But I won't. I might go out with a friend, or my boyfriend, but I'm not a party girl (by definition) and I'm certainly no slut.
I have this pent up energy from doing nothing. I bowl, come home, sleep, wake up, eat, sleep, wake up, then go to school, and then repeat. Do you know how much of a rut my life has become? I want some adventure. And unfortunately for me, an adventure is defined by how boring one's life is...and mine is. Boring as fuck.  No friends want to talk to me, and I can't drive (legally).

Okay, story time.

I went to CTC on a field trip with my sophomore class today. I don't wanna go.
But something the man said there got me thinking.

"Every picture is worth a thousand words." - guy (and some other famous guy that he was quoting.)

So does that means every word is worth a thousand pictures?

 Even the word 'Silence' has so many definitions. You could have a picture of someone who was raped, or some little child who is beat, or someone's wife who's cheating, and even, you could have someone who witnessed a murder. They're all silent, are they not? They're silent 'cause they're too afraid to speak. Or you could have a war veteran that was too close to a bomb when it detonated, so now he/she's deaf. They would be silent, would they not?

Every picture tells a story. That's what I'm here to do, to tell a story. To tell many stories. So, maybe I should just start telling stories by my pictures. Because if you guys can't understand my silence, then you certainly will not be able to understand my words.

Favorites Things

I know, I know; haven't been on in a while. I apologize. I'm always busy with bowling, and I'm writing again. This story I'm writing, although I've only been writing it for a couple of weeks, is already 20 something pages, and I'm extremely excited.
Well, to make up for my lack of presence on blogger, I'll go ahead and post some of my favorite things.

1. Music
2. Books
3. Coffee
4. The feeling of the sun on my skin
5. Uncontrollable laughter
6. Pacing
7. Taking pictures of things that might catch my eye
8. Eating
9. Sleeping
10. People that can actually hold a conversation
11. Making somebody's day
12. The smiles you give to someone you're close with
13. Inside jokes you know no one else will get
14. Being confident and being rewarded for it
15. Making new friends
16.  Cookie-dough (mmmmmmm :p)
17. Blue eyes <3
18. Twisted humor
19. When people actually get my sarcasm
20. Random acts of kindness

(21. Cute guys/girls)

Fling At Death

Give yourself a rush,

fling at life.

Be sure to not give a shit.

You’re a cold-hearted bitch,

right?

A mother wears your selfish dream.

But, nobody cares, right?

Not your mother, certainly.

Just keep telling yourself that.

Not your friends, certainly.

Write that down.

It’ll be a nice little reminder.

A quiet demon whispers,

and you’re beckoned,

but not fooled.

Right?

No, you’re not fooled.

How can you be?

It’s just, no one cares,

right?

Give yourself a rush,

fling at death.

‘Cause certainly no tears will be shed.

Right?

No one cares.

Right?

Just keep telling yourself that.

Write that down.

It’s a nice little reminder.

Fling.

Fling away, dead one.

Nobody cares anyway.

Right?

Phone pod

Got myself one of them cell pods today.

Screw you

Take your middle finger, stick it in your mouth, and blow it out your ass.

One more day of putting up with your bullshit then I'm blowing this joint.

Schedule

Wake up at 6:30 am.
Go to school from 7:30 am to 3 pm.
Bowling from 3:30 to 5 pm.
Usually stopping along the way? + 30 min. to an hour.
Finally getting home? Around 6 pm.
Finally relaxing? Dishes.
Eat.
Shower.
Sleep.
Start over.

This vacation will be a much needed one.

There is

There is a tune to every music box,

and babe, I am the you behind who you want to be.

Tyler

We went to see two movies, two nights in a row.

This guy makes my heart melt, and I feel just fine (:

Disclaimer

Tehee, I was a bad girl and added a little bit of Panic! At The Disco lines into my story.

"Reading his lips, 'when did he get all confident?'" and "It just doesn't feel like a night out with no one sizing you up." are two lines from a P!ATD song There's a Good Reason These Tables Are Numbered Honey, You Just Haven't Thought of it Yet. This post is a disclaimer. I do not claim to own these lines.

I just don't want you guys to think I was plagiarizing Panic!.
I'm actually going to see their concert in Cincinnati tonight.

I'll tell T. (Brendon) to read "People Like Us."

People Like Us

Down among the casts of switch-foot dancing men was a tall fellow in a top hat. He sat near the helm of the ship, looking out past the dock to where the stars were supposed to be shining. They weren't, of course. The many extravagant lights from the ball blocked out any beauty in the night-time sea sky.
The wealthier of the men sat on the east-side rail. The man thought through a world of green do these other men gaze. Reading their lips "When did he get all confident?" and smirking to himself he sits alone, clearly sizing up any other man in his fancy suspenders. A woman approached with some prestige, channeling the man's attention away from the envious men.
"What do you do here?" She asked. 

"It just doesn't feel like a night out with no one sizing you up." the man replied, all the while smirking. The woman nodded and with a smile, she sat down next to him on the cold iron bench. "What do you do here?"
"It just doesn't feel like a night out when you size everyone up." The woman smiled back, reiterating what the man had said. "Zoe." She answered, before he could ask.
"Ian." he replied. 

"Ian? Hmm," the woman pondered, "Ian Weltz?" Ian nodded. Famous for being infamous. The visible reminder of the invisible. Zoe nodded back. "A very respected man."
"I wouldn't say respected." Ian smirked again, referring to the men whose eyes bore into his overcoat. "But well known. And you are?"
"Ferin. Zoe Ferin. Unbeknown. Unacquainted. New."

"I wouldn't say unacquainted." Ian nodded his head to the other young man looking inebriate and half-eyed at the cut of Zoe's dress. "But, new. Definitely new."
"Why are you here? Alone, I mean." Zoe crossed her legs uncomfortably at the other man staring.
"I'm not alone, am I?"

"No. Well, you were before I came." Zoe blinked, her eyes shifting towards the man again.
"Don't feel uncomfortable, Zoe. If you're with me he won't do anything." Ian turned his body to Zoe and leaned against the ship's rusty-painted walls.
"Why are you avoiding my question?'' 

Ian smirked again, tapping his index finger on the chip of paint that was close to falling off the wall. "I'm here alone because I can be. Not because I was coerced or left." He tapped his whole hand on the wall.
Zoe blinked, "Well I didn't mean it like - wha - what are you doing?" She pointed a red finger at Ian's hand. 

Ian stopped and dropped his hand in his lap. "Sorry, does that bother you? I just wanted you to realize how nasty this ship is in reality. Why would the wealthiest men in all of England choose to ride on such a small vesicle?" Ian scrapped the rusty paint out from under his fingernails.
Zoe did a surreptitious 360 and turned back to Ian. "What are you saying?" She asked, worried.

Ian grabbed Zoe's head and turned it to the jealous men. "Do they look so wealthy to you? Do any of these people look wealthy, or middle-class, or even decent, for that matter? Did you ever stop to think that little piece of paper you got in the mail was a hoax? A journey to America that costs almost nothing? With wealthy men? On a small ship? Do you know where we are really going?" Ian asked. 

Zoe scrunched her face. "Uh, er, you mean, we're not going to America." Zoe looked around again, and this time she really looked at the people dancing. They weren't dancing in a sophisticated manner, or really dancing at all. They were just moving around in packs and laughing as another half-eyed idiot fell down and got trampled by the crowd.

Everyone was dressed in moth eaten, second-hand clothing that screamed 'five decades ago.' It was as if someone took a bunch of morons that couldn't dress themselves properly, gave them an old wardrobe and let them loose on a ship to drink and dance. Zoe couldn't believe what she hadn't notice before. Everything on the ship looked like it had been taken off of a corner on the poverty-ridden slums. 

Ian shook his head. "We're not going to America. We're not going anywhere. We're staying right here on this ship until it sinks." Ian gestured to the vacant helm behind him.
Zoe winced. "They - they're gonna abort? Wh - what about the rest of us? We'll all die, then, won't we? Is that what this is for?" Zoe was on the verge of tears, practically two shallow breaths away from hyperventilating. 

Ian hesitated, then abruptly stood up. "Follow me." Ian said, taking Zoe's delicate little hand in his and leading her towards the rooms of the ship. He took her inside of his room and closed the door. "They take the poverty-stricken. The evil. The useless. The worthless. They take them on the cheapest ship they can find. 'A trip to America.' Then they sink it. And claim it an accident." Ian said.

Zoe sat down, paralyzed with fear. "Why, am I - and you?" she stuttered, blinking back tears that inevitably rolled down her cheeks anyway. "You. I mean, you're Ian Weltz. You're - you're -" Ian held up his hand to stop Zoe.
"I'm, what? Famous? But certainly not wealthy. Certainly not relevant enough to keep alive in the slums. It's 3014, there are too many people. They don't need people like us." 

Zoe sobbed. "Yeah." She whispered. "People like us. Like - us? Like what?" Ian held Zoe and stroked her hair softly.
He sighed, "People who are too amid poverty, even for the slums of England. We don't deserve to be anywhere near the rest of the relevant people. At least that's what they think." Zoe winced again.

Zoe heard a faint noise, and realized before she had time to react, that the sound was the water. There was no other sound aboard. She hadn't noticed anything die down. The loud music and slurring laughs of the others outside had vanished abruptly. She looked down and noticed the faux linoleum covered in water. It was rising fast, and soon it was to both of their shoulders.

Taking her last breath, Zoe dove under the water and desperately tried to swim through the bone-chilling opaqueness. She swam through the door, leaving Ian's body behind, and kicked as hard as she could to propel herself towards the end of the hallway, and soon to the opening to the deck. 

As she was swimming past a door, her dress caught on a sharp splinter pointing outwards. She struggled to free it, and ended up ripping her dress. By the time she turned herself around, the moon, which now brightly shone due to the lack of ship lights, was far above her head. As was the water. Bodies were floating up beside her and she was momentarily blinded. 

Zoe started panicking, not knowing what to do. She headed for what she thought was upward. But what she found was a piece of glass that had broken from the helm, and she found in right through her wrist. Zoe gulped from the pain, but what she gulped wasn't air. She grabbed her throat and desperately tried to propel herself upward.

A hundred or so bodies were floating at the top of the deadly black sea. The moon looked down with an indifferent face. The stars, the molecules of water, the ship captain, the creators of, who work behind "People Like Us", they could not care less. They were just doing their job. Living. But the other people under the moon, under the stars, treated so poorly, lost more than just a life that night.

They lost a chance at redemption.

Hermit (:

Just 'cause (:



Bringin' back the guy-liner.

Hahaha, I love how he looks drunk. Oh well...

love ya Hermit!

Waka Waka eh eh

Ahhhh, I'm now not single. Yes, that's right; lonely little me has a boyfriend (:

He is Tyler. Aaaannnnddddd everything is a-okay right now.

Halloween went great. I hung with Jessica and Angie and we walked around. Near the end we told people since it was 8 and no other trick-or-treaters would be out that they should empty their bowls into our bags (run-on sentence). But they were stingy and only gave us one each (add-on run-on sentence).

Everything is mellow. I'm cool with annoying people and involved in absolutely no drama. Life should just stay this way. I enjoy it very much. So I'ma go listen to some music and get my P!ATD and FOB on. I might post tomorrow. See ya (:

P.S. Ya know it's weird; I haven't thought about Hermit much. Maybe my next post will be about him.

P.P.S. I still love ya Herm (:

adls

Just sayin'.

La la la

I'll be at the library honey, and if you need me
I'm the girl in the grey skinnies and Beatles tee.

Ah

Romantic feelings are exhausting.

Give me a break!

BAHAHAHAHA

Checking up on my ex's Facebook wall, I see every other post is "call me!!" or "I love you babe." or "hopefully I'll see him later." or "CALL MEE PLEASSEE!!!" by his girlfriend.

I feel good knowing I have never done that and never will.
That's just embarrassing, and clingy. I hate clingy. He down-graded. Like major. And I know this is kinda rude, but it was a big-time confidence-boost and I felt like I needed to share that with you guys.

I'm single. And ya know what? Even though I really hate being alone, and all I want is for someone to hold me, I'm really glad I don't have all the other consequences of a relationship. I just don't think I'd be able to keep it up. So, maybe, a friend with benefits. No strings attached?

Hopefully you got the reference. Oh well, I have a concert tonight.

Or, as I've said before:

"Mama's got a date with the risers tonight."

. .

I really outta write another letter. Just in case?

It's raining and everything is at it's true color. Which is so depressing because it looks the same.
I wish I could write what I want on here.
But you would read it.
So, I guess
No.

Without the iridescence and crunchy leafs, autumn would just be rainy, wet, and annoying.

Lab Rat

I'm just your little lab rat.

I'm just another guinea pig. 

Run your stupid test.

I was programmed not to mind anyway.

Dear You

Dear You,

You have this sick and twisted way of making me think everything is going to be alright,
and then crushing me.

I hate you.

Jules

Generic

I want you to grow up with me. With structure and support.
I want you to live with me. Not dream.

I dreamt.
I know.
It isn't real.

You're stuck on a phase that you can't outgrow.
Stuck with a fever you can't sweat out.

Do yourself a favor and go to a tattoo parlor.
Get "generic" tattooed across your forehead.

You're nothing but a carbon copy.

Generic.

King's Island

At least 57,000 people had the same idea as my mother, my brother's friend, and I last night. Let's all go to King's Island! At first it was nice. Not too many people there. But around 8 o'clock, shit got crazy. You couldn't walk down the walkways without bumping into someone, or someone dressed as a something to try and scare you. Plus the faux fog they kept spewing out of hidden machines made it 10x harder to see.
By 8:00, people were parking on the grass or the side of the street, marching in like the saints. Hell, by 11:30, when we left, there were still people walking in. And the park closes at 1:00!
When we rode the Windseeker, we saw the parking lot without a single parking space left. We saw the massive crowd of eager adrenaline-junkies swarming below, and it was so bad you couldn't see the ground they were stepping on. Lines for rides were 1 to 3 plus hours long, and some were an hour alone for fast lane.
Fast lane, such a rip-off. Peh.
Well whatever. It was fun. I'm too lazy to write out all of the details, but you get how crowded it was, so there really isn't any need. That crowd was probably the most exciting thing last night, and even then it wasn't so exciting. Just shocking, and inevitably, irritating. Damn King's Island and their scams. They easily made over ten million last night.

Paradox?

The next sentence is true.

The previous sentence is false.

What if Pinocchio said, "my nose will grow now?"

If I chose not to decide, have I still made a choice?

If seeing is believing, then why are looks deceiving?

Why is there no other word for synonym?

Bonfire

This night was magical.
When I got there, Sam, Kristin, and I went walking around in the Hintermeister woods. Then we went around the bonfire and roasted hotdogs. Everybody was making weenie jokes, and we were laughing hysterically. I kept poking the ground and making it sizzle when my hot roaster-stick (does that sound wrong?).
Then we roasted marshmallows and made s'mores. I cannot believe Kristin hadn't ever had a s'more until tonight. It boggles me. We sat in the little area with the intersecting ropes and sang everything from Misery Business by Paramore to Price Tag by that-one-chick.
Anyway, then we all played hide-and-go-seek. Sam, Kristin, Jonah, and I all hid together the first round. We stayed in out spot for twenty minutes after the round had finished because nobody bothered to text us.
The next round was just Sam and I, and we hid almost in the same spot. I'm still surprised we didn't lose. I had a white hoodie on, and we were talking and texting the whole time. Anyway, Jonah (who was seeker) passed us like six times, and we didn't get caught. Finally, he got lost and gave up. And again, nobody bothered to tell us.
The third round, is was Sean who was hiding, and we all had to find him. He had a red blinker light that flashed on and off. It was mandatory he wore it, so we didn't have to look too hard. The plan was to just leave him there for a while. But eventually we went looking for him. He had taken the light out of his hoodie and taken the hoodie off. We found both, and when we got them, and crossed his path, he jumped out and almost made a girl pee herself.
It was hilarious.
By then, it was about time to leave. So Mark's dad packed everything up, and I swung and watched the stars while everyone slowly started to leave. Then I got home. Yay. But it was a fun, fun night. I'm still on a sugar high from all the Coke and S'mores I'd drank and eaten. Nights like these really make me want to just kick back and enjoy my life. I love just relaxing. I need to take time from this blog, and Facebook, and Twitter, and just live.
So, tomorrow I'm going to King's Island with my mom. But you won't be hearing back from me for a while. (Not too long though.)
It's hard to think that not 8 hours ago, I was with my cousin and her friends at Drischool* and McDonald's. goofing off in the play-pin and almost making it fall with our accumulated 730 pound asses. I jinxed myself when I said nothing interesting happens in my life. This night moved fast.
Too fast.


Bye, for a while. I love you all. Please be here when I return.

Well

Well Gosh, nothing really interesting is happening in my life right now....which, I mean, nothing interesting ever does happen. Just, ya know, normal-teenage-I-hate-everything angst. But I haven't really posted anything about Panic! lately...well....I guess I have?
Oh, screw it, I don't care. If ya wanna read my blog, read it, if you don't, oh well.



And in the meantime? Goin' to a choir party at Hintermeister.

S'mores and soggy ground and bonfires.

What a lovely idea.

La Write

Ahhh, thank God for my brother. Without him, I'd've (I invented a new word) lost everything. All of the things I found from when I was a kid, typed out, and put on my flash-drive. It would've all been gone. But nope (: it's not. 'Cause I have the best big brother in the world.

:D :D :D

Happpyyy dayyy (:

My "Nostalgic" Playlist

Here's my "Nostalgic" playlist, in which I put many songs that remind me of my childhood.
Give it a listen.

http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLF56EF5B56572F454

aaaaand sigh

Today, I sang for the Ice cream Social, which is this pathetic fund-raising event held in the cafeteria of my high shcool. See, the point is, to have live "entertainment" singing for you while you eat ice cream and talk about how bad of a choir we are. And we are. We are horrible. We were the first to go on, and the worst there to sing. But that's not my point. My point is:
Before my choir went on, I was just dilly-dallying around, since we went on at 4 and I had arrived at 3. But in the cafeteria, as I walked over to my somber little corner where I sat and did absolutely nothing but look creepily out of the window, I walked through a spot where somebody had sprayed AXE. My mind was reeling. I guess I was trying to remember something, because I had this sudden feeling of...of I don't even know. Just a feeling that I couldn't place, that vanished as soon as it had appeared.
Then it hit me: Dorian. That was the cologne that Dorian had always worn. Always. And my mind was trying to remember a time I had spent with him, but I had blocked it because I don't really like thinking of my ex-boyfriends all too much. The smell had nauseated me, but as it turned out, when I lost Dorian, I found the smell actually comforting. And I missed it (I don't now, of course).
Now, I feel sick to my stomach with guilt. I had a suppressed memory, that was triggered by the smell of his cologne. I'm not supposed to be thinking about him. We're over and done with. But, still, I couldn't stop thinking about it. I kept wondering what that feeling was, or what the memory was even supposed to be. And I realized, that feeling was longing. Dread and longing and relief and anger. Most of the feelings I felt when we broke up.

I still can't place the memory though. Because he wasn't around me when we broke up the final time. He dumped me over text. So I don't know why I'm feeling the feelings I felt when we broke up. (try saying that three times fast.)

Walking on air

Why is it that whenever something goes seriously wrong in my life, the next day if feels like I'm walking on air? I mean, gosh, even the situation with me and Adam is on the fast-track to Fix-It-Ville. I feel like I post my emotions too soon. I seem down before everything lifts up.
But, isn't it always that way? You have to drop before you can fly. Well I'm tired of posting downers on my blog while I'm in the free-fall. But whenever I'm flying something is always nagging at me. Like, say, my common sense, for instance? Or, my sense of reality, which I've acquired from my father. But, I don't know, I always have this shadow, that glows in the most conspicuous places.
And here, I feel like I'm posting a downer. But, really, it's just me being me. I'm a pessimist. You can bite me, I don't care what you think. I'm only saying that whenever I'm walking on air, I always know in the back of my mind, that sooner or later one of these clouds is gonna give way.

And I'm back to falling.

As far as birthdays go

Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday dear me. Happy birthday to me.

I wish you could sense all of the bitterness and anger in that. But I guess you could just read that sentence and know anyway.

As far as birthdays go, if I keep having bad birthdays year after year
I'm just going to forget this day even exists.

This, marked on my imaginary calendar, is third to worst moment of my life.

Oh, I really need to stop thinking of myself. I've been doing a lot of that lately. Ew. I hate it.

Okay. Back to caring about others.

Gosh, I'm such a downer!

:) :) :) :) :) :) :) :)  :) :) : ) : ) :) :D :D :D :D :D :D :) :) Handful of smiles for everyone!!

9/11

May everybody who passed on, on this horrible day, rest in peace.

So this song doesn't really go with 9/11 but I wanted to post it.

This is the most truthful song I've ever heard to date.

The bridge goes with 9/11.

"The blind leading the blind."

Herm

"Actually, none of these were written with anything to do with him in mind. They are things people have told me, I have read and written down that I think are some pieces of great advice. I guess it's hard for anyone on the outside to understand the relationship that we have now. i think everyone would be surprised that we are actually friends, I see him at least once and month, he's given me a tour of his new house and we've had many conversations about our wishes, flaws and ways of dealing with things. Ryan's life isn't in the dumps, that's just what the outside world thinks. He is busy, doing what he loves and honestly seems calmer and more content than I have ever seen him. It's hard to believe but fame isn't always #1 to people, and many people who have it, then really revert from wanting it.

I guess because of our relationship that people do not see, it's easy for me to crack one on him because I know he will laugh, shake his head and I think understands my crazy. Ryan is friends with both swoon and I, and honestly, this is a much bigger deal to you than it is to us, we laugh about our relationship and what a nut-so time it was often."

I am so happy I'm crying.
Thanks for clearing this up.

I've been all wrong. Sorry Ryan. Sorry Keltie.

I Should Say

I say the things I say most of the time because I think they are important.

Maybe not to you.

But they are to me.

Don't question why I write the way I write. Don't question what I write.

Maybe the answers you're looking for are written between the lines.

But in most cases, not unlike mine, they are plain and bold.

You don't have to read them.


Most of the time, they are just incoherent thoughts and incomplete ideas. Sometimes, they may be relevant to you, and some other times, I'm just trying to be funny. But you don't have to understand why I do or say or type or write most of the things I do. You don't have to understand me at all. That's not what I'm here for. I'm here to give you words. And they mean nothing at times, but on other days they are as great as the universe. They are as deep as an abyss and they are far as the mind can see. Any word is worth a thousand more.

You don't have to understand them to get them.

On a train

I'm on a train,
except no one is at the helm.
And no one is on the train.
Except for you.
But I'm not there.
And we're passing through black tunnels
underground,
and I see your reflection in the window
is somebody completely different.

And then we crash.

I see you thrown from your seat.
Glass shatters,
headlights glare.
And you are no more.
Nonexistent.
You were never alive.

I see everything reverse.
Headlights of the other train fade away
and the glass falls back into place.
Except you don't fall back into your seat.
The person sitting there
is the person I saw as your reflection.
Somebody completely different.

You were never there in the first place.




Then I wake up.

What is it, to fly?

Today, I swung.

Swang?

The past tense form of swing.

Anyway, I went to my old elementary school (which is only like 3 blocks away anyway) and swung 'til my heart 'twas content. The only thing I could see was the sky and birds. Silly little me was so envious of those birds.
When you look at the sky, what do you see?
I see an opportunity. Beauty. The whole world is mine, it is what I make of it. But all I want to do is fly. Fly away. Like Kelly Clarkson says: "I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly/I'll do what it takes 'til I touch the sky."
Oh I yearn! I long! I belong in the sky! When I look at the birds the sky seems so much bigger. When you look at it, it looks like a ceiling; small. But when you see a bird flying high above, it becomes so much more. And I belong with the clouds!
So I swing and swing and tilt my head so all I can see is the sky. It feels like flying but I'm not going anywhere. Girls like me just hope and hope that one day we'll jump out of the swing and we'll stay in the air. Gravity has no control over me! I yearn! But I can't fly.
Oh, how I yearn to fly. Just...fly......away.........

TGIF

It's Friday! Yay! Now for some downtime. Anyway.



This.

This chick is freakin' perfect. She's gorgeous, she stands up for what is right, and she has the cutest pup. (Almost like Keltie, but if I say Keltie I'd have to say good writer also, so..) I actually like Sarah. Brendon got something right this time.

I will call Sarah Kazo. 'Cause she likes Katy Perry and Zoe Dasha-nelle something. (Can't spell to save my life.) Anyway, T., why don't you BUY A FREAKIN' RING ALREADY?!

(Also, I now go by Peaches.)

That is all. Goodbye.

Happy Birthday, Spence

I feel like you are your own species, Spencer. Mr. Spence. The Spencenator.

So many nicknames for you. My favorite being Blue, because of your eyes.

Well anyway, Happy 24th. Keep being whoever the hell you are.

'Cause you just have this subtle silence, that blankets a deeper meaning over whatever you say.

Even if it is sarcastic. Or...completely meaningless?

I feel like you could write a song,
and it wouldn't make any sense,
but it'd be the prettiest song I'd ever heard.

Blue, Spencetron, Spidey-Spence, (I bet you're getting tired of reading that name)
you are already so much more than even I can explain.


And that's saying something.

B-dayyyy for Hermitt

Did I spell buddy wrong?

Oh, Julie!

Anyway. Happy birthday Hermit. Hope you have a good one.

Oh, and, they should create birthday resolutions. And, yours should be to make it to 26.

Haha, you're old.

If

If I can't wake you up, I can't wake myself up.

Why try and change somebody who doesn't want to change?

Why make decisions on whether or not someone becomes different?

I'm stuck in a core.

Still having dreams about the train.

And I hate being lied to when I know I'm being lied to and can't do anything about it. I guess this is truly the end of our friendship. But whatever. I was only your "summer budy" anyway.

Deeper

There was blood on the butterfly's wings.
The traumatized thing
can't fly anymore.
And her words were painted bright red
in the air of what's been said
like a hidden trap door.
So we fall to the grave of her mouth,
like her head is a house
and we're stuck in the core.

Feasting on the crumbs left behind.
Sucking on our thumbs,
We're still blind.
Reaching out in the dark,
to take a closer look
of the inside of our coffins
and our life skinned on a hook.

I take in what was said
'cause I'm like an orphanage.
But the sentence is a weapon,
Making reality seem real,
'cause before it was words
it was just an idea.
Now it's transformed into
something we can't take back.
Saying it only makes it worse
than leaving it an unspoken fact.

Well

WE DON'T LIVE IN A WHAT IF WORLD!

Except we do.

Hahahahaha, wait I don't get it.

This is my life

This is my life:

I'm sitting in a Kroger's, and for those of you who don't live in Ohio, that's a grocery store. I'm sitting there and watching this lady. She takes a number and is waiting with patience, or lack thereof, for her food. Finally, she's called, and she orders - chicken or salmon or some kind of meat. As she walk away, she slips the meat in her purse.
I think, my God, somebody has to have seen that.
I think, Somebody has to confront her.
But no, nobody confronted her. Not even myself, which in a sense makes me a sort of hypocrite. I just sit there listening to my music, and I think, this is my life. I think, this is the world we live in.
It's not like I wanted her to get caught. It's not my place to want justice when I've clearly been unjust before. I just wanted somebody to see her. I just wanted somebody to say something.

And I think, if this is my life, and this is the world we live in, maybe I don't want to be a part of it.

I feel empty.

I am

I am the visible reminder of the invisible.

Wakey Wakey

I reread the "Dreamer" section of RRR again last night. I wanted to cry and scream and throw things at Hermit simultaneously. I want to drag his ass out of LA and plant him back in Nevada. I want to lock him in a rehab somewhere.
You said something in him changed that night. That broke my heart all over again. I barely know him and I love/hate him. I guess you describe him so well. Of course he's capable of deceit, hell, even I thought he was Mr. Innocent til I read your book. Actually, until I found out about what he did to you. Yeah, that's when I wanted to help him.
Then I found out about his friends. The substances. I wanted to open his eyes. To wake him up.

But dreamers don't wake up.

FVD

Fear: The world east me alive.

Dream: The world doesn't eat me alive.

Fear: He dies.

Dream: He eats the little pickle he's in.

Fear: Fear.

Dream: Love.

Trending

Bisexuality is the new trend. The new scene. It doesn't matter that you're adding disgrace to the name, or that you people are one of the main reasons religious idiots and people who are afraid of change think homosexuals and bisexuals are the devil's children. It okay because you're only saying it to get attention anyway. It's perfectly alright because you'll be bi for one moment until somebody finds it disgusting, then you're straight as a stick again.

Sarcasm.
I despise you. You people who always have to have the next best thing. They always have to do what everybody else does. Agree with whatever anybody else says. You're carbon copies of the freakin' devil. That's what you are. And you sit there in your righteous ways 'cause that's what you people do. Smile down to the inferior. Soon they'll be on the same page.

Sarcasm.
I wear boy's shirts. I can't stand that girly glitter shit. I don't wear makeup. I like basketball. I like skateboarding. I like swimming. I hate pink. Are you guys going to shun me because I'm different? Because I'm a tom boy? I love the way you think you know so much. The real world is seconds from your sight and all you can see is that cracked mirror. You don't deserve a point of view if the only things you view are yourself and your opinions.

Pedestals.

I am Joe's Confusion

I am Joe's confusion?

I'm your nonsense, like a free reign of love and hatred.
Since you are so much more than just a locked jaw.
When the train comes to a halt, there isn't always people left on.
I keep my heart on my finger because it can be so easily ripped off my sleeve.
I keep my mind at a ready because I never know when I'll need it.
And I can't justify the way I live my life.
Because you never know when things will go wrong.
And you'll never know when you'll have to change.
But I know the way I life my life is fair.
Because you want to be happy and rich.
I want to be happy.
You,  you are a constant reminder of what not to do.
I am the constant reminder of what not to love.

You. Just. Gave. Up.

Too Many Things

Too many words that I've yet to hear.
Too many opportunities wasted by fear.
Too many places that I've never been.
Too many people that have just given in.
Too many lovers that haven't made up.
Too many friends that aren't still in touch.
Too many "I love you"'s that haven't been said.
Too many stars don't shine as bright as they can.
Too much hope that's been poured down the drain.
Too many sorrows that fog up one's brain.
Too many tears not wiped away.
Too many people that have been betrayed.
Too many "sorry"'s you forget what they mean.
Too many sunsets that I haven't seen.



P.S. Don't give up. There are still a lot of sunsets left for you to see.

Cyberbully

Some people need to realize the word "Anonymous" does not mean say whatever the hell you feel like saying because the person on the other end won't know who you are. You people might not realize that it's real to you, because you're not on the receiving end. It doesn't feel real because your not talking to them in person. You don't have to worry that guilty conscience because you can't see their reactions to your malicious words.
Just because your not talking to someone face-to-face does not mean you are not talking to someone. I've never been Cyberbullied like girl, Taylor, in the movie, but it has happened to me before. I've seen it happen before. It can happen to anyone. And trust me, it doesn't matter how mean or nasty the receiving person is, nobody deserves to be belittled like that.
It feels like it never ends. It follows you home. Someone started a rumor of me online, that spread to the school, that spread to my enemies friends, then to my enemies, and my friends. My very own friends who were skeptical at first that said rumors weren't true. It rains down on you and you feel as if there's no escape. I would know because, even though, in the past when I was bullied, most of it was not online, I still experienced first-hand that dreadful alone feeling of rumor after nasty rumor.
So people, you might not realize you are doing it, but you are. Calling someone "stupid" or "ugly" or "fat" is just as demeaning online as it is in person, and it hurts just the same. Somebody needs to call attention to it, because even though it doesn't seem like such a big deal if it's online: it's still bullying, and it's still causes emotional damage that can sometimes be permanent. So instead of belittling, try saying something positive. The effect, even if you don't know or like the person, can be surprising.

"If you can describe yourself in one word, why would you try and do that to someone else? Maybe instead of labeling, you should try keeping your nose on your face."

Story of an Angel

Across the valley, midnight peaks it's way through the clouds. A young woman and young man make their way back to their blankets. Out under the stars, the man and woman hold hands. He tells her the story of how the stars came to the skies.
"A beautiful angel, just like you, was sent on a mission. She shined like a million lightning bugs, and walked like the wind. See, this angel was supposed to light the sky, because the moon and the sun had gotten themselves in a war, and only darkness prevailed.
"But when the angel came to the village she was supposed to light, she met a poor young man who was struggling to find love. And he did. The angel and the man fell in love. But the moon, who was the master of the night, decided she could not see this man.
"So the angel reluctantly returned to the sky, shining down on the shadows of the village. But she was fading. See, without her love, her life was slipping fast from her fingers. And one night, she fell out of the sky and crashed down to the village.
"More angels were called to light the other villages, and soon the dark sky was lit with angels. The poor man was grief-stricken, and refused to leave the young angel's body. He called upon the moon to come and reason with the young man.
"The moon came, shining her light to the once again dark village. 'Moon,' said the young man, 'Can't you see? She is in danger of losing her life. She loves me, and I love her. Can you not give us a chance?' The moon pondered for but a moment.
"'I cannot,' said the moon, without further explanation. The man was in tears, on his knees in front of the moon. 'Pity us, Moon.' he cried, 'Tell us why you cannot. Tell me why I am forbidden to love, when I have been searching for true love my entire life.'
"The Moon yet again said, 'I cannot.' She left the man and his angel on the outskirts of the village, and called upon another angel to light that part of the sky. The man had not moved an inch since the Moon's disappearance. The angel was still slowly dying.
"Then, one morning, the angel woke up. The Moon and the Sun had stopped fighting, and the Sun had one. See, in a desperate attempt to make the Moon see things his way, the man called the other angel to sabotage the Moon's effort to win the war.
"The angel and the man were given consent from the Sun, whom had befriended the angel. She rose to the sky with the man at her side, and they, together, became the new moon, and did not forbid anyone from true love. But what they didn't know, is that it was planned.
"The Moon said she could not, but she was testing them, to see how far their love would take them. She could not live forever, the Moon, and she knew the Sun would eventually win the war. She chose the angel to become the new moon, and gave her control of the night."
"So how," asked the young woman, "Did the Moon know their love would last?" And the young man rolls over, and kisses her. He says softly, looking in her eyes, "Because the Moon sent her there so the poor man could finally find his true love."
"This story," he says, "Relates to us in so many ways. Except our ending is much more tragic." And the woman smiles sadly, a look of conflicting emotions. "You are the angel, and I am the man."
"If our ending was much more tragic," says the woman, her hair falling down to her hips, "Then who are you talking to?" And then man sits up, looking up at the dancing stars. The air feel vacant, out here alone. He thumbs with the whole the blanket.
"I am talking to your ghost."

Midnight Lullaby

Little stars,
dancing in the midnight velvet sky,
where the darkness presses all around us,
and you're our only source of light.
Crescent moon,
won't you smile down at me?
Waning back where we can't see,
and you soon become too new
to show your face.
Here where I lie,
singing my midnight lullaby,
I smile back at you and sleep.
I know when morning dawns,
my crescent moon will then be gone,
and I'll hope as I stretch and yawn
that you come, and smiling wider,
you'll settle where you belong.

Potter DOESN'T Stink

Ahhh, Harry Potter. My favorite book, my favorite move. I'm currently watching the fifth (and I hate that pink lady-bitch!). Anyway, I'm going to see the last (unfortunately) Harry Potter when it premieres on the 15th. And I'm very sad to say there will no longer be any more.
BUT-to those of you unaware-there is a fan-fiction site Mrs. Rowling has created herself, where you can enter the world of Hogwarts online. It's a virtual world in the times of Mr. Potter, where you can be a wizard yourself. How exciting (I am such a nerd)!
Eh, anyway, I'm just sad that Rowling didn't write another book. Maybe Harry's children? Maybe what happened to Hogwarts after the Battle? (Sorry, so distracted. Really wanna punch that pink bitch. Poor Neville. Poor Trelawny-that blonde fraud.)

Is it blonde or blond? I always said blonde.

Oh well, details with Potter not stinking later? Right, bye.

It's Time......FOR MTV MADNESS!

Hey, everybody who's anybody who's somebody, head on over to http://t.co/XMIFJSO and CLICK PANIC! AT THE DISCO! (And Paramore)

No offense to Tokio Hotel, but I find their music somewhat lethargic. On the flip-side, Panic!'s music is iridescent and completely un-copyable (I have created a new word). So, people who agree with me that Panic! and Fall Out Boy (and Paramore) are the best bands ever to have hit the charts, CLICK PANIC!

"Yes, yes, oh yes. When they hit the charts, their heads grow to the size of an over-filled water balloons. Except their heads are full of hot air. They become aggressive and manipulative and very conceited. Talk about your average narcissism. I would be happy to just tour with my band. I don't want to become big. I wanna open for people and meet all of the people in my very small fan-base. That's all I want. I don't want fame. Fame eats you alive."

If Love is a War

If love is a war,
then I am a veteran.
Broken and sore,
and you are my medicine.
Hate is a criminal,
that stalks our very shadows.
Peace stays at minimal,
where the bay is very shallow.

Temporary Bliss

"I call myself temporary bliss
because for a second I think I'm happy,
and the next I'm staring at a door.
I call myself temporary bliss
because for a moment I might smile,
but my lips are far too cracked
to stretch beyond my perpetual frown." - Author Unknown.

I apologize for my absence. I've been staying with my cousin. This poem made me remember the 8 (or 9) people that follow (or read) my blog still might actually care about me. Ah, what fun it's been. Summer is sizzling down to few (although troublesome) worries and sweet freedom.
This poem also made me remember Hermit. And I'd forgotten through my professional and rehearsed anger that he is still a human being, and he can screw up too (he just does more than most). And I do not know him. But I've never wanted to fix somebody more in my entire life. Gargantuan mistake, that is. Oh silly me. You can't change a man. Especially Hermit.
Ahh, but love is in the air. I can feel it. I can feel it in my bones, and for the first time in a long time, I can say something good is coming my way. I love you, you know that? I love you.

Nicknames

The person - (How I know them as) - The nickname - [How/why they got the nickname]

Me (Myself and I) - Biscuit / Peaches [Biscuit - Adam called me that all the time/Peaches - Mangoes and Peaches with Jessica]

Emmie (Cousin) - Omelette [We gave her it]

Adam (Best Guyfriend) - Gravy [I call him that all the time]

Jessica (Old friend / Acquaintance) - Mango [Mangoes and Peaches]

Vincent (I honestly don't know) - Jesus [Rainbow suspenders]

Dave (Youth Leader) - Blondie [His hair]

Andrew (Stranger) - That Guy! [Long story -- he looks like Hermit]

Brendon Urie (Famous dude) - T. ((Short for Top Hat)) [I Write Sins Not Tragedies video]

Spencer Smith (Funny famous dude) - Blue [His eyes]

Ryan Ross (George) - Hermit [He's shy and hides in his shell when things go wrong]

Jon Walker (Uhmmm) - Beard Face / Beardy [The name explains itself]

Pete Wentz (See "Brendon Urie") - Snickers [I Googled Pete Wentz and got a picture of him eating a Snickers. It looked like he was shoving it up his nose]

Zack Hall (Body Guard) - A. ((Short for Anti-Hug)) [He's infamous for not giving hugs]

Keltie Colleen (Hi!) - Mrs. Swoon [She is dating a guy she dubbed "Swoon"]

Chris _____ (Keltie's boyfriend) - Swoon [See above]

Dallon Weekes (See "Spencer Smith") - Mr. Breezy [His Wife]

Ian Crawford (See "Dallon Weekes") - Mario [He played The Super Mario Theme at a concert I went to]

Butch Walker (Stranger) - Wally [Last Name]

...And more to come...

Jobs and Cali?

My brother, whom I've mentioned quite a few times on my blog, Jon, could be (I stress the word could) getting a job in a gaming company that's based in California. I know, I know, I've been extremely selfish when, if I had ever mentioned my brother, I've always made him sound like a dead-beat. Well, he doesn't exactly have such a stellar life, but he's definitely not what I made him out to be.
He's already graduated, so get the word 'drop-out' out of your mind. He can game. He does that a lot, sit around and play video games all day. That comes to an advantage for him. See, with him spending all day on the computer tapping along to crap-based music and screaming "Oh no, he just flashed at me!", he's become somewhat of a computer expert. (I'm not saying that was just the games, but a combination of my three male cousins and his own experiences.)
So, my point is, he could very well end up with a job in his hands, being that he's almost 18. He also might need college experience, which could quite possibly end that career option right there (I'm not saying he's not smart enough to get into college, he's very intelligent, just that he probably won't try due to his complete lack of desire to go.)
Where this comes in for me (told you I was selfish) is that we're most likely moving to Georgia in two to three years (lucky me, I get to move). So, between that time and now, I'm going to look into colleges there and here, just in case we stay. I might just end up with a scholarship if I transfer to a school in Georgia (fingers crossed).
We discussed in the car after my brother's graduation that possibly after I get out of college, I could join my brother in California until I can find a place of my own (slim chance I'll even be moving out there). I'm not saying this is all etched in stone, just that it's a very small possibility. I flipped a coin a million times, asking if that reality would become actuality. It came up tails more than heads, but I still have some hope that it will.

Alright, enough with the long and explained, back to the short-sweet-and-confusing.

Quotes

"Mayhem is better in pairs of two."

"Justice is just another word for revenge."

"Everybody dies, it just depends on what you do with your life that decides what remains after and what dies with you."

"Fame has a funny way of eating it's host alive, then surpassing it's host's life. And now their fame takes the form of a picture on a wall, living immortally just to collect the dust that falls."

(Part 2)

For some reason I don't really wanna follow up on this, but I promised I would.

We got there, stood in line for like, a long time...I guess. Saw Spencer and Ian or Dallon (I need to give them nicknames now) playing basketball. Zack came out. I asked Spencer how he could be wearing all black in like, 90 degree weather. He replied (or Zack did) "Huh?"
We got inside. First band started playing, I was surrounded my people that just would not stop pushing. I couldn't breathe. I got out of there, went to the back. Sat down. Fun started playing. They were good. Then it was Panic's time to come out.
People were chanting their name, then they came out. Everyone screamed and pushed forward. I stood right where I was. I stood on water bottles 'cause I was short and in the back. I couldn't really see all that well. But it was worth it. I met two guys that let me get on their backs, Ian looked at me like he was tired. I gave him the same exact look back. He laughed. Brendon told some random 19 year old that we met before the bands started playing that he loved him. I laughed.
Panic! played. They were good...setlist was somewhat like this: Ready To Go, I forget, I forget, Lying is the Most Fun, I forget, Hurricane, I forget, I forget, The Only Difference, Camisado, C'mon (With the guy from Fun), That Green Gentleman, I forget, I Write Sins Not Tragedies, Trade Mistakes, Always. Then they went back and everybody chanted "One more time," including me.
They came back out, they were planning to. They played Carry On My Wayward Son (my favorite song ever) and dedicated it to the parents, then they played Nearly Witches. Brendon was funny, and kept thanking us for coming out. I suppose it meant a lot to them.

So yeah, then we left and went home. It was fun.

Panic! At The Disco LIVE (Part 1)

Rocks.

It was so surreal, like I do it everyday. It didn't feel new and I wasn't nervous. But Panic! rocked it, and let me tell you, stage presence is everything. Brendon certainly had just that. I met a couple of guys that saw The Young Veins and met Hermit. I jumped around like a whiny baby 'cause ma didn't take me. I'll never meet Hermit. Maybe that's for the better?
Sigh, oh well. More details later? Tired.

"Hey, hey, we are a hurricane.
Drop our anchors in the storm."

Caught Up

While I was caught up in being angry at myself for not feeling anything because of the Dorian-jerkface and I break-up, I realized I had forgotten to look at the beautiful things.
Today, I left my house because of troubles, and my cousin and I walked my dog to five different places, one of those being Wendy's. We sat outside for a good hour or so, and a nice employee gave us free coke and water. Then we walked around my town, just talking. I miss just talking.
We talked about a lot of things; how beautiful some structure's architecture is, how simple a dog's life would be, how I never really loved Dorian, how innocent children are...ect.
I love how in life, when things start to go wrong, just a little bit of hope can go a long way. I'm not happy, but I'm content with my life, for once. I don't know what my future is going to be like, but that's the excitement of life: the unknown. I'm just gonna let destiny take it's course and try to shine brighter when I'm dragged through the dirt.

"I dare you to move.
I dare you to move.
I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor."

Everything's gonna be okay.

Single

Summer

Summer
I welcome you greatly.
Not your heat or humidity
Nor your absence of idiotic students and impatient teachers.
Not your lukewarm waters
Or your air that carries the aroma of burnt skin
And late-night bonfires.

I welcome downtime.

My thinking space has doubled since my last bitter-sweet day of school.

Where I just simply waved goodbye
And said my superficial farewell.

As if we knew, somehow
There's always next year.

Nights

1:01. 1:02. 1:03. 1:04.

Sleep is most definitely out of the question. Exams? Yes. The last week of school. Of course, final exams would be the last week of school. That's how my school is: torturous. Lately, the mental strain on my brain from trying to recall what we learned five weeks ago has put me in sleep deprivation mode. Vampire mode. Welcome back.
I usually fall asleep around 4:30 or 5, wake up in an hour or so, and drag my sorry butt to school. 'Course, we only have half days. 'Course, I usually stay after to make up those six assignments I missed since I was absent. Six assignments that accounts for somewhere around 0.5% of my grade. Yet, I still have an F.....in Office and Desktop. Computers? Computers are my thing for cryin' out loud!
Then, after I've stayed for a few hours in treacherous heat, with some oddly closer acquaintances, I walk home in more treacherous heat around 1-2 and fall asleep. I then stay asleep, occasionally getting up to either eat a handful of pretzels, dinner, or help my mom out, until around 5:30.
This is when I log on to my annoyingly slow computer and write whatever half-thought had started to form in my head before completion. Then I erase it, look at funny pictures, update my Facebook status to somewhere along the lines of: "Roses don't have thorns, thorns have roses," check Twitter for some update from Top Hat, Blue, or Hermit (whom has recently started 'tweeting' again) log off, take a shower, and read.
By the time that's over, wha-lah. It's 10:00. Might as well go to bed early, I need my rest for exams.

1:05. 1:06. 1:07. 1:08. 1:09. 1:10.

Yet to Bloom

Why so lonely,
Little flower?
You sit alone while others glow.
They dance and shine
Their newfound beauty.
White as freshly fallen snow.

Why so lonely,
Little flower?
You show no sign,
No life at all.
While we pick and frolic
Blissfully,
You're trapped inside your pedalled wall.

 

Yet to bloom ♥

 

Concerts and Tornadoes

AHHHHHHH! Sorry I've been absent. Seems as though Blogger hates me, as I haven't been able to post on my blog since Wednesday. I always got this: "Sorry Julie, we cannot let you post on your blog because we hate you and want to be a pain in your ass." Well, here are the couple of things I have wanted to tell y'all since then:

Okay, we went to see Secondhand Serenade at the Attic (Positive Space, BAHAHA) and it was a-mayy-ziinnggg. When we first got there, we were standing in line for like twenty minutes, before we were let in. This oriental guy (who sounded quite girl-ish) marked our hands with Xs and we were let in. Let me just tell you this one thing if you've never been to the Attic: ES WAYY DIFFERENT THAN YOU EXPECT!
First of all, they have two stages. When you walk in, there's a room with pool tables, then you go through a little arch-way thing-ma-bobb and there are like, forty couches all aligned in a perfect square right smack-dab in the center of the room. On your right is the front stage, and on your left is the booths. The booths run all the way to the back of the room, pausing for game-machines, and stop when they get to the signing tables.
Next to the front stage is the concession things. The food place. Way too expensive. Anyway, next to that is the bathrooms, and then there's the main stage. The main stage is not exactly as big as you'd expect. It's a small venue, and the Attic is right next to a Hallmart. You can't ask for much.
Kay, done with descriptions. When we (my cousin Emmie, my other cousin Marcie, my boyfriend Dorian, and I) got there, we heard a not-so-good band play on the front stage. Cool, yaay, music. Then another band played at the main stage. They were good. Then another played at front stage, and two more played on the main stage. We waited FOREVER for Secondhand Serenade to come on, and sadly, Dorian had to leave before they even got set up.
Time to Dance! Jessica arrived just before they played their first song. While they were getting set up they played hardcore techno and some other really great songs. They flashed lights in the rooms and everyone was dancing. It reminded me of how I've always envisioned raves. Oh! And I forgot to mention. They played two songs there before the two bands played on the main stage and everybody did the dance moves in the center of the dance floor.
The set list went like this: Maybe, I don't remember, Random song, Song I know but can't place, random song, Fall For You, Song I know but can't place, Random song, Random song. Before they sang Fall For You, John (the vocalist, he was touring alone) called come chick up there to sign her shirt. He told her that she had to stay up there and sing with him and then he would sign her shirt. AWEESOMMEE.
BY THE WAY: While this was all happening. There was a tornado warning out for our county. The sirens went off! I screamed "IT HIROSHIMA ALL OVER AGAIN!" in the room and everybody laughed. They said if a tornado came, we'd all move over to the right wall because it was safe, and the owner of the Attic said he'd be in the girls' bathroom. They also said they'd keep singing, and if the power went out, they'd just have to sing louder. Best. Place. Ever.
Okay, so John came down into the crowd to sign everybody's shirt/paper/blah blah. YAY! (By now, the tornado warning has ended...sadly) Jessica bought a shirt and got it signed, and I asked him for a hug. He was like "Sure." and I was like "HUGG!" Then we all sat on the edge of the front stage and watched boys do back flips and show off. Emmie got two random guys' numbers (one of which she went on a date with today, and dragged me along.) Then we walked across the street to Sonic and ordered drinks. Then we said our goodbyes and I spent the night at Emmie's. The end.

I took pictures but they ALL came out blurry or too far away to see! Oh well. It was fun. I am so totally doing this again. I hath delcared it!!!

Alright. Goodnight.

Cha-Ching!

Going to see Secondhand Serenade at the Attic tomorrow, and going to see Panic! in Columbus. Couldn't be a happier gal.
Well, Hermit's in Vegas, for some ungodly reason. If he comes up to Ohio, tellmetellme. I want to meet the man/(insert insulting name here) that wrote those lyrics. Yay faux artists! I'd also like to meet Mrs. Swoon but I don't think she'd be coming up here anytime soon. Gotta congratulate her for dancing with Beyonce. Pretty big, eh?
When T. and Blue come into town, I won't only be seeing Panic! I'll be seeing Weezer too. Gotta love favorite bands that tour with other favorite bands. Now all we need in the mix is The (almost non-existent) Young Veins and (the actually non-existent) Fall Out Boy. Hoo-rah.

I've been writing more poetry. Haikus, actually. Less of poetry and more of just incomplete thoughts that are put into a syllabic pattern. Here's a couple of 'em:

The sun shines today;
On everything you can see.
I am indifferent.

A tree sheds it's leafs
When butterflies fly away.
A tree won't notice.

I can be indulged
In your dramatizations,
Just as a stone could.

Brendon's Perspective

I have officially decoded New Perspective. This song is not about how horny Brendon can get (like most of you suspect) or about the break-up. Y'all have it completely backwards. It's actually talking about...get this! instead of having sex with his girlfriend...gasp!.....waiting.
I know! I know! It's a very hard concept for you teens to grasp. Not having sex? Brenny must have lost his marbles! But.....hold onto your hats folks!......he doesn't just wanna get it and go. He actually wants to get to know her ('her' being Sarah) instead of her just knowing him as (as most of you call him) sex-machine. Awe, now isn't that....sweet?
Explanation time: "Can we fast-forward to go down on me....stop there, let me correct it!" Getting the picture here? Yay. Anyway, this was not only about how many times I can type 'sex' in one post (or using Brendon and 'sex' in the same sentence) it's about respect.
Yes, folks, you probably assume by now that, no, my respect and loyalty do not come easily (nevertheless, once you've earned, it ain't easy to shoo it away either), but this made me respect Brendon a little more. That got me thinking (yay...thoughts!) about respect. About how even the simplest words can alter somebodies initial thought of you.
Heck, when I first heard about Panic! (waaayyy back when. I was like, four. /exaggeration) I thought Brendon was....a tad bit odd. I never liked him at first. To me, he was annoying and immature (although, I can't really talk). I preferred Hermit (HUGE mistake) over anybody else in the band. Then Blue, then Beardy...and so on. But that's besides the point.
What I'm trying to say here is; don't let first impressions slow you down. Respect can be gained and lost, just as much as weight can. Even the simplest, littlest things can change someones opinion; persuade, sway in your direction, like treading on water (sarcastic analogies? oh! you've done it this time Jules).

So, even after someone has made their opinion blatant to you, don't stop trying to change it just because you think you can't earn their respect. Brendon earned mine.

Welcome Home

Welcome home,

Outerspace.

Reality,

Would take my case.

In any case,

Your ill from it.

It's not a race,

That you can win.

Hello, goodbye,

Change time to crime.

The past is your folk-tale.

Rewrite us falling.

Calling,

Out to the wind.

Our phase begins.

The pieces shattered,

Remains are scatterd.

Here and there,

Not broken where

You can see.

Just another

Memory.

We are

Your outer shell.

A man of whom,

We knew so well.

What happened,

To you?

What happened,

To you?

Nom

Nom nom cheetos nom.

A few things...

A few things I want to talk about:

1.) Apparently, I am color-blind, and I think my house is purple and my dog is red. I find this absolutely hilarious.

2.) I now smell like cigarettes. Thanks.

3.) There are rumors going around about me; whenever someone confronts me about one of them, I laugh in their face and tell them to believe what they want to believe, because I honestly don't care anymore. This is true.

4.) Four is my favorite number. This is on number four. 4 is also $. Eat that, 7, 8, 9.

5.) I am going to see Panic! At The Disco (whom I've loved and been obsessed with for a good 5 years now) perform at (insert venue here) on June 9th. I am extremely excited.

6.) I still play Neopets. I am 14.

7.) I zone out in attempt to cope with reality. I do not like reality. Evidently, I do like to repeat myself.

8.) I had to add something personal in this post because the thought of a post that is completely light and humorous made my skin crawl.

9.) I am a bit insane.

10.) This post was completely pointless.


Enjoy (;

I am a dork

I am a dork, we've established this. I am also an angry dork. I've been trying to create an account on Neopets (le sigh) because I'm bored out of my mind and I have no life.

Dear (le sigh) Neopets Team,

Every time I try to sign up for an account on your website, when I get to the section of the sign-up that tells me to give you my email, it always says "An error occurred, please try again." When I try to go back to the first steps to repeat them, or when I click "Create New Account" after I've exited out of trying to give you my email address, it always takes me back to the same page.

This is extremely irritating and it makes me want to boycot your site.

Please fix this.

XOXO

Jules

Words

There are a lot of words that explain me, that describe me...

Savvy
Sharp
Charming
Out-going
Eccentric
Weird
Nerdy
Obnoxious
Annoying
Selfish
Confusing
Mature
Intelligent
Immature
Hypocritical
Judgemental

.....but Envious was never one of them.....

........until now.

Time To....sing

I have a concert tonight at 7, I have to be there at 6. I'm in the women's ensemble so I have to practice with Mrs. Kerns* until Mr. Coleman arrives. The only thing I'm petrified of is awards. Since it's the end of the school year, everybody that has participated in choir, and has paid off their fees, is getting an award at the end of the show. That means I'm getting an award.
Okay. Right, left, right, left, right. Shake with your right, take award with your left. It a medallion, that's all it is. Not heavy, not a giant trophy like the juniors and up get. Just a little necklace. Okay. Going back now. Right, left, right, left, right, left, right. Stand with your medallion for the last two songs and then go down to meet mom and (vacant air).
I don't know how many times I've rehearsed that in my head. I have no clue why I'm so scared. Is it because I'm being praised? I sure as hell don't feel like I did anything worthwhile; I just sang. I love to sing, I'm not sure how many times I've repeated myself saying that, I'm pretty sure I just repeated myself saying I don't know how many times I've repeated myself. This is getting confusing.
I always run away from good things, I'm happiest being let alone. I could spend 2.5 decades just staring at a wall. It wouldn't bother me. Besides, I sing on a daily basis, and get yelled at for it. I just don't feel like I've accomplished anything by doing what I've always done.

Oh well, see you later folks. Mama's got a date with the risers tonight.

Julie 4.6

Angry-at-the-world-Julie is back again. I need to start numbering the sides of me. We'll call this one Julie 4.6, just because those are my favorite numbers (yes, I do have favorite numbers). I'm a nerd, deal with it. Here comes one of those deep, personal, and really confusing thoughts I have that none of you will probably get!

I am just another smile on your face,
just another word to replace your facade
of insolence. I am nostalgia, I dream in the future,
live in the past. And I'm measured in meters,
slipping through your grasp
when you least expect me to escape.
We are long forgotten,
close enough to touch
but too far to hold on to.
We are your skeletons, your nimble
fingers that grip so tightly onto the scythe.
Your purple knuckles, made of brass,
that you polish with the sweat you drench
yourself in when you dream of me.

I am nostalgia.