Injection and Infection.

Do you ever feel the need to write, yet, the words that flow from you are choppy and cynical and only fragments of everything else you wanted to convey?

There's a constant ticking to my left, as I wait for my chicken pot pie to finish in the oven. I can smell it and it smells really good from here already. This keyboard is annoying and lacking comfort. It's curved- who the hell made this thing anyways? The disney channel is on, again. I'm trying to block it out.

You say you like the way I write, the way my words flow. I'm having a tough time figuring out why you would. Sometimes I think I sound to juvenile, too immature. Why do you like me so much- can't you see I'm not that interesting?

Even my writing is all jumpy in its format tonight. I feel so off track. I just reread my lyrics online and was slightly disheartened. I sound like every other preteen/teenager as the years would pass by. A new month, a new calender, a new series of lyrics with me screaming and whispering about my heartbreaks/heartaches/ and lack of self-esteem. I hate this stage I'm in right now, like there's no inspiration or motivation to do anything. It's unhealthy.

Inject the disappointment I have in myself directly.
I have a needle on hand.

Brain Damage

There are six days left until I'm on a plane, which is mostly likely to be crowded with people just as anxious as I am to be home for the holidays. Already I feel nervous and a little ashamed about who I'll have to sit next to for six or eight hours- for as long as I've been flying to the same locations I can never remember how long the flight is. Its nerve wracking in a way, to have to sit in the waiting area at a flight's gate and have nothing really to do but look around, wondering who you'll have to sit by. I always hope that I sit next to the older ladies with an intelligent aire about them. They have no problem speaking to you but never carry out conversations for long. Creepy guys, people who look like they haven't showered in days, and small children are out in my mind. That is, if I had a choice. If I had a choice I'd be sitting by myself so I could stretch out and fall asleep with my head against the window, my legs on the other two seats. No doubt, it would be the most brilliant airplane flight in my life....I'm still waiting for it to happen.

Something is wrong with me. I'm sure there's plenty of evidence that is already stacked up in support of this notion, however, I can't help but to repeat it. Something is wrong but I don't know what is. I hate this feeling of helplessness that sneaks up on me every now and then. I'll feel fine and dandy but then I get stuck in this gummy sludge of...of something that's too hard to explain. Perhaps, I'm simply delusional about everything in my life that I can't associate with words. Music is the only thing that I am able to still cling onto. Desperately- I might add. A desperate, needy clinging to anything that might help me work out what the hell is wrong. I don't like this feeling that keeps ressurfacing in my chest, that nothing can be done and I'm not really going anywhere, despite all of the efforts I make. Where are the words, the allusions, the lyrics that I can associate with that? They're not here and the fact I can type all of this puts a little hope in my heart. Just a little.

This coffee in my mug is cold and I think that the bitterness is making me feel sick....I just realized that means more than the literal. I don't know if it makes sense to anyone else but strangely, it does to me. It just requires some deep, depressing, Nirvana/Radiohead-like thinking. Radiohead, by the way, is becoming a new favorite of mine. Something I can listen to along with another new favorite Scarlet Johannson (spelling error most likely, I apologize) and her duo cd with Pete Yorn. Complexity somehow made simple. That's what good music should be. Complexity made simple, but keeping in mind that simple does not always mean easy.

I feel like Walt Disney- frozen. I couldn't sleep well last night. I'm not even sure if it was sleeping, more like deep meditation where I can still hear everything in the distance. Thinking about nothing and, yet, everything all at once at the speed of sound as thunder is crashing into my brain.

The brain damage is still there and is getting worse.

Losing My Religion

I cannot focus to save my life.


Where does that leave me then? Stuck in the school's computer lab for another hour or so. This year has moved by so quickly, but as soon as I want it to rush forward, time resembles the wet, disgusting sludge outside we call snow. Perhaps, it's the caffeine that is doing this to me? or is it just my lack of self discipline? Mountain Dew this morning. The cap is a winner again: "Buy one get one free" taunting my sugar habit. I want to go home because maybe I'll be able to focus there.


I've gotten a part in the school's spring musical. I'm excited for it and I just hope that my work will not let me go and still give me hours. Yesterday, I wrote a family Christmas letter that was a little more than two pages long. Mom made me cut it down, but it was a bit difficult. For me writing is something that I just do. There's no planning involved unless I want to sit there biting my nails and stressing myself out for no flipping reason. Really, Christmas letters are such a drag anyways. People always send their Christmas letters with their tacky Christmas paper and the photographs of the family in their matching holiday attire. I wanted to make it slightly entertaining while making us all sound good. I believe my first sentence went something like this.." It has been a year full of busy schedules, frustrating weather patterns, and a strange family fascination with zombies." I feel that traditional is often overrated. Every year my Nana will send out a Christmas letter and will update everyone on her grandchildren. I think last year I got two sentences of the whole thing and, although its difficult to write about someone you only see two months out of the year, you'd think I'd get a little more since my other cousins and uncles, etc are spread out across the country like marmalade. It made me feel like the footnote in a twenty page essay.


...I always feel like I have so much to say that would sound thoughtful, valuable to everyone else. Get the invisible people who read this think a little. Then, I start typing on here and only whine and curse and laugh about my own day. Terrible. Its like the worst comedian in the universe. Speaking of comedians...watched a special on Bo Burnham. Youngest person to get a special on Comedy Central. It was hilarious and I want to see more really soon (okay Bo? I hope that message somehow is transmitted to you on a cellular level). I could never be a comedian and for two reasons: 1) I am not funny. unless we're talking unintentionally funny like making a comment I meant to keep in my head or tripping over myself, and 2) how awkward it must be. Just standing up there on stage, alone...not knowing if you are really going to make anyone laugh or not. Besides all of that though, you still have to deal with transitions. Perhaps, its not as terrible as I'd think it would be but I don't know if I could just smoothly sail from one thing to the next....another reflection of the lack of organization in my life.


I am waiting and waiting and waiting. That's all I do lately. My mind sputters from one thing to the next like an old nickelodeon in black and white. My mind is like one of those nickelodeon movies- the music in my life seems to be directing me from one scene to the next while the camera's picture flickers with jittery anticipation of what is to come. Christmas, graduation, eighteenth birthday, college...but then what? I'm so lost sometimes I don't even know what I will be doing in an hour. Quite troubling....quite troubling, indeed. I miss people too. I miss my family all of the time, whether I see them every day or not. I miss my best friend and I miss the person who feels like my other half sometimes. Its extremely confusing (or maybe I just make things too confusing)- too discover someone and tell them anything about you in one night. I have trust issues and you'd think I'd feel more vulnerable like usual. Rather, I only feel hesitant when I have the chance to think about it. Once I began talking to them again though, it feels okay and I want to smack myself for ever thinking it wasn't.

"No faith," I jokingly say to my mother, but its more like I'm saying it to myself.

November Eleventh.

The damn computer network wouldn't accept my flash drive- one that I had been using at the school for over a year now. I finally was able to force feed it my data when I realized I forgot everything I wanted to write for my research paper. dammit. I think I'm getting a sty. I'm scared and angry of course...eww. The bottom lash line of my right eye is sore like someone scratched it. Not. Pleasant. I don't know what is worse: leaving midday to go home and not get much done or staying at school and not getting much done. I realized last night when I was talking with my dad that I only have a month and a half of school left. that's pretty much it and then I can start some college classes, graduate, and turn eighteen this summer. End game, over, goodbye. He said that I should be excited but I'm just scared and struck dumb. I don't feel seventeen, I feel five. I feel immature, stupid, and unsure of everything. Its like I'm a freshman again only this time I don't think I'm more mature or intelligent than most people (that's what I felt secretly of course). Oh how biggot of me to have ever let that cross my mind, even if only briefly.

A Modest Proposal of Insanity.

I feel like I'm just floating along and on occasion someone hits me on the side of the head with a cooking pan to see if I'm still feeling anything. Constantly in this mood of contemplation and, some how, I'm barely skimming the surface of my thoughts. Damn the neurons in my brain, I don't want to make any new connections at the moment, but I see the necessity in doing so. Back and forth, back and forth; I feel so indecisive. But what do you care? You don't and there's no reason for you to.

Many people use their blogs to discuss important issues (or rather highly publicized issues) that grasp their attentions, but every time I try to type about how Michael Jackson's documentary bothers me, Stephanie Meyer's vampire empire annoyances, or the frustrations I feel when the media can only examine the First Lady for her image rather than values; I stop short. I feel so repeated and unoriginal. Humanity is just one big circle in so many ways. They say we move forward, but in essence I feel like we are only a broken record.

Music is seeping more and more into my pores, its as if I'm only thinking about what song would help me through my emotions next. I feel so self absorbed and pathetic. eww. I always thought I seemed pretty mature, I could always see situations from the outside. Now I feel the opposite, as if I'm missing something critical. I hate feeling like its not going to be okay. I was told to share how I'm feeling but I don't want to. its easier to put on a smiling face. That way I can convince myself and everyone else that nothing is wrong. After all, the more I let things out the more I keep feeling like some self-obsessed, whiny little teenage girl. That seems too illogical. Why would I bother others when they have their own problems? it makes more sense to me still to just let things go. I'm not moping around every day so I can't be depressed, right? Right? Or have I just become some cold, dead thing...someone who is not in control of their emotions so they take it out on others? Is this the person I've become or am I just a deluded little girl?

What am I going to do when I graduate this June? I want to go to college and get some sort of job that pays well and is enjoyable. That's how it always starts out though, and then don't people 8 times out of 10 work a crappy job and find themselves missing the things they always wanted? Just a tad disheartening. I'm such a gloomy girl, that in itself is depressing.

Last week I had a nightmare so I crawled in bed with Mom. I don't remember much, just me crawling in bed with her and getting as close as possible. Shaking breath. I know I dreamt more that night but I didn't recall calling for her and crying "don't let it hurt me." What does it mean, and what have I been dreaming still? Not every night but every couple of nights I fall asleep and wake up like I'm having some sort of panic attack. But I never remember when I wake up what it was that was so scary. Its like the feeling you get when you try to repress something, but it bothers me that I don't know what that is. Blank slate on that one.

Blank slated-mind is more or less my new state of being. I'm a zoo animal and that's my description on the sign. "Blank slated-mind...eats dark chocolate...drinks too much caffeine...works at fast food chain...lack of motivation...WARNING: detrimental to self (provokes mental abuse) and may take frustrations out on others. Also still gets a giggle out of Jonathan Swift's satirical "A Modest Proposal" and may, therefore, suggest we eat babies on occasion.

"Just stick this yellow fish in your ear"

Don't we all love it when we put so much effort into something and then fail? Personally, its one of my hobbies. Like Physics; take one after-school session, two in-school sessions, teamwork, five hours of homework, and what do I get? A stubborn failing grade, most of the answers wrong, and a broken spirit. Alas, all the reasons I hate math in one giant present left outside your door. Unfortunately the present is just a doggy bag of crap lit on fire.

I have ten minutes until I sit in an extremely crowded room full of grumpy teenagers. I can spend all day in different classes but in the end its more like I'm trying to decipher a different language for each teacher, each subject (and in my Spanish 3 class I really am). I don't need a tutor, I need translation.

I need a Babelfish.

Snap, Crackle, & Pop (goes my nerves)

It is highly frustrating when the people in your life continue to fail you through their own mistakes and mishaps. Whatever metaphor for life you may use, I guarentee that its description includes "disappointment," "failure," or "negativity included" somewhere in the context. I'm once again facing the predicament which I assume I will face more than once in my life; the problem which I have when people use lying, selfishness, and deceit as excuses or methods for their entertainment. It's terribly wrong and pitiful.

Among other things, I'm sitting in my school's library behind the librarian's computer waiting to help someone else with their check in/outs. Meanwhile and as you can obviously tell by reading, I am pondering all the things and people that currently eat away at my delicate system of nerves. With every stupid high school comment and every cruel joke, the electricity that is generated from such actions crackles through my nerves. It hurts. Lets make it clear that pretending to be someone you aren't and pretending to breakup with someone through text isirresponsible and completely wrong. Furthermore, it's despicable tell a secret that wasn't yours to tell in order to gain attention for youself. GIVE ME A BREAK. Your attempts to be "mature" and "hilarious" are full of bitterness and self-pity.