Sweet jesus if you're reading this you probably have no idea who I am or why I'm on your friends page.
Well, when I made this journal, years and years ago, when I was in high school, mind you, I loved New York and saw the image of a girl sitting on the grimy floor of a subway station, and I said to myself, I want to be her - I want to be that lonely soul in the metro... a nameless face, haunting the old tunnels like a ghost. I love ghosts. Ghosts love me.
Little did I know that I would one day move to a far off ghetto, miles away from the shining island of Manhattan, which for some reason is still apart of the New York City subway system, and I now spend my days riding around old AC and G trains at all hours of the night. Maybe my livejournal name was a premonition, a self fulfilling prophecy, or just the very obvious next step in my life,
I used to be a much better writer when I was in high school, I guess it helps your artistic flow when you're angsty.
Little did I know I'd be working at a Turkish Restaurant in Soho, or that I'd be friends with young and exciting artists and taking care of a hairless cat named Albie. And little did I know I'd be so far away from Broadway... or so distracted, so ridiculous, and still so incredibly skinny, but, for the most part, I did know I'd always be happy, and, I'm happy.
Lance leaving my apartment now makes my chest swell and hurt.
The smell of cat shit gives me headaches.
I'm less thoughtful, but my grammar has improved.
The first time my mother brought me to the city to see Les Miz is one of the best days of my life. If not the best. The second best might just be the night I attended a Broadway premiere. Broadway seems to excite me like any lover that plays hard to get.
And, well, my room smells of cigarettes as my friends chain smoke nearby, and I just bought ice-cream from the Dominican Deli underneath my 4 story walk up. Sufjan Stevens is playing. I saw him in Prospect Park last summer, alone, and it was one of the best days of my life. Maybe I throw that phrase around too casually.
I thank God for everything that's been happening to me lately, that may not be cool, but that's definitely me.
I really dig my armani flip-flops
and all the random crap I waste my money on.
The world may end in 2012 ...
so I should spend like there's no tomorrow.
I don't think I believe in having resentment towards anyone anymore. It just wastes time.
and when you look at things in perspective ...
well, you know what.
I LEAVE TOMORROW!!!!!!!!1
Despite how much I love my family, I need to get the chuck out of here.
to the moms and dads who came to our events, who lifted their little girls and little boys on their shoulders and whispered in their ears, "See, you can be anything you want to be."
And to all of those women in their 80s and their 90s...
... born before women could vote, who cast their votes for our campaign. I've told you before about Florence Stein (ph) of South Dakota who was 88 years old and insisted that her daughter bring an absentee ballot to her hospice bedside. Her daughter and a friend put an American flag behind her bed and helped her fill out the ballot.
And to all of those women in their 80s and their 90s..."
My heart. Ugh, I don't want to get into any political debates with any of you, and I could care less what you think, but i loved that bitch. I relate to her in so many ways, and I'm sad. I really am sad that she didn't win.
Sometimes, I stand in my hall-way with dust tickling my bare-feet, a feeling I absolutely hate, and I screaaaaam at the top of my lungs because it's that or fall down the stairs. head first.
and If there's anything in this world that has salvaged my fleeting sanity and has saved my life along with any inch of self-respect I just might have: it's this stupid little blog right here. haha. It listens, and calms, and picks up all the little pieces and arranges them in a new way so I quit bitchin'. Already I'm feeling better. And if you think I'm a complainer, then you've never met me, it just so happens that this is where I do it all, so don't judge me. Or do judge me, do whatever the Hell you want. I don't care.
And today is almost one of those days, it's nothing I can't bounce back from, but it involves one of my highest priorities, and for a minute I thought I lost it forever, and wanted to climb into a tree to never come back.
Yet, things ALWAYS have a way of working out, and I can't help to believe in miracles and mysteries and the like. Sometimes.
Today was spent in some random, unsightly wooded area. We cleaned it, 12 black garbage bags worth, and then had an Earth Day party afterwords, with soy-burgers and a peace-sign cake, and I am using horrible grammar, but I don't care! hahahahah!
It was a little over the top, and just what I needed.
Happy Earth Day my friends!
I am over le slump, and even if i'm not, i'm going to fake it till I make it baby, haha.
Can an olive branch come in the form of a bumber-sticker on facebook?
I think so..
Maybe I do drink too much coffee, I say that now as my heart beats a little faster than I'm comfortable with, and I glance at my pitiful wallet that proudly houses 5 cents, a crushed up cheerio, and a few sweet-and-low packets. I'm wasting my health and money on this little addiction, but sweet lawd above, I really need it. I'll go ahead and say it, I have an extremely addictive personality, and if I wasn't an opera singer i'd probably smoke a pack a day.
Hahahah, anyvay, today was semi-wasted by knocking around Redbank all day, which lead to nothing but incredible coffee consumption and a newfound respect for Indian people, please don't ask...
I realized that g-rock is usually hit or miss, some people in new-age stores lie for attention, and most importantly, and I know I must say this a billion and two times a day, I realize that I am really getting ready for a new awesome change in my life. It may include daily lj posts about my day! hahah, but it probably won't.
I have awesome friends. I have horrible friends. All of them are important and have significance, in all their varied forms. Some people curl my toes. I regard some in high-esteem, yet now understand fully well they've never done anything to deserve such revere and have too much support and adoration. That may sound kinda dick, but if you really knew the whole truth you'd believe me. I know people that can't get over their sadness or themselves, that use and abuse, and don't realize they're not the only ones who are dealing with shit. I could be directly talking about you, or I could be talking about myself. Think what you want to think, go where you want to go my friend. :P
So, I got into a musical theatre program that takes 20 people, and I ended up getting into all the schools I auditioned for. Go figure. Lol, I can be a crazy bitch sometimes. I spend too much time thinking, and proving myself to people when I'm really just proving myself to myself, and it gets in the way of things. I just need to get away from everyone I know and focus on this inner realm of emotion... that's the money shot.
i may actually go to bed right now. peace and love. =D
I want to swim in a lava lamp..
no i'm not high.
some ass stabbed a piece of wood into the side of my brand new tire, and now I need to replace it with the little money I have.
what the chuck is wrong with this world?
Tomorrow's my birrfday?
good bye good bye good bye.
So, I've drifted away from you ma chere.
You know I still love you. You know I always have. I just need to be in the mood to write something, I need to feel it in my bones.
Anyway, Brianna Tobey is now the background of my phone. Why you ask? Why not I say. We're listening to the Beatles right now, because we're in journalism and have tricked the man into letting us on elle jay without that annoying access denied thing. We're quite the vigilantes. And the Beatles blaring in the background suites us well. Anyway, I don't really know what to say. I'm more or else updating now because I can, not because I really want to. haha, Drama's good.. jouranlisms good.. College apps. are probably the scariest things I've ever taken on. I'm shivering as we speak. I've actually signed up for more than one article for the newspaper (oh and btdoubs! Someone took my idea for a Carrie Bradshaw-esque sex and the township article!) so I bes go check that out.
au revoir =DDDD
You are everything I've ever wanted to be. The better, bigger, smarter older brother I've never had. You're the star in every play, and you're that damn beacon of light used to blind people into submission. We bow down to your feet, because you're glorious, and you know that... and sometimes I try to figure out why you thrill me so much, and I begin to wonder if my love for you is simply a different, more polite form of jealousy.
and other times I try to imagine my life without you, and I draw a blank, and I shudder, because that's one of the scariest thoughts I've ever had.
It's because everything about you is honest, and you rise from the water, and you're fearless, and fucking bad ass. I wish I had half the nerve of you, I wish I had a brush of your confidence.
and no, maybe you're not the type to reach out, but if I take a second to reach out to you.. to look into your eye for a split second, to feel your heart-beating wildly, to touch the bottom of your foot.. I receive everything the world has to offer, and it's clear that I'm the one getting the better end of the deal.
and I see your color and vibrancy in blurs of yellow flying down 5th, and in drips of mustard on a pretzel, and in a tangle of the beautiful grays and blacks in your hair. It's in freckles, and hand bags, and white gushes of steam that bloom instantly from the ground.. like elegant lotuses.
and your voice is coarse and loud.. like an old jazz singer who smoked, and sang and drank since the creation of the moon.
And your attitude.. is in the people... people who dot the edges of traffic waiting for a chance to run through your poisonous veins. It's in the dreamers who give up practicality to pursue passion, to live, and love and feel. The rich, the poor, the beautiful, the strange. It shines in the people who didn't run away from a burning building.. they ran into it.
And your soul is unexplainable, I've tried to explain it my whole life, from the first time I remember being strapped in a stroller.. when I tottered around your crisp corners, snaking in between your many obstacles, cowering in your height.. and I've yet to find a way.
Today of all days is a hard day for me. Even though I'm ashamed of it, I rarely look back at the past when if it hurts me, and I don't like to think back to 2001.
And it breaks my heart that someone would ever want to hurt you.
New York New York, one hellllll of a town.
I hope that everyone's summer is so consuming and bold that you're physically unable to find a second to write about it.
I was unjustifiably upset the day someone read a few adverse sentences here, and attempted to berate me with it, in this passive-aggressive, cowardly fashion. I said it's my personal scrap of Internet, and I have a right to use it without fear of an lj-fashioned-witchhunt, and was then told that I shouldn't be posting so freely.. then.
Well, despite my personal respect for what people discharge, I now realize that not everyone shares my same view, and I have been taking this all into consideration.
So anyway, summer.. no school no stress.
all this free time, although filled with the beach, summer reading, and a seemingly endless string of graduation parties) is giving me a lot of stress-free think time. And I've been thinking so much about everything and everyone, and I feel like, well, a stupid ass. I was immature and childish for thinking anyone bought anything I used to say about myself. it makes me blush really. Yes, a part of it is my environment, and I did what I felt was right, and I needed to adapt and meld into the surroundings, but I'm over that and I kind of want to release. I need to stop writing in hieroglyphics because I'm afraid you'll know too much. You've always known. I need to accept that.
So, for the people I love, or whom I trust, rather, I want to tell you everything. I don't want to be everything i'm against, someone who hides in their malformaties expecting people to think it's acceptable.
So, I will be editing my friends-list, custom-friendsing it, and for any post that matters, making it friends only. And I'll start writing what I've wanted to say for a long time now.
you'll never be alone again..
you're more than in my head.
Once, A brilliant author with a questionable English accent, squinty eyes and a coaxing, classic style, told a well-read audience to write everyday. That to him, the idea of writers-block was ludicrous, because the idea of simply not writing was ludicrous. You must force yourself to write, and when you're done, you can strip and delete the ugliness.
now... other than the need to materialize my thoughts on this scrap of Internet every now and then, as well as some journalist aspirations, I am in no way a writer, nor do I ever want to be one. I'd much rather read than write, and I'd much rather know writers than ever be one, but for some strange reason or another, I find that idea right on the money for just about everything I've ever done.
Even if you don't want to do something, even if you feel like you can't, you do it anyway and change what you don't like about it later. Not trying, not doing, not going, not creating. eetz uh, nowt so good, hokay?
And hopefully I can use that sentiment to justify why I'm writing in le elle jay so much these days.
Anyway, despite my tragic Seaside dilemmas, I still managed to get to the beach yesterday.
Only, instead of looking out over the Atlantic like every other summer day, I starred only at the sky and started to believe I was on the ceiling of the universe, longingly looking down, and if I let go, even for a second, I'd never stop falling.
So there's been a major dent in my hopes of a non-stop summer beach party.
As I was getting the word from Devon on whether or not they could pick me up to go to Seaside, I placed my wallet in some mysterious place. I'm guessing that place was a rabid sink-hole or a vortex, because after 15 minutes of Manus and I destroying the whole house in search of it.. we couldn't find it.
and Devon, who was waiting with everyone in my drive-way, pulled away.
And now, I'm stuck.. and I was going for the whole carpe diem thing.
And for the record, that is impossible without a car. My brother grabbed the one I normally use because his blue pick-up (which is cleverly called the Blue Beast) is in the shop, and it feels like someone cut off my legs
... and didnt' do a very good job.
Sometimes I wonder why I write in this thing in such painful and random spurts. I'll go weeks, or months without a word, and then out of mere obligation, or temporary insanity, I finally cave in and write something.
and then I end up deleting whatever I write seconds after its been created.
I thought for some time that it was because of how important entries really are, or how important they become, rather. They stay there forever, resting joylessly in neat little rows in your archive revealing all the faint details you knew so well at one point. Sweet details you couldn't remember now even if you tried... they display things that mattered to you, and it's rude to not revere precious things.
But now, after much debate, I know why I hate writing things: It's because looking back, in general, can be the most painful feeling in the world. It hurts me, and yet I dare myself to read on.
The last yearbook i've ever received was in my 8th grade. It was beautiful at first, and I made sure every brace-faced pre-teen I knew wrote h.a.g.s in bubbly letters and listed their immature sn's underneath. I loved the thing, I looked up teachers, and pressed my fingers across the shiny paper, and would watch as my finger-prints sparked and faded away in the margins, softly.
When I realized that it was all over, and I couldn't go back to my old school and was voyaging to a new world, I quickly panicked and hid the thing in the back of the coat closet. and it's hidden carefully in the coat-closet, and I refused to look at it months after that little graduation, and I know I could never bring myself to look at it now.
and from then on I began to take shape, and although I can recall the basics of my past.. i'm perpetually pensive, and analytical, and different, and neurotic, and.. consistently single; I've tried so hard to move on without ever looking back that all the specifics are hazy and mushed .
I don't like nostalgia. And I know it can be a beautiful, beautiful thing, but it's something i'm scared of.