i went to practice with pooper this morning. which was good, because i needed to actually feel like, i am somewhat preparing for this gelatinous recital of mine. the one song that i really wanted to work on, Il Mio Bel Foco. (pooper made me dance around and sing enthusiastically) and i am glad, if only because i finally was able to finish something. and i am comfortable with 3 out of 4 italian songs. but then, after we finished that, we moved on to only hope... and it was awful. and really, right now, all i want to do is cry... i used to sing it all the time, everywhere... but i haven't sung it in 3 years... so i tried it this morning, and it was awful. not only was i off on most of it, but there wasn't any emotion in it at all, and i'm so incredibly
upset. this was supposed to be a surprise. something nice, and right now, it's only awful. i kind of want to just throw it out... there is no higher form of redundancy. my last song, super epic! i just wanted it to be something, special. like an apology for not talking to him this year. maybe he'll snap back into reality. you know? but maybe it's not working because we don't work. how am i supposed to sing this song for him, when we don't make sense any more... perhaps i should just save it for a time when we are no longer at odds. but what if that never happens. is it enough to perform songs that have no meaning to him? but they have meaning to me!
i'm tired of stressing about this... i'm tired of thinking about it all the time. this morning i woke up every 5-10 minutes from 4 until 6:20. i'm tired of not enjoying myself. yesterday my mind shut down. i didn't think about anything at all, i just went through my classes in this awful kaleidoscopic misery. i keep freaking out whenever i wash my hair, i don't want it to fall out again...
i tried to explain to my mom this past homeleave, why i hated my dad when i was younger. she stared at me like i was ridiculous. i can't remember ever having fun with my dad back in the day. i'm sure that i did. but the only things that i DO remember are getting in trouble. i'm not even sure what i would do, apparently i was quite rebellious. but i don't remember that part. i remember that he was the one that would spank me, and then after i was completely bawling, he would give me a hug and tell me he loved me. i'm quite sure that i really did deserve the punishment. but i didn't feel like i deserved it. and i remember not understanding what had happened. it was hard for me to talk, it sill is hard for me to talk... i can't. it would be so much easier if people could just see into my head. maybe they would get it. but then when i grew up, our relationship was finally okay. everything was good, and then it just wasn't anymore. maybe i did something wrong, i don't know. maybe it's unfair of me to expect that singing this stupid song is going to change anything. i just want to blame him for everything wrong in my life. but at the same time, i know that i should really just be blaming myself. he's not responsible for what i do...
i'm not even sure that i want them to come...
the well rounded advice of the day is to suck it up and get over it. time to put on a happy face and get through the day...
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Friday, April 24, 2009
thou wouldst fain
hmm, today, and yesterday, and the day before that, and actually this whole week really... i have been feeling rather down. i found this picture on deviant this morning, and i think it is a rather fair representation of my reasoning lately.
i've been working on my speech. i'm slightly aggravated with that, because i was talking with another classmate, and told them what i had planned, and then they gave their speech on what i had told them about... i'm not angry with them, just a little frustrated... they didn't warn me, or let me know and so now i'm trying to figure out if i still want to go ahead and go for it, or if i want to back down and try to scrounge something else up out of nowhere...
i'm a little disheartened.. there are so many things that i want to do, that i want to finish. but i am not allowed to do them, to work on them, to think about them. there are so many other things of pseudo-importance....
i've been working on my speech. i'm slightly aggravated with that, because i was talking with another classmate, and told them what i had planned, and then they gave their speech on what i had told them about... i'm not angry with them, just a little frustrated... they didn't warn me, or let me know and so now i'm trying to figure out if i still want to go ahead and go for it, or if i want to back down and try to scrounge something else up out of nowhere...
i'm a little disheartened.. there are so many things that i want to do, that i want to finish. but i am not allowed to do them, to work on them, to think about them. there are so many other things of pseudo-importance....
Friday, April 17, 2009
a little extra push
in my younger years i can remember absolutely hating friday nights. my family did not do anything at all. once the sun went down, everything else turned off (especially our minds) if we were lucky, my siblings and i would get to watch a veggitales movie. but most of the night was spent waiting until it was okay to go to sleep. but then saturday night, it was okay to do whatever we wanted... my sundays were amazing, but when thursday came, i was so depressed... i never really understood why people enjoyed the weekend. but my family became more and more liberal over the next couple of years. sixth grade brought about instant messaging for me... and so i would log onto the computer and try to have a conversation with someone. 7th and 8th grade brought about the salvation of a youth group. my brother and i would embark with dad over to melissa's house and stay until 10 or 11 and i wouldn't feel like my night was wasted. then bma came and having vespers really took the kick out of everything. on homeleaves though, it was back to the same old routine... and i used to go to jay leno's website and read all of the headlines that he had showed, the one's that i had missed while at school, and of course i would myspace... haha. but i was just sitting here, thinking how pathetic that all really is... tonight, is the friday night of my last bma homeleave, and i was just thinking about all of the other one's...and how tomorrow i will probably not go to church, because i do not enjoy going. so i will sleep in and say goodbye to my family, the rest of the day will probably be spent doing something adventurous, then the next day is sunday which means hopefully waking up in time to go to the flea market, and making sure that everything is packed so that i can go back to bma, and finish out the rest of my 5 weeks. it's all rather upsetting at this point...
i went biking today. twice, actually. (i took my sister around the block) instead of doing the 14 mile loop (which is more than double what i did yesterday) i cut it up. baby steps right? i went on a 10 mile loop. i had not realized, because i wasn't really paying attention, that one of the roads that i was biking on, is one of the major roads in the area. so i was on the road with huge cars and trucks going way faster than i was comfortable with. it was an eye opener. mostly i think, because i was alone. it made me realize, just how fragile i really am. i kept thinking about all of the worst case scenarios. what would happen if a bug hit me in the eye and i swerved a little too far and BAM! i'm gone. i couldn't help imagining what it would feel like to get hit by a car/truck/large vehicle. every time they passed me, i thought about it. how close do i need to get. how close CAN i get. what happens if i stick out my hand. i'm not wearing a helmet. will it hurt. i don't have my phone on me, it would take them a while to find out.
i painted today, and by painted i mean, i found six small tubes of water based paints in my room that i have been meaning to use, so i emptied them all into the lid of a shoebox and mixed them all together. there is a fairly interesting color pattern in it.. it's drying right now because there is so much of it, i think i'm going to keep it. i found them while i was cleaning out my room. it happens every once in a while... i'd say about once a month, around homeleaves. i come back into my room and see all of those things, just sitting there, so i get a trash bag, and go through everything that i own, throwing things out... just getting rid of them. it's an interesting experience. i remember that i once must have cared so much about whatever it is that i'm getting rid of. i must have, if i have kept it for so long. but now, i don't feel anything for it at all, and i need to get it out of my room. all of these things that i used to love, i absolutely cannot stand. they are contaminating my silly little existence. it's all very strange because actually, i am a very sentimental person. i cannot bear to throw something away if someone gave it to me, or if it has some memory attached to it. so where are these memories from all of these things i am getting rid of? is there a point when my memories won't mean anything to me anymore? i'm scared that eventually my soul will dry up.
my parents are hesitant to get rid of my furniture. it's the one thing that needs to go, but there is no place for it. i want it out. the dresser, the desk, that book case, the bed frame. i want them all out of here. i had this vision for my room. to paint the walls a deep earthy color, have my mattress on the floor in the corner/maybe middle of the room. and i want to install some shelves along the one wall for books/other shelfable objects... and i want everything else to be gone. but they are reluctant because A) they are unsure of when they will be able to replace the furniture B) they think that i'll change my mind after a week or so. which i can understand, but having all of this junk in my room depresses me so much... i don't think i can even explain it... it weighs on me.
there are things that are important to me, i will keep them.
i went biking today. twice, actually. (i took my sister around the block) instead of doing the 14 mile loop (which is more than double what i did yesterday) i cut it up. baby steps right? i went on a 10 mile loop. i had not realized, because i wasn't really paying attention, that one of the roads that i was biking on, is one of the major roads in the area. so i was on the road with huge cars and trucks going way faster than i was comfortable with. it was an eye opener. mostly i think, because i was alone. it made me realize, just how fragile i really am. i kept thinking about all of the worst case scenarios. what would happen if a bug hit me in the eye and i swerved a little too far and BAM! i'm gone. i couldn't help imagining what it would feel like to get hit by a car/truck/large vehicle. every time they passed me, i thought about it. how close do i need to get. how close CAN i get. what happens if i stick out my hand. i'm not wearing a helmet. will it hurt. i don't have my phone on me, it would take them a while to find out.
i painted today, and by painted i mean, i found six small tubes of water based paints in my room that i have been meaning to use, so i emptied them all into the lid of a shoebox and mixed them all together. there is a fairly interesting color pattern in it.. it's drying right now because there is so much of it, i think i'm going to keep it. i found them while i was cleaning out my room. it happens every once in a while... i'd say about once a month, around homeleaves. i come back into my room and see all of those things, just sitting there, so i get a trash bag, and go through everything that i own, throwing things out... just getting rid of them. it's an interesting experience. i remember that i once must have cared so much about whatever it is that i'm getting rid of. i must have, if i have kept it for so long. but now, i don't feel anything for it at all, and i need to get it out of my room. all of these things that i used to love, i absolutely cannot stand. they are contaminating my silly little existence. it's all very strange because actually, i am a very sentimental person. i cannot bear to throw something away if someone gave it to me, or if it has some memory attached to it. so where are these memories from all of these things i am getting rid of? is there a point when my memories won't mean anything to me anymore? i'm scared that eventually my soul will dry up.
my parents are hesitant to get rid of my furniture. it's the one thing that needs to go, but there is no place for it. i want it out. the dresser, the desk, that book case, the bed frame. i want them all out of here. i had this vision for my room. to paint the walls a deep earthy color, have my mattress on the floor in the corner/maybe middle of the room. and i want to install some shelves along the one wall for books/other shelfable objects... and i want everything else to be gone. but they are reluctant because A) they are unsure of when they will be able to replace the furniture B) they think that i'll change my mind after a week or so. which i can understand, but having all of this junk in my room depresses me so much... i don't think i can even explain it... it weighs on me.
there are things that are important to me, i will keep them.
expedition
i have convinced my little sister that it would be a fun and worthwhile adventure, if she came on a bike ride with me... SO, we will embark as soon as she is dressed for such lovely weather...
Thursday, April 16, 2009
planning cont.
scratch that... haha
i went out, but i got lost,
so it was more like... 6 miles not 14
TOMORROW i will have correct directions!
off to the bank!
i went out, but i got lost,
so it was more like... 6 miles not 14
TOMORROW i will have correct directions!
off to the bank!
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
full of new
first night of my last homeleave.
first time buying a two piece swimming suit...
first try dying my hair to a color somewhat close to my original.
i've been organizing my recital music. i found some relatively cheap plastic things (so for to use) in the hopes that i would not be embarrassed by sharing or practicing the contents that dwell between the covers.
sorry boys....
i feel a little ridiculous right now... this whole two piece thing is really bothering me. for some reason, there are no longer friendly one piece bathing suits... i do not have the body for a two piece. i have been searching for a swim suit for the past couple months. when i was significantly heavier than i am now, i decided that they were of the devil and should not be worn under any circumstances. now that i am older, and slightly less bulbous, my qualms about it are fewer, but still present. after many weeks of frustrating stores, prices, and lack of materials... i decided that if it was my only option, whatever... but i can't help feeling a little insecure about it. there is no way that i am going to wear it without a cami on top... ha, good joke. but still... i feel a little strange knowing that by wearing this so called acceptable article of beach attire i am flaunting my external self. and i have no business doing so. the only people who look good in two pieces are size negatives... i'm a 7...
so now, i have the joy of feeling like a hippopotamus whenever i try to go swimming. joy.
excuse my babbling. i'm just one of many self conscious teenagers ha.
first time buying a two piece swimming suit...
first try dying my hair to a color somewhat close to my original.
i've been organizing my recital music. i found some relatively cheap plastic things (so for to use) in the hopes that i would not be embarrassed by sharing or practicing the contents that dwell between the covers.
sorry boys....
i feel a little ridiculous right now... this whole two piece thing is really bothering me. for some reason, there are no longer friendly one piece bathing suits... i do not have the body for a two piece. i have been searching for a swim suit for the past couple months. when i was significantly heavier than i am now, i decided that they were of the devil and should not be worn under any circumstances. now that i am older, and slightly less bulbous, my qualms about it are fewer, but still present. after many weeks of frustrating stores, prices, and lack of materials... i decided that if it was my only option, whatever... but i can't help feeling a little insecure about it. there is no way that i am going to wear it without a cami on top... ha, good joke. but still... i feel a little strange knowing that by wearing this so called acceptable article of beach attire i am flaunting my external self. and i have no business doing so. the only people who look good in two pieces are size negatives... i'm a 7...
so now, i have the joy of feeling like a hippopotamus whenever i try to go swimming. joy.
excuse my babbling. i'm just one of many self conscious teenagers ha.
aftermath
yesterday, i went to DC with my class... we were looking through art museum's.
i suppose it wasn't exactly what i was thinking it would be, but i enjoyed the "art" part.. i think i've found a new favorite... two perhaps. (but they are both french
the first, jean dubuffet i love everything i saw at hirshhorn, but i just checked out the foundation. and i think i'm completely in awe of his sculptures... it fills me with happiness.
the second, louise bourgeois, they had an exhibit.. the whole floor. she was abused as a child, so most of her work is full of very explicit material, but reading her story, and walking through everything that she created, it was just so powerful... she had this series of stories... plates 1-9. i think those were my favorites...
there was a bit of sadness though, because i realized, museums really only take sculptures and paintings...
i suppose it wasn't exactly what i was thinking it would be, but i enjoyed the "art" part.. i think i've found a new favorite... two perhaps. (but they are both french
the first, jean dubuffet i love everything i saw at hirshhorn, but i just checked out the foundation. and i think i'm completely in awe of his sculptures... it fills me with happiness.
the second, louise bourgeois, they had an exhibit.. the whole floor. she was abused as a child, so most of her work is full of very explicit material, but reading her story, and walking through everything that she created, it was just so powerful... she had this series of stories... plates 1-9. i think those were my favorites...
there was a bit of sadness though, because i realized, museums really only take sculptures and paintings...
Monday, April 13, 2009
Thursday, April 9, 2009
passions..
i've been trying to figure out
what my passions are for the past few weeks or so
this whole ordeal has been more on the depressing side, because i don't feel like it should have taken me this long to figure it all out. what makes me laugh. what makes me cry.? addressing the first, everything. everything makes me laugh. people, places, things, awkward situations, jokes, sarcasm... does this make me passionate about any single one of them? i would say no, it just makes me very susceptible to humor. addressing number two, everything. people, places, things, awkward situations, jokes, sarcasm... they all make me cry. i doubt that makes me any more passionate about those things either.
so far the only thing that i can come up with is the collaborative efforts of simple things, turned into more complicated things... symbolism i guess. i feel so weird saying that though. "what are you passionate about?" "oh symbolism"... right. but in a way, i guess it's true. i don't think i have ever done anything at all without having some hidden meaning behind it. not in the dictator style, more subtle. like my pictures. or my awful poems that i sometimes people have the misfortune of reading. or the songs that i chose to sing... (or the notebook that i just made...)which in a way, is why i am so fascinated by jakob daw (a fictional character)... why i love fairy tales so much. or why i hate it when people write poetry and then explain what they're trying to say before i have the chance to even read the poem. but then again, isn't a passion supposed to be something that you share with other people? can i really count this if i have never really told anyone at all about my secret shame? no. i don't think so....
which leaves me back at square one, all over again.
i don't think finding them is so much the problem. sharing them with other people though, might be a little more difficult. if you were to ask me what i loved to do, what made me strong. i could probably tell you... i love to draw pictures, i love singing... there is this incredible emotional high both during and after... i love writing letters... (silly i know, but you should've seen me while i was getting together Andrew Bird's) but how do you label something like any of those.. into a single category?
and give a speech on them?
besides... i don't think i can really count them as passions, like with the symbolism haha... if i am not sharing it with other people.. does it really count?
the things that i enjoy doing, are not necessarily what i am known for. or maybe i have been living in my own head for way too long.
what my passions are for the past few weeks or so
this whole ordeal has been more on the depressing side, because i don't feel like it should have taken me this long to figure it all out. what makes me laugh. what makes me cry.? addressing the first, everything. everything makes me laugh. people, places, things, awkward situations, jokes, sarcasm... does this make me passionate about any single one of them? i would say no, it just makes me very susceptible to humor. addressing number two, everything. people, places, things, awkward situations, jokes, sarcasm... they all make me cry. i doubt that makes me any more passionate about those things either.
so far the only thing that i can come up with is the collaborative efforts of simple things, turned into more complicated things... symbolism i guess. i feel so weird saying that though. "what are you passionate about?" "oh symbolism"... right. but in a way, i guess it's true. i don't think i have ever done anything at all without having some hidden meaning behind it. not in the dictator style, more subtle. like my pictures. or my awful poems that i sometimes people have the misfortune of reading. or the songs that i chose to sing... (or the notebook that i just made...)which in a way, is why i am so fascinated by jakob daw (a fictional character)... why i love fairy tales so much. or why i hate it when people write poetry and then explain what they're trying to say before i have the chance to even read the poem. but then again, isn't a passion supposed to be something that you share with other people? can i really count this if i have never really told anyone at all about my secret shame? no. i don't think so....
which leaves me back at square one, all over again.
i don't think finding them is so much the problem. sharing them with other people though, might be a little more difficult. if you were to ask me what i loved to do, what made me strong. i could probably tell you... i love to draw pictures, i love singing... there is this incredible emotional high both during and after... i love writing letters... (silly i know, but you should've seen me while i was getting together Andrew Bird's) but how do you label something like any of those.. into a single category?
and give a speech on them?
besides... i don't think i can really count them as passions, like with the symbolism haha... if i am not sharing it with other people.. does it really count?
the things that i enjoy doing, are not necessarily what i am known for. or maybe i have been living in my own head for way too long.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
twothirty
this week is looking ... pretty rancid..
i'm trying to get everything ready for my recital, (which i am so close to giving up on, arg) its focus week, and we need to make sure that we test people for the psychology project. everything's just going down
this whole... weekend into week i
i just... don't know how to cope...
i want to sit down and read something
i'm trying to get everything ready for my recital, (which i am so close to giving up on, arg) its focus week, and we need to make sure that we test people for the psychology project. everything's just going down
this whole... weekend into week i
i just... don't know how to cope...
i want to sit down and read something
Friday, April 3, 2009
tonight, tonight.....
i messed up... really bad...
i was so upset i started crying,
the dealio here...
im not really sure what happened
i got up for my solo and my voice didn't work
i kept trying to sing, and i panicked, i didn't
know what to do, so i just stopped and looked at mr. flores
with this, "ohmygoodness what do i do" expression
so i spent the rest of the time with my head down mumbling words
and then after we left the santuary, i was bawling...
in the corner of the mothers room
the whole end of the concert, it was the same deal...
i don't even know why i stayed up there...
but i'm at brittani's house,
and even though i'm scared of it, her dog is really cute
i was so upset i started crying,
the dealio here...
im not really sure what happened
i got up for my solo and my voice didn't work
i kept trying to sing, and i panicked, i didn't
know what to do, so i just stopped and looked at mr. flores
with this, "ohmygoodness what do i do" expression
so i spent the rest of the time with my head down mumbling words
and then after we left the santuary, i was bawling...
in the corner of the mothers room
the whole end of the concert, it was the same deal...
i don't even know why i stayed up there...
but i'm at brittani's house,
and even though i'm scared of it, her dog is really cute
Thursday, April 2, 2009
games
there is not any reason, why we need to play these mind games. becoming stuck in a situation where i need to call them out, or play along, is very high on the list of things i hope will never happen again.
but then of course i need to realize that just because the phrase is spoken, does not mean that is the answer that they are looking for. i say them too. and nothing irritates me more, than having someone think that i am asking them to play the game with me.
i do not like the idea of being bated. or being manipulated to give people what they need. we could override this whole thing, if we could just be honest with each other...i would love to help, but don't pretend that you are not looking for it.
but then of course i need to realize that just because the phrase is spoken, does not mean that is the answer that they are looking for. i say them too. and nothing irritates me more, than having someone think that i am asking them to play the game with me.
i do not like the idea of being bated. or being manipulated to give people what they need. we could override this whole thing, if we could just be honest with each other...i would love to help, but don't pretend that you are not looking for it.
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