I'm alive!

And it seems like only moments before I thought I was going to die. Well, I'm alive, and I'm good. No one is going to come and kill me, and all the windows are locked, and there's no crazy man in my house, and it's safe to turn off the lights. A few can stay on though. I'm a little paranoid.

Don't count the days

Because as soon as you do

The grass is gray

The sky is pale

The world speeds up

And you'll find yourself

In a continuous pattern

A life of filth

Don't divide your love

When you can multiply it

When you can spread it

When you can be full of it

When you can find the good

And rid of the bad

Don't stare at the ceiling

And look at the chipped paint

Stare at the sky

And forget the time, place and date

Don't complain about what you don't have

Savor everything that you do

Remember that the things

You don't realize

Might be the things

Most important to you

Don't just throw the words

More than just ink on paper

Don't through away what you have

For what you think is better

(Because you truly know it isn't)

Don't try to blend in

Try to stand out

Don't just sit there

Staring at the screen

Get yourself out

Let your real self shout

As I painted...

I was thinking about acceptance. Maybe it was the smell of acrylic paint, or the feel of canvas underneath my brush, or the fact I had had a conversation about it earlier, my mind just turned to it.
I guess you find the good in people without realizing it. I was thinking about all the people I disliked...and then I realized that I've known those people for so long. How was I able to put up with them for so long? It was because I found the good in them. But all the time, every time, I always thought of the bad. The reasons to avoid them, the reasons not to deal with them. But in the end they were still there, and that's because I saw good in them too. It's just that I noticed the bad. Like Tristan said, the bad things are easier to find. Even though, if you look hard enough, the good is easy to find too.
It kind of made me feel better, since it had been kind of bugging me. It was just because I was being to thick in the head at the beginning. I needed to be more open minded. I needed to metaphorm. (I've been reading those books on how to think like a genius. I thought I'd need them help). And now that I have, It's made it easier to think.
But now...since I've spent the past two and a half hours painting, I'm going to wash off all the green and blue paint and SLEEP. I'm dead.

Take control of the atmosphere

Being a teenager is weird. I was watching the Secret Life about fifteen minutes ago, and wondering if teenagers really do act like that. Or it's either just bad acting. I think the third episode was the only really good one. This one was kind of....stupid. Especially the whole issue with Grace and trying to defend herself with the broken bottle. What kind of news station plays that over and over again? You want something interesting? Film a dark alley in Detroit. That sounds kind of harsh.....but it's the first comparison that comes to mind for me.
I felt really...light today. Like everything slowed down and the whole world was at peace. Like when I stuck my fingers out the window and felt the silky air, tingly and soft. It felt like I was high...off of life.
It lasted about two hours. Now I feel the same. Confused, slightly I guess. Just the same old same old worry. Nothing new at all.
Staying strong is hard. (my thoughts are skipping around, I know) I was thinking yesterday about being a woman. I mean, it's hard holding yourself up high especially when you're a woman. It's harder to get respect. It's hard not to feel...so much. It's overwhelming. I guess it's something that has gone on for a while. I mean, when you're a woman, it seems like men always have one more advantage. And you always hear about the damsel in distress. Why not the dude in distress? Discrimination is hard too. And I get a lot of shit like anyone else. I might be just walking, and I'll get something thrown at me. It pisses me off. I hate how I can barely walk out of my own house.
And I was thinking, just about how God created man from the earth, and than created woman from the man's bones. That doesn't mean we're inferior.
I think God created woman like that because he knew we could handle the discrimination. He new that there would always be a fight between the two genders. He knew he would have to prepare us. We're not inferior, we're just the same as anyone else. He knew we'd be able to handle it better. I'm not saying anything like I'm biased, but I just think that it's hard...but it's something every woman has to put up with. If you don't, you're not going to make it far.
A bit of a look into what I've been feeling for the past few days. And amazingly...after the 100 degree weather, the humidity and horrible weather, I feel cold. I think I'll get a sweater...

Did you make it to the Milky Way?

At the moment I'm searching my head for something to blog about...
Well, today my mother bought me a ticket to see Paramore on August 13th with Gaby. WOOHOO! I envy Hailey's hair. I once was told my hair looked like the lead singer of Paramore's, and I flipped. I adore her hair. It's like fire, red,with orange tips, with straight and spiky look. My hair could never do something like that. Apparently it's 'unworkable'. But that's because I never do anything to it. I could care less, and I like the way it curls at the tips if I just leave it. I feel the same with makeup. Acne goes away, eventually. Who cares if you don't cover it up? Everyone gets it. Only if your face is covered with it, and you can see puss oozing out, like Mt. Vesuvius waiting to burst and cover Pompeii. What a horrible image. Minor breakouts are okay. that's what I normally get. And then again...dear blog, why do you care?
I'm typing double spaced and I don't know why. Earlier I was typing in Hindi. I don't know Hindi. I can only read in...English and...French? Maybe I'm giving myself more credit than I deserve once more. Protege moi! I heard that in a Placebo song. It's 'protect me', if you haven't already figured it out.
Speaking of Milky Ways, I like them. And I guess the actually Milky Way is pretty sweet too. God, I've clearly been watching too much That 70's Show. It's been killing off my poor learning-deprived brain cells. But that's okay, because the Board of Education is making sure I go to school a month before everyone else. I go back in...viola! twenty days. Isn't that just DUCKY? I know, why compare the days left between now and school with the qualities of a duck. Because I can. And it's an actually English word. Probably just as English as the word 'uber'. UBER AND DUCKY! And a ton of other weird 21st century words.
What an utterly pointless post! Well, I guess you can make something of it. The ramblings of a mindless fourteen year-old girl. Literally, my brain works about 1/2% less than it used to. And what, didn't Albert Einstein use 6% of his brain?
Any who, I have to work tomorrow, and I'm going to an art fair. Yay! Hurray! I'm going to leave your poor soul hanging on the last few syllables as I leave you behind and go to bed.

Peer Pressure

Teenage years are the most vulnerable years, in my opinion. It's the years when you're turning into an adult. You're growing up. You're in control of how you live your life...and how you're going to end up. Sure you have other people to push you along, but in the end, you make the decision.
So, I had an emotional moment today. I feel like I've drawn closer to that person. I feel like I've drawn closer to myself.
Now that I'm all set on that...
I hope I don't fall into peer pressure. The chances of something like that happening to me are...fifty fifty to tell you the truth. When I feel upset, there's no limit to what I might do. It's my nagging conscious that has brought me through these days. It's my friends and supporters that have held me up, enough to get me through fourteen whole years. And of course, God. I'm a religious person, even if people never really see it. I pray every night, read the Bible, and try to keep myself as connected with God as I possibly can. It's one relationship I don't think I have to worry about. And I don't really have any relationships to worry about right now. Everything is good.
Well, things happen, every day, every where, I guess I can't change that. I can't change much. But I guess I can change a little.

Music

I love the way music feels.
I guess if you know, you'll understand.
When you want to suck every ounce of energy from the pulsating sound?
Letting it flow through your pores?
The way you move.
You can feel it becoming part of you.
The adrenalin rush that makes you feel so...free.
The sound becomes you.
The lyrics a story of your life.
Tragic or happy,
it's an amazing thing.

Feeling

Grasping for things

That can't be held

Looking for things

That can't be found

Smiling

Only to feel

Sad

Crying

Only to feel

Happy

Walking

Only to be

Running

Sleeping

Only to be

Awake

Rising

Only to be

Falling

Feeling dead

And soon to feel

Alive

I think like I write

I never really paid close attention, but when I think, I write out my thoughts. I think like I'm in a story, and that everything is happening to me as the main character, and that I'm writing my thoughts into a permanent book that lies in the back of my mind. I wish I could find some magic way to access it. What was I thinking a year ago on this day? If I remember correctly, today was the day that I flew home from France. A day after the French Independence day.
And I was thinking today. Writing into my head. About the people in my life. I always think about them. And I was set thinking about them more after talking to Stephanie. Will they be there forever?
Okay, so mainly I was thinking about Tristan. I know my friends will be there forever. And I know Tristan's my friend. At least I hope he thinks of me as the same way I do. I love him, like I'm in love with him, like a brother, and then like a best friend. And I think of all my friends like siblings. Most of the time I feel like an older sibling. I am older a lot of the time too. Well, at least in a few cases. But I was just thinking about permanence...I guess that's what I worry about when I think about Tristan. Because I miss him all the time because...well, I don't know how he'll feel tomorrow. Or how I'll feel tomorrow. I'm basically 101% sure that I will feel the same tomorrow, if not even stronger. But...I mean, it's just because I know that the friends I have are already permanent. I know they'll be for me forever. But what about him? And that leads to questions about other people. Like what about Sifu? Sifu's the best teacher I've ever met. And Tristan's the best person I've ever met. What if I lost them? At that point, I don't know.
But...I don't think I will. Because I have this feeling...it's a feeling like I want to break down and cry...but it's....good. It's happy. I like the feeling. I want to feel this way. I want to feel loved like this forever. Because I've never felt that way before. It feels awesome. If it's meant to last forever, all these people in my life that I love so much, then it will. If not...then I don't know. It wasn't meant to be? No, I will make it meant to be. Nothing is impossible.
So I close my book on that thought right then, and then shove it into the dusty shelf with the volumes of my life. I lock the door and hide the key. The story of my life to myself. The story that I will some day share with everyone. The story I have already shared with some. It's one of my personal favorites.

In need of a creative writer?

I went on Craigslist today, just to see what was out there...and I found this ad for posting content to a creative writing website in Detroit. Hmmmm, that would be interesting. Part time, at home. Both of which I can do. But how experience would I need? I mean, I can write well, well enough as a poet and well enough as a fictional writer, if you believe me. I'm fourteen now, so technically I can be hired legally now. I don't think I need any papers, or if I do, I can get the from the Child Labor Department. But I would love that. Working part-time to post on a creative writing website? It would be a perfect way to improve my writing skills and to display what I can do. Don't you think?
And I found someone who needs someone to write thank you cards, each individual and unique. That could also call for some creativity. Sounds a bit bland, though. But I favorited each, and I'm going back to them tomorrow, of course, that is, if I talk to my parents first. My imagination is tingling at the thought. Creative writer? Part time? Compensation $100? Sounds like I'm needed.

The sky is purple! The clouds are all hurricanes!

It's the end as we know it! What's going on? Global Warming? Global disease? Who will save us? Who is going to help? AHHH!

My neighbor is a murderer

Sweat ran down my forehead, my shirt was soaked from the hot summer night. I come out when the moon is highest, and when the sun is as far away as possible. I wait till the crickets chirping and the far away sounds of nighttime commuters are all that is of the noises of the night. I wait until this side of the world is asleep, and those in Japan are just waking up. Then, when all the lights are out, in all the houses....when all the dogs stop yapping....when all the cars are in the driveways...when all the talking stops...only then, I will come out, when I think everything is safe.
I slip out of the house, making sure the side door doesn't squeak. I don't want to wake my fiance. I don't want to deal with her. I step out onto the warm pavement, and then make my way into my garage. I turn the light on on the side, and then I get to work.
Yesturday's victim:
Young brunette, I'd say in her early twenties. Close to my age. Beautiful, I'd say. Her lifeless eyes shine like emeralds. Like precious jewels...and her skin...so pale...so soft....I want it.
I lay her out on the fold out table, on the soft cloth, in the dark part of the garage. I caress her face with the side of my hand...dark against her paper-white skin. Ahhh, yes, her skin.
I go toward the wall, feeling my way around....yes, there it is....I use my nails to remove a piece of wood on the rotted wall, where I keep all my beloved tools. I take one in particular, my dear friend, a sharp, smooth, stainless steel knife....it will cut you with just a glance. A wicked smile creeps across my face as I make my way back to the table....

(exert from what I think would be written in my neighbor's journal)

What does he do there at night? Doesn't he see that my blinds are up, and that I can clearly see him from where I sit? It looks like he's that weirdo guy from Disturbia, the one who kills all these people, and then stuffs them in the vents through out the house. Only to be discovered by some teenager that's cooped up on the house all summer....me. EEK! I hope I'm not his next victim.

Crappy Tuesdays

I've never really liked Tuesdays. Boring, uneventful, and unlucky for the most part. Well, this Tuesday was unlucky. And just plain freaky.
So, when I get frustrated, I exercise. Or when I feel emotionally overwhelmed. So, lately, I've been feeling emotionally overwhelmed. So I've been going on these six or eight mile bike rides. So I went on one today, and everything was swell. Except at about mile marker six my bike broke. Normally the chain just falls off, but I have no clue in hell what happened to it. I figured that if I just put it back on it would be just fine again.
WELL I WAS WRONG.
After I let out a string of curses, I found myself running with my bike back home. Where else? My mom was out, so if she found out that I wasn't at home, she would ground me, and skin me alive. And not to mention it looked like it was going to rain. So I tried to get home as fast as I could.
THEN I was stopped by some crackhead, who apparently had something VERY interesting to say, and I was scared out of my mind. I thought he was going to...do something to me. I was about to cry when I started running from him. It was while I was running a speeding car decided to turn round a corner and nearly kill me over. I was in a panic. There were so many ways I could killed. And then when my mom would find out, I would be grounded forever.
Fortunately, after spending half an hour to scrub the bike oil off of my hands, legs, and calves, my mom wasn't home to inforce punishment. And now I just feel like a wad of crap. Greaaaaat.

The Best Week of The Year!

Because I'm turning fourteen this Friday.
YIPPEE!
So when I started this blog, it was a month before I turned thirteen. So I've been on this blog since I was twelve. So basically, a bit over a year. I'm so shocked I've been able to keep up with it so far. This is the third time I made a blog, and I feel like I've put a lot of effort and commitment into it. And a lot of thought. Sometimes I ponder MUCH more than I write. It's because most of the time I can have trouble transferring my thoughts into plain written text. It's where my writer's block comes from. I always have ideas, I'm just either too afraid that they'll sound stupid, or I'm too embarrassed to reveal what I'm really thinking. Which leads into a HUGE web of confusion that is me. But anyway, that's veering from the subject.
So I'm gunna spend my week doing whatever the hell I want. And I'm in a strangely good mood, despite the fact that Tristan is gone for a week. Maybe it's because he's at scout camp, with all guys, and that I won't have to worry about him getting snatched up by any other chick. Which I think wouldn't be very probable, anyway. I trust him, almost more than myself.
But, this week I want to get a pet. Either a rat, a parrot, or a fish. I'm leaning away from a fish. And a parrot might get really obnoxious. Unless it's a quiet bird. I doubt there's very few around. But maybe a bird would like the sound of my techno music and heavy medal. Plus, it would get a lot of fresh air. I have the windows open most of the time. And thankfully, most living things tend to survive in this room. MooMoo the Bamboo gets along fine. He gets lots of air and gets watered every week. Not a yellow spot on him. Very healthy. I guess my bird would thrive. I sound like I would be horrible pet owner. Better than some people, at least.
Well, I'm going to sign off. Michael's going to be over soon, so we can make our own version of Jackass. I'll post tomorrow. Seeya.