Sometimes I wonder how many people look back on their past and cry because they miss it so much. If they feel they'll never be that happy again and spend their time making other people miserable.
It's a lie you know. The more you learn and experience, yeah it has the potential to make you miserable, but it also has the potential to make you glow from sheer bliss. I mean there's a reason people as killing themselves in larger quantities, or killing others....all you hear about is the few exceptions to the actual point of life.
Which is fulfilling your fate and finding happiness.
"But what is my fate? When/how/where will I find happiness?"
Really? You're only slowing yourself down asking these questions. Trial and error. Sometimes you got jump before you can see (but not physically, like...run off a cliff or something...mentally take a chance). If you let these questions bring even your everyday decisions to a stand still. You're fucked.
Do you want to be fucked? In a not so, Pamela Anderson, Megan Fox (or whoever the hottest bitch on the block is this week) three some with the girl of your intellectual dreams fucked, but in a sucked-into-a-black-hole-slowly-ripped-apart-while-your-lover-is-waiting-naked-to-fuck-your-brains- out-for-you-at-home FUCKED. Right. Didn't think so.
Three easy steps to making sure you get the first choice and not the second one.
1. With every grey cloud is a silver lining.
That's right, even in your darkest hour, there is a bright side to your doom and gloom. All you have to do is see it. Tilt your head to the side, squint your eyes, take a sleeping pill, smoke a cigarette, but there is a good side to every bad if you just look for it.
2. Listen to everything.
Music, the mindless chatter from other people around you, and the people you care about. DON"T get lost in your own witty thoughts and whatnot. Stop picturing cute nerdy chick/boy/transexual naked. Stop it. Bad human. If you listen, it'll give you something to do and you'll probably learn something. How well you listen is more important that snappy remark you showed off with.
3. Make everyday an adventure.
If she's boring, even the accountant next door isn't going to want to do her. (I know I know sexist. but check it out, I insult men too!) Nobody likes doing the tedious things in life. The pooping, the butt stratching, and the bullshit spilling that falls effortlessly from their lips might seem interesting to most men and very few women. I mean less than 2%, but! for the rest of us, we want more.
We only get more if we give more. Not spending money, not acting falsetto happy, but simply living everyday like it's truly the last.
There you go. The basis of finding and being happy.
Use it wisely.
I mean it.
Do NOT make me leave this bed to straighten your mess. I won't.
I'm going to learn stuff now.
Off with you hooligins.
<3 ZeD
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Fighting no one, killing nothing
There's this thing in my chest, a metaphorical thing, like a hiccup or a bump. But it's there, it's big and at times it makes it hard to breathe. I think I fucked my psychology class. Do you even know what that means?
Ridiculously, it means I suck at psychology, something that should be so easy for me is actually the worse thing in my list of brilliance. I should've passed this class no problem, but here I am, fucking up test and turning in late paper with poorly chosen topics. Ugh.
Realistically, I should have managed my time better so I could spend more time studying those similar but oh so different theories, learning how to conduct experiments better and written my paper ahead of time. It was extremely easy, but I slacked off. And the only reason I feel so bad now is because I don't want my father to tell me I'm a fuck up. (or fucking up like i did in high school).
So, what can I do?
I can still write my paper. (Even though, the teacher is not too pleased with me not having any of the materials to write said paper, and I had to ask her to email me the outline for the essay, which shows how much I've been ditching class which is not going to earn points on my essay. As much as you'd like to think it's about your work, it doesn't hurt if the teacher is fond of you, now does it?) I'm picking something with the Internet and Social Networking, which should be interesting. I'm leaning toward the negative though, cuz I is biaz lik dat.
There's one more test and I know what it's on. So I can study now and ace it when it's time.
I can stop kicking myself repeatedly for this. I know what I did wrong, and it is not incredibad like high school. I'm taking like five other psychology courses before I leave De Anza, General Psych is one stone I slipped on. (Though it is like....the basics...).
My father? Who the muffin knows. But at least he doesn't tell me I'm going to fail at life and become a hooker like my mother told me...all. the. fucking. time.
In the end, what you think of yourself is what matters, and you doing whatever it takes to find a safe place in your mind is the most important. If you've got to run, run fucking fast.
Ridiculously, it means I suck at psychology, something that should be so easy for me is actually the worse thing in my list of brilliance. I should've passed this class no problem, but here I am, fucking up test and turning in late paper with poorly chosen topics. Ugh.
Realistically, I should have managed my time better so I could spend more time studying those similar but oh so different theories, learning how to conduct experiments better and written my paper ahead of time. It was extremely easy, but I slacked off. And the only reason I feel so bad now is because I don't want my father to tell me I'm a fuck up. (or fucking up like i did in high school).
So, what can I do?
I can still write my paper. (Even though, the teacher is not too pleased with me not having any of the materials to write said paper, and I had to ask her to email me the outline for the essay, which shows how much I've been ditching class which is not going to earn points on my essay. As much as you'd like to think it's about your work, it doesn't hurt if the teacher is fond of you, now does it?) I'm picking something with the Internet and Social Networking, which should be interesting. I'm leaning toward the negative though, cuz I is biaz lik dat.
There's one more test and I know what it's on. So I can study now and ace it when it's time.
I can stop kicking myself repeatedly for this. I know what I did wrong, and it is not incredibad like high school. I'm taking like five other psychology courses before I leave De Anza, General Psych is one stone I slipped on. (Though it is like....the basics...).
My father? Who the muffin knows. But at least he doesn't tell me I'm going to fail at life and become a hooker like my mother told me...all. the. fucking. time.
In the end, what you think of yourself is what matters, and you doing whatever it takes to find a safe place in your mind is the most important. If you've got to run, run fucking fast.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Who knows what's underground
Are you what I need? Or just what I want? Someone who treads lightly between the superficial and depths or someone who flies to close to the sun? Can you show me a world I've never seen or reflect back what I've been and what I've done? Can I find security in your arms or did I just make you up? Are we here, together for the different things or are we in love? Did you fall from the heavens, a demon borne of hell,or are you just like me searching around?
I think you're lovely, no matter what you are. And if you change, my love will change with you. If you become something dark, I'll show you your light. If you become superficial, I'll show you how to grow. I'll leave when you tell me, I'll stay when you need me. I'll sleep by your side so the nightmares don't steal you. I'll try not to hurt you, directly or not and kiss your bruises better whenever you hurt.
And while I love you, we haven't met. I scared you off. Yet again.
I think you're lovely, no matter what you are. And if you change, my love will change with you. If you become something dark, I'll show you your light. If you become superficial, I'll show you how to grow. I'll leave when you tell me, I'll stay when you need me. I'll sleep by your side so the nightmares don't steal you. I'll try not to hurt you, directly or not and kiss your bruises better whenever you hurt.
And while I love you, we haven't met. I scared you off. Yet again.
Monday, October 25, 2010
The Muffin that Overdosed
Sometimes I wonder if it's just me.
Totally disillusioned with anything outside of a world created to fit my social and emotional needs, like say anything outside of a book.
Because people my age, don't read. Alright that's a gross exaggeration, but the mass majority do not frequent libraries or bookstores with the intent of leaving with a book, unless it's for school.
People my age, don't type in complete sentences with proper spelling and you'd think in a world becoming as modernized as this, spelling would be kind of important. It's the new selection-of-a-mate process.
No. No. It really is.
Sometimes I wonder why it seems so gross, this new era that's dawning upon us. With my 16 and 17 year old counterparts with their Blackberries and Androids (and don't know how to fucking use them to their fullest potential...), the people dying to be young, and the young dying to throw away their youth, how everything seems so important tomorrow and right now? We all just want a good time, no rules, no deadlines, and no names. And then I think that it's not the era at all. It's the general population of the fuck ups ruining it for the rest of us.
Totally disillusioned with anything outside of a world created to fit my social and emotional needs, like say anything outside of a book.
Because people my age, don't read. Alright that's a gross exaggeration, but the mass majority do not frequent libraries or bookstores with the intent of leaving with a book, unless it's for school.
People my age, don't type in complete sentences with proper spelling and you'd think in a world becoming as modernized as this, spelling would be kind of important. It's the new selection-of-a-mate process.
No. No. It really is.
Sometimes I wonder why it seems so gross, this new era that's dawning upon us. With my 16 and 17 year old counterparts with their Blackberries and Androids (and don't know how to fucking use them to their fullest potential...), the people dying to be young, and the young dying to throw away their youth, how everything seems so important tomorrow and right now? We all just want a good time, no rules, no deadlines, and no names. And then I think that it's not the era at all. It's the general population of the fuck ups ruining it for the rest of us.
Monday, October 18, 2010
You've got a bone to pick
It's funny how true nature always wins out. You can't hide who you really are for long. If you're a miserable person, it'll escape. If you're a positive person trying to hide under the mask of depression, you'll confuse the fuck out of people and yourself. But say you do agree with me and the true self always comes out eventually...
why do you create a mask?
It's kind of pointless isn't it? And at the end of the day, the lie is still a lie. The feelings that arose when you wore your heavily made up persona are lies, and the situations you created or took advantage of, might as well have been a dream. You get it don't you?
But you're doing it now.
If this mask theory does apply to you, you're probably sitting there thinking of where the cracks are. How to create a more flawless mask, and how to cover up your flaws with more style. But here's the thing, it won't work. Because it's too late. People are already know you and you have to offer, mask or no mask. The persona has been life and breath and soon, you're going to sink.
True happiness is not built through other people, it comes from knowing yourself better than what people suggest is the real you, being able to smile at the haters because you know what you're really made of. That tremor of a smile there, the flicker of delight because you obtained the grain of attention, it's a lie. It won't last. It's not real.
But who am I to judge?
After all, it's not like I've been through this all before, and know when a lie is dying.
And I too still wear a mask, of ignorance. Because there's no way in hell, I'm letting you in to find out what I know. But I'll rip you apart to get to your core.
You've got a bone to pick, but I've got skeletons to hide.
why do you create a mask?
It's kind of pointless isn't it? And at the end of the day, the lie is still a lie. The feelings that arose when you wore your heavily made up persona are lies, and the situations you created or took advantage of, might as well have been a dream. You get it don't you?
But you're doing it now.
If this mask theory does apply to you, you're probably sitting there thinking of where the cracks are. How to create a more flawless mask, and how to cover up your flaws with more style. But here's the thing, it won't work. Because it's too late. People are already know you and you have to offer, mask or no mask. The persona has been life and breath and soon, you're going to sink.
True happiness is not built through other people, it comes from knowing yourself better than what people suggest is the real you, being able to smile at the haters because you know what you're really made of. That tremor of a smile there, the flicker of delight because you obtained the grain of attention, it's a lie. It won't last. It's not real.
But who am I to judge?
After all, it's not like I've been through this all before, and know when a lie is dying.
And I too still wear a mask, of ignorance. Because there's no way in hell, I'm letting you in to find out what I know. But I'll rip you apart to get to your core.
You've got a bone to pick, but I've got skeletons to hide.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Today can just die.
Today is a day where I bitch about how horrible today is.
"And how is that different from any other day?" I hear you shout silently. It just is.
Getting out of bed before noon is not something I make a habit of. I wake up six to drop my sisters to school and then sleep. Simply because I don't sleep until after I drop the twins anyway.
I had plans and they got changed because I was trying to be a good friend and I have a tendency of putting people before myself.
So schedule is set back an hour and I want to go find a little pick me up. A magazine. Because magazines are sort of my outlet. I tear them up, and put them back together in a way with a metaphorical meaning. Look how artsy I am. But when I picked up my little cheap Glamour UK, I saw the new Vogue Italia issue. And not just any issue, a bundle. Five magazines featuring haute couture and a variety of other goodies. My heart lurched. I needed it. Why? Because it would make me feel good, like there was hope in this day not being shitty. Oh...but no.
There wasn't enough money on my card.
....
...
..
.
NO MAGAZINE FOR ME.
So I do what every self respecting girl would do. I spend the money I do have on something I don't need.
Cigarettes and monster.
Now. I don't have enough money to finish out the week. And I'm pretty sure I can't ask my father for money unti thursday? Probably.
Great.
Now I'm weak, sweaty and tired.
And it all started with a plate of linguini and a glass of wine.
"And how is that different from any other day?" I hear you shout silently. It just is.
Getting out of bed before noon is not something I make a habit of. I wake up six to drop my sisters to school and then sleep. Simply because I don't sleep until after I drop the twins anyway.
I had plans and they got changed because I was trying to be a good friend and I have a tendency of putting people before myself.
So schedule is set back an hour and I want to go find a little pick me up. A magazine. Because magazines are sort of my outlet. I tear them up, and put them back together in a way with a metaphorical meaning. Look how artsy I am. But when I picked up my little cheap Glamour UK, I saw the new Vogue Italia issue. And not just any issue, a bundle. Five magazines featuring haute couture and a variety of other goodies. My heart lurched. I needed it. Why? Because it would make me feel good, like there was hope in this day not being shitty. Oh...but no.
There wasn't enough money on my card.
....
...
..
.
NO MAGAZINE FOR ME.
So I do what every self respecting girl would do. I spend the money I do have on something I don't need.
Cigarettes and monster.
Now. I don't have enough money to finish out the week. And I'm pretty sure I can't ask my father for money unti thursday? Probably.
Great.
Now I'm weak, sweaty and tired.
And it all started with a plate of linguini and a glass of wine.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Killing the Diva, Rasing the Z
I lack substence. And that's something I've been afraid of. I've been coasting on common ground (like school), style (the Diva) and people's interest in something that doesn't necessarily have to do with me, a person (sex, teasing).
I've been relying on such a strong characteristic of style to speak volumes for me. The Diva is a crutch. I'm addicted to her, and being her. The attention. That's all she thrives on, that's all she is. And that's all people see. That isn't the person I should strive to be. Correction: that isn't the person I want to be.
So how do you fix something that's defined you for a good deal of your life? How do you kill a part of you that worms its way out into the open and doesn't go queitly?
With a shotgun, that's how.
But really? Finding substence. Learning about things, developing a real interest in things and existing not as a doll, but as human being. But I don't know the first thing about that.
And maybe that's a consequence of surrounding myself with people who didn't ask for more of me. We satisfied ourselves on simply being a mirror that reflected the size of our egos and nothing more. Ugh. There's so much work to do.
So I'll learn. And I'll learn fast. It's the fear of losing my place in society as an actual person that overrides the fear of not being an interesting person. It's the fear of being loved for something people don't know isn't there. Looking at what I've got now, I don't have anything to lose.
Oy muffins.
I've been relying on such a strong characteristic of style to speak volumes for me. The Diva is a crutch. I'm addicted to her, and being her. The attention. That's all she thrives on, that's all she is. And that's all people see. That isn't the person I should strive to be. Correction: that isn't the person I want to be.
So how do you fix something that's defined you for a good deal of your life? How do you kill a part of you that worms its way out into the open and doesn't go queitly?
With a shotgun, that's how.
But really? Finding substence. Learning about things, developing a real interest in things and existing not as a doll, but as human being. But I don't know the first thing about that.
And maybe that's a consequence of surrounding myself with people who didn't ask for more of me. We satisfied ourselves on simply being a mirror that reflected the size of our egos and nothing more. Ugh. There's so much work to do.
So I'll learn. And I'll learn fast. It's the fear of losing my place in society as an actual person that overrides the fear of not being an interesting person. It's the fear of being loved for something people don't know isn't there. Looking at what I've got now, I don't have anything to lose.
Oy muffins.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Weirdness
That is a particularly brand of people that excells and prides itself on being the weirdest they possibly can be. Why? How? And is it socially acceptable.
I'm weird. I choose to define myself as weird. I dress like a pimp in drag make up for god's sake. I'm morbid. I'm entertained by things that leave people disgruntled. I take my parents' frowning at my appearance as a compliment and I bathe in the stares of passer by. But in all honesty I'm not weird.
Weird simply sounds better than normal. To me at least. And if you're a friend of mine, clearly it sounds better to you too. Because really, in this day and age who wants to be cut from the same cloth as everyone else? I don't. I want to be cut from the clouds on Mount Olympus, with the little pony from Hercules by my side.
For the true "freaks" of this era, it isn't for attention, though we love it. It isn't for fame, or attention, or love, or attention. See where I'm going with this? We stand out, because you put us in category that is seperate from what you know to be normal. That's all. We see someone like us, it's going to be a rocking good time. We see you staring at us with your mouth all agape, we're going to wink and shimmy and be delightful. We see you imitate us because you don't have an inkling of personality to speak of, we're going to stick you in the heart with a sneer and scoff.
So it's not us, that are weird. Oh no no no. Sweetie, that's all you.
I'm weird. I choose to define myself as weird. I dress like a pimp in drag make up for god's sake. I'm morbid. I'm entertained by things that leave people disgruntled. I take my parents' frowning at my appearance as a compliment and I bathe in the stares of passer by. But in all honesty I'm not weird.
Weird simply sounds better than normal. To me at least. And if you're a friend of mine, clearly it sounds better to you too. Because really, in this day and age who wants to be cut from the same cloth as everyone else? I don't. I want to be cut from the clouds on Mount Olympus, with the little pony from Hercules by my side.
For the true "freaks" of this era, it isn't for attention, though we love it. It isn't for fame, or attention, or love, or attention. See where I'm going with this? We stand out, because you put us in category that is seperate from what you know to be normal. That's all. We see someone like us, it's going to be a rocking good time. We see you staring at us with your mouth all agape, we're going to wink and shimmy and be delightful. We see you imitate us because you don't have an inkling of personality to speak of, we're going to stick you in the heart with a sneer and scoff.
So it's not us, that are weird. Oh no no no. Sweetie, that's all you.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
I shot the sheriff
You see, there's this thing. Called your mind.
It typically works in a certain way.
When something unfavorable happens you are conditioned to react a certain way.
Your past experiences affect your reaction greatly.
For example:
If as a child your parents fought, and it upset you. The sounds and tones used in that situation will continue to upset you in your progression through and to adulthood. Even if the original parties are not involved.
My parents fought consistently for a couple years before the divorce. And being a curious child I always listened. I was curious. Now, as my parents have been divorced for several years, explitives such as "Fuck" and "Bitch" still send my heart racing. It makes me so uneasy, I've replaced those same words in my language to "muffin" and "kitten". Call it a coping mechanism if you will.
It's interesting to see how similar people are once you really break it down. We all have problems with relationships. We all are afraid we cannot be loved. We all need to feel loved. The difference comes in in how obtain our so called idea of love.
Mine? I'm not sure. Being the person that I am, I am either absolutely enthralled with you and will go to anything lengths to please you or I generally keep a firm wall of no emotional exposure on my part, and complete and a total emotional poker face when helping you through your moments. It could be abandonment. My mother essentially abandoned me, so there's a longing for maternal care I possess and try to impose on people. It could be simply allowing myself to become disillusioned with the idea of absolute trust stemming from disappointment. It may even have something to do with that pesky inconsistent emotional and intellectual confindence.
Why this topic for tonight? Simple. Extremely emotinal problems do not bother me when I can take them on one at a time. But that's never the way it is, is it? One becomes several and then my inability to cope makes me 1)impulsive and 2) withdrawn. I cannot stand generally angry people or generally unhappy people who never say anything positive and in a world where communication is so wired, what you say holds a lot of sway with people. I happen to be surrounded with these sorts of people. They critize me for their own faults, accuse me of traits I don't possess and believe they know how I'll act in a certain situation. That's another type of person I can't stand, people who think they know you and then never take in the new information of what you aren't.
I'm a typically good person. I can be bitchy, selfish, and indifferent at times but that's on occassion. The sum of my parts should cancel out the stupidity people seem think is there. Eventually, if you and I have been friends long enough and you fall into one of the categories above, you'll see I no longer will care what answer I give you. You essentially make up the story to fit your personal image of me. And that's not to say you have a vendetta against me, that's simply how you are. I can't bothered to be truthful with people who don't acknowledge the truth itself.
Once upon a time, I believed there was something wrong with me. I had to be sick, because people were unhappy with me regardless of what I did. I got so wrapped in pleasing other people, I forgot how to please myself, as cliche as that is. But the further away I got from the source of my depression and anxiety, the less I saw wrong with myself, the more I saw me for what I truly was. Sometimes, being back in California and not in Trinidad, I need to remind myself that I am a truly brilliant person and not the wicked harlot that people seem to love to associate with me.
For all those people with relationship problems, here's a touch of advice.
The more you yell, the less they hear.
but I did not shoot no deputy.
It typically works in a certain way.
When something unfavorable happens you are conditioned to react a certain way.
Your past experiences affect your reaction greatly.
For example:
If as a child your parents fought, and it upset you. The sounds and tones used in that situation will continue to upset you in your progression through and to adulthood. Even if the original parties are not involved.
My parents fought consistently for a couple years before the divorce. And being a curious child I always listened. I was curious. Now, as my parents have been divorced for several years, explitives such as "Fuck" and "Bitch" still send my heart racing. It makes me so uneasy, I've replaced those same words in my language to "muffin" and "kitten". Call it a coping mechanism if you will.
It's interesting to see how similar people are once you really break it down. We all have problems with relationships. We all are afraid we cannot be loved. We all need to feel loved. The difference comes in in how obtain our so called idea of love.
Mine? I'm not sure. Being the person that I am, I am either absolutely enthralled with you and will go to anything lengths to please you or I generally keep a firm wall of no emotional exposure on my part, and complete and a total emotional poker face when helping you through your moments. It could be abandonment. My mother essentially abandoned me, so there's a longing for maternal care I possess and try to impose on people. It could be simply allowing myself to become disillusioned with the idea of absolute trust stemming from disappointment. It may even have something to do with that pesky inconsistent emotional and intellectual confindence.
Why this topic for tonight? Simple. Extremely emotinal problems do not bother me when I can take them on one at a time. But that's never the way it is, is it? One becomes several and then my inability to cope makes me 1)impulsive and 2) withdrawn. I cannot stand generally angry people or generally unhappy people who never say anything positive and in a world where communication is so wired, what you say holds a lot of sway with people. I happen to be surrounded with these sorts of people. They critize me for their own faults, accuse me of traits I don't possess and believe they know how I'll act in a certain situation. That's another type of person I can't stand, people who think they know you and then never take in the new information of what you aren't.
I'm a typically good person. I can be bitchy, selfish, and indifferent at times but that's on occassion. The sum of my parts should cancel out the stupidity people seem think is there. Eventually, if you and I have been friends long enough and you fall into one of the categories above, you'll see I no longer will care what answer I give you. You essentially make up the story to fit your personal image of me. And that's not to say you have a vendetta against me, that's simply how you are. I can't bothered to be truthful with people who don't acknowledge the truth itself.
Once upon a time, I believed there was something wrong with me. I had to be sick, because people were unhappy with me regardless of what I did. I got so wrapped in pleasing other people, I forgot how to please myself, as cliche as that is. But the further away I got from the source of my depression and anxiety, the less I saw wrong with myself, the more I saw me for what I truly was. Sometimes, being back in California and not in Trinidad, I need to remind myself that I am a truly brilliant person and not the wicked harlot that people seem to love to associate with me.
For all those people with relationship problems, here's a touch of advice.
The more you yell, the less they hear.
but I did not shoot no deputy.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
early morning wandering
SO I can’t fall asleep till I write this. It’ll just nag me until it escapes into the world that is the internet.
Emotionally, anything that bothers me I’m never going to tell you when it actually bothers me. Last night I seriously just didn’t want to go home and be myself and cry myself to sleep again, because of some social disturbance that I couldn’t rectify by the sheer power that is Z. So I went to my friend’s house, but I couldn’t talk to him about it. Because 1) he’s not the problem, so he’s not the answer. 2) He probably won’t care enough to help me. So I just repressed it and tried to cheer myself up.
But I don’t tell people anything really. Does anyone? Why not? I’m sure almost all our problems could easily be resolved if we could just accept people and understand where they’re coming from. But no one tells anyone anything, it’s all guess work and life shouldn’t really be trial and error. It should be peaceful and full of self contentedness. It’s like we’re working against each other subconsciously.
Maybe I am just a whore and lack the emotional depth to form any intellectual relationship with people. I mean, that’s why the people I would like to be friends with won’t allow that to happen, because they can see through the pretentious mask that is Diva. But I’m beginning to doubt the mask concept that is the Diva. Maybe I am more like her than I’m willing to accept. My Halloween costume is a slutty school girl where midriff is bare and the skirt doesn’t even come down to mid thigh. Let’s not even get into how much of my bra we can see. But here’s the werid thing. I’m totally comfortable with it. I have a wonderful body and I feel totally comfortable being exposed in public. But it’s so frowned upon it scares me. I mean if you know me then you know that this is a wow thing, not like “Oh she is slut, so this is like her uniform when she’s working the room”. I doubt my attractiveness because I’m always by myself and have yet to be kidnapped. And it’s not like it would be hard. I weigh nothing. No muscle to speak of. And nobody is going to save me. Lol
Maybe that’s what bothers me the most, because no matter what I do no one gives a shit about me, but I find myself pleasing people and flattering their egos. All my relationships are like that, except for two. And that’s only because we’re so alike our problems don’t get in the way of our relationship. Probably because I didn’t bother tell people the truth anymore. Even more recently I don’t care who knows my secrets now. Being honest is relieving, yet discouraging. I’m setting up walls and keeping people at a sexual distance. It’s not even satisfying anymore. I haven’t been turned on since I left for Trinidad. No interest what so ever. Funny, all that the people that used to act like they wanted to get to know me, now don’t bother because there’s no sex there. But I’m not satisfied because I didn’t get to delve into their minds and their personal lives and live vicariously through them.
And there is one guy who could possibly get through to me and show me how none of this is true. I’ve got a wicked personality, an attitude to be reckoned with, and an exotic beauty that is unmatched. But there’s no conviction there sweeties. Not one iota.
Maybe I don't know who I am anymore, not because I'm confused or lost, but I simply don't care really. Interesting.
Emotionally, anything that bothers me I’m never going to tell you when it actually bothers me. Last night I seriously just didn’t want to go home and be myself and cry myself to sleep again, because of some social disturbance that I couldn’t rectify by the sheer power that is Z. So I went to my friend’s house, but I couldn’t talk to him about it. Because 1) he’s not the problem, so he’s not the answer. 2) He probably won’t care enough to help me. So I just repressed it and tried to cheer myself up.
But I don’t tell people anything really. Does anyone? Why not? I’m sure almost all our problems could easily be resolved if we could just accept people and understand where they’re coming from. But no one tells anyone anything, it’s all guess work and life shouldn’t really be trial and error. It should be peaceful and full of self contentedness. It’s like we’re working against each other subconsciously.
Maybe I am just a whore and lack the emotional depth to form any intellectual relationship with people. I mean, that’s why the people I would like to be friends with won’t allow that to happen, because they can see through the pretentious mask that is Diva. But I’m beginning to doubt the mask concept that is the Diva. Maybe I am more like her than I’m willing to accept. My Halloween costume is a slutty school girl where midriff is bare and the skirt doesn’t even come down to mid thigh. Let’s not even get into how much of my bra we can see. But here’s the werid thing. I’m totally comfortable with it. I have a wonderful body and I feel totally comfortable being exposed in public. But it’s so frowned upon it scares me. I mean if you know me then you know that this is a wow thing, not like “Oh she is slut, so this is like her uniform when she’s working the room”. I doubt my attractiveness because I’m always by myself and have yet to be kidnapped. And it’s not like it would be hard. I weigh nothing. No muscle to speak of. And nobody is going to save me. Lol
Maybe that’s what bothers me the most, because no matter what I do no one gives a shit about me, but I find myself pleasing people and flattering their egos. All my relationships are like that, except for two. And that’s only because we’re so alike our problems don’t get in the way of our relationship. Probably because I didn’t bother tell people the truth anymore. Even more recently I don’t care who knows my secrets now. Being honest is relieving, yet discouraging. I’m setting up walls and keeping people at a sexual distance. It’s not even satisfying anymore. I haven’t been turned on since I left for Trinidad. No interest what so ever. Funny, all that the people that used to act like they wanted to get to know me, now don’t bother because there’s no sex there. But I’m not satisfied because I didn’t get to delve into their minds and their personal lives and live vicariously through them.
And there is one guy who could possibly get through to me and show me how none of this is true. I’ve got a wicked personality, an attitude to be reckoned with, and an exotic beauty that is unmatched. But there’s no conviction there sweeties. Not one iota.
Maybe I don't know who I am anymore, not because I'm confused or lost, but I simply don't care really. Interesting.
Monday, October 4, 2010
The Changelings
“It’s happening again.”
“Fuck.” Luci reached for the syringe to administer the glamour. The new girl was up to six shots a day, twice the normal amount.
“No I don’t want an injection!” Bianca cried out. “I can’t stand how it feels.”
Gabriel, Julian, and Marcus watched as Luci wrestled with the young girl. “We’re out of pills. Either you take this or you change. God damn it! Help you bastards.”
Gabriel laughed. “You seem to be doing just fine on your own.”
The sight was ridiculous. Lucinda barely weighed anything compared to the tall, muscular girl beneath her. She’d pinned her down onto the pavement behind the Razor Bubble dance club, but couldn’t release Bianca’s hands for fear she’d knock her over. And the boys did nothing but watch and laugh.
“Pig headed sons of bitches.” Growled Lucinda. “Stay still, damn it!”
“No! I’ll change then! Don’t stick me with that fucking needle!” With a buck of her hips she sent Lucinda flying backwards against the wall. She ducked behind a dumpster, howling as the change took her.
“Where…the fuck…did you find her?” Lucinda gasped. Blood slowly trickling down her neck into her jacket. She took her scarf to stop the bleeding. “She’s like a wild animal.”
“She’s no worse than you were you’re first change.” Marcus chuckled. “ Then again, you were a hell lot easier to restrain.”
“But restraining the beast,” She gestured to Bianca, “would just look straight up questionable, wouldn’t it?”
Marcus sighed with dismay. “You know how it would look, Luci.”
“Hmph.”
In the corner by the dumpster, Bianca was panting. Without the glamour to suppress the change, or the pills to numb it, it was spreading through her like a virus on crack. She’s seen the others change, looking like angels dipped in black, grey and gold paint with wings that stretched on for days, and the twins, Lucinda and Julian had tails. A tail! But Bianca had never changed. She didn’t know what to expect.
“I don’t hear any bones popping.” Julian noted. “Or anymore screams, either.”
“Come out Bianca.” Marcus called. She peeked around the corner, to see the boys had turned their backs and Lucinda stood waiting with a dress. That’s right, she thought, when they changed their clothes no longer fit.
“Do you think that if we changed too, it would make her more comfortable?” Asked Lucinda softly. Changing into their other form was one thing, changing back was hell on earth. But Marcus shook his head.
Bianca took a cautious step forward into the dim street lamp and waited for them to gasp in horror. Her eyes had been closed through the entire change, and when she heard nothing, no comment, no awe, no gasp, she looked down to see her leg was exactly the same.
“Marcus…?” Lucinda cocked her head to the side. “We have a problem with the beast.”
“Fuck.” Luci reached for the syringe to administer the glamour. The new girl was up to six shots a day, twice the normal amount.
“No I don’t want an injection!” Bianca cried out. “I can’t stand how it feels.”
Gabriel, Julian, and Marcus watched as Luci wrestled with the young girl. “We’re out of pills. Either you take this or you change. God damn it! Help you bastards.”
Gabriel laughed. “You seem to be doing just fine on your own.”
The sight was ridiculous. Lucinda barely weighed anything compared to the tall, muscular girl beneath her. She’d pinned her down onto the pavement behind the Razor Bubble dance club, but couldn’t release Bianca’s hands for fear she’d knock her over. And the boys did nothing but watch and laugh.
“Pig headed sons of bitches.” Growled Lucinda. “Stay still, damn it!”
“No! I’ll change then! Don’t stick me with that fucking needle!” With a buck of her hips she sent Lucinda flying backwards against the wall. She ducked behind a dumpster, howling as the change took her.
“Where…the fuck…did you find her?” Lucinda gasped. Blood slowly trickling down her neck into her jacket. She took her scarf to stop the bleeding. “She’s like a wild animal.”
“She’s no worse than you were you’re first change.” Marcus chuckled. “ Then again, you were a hell lot easier to restrain.”
“But restraining the beast,” She gestured to Bianca, “would just look straight up questionable, wouldn’t it?”
Marcus sighed with dismay. “You know how it would look, Luci.”
“Hmph.”
In the corner by the dumpster, Bianca was panting. Without the glamour to suppress the change, or the pills to numb it, it was spreading through her like a virus on crack. She’s seen the others change, looking like angels dipped in black, grey and gold paint with wings that stretched on for days, and the twins, Lucinda and Julian had tails. A tail! But Bianca had never changed. She didn’t know what to expect.
“I don’t hear any bones popping.” Julian noted. “Or anymore screams, either.”
“Come out Bianca.” Marcus called. She peeked around the corner, to see the boys had turned their backs and Lucinda stood waiting with a dress. That’s right, she thought, when they changed their clothes no longer fit.
“Do you think that if we changed too, it would make her more comfortable?” Asked Lucinda softly. Changing into their other form was one thing, changing back was hell on earth. But Marcus shook his head.
Bianca took a cautious step forward into the dim street lamp and waited for them to gasp in horror. Her eyes had been closed through the entire change, and when she heard nothing, no comment, no awe, no gasp, she looked down to see her leg was exactly the same.
“Marcus…?” Lucinda cocked her head to the side. “We have a problem with the beast.”
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
The Angel with an assault rifle
I think of my role models at times like this.
Lady Gaga (a questionable but still very relevant role model)
Poppy Z. Brite (because she's morbid as muffins)
Russel Brand (because he's weird as mutant muffins)
Why is it my role models are people I've never met? And more importantly people who either a) are going through a wonky phase and will normal out eventually or b) the biggest attention whores in the history of pop culture?
I don't know. At 1am my brain begins to wander. Grand Total of Friends for the summer? 0.
And I bitch and moan about this a lot. Probably more than I actually need to, but when I think about it, there's only three people I can actually enjoy the company of and I am down right terrified of having to lie to someone to get away from them.
The simple equation still stands to be proven wrong: my liking someone > someone liking me.
Perhaps it's the mirror I broke freshman year, or the dynamic change from drama tease to silent psycho. But don't let the internet be your guide here.
No. The tone you read this with will most likely come across as highly negative. It isn't. It's indifferent. You see, me and emotions don't really get along. Must be these soulless black eyes, mmm yummy. Why this topic for a post tonight?
Tonight on the news, there was a report about a study where women and stress are bad together. Oh yes. Very bad. Stress in itself is bad. But women have so much more to deal with besides the recession and children. It's hard carrying a uterus. TO solve stress, simply drink red wine (but not too much), exercise, and be social. People who are social live longer. Which makes sense, because generally things that bring pleasure into your life aren't causing stress, stress kills, therefore pleasure makes you live longer. I drink red wine. I exercise. But I'm not social. Not if you actually know me. I'm picky, and shallow, and a bitch. But if you're intelligent, good looking and tolerate my weirdness (and give me cookies) I take it upon myself to be your guardian angel.
Do I have an angel? No.
Do I want an angel? Maybe.
Do I need an angel? Yes. I'm simply a hazard to the world if left to my own devices.
Deep down in the place of my soul where wishes blossom, I hope that this De Anza thing will bring with it a new armada of interesting people worthy of calling friend. I'm incredibly happy all my classes are in the evening though. I work so much better at night.
Lady Gaga (a questionable but still very relevant role model)
Poppy Z. Brite (because she's morbid as muffins)
Russel Brand (because he's weird as mutant muffins)
Why is it my role models are people I've never met? And more importantly people who either a) are going through a wonky phase and will normal out eventually or b) the biggest attention whores in the history of pop culture?
I don't know. At 1am my brain begins to wander. Grand Total of Friends for the summer? 0.
And I bitch and moan about this a lot. Probably more than I actually need to, but when I think about it, there's only three people I can actually enjoy the company of and I am down right terrified of having to lie to someone to get away from them.
The simple equation still stands to be proven wrong: my liking someone > someone liking me.
Perhaps it's the mirror I broke freshman year, or the dynamic change from drama tease to silent psycho. But don't let the internet be your guide here.
No. The tone you read this with will most likely come across as highly negative. It isn't. It's indifferent. You see, me and emotions don't really get along. Must be these soulless black eyes, mmm yummy. Why this topic for a post tonight?
Tonight on the news, there was a report about a study where women and stress are bad together. Oh yes. Very bad. Stress in itself is bad. But women have so much more to deal with besides the recession and children. It's hard carrying a uterus. TO solve stress, simply drink red wine (but not too much), exercise, and be social. People who are social live longer. Which makes sense, because generally things that bring pleasure into your life aren't causing stress, stress kills, therefore pleasure makes you live longer. I drink red wine. I exercise. But I'm not social. Not if you actually know me. I'm picky, and shallow, and a bitch. But if you're intelligent, good looking and tolerate my weirdness (and give me cookies) I take it upon myself to be your guardian angel.
Do I have an angel? No.
Do I want an angel? Maybe.
Do I need an angel? Yes. I'm simply a hazard to the world if left to my own devices.
Deep down in the place of my soul where wishes blossom, I hope that this De Anza thing will bring with it a new armada of interesting people worthy of calling friend. I'm incredibly happy all my classes are in the evening though. I work so much better at night.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Lashing out like a cat on fire
I don't like to talk to people about how and what i'm feeling. Usually I just lash out at anyone who comes close enough and fuck up that friendship, only to return ten minutes later to apologize. /sigh will I ever learn?
Haven't talked to anyone really since I got back. Except 4 people I consider essential to my existence. I could make more friends. That's not hard. But keeping them...I tend to lose interest within a few hours? Days? I'm running out of distractions to help time pass and I don't even know what I'm running from. My past maybe? But I don't even remember that. It seems like some far off dream, even though it was only a few months. Maybe I'm blinded by jealousy. That might be it. And I never really understood how it comes up and how to kill it. Is it fear? Or maybe, just maybe I'm actually normal and there's nothing wrong with me just that I want something to be.
Before the trip, I was in love with the thought of my death. Like it was constantly on my mind, thinking about open the car door and sliding out on to the pavement, going for a late night drive and slamming into a wall or off a hill side. And I'm small so pretty much anything will kill me. And the reason none of that came to be? Simply the fear of not having anyone come to my funeral. Because death by itself is pretty lonely, but if no one came in my last few minutes above ground? Well then I've been dead a very long time. And who would make sure the right people knew about my death? What about Prava and Jeremy, and maybe even Jacob? See most of friends don't even know who they are.
After the trip, I stopped caring about my death, and the lack of actual friends I had and Kayleena and Lawrence helped with that I guess. But Kay's gone, Lawrence is leaving, and now my father is leaving for Trinidad soon. I don't remember exactly what I was trying achieve here. By one, coming back to California in the first place, and two being Zakkarrii. But I don't think I'm that person anymore. The drama queen, attention whore, bad Lady Gaga remake. Nope. Don't see any traces of that.
Maybe my biggest fear is slipping back into that person. It feels like standing in the dark, with a door to the past just ajar and tempting. I could go back to what I know. Or I could keep going further into the dark and finding out the presently unknown.
Or I could sit and smoke and waste more time than ever. Lol. Decisions, decisions.
Haven't talked to anyone really since I got back. Except 4 people I consider essential to my existence. I could make more friends. That's not hard. But keeping them...I tend to lose interest within a few hours? Days? I'm running out of distractions to help time pass and I don't even know what I'm running from. My past maybe? But I don't even remember that. It seems like some far off dream, even though it was only a few months. Maybe I'm blinded by jealousy. That might be it. And I never really understood how it comes up and how to kill it. Is it fear? Or maybe, just maybe I'm actually normal and there's nothing wrong with me just that I want something to be.
Before the trip, I was in love with the thought of my death. Like it was constantly on my mind, thinking about open the car door and sliding out on to the pavement, going for a late night drive and slamming into a wall or off a hill side. And I'm small so pretty much anything will kill me. And the reason none of that came to be? Simply the fear of not having anyone come to my funeral. Because death by itself is pretty lonely, but if no one came in my last few minutes above ground? Well then I've been dead a very long time. And who would make sure the right people knew about my death? What about Prava and Jeremy, and maybe even Jacob? See most of friends don't even know who they are.
After the trip, I stopped caring about my death, and the lack of actual friends I had and Kayleena and Lawrence helped with that I guess. But Kay's gone, Lawrence is leaving, and now my father is leaving for Trinidad soon. I don't remember exactly what I was trying achieve here. By one, coming back to California in the first place, and two being Zakkarrii. But I don't think I'm that person anymore. The drama queen, attention whore, bad Lady Gaga remake. Nope. Don't see any traces of that.
Maybe my biggest fear is slipping back into that person. It feels like standing in the dark, with a door to the past just ajar and tempting. I could go back to what I know. Or I could keep going further into the dark and finding out the presently unknown.
Or I could sit and smoke and waste more time than ever. Lol. Decisions, decisions.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Learning the trade.
SO I didn't go the fashion show. I was yelled at on first day in Trinidad, because people didn't collaborate together to make something work. But it's okay. I'm going to look up pictures and see that it's not as big as John Galliano's shows and feel better. Ash will have a good time. I probably won't see her for while I'm here. I probably won't see Ravi again, but that's how it's supposed to be. I'm too young for him and he's got a life. I just want to go out and party and drink till I can't stand up straight. LIke i did last summer....I just want to sleep. July 17th won't come soon enough. Like everything that's supposed to be good in my life, it's just a disappointment. I wish I brought my medication so I wouldn't have to feel anything.
Or better yet. That I had just waited to come down with my mom. Shame though, he was incredibly lovely to be around.
Jesse's just leading me on with coming here. So why am I so disappointed? MAybe this is what I get for not going to SFSU, for being the best that I could be. Day one of a fucked up month and a half complete.
Did I mention that I can't smoke because all the doors are locked with one pound heavy weights? Fun. My mood regulators are out.
Or better yet. That I had just waited to come down with my mom. Shame though, he was incredibly lovely to be around.
Jesse's just leading me on with coming here. So why am I so disappointed? MAybe this is what I get for not going to SFSU, for being the best that I could be. Day one of a fucked up month and a half complete.
Did I mention that I can't smoke because all the doors are locked with one pound heavy weights? Fun. My mood regulators are out.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Departure Part 1 (San Jose to LAX)
Sitting at the terminal an hour prior to boarding, I've begun to wonder. What made facebook popular? There's hardly a thing about it that would cause the entire population of computer consumers to freak out if it crashed, disappeared, died. It doesn't even allow for personality to shine through. It's a one size fits all type of of gig, and you know what's curious? If people actually stopped to think about it, they would see that they are exercising their herd mentality.
And who am I to sit on your fragile little dreams of individuality? Why, I'm the person who joins these social networking sites at a year before you even know it exists. Maybe that's why I have such a negative perspective. The second it becomes of remote interest to the general public I want out. It loses the value that made me fall in love with it in the first place.
I need a smoke before they send me up to the air. Ick. Designated smoking area? Airports are not smoker friendly.
And who am I to sit on your fragile little dreams of individuality? Why, I'm the person who joins these social networking sites at a year before you even know it exists. Maybe that's why I have such a negative perspective. The second it becomes of remote interest to the general public I want out. It loses the value that made me fall in love with it in the first place.
I need a smoke before they send me up to the air. Ick. Designated smoking area? Airports are not smoker friendly.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
The End of an Era
You know, this graduating business seems like tricky business. All the emotions tied to it, you'd think that I would feel something. But I don't. I've come to terms with my good byes, my disappointments, my brilliance radiating on the blessed few. It's over, let's move on. I'm finished.
But the thing that bothers me most of all, is that my entire high school career has gone full circle. Freshman year, I was in English class with three girls singing Yellow Submarine. Senior year, I was with those same girls singing Chasing Pavements. The boys who I fell for are almost a perfect mirror image of each other. The confidence, the way it shone, the way it died and the way it grew again, not to what it once, but better...it's all just astounding. And yet while that may seem trival to some of you, my looking too deep into things, it fits perfectly, because through it all, I did whatever it is that I wanted to do and the era of our youngin' days ending, just shows how much I need to cling to that.
Lovely. Now on to this traveling business.
I'm terrified. I've never traveled alone before and it's not like going you know, Florida or something. It's a different flippsy country. "Flippsy" here having the meaning of an explicative not an insult to the country and its cultural values. Trinidadians are entirely different from the people I know. How do I know this? Simple, the way my cousin behaved when she was here. Stranger comes up and chats you up, polite, open, warming. Our take on the same situation, is grab your purse, defend yourself verbally, and have 911 on speed dial. And why is that? I don't know. Seems silly now that I think about it. I'm also afraid that I won't be able to keep myself amused long enough before I start to yearn for human entertainment, like you know communication. And worsty of all! I'm getting sickish. My tummy has been upset all day and I can barely talk. *pouts*
I know right? Poor me.
Off to the librachie to get my read on. Au revior pets.
But the thing that bothers me most of all, is that my entire high school career has gone full circle. Freshman year, I was in English class with three girls singing Yellow Submarine. Senior year, I was with those same girls singing Chasing Pavements. The boys who I fell for are almost a perfect mirror image of each other. The confidence, the way it shone, the way it died and the way it grew again, not to what it once, but better...it's all just astounding. And yet while that may seem trival to some of you, my looking too deep into things, it fits perfectly, because through it all, I did whatever it is that I wanted to do and the era of our youngin' days ending, just shows how much I need to cling to that.
Lovely. Now on to this traveling business.
I'm terrified. I've never traveled alone before and it's not like going you know, Florida or something. It's a different flippsy country. "Flippsy" here having the meaning of an explicative not an insult to the country and its cultural values. Trinidadians are entirely different from the people I know. How do I know this? Simple, the way my cousin behaved when she was here. Stranger comes up and chats you up, polite, open, warming. Our take on the same situation, is grab your purse, defend yourself verbally, and have 911 on speed dial. And why is that? I don't know. Seems silly now that I think about it. I'm also afraid that I won't be able to keep myself amused long enough before I start to yearn for human entertainment, like you know communication. And worsty of all! I'm getting sickish. My tummy has been upset all day and I can barely talk. *pouts*
I know right? Poor me.
Off to the librachie to get my read on. Au revior pets.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Opening up, Looking in.
They all had dark eyes, every color of the rainbow. Lucinda's was violet, Julian's green, Gabriel's a wicked shade of blue, and the Youngest's was orange. They kept their eyes narrow, for if eyes are the window to the soul, shouldn't they be able to decide who comes in?
Lucinda, the original Youngest, sat far across the room from her. She was disturbed by the child's silent nature. People who kept quiet either knew more than they let on or knew nothing at all. She couldn't be trusted. And as Julian almost shared his twin sister's feelings toward the newcomer, he knew they should treat her kindly, and show her the ways of the City. But neither Gabriel or Lucinda would allow that, talking in their backwards ways to confuse the observant child.
"Have you ever wondered that maybe it's someone to blame for what happened to us?" Lucinda whispered. Gabriel scoffed.
"They had a chance to save us from ourselves, and look what they did. Turn their backs on us without a second glance. And yet of all the people in this godforsaken City, you keep going back. They don't want us."
This used to be a blow to Lucinda, a feeling as if being stabbed in the heart would blossom in her chest, but tonight there was no feeling. She had successfully nummbed herself to that pain. "No. There's something there. I need to know."
The child frowned. Reason. Curiosity. That's what drove Lucinda.
"But," Julian joined in, looking apologetic to the Youngest, "If you're asking that question, you already know the answer. You always do."
"I just want to proven wrong."
Gabriel's sarcastic amusement diminished into annnoyance. He shook his red dredlocks, "Maybe two months ago, you would've been wrong. But after what we did, and what they've done. There's no way you couldn't be wrong now..."
"What are you talking about?" A small voice came from the lips of the child nestled in the couch. Jack, their gaurdian, had dressed her in white, like a doll, which Lucinda found entirely too eerie for her. "Who are they? Why does Luci care about them? Why is Gabriel mad?"
Gabriel looked at Lucinda, "Don't answer. She's aiming for ann emotional opening. Did you catch the tone?"
Julian tried to defend her, but it lacked conviction. "Oh come Gabe. She's just a child."
"And so were we. We were the same age as she when we started. But people were dumber then, and had no idea what we wanted."
Regret. Sorrow. Confusion. This is what gripped them and they protected themselves by being distant. It was...pitiful.
"How cold." Lucinda stared directly into the child's eyes. "You think because we're distant, we're to be pitied. But we're not distant because we're hurt. Not entirely. We're distant to present a challenge. How far would you go to get in? How much do you really want to know?"
"Seems like you're asking a lot of people who don't know you, yet. Why not be open?"
Julian and Gabriel who had been day dreaming, immediately turned to Lucinda at the word "open". It was a part of Luci's problem, opening up. But she laughed. "Why don't you be open with us and see where the problem really lies?"
Lucinda, the original Youngest, sat far across the room from her. She was disturbed by the child's silent nature. People who kept quiet either knew more than they let on or knew nothing at all. She couldn't be trusted. And as Julian almost shared his twin sister's feelings toward the newcomer, he knew they should treat her kindly, and show her the ways of the City. But neither Gabriel or Lucinda would allow that, talking in their backwards ways to confuse the observant child.
"Have you ever wondered that maybe it's someone to blame for what happened to us?" Lucinda whispered. Gabriel scoffed.
"They had a chance to save us from ourselves, and look what they did. Turn their backs on us without a second glance. And yet of all the people in this godforsaken City, you keep going back. They don't want us."
This used to be a blow to Lucinda, a feeling as if being stabbed in the heart would blossom in her chest, but tonight there was no feeling. She had successfully nummbed herself to that pain. "No. There's something there. I need to know."
The child frowned. Reason. Curiosity. That's what drove Lucinda.
"But," Julian joined in, looking apologetic to the Youngest, "If you're asking that question, you already know the answer. You always do."
"I just want to proven wrong."
Gabriel's sarcastic amusement diminished into annnoyance. He shook his red dredlocks, "Maybe two months ago, you would've been wrong. But after what we did, and what they've done. There's no way you couldn't be wrong now..."
"What are you talking about?" A small voice came from the lips of the child nestled in the couch. Jack, their gaurdian, had dressed her in white, like a doll, which Lucinda found entirely too eerie for her. "Who are they? Why does Luci care about them? Why is Gabriel mad?"
Gabriel looked at Lucinda, "Don't answer. She's aiming for ann emotional opening. Did you catch the tone?"
Julian tried to defend her, but it lacked conviction. "Oh come Gabe. She's just a child."
"And so were we. We were the same age as she when we started. But people were dumber then, and had no idea what we wanted."
Regret. Sorrow. Confusion. This is what gripped them and they protected themselves by being distant. It was...pitiful.
"How cold." Lucinda stared directly into the child's eyes. "You think because we're distant, we're to be pitied. But we're not distant because we're hurt. Not entirely. We're distant to present a challenge. How far would you go to get in? How much do you really want to know?"
"Seems like you're asking a lot of people who don't know you, yet. Why not be open?"
Julian and Gabriel who had been day dreaming, immediately turned to Lucinda at the word "open". It was a part of Luci's problem, opening up. But she laughed. "Why don't you be open with us and see where the problem really lies?"
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Manip. You. Later.
Some people would find to be a disgusting trait. It is in fact an art, in that it uses the mind alone to craft a masterpiece of illusion and conviction. It's like acting only on a far more psychological level than distracting someone from reality. I can't help it. I admire the manipulations other people perform, I have to. It took time and effort and real thought and if the results are horrific and painful, I'm only elated by them.
Does that make me an ugly person? No. The ends usually justify the means don't they? Won't they? And if at least one person is benefitted from the ruin of another does that stop it from being bad? Perhaps. See, manipulation is black and white, China and United States. It's the Frenchie bit of society, a bit questionable, a bit artistic, and a hell lot of fun. If it done properly.
So the goal of this summer, find the grey of manipulation and use it to get the one thing I want most. It's tangible before you go thinking it's some emotion a person cannot achieve in the solace of his mind. It's very tangible and the best part?
If I can pull it off, it will be my best work to date.
And, being me, I do have a lot of "best works".
Does that make me an ugly person? No. The ends usually justify the means don't they? Won't they? And if at least one person is benefitted from the ruin of another does that stop it from being bad? Perhaps. See, manipulation is black and white, China and United States. It's the Frenchie bit of society, a bit questionable, a bit artistic, and a hell lot of fun. If it done properly.
So the goal of this summer, find the grey of manipulation and use it to get the one thing I want most. It's tangible before you go thinking it's some emotion a person cannot achieve in the solace of his mind. It's very tangible and the best part?
If I can pull it off, it will be my best work to date.
And, being me, I do have a lot of "best works".
Friday, May 28, 2010
Prepping.
I'm extremely nervous about my two month trip to Trinidad and now I've been informed my major way of communication, texting, will be cut off. I'm very attatched to my phone. I can't help it. It's the way I communicate with most of my friends. There's always facebook, twitter, myspace, bebo, but I've never been big on social networking through a computer. What will happen when I come back and everyone has changed? What if I change? I probably will, Trinidad does tend to have that effect on people. I hope I don't end up dreading every day in Trinidad, and it becomes more about business than pleasure. I desperately want someone to come with me, so there will always be that more personal communication, a consistent break from this alternate reality.
And it is an alternate reality. It's like going to a different planet. Which isnt' to say that this island is full of questionable content, but it does have different social customs than here in Dinky Dinkle Town. I can't even begin to imagine what it will be like, that's how different it is.
On the upside, it'll be an adventure. And I get to go to fashion week the second I land. See, look, things are looking better already. Now if only I can find a small laptop to take with me that lets me watch youtube, and multitask like nobody's business.
Off to pack, and freak out more about my journey. Oh wait!
Since my phone will be on standby for the duration of my stay, I'll be using this more often to keep you all informed of my misadventures. The fastest way to contact me will be through email, facebook, or here via comments. Ugh...no phone. flippin' the muffin out.
And it is an alternate reality. It's like going to a different planet. Which isnt' to say that this island is full of questionable content, but it does have different social customs than here in Dinky Dinkle Town. I can't even begin to imagine what it will be like, that's how different it is.
On the upside, it'll be an adventure. And I get to go to fashion week the second I land. See, look, things are looking better already. Now if only I can find a small laptop to take with me that lets me watch youtube, and multitask like nobody's business.
Off to pack, and freak out more about my journey. Oh wait!
Since my phone will be on standby for the duration of my stay, I'll be using this more often to keep you all informed of my misadventures. The fastest way to contact me will be through email, facebook, or here via comments. Ugh...no phone. flippin' the muffin out.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Miranda the Zune
Expectations
I guess I'm not allowed to have expectations of people anymore. Take it as it comes right? I clearly don't live up to people's expectations of me and I don't really have any of other people. But wait. I do. When people disappoint me, I expected them to. When I go after something, I expect that I'll fail. So my entire life and approach towards my life has been nothing but expectations. No wonder I'm unhappy, I've just been making a scene running in circles and throwing tantrums because little Z did not get what she want. But looking at it from another perspective: when people have expected me to react badly to something, I surprise them. Maybe you're life is built around expectations and you're just as wrong as I am. The difference between the two of us is that I'll try to find things in people and accept of them, you'll never change. Will you?
Annoyance
Want to know an awful truth about me that won't be true in the very near future? My friends unexpected (on my part) happiness does not make me happy. In fact it makes me quite miserable. Do you know why? And it's only partly because I'm an attention whore. Or maybe it's because I'm totally an attention whore. It makes me sad that their happiness almost puts a barrier between us. I'm almost afraid to ruin their happiness, so I'll accept the barrier and not talk to them until their happiness fades. Then when they're miserable and kind of in that inbetween happiness we'll talk and I'll push them to pursue their happiness. It's a cycle. Ha. Story of my life.
Which does not mean that you shouldn't tell me about your happy times. I'll just be a little sad and still very very happy for you nonetheless.
Smoking
Smoking is very important to me I just found. The feel of lighting up, the slow inhale filling my lungs and then the sweet exhale of the flavor sliding down my tongue. It's heaven in my tedious sheep filled hell. It calms me down like no other. I helps me focus when I'm under obnoxious amounts of stress and that's perfect. That's all I've ever wanted. Find me someone who can have that same effect on me and maybe I'll change my mind about marriage.
I guess I'm not allowed to have expectations of people anymore. Take it as it comes right? I clearly don't live up to people's expectations of me and I don't really have any of other people. But wait. I do. When people disappoint me, I expected them to. When I go after something, I expect that I'll fail. So my entire life and approach towards my life has been nothing but expectations. No wonder I'm unhappy, I've just been making a scene running in circles and throwing tantrums because little Z did not get what she want. But looking at it from another perspective: when people have expected me to react badly to something, I surprise them. Maybe you're life is built around expectations and you're just as wrong as I am. The difference between the two of us is that I'll try to find things in people and accept of them, you'll never change. Will you?
Annoyance
Want to know an awful truth about me that won't be true in the very near future? My friends unexpected (on my part) happiness does not make me happy. In fact it makes me quite miserable. Do you know why? And it's only partly because I'm an attention whore. Or maybe it's because I'm totally an attention whore. It makes me sad that their happiness almost puts a barrier between us. I'm almost afraid to ruin their happiness, so I'll accept the barrier and not talk to them until their happiness fades. Then when they're miserable and kind of in that inbetween happiness we'll talk and I'll push them to pursue their happiness. It's a cycle. Ha. Story of my life.
Which does not mean that you shouldn't tell me about your happy times. I'll just be a little sad and still very very happy for you nonetheless.
Smoking
Smoking is very important to me I just found. The feel of lighting up, the slow inhale filling my lungs and then the sweet exhale of the flavor sliding down my tongue. It's heaven in my tedious sheep filled hell. It calms me down like no other. I helps me focus when I'm under obnoxious amounts of stress and that's perfect. That's all I've ever wanted. Find me someone who can have that same effect on me and maybe I'll change my mind about marriage.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Tarot Reading 3/2/10
I'm in a state to learn new things, but I'm spending all my energy on fleeting excitement that doesn't give me the pleasure I actually need. Impulsiveness. I wonder who the Queen of Pentacles was in my past... I feel lucky... Relationship issues, but I don't think their mine. There's already been evidence of other people's relationships breaking down and I'm just reaping the benefits and helping where I can. This is the turning point, (duh, I'm turning 18...), women apparently or the feminine side of the male character are something I should be aware of...justice, and finally success.
hmm, go figure.
hmm, go figure.
Friday, February 19, 2010
wants
I want:
*to fix/ get a new laptop
*get photo editing software
*to make an music album
*bring my grades up to c's before quarter
*get a juicy bag
*dress up for alice in wonderland
*get a new ipod
*come up with something to do in lieu of graduation
*manage my time better
*go see cirque du soleil
yep.
*to fix/ get a new laptop
*get photo editing software
*to make an music album
*bring my grades up to c's before quarter
*get a juicy bag
*dress up for alice in wonderland
*get a new ipod
*come up with something to do in lieu of graduation
*manage my time better
*go see cirque du soleil
yep.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Waking up
I miss the summer. I miss smoking in the summer, the freedom of the summer, and the fun that came with summer. Any other season I feel confined, almost restless with responsibilities I didn't choose.
I don't like how school made the summer so significant. If anything I would have cherished the fall more without it, and found the winter to be refreshing. Instead of daunting and icky and horrible. I guess because it's school and there are many other demands wanting to be answered, we don't pay attention to ourselves as we should. Then the summer comes and we see a lot of other people's repressed parts and we're realize we don't want what we thought we wanted and then we are born anew just in time for school to start.
So our lives only really mean anything to us in the summer. The thought of it plays like some weird high school movie in my head. Hmm...
But now I'm graduating. Free to choose the responsibilities I can commit to and want of myself. That's why I chose to go college. Because I want to. My father even said I could drop out as long as I had plan of what to do with my life. Daddy ain't raise no bums. But this is my decision and that's makes me incredibly happy.
Good bye old friends! Good bye old school! Good bye old homes! Good bye dinky little town!
I think I'm afraid though. That in all my excitement I'm throwing away the things I really need. Like a family close by, friends down the street, but I never existed here. I was always off dreaming of the summer to come.
I don't like how school made the summer so significant. If anything I would have cherished the fall more without it, and found the winter to be refreshing. Instead of daunting and icky and horrible. I guess because it's school and there are many other demands wanting to be answered, we don't pay attention to ourselves as we should. Then the summer comes and we see a lot of other people's repressed parts and we're realize we don't want what we thought we wanted and then we are born anew just in time for school to start.
So our lives only really mean anything to us in the summer. The thought of it plays like some weird high school movie in my head. Hmm...
But now I'm graduating. Free to choose the responsibilities I can commit to and want of myself. That's why I chose to go college. Because I want to. My father even said I could drop out as long as I had plan of what to do with my life. Daddy ain't raise no bums. But this is my decision and that's makes me incredibly happy.
Good bye old friends! Good bye old school! Good bye old homes! Good bye dinky little town!
I think I'm afraid though. That in all my excitement I'm throwing away the things I really need. Like a family close by, friends down the street, but I never existed here. I was always off dreaming of the summer to come.
Monday, January 25, 2010
A refusal for love
"You must forgive me. Your...proposal had taken me almost entirely by surprise. But you had hinted at the favor I held with you, and your affection never strayed from me. You mustn't be upset with me, I understand love, you know. Your infatuation with me is only in what you think of me. You don't know me, dear. I'm not a nice person. In fact, I'm probably not a very loyal person. Ask anyone if you will. See, your tears are already starting to dry with the thought of that. If you do really love me, you'd interject, and point out my flaws and how you can accept me for me. But you haven't, so you don't, and your heart will heal against me. Don't fret little love, you'll find happiness soon."
The little gossamer faerie flitted off away from the minxet, who did not sigh with sorrow for the damage he'd done. Lucinda, the younger Williams twin, and Olivia, the mortal in the City, stepped out of the alley to stand beside him. Lucinda pulled out a cigarette wrapped in purple paper and lit it without a match. In one long drag, she sighed, electric green smoke framing her unreadable face.
"Now, why did you go do a thing like that?" She asked Carl, the half cat, half heartbreaker in the street. "She almost loved you and those are hard to come by in the City."
"She wasn't good enough for me. A twitty little pure bred gossie? With me? I deserve something exotic for it's what I am. A rival, someone to admire and be admired by. Equal in my grace and beauty."
Lucinda nodded, but Olivia stood aghast. "That's not love at all!"
Carl turned his fierce gaze on her. "But isn't it, child? There are different degrees of love and there are different ways of giving and receiving love. Mine is obsession, not mindless infatuation. Can you blame me for wanting someone I can cherish as they are perfect in my eyes or should I snatch up the first person who wanders by professing love? Don't speak to me of truth in romance when you have yet to find it yourself."
Olivia felt very small all of a sudden as if she were just barely big enough to not slip into the drain beneath the curb. Lucinda flicked her cigarette, spilling hot pink ash all over the wet pavement. "You're both wrong. But at least one of you knows you're wrong and can live with it."
-the carnival
The little gossamer faerie flitted off away from the minxet, who did not sigh with sorrow for the damage he'd done. Lucinda, the younger Williams twin, and Olivia, the mortal in the City, stepped out of the alley to stand beside him. Lucinda pulled out a cigarette wrapped in purple paper and lit it without a match. In one long drag, she sighed, electric green smoke framing her unreadable face.
"Now, why did you go do a thing like that?" She asked Carl, the half cat, half heartbreaker in the street. "She almost loved you and those are hard to come by in the City."
"She wasn't good enough for me. A twitty little pure bred gossie? With me? I deserve something exotic for it's what I am. A rival, someone to admire and be admired by. Equal in my grace and beauty."
Lucinda nodded, but Olivia stood aghast. "That's not love at all!"
Carl turned his fierce gaze on her. "But isn't it, child? There are different degrees of love and there are different ways of giving and receiving love. Mine is obsession, not mindless infatuation. Can you blame me for wanting someone I can cherish as they are perfect in my eyes or should I snatch up the first person who wanders by professing love? Don't speak to me of truth in romance when you have yet to find it yourself."
Olivia felt very small all of a sudden as if she were just barely big enough to not slip into the drain beneath the curb. Lucinda flicked her cigarette, spilling hot pink ash all over the wet pavement. "You're both wrong. But at least one of you knows you're wrong and can live with it."
-the carnival
Sunday, January 24, 2010
On things like "Labyrinth"
This is conversation I would most likely have with a random person at my school. Let's call them... Meghan.
Meghan: Like O.M.G! You're song the labyrinth was soooo cool. I mean I sooo want a boyfriend to come take me out of my labyrinth. Because I'm like always overthinking shit and stuff.
Z: It's not about love. I wrote more with the idea of socializing in mind. A lot of people just sit around and wait to be included, but it's the same thing in every aspect of life, you have to be active about the life you want. And I'm pretty sure everyone overthinks things now. Which makes me feel less weird about myself. Yay!
Meg: But wasn't the labyrinth about loneliness and heartache?
Z: No. It was about pride and thinking, "Those people over there are like me, so I'll just not talk to them." The labyrinth is the wall between ourselves and everyone else. It's there because we think we need to be guarded against the world (or the world from us...either way, you know some people....). Lovers or friends, each moment is an opportunity to step a little out of our personal labyrinth and explore someone else's.
Meg: That sounds complicated and depressing.
Z: ...because it isn't simple like your poppy, main stream love songs?
(Which I don't hate by the way. I just prefer my music to like...make me feel something complex.)
Meg: Is all your stuff like this?
Z: Yep. And everyone thinks it's about me, being emotional and needing to be loved. Tsk tsk people out there. Tsk. TSK. I like things to be...dark and light I guess. Simple with a twisted variable to make it my own. I like my subjects of choice to be seemingly depressing/dark/simple/bright with something that balances out that borderline "um...wtf" potential.
So...yeah.
Meghan: Like O.M.G! You're song the labyrinth was soooo cool. I mean I sooo want a boyfriend to come take me out of my labyrinth. Because I'm like always overthinking shit and stuff.
Z: It's not about love. I wrote more with the idea of socializing in mind. A lot of people just sit around and wait to be included, but it's the same thing in every aspect of life, you have to be active about the life you want. And I'm pretty sure everyone overthinks things now. Which makes me feel less weird about myself. Yay!
Meg: But wasn't the labyrinth about loneliness and heartache?
Z: No. It was about pride and thinking, "Those people over there are like me, so I'll just not talk to them." The labyrinth is the wall between ourselves and everyone else. It's there because we think we need to be guarded against the world (or the world from us...either way, you know some people....). Lovers or friends, each moment is an opportunity to step a little out of our personal labyrinth and explore someone else's.
Meg: That sounds complicated and depressing.
Z: ...because it isn't simple like your poppy, main stream love songs?
(Which I don't hate by the way. I just prefer my music to like...make me feel something complex.)
Meg: Is all your stuff like this?
Z: Yep. And everyone thinks it's about me, being emotional and needing to be loved. Tsk tsk people out there. Tsk. TSK. I like things to be...dark and light I guess. Simple with a twisted variable to make it my own. I like my subjects of choice to be seemingly depressing/dark/simple/bright with something that balances out that borderline "um...wtf" potential.
So...yeah.
Labyrinth
Somebody who loves me come save me
Because life is sinking down here
Can't find my way out of the labyrinth
and I've forgotten how to feel fear.
Be my light, be my light
at the end of the tunnel
show me how to see dear
stop the darkness before takes all
and if I find a reason why
you can claim everything.
No poison, no antidote
it's an easier dream.
Somebody who loves me come save me
Because life is sinking down here
Can't find my way out of the labyrinth
and I've forgotten how to feel fear.
No doubt we'll find it,
half awake and half waking round sir
Waking up and still dreaming
crawling through the heat and the briar
And they say, you can't do a dame
any better than she
Because she's the only one
who could ever believe.
Labyrinth, labyrinth, closing in on me
silence darling and knock me free
hold my hand, guide me out
and you'll know what I let you doubt
Somebody who loves me come hear me
Because life is changing round here.
See my way out of the labyrinth
and I remember how to feel, dear.
Because life is sinking down here
Can't find my way out of the labyrinth
and I've forgotten how to feel fear.
Be my light, be my light
at the end of the tunnel
show me how to see dear
stop the darkness before takes all
and if I find a reason why
you can claim everything.
No poison, no antidote
it's an easier dream.
Somebody who loves me come save me
Because life is sinking down here
Can't find my way out of the labyrinth
and I've forgotten how to feel fear.
No doubt we'll find it,
half awake and half waking round sir
Waking up and still dreaming
crawling through the heat and the briar
And they say, you can't do a dame
any better than she
Because she's the only one
who could ever believe.
Labyrinth, labyrinth, closing in on me
silence darling and knock me free
hold my hand, guide me out
and you'll know what I let you doubt
Somebody who loves me come hear me
Because life is changing round here.
See my way out of the labyrinth
and I remember how to feel, dear.
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