Her

As once again we meet to rant, tonight we rant of much nonsense. Of much pointless familiarity and worrying over subjects with no matter to worry over. Tonight, we are gathered here so dreams and memories can be mourned for the millionth time, in hope that something will change the 1,000,001st time. Of course they won't but perhaps I will feel better having poured out the nasty jealousy and ridiculousness that lies within me. Then, to continue the evaporation of my mind, I'm not even sure what happened and what I made up anymore, because the lines now lay that close.

Her. I don't believe in blaming it on her, I believe in blaming it on myself. Her. But when you find the one that can do everything you cannot, doing everything you cannot, in female form, you tend to think about her in a negative way. Who? Her. Trust me, she is a great person, and if we could politely pass each other on that swing set that is life, then she would be one of my, like, favorite people on earth! Yeah, seriously! But on that swing set I was talking about earlier, we are set on a collision course and I'm on the edge of ramming into her full speed just because the two of us are incapable in everything and I'm an idiot. So we have the problem of her. Her. Isn't this sad? This is like songs-from-when-avril-lagvine-was-16  level sad.

Friends

My friend Melli blogged about labels in the terms of best friends, and I would like to respond to that.

If you read her entry, she says some things about calling best friends 'best friend'. I disagree. I think that best friends, become your best friend, because they are meant to be your best friend because you are alike. Then, you become closer and closer to that person, and automatically, you are "BFFs". Then, you might see that closeness, and call yourselves best friends. But the label itself shouldn't be made beforehand, or it is false. Thus, it is meaningless. And as for the label breaking up a friendship, if something as simple as the words 'best friend' can destroy a friendship, don't you think you're better out of such a friendship anyway?

In addition, I would like to restate, the fact that 'best friend' is not a contract, or ever-lasting marriage proposal. It is a fact of life, and like life, is apt and available to change. Friendship is much like a swing set. Your friends are everyone on the swings and each of you are going at your own pace of life. Sometimes, you happen to swing at exactly the same pace, and then because the wind is no longer cutting out your words as you cross, you talk. You become closer. This is your best friend. 

But then one of you starts swinging higher than the other and your paths are off track for that moment, and maybe you will be at the same pace as another. But this other friend is not any less because you are swinging differently, they are just not close. And if she learns how to swing really high, you can both swing together and be best friends again? It all depends on your changing personalities. Not that best friends or any friend is something to be flaky about. They are just subject to change. Within reason. Vale amicae!

Traitor

First, you panic. Because you know that you're entirely out of something that you need very badly to be a part of. Though it is not a necessity, if you knew what was going on, you would probably feel very upset, and thus you feel upset because you know there is no doubt that this thing is happening. The general 'you' by the way.

Next, you relax, because you assume that this has already been existed before you thought of it, and nothing inside of your realm has gone awful yet. In fact, it's been pretty sweet so far and recently. So obviously, what ever this whatever you don't know is, hasn't been huge competition yet.

Then, you get a pang of guilt, because you do, and are off to go shower so you can do, the same thing. You're no better than him, because he's no better than you even though you don't know exactly what it is he's doing. We're all traitors at heart and there's nothing wrong with that. It's the way we are, so the guilt can slip away as you realize you are both 'hurting' each other. Notice the quotes.

But if he's doing something and you're doing something, then who is there to be hurt? Plus, the 'thing' you're about to go do, is probably being traitor to some other person being traitor herself, until we wind up with some broken hearted angel tonight. But we'll never know who that will be. So finally we are okay. Finally we can be at peace, because finally we realize. We're all traitors at heart. Let's have fun. 

Hope

Hope. Hope. Hope. I keep on repeating that word seeing if it will bring a new light on me, or I will bring a new light on it. Hope. Hope. The positive prospect towards something good. Hope. Hope. But what about when Hope is deadly? When Hope is the feeder of all expectations just to be let down? Hope that can fool you, destroy you, betray you. Isn't that a new view on Obama's 2nd favorite word? Hope. Hope. Hope. Hope. When you say it, air rushes through, enlightening an idea, but think about it. Hope. How much do you want to rise with Hope, at the risk of being demolished with failure? Is it worth it? Is it worth it to Hope for the things you desire the most, and can visualize but cannot confirm? What do you gain in comparison to what you loose? Hope. Hope. Hope. Now have I destroyed the magic word? I'm just protecting myself. I want to hope and I instinctively Hope, but I am equally afraid of it. Hope.

Monkeys

Then I saw little monkeys and they were swinging from the bookshelves that towered above us. I didn't like the bookshelves - they scared me. But I liked the monkeys, who were grinning at me and then they began to chant:

"Never believe the liar when he's telling you the truth, nor the pessimist with good news. If a girl is frowning next to a happy one, then run because something is wrong. Never let the purple paint ever talk to the pink, because contrary to common belief, the daffodils do think. If I made any sense, I would be eternally glad, but if I made all sense, it would be bad. Only half of us make sense, or only half of what we say. Pick any half you'd like, and go on with your day."

I looked up at the monkeys. 

"Duh,"              

Jamaican

At half past two I put a pot on my head, my daddy saw and said "It's the Jamaican in you."

I did my chores, I swept the hall, the bottle didn't fall off at all. Mama said, catching sight of my head, "It's the Jamaican in you." Kind of funny to think about, all those women running around with pots on my head. Carrying water from the river back to the village and home, did they think much of where their descendants would be? Bet not, bet you they were thinking about their kids, within the moment and how they were going to live. It was life, simply life, and there wasn't much more beyond there was it? Sure, dreams that were dreamt, but I bet you never dreamed this? That your daughter down a few generations would be walking around ******* city, with fabric softener on her head thinking: "It's the Jamaican in me?"

Moment

What am I going to write about today? Lack of revelations... revelations stored in my head momentarily forgotten. Experiments with light and life that reach no end except for that it is done. It is done and now it can never be done again. Ever. Once a moment happens, it is done and the moment is over the moment it happens and can never be recreated. If anything could ever happen twice, what would be the point of the 'time' concept we fabricated? Isn't the point of time to tell the difference between a moment and another and to mark that something happens and never happens at any other 'time' than then? 

That sounds about right if anything else is right in this world. Thank you for taking this fictionalized and conceptual moment to read my babbling. 

Valentines

Is young love really as crackpot as we are taught to make it out to be? Or isn't that what we tell the broken hearts on valentine's day and it spread around...

Young love... as in none of us have a diploma in anything? At our age it is said that we shouldn't waste our youth and our time and etc on meaningless relationships that will just end in nothing but disappointment. I strongly disagree with that statement and am now firmly convinced that notion was created specifically for comforting broken 13 year old hearts.

Young love is like everything else in life is a lesson for future use. Why do we go to math? Well... thats not a good example.... why do we learn how to read? Because we use it in later life. Why do lion cubs fight with each other? To practice fighting for the real world. Which is how I look at little relationships that go nowhere and die early. Practice. I bet those lion cubs have a hell of a lot of fun rolling on top of each other! So why is it so awful and stupid we have little love experiments? It prepares us for the world. Obviously fighting your little brother isn't the same as fighting the animal about to eat you... but you get the idea.

Therefore, I deem teenage love-experiments acceptable, understandable and enjoyable.

Happy Valentines Day.

Choice

On the subject of my ongoing mythical romance and heartbreak, I consulted two friends. Each said opposite options of advice, and both claimed to defend the 'smarter choice'. I am utterly bemused and petrified with the task of making a decision.

Friend 1 said that I had to remember my reputation, which is oh-so important. The one I like would bring my reputation down, because he is a real... monkey. Shall we say that? Point being, the status that I've worked so hard to maintain while staying cool with everyone else in my life is a huge project, like your final essay for social studies, that you loose on your computer the night before it's due? Yeah. That could happen to me the moment I ask him. But I want to!!!!!!!!

Friend 2, (consulted 30 minutes after friend 1) said that if I liked him, it was the most important thing, and he liked me (so she says). She said that my reputation meant nothing, and that he couldn't really hurt me, it would be a great for me, and that something as stupid as reputation should never prevent me from this sort of thing.

I agree WHOLEHEARTEDLY with both. I care about my love life as much as my reputation and if either one sunk (well the love life is already at the earth's core) I would die. 

I have until Friday to choose.

Applesauce

Potato applesauce, a contradiction in itself, yet it is life. The stereotypical assumption and expectations of what life is and should be, and then the revealing of what life turns out to be. Not a golden apple or perfect world, where everyone is friendly and unselfish. That world is applesauce. Yet the world is not applesauce. The world is rough, dark, full of pretenders and haters, and seeking only their own happiness. It is false and fake, the deep truth, hidden and shielded in green mist. The world is potato. 

But we still are apt to return to the idea of the applesauce, and dwell on it for some time, like we might admire a painting. We think "wouldn't it be nice if I could be like that" whether it's having a magical sugary life, or being able to create an image of monkeys. We always like to look at the applesauce and it is pretty to us. 

Thus, is it so hard to conceive, that the world is potato applesauce?

Please don't tell me this. I don't want to hear. About how beautiful and wonderful and fun she is. I refuse to hear it, though its all I can say, and there is nothing left in my head today.

NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I begged you to tell me, to get you speak. But I was already lost in next week. In the hell that happens that time of year, the awkwardness I always fear. Will it be much better in the spring? When I think of you, and you of me? 

NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Did it ever occur to you that detachment is a rare skill? That though I try to master it I never will? That I can't help but drown in the hell you've made? You might be the first thing I think of when I wake?

NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So what left is there for me to tell you. What can you tell me. That you will go have a life and I will be trapped in last spring? That there is not future until I've said goodbye? Tell me goodbye then! There was nothing so let it go!

NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I love you.

Nothing

Pin

Chances are you've never tried to do a pirouette. The first time you do it, you're kind of wobbly, on an uneven surface, and then all of a sudden, you're soaring. Like being suspended from a string or a pole, that stretches you out from your head upwards, and your toes downward. And then all of a sudden you're down. Except while your spinning, and the pirouettes that follow your first, you are no longer on earth. You could come crashing down at any moment, and you almost feel like you will, but for some magical reason (if you can actually pull it off) you stay balanced. But if you don't have room to crash, that can be pretty scary.

Now take my description of a pirouette, and try to do one, on the tip of a pin. A pin. Balancing on this surface, turning round and round, feeling like you should be falling off down into the abyss - but you're not. You just keep spinning and spinning, on the tip of pin, while death and hell wait below and you can't figure out why you haven't fallen yet, and everyday you wake up thinking 'today i will fall' except you don't?

Welcome to my life.