Dusty Draft: Abandoned

This post will be somewhat of a confessional, but mostly an update.

Forgive me father, for I have sinned. When I was in the seventh grade, my mom started hanging out with her friends again. She was still grieving my father’s passing, so I guess it was fun for her to just get away from it all. Whenever my mom left the house to go out with her friends, I would tell her not to abandon me, because I felt like if she didn’t come back, I would be living on a street corner with nothing to my name.

I hate when people are too afraid to admit their mistakes and own up to them. I’ll admit to all of my readers that, in real life, I’m a cold-hearted bitch, but I’m okay with that. I realize that it’s possible to be nice (or at least civilized and polite) to people while still maintaining some pride and integrity (aka I’m not going to let you walk all over me just because you have nothing better to do with your life). But when I make a mistake or am completely out of line with my actions, I’m willing to put my pride on my line and apologise. But some people just don’t see where they’re going wrong with their decisions. Then they won’t even consider apologizing.

I’m not going to lie. I’ve had a tough year. It’s hard to pull yourself away from people you really do love, just to save your own skin. But I’ve learned a lot this year, and I’ll put it in list form, just for you.

1. The guitar is a difficult instrument to master, but a great instrument to just enjoy.
2. It’s very possible to be a friend recycler. But when you decide to recycle the dispensable, make it quick and painless.
3. I used to complain about how, in Middle-of-Nowhere, Ohio, there was never really anything to do. Now, I’ve realized that there are plenty of fun things to do if you stop thinking that you’re living in an ant farm, and just start living!
4. Musically, it’s great to take chances every once in a while. Eg. Last week, I bought Franz Ferdinand’s latest album “Tonight”, really only because it got a good review from the late, great Blender mag, and I liked the early Franz stuff I’d heard. I don’t usually buy albums without at least listening to a couple of songs from it first, but I took a risk, and I’m now borderline obsessed with this album. Just delve into a genre you wouldn’t usually even consider trying and have an open mind.
5. If people are willing to treat you like shit just because someone else is purposefully treating you like shit, that should diminish their value as your friend. You don’t really have to recycle them, but you also shouldn’t really trust them with your life.

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March 31st, 2009

(NOTE: You think you’re random? This is what I did in my spare time.)

Here are some random things to write monologues (or songs? Maybe? No?) about

I want to feel loved

You can’t love everybody

I feel unloved

I feel alone, yet so divided from the lonely

I want you to look at me and say that I look beautiful today

The makeup hides my scars, while the friction stops the cars

I listen to too many love songs, so I pretend you’re the perfect one for me when you aren’t

You woke me up and you stopped my dreams for your own reasons

Being the bitch is better than being the doormat

You don’t see your mistakes

You’re so dependent on each other that you just can’t see anyone else

You feel as though you can convince me of something, when I’ve already made my decisions

I’m tired of always having to stop everything for you

Your insecurities consume you and it hurts me, yet it annoys me

I feel like you want me to shower you with compliments everyday, just so you can survive

I wish I knew the problems they had because they seem so perfect

I’m a poser, and I need your love

I want you to think that I’ve seen everything, can tell you anything, and know the nature of the world, but I’ve got no idea.

It’s all so beautiful, even though we usually just pass it all by

The imperfections are always the distinctions; in everything

You drain my energy like a blood mobile

Here are some random things to write monologues (or songs? Maybe? No?) about:

I want to feel loved

You can’t love everybody

I feel unloved

I feel alone, yet still divided from the lonely (open interpretation of difference between loneliness and feeling alone?)

I want you to look at me and say that I look beautiful today

The makeup hides my scars, while the friction stops the cars (human nature up against nature, not science, itself)

I listen to too many love songs, so I pretend you’re the perfect one for me when you aren’t

You woke me up and you stopped my dreams for your own reasons

Being the bitch is better than being the doormat

You don’t see your mistakes

You’re so dependent on each other that you just can’t see anyone else (relationship wise? third wheel wise?)

You feel as though you can convince me of something, when I’ve already made my decisions

I’m tired of always having to stop everything for you

Your insecurities consume you and it hurts me, yet it also annoys me that you take it out on me

I feel like you want me to shower you with compliments everyday, just so you can survive

I wish I knew the problems they had because they seem so perfect

I’m a poser, and I need your love

I want you to think that I’ve seen everything, can tell you anything, and know the nature of the world, but I’ve got no idea.

It’s all so beautiful, even though we usually just pass it all by

The imperfections are always the distinctions in everything

You drain my energy like a blood mobile

March 17th, 2009

[NOTE: This was to be a post written because of the one year anniversary of this blog, but I never posted it. Here it is, months late, but still here. It's a very personal post, and, in a way, it reveals a lot of the insecurities I have and anger I once had, but I'm okay with that.]

Beginning of unwritten bloggiversary post

I’ve learned that I’m a jackass, and that I have to admit that to myself to be able to get through it all sometimes. By solidifying my status as a jackass, I’ve admitted to myself that I have trouble expressing how I feel without using some sort of defense mechanism: sarcasm, power abuse, and, my favorite, bottling it up. However, these defense mechanisms made for very controversial posts and tweets about my opinions and feelings. My tendencies became a vicious circle; somebody wants to be mad. I’m chill because I already vented. Someone’s still angry. I still can’t see why because of whatever reason. I eventually am backed into a corner because I bottled it up, and end up apologizing whether I want to or not. Whether it was genuine or not, I felt like I must apologize to avoid being abruptly backed into a long-term shuffle. Now, I know better than the mistakes I’ve made. I mean, yeah it’s fun to vent, but who will even care if they’re not involved with the situation. Furthermore, if they do care, who’s not going to get angry? All in all, bottling it up inside me has become one of the most self-inflicting, stupidest defense mechanisms I’ve ever used. Sarcasm makes people think you’re funny all the time, even when you’re using it to hide your own insecurities about your personal problems wih yourself. Power-abuse is wrong because very rarely do people even have a lot of power, but when you abuse it, people obviously label you as a jackass. I don’t abuse my power unless my job is to get people to stop talking (oh, let’s say during a show or something), but it’s a good one to use rarely. But bottling up my feelings when I’m angry only ends up making me angry or sad or disgusted with the circumstances. But the way I bottled everything up and the reactions to my venting also make me realize something; I was incredibly dependent. Dependent to the point where it was hurting me to see that I was practically expendable to them. I left my dependency behing with middle school, and I’m not going to lie when I say it took quite a while. I had to get used to the fact that when they were together, I wasn’t ever really going to be a part of it. The way they stuck together like glue, with me sort of looking in like a fly on the wall. The greatest part about it all was that I wasn’t the only one; it seemed to be the trend that people couldn’t live without their friends. I guessed it was just the curse of high school, but I wasn’t going to get hurt living that way again. Label me however you want: loser, geek, outcast, emo kid. I don’t care anymore. Becuase, in reality, I’m going to have to leave all of these people behind one day

I’ve discovered that I get myself stuck in situations caused by my own supressions, but situations which are, indeed, wrong. It’s partly just because of the type of person I am; I’ve had an unconventional adolescence and I usually defend my opinions and emotions with supressive actions or what is simply called “Bottling it all up”. But the other part of it is because I’m a pushover. I let people walk all over me. I let people interrupt me. I let people cancel on me. I let people talk over me. I let people yell at me for expressing an opinion outside of theirs. I let people try to shut me up. And I’m okay with it until I realize that it’s wrong. The worst part about it all is that when I notice what has happened, I get angry. I write about my problems in the most public ways possible, and, most of the time, I end up alienating myself from the people who hurt me the most, which would be great if I actually intended to leave them. But I don’t leave people behind in a second because no good relationships really end that way; they leave you slowly, and leave their footprints behind. It all takes time, and it all takes strength because, in reality, you never want to leave the people who you spend so much time with behind.

End post

Beginning of unwritten bloggiversary post

I’ve learned that I’m a jackass, and that I have to admit that to myself to be able to get through it all sometimes. By solidifying my status as a jackass, I’ve admitted to myself that I have trouble expressing how I feel without using some sort of defense mechanism: sarcasm, power abuse, and, my favorite, bottling it up. However, these defense mechanisms made for very controversial posts and tweets about my opinions and feelings. My tendencies became a vicious circle; somebody wants to be mad. I’m chill because I already vented. Someone’s still angry. I still can’t see why because of whatever reason. I eventually am backed into a corner because I bottled it up, and end up apologizing whether I want to or not. Whether it was genuine or not, I felt like I must apologize to avoid being abruptly backed into a long-term shuffle. Now, I know better than the mistakes I’ve made. I mean, yeah it’s fun to vent, but who will even care if they’re not involved with the situation. Furthermore, if they do care, who’s not going to get angry? All in all, bottling it up inside me has become one of the most self-inflicting, stupidest defense mechanisms I’ve ever used. Sarcasm makes people think you’re funny all the time, even when you’re using it to hide your own insecurities about your personal problems wih yourself. Power-abuse is wrong because very rarely do people even have a lot of power, but when you abuse it, people obviously label you as a jackass. I don’t abuse my power unless my job is to get people to stop talking (oh, let’s say during a show or something), but it’s a good one to use rarely. But bottling up my feelings when I’m angry only ends up making me angry or sad or disgusted with the circumstances. But the way I bottled everything up and the reactions to my venting also make me realize something; I was incredibly dependent. Dependent to the point where it was hurting me to see that I was practically expendable to them. I left my dependency behing with middle school, and I’m not going to lie when I say it took quite a while. I had to get used to the fact that when they were together, I wasn’t ever really going to be a part of it. The way they stuck together like glue, with me sort of looking in like a fly on the wall. The greatest part about it all was that I wasn’t the only one; it seemed to be the trend that people couldn’t live without their friends. I guessed it was just the curse of high school, but I wasn’t going to get hurt living that way again. Label me however you want: loser, geek, outcast, emo kid. I don’t care anymore. Becuase, in reality, I’m going to have to leave all of these people behind one day

I’ve discovered that I get myself stuck in situations caused by my own supressions, but situations which are, indeed, wrong. It’s partly just because of the type of person I am; I’ve had an unconventional adolescence and I usually defend my opinions and emotions with supressive actions or what is simply called “Bottling it all up”. But the other part of it is because I’m a pushover. I let people walk all over me. I let people interrupt me. I let people cancel on me. I let people talk over me. I let people yell at me for expressing an opinion outside of theirs. I let people try to shut me up. And I’m okay with it until I realize that it’s wrong. The worst part about it all is that when I notice what has happened, I get angry. I write about my problems in the most public ways possible, and, most of the time, I end up alienating myself from the people who hurt me the most, which would be great if I actually intended to leave them. But I don’t leave people behind in a second because no good relationships really end that way; they leave you slowly, and leave their footprints behind. It all takes time, and it all takes strength because, in reality, you never want to leave the people who you spend so much time with behind.

End post

March 11th, 2009

Dear diary,

Things Fall Apart in-class essay today. I hate the book, and I haven’t read a page! I should be able to get by though.

The best part abut going to CSG is getting to  have teachers who are also human. It’s not like elementary school or middle school, where teachers are simply illustrated as these immovable powers, because that’s not how they are. My teachers are actually my friends, and when I dsappoint them, I disappoint myself even more.

Dicksorne is a cute couple. I mean, they have the ability to make any school function the most awkward situation ever. Don’t ask me why, but I see Ms. Dickman retiring in a few years to become a full time mom, just like Ms. McGuire.

I have Lily Allen’s “the fear” stuck in my head. I think it may just be the soundtrack of my future, because I am going to make my life fantastic.

I just found God on the corner of Livingston and Alum Creek. There’s a lime green sign with “God” written on it, so I though I could make a joke in relation to “You Found Me” by The Fray.

It’s been an okay day. I actually won some Jack’s Mannequin & Matt Nathanson tickets from WNCI! I lied about the year I was born though, and that makes me nervous as hell, but I’ll be okay!

So, I think I’ve figured out their problem with me. They call me a bitch because they ignore me, I get angry, and, yet, I don’t say anything about it because I’m too used to being ignored by them. then, whenever I step out of line, whenever I do something wrong, they’re there to zap me like an electrical fence for a dog because they think I’m just salty when they’re the cause of my madness. They don’t see how much they hurt me because I can’t find the happiness and joy in coarse rock music and because I’m tired of being a lazy slug; I want to make myself useful, and I’m doing so. If that means I have to lose them, then so be it because I need to make some good ch-ch-ch-ch-changes.

Well, it’s not 6:51 AM on the 12th of March in 2009, so I’ll be going!

Dear diary,

Things Fall Apart in-class essay today. I hate the book, and I haven’t read a page! I should be able to get by though.

The best part abut going to *** is getting to  have teachers who are also human. It’s not like elementary school or middle school, where teachers are simply illustrated as these immovable powers, because that’s not how they are. My teachers are actually my friends, and when I dsappoint them, I disappoint myself even more.

D******** is a cute couple. I mean, they have the ability to make any school function the most awkward situation ever. Don’t ask me why, but I see Ms. D******* retiring in a few years to become a full time mom, just like Ms. M*******.

I have Lily Allen’s “the fear” stuck in my head. I think it may just be the soundtrack of my future, because I am going to make my life fantastic.

I just found God on the corner of Livingston and Alum Creek. There’s a lime green sign with “God” written on it, so I though I could make a joke in relation to “You Found Me” by The Fray.

It’s been an okay day. I actually won some Jack’s Mannequin & Matt Nathanson tickets from ****! I lied about the year I was born though, and that makes me nervous as hell, but I’ll be okay!

So, I think I’ve figured out their problem with me. They call me a bitch because they ignore me, I get angry [and do something stupid, usually involving the internet (do something crazy, do something crazy, do something crazy, do something crazy! Freshmen, freshmen, freshmen, freshmen! Damn you, Asher Roth)], and, yet, I don’t say anything about it because I’m too used to being ignored by them. Then, whenever I step out of line, whenever I do something wrong, they’re there to zap me like an electrical fence for a dog because they think I’m just salty when they’re the cause of my madness. But I’m starting to take solace in the fact that I’m ready to let go of them, and let go of all of that old bull shit; I want to get rid of some of this unnecessary baggage in my life. If that means I have to lose them, then so be it because I need to make some good ch-ch-ch-ch-changes.

Well, it’s now 6:51 AM on the 12th of March in 2009, so I’ll be going!

March 10th, 2009

Dear Diary,

It’s been another day filled with bitch-assness and ignorance. I won’t be surprised if I grow up and am diagnosed with ADD because I often feel invisible. Even when I try to become a part of something, no one cares enough to listen. They only like me when I don’t say anything at all and just supress my emotions, but that hurts me more than it hurts them. They just like it when I’m in pain. the truth is, I’m an asshole, and I’m happy being that way. I’ll call you on your crap if I want to, and I don’t give a damn what you think about it! It’s my life, and it’s your opinion.

In the mean time, the concert on Sunday was seriously depressing. Festivo is the only song I’ve truly disappointed myself with my performance on. I discovered quite a few things. First of all, I don’t really like Coleman. I don’t eally know why I was so attracted to him! I mean, he’s cute, but, quite frankly, he seems a little crazy. I don’t know… a girl’s gotta have standards! Secondly, Matt V. is very awesome. Though I do find him a bit crazy, he counted for me, which was awesome. In fact, I’m almost positive he counts for everyone, which is even more awesome.

Note to self: Rick Brunnetto exists to mentally rape CSG percussionists.

If I could marry any guy in the world, it’d be Bo Burnham. Hands down.

I hate being “the fat chick”. I’ve gained self-confidence in the past year, but I’ve lost self-respect, and I feel that in order to gain that, I need to lose a lot of weight. But I haven’t really been too bad lately considering the circumstances.

I can tell that I’m getting older quickly because I feel like all of these days just run together like the slurring speech of a recession-affected alcoholic. Everytime the bell rings, I preoccupy myself with the idea that if I don’t keep a steady pace as I walk, I’ll trip and break my tablet again. I also always tap the edge of the robotics board in passing as to relieve myself of whatever static electricity I have pent up. I may indeed be forming acute OCD.

I hate it when people don’t realize how socially defective they act most of the time. They’re just stupid.

On FML… “Today, I was sitting in Science class and to my surprise I felt my pants suddenly becoming warm and wet. I looked behind me to see that 4 boys from my class had inserted a small funnel into my exposed buttcrack and where pouring the melted butter from the experiment into that area. FML” VILE. THIS IS WHY HUMANS MAKE ME SICK! THIS IS SO WRONG! I DIDN’T EVEN LAUGH!

In other news, Leon and I didn’t work out. I expected we wouldn’t, but I definitely needed some closure, though that wouldn’t be the best adjective to describe what happened between us. Basically, after this party he went to, his Facebook relationship status changed to “In a Relationship”, which who even knows what that means these days. We were really cool after that until about Saturday when he started acting all weird. It was really odd of him, and it disturbed me. But whatever. His introversion kills my perseption of him, and maybe I’m just going to have to live with the fact that we’re not meant to be. However, I’m still comfortable being good friends with him (mainly because I NEED guy friends; should I put up a posting on Craig’s list looking for a guy best friend?)

I heard a guy at St. charles talking about how he was pretending to be this girl’s Gay best friend, even though he’s not gay. THAT’S disturbing.

I can’t wait for the Thespian trip! I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited for the dance, even though 90% of the guys will prolly be gay. I mean, I want a boyfriend, but a shopping buddy won’t hurt either! Gallery hop would be so much fun if I had a gay best friend. that guy from Wellington was cream of the crop!!!

It’s time to go, diary! I’ll write again tommorow!

So, I’m going to start posting my diary entries on here from last school year. A lot of them were pretty good, and now that I’m over most of the stuff I’ve written about, I figure they may just help spice up this blog.

Dear Diary,

It’s been another day filled with bitch-assness and ignorance. I won’t be surprised if I grow up and am diagnosed with ADD because I often feel invisible. Even when I try to become a part of something, no one cares enough to listen. They only like me when I don’t say anything at all and just supress my emotions, but that hurts me more than it hurts them. They just like it when I’m in pain. The truth is, I’m an asshole, and I’m happy being that way. I’ll call you on your crap if I want to, and I don’t give a damn what you think about it! It’s my life, and it’s your opinion.

In the mean time, the concert on Sunday was seriously depressing. Festivo is the only song I’ve truly disappointed myself with my performance on. I discovered quite a few things. First of all, I don’t really like C******. I don’t really know why I was so attracted to him! I mean, he’s cute, but, quite frankly, he seems a little crazy. I don’t know… a girl’s gotta have standards! Secondly, M****** V. is very awesome. Though I do find him a bit crazy, he counted for me, which was awesome. In fact, I’m almost positive he counts for everyone, which is even more awesome.

Note to self: R*** B******* exists to mentally rape *** percussionists.

If I could marry any guy in the world, it’d be Bo Burnham. Hands down.

I hate being “the fat chick”. I’ve gained self-confidence in the past year, but I’ve lost self-respect, and I feel that in order to gain that, I need to lose a lot of weight. But I haven’t really been too bad lately considering the circumstances.

I can tell that I’m getting older quickly because I feel like all of these days just run together like the slurring speech of a recession-affected alcoholic. Everytime the bell rings, I preoccupy myself with the idea that if I don’t keep a steady pace as I walk, I’ll trip and break my tablet again. I also always tap the edge of the robotics board in passing as to relieve myself of whatever static electricity I have pent up. I may indeed be forming acute OCD.

I hate it when people don’t realize how socially defective they act most of the time. They’re just stupid.

On FML… “Today, I was sitting in Science class and to my surprise I felt my pants suddenly becoming warm and wet. I looked behind me to see that 4 boys from my class had inserted a small funnel into my exposed buttcrack and where pouring the melted butter from the experiment into that area. FML” VILE. THIS IS WHY PEOPLE MAKE ME SICK! THIS IS SO WRONG! I DIDN’T EVEN LAUGH!

In other news, L*** and I didn’t work out. I expected we wouldn’t, but I definitely needed some closure, though that wouldn’t be the best adjective to describe what happened between us. Basically, after this party he went to, his Facebook relationship status changed to “In a Relationship”, which who even knows what that means these days. We were really cool after that until about Saturday when he started acting all weird. It was really odd of him, and it disturbed me. But whatever. His introversion kills my perseption of him, and maybe I’m just going to have to live with the fact that we’re not meant to be. However, I’m still comfortable being good friends with him (mainly because I NEED guy friends; should I put up a posting on Craig’s list looking for a guy best friend?)

I heard a guy at ** talking about how he was pretending to be this girl’s Gay best friend, even though he’s not gay. THAT’S disturbing.

I can’t wait for the Thespian trip! I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited for the dance, even though 90% of the guys will prolly be gay. I mean, I want a boyfriend, but a shopping buddy won’t hurt either! Gallery hop would be so much fun if I had a gay best friend. That guy from Wellington was cream of the crop!!!

It’s time to go, diary! I’ll write again tomorrow!

Nocturnal, Turning, Churning, Burning; Catching my Train of Thought

The feeling I get when I close my eyes, hoping to gain entrance into some immaculate dreamland, is so different from the feeling I get when I close my eyes every night. In my neck of the woods, it is now twenty ’til 5 in the morning. I lay here, on my bed in the stifling heat, which refuses being interrupted by the frantic spinning of the ceiling fan.

First attempt- 3:10 AM. I lay down, my head facing the southern wall. My outer eyelids close for mere seconds, possibly 30, before realizing that sleep couldn’t possibly come that easily.

My mind has conjured that I have two different eyelids; my outer eyelids and my inner eyelids. Whenever I close my outer eyelids, I appear to be falling asleep. I can still see the remnants of light dissolving from my cornea’s view, and here I lie, in limbo; waiting to see if I can get in. I may not be tired, but I’m trying my hardest, damn it, shouldn’t that be enough? Not for dreamland, it seems. So, I guess I’m still a slave to a screen at 5 in the morning. Not to say that these screens aren’t fantastic and fascinating, but I’d prefer my dreams (though when sleep seems unattainable, my dreams seem to be more expensive than these screens I stand by all day, every day.)

Second attempt- 4 AM. “Sleeping to Dream” playlist works sometimes. If nothing else, it confirms that I am actually attempting to get some sleep. It contains songs which would tranquilize even the most excited of chimpanzees in the hot, hot heat of Africa; Eva Cassidy’s “Over the Rainbow”, Jason Mraz’s “Sleeping to Dream”, and even the big guns like “Fix You” by Coldplay (you can’t even drive listening to that.) But Eva Cassidy’s voice sways my mind into staying awake again.

Maybe it’s because, as a child, my parents would often play albums like Quincy Jones’ “Back on the Block” and James Brown’s “The Godfather of Soul”, as well as other priceless albums which now go for a mere $7 digitally. There’s something these MP3’s don’t do for me; they don’t give me anything tangible. Anything real. They give me an imaginary file to listen to on my tangible, mundane iPod, but I digress. Maybe, I’ve always been to lively or aware to easily succumb to the silence, boring nature of sleep. Maybe, I’m afraid of the death that may creep up on me at any moment while my mind has hypnotized me with my fantasies in dream form (just think, if dreams were computer files, what would the extension be?)

Maybe, I’m afraid to let go of it all.

Cowards

I’ve been looking back at this blog, and I’ve realized how much I’ve changed in the past year. This blog has been a sort of diary I’ve held near my heart, until I realized that my writing on this blog about my life was stopping me from really living it the way I wanted to.

I mean, did anyone else realize how much I complained about being bored during the summer? Or my disastrous relationships I had with my (then) friends? In 2009, I’ve really gotten to ask myself, who gives a shit? Though apparently 75,000 have cared enough to stop by this site, it’s kind of outrageous how much of this site is just complaining and whining and bad descriptive adjectives inserted into rhetorically written posts. It was so cowardice and afraid of really dealing with my problems on my own, so I typed them into WordPress.

Though it feels amazing to have others read posts about my life, I had to stop for a very long time so I could get my life together. No, that’s not what it was. So I could live my life to the fullest and experience moments worth writing about. Instead of posting my personal issues online, I typed them into a diary program (which I will post excerpts from in the future on this blog). Eventually, I stopped writing about everything altogether and just started living it all and not giving a damn about telling everybody. And it made me really, really happy. So, in case you’re wondering and you actually like hearing about the things I experience in my life, keep reading this post.

While I was out living my life away, I witnessed the deaths of so many great Americans. Rest in peace, Farrah Fawcett, Michael Jackson, Billy Mays, Walter Cronkite, Frank McCourt, David Carradine, Oscar Mayer, Karl Malden, and Ed McMahon. You will all be missed dearly.

In other news, I’ve been to a couple of concerts. First, I went to a Fall Out Boy concert (because I was dragged there.) All in all, I deducted that Hey Monday is alright, Cobra Starship is amazing, Metro Station doesn’t even deserve to be given any radio time with their crappy live performance, All Time Low is really good (yet, not as good as CS), and Fall Out Boy is just okay (great performance; I still hate their nonsensical lyrics). Then, I went to see The Cab on their headlining show. The venue for this one was a concert basement, which was nice for meeting the performers, but was also terribly hot. He opening acts were My Favorite Highway, Eye Alaska, The Summer Set, and The Secret Handshake; all were pretty good. Most impressive bands were MFH and Eye Alaska. The Summer Set and Secret Handshake were only okay. The Cab was sort of disappointing! Here’s the thing that got me; whenever the Cab’s lead singer would sing a high note, his dynamics would get so wacky he’d sound life a chipmunk! It sounded ridiculous. However, I did love the acoustic they had on stage. In fact, I decided that it’s going to be on my official wish list. A beautiful, black, acoustic-electric guitar stole my heart at a Cab concert. Imagine that.

Anyway, I also realized that I had friends I hadn’t even realized because I’d been caught up with trying to stay friends with people who never really cared about me. There were a few girls who would invite me to parties and sleepovers knowing how conversationally awkward I am, and accept me because of it. Others were nice enough to make me fettuccine Alfredo for lunch as we were making something else, just because they knew of my vegetarianism and didn’t want me to pick any of the meat out of the food. I was absolutely shocked with how nice all these people were, and I wanted to return the favor so badly, when I realized that I have three more years to do so and I shouldn’t waste my time as much as I have in the past.

I fell in love with so many bands that I decided I’d design and start my own music blog. I’m not going to lie, it will definitely be more important that this blog because it will be objective. It will be a blog where you find great music, information about amazing bands you’ve never heard of before, and fall in love with something other than the mainstream. The domain is bought, the layout is made, and now I just have to make some finishing touches. It will be amazing and I hope you love every minute of reading it.

I’m producing a song I wrote a really long time ago because a friend of mine has been wanting to hear it again for a very long time. It’s a great song, and what gets me is that the vocals are so good because I know what they’re supposed to sound like. I’m thrilled to finish it.

So, this has been my life. Please keep visiting the blog because I love writing here and, though it will play second fiddle to my music blog, I vow to post here every once in a while.

Abandonment Issues

I greatly apologize to those of you whom have been checking up on this blog, hoping to see something new and receiving nothing in return. It disappoints me to have to say that I will, probably, end up abandoning this blog in the next couple of months, as I have made the tough decision to solely become a music blogger. I’ve made this decision mainly because I’ve felt more secure and happy with my entries when they have promoted the dreams of often indie artists. However, the entries I’ve written on this blog will still be available for your reading pleasure. Now, let’s continue onto another adventure through my wandering mind, which we’ve learned to call “updates”.

Saw the video Taylor Swift made with T-Pain. I hope she knows how good it feels to be a gangsta now, because I’ve totally lost hope.

Ten years from now, I don’t want to be the same person I am right now. I want to learn more about myself as my years increase. Yet, I know that every decision I make, despite how much or little I may know about myself, may or may not be agreeable. I’m able to then accept and apologize for my imperfections, and hope that the people around me can also accept my imperfections, as I would theirs. Every once in a while, you stumble upon people who aren’t willing to put their pride on the line and do the same. It sickens and saddens me to discover these people, wasting away with nothing but their deteriorating corpses and their winning smiles. But all you can really do for those people is let them go, make sure you aren’t one of those people, and hope, pray, and believe you won’t be one of those people ten years from now.

Important things with Demetri Martin. Maybe that’s what I meant by more important things.

Actual proof that I am, in fact, a certifiable band geek: I was calling in to talk to one of my favorite musicians on the telephone. It was one of those weird hotline deals where you call and the band leaves a message and you (hopefully don’t) leave a message back. Well, I had actually gotten through to this particular musician. Needless to say, I was a bit frazzled. I then proceeded to initiate one of the most awkward, weird, dorky conversations I’d ever been a part of. I began with the stereotypical “Oh my gosh”, then proceeded to mention my favorite song of the particular musician’s, and, finally, finished off the conversation with the reasons I liked their music so much, many of which included their uses of percussion instruments I actually play on a weekly basis. The musician, worn out by my rambling and even a bit frazzled himself by this point, finally ended the pow-wow with “Well, listen, we’ve got a ton of other callers, but it’s been really nice talking with you, and I hope to talk again some other time during office hours!” I hung up the phone, with a witness to my geekiness in the band department. And, despite my apparent embarrassment, I was a bit proud.

The other day, I found myself contemplating what my favorite love song actually was. I remembered making a playlist of addiction with love songs, but none of them, as I really remembered, were actually my favorite love songs. I concluded that, of all of the love songs I’d ever listened to, my favorite had to be “Romeo and Juliet” by Dire Straits. This may be an odd selection, but I love the song because it seems so cliché at first, and then it’s obvious that this is an imperfect love song, which, in reality, chronicles a heartbreak. But it does actually do what I feel a love song should really do. It shouldn’t make someone want to experience love so badly just because they want to fully grasp the understanding of the song itself. It should make the listener realize the pain that falling from love can cause and, through that realization, help them understand love more clearly. I feel this song really redefined what a love song should be, while also having a beautiful melody.

How about this. Let’s all buy Franz Ferdinand’s “Tonight” album! I have no idea how, but this album has totally rocked my world. All I can really promise from this album is awesome melodies and rhythms and bearable (aka good, for the most part) lyrics.

Every time I do one of those weird Facebook-note interrogation surveys, I always stumble upon the question “Have you ever cried when someone died?” I always just end up asking myself, “Does it really matter? Does it say something about me if I have, out of love for the dearly departed? Is that really bad? Does anyone really want to know this about me?” Then, I realize I’m on Facebook, and no one really reads that kind of crap anyway.

While we’re talking about Facebook, a while ago I had been talking to an old friend of my sisters. I’d started getting the feeling that the guy sort of liked me, and I was feeling happy about it. Then, he asked me to clarify whether I was older than my sister or not. When I told him that I was actually two years younger than her, he stopped talking to me. I actually found the whole situation pretty funny.

Maybe I should end this post with something funny. Or cute. Or both?

G’day.

The Players Club: How Monogamy is Becoming Obsolete, and Why the Media Could Be To Blame

Watching the preview for the next episode of “Daisy of Love” on VH1 somehow got a rise from me as I processed the little information given. It seems like on the next episode, Daisy de la Hoya, Bret Michael’s ex pleasure fucker, will find out that “Fox”, the resident pretty boy (I use the term lightly because I personally don’t find him very attractive), already has a girlfriend. On the commercial, when Daisy confronts him, he responds with a sort of “so what, whatever, who cares” attitude, surely curing her with his sweet kisses, and trying to make it seem like what he was doing wasn’t neccesarily wrong, but that it was just part of who he is.

Somehow, my criticism halts. I’m not calling him a man whore. I’m not calling him a player. I’m not really calling him a man either, but I don’t neccesarily think any of the men who choose to be on these “looking for love on TV” shows are really real men. But let’s look at the situation: Daisy is looking to find love in 18 guys, whom she’ll slowly start to eliminate throughout the “competition” to gain her love. It’s the template for reality television on VH1, with shows like “Real Chance of Love”, “I Love New York”, “Flavor of Love”, and “Rock of Love”. As the shows progress, these people are to have felt more of a connection with those they choose to keep in their house. Usually by the season finale, the main character (Daisy, New York, Bret, Flavor, Real, Chance, dopey, sleepy, sneezy, doc, etc.) is to have felt a connection with the last two people remaining on the show, so they go of to some tropical adventure and chronicle the individual relationships the characters have with each other. It’s intriguining because it is trulyfollowing the love triangle.

So, this brings me back to the case of  ”Fox”. How can Daisy really judge him when she is currently pursuing eight different guys? Is she really one to judge? Should the producers have said during the auditions, “single guys only”? The last question is an obvious “yes”, but the others, maybe not.

So what really is monogamy anymore? When companies try profiting off the idea of someone falling in love through the process of casting calls, auditions, and a television show, can we really call it love? Here we are, living in this generation where these shows are so comically entertaining, yet so morally wrong.

Then, we look at the everyday. We all know of a relationship which has been torn apart because of infedelities. Just off the top of my head, John and Kate from “John and Kate plus Eight” have entered the vicious realm of global judgement because of their infidelities while bbeing in the public eye. Yet, with an estimated 30% to 60% of all married couples predicted to face an infidelity, who are we to judge? It’s become so common, that we’ve somehow justified it, using terms like “player” to describe someone who is actually cheating on their significant other. Have we forgotten this is a sin, or is it just another curse of our generations?