wake up, don't break a sweat

clearly caught between two things unclear to me.

i need to DP.

Infection

My hands are covered in these small bumps, standing in bas-relief, high above the rest of my finger flesh. Every instinct in my primitive body is telling me to feed these bumps, to itch the hell out of them viciously and repeatedly until the itch dissipates (the itch never dissipates.) Instead, they grow and grow into mushy inflamed expectations that just plead constantly for a growing amount of attention. My fingers are now large round sausages, red with frustration and stinging with dissatisfaction. The only remedy is to run them under full-force, flowing ice water. Within a few seconds, I can feel my flesh, my blood, my muscles, my bones, turn numb. My fingers are now disillusioned to the pain, hiding behind ice from the streaks of poison ivy. The ignorance sure is bliss. And bliss means happiness, and happiness means living large! (for three.) And nothing else seems to matter quite so much, even those basic primitive instincts (such as compassion maybe?) Maybe i'm just not suppose to have such tangible feelings to peter pan. I know never ever land would never yield fulfillment for my simple little life, but it just seems so much easier.

Summer Heat

june 19 12:26 a.m i would like to proudly report that i am genuinely, purely, innocently happy.

Hands to the Universe

meeting those who:
open eyelids
encourage expression
cause that feeling of comfort inside, that feeling that is so rarely is sparked these days.

thanks.

Linger On

It was somewhere along the route between Ithaca and White Plains where we stopped at an old, run-down gas station. The air conditioning in our silver outback gave the false hope that the atmosphere was cooling- that my things weren't going to stick together when I exited the car. With the opening of the door, I was confronted with the brick wall of humidity, and reality sunk into my pores. I entered under the sign that read "Country Store" and gave the girl working at the counter a slight smile. This was the kind of country store that smelled of beer and stale cardboard, where the candy packages are coated with a shallow layer of dust. I patrolled the candy isle; halloween theme peanut butter cups, "limited edition" starbursts whos limit was much too long ago. I chose the sweet&sour gummie lifesavers because they looked interesting, took a water bottle from the refrigerator, and payed the girl $2.61. My Dad was in the distance of the parking lot, slumped with low spirits as he has been since his accident. I sat on the cracked picnic table and allowed my lungs to fill with the heavy air, thinking about all that dusty candy in the Country Store. What happens when we, ourselves, become dusty? Even if our package is outdated and expired, can't we still be sweet and satisfying underneath? I don't want to be a limited edition, something that will soon be of interest to no one.

I returned to the car and basked in the fresh air conditioning, as it dried up all my reality. Back on the road, moving from point A to point B. 'Lingering on' as life often does, accumulating dust until our time here expires.

Mixture

My Dad has been using the same shampoo for as long as my nasal senses can recall. I used to find the smell putrid, and would fan my face in a desperate desire for the fumes to dissipate. But tonight, as I was bogged by amsco cards and the haunting conscience of all the things I was neglecting to do, I found nothing but pure comfort in this smell. It reflected everything I love about my dad and everything bright that my future holds. I did not want these feelings to dissipate, not at all. I clung to the fumes for as long as they remained in the air, clinging to this feeling of hope and happiness.

This morning I returned to the halls of highschool after the week's vacation. Minutes after entering my hallway, I was consumed by hassle. Pressure, sticky unwanted warmth, sagging spirits, as if it was causing every junior physical pain to be present in that hallway. I was surrounded by, and witnessing physical pain. Realizing this I felt the need to keep moving, and escape. On my way down the hall I almost stepped directly on a puffy white face, belonging to a thin boy in a flannel tshirt. He lay motionless on the cold hallway tiles, and every surrounding face remained motionless as we all starred in horror at his limp body. This kid looked like a corpse. Laying in the middle of our cold, painful junior hallway. And not one person thought to seek help. If this incident was filmed, it could have been used as a documentary of stereotypical highschool behavior. Being concerned with little more than your own well being. I felt the need to escape this horrifying place where compassion is a phantom, nonexisting feeling. 7 weeks to go.

I guess I can sleep now. Now that I am tired. I am so tired.

My Neck My Back

I just got invited to a beer pong tournament via facebook, prize is $222. Thanks Anya Lake<3<3<3

I cannot get this song out of my head, its just too classy.

Adjust

I just came home and found a basket full of discounted easter candy on my bed. And I also drove home listening to Arcade Fire. These were high points of my day. Aside from those, I remain disconnected. Indeed, we're just a million little gods, causing rain storms turning every good thing into rust.

Sir, Keep On Believing

I am sleeping with my eyes wide open. Wide awake to the sense of touch, or the lack of touch for that matter. Touch is vibrant; it lets you know you are alive even when your brain is sinking into the abyss of daze. My hands were made to be clasped, my shoulders to be hugged. I crave that sense of connection, belonging to the mold that forms between two bodies.

I have found three friends in unexpected places this week. These friendships aren't going to last through the year, much less through my lifetime. These short surprises of companionship are what excites me most about highschool though. All three of them brightened my days, and I will remember them and their impact most at the end of this week.

The Penalty by Beirut

Huh?

do you ever just feel disillusioned to the world? like almost as if your mind is saying "what are you doing here?" it is kind of scary to feel like you don't fit. meaningless, or belonging-less. i have to write something creative for passover at the hersh's tomorrow. i am at a loss. is dancing my only artistic quality? i would gladly express myself through dance, but that sort of talent isn't exactly.. portable. i was just informed by mrs nicastro that my writing is D quality. I HATE THE CONCEPT OF GRADED WRITING. i can't help but let that encourage me to never write again ha, how depressing. blahhh this week has potential to be one of the best in a long long time, but i recently discovered that expectations don't always carry out the way they were planned.

and i miss emily friedman, that wild sweet love.

but we'll fight

the good seems fucking cheap,

and it teases you for weeks in its absence.

jeff friedman made me a CD and i love it dearly. why were the youth of the 60s and 70s so damn passionate and thriving, in comparison to us? i like letting emotions out of me. i think thats what they are made for, to be let out. i think tink tnk tk k.

Your Life, and My Life

You make me so tired. I want no part of this shit. What now?

Now I've been leaning towards a life far more caring,
thrown back through the dark with your eyes as my candles.

whipping me into a storm, shaking me down to the core

whose side are you on?

what side is this anyway?

put down your sword and crown

come lay with me on the ground

ima cut my hair and wash my feet. down the drain will go the blood and sting and pity. all thats left is the raw anger that lays on my red raw skin, red from the blood that is flowing down the drain along side the sting and pity. i will cut these locks, the ones who are withering with winter sadness. i will wash my new hair with vitamin D from the sun's shine. i will lay on your bed in that one strip of sunlight, the one that glistens deep within your understanding face muscles. that raw skin will heal into a calloused shield, defending my weaknesses. i will cradle the hands of these new friendships with tender love and care, and learn from all your kindness. the sting and pity will come back on those down swoops, but the cycle keeps on turning. on we go with being 'just fine' and loving what we got. i see the light in the eyes of kingdom spring- take me there.

you come beating like moth's wings, spastic and violently

ouch

God or Science or Whatever

It is pretty damn frightening when you find striking differences between yourself and another. This particular other is one who you supposedly bear close resemblance to, not only by the eyes but by the mind and heart as well. If you are so different from the person closest to you, then really who do we have with us in this roaming lonely world? Beyond the hopeless ponder of this question, I found a gleam of positivity. We are all snowflakes! (hello extremely cliché metaphor) But really, you go ahead and follow that crowd. Abide to the trends of fashion, the rules of society. Accept the norm, and conform to the majority. No matter how hard your efforts push you to be just the same, you will never escape your unique individuality. The human is a delicately composed masterpiece, hand crafted by science or God or whatever you chose to believe. Between the cool of my dad and the hot of my mom, I have found myself in the middle where both the boiling point and freezing point can be [mostly] avoided. I feel the rush of emotions when necessary and don't even consider the option to hold them back. (thank you mom) And I have found the power that a simple breathe and two attentive ears can give you. (thank you dad) I love my parents. More than God or science or the conformity of society, they have taught me what will (hopefully) guide me in dealing with a wide variety of circumstances throughout life.

I want to tell every single person exactly how I feel about them. YOU (all of you) don't know how much I respect you! Why is the fear of their reaction holding me back? Who the hell taught us to fear like this?!

AH and the beatniks! Too much to say, too many amsco cards to finish. Byebye blogger. The song of the day is 'imma buy you a drank' by.. t-pain. oooo-weeee-oooo.

A Decade to Make One Proud

can there be growth without conscious direction and meaning?

nothing is more hopeless than planned happiness.

Li u

nothing like falling asleep to the pitter-patter of rain. is that you i hear, spring?

and i ask you, whats love got to do, got to do with it?

Slush.

dear winter,

YOU SUCK.

Bright

the backspace button was used much too often today, everytime i began to type the word 'sanctuary.' santuary.. saunctuary.. sanctary (they are all apparently incorrect)

joey has a strange kind of humor that makes me feel so comfortable, and accustomed. being able to smile when someone calls you an asshole, thats when you can give yourself a pat on the back for developing a rest easy friendship. while talking to him, i was chatting it up with joe sax, my former fellow delegate from the model un conference. i felt a constant fluster and nervousness, trying to keep up with his classical music, novel suggestions and palestinian-news outrage. talk about intimidating.

i have found a new love for brights. bright personalities, clothing, skies, teeth, eyes. i want to be around people who shine out their personalities, no matter what they contain. even if all they want to talk about is classical music and the koran. if it excites you, it makes me smile (even if just on the inside) do you think that maybe it is a subconscious thing, that bright colors attract others? maybe thats why generically, people with white teeth and eyes that sparkle are considered beautiful. so, if you have an equally glowing and exuberant personality, won't others be equally drawn to it? encouragement to all: spill out your personality, it is beautiful! you have nothing to lose!

and i hope that you especially, you little 'hip' girl, know that your brightness comes in so much more than the emerald gleam of your eyes and the straightening, sleek shine of your hair. you are equally as beautiful to the blind, as your warmth love and passion floods the hearts of all who surrounds you. you are a leader- leading those who have closed their hopeless minds- out to a world where everyone gets a second chance. where everyone gets time to tell their story, where everyone can be bright.

song of the day: gracie by ben folds. so much sweetness.

K@l3dge!

Currently, I am sitting on the 9th floor of the W.E.B Du Bois library on the umass amherst campus. All of the people around me are sitting, plugged into ipods, clearly escaped from pesky distraction of human interaction. I can't help but wonder what they are listening to, thinking about, caring about, concerned about. College life is weird. Everything seems to move very slowly, like they have all the time in the world. You have a week in between class sessions, every hour in the night to spend with friends, and a constant source of endless opportunities. Phoebe always says she feels like she enters a strange little oasis of euphoria when at school, so separate from the real world. Last night I met Pat and Dan, and we sat at dinner discussing what a 'sex column' would be like if responses were given by a man. I kind of lost my appetite, but more so from a laughter-driven stomach ache than from the actual content of the conversation. Oh! And revelation- high school drama does not end in high school. Oh, kawledge. Definitely a considerable light at the end of this wachusett tunnel we are all stuck in. 

I have STILLL yet to prove to myself that I have it in me, to finish all homework, thoroughly, with ample time to be stressless. They have a little coffee cart in the lobby of this library called "Procrastination Station." You can bet I took advantage of that thing. 

Scrim

Today was so surreal. School was fast paced and I felt like I had a scrim in front of my face the entire time. Like as if every single person who walked by me was hiding something HUGE, and I would strain my corneas to see passed the netting, but no luck.

When I got home, I watched an episode of 24 where Jack Bauer got kidnapped by Russian mobsters. He was purposefully putting himself in danger's way, so he could get to the conspiracy behind the nuclear rods. (Have I mentioned that I love 24? So much?) At the end, I fell asleep and dreamt of prom. Prom was [logically] being held in a shopping mall, and Mr. Bronson was there DPing it up. All of the sudden, I was being held captive by Russian mobsters, and I wasn't blessed with badass escape skills like Jack. As you can probably imagine.. this was terrifyingly realistic.

I awoke to the shake of my house's structure, as the basement door was slammed closed. My heart was booming with confusion to as why I was no longer being tortured by Russians. I remained sloth-like on the couch, realizing the consequences to sleeping with plastic in your eyes. The fire was blasting heat and my face was pressed and marked with couch texture. The scrim had just gotten twice as dark, and my entire house was soaked with silence. I urged myself to get up to make sure I was in fact conscious. Proceeding to pace around the house, I noticed my mom, book in hand, eyelids shut. It had started to snow, so silently. I ate a peanut m&m and winced with the echoing bang when the second one hit the floor. Damn scrim, I couldn't see anything. Why was it that my dreams were so much clearer and detailed and filled than my reality ? I softly fell back down into my imprint on the couch and decided that if this wasn't peace, there is no chance of it actually existing. I sneezed 3 times, read one page of my history text book, and then couldn't help but to surrender to the weight of my eyelids. Back into my scrim-less world I went.

Physical Aching for Spring

Kid, i miss you. Lets frolic and eat pesto and sit on the steps to a concert stage together, while the sun sets on Comet pond. Please relentlessly blast that summer mix, just like we did on those purest days of my life.

A Cold Weekend

One hour ago, my heart was whizzing. I was feeling alive and vivacious and I was ready for something to happen. I had reached a revelation and I was all set to blog this catharsis of a blog and tie one huge knot as an acceptance to all the events that happened this weekend. I read Emily's blog and she made me want to run and scream and hug and agree, all the time. Well no, not really run because my body doesn't like doing that very much, despite how satisfactory the concept sounds. How tempting, to let the combination of internal drive and the power engines of your legs carry you from point A to point B. I imagine the knowledge of your self-success is pleasing. Maybe I will try running sometime.

I have found two pillars. They came to the rescue this weekend, and held up my foundation, preventing it from crumbling into a pit of worthless sorrow. They are tall and strong and have goals in life. Together we ventured out into the land of vulnerability, and relapsed back into the fetal position deep within the crevices of my bed sheets. I don't think they realize how impossible these days would have been without them. Impossible to the point where I was subconsciously accepting the fact that I was going to go numb. I was going to stay in that state of denial, and refuse to sink my fingers into the flesh of this utter desperation. Staring into blank space, concentrating solely on the rhythmic rasp of my breaths. All because this is what I am good at, it is how I cope without letting anxiety overcome me with irrational fears and worries. But you know what?! Times like these the only justified answer is mounds and mounds of anxiety. Sobs, clenched bodies, sickened stomachs, headaches, dizziness, hyperventilation. Every single bit of it at the time sucks. I can't count how many times I moved the trash can just a little bit closer to me, as assurance that my potential throw up would not land on my carpet.

This weekend brought the coldest weather we have had during this winter. Doing what I always do, I couldn't help but relate this directly to the events of this weekend. Funerals are cold, no matter what the season. Bodies are cold when their blood is swapped with formaldehyde. Our lungs were cold when the frigid air entered through desperate gasps.

The cold, the tears, the formaldehyde. Crisp cracks in your hands. Waxy skin and red-skinned face, ruffles on your shirt and a pat of the back. Tears trickled down your cleavage and a used tissue was left in my pocket. The pizza was burnt, and your teacher arrived. Heavy hearted, fine eyed and ready, mascara streaked with anger to the brim. Questions of 'how?' escaped, interrupted with laugh like sobs. Ruuuuush. I feel so alive.

while i'm alive i'll feel alive

and what's next?

i guess i'll know when i've gotten there.

am i careful, until past dull,

will be is or has been.

hope i'm waxing as in half full.

Nausea

on the floor, at the great divide

with my shirt tucked in, and my shoes untied

i am crying in the bathroom

Have you ever had an injury, one that has the capability to hinder your performance in all ways? And you do nothing but dream of days when said ailment ceased to exist? Over and over again, scenarios are screeching by. Saying what could have or should have changed, how the itching, pulling, tearing, torture of your muscles is a constant reality in your nervous system. Denial, acceptance, cover-up; they will not alter the reality, they will merely form a 'new normal.' An adjustment to a prerogative, regardless of what could have or should have been done. And that is the way injury sinks in.

I sat at your knees today, crying into the hardness of your jeans. We locked the doors, and increased the volume knob on the radio to drown out the sobs. From there I went searching for safety. And a safe island, that it was. A haven for the torn, the shredded, the hollow. I rested there, with my face pressed into the plush forgiveness of the pillow. All around me were entangling alliances, entangled limbs. Bearing dead weight down upon me, sinking pressure into my shell of a body. Or maybe it was just that weight of the air, so filled with emotions. I wanted to push it all off with every bit of strength I possessed. I wanted to fight back; as if I wasn't helpless. With my attempts, I came faced with the fact that I had none. My strength was disappearing, I was withering into a fading abyss of naivety. My stomach was empty but my heart was filled to the brim, overflowing with emotions whose existence I was unaware of. My arms felt numb. The blood had halted its flow, turning my clenched fists into something of the past. As we were driving from the red house, the one beside the red barn, I clenched your hand. We formed a fist, and found remnants of the broken strength. A deep breathe and a reluctant heart beat, we were on our way to the dangers, loneliness, stark bare 'real world'. The world where you need a defense to even fight your own body. That body who has suddenly turned against you in a whirlwind of sickness. Strength from the support of your clench, from the forgiveness of your pillow, from the overflow of my heart. Strength to discover that new normal. I hope you feel this strength.

and the cardinal hits the window.

Payne-Aldrich Treaty

Hopefully I will recall the struggles and torture this day gave to me, next time I set out to memorize every historical event that occurred within a 100 year time span.

Aside from all of that, this weekend was all nice. Friday night I came home to a dimly lit house, where my Dad was sitting wrapped in a knitted afghan. He was watching Frost/Nixon, and drinking tea (per-usual.) The safety that was encompassed in this scenario was so pleasing, I re-fell in love with my house.

Oh yeah, why am I blogging again? Silly me to think I had time to do something other than read amsco. A creative re-birth will come on Tuesday at 11:55.

like a backdrop of sails, all aglow from the light,

you stand there, your wicked blood and your curls.

Midterm Loving

I do not understand how my brain is suppose to go about retaining all this information. And why is it, that remembering 3.78L=1gal is seemingly more difficult than remembering dance steps. Or how to walk, speak, breathe, talk, write. My brain can work some miracles.. but chemistry is not one of them.

23

You give me solid 23 minutes of smiling, even though your hair is liked greased lightening.

Let Them Seize The Way

To be honest, I have been corrupted by the blogging world. That is probably the wrong word choice, but it sounds like it accurately describes my lack of will to post. I can't remember what I am blogging for anymore. Which leads me to thoughts of, why do it if there is no purpose? I don't know. I'll just make documenting lists.

1. I got my license. Wooooo! I guess it really is a large stepping stone on the rungs of life. Saturday was such a crisp day. I actually found myself giving winter some credit for finding something beautiful to show us. The sky could have been mistaken for a summer shade of blue, and the air had a flavor of spring, shielded of course by the overpowering chill. I drove home with my windows open, something that I closely link with listening to Paul Simon in that golden Maxima.

2. I spent a lot of time with my family this weekend. We saw Loudon Wainwright III, and I remembered how nostalgic I grow for my childhood when I hear folk music. Phoebe and I sang a lot together. She is getting pretty fluid at playing the guitar, and I withhold my talent of harmonizing (hitting every single note but the correct one) when singing. She got swallowed up by Amherst today, but I wasn't so sad this time. I am learning how to stand strong on my own.

3. Erin and I were first hand witnesses to a severe felony. We crossed paths with professional shoplifters at the mall tonight. They are nicknamed the 'Night Sisters' because they always strike at closing hours of the mall. It was totally the real deal, chase down, get away car and all. Yeah, NBD.

4. And an even a more rewarding moment that I witnessed, was my dearest friends growing comfortable with things they had never felt right doing before. A little taste of confidence that has the potential to grow into something so much more. I am simply inflated with love when I see you squint, beam a smile, a contract with laughter. I'm a witness to change.

5. I grew increasingly paranoid and jealous. Ahhhhhh get out of me! You are not welcomed here.

Gatsby

"there are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy, and the tired" - nick carraway

i don't know if any of them seem particularly enjoyable, but what a wise quote it is.

Stella

As previously stated this week;

You gwyne to have considerable trouble in yo' life, en considable joy. Sometimes you gwyne to git hurt, en sometimes you gwyne to git sick; but every time you's gwyne to git well agin.

Soon I will be ready to git well agin, but right now grieving takes priority. This blog is dedicated to everyone who had tears rolling down their cheeks today. And to Stella.

the road

if this week was a road, it would be made up of primarily cobblestone. a consistent forth coming of bumps and mishaps. due to the millions of travelers upon this path, there is much destruction; pot holes everywhere. heart break, failure, disease, disappointment, surgery, tears, entrapment. every traveler, it seems, has fallen into one pot hole or another. redemption comes every few hundred feet, when a glimmering ray of sunshine trickles down upon the cold-stricken ground. sunshine coming in the form of a warm pressed hug of endearment, a sweater with a familiar scent, a simple thoughtful comment, a mix CD from the heart of a most dear friend, a reach for contact through the separation of our desks, a consistent stream of longed-for goodnight wishes. the road will end with impact, relief, and a seldom thought of mistakes made. the sunshine has given us a more than adequate amount of vitamin D, we are now thriving with love.

Ventalation

is it the salt in tears, that make them sting your cheeks when dried there? i was in the car tonight, headed in the familiar direction of home. the 22 degree cold inhibited my lungs with my sporadic and spastic breathing. there was jazz music on, loud enough to seep up any spare noises in the confined space. my hand rested upon the cracked skin that wraps the bones in my dad's fingers. 'proximal phalange, middle phalange, distal phalange'- i guess they are named in latin. street lights fuzzed into lost hope as the tears welded in my eye sockets. here i was sitting, discovering places where i am currently resting on false happiness. must learn to accept, confront, live through these things in my life. and thats the way its going to happen.

but now i have to go put a blanket, a facade and a fraud chuckle on these emotions. green gloves by the national is song of the day.

Picking Apples, Making Pies

turn the light out, say goodnight

no thinking for a little while

This 'group' shit is getting way out of hand. I have been living in a lala of gratitude to all of the great friendships I have been forming in these past few months. I think i'm hogging all the happiness here. And I am left with nothing to say but "I feel so bad!" heart-broken, pain struck by the discomfort of others. Trying to help doesn't always succeed in making a difference, but right now I think it is the best I can do.

I'm getting gum surgery on Friday mmmm.

let's not try to figure everything out at once

it's hard to keep track of you falling through the sky

we're half awake, in a fake empire

Twenty Ten

I have started reading The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn for English. As the days of vacation rolled by, and this book remained untouched, I would grow more and more evasive to the sinking guilt inside me. So many other thoughts are linked to procrastination- failure, cheating, stupidity, laziness. Last night, as I melted into the zebra print of Phoebe's snuggie, by the fire, I opened the pages of my guilt. I made eye contact, focused, listened, and accepted it all. And you know what? Nothing bad happened! I was happy. As I felt Stella's seasoned body mold into the spaces between my thighs, my mind was also molding around the wise words of Jim:

You gwyne to have considerable trouble in yo' life, en considable joy. Sometimes you gwyne to git hurt, en sometimes you gwyne to git sick; but every time you's gwyne to git well agin.

Everything suddenly became one huge metaphor, all twisted about into a web of realization and change. I seem to do that a lot, link everything. Because really, if you think hard enough, you can make everything relate. Here was the new year- a clean slate of opportunity.

Trying to re-capsulate 2009 was nearly impossible. One major thing I realized this year is that I have severe troubles controlling the amount that my sister effects me. Everything she thinks, does, wears, says, listens to, subconsciously crawls into my brain and massacres all of my own thoughts. In so many ways, I owe her the most sincere form of gratitude for this. In the latter years of this century she has widened my mind so far that sometimes it hurt. Introduced to countless amounts of music, movies, ideas. She made me confident, happy, and made me laugh more than anyone else ever has. I consider myself so lucky to have a guiding force like you in my life, Pheebs. I get extremely frightened when I think of myself without you. But all of this influence is only healthy to a certain extent. I realized this on September 6th, this past year, when the ending of our childhood together was finalized. I cried so hard. I was mercilessly terrified, not knowing that I could stand strong, alone on my own two wide feet. That last hug symbolized so much more than the physical separation of our bodies. It was an opportunity for me, one that I was in great need of. And now I am just rambling and being dramatic. But basically what I owe is a one huge lard of a thank you.

And to put it simply, in regards to every friend I have found something special in this year: i have arms for them. You are who I want to build myself out of, learn with, experience high school with. Aren't we so fortunate to have found such love?

To Do List of One Ohh

- learn
- read
- write
- accomplish
- travel
- succeed
- love
- build
- bake
- enable
- laugh
- help
- give
- warm another
- express
- create
- cry
- clean
- breathe in new air