Sam told me last night over texting that apparently she used to cut herself a lot more than I was aware of, though the last time she did it was in April. And also she said that she was much more serious about thoughts of suicide this summer as opposed to last summer.
I punched the crap out of my pillow and then I started crying. I don't know why. Empathy is a powerful thing.
You must have been in a place so dark,
You couldn't feel the light reachin' for you through that stormy cloud.
Now here we are gathered in our little hometown,
This can't be the way you meant to draw a crowd.
Oh why?
That's what I keep asking.
Was there anything I could've said or done?
Oh, I had no clue you were masking atroubled soul,
God only knows what went wrong,
And why you would leave the stage in the middle of a song
Now in my mind I'll keep you frozen as a seventeen-year-old,
Rounding third to score the winning run.
You always played with passion,
No matter what the game.
When you took the stage you'd shine just like the sun.
Oh why?
That's what I keep asking.
Was there anything I could've said or done?
Oh, I had no clue you were masking atroubled soul,
God only knows what went wrong,
And why you would leave the stage in the middle of a song
Now the oak trees are swaying,
In the early autumn breeze.
A golden sun is shining on my face,
Through tangled thoughts,
I hear a mockingbird sing
This old world really ain't that bad of a place.
Oh why?
There's no comprehending,
And who am I to try to judge or explain?
Oh, but I do have one burning question;
Who told you life wasn't worth the fight?
They were wrong, they lied.
Now you're gone and we cry
'Cause it's not like you to walk away in the middle of a song.
Your beautiful song,
Your absolutely beautiful song.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Friday, August 7, 2009
If it makes you happy, then why the hell are you sad?
Dear, God, Buddha , Natalie, whoever is looking down on me,
What do you have against me, exactly?
It seems that it's either karma, irony or just bad luck but whenever I do something or make some sort of completely accurate generalization about something, it seems to come back to haunt me almost immediately. Think I'm kidding?
Back in October, I had made up my mind (during Science class because I hate Science class and I reach my brilliant realizations when I should be learning about stars or something) that I want every single boy who wears his pants below his waist and thinks he's Eminem to die painfully. Not even two days later did a boy from my Science class (who I'm pretty sure prays to Tupac every night that he can be hood like the boys from his video games) asks me out.
Two or three days ago, Kayla and I watched 'Boy Interrupted' which is about this whiny little boy who had Bipolar depression and killed himself when he was 15. Boo-fucking-hoo. We only watched it because it was on TiVo and there is no such thing as interesting daytime TV. Anyway, the point is, it pissed me off and I went on a rant about how I hate suicidal kids and how they whine and how weak they are how and how we as humans have one job in life and that is to be alive and they can't handle it (real Grade A stuff, if you ask me.) Where's the irony? According to Sam's recent blog posts, well, I'm going to have to be on suicide/depression watch again. Awesome.
Did I mention that I hate my life?
No?
Okay, well, I hate my life.
Michael Jackson's death uproar aside, now Sam seems to think that I am replacing her with Laurie.
T_T
Seriously. As if I of all people would ever inflict the only serious emotional trauma I've received onto someone I actually care about. Laurie is not replacing Sam. I don't know how many times I can say it.
But being 100%, I felt my anti-suicide rant was justified. I hate suicidal people. I don't give a fuck if it sounds cruel. The Rascal Flatts song 'Why' just came on shuffle and it's about suicide and I don't like it. At all. I only have it on iTunes because Jay's voice makes me happy and he talks in the beginning of the song. But, the point I'm trying to make is, I'm just sick of all this drama all the time. When does life get peaceful?
Sam according to her blog, that I'm never around to talk or something? I have no idea. She's acting like I'm a different person just because I have a new friend. Though, lately, I do feel a little bit different. I let go of 7th grade, finally. It was to me what 8th grade was to Sam. It was the year I had to let go of to move forward. I do feel better now that I have moved past it but it isn't as big a difference as I assumed. But I DID move past it and that's all that matters to me.
I don't write Slade.
I don't like Andrew.
I don't talk to Nicole.
I don't hate Tom.
I'm not even 100% sure if 'So Hard' is my favorite song anymore.
And I'm okay with this. I've grown up. I'm glad to say so. I don't want to be the same kid I was back then. But that doesn't have any relevance to Sam and my friendship.
Whatever. I'm tired. Forget this.
What do you have against me, exactly?
It seems that it's either karma, irony or just bad luck but whenever I do something or make some sort of completely accurate generalization about something, it seems to come back to haunt me almost immediately. Think I'm kidding?
Back in October, I had made up my mind (during Science class because I hate Science class and I reach my brilliant realizations when I should be learning about stars or something) that I want every single boy who wears his pants below his waist and thinks he's Eminem to die painfully. Not even two days later did a boy from my Science class (who I'm pretty sure prays to Tupac every night that he can be hood like the boys from his video games) asks me out.
Two or three days ago, Kayla and I watched 'Boy Interrupted' which is about this whiny little boy who had Bipolar depression and killed himself when he was 15. Boo-fucking-hoo. We only watched it because it was on TiVo and there is no such thing as interesting daytime TV. Anyway, the point is, it pissed me off and I went on a rant about how I hate suicidal kids and how they whine and how weak they are how and how we as humans have one job in life and that is to be alive and they can't handle it (real Grade A stuff, if you ask me.) Where's the irony? According to Sam's recent blog posts, well, I'm going to have to be on suicide/depression watch again. Awesome.
Did I mention that I hate my life?
No?
Okay, well, I hate my life.
Michael Jackson's death uproar aside, now Sam seems to think that I am replacing her with Laurie.
T_T
Seriously. As if I of all people would ever inflict the only serious emotional trauma I've received onto someone I actually care about. Laurie is not replacing Sam. I don't know how many times I can say it.
But being 100%, I felt my anti-suicide rant was justified. I hate suicidal people. I don't give a fuck if it sounds cruel. The Rascal Flatts song 'Why' just came on shuffle and it's about suicide and I don't like it. At all. I only have it on iTunes because Jay's voice makes me happy and he talks in the beginning of the song. But, the point I'm trying to make is, I'm just sick of all this drama all the time. When does life get peaceful?
Sam according to her blog, that I'm never around to talk or something? I have no idea. She's acting like I'm a different person just because I have a new friend. Though, lately, I do feel a little bit different. I let go of 7th grade, finally. It was to me what 8th grade was to Sam. It was the year I had to let go of to move forward. I do feel better now that I have moved past it but it isn't as big a difference as I assumed. But I DID move past it and that's all that matters to me.
I don't write Slade.
I don't like Andrew.
I don't talk to Nicole.
I don't hate Tom.
I'm not even 100% sure if 'So Hard' is my favorite song anymore.
And I'm okay with this. I've grown up. I'm glad to say so. I don't want to be the same kid I was back then. But that doesn't have any relevance to Sam and my friendship.
Whatever. I'm tired. Forget this.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Let's go Murph.
Daniel Murphy's batting clean-up for the Mets tonight.
This is a bad idea.
I don't wanna be,
Anything other than,
What I've been,
Trying to be lately.
(Also with the new found precedent of these very short posts, this is looking more like a Twitter than a blog, isn't it?)
This is a bad idea.
I don't wanna be,
Anything other than,
What I've been,
Trying to be lately.
(Also with the new found precedent of these very short posts, this is looking more like a Twitter than a blog, isn't it?)
Thursday, July 23, 2009
The proof that she couldn't deny.
I forgot something;
I wish Michael Jackson was alive again so I could use the heaven machine to go back in time to when he was that ugly little rodent in the Jackson 5 and break his neck, using his fucking afro as a grip.
Haha.
And she dreams she's dancing,
Around and around,
Without any cares.
And her very first love,
Is holding her close.
And the soft wind is blowing her hair.
(Real musical geniuses = Rascal Flatts. 'Beat It' sucks Jermaine's dick)
I wish Michael Jackson was alive again so I could use the heaven machine to go back in time to when he was that ugly little rodent in the Jackson 5 and break his neck, using his fucking afro as a grip.
Haha.
And she dreams she's dancing,
Around and around,
Without any cares.
And her very first love,
Is holding her close.
And the soft wind is blowing her hair.
(Real musical geniuses = Rascal Flatts. 'Beat It' sucks Jermaine's dick)
I walk alone, while ya'll tryin' anything to get on.
I snapped on Sam last night because I was sick of her putting a dead child molester before her best friend. That looks weird when you type it.
That's all.
Your whole perception had changed,
And you accept it 'cause you made it.
But when your funds faded,
You treat it like a scoundrel.
So obviously, your homies never gave a damn about you.
That's all.
Your whole perception had changed,
And you accept it 'cause you made it.
But when your funds faded,
You treat it like a scoundrel.
So obviously, your homies never gave a damn about you.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Random Vent/Boredom Blog (Sam, don't read this.)
It's been weeks and the Michael Jackson death shit-storm has yet to subside.
But the plot thickened since now they're thinking it might be a homicide!! Oh, joyous occasion. I want to find out whodunit so I can send them a fruit basket or a StarBucks gift card of a puppy or something. Seriously, whoever did it, I thank you abundantly.
Granted, the media shit-storm is annoying, but whatever, I can deal knowing that MJ is dead. EVENTUALLY (and I say that with hope) this downpour of MJ obsession will die soon enough (seriously, I am very sick of going to lyric sites or MP3 download sites and seeing the top 3 most popular song selection choices being 1. Billie Jean. 2. Beat It. 3. Thriller.)
I also watched the MJ Memorial BS. Why? I'm not sure. Part of me wanted to see what was going to happen. Another part of me was only watching it because I knew that 98% of the world was watching (this proving my point that 98% of the world is homosexual)
The memorial was retarded. It was supposed to end at 3 (I was planning on watching General Hospital after because I was bored and apparently in a gay mood) but it ended at 4.
Kayla had the greeeeeeeeattttesst joke ever;
"You know what? I'd love it if Beyonce ran up on stage and just yelled 'HE TOUUUCHEED MAAH CHIIIAAALLLDD!!'"
I raised her right. That made me laugh for like 18 minutes straight.
I couldn't tell Sam this because she would get pissed at me or try to kill my little sister. Which, I guess is understandable. To be 110% honest, ever since Michael Fuckhead died, our relationship has been a little edgy. Why? Well, she likes MJ, she believes he's innocent and she's sad that he is dead. If you haven't realized by now, I feel differently. Between this and our opinions on war, I don't understand how we're friends sometimes.
Don't get me wrong, I love Sam. She's my best friend in the whole world. It just seems that we have very different opinions on things. But even when we disagree, I still know we'll always be best friends. Though lately things have been weird (I don't fault the MJ death completely. Some other things have caused a little tension though I can't identify them all), I know we'll get through it. It's just been strange lately and I'm not entirely sure why. She's been kinda ignoring me, not answering calls and stuff. She signs on AIM just to sign off. She blows me off for 'specials' then claims it's 'nothing I'd be interested in'. Come on, she's seriously neglected me for Michael Fuckhead specials on more than one occasion and that makes me mad. But whatever, I'm hoping it will pass soon. If it continues for more than another week, I'll talk to her about it or something. Who knows.
Oh, something else interesting happened. I was watching 'America's Got Talent', which was odd because we haven't watched the auditions at all this season. My back was turned to the TV, as always, and I heard David Hasslehoff say something along the lines of 'Why do you think you deserve another chance' or 'How did you change since last audition' or something of the sort. I thought quickly, 'hah, wouldn't it be funny if that was Mia?'. I had thought this earlier in the show when they said they were in NYC. I thought that NYC isn't too far from Boston and it'd be kinda funny if Mia re-auditioned. To add MORE irony, ten minutes prior the the Hoff making his 'how did you change?' remark, Sam and I were discussing AGT and she said she doesn't like the show now that Mia wasn't on.
Either way, David Hasslehoff said whatever he said and then I heard a very familiar voice answer him.
My mom goes "Kristyn! There's the girl you stalk online!". As mean as that was, I was already turned around and staring at the beautiful and talented Mia Boostrom (in High Def, mind you). My heart stopped. I HAD TO TELL SAM. SHE WAS GOING TO BE HAPPY (that was my only thought process. This proves that I am a good friend :P) Of course, she was happy. Mia rocked the audition and made it to Vegas. Not really a surprise since she is a rockstar (or as Chris says; a Goddess).
Mia is a total badass though. I was talking to her on Facebook the night of the AGT episode since it was 12:30 in the morning and everyone else I knew had left me (Laurie went to NYC, Chris went to Vermont and Sam went to Brick...which usually wouldn't be anti-communication but apparently she's in another dimension with no phones or computers). If I could sing half as well as she could, I'd be more helpful than I am to Titan Square (MY BAND FINALLY HAS A NAME!!)
What else happened...hmmm. I tried to get Sam to write more for her 'All At Once' fan fiction but she seems to refuse. I don't know why exactly, but she does. I think if she wrote like two more chapters, it would make my summer. But whatever. Writing geniuses are stubborn I suppose. She seems to think that it sucks or something but in all honesty, it's the best fan fiction I ever read. And I'm a semi-pro fan fic writer! I have read A LOT of fan fics in my time and hers is BY FAR the greatest ever. And she doesn't want to finish it! What a waste of brilliance!!
Lastly, Jimmy is having surgery on Monday. Real, legit, kidney surgery. I'm nervous for him. This brings up feelings of when Nicole had surgery. Granted, Nicole seems to be Queen of Darkness now but at the time, we were friends and when your friend gets surgery, it's scary. Especially since JDog has kidney problems prior. I'm getting him a little gift that he'll hopefully take with him to the hospital Monday where he has to stay for 3 days after. I'm scared to death but Jimmy's a strong young kid and he'll probably be just fine. Either way, I'm gonna be a nervous wreck like I was the night before and the day of Nicole's surgery.
Well, I should go to bed now. I've got important things to attend to. Sort of. Whatever, I'm tired.
Always end with a song quote;
I melt every time you look at me that way,
It never fails; anytime, any place.
This burn in me's the coolest thing I've ever felt.
I melt.
[3 things about this song;
1. It has the greatest line in the world!! ('This burn in me's the coolest thing I've ever felt' has officially become my favorite song lyric of all time. It even beat out the line from 'Lucky Ones'.
2. In the 'I Melt' video, Joe Don is doing some model chick and you totally see his ass. I'm not kidding, apparently Flatts started a controversy over the fact that it was a country MV with nudity. I'm allllll for it. More Flatts nudity, I say!
3. ONLY Rascal Flatts can write a song about being horny and make it a chart-topping ballad. Think I'm kidding? Google the lyrics.]
But the plot thickened since now they're thinking it might be a homicide!! Oh, joyous occasion. I want to find out whodunit so I can send them a fruit basket or a StarBucks gift card of a puppy or something. Seriously, whoever did it, I thank you abundantly.
Granted, the media shit-storm is annoying, but whatever, I can deal knowing that MJ is dead. EVENTUALLY (and I say that with hope) this downpour of MJ obsession will die soon enough (seriously, I am very sick of going to lyric sites or MP3 download sites and seeing the top 3 most popular song selection choices being 1. Billie Jean. 2. Beat It. 3. Thriller.)
I also watched the MJ Memorial BS. Why? I'm not sure. Part of me wanted to see what was going to happen. Another part of me was only watching it because I knew that 98% of the world was watching (this proving my point that 98% of the world is homosexual)
The memorial was retarded. It was supposed to end at 3 (I was planning on watching General Hospital after because I was bored and apparently in a gay mood) but it ended at 4.
Kayla had the greeeeeeeeattttesst joke ever;
"You know what? I'd love it if Beyonce ran up on stage and just yelled 'HE TOUUUCHEED MAAH CHIIIAAALLLDD!!'"
I raised her right. That made me laugh for like 18 minutes straight.
I couldn't tell Sam this because she would get pissed at me or try to kill my little sister. Which, I guess is understandable. To be 110% honest, ever since Michael Fuckhead died, our relationship has been a little edgy. Why? Well, she likes MJ, she believes he's innocent and she's sad that he is dead. If you haven't realized by now, I feel differently. Between this and our opinions on war, I don't understand how we're friends sometimes.
Don't get me wrong, I love Sam. She's my best friend in the whole world. It just seems that we have very different opinions on things. But even when we disagree, I still know we'll always be best friends. Though lately things have been weird (I don't fault the MJ death completely. Some other things have caused a little tension though I can't identify them all), I know we'll get through it. It's just been strange lately and I'm not entirely sure why. She's been kinda ignoring me, not answering calls and stuff. She signs on AIM just to sign off. She blows me off for 'specials' then claims it's 'nothing I'd be interested in'. Come on, she's seriously neglected me for Michael Fuckhead specials on more than one occasion and that makes me mad. But whatever, I'm hoping it will pass soon. If it continues for more than another week, I'll talk to her about it or something. Who knows.
Oh, something else interesting happened. I was watching 'America's Got Talent', which was odd because we haven't watched the auditions at all this season. My back was turned to the TV, as always, and I heard David Hasslehoff say something along the lines of 'Why do you think you deserve another chance' or 'How did you change since last audition' or something of the sort. I thought quickly, 'hah, wouldn't it be funny if that was Mia?'. I had thought this earlier in the show when they said they were in NYC. I thought that NYC isn't too far from Boston and it'd be kinda funny if Mia re-auditioned. To add MORE irony, ten minutes prior the the Hoff making his 'how did you change?' remark, Sam and I were discussing AGT and she said she doesn't like the show now that Mia wasn't on.
Either way, David Hasslehoff said whatever he said and then I heard a very familiar voice answer him.
My mom goes "Kristyn! There's the girl you stalk online!". As mean as that was, I was already turned around and staring at the beautiful and talented Mia Boostrom (in High Def, mind you). My heart stopped. I HAD TO TELL SAM. SHE WAS GOING TO BE HAPPY (that was my only thought process. This proves that I am a good friend :P) Of course, she was happy. Mia rocked the audition and made it to Vegas. Not really a surprise since she is a rockstar (or as Chris says; a Goddess).
Mia is a total badass though. I was talking to her on Facebook the night of the AGT episode since it was 12:30 in the morning and everyone else I knew had left me (Laurie went to NYC, Chris went to Vermont and Sam went to Brick...which usually wouldn't be anti-communication but apparently she's in another dimension with no phones or computers). If I could sing half as well as she could, I'd be more helpful than I am to Titan Square (MY BAND FINALLY HAS A NAME!!)
What else happened...hmmm. I tried to get Sam to write more for her 'All At Once' fan fiction but she seems to refuse. I don't know why exactly, but she does. I think if she wrote like two more chapters, it would make my summer. But whatever. Writing geniuses are stubborn I suppose. She seems to think that it sucks or something but in all honesty, it's the best fan fiction I ever read. And I'm a semi-pro fan fic writer! I have read A LOT of fan fics in my time and hers is BY FAR the greatest ever. And she doesn't want to finish it! What a waste of brilliance!!
Lastly, Jimmy is having surgery on Monday. Real, legit, kidney surgery. I'm nervous for him. This brings up feelings of when Nicole had surgery. Granted, Nicole seems to be Queen of Darkness now but at the time, we were friends and when your friend gets surgery, it's scary. Especially since JDog has kidney problems prior. I'm getting him a little gift that he'll hopefully take with him to the hospital Monday where he has to stay for 3 days after. I'm scared to death but Jimmy's a strong young kid and he'll probably be just fine. Either way, I'm gonna be a nervous wreck like I was the night before and the day of Nicole's surgery.
Well, I should go to bed now. I've got important things to attend to. Sort of. Whatever, I'm tired.
Always end with a song quote;
I melt every time you look at me that way,
It never fails; anytime, any place.
This burn in me's the coolest thing I've ever felt.
I melt.
[3 things about this song;
1. It has the greatest line in the world!! ('This burn in me's the coolest thing I've ever felt' has officially become my favorite song lyric of all time. It even beat out the line from 'Lucky Ones'.
2. In the 'I Melt' video, Joe Don is doing some model chick and you totally see his ass. I'm not kidding, apparently Flatts started a controversy over the fact that it was a country MV with nudity. I'm allllll for it. More Flatts nudity, I say!
3. ONLY Rascal Flatts can write a song about being horny and make it a chart-topping ballad. Think I'm kidding? Google the lyrics.]
Saturday, June 27, 2009
A word about MJ...
So it's been like 48 hours since MJ died, right? I've observed many people's opinions on him and I've come up with a conclusion:
People are retarded.
Stay with me, I'm going somewhere with this.
(This may get angry, I appologize.)
First of all, I don't give a damn if Michael Jackson was a 'music legend' and that will be 'missed' (um?) He will not be missed. I don't fucking care if he was the greatest mucisian to ever be alive. Sorry, I don't like pedophiles. Not my taste. His musical 'ability' (and you know what? I'll admit it. I hate his fucking music. I like two songs from the Jackson 5 and I only like the versions sung by Kaitlyn Maher and the Wright Kids. He was a sucky singer, his songs blew hard and I wish he never produced an album. Fucking sue me!) has nothing to do with his FETISH FOR LITTLE BOYS. Yes, everything I say will come back to that because celebrity or not, if you molest little boys, you molest little boys. Is everyone forgetting about that?
Secondly, if you think he didn't touch those boys, you're straight-up RETARD. I'm talking mentally-challenged-you-need-a-fucking-helmet-and-a-seat-in-the-back-of-the-bus-type retarded. What is your best argument, huh? 'He wasn't convicted!' Yeah? Fuck you, neither was OJ, dumbass. 'Well, he didn't go to prison!' Neither did Chris Brown, douche. He touched those little boys and if you can honestly stand here and feel sorry for a man who molested children, you are really FUCKED UP. And when I say 'FUCKED UP' I mean BIG TIME. I state again, you feel free to argue Michael's innocence all you want. But if you can stand here and say to me that he didn't do it, not only are you the dumbest person to ever live, you also DIDN'T follow up on the trial or the evidence.
I cannot understand people who have an ounce of sympathy for him or his freaky little kids. Blanket, Prince and whatever the hell the third little weirdos name is (probaby 'Coconut' or 'Tupperware') They're BETTER OFF without him. At least no one will try to touch them or hang them out of balconys. Also, if you want to blame his childhood for shit, you're an even bigger moron than I thought you were. Plenty of people have had messed up childhoods. How many of them put an amusement park in their backyards, sleep in the same bed as young boys and claim it's 'a form of love' and then pay of a family of ONE of the boys they touch? Ummm...just the 1. And that's Michael Jackson.
I'm gonna stand by how I feel on this and continue to spit fire at the retards who sit and weep over the death of a 'beloved' scum of the earth. I don't care WHO you are. If you harm a child, you deserve to die. He may've just been " ACCUSED " of it, but we all know it fucking happened. So as I've said before, I'm glad he died, I hope he suffered, he is currently burning painfully in hell and I'm glad he's gone forever and ever.
MJ, you suck. I hate you. You were a disgusting waste of skin and the world is a much, much better place without you on it.
Whoever supports MJ and vows that he's innocent, fuck you.
You suck too.
You're an idiot and if I am in arms reach of you, you're taking a fist to the Adam's-apple.
People are retarded.
Stay with me, I'm going somewhere with this.
(This may get angry, I appologize.)
First of all, I don't give a damn if Michael Jackson was a 'music legend' and that will be 'missed' (um?) He will not be missed. I don't fucking care if he was the greatest mucisian to ever be alive. Sorry, I don't like pedophiles. Not my taste. His musical 'ability' (and you know what? I'll admit it. I hate his fucking music. I like two songs from the Jackson 5 and I only like the versions sung by Kaitlyn Maher and the Wright Kids. He was a sucky singer, his songs blew hard and I wish he never produced an album. Fucking sue me!) has nothing to do with his FETISH FOR LITTLE BOYS. Yes, everything I say will come back to that because celebrity or not, if you molest little boys, you molest little boys. Is everyone forgetting about that?
Secondly, if you think he didn't touch those boys, you're straight-up RETARD. I'm talking mentally-challenged-you-need-a-fucking-helmet-and-a-seat-in-the-back-of-the-bus-type retarded. What is your best argument, huh? 'He wasn't convicted!' Yeah? Fuck you, neither was OJ, dumbass. 'Well, he didn't go to prison!' Neither did Chris Brown, douche. He touched those little boys and if you can honestly stand here and feel sorry for a man who molested children, you are really FUCKED UP. And when I say 'FUCKED UP' I mean BIG TIME. I state again, you feel free to argue Michael's innocence all you want. But if you can stand here and say to me that he didn't do it, not only are you the dumbest person to ever live, you also DIDN'T follow up on the trial or the evidence.
I cannot understand people who have an ounce of sympathy for him or his freaky little kids. Blanket, Prince and whatever the hell the third little weirdos name is (probaby 'Coconut' or 'Tupperware') They're BETTER OFF without him. At least no one will try to touch them or hang them out of balconys. Also, if you want to blame his childhood for shit, you're an even bigger moron than I thought you were. Plenty of people have had messed up childhoods. How many of them put an amusement park in their backyards, sleep in the same bed as young boys and claim it's 'a form of love' and then pay of a family of ONE of the boys they touch? Ummm...just the 1. And that's Michael Jackson.
I'm gonna stand by how I feel on this and continue to spit fire at the retards who sit and weep over the death of a 'beloved' scum of the earth. I don't care WHO you are. If you harm a child, you deserve to die. He may've just been " ACCUSED " of it, but we all know it fucking happened. So as I've said before, I'm glad he died, I hope he suffered, he is currently burning painfully in hell and I'm glad he's gone forever and ever.
MJ, you suck. I hate you. You were a disgusting waste of skin and the world is a much, much better place without you on it.
Whoever supports MJ and vows that he's innocent, fuck you.
You suck too.
You're an idiot and if I am in arms reach of you, you're taking a fist to the Adam's-apple.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
We are the only ones who know just how to bleed.
I told you I felt like a jerkoff.
I made Sam feel bad with my stupid vent-y blog which was the exact opposite of what I was trying to do. I feel bad for making her feel bad (ow, headache) but I don't know what else to do. I mean, I was pissed. I was upset about her not going to school but I vowed not to live in the past recently. Hell, I've even stopped writing SLADE. Do you know what that means to someone who has put SLADE as their life's top goal for two years? I've decided to grow up, mature and move on from everything and that includes being pissed at Sam for not going to schoo. So I don't want to make anyone feel bad. I just want to live. I'm not living in the past. I'm not pissed.
Let's just leave it at that.
I made Sam feel bad with my stupid vent-y blog which was the exact opposite of what I was trying to do. I feel bad for making her feel bad (ow, headache) but I don't know what else to do. I mean, I was pissed. I was upset about her not going to school but I vowed not to live in the past recently. Hell, I've even stopped writing SLADE. Do you know what that means to someone who has put SLADE as their life's top goal for two years? I've decided to grow up, mature and move on from everything and that includes being pissed at Sam for not going to schoo. So I don't want to make anyone feel bad. I just want to live. I'm not living in the past. I'm not pissed.
Let's just leave it at that.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
We've come so far, don't fall.
Okay, so, I think I just snapped like a crazy person on my best friend. LOL.
I blame finals. I crammed a bunch of knowledge in my brain to take one two-hour test every day. Now I get to spend today trying to eject a year's worth of English, Math, Spanish and World Civ out of my noggin (not Science though, I have to take that final on Thursday).
Anyway, I need to use this blog to justify and explain why I just went all cuckoo for Coco Puffs on my friend so I don't feel like a complete jerkoff (I felt like one as I was talking to her but my brain and my mouth aren't connected, evidently.)
See, in like November-ish, my bestest friend decided that she uh, wasn't gonna go to school anymore. Uhhhhhhh. Yeah, I wasn't sure how to respond either. I was pissed. Like big time. But I figured it'd be best friendly of me to not freak out on her because apparently it was 'medical'. Her and I both knew this was total bullshit.
Well, technically, it was medical. The issue the doctors were trying to figure out, essentially the reason for her leave of absense, was what was causing the medical distress. I maintain that if they wanted to know what was causing her headaches and high bloodpressure and stuff, they should've just asked me. I know what it is. Its locker is about eighteen feet from my locker.
SPOILER ALERT:
It's Tori.
T_T
Yes. Sam left school because of Tori.
C'mon, people, are we suprised? I mean, I probably could've predicted this but you know, I figured, Sam wouldn't leave me at school alone. I was wrong. I then figured, well, I bet Sam will only be out a month or so. Why is that whenever I'm wrong, I'm really wrong?
So here's where it gets angry and venty and borders on 'hide-under-the-table' material. Ready?
Sam leaves school. All well and good. I'm sure it sucks. I'm sure it must suck to not be at school (wtf) and not see your friends. Okay, fine. But she doesn't get it. I am not a social person by nature, I don't tend to like people. I like Sam and Chris. I love Sam and Chris; they are my best friends. I've spent two years having the identical schedule as the two of them (mind you, I was only friends with Sam for one of the two years but you get the idea, yes?) and in one year I'm supposed to just adapt to not seeing either of them? How the fuck am I supposed to do that?
This was my freshman year of high sccool. Do you know what kind of bullshit that is to deal with? High school sucks. People suck. Schoolwork sucks. Guys suck. All of these suck-y problems that I was going through, well, I had to go through them alone because Sam (I don't blame Chris because he actually tried to go East) just 'didn't wanna go to school'? What the fuck is that? No one wants to go. We just do. We have to. It's uhhh the law.
Oh, but wait, Inner Kristyn, what if you had to see the person you were in love with every day at school? That'd be terrible! You must try to understand. UM. I DO. I DO UNDERSTAND. IN FACT, MY LOCKER IS THREE OVER FROM THE BOY I WAS IN LOVE WITH FOR TWO AND A HALF YEARS. GEE, NOT-INNER-KRISTYN, I GUESS I DO KNOW WHAT THAT ONE IS LIKE.
Wait wait, Inner Kristyn, there's more. What if you had some sort of chronic pain? A headache, per se. UM, ACTUALLY, I KNOW THAT ONE TOO. HMM, MAYBE CHRONIC STOMACHACHES? OH WAIT, I'VE ONLY HAD THEM FOR SEVEN YEARS; THE LAST HALF OF MY LIFE. YES, I KNOW THAT ONE. I'M ON A ROLL HERE. ANYTHING ELSE, CONSCIOUS? BECAUSE SO FAR, SAM AND I ARE IN ONE DAMN SIMILAR BOAT.
WAIT, HERE'S SOMETHING SAM NEVER HAD TO DO; SHE NEVER HAD TO FACE HER FIRST YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL, PERIOD. SHE DIDN'T HAVE TO FACE IT. WHEREAS, I FACED IT, LONELY AND BEST FRIEND-LESS.
Isn't it bad enough that I lost Nicole as a best friend? I didn't want to spend a whole year losing someone else.
This year sucked. There was a lot to go through. I would loved to have went through it with my real friend instead of telling it to an emotionless, sarcastic horndog who was too busy checking out Kaci's ass and talking about track to notice that for once, I just needed someone to listen. No, I wanted my best friend. But as always, Tori out-ranks me. Tori will always out-rank. It's just the way life will always work. I can't really change it. Sam can try to argue it all she wants. But it's never going to change how true it is. Sam cared more about how much she 'hated' Tori than her 'little best friend darling Kristyn' who faced highschool alone. Well this little darling Kristyn is sick of being quiet about this. It's fucked up. I'm still pissed. It hurt my feelings, it made me angry all the time and I want to make someone pay. Rather Tori than Sam, though, because I hate Tori and one day in the far future, I'll probably stop being pissed or harboring resentment. Whatever, I'm done today. I need to get some fan fiction done because that's the best thing ever, though I never get to read any. But I don't care. Venting over, creative writing beginning.
We lose our friends in the sea, then vanish everyday.
And dreams can fade when you don't come back the same.
When I got here it felt strange, somehow.
People I once knew seem different to me now.
Hey, baby, we're the lucky ones.
Oh, hey, baby we're the lucky ones.
When the last long night is done,
If we find our way back home,
Baby, we're the lucky ones.
Don't know what to feel like these days,
Is it gonna end? Is it ever gonna change?
We'll get back one day; sweats at night, cars on fire,
As long as we're alive.
I blame finals. I crammed a bunch of knowledge in my brain to take one two-hour test every day. Now I get to spend today trying to eject a year's worth of English, Math, Spanish and World Civ out of my noggin (not Science though, I have to take that final on Thursday).
Anyway, I need to use this blog to justify and explain why I just went all cuckoo for Coco Puffs on my friend so I don't feel like a complete jerkoff (I felt like one as I was talking to her but my brain and my mouth aren't connected, evidently.)
See, in like November-ish, my bestest friend decided that she uh, wasn't gonna go to school anymore. Uhhhhhhh. Yeah, I wasn't sure how to respond either. I was pissed. Like big time. But I figured it'd be best friendly of me to not freak out on her because apparently it was 'medical'. Her and I both knew this was total bullshit.
Well, technically, it was medical. The issue the doctors were trying to figure out, essentially the reason for her leave of absense, was what was causing the medical distress. I maintain that if they wanted to know what was causing her headaches and high bloodpressure and stuff, they should've just asked me. I know what it is. Its locker is about eighteen feet from my locker.
SPOILER ALERT:
It's Tori.
T_T
Yes. Sam left school because of Tori.
C'mon, people, are we suprised? I mean, I probably could've predicted this but you know, I figured, Sam wouldn't leave me at school alone. I was wrong. I then figured, well, I bet Sam will only be out a month or so. Why is that whenever I'm wrong, I'm really wrong?
So here's where it gets angry and venty and borders on 'hide-under-the-table' material. Ready?
Sam leaves school. All well and good. I'm sure it sucks. I'm sure it must suck to not be at school (wtf) and not see your friends. Okay, fine. But she doesn't get it. I am not a social person by nature, I don't tend to like people. I like Sam and Chris. I love Sam and Chris; they are my best friends. I've spent two years having the identical schedule as the two of them (mind you, I was only friends with Sam for one of the two years but you get the idea, yes?) and in one year I'm supposed to just adapt to not seeing either of them? How the fuck am I supposed to do that?
This was my freshman year of high sccool. Do you know what kind of bullshit that is to deal with? High school sucks. People suck. Schoolwork sucks. Guys suck. All of these suck-y problems that I was going through, well, I had to go through them alone because Sam (I don't blame Chris because he actually tried to go East) just 'didn't wanna go to school'? What the fuck is that? No one wants to go. We just do. We have to. It's uhhh the law.
Oh, but wait, Inner Kristyn, what if you had to see the person you were in love with every day at school? That'd be terrible! You must try to understand. UM. I DO. I DO UNDERSTAND. IN FACT, MY LOCKER IS THREE OVER FROM THE BOY I WAS IN LOVE WITH FOR TWO AND A HALF YEARS. GEE, NOT-INNER-KRISTYN, I GUESS I DO KNOW WHAT THAT ONE IS LIKE.
Wait wait, Inner Kristyn, there's more. What if you had some sort of chronic pain? A headache, per se. UM, ACTUALLY, I KNOW THAT ONE TOO. HMM, MAYBE CHRONIC STOMACHACHES? OH WAIT, I'VE ONLY HAD THEM FOR SEVEN YEARS; THE LAST HALF OF MY LIFE. YES, I KNOW THAT ONE. I'M ON A ROLL HERE. ANYTHING ELSE, CONSCIOUS? BECAUSE SO FAR, SAM AND I ARE IN ONE DAMN SIMILAR BOAT.
WAIT, HERE'S SOMETHING SAM NEVER HAD TO DO; SHE NEVER HAD TO FACE HER FIRST YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL, PERIOD. SHE DIDN'T HAVE TO FACE IT. WHEREAS, I FACED IT, LONELY AND BEST FRIEND-LESS.
Isn't it bad enough that I lost Nicole as a best friend? I didn't want to spend a whole year losing someone else.
This year sucked. There was a lot to go through. I would loved to have went through it with my real friend instead of telling it to an emotionless, sarcastic horndog who was too busy checking out Kaci's ass and talking about track to notice that for once, I just needed someone to listen. No, I wanted my best friend. But as always, Tori out-ranks me. Tori will always out-rank. It's just the way life will always work. I can't really change it. Sam can try to argue it all she wants. But it's never going to change how true it is. Sam cared more about how much she 'hated' Tori than her 'little best friend darling Kristyn' who faced highschool alone. Well this little darling Kristyn is sick of being quiet about this. It's fucked up. I'm still pissed. It hurt my feelings, it made me angry all the time and I want to make someone pay. Rather Tori than Sam, though, because I hate Tori and one day in the far future, I'll probably stop being pissed or harboring resentment. Whatever, I'm done today. I need to get some fan fiction done because that's the best thing ever, though I never get to read any. But I don't care. Venting over, creative writing beginning.
We lose our friends in the sea, then vanish everyday.
And dreams can fade when you don't come back the same.
When I got here it felt strange, somehow.
People I once knew seem different to me now.
Hey, baby, we're the lucky ones.
Oh, hey, baby we're the lucky ones.
When the last long night is done,
If we find our way back home,
Baby, we're the lucky ones.
Don't know what to feel like these days,
Is it gonna end? Is it ever gonna change?
We'll get back one day; sweats at night, cars on fire,
As long as we're alive.
Friday, June 12, 2009
What You've Been Waiting For...
Don’t ask me why I agreed to go with Sam, Jessica and Taryn. I don’t know why I did. Sam convinced me. True, I was originally the one begging to go (I just had to see Sam spaz out over this girl at least once, not to mention that I just wanted to meet her; she had become a legend!) Either way, when Sam called me up freaking out that Jessica was dragging her along to some random bar and bringing Taryn, I could tell in her tone of voice that this meant bad news for me. I was right, of course. After she begged me to go (though she still claims that she ‘told me’ I was going … just like she ‘told me’ I was going to see Dark Knight and I still haven’t seen it), I pretty much said ‘you know what? Screw it, I’m in’, and went along for the ride.
The car ride there still is one of my favorite memories. I wasn’t entirely sure where we were headed (convincing my mother to let me go to a bar with two chicks in their twenties sure was fun, by the way). Jessica was driving; Taryn was in the passenger seat. I sat behind Taryn (somehow I thought Sam had arranged that so she could look at Taryn from a side-view as we drove but she denies it).
Sitting in the car with these three was, to put it simply, was amusing. Why would something like this that seemed so genuinely common be so amusing? My guess was the fact that Sam had made, um, ‘comments’ about Taryn in the past (I use the term ‘comment’s lightly). Holding in all the smart remarks, all the little jokes that I wanted to make, was giving me an ulcer. My stomach muscles were getting sore from not saying anything. Sam had told me once that Taryn made her stomach hurt, too. I’m guessing it was for different reasons than for my sudden discomfort. I think her stomachache was more like the ones I get when watching certain Rascal Flatts videos. Either way, not making jokes was killing me. I think little quiet-non-joke-viruses were eating my gallbladder.
Every once and a while, I’d glance over at Sam. Since she knew me so well, I knew she could see it on my face that I just needed to say something. However, I wasn’t allowed. If I ever shot her a Ha-Ha-I-Know-A-Good-Joke-look, she’d reply with a Just-Wait-Until-We-Get-To-The-Bar-And-I-Kill-You-With-A-Toothpick-look. I decided to keep quiet just because it would be easier and we could all win. Plus, Sam’s sister scared me. Our first ever communication experience was her yelling at me. She called me. Sam, even though she was sitting next to me, felt that she couldn’t exactly verbalize her thoughts, so she texted me.
“She makes my stomach hurt!” The text read. My mind tried to scroll through my bank of jokes (mainly because it was easy; anything involved with a stomachache could be retaliated with anything involving the word ‘eating’. But thanks to my decreasing speed with jokes and the fact that I was a pansy and wouldn’t have even said it if I thought of one, I couldn’t get the shot off.) About the time that Akon’s ‘I Wanna Love You’ came on and Taryn started singing, it started getting harder not to laugh. I buried my face in my arms and tried to think of all the reasons why this wasn’t funny. Couldn’t even name one. Eventually, I had to taunt my friend.
“Hey, Taryn,” I called to the front seat. “Turn this song up!” I flashed Sam an ear-to-ear grin and she shot me the look about the death by toothpicks. Actually, this time the look was so evil and angry that my soul felt cold for a moment.
“Okay!” Taryn yelled and blasted the volume. “And you can call me ‘Bubbles’!” My smile suddenly got wider.
“Bubbles, you say, eh?” I answered. I was now staring at Sam’s reaction. “Are you sure you don’t like ‘Taryn’?”
“Bubbles is better.” She answered seriously.
“Really? I think that-"
“I’m begging you,” Sam said to me. Her tone of voice told me that I was in trouble. “Just call her ‘Bubbles’ and end this conversation.” I almost laughed but kept it in and just enjoyed the song and Sam’s reactions again.
Flo Rida’s ‘Right Round’ came on next. I prayed to God, Buddha, Natalie or whoever was looking down on me that we would arrive at the bar soon. If not, I was pretty sure I was going to throw up jokes. And that didn’t seem medically possible.
The car ride there still is one of my favorite memories. I wasn’t entirely sure where we were headed (convincing my mother to let me go to a bar with two chicks in their twenties sure was fun, by the way). Jessica was driving; Taryn was in the passenger seat. I sat behind Taryn (somehow I thought Sam had arranged that so she could look at Taryn from a side-view as we drove but she denies it).
Sitting in the car with these three was, to put it simply, was amusing. Why would something like this that seemed so genuinely common be so amusing? My guess was the fact that Sam had made, um, ‘comments’ about Taryn in the past (I use the term ‘comment’s lightly). Holding in all the smart remarks, all the little jokes that I wanted to make, was giving me an ulcer. My stomach muscles were getting sore from not saying anything. Sam had told me once that Taryn made her stomach hurt, too. I’m guessing it was for different reasons than for my sudden discomfort. I think her stomachache was more like the ones I get when watching certain Rascal Flatts videos. Either way, not making jokes was killing me. I think little quiet-non-joke-viruses were eating my gallbladder.
Every once and a while, I’d glance over at Sam. Since she knew me so well, I knew she could see it on my face that I just needed to say something. However, I wasn’t allowed. If I ever shot her a Ha-Ha-I-Know-A-Good-Joke-look, she’d reply with a Just-Wait-Until-We-Get-To-The-Bar-And-I-Kill-You-With-A-Toothpick-look. I decided to keep quiet just because it would be easier and we could all win. Plus, Sam’s sister scared me. Our first ever communication experience was her yelling at me. She called me. Sam, even though she was sitting next to me, felt that she couldn’t exactly verbalize her thoughts, so she texted me.
“She makes my stomach hurt!” The text read. My mind tried to scroll through my bank of jokes (mainly because it was easy; anything involved with a stomachache could be retaliated with anything involving the word ‘eating’. But thanks to my decreasing speed with jokes and the fact that I was a pansy and wouldn’t have even said it if I thought of one, I couldn’t get the shot off.) About the time that Akon’s ‘I Wanna Love You’ came on and Taryn started singing, it started getting harder not to laugh. I buried my face in my arms and tried to think of all the reasons why this wasn’t funny. Couldn’t even name one. Eventually, I had to taunt my friend.
“Hey, Taryn,” I called to the front seat. “Turn this song up!” I flashed Sam an ear-to-ear grin and she shot me the look about the death by toothpicks. Actually, this time the look was so evil and angry that my soul felt cold for a moment.
“Okay!” Taryn yelled and blasted the volume. “And you can call me ‘Bubbles’!” My smile suddenly got wider.
“Bubbles, you say, eh?” I answered. I was now staring at Sam’s reaction. “Are you sure you don’t like ‘Taryn’?”
“Bubbles is better.” She answered seriously.
“Really? I think that-"
“I’m begging you,” Sam said to me. Her tone of voice told me that I was in trouble. “Just call her ‘Bubbles’ and end this conversation.” I almost laughed but kept it in and just enjoyed the song and Sam’s reactions again.
Flo Rida’s ‘Right Round’ came on next. I prayed to God, Buddha, Natalie or whoever was looking down on me that we would arrive at the bar soon. If not, I was pretty sure I was going to throw up jokes. And that didn’t seem medically possible.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
June 8th (technically June 9th)
June 8th, 2008. Sunday.
Hot.
Did I say 'hot'? I mean HOT. 98, 99 degrees.
Wait, there was humidity. Make that 201, 202 degrees.
I had found a book. Armageddon Summer. We went to the mall that day. For some reason, despite my hatred of reading, I got extremely wrapped up in this book and sat on the floor in every store we went to and just read. When I went home, I crashed in my room and finished the book. The heat was unbearable by 10:30 that night. My mom offered to let me sleep in her room, with the AC blasting, on the air matress since my sister was going to already. Eventually I agreed and slept on the floor for fear of melting otherwise. The next day, I woke up at 6:25, freezing. Apparently sleeping in the AC with Dance Shorts on makes you cold. Also, when just awaking from a dead sleep, your legs are kinda wobbly. Getting downstairs proved to be difficult and thanks to my shorts, I was able to see my pale legs stumble over each other.
June 8th, 2009. Monday.
Humid.
I went to school with a mad sore throat, reviewed for my finals then my best friend told me she thinks the Dixie Chicks are hot. She said Natalie's the hottest.
FML.
Hot.
Did I say 'hot'? I mean HOT. 98, 99 degrees.
Wait, there was humidity. Make that 201, 202 degrees.
I had found a book. Armageddon Summer. We went to the mall that day. For some reason, despite my hatred of reading, I got extremely wrapped up in this book and sat on the floor in every store we went to and just read. When I went home, I crashed in my room and finished the book. The heat was unbearable by 10:30 that night. My mom offered to let me sleep in her room, with the AC blasting, on the air matress since my sister was going to already. Eventually I agreed and slept on the floor for fear of melting otherwise. The next day, I woke up at 6:25, freezing. Apparently sleeping in the AC with Dance Shorts on makes you cold. Also, when just awaking from a dead sleep, your legs are kinda wobbly. Getting downstairs proved to be difficult and thanks to my shorts, I was able to see my pale legs stumble over each other.
June 8th, 2009. Monday.
Humid.
I went to school with a mad sore throat, reviewed for my finals then my best friend told me she thinks the Dixie Chicks are hot. She said Natalie's the hottest.
FML.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Me & My Gang
Ah, hanging with my crew. I haven't done much of that this year. We did it once and that was to see 'Obsessed'. That was...fun. Seriously though, anytime I'm with those two, it's a great time. Today started out as an attempt to get tan. I wore the smallest Hollister bikini that is in existence, I put on barely any sunblock (it was SPF 8, come on!) and layed out for an hour and a half. I have one patch of red on my chest. I think the sun erased me. Sam, however, (I can't say 'on the other hand' because she ruined the phrase for me) got burned. Whatever, I give up. The sun hates me and my baby skin. I don't care. I'll just live in pale, freckled agony forever.
Probably one of my favorite parts of the day was when Chris was playing 'N+' on his 360 (the other games were being retarded and not playing. Is there a reason that every piece of technology I touch turns into a suicidal mess?) Apparently Chris gets angry at 'N+' a lot and just yells things from 'Red vs Blue'. It was pretty damn funny, probably because normally he is pretty mild-mannered and not much of a yeller.
I also learned today that while Sam is quite the talker on AIM, over texting and on the phone, in person she's a straight up pansy who won't say a damn thing. I found it hilarious. I stared her down. Twice. To quote the legendary Callie Torres, 'I'm a good starer'.
On the way home, (my mom drove me and Sam home since Sam's dad took us over to Silverton) we ran into the also legendary Austin. At first, I didn't believe it was him. I had to look close.
"Oh, dude, no way." I said, leaning very close to the windshield, trying desperatley to focus my vision on the spiky haired boy with the basketball. "Oh, you've gotta be kidding. You will not believe this." Of course it was him. June wouldn't be June if it wasn't him! I laughed. A lot. I still find it funny.
On a slightly less amusing note, today I had quite seriously been considering getting through Chapter 5 of my 'Is Forever Enough?' fan fiction. This was my plan. Sam had written a paragraph that I needed and even Chris had added a line in. I was ready to write. And then Sam IMed me. Oh, yay.
And what did my best friend Samantha have to tell me, you ask?
Well, she just kindly pointed out that a certain song reminds her of me.
And Adrian Pasdar.
Oh, and it's this song.
Yes, I know. OMG.
After reading those lyrics, I was done. There was no way I would be able to write fan fiction tonight. That is now completely out of the question. What was I supposed to do? My mind when from creative-writing-mode to completey-enthralled-with-the-lyrics-and-Adrian-Pasdar-mode. I actually tried to write after that but my mind is so wrapped up in OTHER THINGS that I think I typed 'OMG' like four times. CAN YOU BLAME ME? Did you see the lyrics? Come on, I am only human!
So now I've got nothing to do. I've been listening to the same Rascal Flatts songs over and over and over again. I can't listen to 'Skin' anymore because despite the fact that it's a heart-breakingly sad and emotional and serious song, all I see is Jay DeMarcus sitting at that piano and my mind just goes to a totally different place and just... OMG.
There is definitely something wrong with me, isn't there?
I can't think of a good way to end this so I'm just gonna put some lyrics from the song that just came on;
'When she told you goodbye, you didn't flinch.
When she looked back, you didn't even budge an inch.
You stood there like a stone,
But now that she's gone,
How strong are you now, without her around?
You can't even keep one little, bity tear from falling down.
Tell me, how strong are you now?'
Probably one of my favorite parts of the day was when Chris was playing 'N+' on his 360 (the other games were being retarded and not playing. Is there a reason that every piece of technology I touch turns into a suicidal mess?) Apparently Chris gets angry at 'N+' a lot and just yells things from 'Red vs Blue'. It was pretty damn funny, probably because normally he is pretty mild-mannered and not much of a yeller.
I also learned today that while Sam is quite the talker on AIM, over texting and on the phone, in person she's a straight up pansy who won't say a damn thing. I found it hilarious. I stared her down. Twice. To quote the legendary Callie Torres, 'I'm a good starer'.
On the way home, (my mom drove me and Sam home since Sam's dad took us over to Silverton) we ran into the also legendary Austin. At first, I didn't believe it was him. I had to look close.
"Oh, dude, no way." I said, leaning very close to the windshield, trying desperatley to focus my vision on the spiky haired boy with the basketball. "Oh, you've gotta be kidding. You will not believe this." Of course it was him. June wouldn't be June if it wasn't him! I laughed. A lot. I still find it funny.
On a slightly less amusing note, today I had quite seriously been considering getting through Chapter 5 of my 'Is Forever Enough?' fan fiction. This was my plan. Sam had written a paragraph that I needed and even Chris had added a line in. I was ready to write. And then Sam IMed me. Oh, yay.
And what did my best friend Samantha have to tell me, you ask?
Well, she just kindly pointed out that a certain song reminds her of me.
And Adrian Pasdar.
Oh, and it's this song.
Yes, I know. OMG.
After reading those lyrics, I was done. There was no way I would be able to write fan fiction tonight. That is now completely out of the question. What was I supposed to do? My mind when from creative-writing-mode to completey-enthralled-with-the-lyrics-and-Adrian-Pasdar-mode. I actually tried to write after that but my mind is so wrapped up in OTHER THINGS that I think I typed 'OMG' like four times. CAN YOU BLAME ME? Did you see the lyrics? Come on, I am only human!
So now I've got nothing to do. I've been listening to the same Rascal Flatts songs over and over and over again. I can't listen to 'Skin' anymore because despite the fact that it's a heart-breakingly sad and emotional and serious song, all I see is Jay DeMarcus sitting at that piano and my mind just goes to a totally different place and just... OMG.
There is definitely something wrong with me, isn't there?
I can't think of a good way to end this so I'm just gonna put some lyrics from the song that just came on;
'When she told you goodbye, you didn't flinch.
When she looked back, you didn't even budge an inch.
You stood there like a stone,
But now that she's gone,
How strong are you now, without her around?
You can't even keep one little, bity tear from falling down.
Tell me, how strong are you now?'
Monday, June 1, 2009
June 1st, 2009.
Well today's been a fun one. I stayed home today because evidently karma comes in the form of mind-numbing cramps and a killer quatricep (talk about cruel-and-unusual punishment, Gods of the Universe. And I know that my gym teacher said that 'light-exercise' is a natural cure for cramps but at one point it was so bad that I wouldn't have gotten up if Adrian Pasdar was naked on my couch. So take that, gym teacher.) But I figure it was good that I stayed home because I was probably the most exhausted I've ever been in my entire life from pulling an all-nighter. Sure, I blame most of my sleeplessness on the pain but probably it was because I had gotten off the phone 1AM after a rather emotional conversation.
I assumed the roll. I've always been that kid who everyone goes to. I carry everyone's problems, I try to help them solve them. I want to save the world rather than save myself and deal with my own stuff. Sure, it's difficult. Sometimes it gets overwhelming, trying to help everyone. I don't fault my friends for this. Especially my two best friends. I want to hear their problems, I do. I want to help them. But keeping all my stuff inside, well, eventually it starts to eat away at my soul.
But getting back to last night.
I don't know what happened, exactly. Somehow the conversation topic came up of how Sam believes that she's 'whining' (bull) and doesn't want to 'make me listen to her problems anymore' (bull x2). Then she voiced her wonder on why I never discuss my problems. Unsure of how to answer this, I tried keeping it simple and saying that I don't want to process my stuff out loud nor do I want anyone to bear the burden of my issues. This answer did not satisfy dear Samantha, though, who repeatedly reassured me that not only was it not a burden but I should just tell her things more often. Simply, my friend wanted me to open up, a reasonable request seeing as we spent most of our phone-time dealing with her emotions and problems. This, however, remains one of my weak spots.
She managed to talk me into letting my guard down. I don't know how she did it but she did. I eased up for a moment and allowed myself to confess the extreme guilt that I have lived with since 6/11/08. I regretted this pretty much instantly. Okay, so I didn't want my friend to know that I blamed myself. Who would? Sam's the kind of friend who doesn't let you feel bad about things and becomes empathetic easily.
So when did I lose all my dignity and become a whiny little infant? About halfway into explaining myself and my guilt, I realized that it had become a lot more emotional than I thought. I don't know what happened. My guess would be that I had never really thought about or talked about my feelings on the subject that in-depth before. I had never even said it out loud, especially not to Sam. I was looking at my dresser when I felt my eyes tearing and I decided that stopping talking (literally, mid-sentence) and buried my face in my pillow.
Sam knows me better than almost anyone does. We've become so close (and purely phone-dependant) that we can actually hear emotional distress in our tone of voice. There was no way Sam couldn't tell that I had started to cry. Sure, I'm freaking ashamed that I lost control but I didn't mind as much because Sam's my best friend. I've become awfully good at hiding my emotions when I talk but only a moron couldn't tell how bad I was feeling. This is why I don't discuss my emotions; once the flood gates are open, it's hard to go back.
So, for now, it's whatever. I feel bad, still. I'm going to go lay down now because I still feel like dying. Only 29 days of June left.
I assumed the roll. I've always been that kid who everyone goes to. I carry everyone's problems, I try to help them solve them. I want to save the world rather than save myself and deal with my own stuff. Sure, it's difficult. Sometimes it gets overwhelming, trying to help everyone. I don't fault my friends for this. Especially my two best friends. I want to hear their problems, I do. I want to help them. But keeping all my stuff inside, well, eventually it starts to eat away at my soul.
But getting back to last night.
I don't know what happened, exactly. Somehow the conversation topic came up of how Sam believes that she's 'whining' (bull) and doesn't want to 'make me listen to her problems anymore' (bull x2). Then she voiced her wonder on why I never discuss my problems. Unsure of how to answer this, I tried keeping it simple and saying that I don't want to process my stuff out loud nor do I want anyone to bear the burden of my issues. This answer did not satisfy dear Samantha, though, who repeatedly reassured me that not only was it not a burden but I should just tell her things more often. Simply, my friend wanted me to open up, a reasonable request seeing as we spent most of our phone-time dealing with her emotions and problems. This, however, remains one of my weak spots.
She managed to talk me into letting my guard down. I don't know how she did it but she did. I eased up for a moment and allowed myself to confess the extreme guilt that I have lived with since 6/11/08. I regretted this pretty much instantly. Okay, so I didn't want my friend to know that I blamed myself. Who would? Sam's the kind of friend who doesn't let you feel bad about things and becomes empathetic easily.
So when did I lose all my dignity and become a whiny little infant? About halfway into explaining myself and my guilt, I realized that it had become a lot more emotional than I thought. I don't know what happened. My guess would be that I had never really thought about or talked about my feelings on the subject that in-depth before. I had never even said it out loud, especially not to Sam. I was looking at my dresser when I felt my eyes tearing and I decided that stopping talking (literally, mid-sentence) and buried my face in my pillow.
Sam knows me better than almost anyone does. We've become so close (and purely phone-dependant) that we can actually hear emotional distress in our tone of voice. There was no way Sam couldn't tell that I had started to cry. Sure, I'm freaking ashamed that I lost control but I didn't mind as much because Sam's my best friend. I've become awfully good at hiding my emotions when I talk but only a moron couldn't tell how bad I was feeling. This is why I don't discuss my emotions; once the flood gates are open, it's hard to go back.
So, for now, it's whatever. I feel bad, still. I'm going to go lay down now because I still feel like dying. Only 29 days of June left.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Deja Vu Was Over ... Or So I Thought.
There is nothing 'skill' about this blog. There is not a single person that reads this. It is a collection of things I want to say. And in roughly two hours, June will begin. I have waited all year for June; I love June. School's almost over, the only real work we have to do is our finals, the weather's getting nice, the Stanley Cup's winding down. Normally it's a great time. Then last year set a rather unfortunate precedent where June sucks.
True, this blog is out of loneliness and boredom. Both of my best friends just signed offline (10:08:49 then 10:10:21 ... so lonely!) But in all honesty, I just need to express some stuff that I normally wouldn't. I'm worried about June. I'm worried about my best friend's emotional state. Will she be okay? Will she be able to handle the upcoming anniversaries of the events of 2008? Normally, I'd say yes. She's strong. She handles things differently than most but overall, handles things better than most. But lately, I don't know. She's been different. I called her like a half hour ago and I could hear it in her voice that something was up. I should've put the pieces together that June was almost here but I'm selfish and was caught up in school work and my own problems. I suck. I really do. I should know better. She knew about April, my suckish month, for me. But I didn't string together today's date with her behavior. I hate me.
I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't know how to help her. I don't know anything, actually. Seriously, all I can think about is how much I have to cram for my English and Math final essays and how I seem to be like a robot with pieces breaking in the fact that I think my foot re-sprained and my left quadricep seems to be hurt again. Did I mention that I hate me?
What the hell am I gonna do? She seems to think she's whining. She isn't. I just want to help. I don't want her to be sad. Shit, I don't even know what I'm gonna do on the eleventh of this month. I don't think she'll even want to talk to me. I blame myself. Did you know that June eleventh of last year was my fault? Yes, it actually was. I thought I was helping. That was my intention. My intentions were of good nature, I promise. But I screwed up. I screwed up my best friends life. Aren't I just awesome? I am to blame for my best friend in the entire world's emotional trauma and all of her pain for the last year. God, I fucking hate me.
How did all of this happen, you ask? Well, for starters, I suck. That's the main reason. I tried to make everyone happy. I tried to fix the problems Sam was having. I ended up causing 10x more. How? Well, that's just the way I roll. I make things worse. I make everything worse.
Although this year and last year seemed to go extremely slow as we lived them, in hindsight, it seems like everything went ridiculously fast. Time is an illusion. Time doesn't heal everything. That's a lie. Time amplifies pain and regret and guilt. Good God, it amplifies that damn guilt.
So it's really close to June of 2009 and how do I feel? Guilty. Regretful. Saddened. Selfish. Angry. Hurt. Also I couldn't be sitting in a more awkward, uncomfortable position, icing my right foot and left thigh with the same ice pack. Ouch.
Time to start couting down moments.
Moments to June.
Wish me luck.
I'm gonna just be here for my friend, I decided.
I'm not going to try to help at all because that never ends in a positive way.
I'm just gonna be here if she needs me.
True, this blog is out of loneliness and boredom. Both of my best friends just signed offline (10:08:49 then 10:10:21 ... so lonely!) But in all honesty, I just need to express some stuff that I normally wouldn't. I'm worried about June. I'm worried about my best friend's emotional state. Will she be okay? Will she be able to handle the upcoming anniversaries of the events of 2008? Normally, I'd say yes. She's strong. She handles things differently than most but overall, handles things better than most. But lately, I don't know. She's been different. I called her like a half hour ago and I could hear it in her voice that something was up. I should've put the pieces together that June was almost here but I'm selfish and was caught up in school work and my own problems. I suck. I really do. I should know better. She knew about April, my suckish month, for me. But I didn't string together today's date with her behavior. I hate me.
I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't know how to help her. I don't know anything, actually. Seriously, all I can think about is how much I have to cram for my English and Math final essays and how I seem to be like a robot with pieces breaking in the fact that I think my foot re-sprained and my left quadricep seems to be hurt again. Did I mention that I hate me?
What the hell am I gonna do? She seems to think she's whining. She isn't. I just want to help. I don't want her to be sad. Shit, I don't even know what I'm gonna do on the eleventh of this month. I don't think she'll even want to talk to me. I blame myself. Did you know that June eleventh of last year was my fault? Yes, it actually was. I thought I was helping. That was my intention. My intentions were of good nature, I promise. But I screwed up. I screwed up my best friends life. Aren't I just awesome? I am to blame for my best friend in the entire world's emotional trauma and all of her pain for the last year. God, I fucking hate me.
How did all of this happen, you ask? Well, for starters, I suck. That's the main reason. I tried to make everyone happy. I tried to fix the problems Sam was having. I ended up causing 10x more. How? Well, that's just the way I roll. I make things worse. I make everything worse.
Although this year and last year seemed to go extremely slow as we lived them, in hindsight, it seems like everything went ridiculously fast. Time is an illusion. Time doesn't heal everything. That's a lie. Time amplifies pain and regret and guilt. Good God, it amplifies that damn guilt.
So it's really close to June of 2009 and how do I feel? Guilty. Regretful. Saddened. Selfish. Angry. Hurt. Also I couldn't be sitting in a more awkward, uncomfortable position, icing my right foot and left thigh with the same ice pack. Ouch.
Time to start couting down moments.
Moments to June.
Wish me luck.
I'm gonna just be here for my friend, I decided.
I'm not going to try to help at all because that never ends in a positive way.
I'm just gonna be here if she needs me.
Monday, May 25, 2009
'Just A Face In The Hall; You Used To Mean It ALL To Me."
People always talk about love. They always whine over how hard it is to be in love with someone who isn't in love with you. What I never hear is the complaints about friendship and the lack of reciprocating feelings on the subject matter of 'best friends'. Sure, the term ‘best friends’ is supposed to mean two people who have a bond stronger than friendship, pretty much a family-type relationship. It’s interesting when you’ve had a ‘best friend’ like my old one.
I’m not going to use names. I’ve learned the hard way why you never use names on the internet. The name of this person is far from important when it’s just their actions that I am trying to get across.
“After all that we’ve been through, it’s better that you’re gone.”
I met this person when I was eleven. At the time, they seemed like the perfect person. I idolized them. We soon developed a friendship like I’d never had. We were on the phone constantly. We rarely left each other’s side. I trusted them with more things that I had trusted anyone before and vise versa. In three years, everything changed.
Evidentially, I was wrong about the ‘perfect person’ thing. They were far from perfect. Deep down, I’m sure they’re a good person. I know that much for fact. They’ve lead a hard life. A very hard life. They’ve been through more than any child should. I do not use their hard life as an excuse for their actions, however.
I was twelve years old when I started to realize that things were getting weird. My friend had gotten a new boyfriend. He became what she cared about most in life. Unfortunately for me, this boyfriend was not a fan of mine. This made things difficult. Often it put my friend in a situation where she had to choose who to side with, the boyfriend or me. I don’t recall a single time where it was me that she had chosen. I soon noticed that frequently they called me for advice or seeking comfort and I dropped everything I was doing to rush to her aid, making sure to console her no matter what. I then found that she never did the same for me. On many occasions, I found myself with no one to talk to because of this. Soon she started making new friends, a few particular individuals who, much like the boyfriend didn’t take kindly to me and made it well-known. Still, she took their sides, but did it in a clever matter where she made me think she was choosing my side.
“You used to mean so much, but everything has changed. You had your chance, now watch it fade away.”
By the time I turned thirteen, I was damn near fed up. It had become abundantly clear to me that she had little interest in being my friend. But she confused me. She kept calling me her “sister”. She kept claiming that I was her best friend and that no one could replace me. This made me feel better for a while but every time I made an attempt to contact her or make plans with her, somehow they fell through and she ended up with another friend. Eventually, I became sick of this. Many a times have I confronted her. Many a times have I tried to make myself very clear yet nothing has changed.
I am fourteen years old now. It has been three years since I met this person. I have been beaten down, stomped on, flattened out and left in the dark. I have been emotionally stunted. I have been confused for too long. I’ve tried to figure it all out, make sense of what has happened but with no significant results. What the hell happened to us?
I’ll be 100% truthful here; I never wanted to lose her as a friend. I still wish that we were friends. I’m jealous of those who have taken my place. When I think about all the good times that we’ve had, it temporarily makes me forget about the awful stuff. I miss my friend all the time.
Today I told someone that I wish I had never met her when I was eleven. I honestly and completely wish I hadn’t. I wish I never met her. I wish I never knew her. I wish she moved to Nebraska when she was ten so I wouldn’t have had to bear the emotional suffering and misfortune of knowing her. Sound harsh? Maybe so.
No one in my life has ever hurt me like she’s hurt me. No one has confused me like she has. No one has ever treated me so terribly yet kept me close to them by use of false apologies and artificial kindness. I’ve never met someone who is that much of a delirious conniving sociopath that would go through best friends like water but keep one individual around them for as long as possible. And for what purpose?
Last night I had a dream. She was in this dream. She was going through an emotional trauma. It was set in current times so I was aware that we were no longer close. Still, being the loyal, pathetic person I am, I dove to her side, consoling her for what seemed like a long time. As soon as she was comforted, she left with the very friends who had hurt her because they wanted her too.The sad thing is, this is exactly what would happen in real life.
I’m sick of it. I’m sick of feeling responsible. I’m sick of feeling guilty. I’m sick of feeling empathetic towards her but sorry for myself. I’m sick of the bullshit. I’m sick of the games. I’m sick of the fake apologies. I’m sick of the awkward small talk. I’m sick of the uncomfortable silences. I’m sick of her.
This is for every time you hurt my feelings and made me cry when I was still young and stupid enough to be hurt.This is for every time you defended someone over me.
This is for every time I regretted knowing you.
This is for every time a boyfriend you’ve had insulted me.
This is for every time you kissed the boy I’d liked since grade school.
This is for every time your cousins have harassed me.
This is for every text you didn’t respond to.
This is for every time I rushed to your side to comfort you.
This is for every tear shed last April.
This is for every best friend you’ve had since me.
This is for every time you’ve hurt me.
Fuck you, ‘sis’.
"The girl I knew, well, I don't even know her."
I’m not going to use names. I’ve learned the hard way why you never use names on the internet. The name of this person is far from important when it’s just their actions that I am trying to get across.
“After all that we’ve been through, it’s better that you’re gone.”
I met this person when I was eleven. At the time, they seemed like the perfect person. I idolized them. We soon developed a friendship like I’d never had. We were on the phone constantly. We rarely left each other’s side. I trusted them with more things that I had trusted anyone before and vise versa. In three years, everything changed.
Evidentially, I was wrong about the ‘perfect person’ thing. They were far from perfect. Deep down, I’m sure they’re a good person. I know that much for fact. They’ve lead a hard life. A very hard life. They’ve been through more than any child should. I do not use their hard life as an excuse for their actions, however.
I was twelve years old when I started to realize that things were getting weird. My friend had gotten a new boyfriend. He became what she cared about most in life. Unfortunately for me, this boyfriend was not a fan of mine. This made things difficult. Often it put my friend in a situation where she had to choose who to side with, the boyfriend or me. I don’t recall a single time where it was me that she had chosen. I soon noticed that frequently they called me for advice or seeking comfort and I dropped everything I was doing to rush to her aid, making sure to console her no matter what. I then found that she never did the same for me. On many occasions, I found myself with no one to talk to because of this. Soon she started making new friends, a few particular individuals who, much like the boyfriend didn’t take kindly to me and made it well-known. Still, she took their sides, but did it in a clever matter where she made me think she was choosing my side.
“You used to mean so much, but everything has changed. You had your chance, now watch it fade away.”
By the time I turned thirteen, I was damn near fed up. It had become abundantly clear to me that she had little interest in being my friend. But she confused me. She kept calling me her “sister”. She kept claiming that I was her best friend and that no one could replace me. This made me feel better for a while but every time I made an attempt to contact her or make plans with her, somehow they fell through and she ended up with another friend. Eventually, I became sick of this. Many a times have I confronted her. Many a times have I tried to make myself very clear yet nothing has changed.
I am fourteen years old now. It has been three years since I met this person. I have been beaten down, stomped on, flattened out and left in the dark. I have been emotionally stunted. I have been confused for too long. I’ve tried to figure it all out, make sense of what has happened but with no significant results. What the hell happened to us?
I’ll be 100% truthful here; I never wanted to lose her as a friend. I still wish that we were friends. I’m jealous of those who have taken my place. When I think about all the good times that we’ve had, it temporarily makes me forget about the awful stuff. I miss my friend all the time.
Today I told someone that I wish I had never met her when I was eleven. I honestly and completely wish I hadn’t. I wish I never met her. I wish I never knew her. I wish she moved to Nebraska when she was ten so I wouldn’t have had to bear the emotional suffering and misfortune of knowing her. Sound harsh? Maybe so.
No one in my life has ever hurt me like she’s hurt me. No one has confused me like she has. No one has ever treated me so terribly yet kept me close to them by use of false apologies and artificial kindness. I’ve never met someone who is that much of a delirious conniving sociopath that would go through best friends like water but keep one individual around them for as long as possible. And for what purpose?
Last night I had a dream. She was in this dream. She was going through an emotional trauma. It was set in current times so I was aware that we were no longer close. Still, being the loyal, pathetic person I am, I dove to her side, consoling her for what seemed like a long time. As soon as she was comforted, she left with the very friends who had hurt her because they wanted her too.The sad thing is, this is exactly what would happen in real life.
I’m sick of it. I’m sick of feeling responsible. I’m sick of feeling guilty. I’m sick of feeling empathetic towards her but sorry for myself. I’m sick of the bullshit. I’m sick of the games. I’m sick of the fake apologies. I’m sick of the awkward small talk. I’m sick of the uncomfortable silences. I’m sick of her.
This is for every time you hurt my feelings and made me cry when I was still young and stupid enough to be hurt.This is for every time you defended someone over me.
This is for every time I regretted knowing you.
This is for every time a boyfriend you’ve had insulted me.
This is for every time you kissed the boy I’d liked since grade school.
This is for every time your cousins have harassed me.
This is for every text you didn’t respond to.
This is for every time I rushed to your side to comfort you.
This is for every tear shed last April.
This is for every best friend you’ve had since me.
This is for every time you’ve hurt me.
Fuck you, ‘sis’.
"The girl I knew, well, I don't even know her."
Friday, February 27, 2009
JUNE 21ST, 2008!!
June 21st, 2008 was an interesting to say the very least. Red Wood Drift was holding another weekly session of band practice at Tori’s house. While it was only 85 degrees outside, it was about 110 degrees inside Tori’s house. “Can we turn on the air conditioner?” I pleaded from my spot in the center of the room where I sat atop a wooden barstool, adjusting the microphone stand that was too high for me. “I’m begging you, Tor. This is getting ridiculous.” “I can’t, bro. My mom will flip out on me.” She responded dully from her seat in the corner. She was struggling to tune her guitar but it was just one of those days where the guitar did not want to be tuned. “Where’s Costello?” I glanced over at my cell phone where the time stamp in the corner read ‘4:59 PM’. “Technically,” I began, leaning forward to fasten the stand for the last time. “He isn’t late yet. Practice was set for 5:00.” “Whatever, bro.” Tori said, shaking her head as she played a string to test it. I looked back at my cell phone and watched the time tick to 5:00 and then to 5:01. “Yo, is Sam coming?” I shrugged, running my fingers through my hair that was now sticking to my forehead. I wore a dark-red Kum Sung Camp T-shirt, bright red half-flowered, half-skulled boy’s swim trunks (hey man, don’t judge. They’re comfortable!) and a red tank top. There was a color-theme that day, I presume. I always liked the color red but the summer of 2008 was my chance to ‘Rock-the-Red’ for the Devils who didn’t make it very far in the playoffs. “She said she’d be here.” And as if it were scripted, Sam appeared on the doorstep, knocking at the entrance. “COME IN!” I yelled, as was custom to greet the visitors at the Gil household. Sam walked into the extraordinarily overheated abode and waved to me. She did not wave to Tori which I, for one, found odd. In case you readers have forgotten, Sam and Tori started ‘going out’ (is that what these kids are calling it these days?) 10 days before this event. Frankly, I did NOT want to get involved with whatever these two decided was going on between them. I had enough going on in my own life at this point to try to ignore other people’s problems. Even though they were two of my best friends, I knew this was a weird and awkward situation that came as a semi-shock to the group. “Hi.” Tori said, not looking up from her guitar. Sam didn’t respond immediately (or verbally) and just slightly nodded her chin as a ‘greeting’. I rolled my eyes. Another annoying point about these two was that they had the communication skills of 18-month-olds. “I’m going to call Christopher.” I said, attempting to excuse myself. As if that were scripted also, Chris walked into the house holding the case for his bass guitar. “Hey dudes.” He said with smile. “You have bad timing.” I whispered to him. He peered over my shoulder and looked over at Sam and Tori, uncomfortably tried to avoid eye-contact with each other. “It’s a little uneasy in here.” “Why?” He asked, then seemed to realize exactly why and laughed quietly to himself. “Ohh…right.” I nodded.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
2008.
So I just read Sam's blog. Alright, I always read Sam's blogs but the one I read tonight made me think. Why? Well, because she said that 'no one will ever understand'. And that is untrue. I know what it's like to remember everything. I know what it's like to have a song come on your iPod that makes you cringe. I know what it's like to walk outside when it's strangely warm out and to feel this weird knot in your stomach because you remember when it felt like that May and you were getting on the bus in shorts, listening to the same song you had on. I know what it's like and I understand.
Alright, maybe it's true. Maybe I didn't feel the complete emotional trauma that Sam had. I wasn't in love with a girl last year causing extreme confusion and pain. Maybe that makes my 2008 less traumatic. But I had a best friend who I worshiped like a god for 3 years, only for her to abandon me, date a kid I liked for years, let her family and friends verbally abuse me on every given occasion and just feel like I wasn't worth having a best friend because clearly I wasn't good enough. You know it isn't healthy when the person with whom you once shared your life secrets with now makes you uncomfortable. I can't talk to her without looking at my feet and pretending that I have nothing to say. When I see my old 'best friend' in the hallway, I'm hit with a rush of anger and sadness and I feel like I could possibly have Hulk-like strength that could enable me to punch a hole into a door.
When certain songs come on my iPod, I feel it in my stomach and in my chest. I can recall exactly why the song makes me feel that way. Most of the songs on the Naked Brothers Band CD and the Your Sweet Uncertainty CD are the songs that are poison to my mind. I can't really explain it or understand it and frankly I don't really want to because even if I understood it, I couldn't stop it. I just want things to go back to how they were. It doesn't help that Chris does to a different school. It doesn't help that Sam decided to never go to school again and leave me there to fend for myself in my first year of hell-ish high school. It doesn't help that I feel alone all the time. It doesn't help that the songs that drive my mind to insanity are the songs that make me feel slightly closer to the past events that I crave.
I once joked that when people talk about the 2007-2008 school year, they will simply reply with 'I have nothing to say' due to the fact that it was so complicated and emotionally draining that it was simply easier to avoid comment or remembrance. I wasn't joking, after all.
Alright, maybe it's true. Maybe I didn't feel the complete emotional trauma that Sam had. I wasn't in love with a girl last year causing extreme confusion and pain. Maybe that makes my 2008 less traumatic. But I had a best friend who I worshiped like a god for 3 years, only for her to abandon me, date a kid I liked for years, let her family and friends verbally abuse me on every given occasion and just feel like I wasn't worth having a best friend because clearly I wasn't good enough. You know it isn't healthy when the person with whom you once shared your life secrets with now makes you uncomfortable. I can't talk to her without looking at my feet and pretending that I have nothing to say. When I see my old 'best friend' in the hallway, I'm hit with a rush of anger and sadness and I feel like I could possibly have Hulk-like strength that could enable me to punch a hole into a door.
When certain songs come on my iPod, I feel it in my stomach and in my chest. I can recall exactly why the song makes me feel that way. Most of the songs on the Naked Brothers Band CD and the Your Sweet Uncertainty CD are the songs that are poison to my mind. I can't really explain it or understand it and frankly I don't really want to because even if I understood it, I couldn't stop it. I just want things to go back to how they were. It doesn't help that Chris does to a different school. It doesn't help that Sam decided to never go to school again and leave me there to fend for myself in my first year of hell-ish high school. It doesn't help that I feel alone all the time. It doesn't help that the songs that drive my mind to insanity are the songs that make me feel slightly closer to the past events that I crave.
I once joked that when people talk about the 2007-2008 school year, they will simply reply with 'I have nothing to say' due to the fact that it was so complicated and emotionally draining that it was simply easier to avoid comment or remembrance. I wasn't joking, after all.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Presidents Weekend Day 4
Ah, another day off from school. Thank you Presidents Weekend.
Today, I watched 'Top Gun' today. Adrian Pasdar is in that movie and since it was from 1986, 23 years ago, Adrian was 19. He was hot then, too.
'Top Gun' is a great movie, too. It was from before Tom Cruise was jumping-on-a-couch-worshiping-a-dead-science-fiction-writer crazy. He actually used to be pretty cute.
Tomorrow I have school. I hate school.
Today, I watched 'Top Gun' today. Adrian Pasdar is in that movie and since it was from 1986, 23 years ago, Adrian was 19. He was hot then, too.
'Top Gun' is a great movie, too. It was from before Tom Cruise was jumping-on-a-couch-worshiping-a-dead-science-fiction-writer crazy. He actually used to be pretty cute.
Tomorrow I have school. I hate school.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Fan Fiction
Well, I'm watching 'Heroes' and Sylar just totally went from good to evil in two hours. Yeah, in the previous episode, him and Elle totally hooked up on the floor of that house that they just tried to kill Noah and Claire in. Now he just killed her. I hate Sylar but I also hate Elle.
Oh yeah, fan fiction is evil. If you don't know what fan fiction is, I envy you. In a nutshell, fan fiction is when a fan of a show or book series writes their own short-story staring the characters. I stumbled across a 'Grey's Anatomy' fan fiction site where some people are very, uhm, open about what they'd love to see some of the characters do...like together. Bleh. Callie and Erica fan fiction will make you want to boil your eyes.
Tomorrow I attempt to shoot a music video with Christopher.
That's all I got for now.
Oh yeah, fan fiction is evil. If you don't know what fan fiction is, I envy you. In a nutshell, fan fiction is when a fan of a show or book series writes their own short-story staring the characters. I stumbled across a 'Grey's Anatomy' fan fiction site where some people are very, uhm, open about what they'd love to see some of the characters do...like together. Bleh. Callie and Erica fan fiction will make you want to boil your eyes.
Tomorrow I attempt to shoot a music video with Christopher.
That's all I got for now.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Art.
This is Patrick Kane of the Chicago Blackhawks. He would look like that if he was a South Park character. Notice how similar the hair is.
This is Jonathan Toews of the Chicago Blackhawks. He would look like that if he was a South Park character. Again, very similar hair.
That is all.
Galletas es muy yummy. (Cookies are muy yummy)
Ahhhh!
I don't even know where to start. The weather today was/is amazing. It's like 72 degrees out and it's February. As nice as the weather is, a whole new set of problems develops under the surface of the bubbly May-warm waters. Those problems aside, (we'll touch on them later), I've been feeling weird lately. I'm used to getting the deja-vu. Anyone who survived the 2007-2008 school year in my friends group gets the deja-vu, I think.
But lately? Jeez.
Every time a song comes on, I feel like I'm sitting on my bed, black curtains pulled back so the April/May sunshine could brighten my room, playing Spyro Ripto's Rage. I want it to stop. 8th grade it over. It will never happen again. My friends are different. I am different. We are not close like we used to be. Nicole and I are no longer best friends. Sam and Chris are no longer in all of my classes. The weather isn't as nice as it was then (thought today is a beautiful exception). The Devils aren't unvictorious against the Rangers and Islanders. Jeff Kummer is no longer with Your Sweet Uncertainty. Miss Sherarer and Ms. Silvers aren't my teachers anymore. My surgery scar is no longer fresh and awesome looking. No more Life Skills, no more Woodshop, no more B-wing bathrooms with tomb-sized stalls. No more 'Scott Stevens 4-for-40 promotions'. No more taking Chris's Pringles and water bottles. No more Jolly Ranchers from Spanish. No more enrichment. At the time all of this happened, I hated it. SO WHY THE HELL DO I WANT IT BACK SO MUCH? Why is it haunting me?! Why is April & May stuck in my head so badly?
I swear to God, all I can think about for these last few days is what it felt like when I was living through it. Every day, I sat on my bed. I got the PS2 out. I played Spyro II: Ripto's Rage. I listened to the Naked Brothers Band album 'I Don't Want To Go To School' and to Your Sweet Uncertainty's self-titled album. I pulled back the black curtains I used to keep light out so I didn't have to turn the lamp on. I liked the way sunlight looked rather than lamp light. I remember playing that one bonus level in Spyro where the mayor of the city wanted you to stop crime by flying with Hunter. I want to forget it ever happened.
On a side note, I can't stop eating junk food because I stress eat.
And I'm pissed at Sam.
And I like goalie.
I know people said being a teenager is confusing and stressful but this is freaking ridiculous.
Nothing else to say. I'll end this entry with a fitting song. Play me out, Natalie!
And sometimes I don't have the energy,
To prove everybody wrong.
And I try my best to be strong,
But you know, it's so hard.
It's so hard.
I don't even know where to start. The weather today was/is amazing. It's like 72 degrees out and it's February. As nice as the weather is, a whole new set of problems develops under the surface of the bubbly May-warm waters. Those problems aside, (we'll touch on them later), I've been feeling weird lately. I'm used to getting the deja-vu. Anyone who survived the 2007-2008 school year in my friends group gets the deja-vu, I think.
But lately? Jeez.
Every time a song comes on, I feel like I'm sitting on my bed, black curtains pulled back so the April/May sunshine could brighten my room, playing Spyro Ripto's Rage. I want it to stop. 8th grade it over. It will never happen again. My friends are different. I am different. We are not close like we used to be. Nicole and I are no longer best friends. Sam and Chris are no longer in all of my classes. The weather isn't as nice as it was then (thought today is a beautiful exception). The Devils aren't unvictorious against the Rangers and Islanders. Jeff Kummer is no longer with Your Sweet Uncertainty. Miss Sherarer and Ms. Silvers aren't my teachers anymore. My surgery scar is no longer fresh and awesome looking. No more Life Skills, no more Woodshop, no more B-wing bathrooms with tomb-sized stalls. No more 'Scott Stevens 4-for-40 promotions'. No more taking Chris's Pringles and water bottles. No more Jolly Ranchers from Spanish. No more enrichment. At the time all of this happened, I hated it. SO WHY THE HELL DO I WANT IT BACK SO MUCH? Why is it haunting me?! Why is April & May stuck in my head so badly?
I swear to God, all I can think about for these last few days is what it felt like when I was living through it. Every day, I sat on my bed. I got the PS2 out. I played Spyro II: Ripto's Rage. I listened to the Naked Brothers Band album 'I Don't Want To Go To School' and to Your Sweet Uncertainty's self-titled album. I pulled back the black curtains I used to keep light out so I didn't have to turn the lamp on. I liked the way sunlight looked rather than lamp light. I remember playing that one bonus level in Spyro where the mayor of the city wanted you to stop crime by flying with Hunter. I want to forget it ever happened.
On a side note, I can't stop eating junk food because I stress eat.
And I'm pissed at Sam.
And I like goalie.
I know people said being a teenager is confusing and stressful but this is freaking ridiculous.
Nothing else to say. I'll end this entry with a fitting song. Play me out, Natalie!
And sometimes I don't have the energy,
To prove everybody wrong.
And I try my best to be strong,
But you know, it's so hard.
It's so hard.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Post-Loss Part 1
Oy vey, this was a long day (ignore the rhyme). Between the merciless stomach pains I've been having for 48 hours and the disappointing crushing defeat my hockey team suffered last night in our last game, this day seemed to go on for months. Every little thing annoys me today, every little sound hurts my head and everyone moving and talking is making me angry. This isn't a good sign. I'm turning back into angry-Kristyn. I thought that I had gotten at least a little softer since last year when I was a little on the dark-and-twisty side. Still, it was a rough day.
It got off to a bad start when my iPod decided to do the usual 'freeze-up-and-drop-down-three-battery-bars-in-three-seconds'. That pisses me off to no end. Seriously? Why do the silver nanos do that? With my iPod already on the 'red-danger-zone-low-battery-mode', I headed to hell...err...school. My first class is algebra and I don't understand a word of what my teacher is saying. I just cannot focus in that class. Whenever she starts explaining a concept, my mind zones out and goes to my hockey fantasy (now, before my smartmouth friends make some mean jokes at me due to the fact that 'hockey' and 'fantasy' were used in the same sentence there, let me explain)
My hockey fantasy is an actual sports-based idea. Here it is:
I am sitting on the bench because my shift isn't out yet. Both teams are swarming the net of the opposing goalie. The puck gets loose and everyone rushes to the other net. One of my teammates gets checked and struggles to his feet near the opposing goalie. He gets up and comes to the bench where I hop on the ice to take his place. Suddenly, the puck is cleared on a long pass where it makes contact with my stick. I have a huge opportunity. I break away, charging the net. I fake a forehand and the goalie, clearly confused that I had the puck, jumps forward for the poke check. I manage to deke the puck around him, giving me the whole net to shoot at. I backhand the puck as hard as I can and it sails into the net; top-left corner. The bench erupts.
That is my hockey fantasy. It is much better than math class.
Then, there's gym class. I kind of like gym only because my new-found crush is in the same gym period as me. Yes, I like this new kid. I decided I had to like someone and he was the perfect canidate. He's got a BOY haircut. He wears his pants actually on his waist. He wears clothes with sports logos on it. He's kind of a jackass but I think he's pretty cute. He plays on my hockey team. I call him 'goalie', for obvious reasons. I also never use his name because there is one player on my hockey team, let's call him Charlie, is a half-friend; sometimes nice, sometimes not. I do not wish for him and his big-Charlie-mouth to tell the entire hockey team who I'm crushing on. So aside from the fact that I saw Goalie once in the hallway (yesterday, I think) and my face turned the color of a cherry, I think I'll be okay.
I've been kind of angry today because last night at our last game, before the game ended with us losing horribly, there was an incident. See, the play had stopped. The referee had blown his whistle and we were going to a face off when all of a sudden, some jagoff on the other team came by and elbowed one of the girl players on my team, let's call her Leah, in the neck/face mask. Leah, a badass senior who is a very talented skater and hockey player, was unhappy with that. After screaming some things I'm censoring for this blog, she punched him in the helmet and went to tackle him. It took a referee and two players to restrain Leah who headed to the penalty box where she served a coincidental and threw her gloves, stick and helmet at the glass.
What makes me really, really mad was what happened off the ice. Apparently, one of the adults (I'm assuming the father of the jagoff who hit Leah) was in the mood to mouth of. This man decided to yell to the ice: "KICK HER OUT OF THE GAME! THIS IS WHY CHICKS SHOULDN'T PLAY THE SPORT!!!"
Grrr. Nothing makes me angrier. There is a girl who plays hockey for one of our sister-schools is so much better than every guy I've ever seen play. I mean, this girl looks like she should be on the Flyers. I've never seen someone skate like her. Even the 3 other girls on my team are good! Why are people so damn stupid that they don't understand that just because we're girls doesn't mean we can't play hockey. Who cares if it's a male dominated sport? If we lived in Vancouver, there'd be 6 girl leauges just for our township. But now, I have to live in this gay part of the world where hockey is underrated and squashed by football and soccer and girls are frowned upon for lacing up their skates and stepping foot in a face off circle. I just hate people in general right now.
Plus Sam just called me and told me that she apparently did something that I am going to get mad at her for. Awesome.
It got off to a bad start when my iPod decided to do the usual 'freeze-up-and-drop-down-three-battery-bars-in-three-seconds'. That pisses me off to no end. Seriously? Why do the silver nanos do that? With my iPod already on the 'red-danger-zone-low-battery-mode', I headed to hell...err...school. My first class is algebra and I don't understand a word of what my teacher is saying. I just cannot focus in that class. Whenever she starts explaining a concept, my mind zones out and goes to my hockey fantasy (now, before my smartmouth friends make some mean jokes at me due to the fact that 'hockey' and 'fantasy' were used in the same sentence there, let me explain)
My hockey fantasy is an actual sports-based idea. Here it is:
I am sitting on the bench because my shift isn't out yet. Both teams are swarming the net of the opposing goalie. The puck gets loose and everyone rushes to the other net. One of my teammates gets checked and struggles to his feet near the opposing goalie. He gets up and comes to the bench where I hop on the ice to take his place. Suddenly, the puck is cleared on a long pass where it makes contact with my stick. I have a huge opportunity. I break away, charging the net. I fake a forehand and the goalie, clearly confused that I had the puck, jumps forward for the poke check. I manage to deke the puck around him, giving me the whole net to shoot at. I backhand the puck as hard as I can and it sails into the net; top-left corner. The bench erupts.
That is my hockey fantasy. It is much better than math class.
Then, there's gym class. I kind of like gym only because my new-found crush is in the same gym period as me. Yes, I like this new kid. I decided I had to like someone and he was the perfect canidate. He's got a BOY haircut. He wears his pants actually on his waist. He wears clothes with sports logos on it. He's kind of a jackass but I think he's pretty cute. He plays on my hockey team. I call him 'goalie', for obvious reasons. I also never use his name because there is one player on my hockey team, let's call him Charlie, is a half-friend; sometimes nice, sometimes not. I do not wish for him and his big-Charlie-mouth to tell the entire hockey team who I'm crushing on. So aside from the fact that I saw Goalie once in the hallway (yesterday, I think) and my face turned the color of a cherry, I think I'll be okay.
I've been kind of angry today because last night at our last game, before the game ended with us losing horribly, there was an incident. See, the play had stopped. The referee had blown his whistle and we were going to a face off when all of a sudden, some jagoff on the other team came by and elbowed one of the girl players on my team, let's call her Leah, in the neck/face mask. Leah, a badass senior who is a very talented skater and hockey player, was unhappy with that. After screaming some things I'm censoring for this blog, she punched him in the helmet and went to tackle him. It took a referee and two players to restrain Leah who headed to the penalty box where she served a coincidental and threw her gloves, stick and helmet at the glass.
What makes me really, really mad was what happened off the ice. Apparently, one of the adults (I'm assuming the father of the jagoff who hit Leah) was in the mood to mouth of. This man decided to yell to the ice: "KICK HER OUT OF THE GAME! THIS IS WHY CHICKS SHOULDN'T PLAY THE SPORT!!!"
Grrr. Nothing makes me angrier. There is a girl who plays hockey for one of our sister-schools is so much better than every guy I've ever seen play. I mean, this girl looks like she should be on the Flyers. I've never seen someone skate like her. Even the 3 other girls on my team are good! Why are people so damn stupid that they don't understand that just because we're girls doesn't mean we can't play hockey. Who cares if it's a male dominated sport? If we lived in Vancouver, there'd be 6 girl leauges just for our township. But now, I have to live in this gay part of the world where hockey is underrated and squashed by football and soccer and girls are frowned upon for lacing up their skates and stepping foot in a face off circle. I just hate people in general right now.
Plus Sam just called me and told me that she apparently did something that I am going to get mad at her for. Awesome.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Things I've Learned
Just some random tidbits of information that I have learned:
1. If you're going to whisper that you hate someone, actually whisper it.
2. When a teacher says to talk to her about your grade after class, it means after class.
3. Depending on what sense you mean it in, learn to spell 'come' by yourself.
4. 'Safe Search' on Google was created to help you. Use it.
5. Martin Brodeur's elbow-muscles aren't as resilient as they once were.
6. Thinking all Americans look the same is racist.
7. Spamming someone's phone with gay dating sites is not the ultimate revenge.
8. Hockey checks are the ultimate revenge.
9. 'The Curious Case of Benjamin Button' isn't very curious. It's just gay.
10. 'Juno' must be destroyed.
11. Sean Avery is still an idiot.
12. In a life-or-death situation, your body will physically stop you from saying something mega-stupid.
13. If you're going to stop a slap shot with a part of your body, pick your shins. They have more
padding than your hands do with gloves.
14. I'm allergic to Honey-Suckle-scented lotion from that store in the mall.
15. Ralphie May has never been snorkl'n in the oc'hin.
16. The fact that we're playing Montreal will not stop Devils fans from chanting 'The Rangers Suck'.
17. Natalie Maines doesn't like Niki Sanders.
18. Lil Wayne follows around the Boston Bruins to make money to afford pot.
19. Kevin Weekes likes Rubix Cubes.
And possibly the most important...
20. WHEN IN A HOCKEY LOCKER ROOM, IF YOU'RE GOING TO TAKE OFF YOUR JOCK-STRAP AND BOXERS, LOOK AROUND TO SEE IF THERE IS AN INTERVIEW CAMERA BROADCASTING LIVE TO ESPN! YOU NEVER KNOW IF YOU'LL BE IN THE FRAME!
2. When a teacher says to talk to her about your grade after class, it means after class.
3. Depending on what sense you mean it in, learn to spell 'come' by yourself.
4. 'Safe Search' on Google was created to help you. Use it.
5. Martin Brodeur's elbow-muscles aren't as resilient as they once were.
6. Thinking all Americans look the same is racist.
7. Spamming someone's phone with gay dating sites is not the ultimate revenge.
8. Hockey checks are the ultimate revenge.
9. 'The Curious Case of Benjamin Button' isn't very curious. It's just gay.
10. 'Juno' must be destroyed.
11. Sean Avery is still an idiot.
12. In a life-or-death situation, your body will physically stop you from saying something mega-stupid.
13. If you're going to stop a slap shot with a part of your body, pick your shins. They have more
padding than your hands do with gloves.
14. I'm allergic to Honey-Suckle-scented lotion from that store in the mall.
15. Ralphie May has never been snorkl'n in the oc'hin.
16. The fact that we're playing Montreal will not stop Devils fans from chanting 'The Rangers Suck'.
17. Natalie Maines doesn't like Niki Sanders.
18. Lil Wayne follows around the Boston Bruins to make money to afford pot.
19. Kevin Weekes likes Rubix Cubes.
And possibly the most important...
20. WHEN IN A HOCKEY LOCKER ROOM, IF YOU'RE GOING TO TAKE OFF YOUR JOCK-STRAP AND BOXERS, LOOK AROUND TO SEE IF THERE IS AN INTERVIEW CAMERA BROADCASTING LIVE TO ESPN! YOU NEVER KNOW IF YOU'LL BE IN THE FRAME!
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Lil Wayne Is Gay - by Howard Stern
Hey now. This is Howard Stern. I decided to take a break from my busy radio show on Sirius Radio (Howard 100 and 101 for those who want to tune in tomorrow) to talk about something important on my friend Kristyn's blog. What I wanted to talk about is very serious and is a pandemic sweeping the nation; Lil Wayne is gay.
I'm not kidding. Lil Wayne claims to be a Boston Bruins fan. Well, I know Boston Bruins goalie, Tim Thomas, very well. He's been a fan of the show for years now and we talk on a regular basis. Timmy told me that Lil Wayne follows the team around the country and told star defenseman Zdeno Chara how he fantasizes about him and many other players including Marc Savard. Now, at first, I didn't believe it either. But my good friend Timmy provided pictures. Like this one:
Now, I don't judge. I mean, I'm married to a super model, I'm a comedic genius and I have millions of dollars but I've got problems too. So I don't judge anyone. But Lil Wayne, for as untalented as he is, he thinks he's amazing. And on top of that, he likes dudes! Well guys, I've got to go. Artie's calling me right now about the Grammys. I guess Justin Timberlake didn't win...I told Artie not to bet on him.
I hope you enjoyed this rant. Keep reading Kristyn's blog.
-Howard Stern.
I'm not kidding. Lil Wayne claims to be a Boston Bruins fan. Well, I know Boston Bruins goalie, Tim Thomas, very well. He's been a fan of the show for years now and we talk on a regular basis. Timmy told me that Lil Wayne follows the team around the country and told star defenseman Zdeno Chara how he fantasizes about him and many other players including Marc Savard. Now, at first, I didn't believe it either. But my good friend Timmy provided pictures. Like this one:
Now, I don't judge. I mean, I'm married to a super model, I'm a comedic genius and I have millions of dollars but I've got problems too. So I don't judge anyone. But Lil Wayne, for as untalented as he is, he thinks he's amazing. And on top of that, he likes dudes! Well guys, I've got to go. Artie's calling me right now about the Grammys. I guess Justin Timberlake didn't win...I told Artie not to bet on him.
I hope you enjoyed this rant. Keep reading Kristyn's blog.
-Howard Stern.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Do you want to know what's so cute?
Man, I hate it when the Devils lose. We didn't lose because we played poorly (we did play poorly, but not poorly enough to lose the LA Kings!) but because the referee's were idiots. Patrik Elias was called for a 'high-stick' when he hit a guy with his shoulder. They didn't call a penalty on a King who hooked Jamie Lang's by his ankles. They gave one King a penalty shot!! None of this would've happened if they gave Kevin Weeksie one more shot.
My hockey misery aside, I had a good day. Sam came over for the first time since like August and we watched this horrid hockey game mentioned above. We also watched some of the Vancouver/Chicago game (which I'm still watching) where one of the Baby Blackhawks got called for a 'high stick'. I didn't believe it was a penalty until I saw the guy who Baby Jonathan Toews hit; he was bleeding from his mouth...a lot. I mean a lot. There are two Baby Blackhawks; Jonathan Toews and Patrick Kane. There's an article in Sports Illustrated where they're talking to Patrick Kane. Patrick is adorable but honsetly looks like he's in the 10th grade. In the intrview for Sports Illustrated, Patrick said his favorite show was 'Family Guy', his favorite musical artist is Lil Wayne and that he cannot grow a beard. Like I said, 10th grader. Jonathan Toews looks like a 7th grader. Don't believe me?
Keep in mind that they're both 20 years old!!
I'm tired so I'm going to head to sleep.
Skill point.
Clarky hearts. <3
My hockey misery aside, I had a good day. Sam came over for the first time since like August and we watched this horrid hockey game mentioned above. We also watched some of the Vancouver/Chicago game (which I'm still watching) where one of the Baby Blackhawks got called for a 'high stick'. I didn't believe it was a penalty until I saw the guy who Baby Jonathan Toews hit; he was bleeding from his mouth...a lot. I mean a lot. There are two Baby Blackhawks; Jonathan Toews and Patrick Kane. There's an article in Sports Illustrated where they're talking to Patrick Kane. Patrick is adorable but honsetly looks like he's in the 10th grade. In the intrview for Sports Illustrated, Patrick said his favorite show was 'Family Guy', his favorite musical artist is Lil Wayne and that he cannot grow a beard. Like I said, 10th grader. Jonathan Toews looks like a 7th grader. Don't believe me?
Keep in mind that they're both 20 years old!!
I'm tired so I'm going to head to sleep.
Skill point.
Clarky hearts. <3
Friday, February 6, 2009
Hey Now!
Why would I make another blog, you ask? Well, to put simply, I do not know. I just read Sam's newest (old) blog that originally wasn't a blog. It was inspiring. You'd understand if you knew Sam like I know her. In a weird way, it's really good to hear the things she said (err...wrote.)
Anyways, this is my diary. Chris sort of has one and Sam uses her's sometimes too so I think i want to go back and blog about what happens to me as well as blogging on my hockey blog that I adore.
But, bleh. I feel so unoriginal because this layout that I am using for my blog is the same that Mr. Jefferey Matthew Kummer has for his. Whatever though, normally I'm much more creative, original and 'taking-the-long-way'.
Okay, here we go.
Today was my last hockey practice of the season. That made me sad. We didn't do anything fun at all. We started off practice with the Boston Wheel drill (start in the corner, skate around the main face off circle, receive a pass, take a shot). Then we divided the ice into three sections and divided the players into three groups. One group did a pass-skate-shoot drill, one group practiced passing and one group worked with one of the coaches on all five-kinds of shots. Then we had a scrimmage. That was it.
I tried to shoot like Jonathan Toews of the Chicaho Blackhawks. There's this one commercial on the NHL Network where the announcer goes "Jonathan Towes! Forehand, backhand. What a goal! Amazing! Did you see that Chicago?" So I've been trying to master a forehand deke and then backhanding the rebound. The goalie has shut me down on every one. Today, I got very close. I deked right where he dove for it and I recovered the rebound and blasted a backhand. It bounced off the right post. GRRR.
While on the bench during a scrimmage, I wished I was playing on the other team. I hated having to share a scrimmage team with Robbie. Last practice, I hit him three times. The first two times, I hit him into the boards so he didn't fall down, just got smashed. The third time, I hit him out in the open so he fell down. My team cheered for me. It felt good to hear cheering.
This time, I wasn't playing against Robbie. I wanted to hit him but I didn't have the option. It's sad that it's our last practice. It's even sadder that I didn't get to hit Robbie. I don't like him at all. No me gusta nada. He hurt my feelings after claiming to be in love with me and then two days later meeting some chick and then telling the world how in love with her he was. I didn't like him all that much but it made me feel bad about myself. Hitting him made me feel a lot better because I knew it was the hockey-leagal way to hit him. Maybe next season I'll be a Colin White type player where I just own everyone with my hits of fury.
A Devils game is coming on so I need to switch blogs.
I also stopped a slapshot with my hand today. Let me just say...OW!! OUCH! It hurts. A lot. I thought I broke it. I feel better now, though. Just wanted to say that.
Later dudes.
Anyways, this is my diary. Chris sort of has one and Sam uses her's sometimes too so I think i want to go back and blog about what happens to me as well as blogging on my hockey blog that I adore.
But, bleh. I feel so unoriginal because this layout that I am using for my blog is the same that Mr. Jefferey Matthew Kummer has for his. Whatever though, normally I'm much more creative, original and 'taking-the-long-way'.
Okay, here we go.
Today was my last hockey practice of the season. That made me sad. We didn't do anything fun at all. We started off practice with the Boston Wheel drill (start in the corner, skate around the main face off circle, receive a pass, take a shot). Then we divided the ice into three sections and divided the players into three groups. One group did a pass-skate-shoot drill, one group practiced passing and one group worked with one of the coaches on all five-kinds of shots. Then we had a scrimmage. That was it.
I tried to shoot like Jonathan Toews of the Chicaho Blackhawks. There's this one commercial on the NHL Network where the announcer goes "Jonathan Towes! Forehand, backhand. What a goal! Amazing! Did you see that Chicago?" So I've been trying to master a forehand deke and then backhanding the rebound. The goalie has shut me down on every one. Today, I got very close. I deked right where he dove for it and I recovered the rebound and blasted a backhand. It bounced off the right post. GRRR.
While on the bench during a scrimmage, I wished I was playing on the other team. I hated having to share a scrimmage team with Robbie. Last practice, I hit him three times. The first two times, I hit him into the boards so he didn't fall down, just got smashed. The third time, I hit him out in the open so he fell down. My team cheered for me. It felt good to hear cheering.
This time, I wasn't playing against Robbie. I wanted to hit him but I didn't have the option. It's sad that it's our last practice. It's even sadder that I didn't get to hit Robbie. I don't like him at all. No me gusta nada. He hurt my feelings after claiming to be in love with me and then two days later meeting some chick and then telling the world how in love with her he was. I didn't like him all that much but it made me feel bad about myself. Hitting him made me feel a lot better because I knew it was the hockey-leagal way to hit him. Maybe next season I'll be a Colin White type player where I just own everyone with my hits of fury.
A Devils game is coming on so I need to switch blogs.
I also stopped a slapshot with my hand today. Let me just say...OW!! OUCH! It hurts. A lot. I thought I broke it. I feel better now, though. Just wanted to say that.
Later dudes.
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