Where Do We Go Now? - GNR

There are two sections of my bedroom where lyrics are taped to the walls. The first place is between my bookshelf and my bed stand. Those lyrics have been there for a long time, probably five or six years without modification. The songs include: "99 Red Balloons" by Goldfinger, "The Anthem" by Good Charlotte, "Everything Is Alright" by Motion City Soundtrack, "Here It Goes Again" By OK Go, "Beverly Hills" by Weezer, and "Holiday In Spain" by Counting Crows.

More recently, but still aged by three years or so, are the lyrics on my ceiling above my bed. They are: "Pain" by Three Days Grace, "Redundant," "Hitchin A Ride," and "16" by Green Day, "My World" by Avirl Lavigne, "Sweet Child O' Mine" by Guns N' Roses, and "Kryptonite" by 3 Doors Down. Some of these songs make me laugh and think why I ever put the lyrics on my wall (Avril Lavigne). The majority of the songs and artists are still high up on my favorites list, especially Green Day, Guns N' Roses, Weezer, and Counting Crows. I love and am proud of the music I listen to. The lyrics on my walls are not a fair representation. Most of the time I can put my iTunes library on shuffle and be satisfied with any song that plays.

I make it my business to be an influence on other people's music tastes and greatly appreciate when they influence mine.

Written 11 November 2009

Disturb and Perturb the Mind

A while ago I bought a book like I usually do at Barnes and Noble when I have gift cards to spend. I picked this book up off a table of "buy two, get the third free" paperbacks along with "I Love You, Beth Cooper" by Larry Doyle and "The Bell Jar" by Sylvia Plath. The third book, the one I'm speaking of, was "Fragile Things" by Neil Gaiman. I had heard positive acclamations of Neil Gaiman and his work before so I guessed this collection of short fiction wouldn't be a bad choice. Plus, the cover was very inviting.

Up to this point, I've read quite a few of the shorts fictions. My favorite so far is "October in the Chair." Most of the stories are off by certainly entertaining. This book is somewhat a new leaf in my endeavorer of fiction reading, as the writing, subject matter, and plot are very different from anything I've read before.

The most recent short story I read was called "Feeders and Eaters." It was about a man's account to another man of an encounter with a strange woman who needed to eat raw meat to survive. She eventually held the cat, owned by her boarding family, hostage and each day sliced some meat off it's hind legs. The man telling the story and this creepy woman ended up together at the end of the story, and the man who was listening to the account was left completely bewildered. I too was left very confused and somewhat disgusted. The image of the mutilated cat left a bad taste in my mouth.

However, that bad taste was not a hindrance in my enjoyment of the story. The language Gaiman uses is easy to comprehend but still reaches a high level of sophistication. I have enjoyed all that I've read so far and look forward to reading my way through the rest of the book. I definitely suggest this book.

Written on 9 November 2009

Hunter's Moon

The moon was full yesterday. It's been a while since I've taken time to watch a moon rise. On Halloween, I noticed how close the moon was to being full and made a note in my head that I wanted to watch it rise on the second. On November first, I made my sister go on a walk with me around our neighborhood at five o'clock, the time of the moon rise. We walked five laps, around a mile and a quarter. The change we witnessed in the sky was drastic. The sun had just set when we were began walking, and by the time we were finished, the moon was up, the stars were out, and the sky was dark.

We followed the same pattern the next night to see the full moon of November 2nd. After walking another five laps, Sawyor went inside. I asked her to turn off our porch lights so I could see the moon and stars better. I sat on the trunk of my car, which wasn't all that comfortable. I sat there for about an hour, and in that time, a dozen or so airplanes passed over my head, two flocks of geese startled me, and quite a few fire engines went by in nearby streets. It took a while for the moon to be visible through the clouds, but when I could finally see it, the moment was well worth the wait. I took pictures, but they don't do it justice.

Written on 3 November 2009

Ice On Walden Pond

I am a Thoreau fan. I appreciate his writing much like a piece of art. His words are on the wall in my high school library. They appear:

"Books are the treasured wealth of the world..."

I read Walden during the summer before my junior year because it was on the American Literature reading list and because I had desired to read it for some time. I was the only person in my Am Lit class who voluntarily read Walden. I can't say I wasn't proud of myself. I have two quotes stored in my brain:

"The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation."

"However mean your life is, meet it and live it; do not shun it and call it hard names. It is not so bad as you are."

The second quote I've reflected upon many times. It is from the conclusion chapter. I'd like to call Thoreau a simplicisist, but that is definitely not a word. The meaning of it, though, is fundamental. Thoreau's words, lifestyle, and state of mind are simple but incredibly powerful and captivating.

written 29 October 2009

Snow Globe Living

In my snow globe life, the centerpiece is a breathtaking Japanese Cherry Blossom tree in the prime of its bloom. Small white flowers, dozens and dozens of them. White with pink middles. The bark is dark brown, and the trunk and branches are thin. It is a beautiful scene.

Surrounding the Cherry Blossom, open books rest on the ground. Some are in piles, others are solitary. These are the book of my past and present. Children's books, teen fiction, the classics, my autobiography. They tell the story of my life thus far. They are the blank books of my future, ready to be filled.

Go ahead. Pick up my life and shake it.

Little crescent moons float and swirl around the tree and fall upon the open books. The little moons are silver and blue with little smiling faces.

entry: 7 October 2009

Gypsy Tales

"There was always been this memory in my head. It couldn't have happened in my current lifetime; it must be a memory from a past life. I will tell it to you now. Try not to be frightened. But do forgive me, children, my memory is not what it used to be."

The old woman sat in the rocking chair with an afghan throw covering her lap and legs. The three little children, two girls and a boy, set cross-legged in front of her, admiring the blanket and listening in awe. the woman began her story.

"The surrounding buildings look like Grecian architecture. All of the stone columns and ivy growing up the sides. It was a very pretty place full of green grass and hedge gardens. There was also a pond in the garden with strangely large fish. I was not alone in this place. There were a dozen other little girls like me. Yes, I am your age in this memory. Each little girl was paired with a witch. It was a magical place, but these were nice witches, not like the wicked witch of the west. All the witches were wearing the traditional black pointy hat and swooping cape.

"My witch and I flew kites and fished in the pond with the other little girls and their witches. I believe I had a balloon and carried it with me the whole day.

"I must have let go of my balloon on accident because it got stuck in one of the big garden hedges. Oh, wait a minute. Was it my balloon or was it my kite? The details are fuzzy. Anyways, my witch went into the hedge to retrieve my balloon, but she got stuck and died right there. I didn't know what to do. I was only a little girl. All the other witches were angry and blamed me for my witch's death. I felt very confused and alone. No one listened when I tried to tell them it wasn't my fault!"

The story ended and the children looked bewildered. The old woman sat back in her rocker, please that another of her gypsy stories satisfied the young ones for the evening. They went off to sleep without another peep. The old gypsy woman say with her afghan in her chair and smiled.

The gypsy woman's story is a dream I had when I was four years old. The dream is permanently stained in my memory. I can still see the images and little details in my brain.

entry: 6 October 2009

My Life in Flames: A Dream

note: this is the fourth very vivid dream I've had about Billie Joe Armstrong/Green Day. In these dreams, Billie Joe is there in person and there is interaction between us always.

I was waiting outside my house with my friend Catherine. There was no indication of what we were waiting for. Billie Joe showed up in a van. I twas Billie Joe himself, but he was more of a teenager, like in the Dookie days. Catherine took lots of pictures of us.

The next scene, Catherine was gone. Billie Joe was still in my house but not with me - I could still feel his presence. I was awoken from my sleep by a very loud crack. My windows were open, and the noise came from outside. I got up to look out my window. I saw the house at the end corner of the street. It was summer, but there were Christmas lights on one of the hedges in front of the house. The loud crack was the sound of one of the light bulbs breaking.
The hedge caught fire from the electricity.

The fire was small, but soon the whole house was burning. Somehow the fire traveled in a line, like gunpowder or gasoline in a movie, up the street to my house. I was trying to tell my mom our house was on fire. She wasn't listening. The fire was getting closer as I stared out my window. I was so scared.

All of a sudden, my mom yelled for us to get out of the house. Everyone went outside quickly, but I was frantically gathering stuff in my room that I wanted to keep safe. The most important thin was my American Idiot CD. I grabbed it and ran outside. I was screaming because I didn't want my room to be burned and ruined.

By this point, our whole house was on fire. Billie Joe was outside with us. He was trying to hold me back and calm me down. I was shaking with anger and screaming and crying. I think I was blaming my mom for not listening to me and letting this happen.

entry: 2 October 2009

What Am I Inspired By?

people who have a lot of self-motivation. that is one thing I am severely lacking.

the color green. it is bright and beautiful and full of life. trees are green, and trees are wonderful.

dancers. "are we human or are we dancers?" - the killers. I always sit in awe at my friends' dance recitals. watching the difficult steps being performed with ease. I know the work it took to get to that point, and I appreciate the talent.

Jackson Pollock. american artist. creator of some of the most beautiful, mysterious art I've ever seen. splatter paint. mixed colors. dramatic canvases.

the moon holds me captive.

Billie Joe Armstrong. his past, where he came from, how he got here. No one knows Green Day like I know Green Day, at least no one I've met so far.

Fairies. fantastical creatures. delicate and cunning. you had better watch your back.

the month of October inspires me. all things to do with autumn inspire me. pumpkins and folklore. transformations. change.

Hairstyles of the Damned. Joe Meno. the best young adult fiction novel I have ever read.

the vastness of space. We, as humans, do not and will never comprehend how infinitesimal we are on our planet Earth.

the voice of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. to know what peace is about...

flowers. a vague statement, but there are so many flowers in so many situations that I cannot possibly narrow it down to one phrase. just the word.

confident smiles. not the egotistical "I'm better than you" smiles. the ones on the faces of

the Rocky Mountains. Mt. Evans. Colorado. breathing cool, clean air. feeling on top of the world. literally being on top of the world.

entry: 28 September 2009

Lucid Dreams

The following is the scariest dream I've had that I can remember. I rarely have nightmares, so this was quite frightening.

In my dream, I woke up suddenly. I have a fountain-type thing that mists and changes colors from red, purple, blue. When I woke, it was giving off a purple light but wasn't misting.

My blinds were up - they are usually down when I sleep because my bedroom windows face the street, and I don't want anyone to be able to watch me sleep.

There was a man outside my window, but his hand was someone through the glass of the window, which was closed, and he was playing with the beads hanging in the front of the window.

I was extremely scared, and I yelled at him to go away.

I don't know if I went back to sleep or if I just closed my eyes.

For the second time, I woke up suddenly. I got out of my bed and opened my bedroom door. There was a purple light, similar to the one from the misting thing, coming from down the hallway.

The man was sitting right outside my door. His face and his body were in a shadow, so I didn't know who he was. He was holding a flashlight.

I called loudly for my mom and yelled at him again to go away. My screams were desperate, and I felt like I was sobbing. I wasn't crying, but I was terrified.

My mom came out of her room, but the man was gone.

Even as I write, that horrible feeling of terror is still inside of me. I've never been that scared from a dream, besides perhaps when I was a child.

However terrifying this dream was, the experience of a lucid (waking) dream is one I'll never forget. The feeling of actually being awake in a dream was so bizarre. I hope to have another one somewhere in the future.

Entry: 24 September 2009

bananaberries.

Think of a person, someone you know or not, and write about what you think they dream about. These are the dreams of my beloved and insane sister.

Dream One:

Two apples, one orange, and five bazillion bananas.

Each fruit beings to peal itself like a boxer takes off his robe, ready to fight.

Barely audible, someone is singing what sounds like "We Are the Champions."

Shelbi and Carla stumble into the scene. One of the bananas screams at them because they are laughing too loudly.


Dream Two:

My sister is driving me around. We are going to Target like we usually do.

Now I am driving the car. I don't know how this happened. I somehow know how to drive. We are no longer going to Target. We are going to puck up my mom from the airport. she is coming home from London.

I'm in the airport by myself now. I don't know where everyone else went. Mon and Sissy were just right here. I'm getting dizzy because I'm turning around in circles. I don't remember where we parked the car.


Dream Three:

In reality: my sister came in here ten minutes ago and woke me up.

In my dream: All my clothes were already laid out on y bed. I grabbed my socks and unfolded them. I tried to find my foot, but it was very difficult for some reason. My first sock is finally on my foot. Now where did my other one go? Oh, here it is. I'm sitting on it. I don't want to get up. I'm so comfy. I think I'll just change shirts under my covers. There my shirt is on and I'm already halfway finished getting dressed.

In reality: I actually didn't wake up. My sister came back ten minutes later, called me an idiot, and told me to get up again. I was lying there still in my pajamas.

entry: 17 September 2009

Nana's Story

She touched the little box in her pocket and smiled. The box was filled with little sugary candies, the kind her nana used to give her. The box was made of tin worn down by frequent use. Inside the lid was a picture of her nana. She was alone now, so she clutched the little box and slid it out of her pocket. She squeezed the side a little to open the lit. The tiny photograph of her nana looked at her with a warm smile. Her nana was a beautiful lady. The expression in her eyes was so inviting as if to say, "Lilly, darling, take a candy." Lilly took a candy, unwrapped it from it's colored plastic, and put it into her mouth.



entry: 9 september 2009

dustland fairytale.

Two of my loves are Robin Hood and Peter Pan. There is just something about their characters that fascinates me. The only thing is that the Disney figures are pictured in my mind. I'm not sure if that is a good or a bad thing seeing hos Disney has a tendency to alter the truth about a lot of subjects.

If I were to choose between the love interests of these two gentlemen, I would definitely choose Maid Marian over Wendy. Maid Marian is more classy and mature. I've never been a fan of Wendy. STOP WHINING. You don't get all of Peter's attention all of the time.

Me as Maid Marian with my gallant love, Robin Hood. That's a nice picture. We would be foxes too, just like in the Disney movie. However, this is not a sexual fantasy. That's just weird.

So why is it that I think so highly of Robin Hood and Peter Pan?

The valor and bravery
They exude. Fight for
The good of innocence.

The history and folklore behind Robin Hood's tale also fascinates me.

"Appox on the Phony King of England!"

Was Robin Hood a good guy or a bad guy?

Does Peter Pan really need to grow up?

They both just do what they think is best.

"Robin Hood and Little John
Walking through the forest
Laughin back an' forth
At what they other'ne had to say
Reminiscin' this-n-thattin
Havin such a good time
Oh-de-lally, Oh-de-lally
Golly, what a day"



entry: 8 september 2009

pumpkin jack.

On this night of all hallows' eve, the earth transforms. The dead are once again alive.

It is about this time of year, the beginning of September, that my anticipation for Halloween begins. This holiday has always been my favorite. Halloween is the climax of the fall season. The golden, red, and brown leaves litter the earth, leaving the trees bare and life-less. The breeze is cool, and I need a jacket when I go out. the sky seems not so bright like it did during the summer. Life is changing.

On the first of the wonderful month of October, I am allowed to put up our Halloween decorations, well, the pumpkins at least. I always have a mind to put the decorations up when the weather becomes cooler in September, but my mom just calls me ridiculous.

We have some of the best decorations. First of all, they are stored in this antique, big, black trunk in our basement. My mom has had the trunk for a very long time. It has an incredibly distinct smell that always makes me happy inside because the smell means - IT'S HALLOWEEN! It's a stale smell, like most old artifacts, only there is a tinge of sweet also. The black trunk is split into layers, separated a removable shelf. Place mats, witch cloaks, and orange light bulbs are on the removable shelf. Beneath are the sacred ceramic pumpkins. My mom has been collecting ceramic pumpkins since before I was born. We have one pumpkin with a black top hat that is over 50 years old. DO NOT DROP THIS - always the warning when handling the pumpkin. It is my duty to arrange the ceramic pumpkins with the bale of straw on our front porch. Well, it's more like I don't let anyone else do it because I like it so much.

My family has other Halloween traditions besides the ceramic pumpkins. Every year we carve our own jack-o-lanterns. With our kitchen floor covered in newspapers, we scoop the guts our and saw faces into the pumpkins. Halloween is also my sister's birthday. We eat cake and celebrate before going out for the night.

Ah, Halloween is just so wonderful. So many of these memories and images come to mind, and I just smile with content.


entry: 3 september 2009

Live in the Shadow of a Dozen Roses

Make a list of places where writing hides for you. Be specific.

- ginger pumpkin scented candles

- a good hug (you know, one of those you receive from a best friend you haven't seen in two years...coughAARONcough)

- inside jokes about bananas (a reoccurring motif in the lives of my sister and me)
- the moon and the stars

- music. all different types. right now I'm pretty sure it's The Beatles.

- my dreams. this is an important one. I keep a dream journal if that tells you anything.

- the smell of incense. fizzy pop incense. from sunshine day dream imports. the hippie store. where I bought my purse/bag. it's wonderful there.

- the vibrant color of green plants beneath flowing water. the picture I took at Trout Lodge comes to mind.

- the abstract, splatter-technique paintings of Jackson Pollock.

- the smell of autumn. of halloween. brisk, dry air. the trunk of decorations in our basement. carving pumpkins into jack-o-lanterns. all of these smells.

- the shape, color, texture of blown glass. actually seeing being crafted. the awe of a child in Hannibal.

- mysterious fairy rings, made of mushrooms and darkened grass, appearing in my front yard.

- Henry David Thoreau. I read Walden last summer and was delighted by the experience. I came across quite a few phrases that struck me. I wrote them down. One is, "The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation."

- In the place of beige ceramic tiles, pomegranate mango soap suds, and skin hydration. the shower.


entry: 31 august 2009

the sense of sound.

Begin: 8:43 pm.

My iTunes is playing a Genius playlist of alternative and punk music. "Means + Ways" by Snow Patrol just finished playing. Now "Your New Twin Sized Bed" by Death Cab For Cutie begins.

My laptop hums. It's the fan. Sometimes it's louder, but now it is soft.

Parent voice is on the phone downstairs. I can't clearly hear anything being said. The voice sounds like one of those annoying bumble bees that buzzes past your ear during a picnic in the summer.

The dog growled. He's downstairs also. He was probably playing.

"Sam's Town" by The Killers just began on my iTunes.

My computer makes another sound. It's the sound of the hard drive relaying information back and forth. The sound is fairly constant, but when it stops, I notice.

My desk chair squeaks every time I lead back too far. Right now the sound is not that alarming, but when I'm up late finishing my homework and the house is quiet, the squeak seems ten times louder.

"You're All I Have" by Snow Patrol is playing.

My windows are open. My sister just got dropped off. "See you tomorrow!" The car door slams shut. Metal against metal racket of the garage door opening. The garage down goes back down, the door to the house swings shut. My sister's footsteps are coming down the hall, most likely to my room.

"Today" by Smashing Pumpkins.

My windows are open. There are SO many bugs. One makes a clicking sound: click...click...click click click click click. Another sound goes on and on. A string of low chirping. The last distinct sound is definitely that of a cricket. The noise is higher-pitched than the rest and in an on and off constant pattern.

The air conditioning is on now. the cool air blows through the two vents in my room.

End: 9:15 pm.


entry: 16 september 2009

the SILENCE says it all.

The Silence says it all. Respect. Patience. Understanding. Hate. Defiance. Ignorance.

Silence is powerful in a word that always speaks and always has an opinion. To refrain from speaking shows self-control.

Silence is awkward. Silence is bold.

Silence is golden - What does that even mean? What a cliche. Pathetic people use cliches.

Silence is Terrifying. Yelling for help and only silence in responce is the worst feeling in the worod. The Silence means that you are along. There is no one to save you.

Silence is suspenceful. Walking down a dark hallway at night when everyone else is asleep - something is going to jump out of the darkness and harm you. I live for the suspence in horror films. My heart beating fast, I don't know what's coming. Silence heightens the moent. You can't heare what's coming.

BAM! Breaking the Silence is cause for a heart attack.

Breaking the Silence usually means restoring comfort. From an awkward moment. From a cry for help.

When a baby falls asleep. The Silence is peaceful. The mother can rest now.

In Silence of the modern world and humnity, the sounds of nature can be heard clearly.

You can get lost in the Silence.

Overwhelming feeling comes to your ears when they have to really listen if any sound is there. A certain pressure pushes on the ears. It feels different.

Close your eyes, you can heart so much more. Open your eyes. Your world is still there.

A smile in Silence is still a smile. There is no need for sound to convey a sign of content.

Silence is sleep.


entry: 11 September 2009.

Commentary

ink blots and peppered pottery.
the way I wish I was is gone.

chalk and bones chalk and bones
dead as a doornail on tuesday.

skeletal fractures, limp limbs.
sing songs, Aida's soundtrack
a verse.

scrape clump clump, scrape clump clump
my dead sister moves down the hall

the fat kid with the glasses.
yeah, he's got a stutter
and he likes to sing.

two turtle doves
and a piece of pumpernickel bread.
toasted and delicious.

crinkle, crinkle, crinkle, dust.
fallen leaves left discarded

macaroni and marmalade for supper
children would rather eat beets.

iron and oil
her majesty, the royal

hula hoops and paper mache
I fancy this party isn't so bad
my cup is full of kool aid.
and kool aid is for the cool kids.

the ceiling fan is silent
the tree branches are not
wind moves forever and always.

Elton John is the mood
Lion King is the tune now
Aida is over.

crystal balls and beauty
no, no take that back
those things aren't real

glitter, glue, and Mozart.
colorful fantasies in D minor

I wish I were an elephant
I wish I were a snail
Nevermind, my time for wishing has passed.

I'm not a child anymore.
There is no more time for nonsense.


entry: 10 september 2009.

p.s.

i'm taking creative writing this semester. part of the class is having a journal and writing in it every night. i've accumulated quite a few interesting entries. i think i'm eventually going to type my whole journal on here. that should be fun.

i know bo. fo sho.

B.O. LINGERS AND IT MAKES YOU THINK.

I MET BO BURNHAM ON SATURDAY!!
i mean, not to gloat or anything...

here's the story. i've been a fan of his for a little over a year now. i bought his cd from target the weekend it came out. i can sing "new math" by heart, and i've spent countless hours watching his videos, videos of him, videos about him, etc on youtube. not to mention all the other general stalking i've done all over the internet.

i'm so freaking proud of this kid. he's nineteen years old. and he has guts [that sounds like something cliche a critic would say]. well then scratch the "he has guts" part.
here is why i love bo burnham: he is so real. seeing his show and watching his videos, he is the same. that is a good thing. only the show was much better because i was there in the room with him :D

the show was at the Pageant, which i'd never been to before. the inside is really small and intimate. it was cool. i went with my best friend ashley. she was somewhat new to bo but still a big fan. after the show, we stood in line to meet him. while waiting, i noticed that no one was giving him hugs. what the heck people?! why wouldn't you want to hug bo burnham?! i DEFINITELY hugged him when it was my turn to say hi. yeah, did you hear me? I HUGGED BO BURNHAM. it was fantastic.

a little aside from bo...
i've had a youtube account for eight months but haven't really done anything with it. i recently uploaded my two videos from waiting in line to meet bo burnham. i really wanted to upload some more, so i found one of my sister being goofy and another one from a night at trout lodge two summers ago. uploading videos is satisfying something inside of me that i didn't know existed. now i have the urge to make more videos. i want to see the number of views. i want comments. it's addictive. BO, I UNDERSTAND YOU.

27. olie. and truck.

i haven't had a good time in a long time. saturday. september 5th. was a good time. we did not plan anything spectacular, but our night turned into one of the best. it was EPIC. you know, driving around sketchville st. louis trying to find one particular schuncks. having a gps but still being lost. hanging out with someone you were friends with and are now best friends with. boy bonding. kodak moments. making everyone else feel jealous that they didn't have as great of a night as you did. sharpie tattoos. stars. ooh and another row of stars. giggles. the perfect hugs. the ones where you run and jump and the other person catches you.

going to sleep with the biggest smile on your face. waking up with that same smile. the realization that you are living life and having a splendid time with it all.