Hoodie Allen - You Are Not a Robot

"You've been acting awful tough lately
Smoking a lot of cigarettes lately
But inside, you're just a little baby"

Note to Self

Buy:
-Polaroid Camera
-Nook Color
Books for Nook:
-Bossypants, Tina Fey
-Almost Like Being in Love, Steve Kluger
-Other books I can't think of at the moment.
Pierce:
-Eyebrow
Tattoo:
-Somewhere on forearm, not sure of what.

My materialistic list of items I need to purchase before or during college. If you gotten this far through, I'll explain it now. For the past few months I have been attaching myself to materialistic items because substantial things like love and family have failed me. I know my longing for electronics and piercings are useless, but in a crazy way, possibly only known to myself, it numbs the pain. 

Scratched Vinyl

I can't remember the days when fighting and screaming was taboo. I can't remember the days when we used to be a family. I can't remember what it's like to be happy. The house is so quiet now. If we're lucky, we'll have a fight and the silence will break. This place used to be my sanctuary, a place I can call my own. Now it has been robbed from us like everything else. Was is so wrong to be able to be happy? Just because she had nothing, doesn't mean she had to reduce us to her level. This isn't right. Deliver me from this pain, wash away my sins, bring us back to time before all this. Oh there goes my asinine beliefs again. How can I be so foolish to believe we can reverse these dismal effects? How can you be so foolish to believe our problems are resolvable. 

Petty Burns

When we kissed, the taste of burned ashes mingled in my mouth. I'll never forget that flavor. It's never quite the same when I pick up those cigarettes you used to smoke. When we kissed, it had a nice slow burn taste, with a hint of sharp hope and a dash of sweetness. But when I smoke all I savor is tobacco. Do you remember my first cigarette? I do. You lit the tip and I watched as the fire slowly crept closer and closer to my unsuspecting lips. I was startled and the cigarette flew effortlessly from my mouth to my arm. It barely singed the flesh, but left an uncanny mark. I watched as the panic flooded your face and the pain on my arm set in. You promised me never again. Never again. I still taste the burned ashes in my mouth when I look at my scar, but this time it's mixed with a new flavor. Something along the lines of longing.

Full Moon

Nights like these when the moon is full and at it's peak, shining with a melancholic radiance, I think of you. What's it like over there? Sometimes I forget about you and feel guilty, it isn't right you know? Forgetting about someone. I take great comfort in knowing that we are under the same moon. And when I'm looking up at that big, bright, pure mass of rock floating in the night sky, I can't help but wonder if you're looking too. I suppose this is a great time to tell you I've fallen for this guy down the street, but he's far too old for me. I'm sure he thinks I'm crazy now because I stood in the driveway for about five minutes just staring at the full moon. Oh he saw me alright. He's garage was open and he was walking in and out, so the chances are high that he saw an Asian fool looking up at the moon searching for answers. The moon to you is probably different. It's probably more beautiful, sprinkled with craters and surrounded by glistening stars. Lighting the sidewalk of a quiet city. It's more beautiful, isn't it? Not a touch of sadness. Goodnight guy from down the street. Goodnight moon. And goodnight old friend.

Amy Winehouse - Back to Black

AMY COME BAAACCCKKK!

Lucas

I could have sworn I was awake when we were looking at the clouds float by. We were aimlessly discussing how they were taking the form of giraffes and turtles and blobs. You pointed at a cloud off to my left and I concentrated hard as you insisted it looked like an elephant. That's when you kissed my cheek for the first time. My first kiss, stolen from me, while watching clouds. Funny isn't it? I didn't know what to do, but smile and we continued as if nothing happened. Then the scenery quickly morphed into an elevator and as I darted for the numbers pushing all that I could, I felt that this world was real and being with you was natural. You and I, along with a few others were trapped in that elevator for awhile but it released us into yet another scene. A mall this time. I saw my friends and walked over to them, there was a slight breeze and I remember was feeling cold, suddenly I had a sweater in hand and was about to slip it on when you rubbed my back and held me close. With your arms around me keeping me warm, I couldn't help but smile. The last thing and probably the most distressing, was that you received a phone call. You told me to go on ahead and you'll meet me soon, without a second thought I greeted my friends and there you were in the background, quietly talking on the phone and sneaking a smile or two every glance I gave you. I wish it could have lasted longer. Good bye, Lucas.

Fallulah - Give Us A Little Love

"Give us a little love, give us a little love. We never had enough, we never had enough."

Where Are You?

These hands, these rough, shaking hands were always there for you when you fell. These battered arms, these tattooed and heavy arms were always here to hold you. My legs are giving way and my body is slowly collapsing. Where are you now? Where is your chest? The very chest I could rest my weary head upon. The soft thump, thump, thump washing me ashore to the beaches of sleep. Where is your back? The back I have gotten used to keeping warm. The back whose spine appeared to be the ivory keys on a piano running perfectly down the center. Where is that warm smile? The one that imprisoned me? The same smile that would burn through my darkest nights. Where are you? I need you now more than ever.

Happily Ever After

I think it's time I got my happily ever after. To be able to walk away unscathed and my heart in tact. Never again will I have to visit the brink of madness, endure the sleepless nights of a broken heart, and to have the endless flow of warm tears burning at my cheeks. I suppose it's fair. We're equal now, you begging for my love, proclaiming your undying affection, and your false promises. I've been through it all, I know all the schemes and tricks, I know how it hurts. Listen to the heavy roar of the engine, the slow crunching gravel and quiet hum of loneliness. And understand that. This. Is. The. End.

Trigger

Pull the trigger. I don't really care if it was a slip of the finger or fully intentional. Just pull the trigger. Fast. I'm done with waiting. The bullet is eager to fly, don't resist. The silence is killing us. We both long to hear the loving, BANG! BANG! BANG! Straight through my heart. All I ask is make it quick and painless. Oh yes! Don't forget to screw in the silencer, I'm perfectly sure you don't want the neighbors calling the cops. I can just see it now, the small metal lug, jetting out from it's cold metal cage, assisting me to my damp, cold metal grave. Not to fret! The clean up isn't a hassle, mostly wires and screws and broken plastic. You can carry on once you pull that trigger.

Is It Lonely There?

Is it lonely there? All the way at the top. Where there was once love and admiration, a trail of hatred and disapproval now lay wake. Is this what you wanted? To be viewed by the world indiscriminately and fully. To be noticed. Is it what you dreamed it would be? I didn't think so. You miss the days when you were a nobody, don't you? I do too. But maybe it's for the best. 

"Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing." - Sylvia Plath

These words have haunted me for extended periods of time. I do believe I am on the verge of not wanting anything from anyone. And it scares me. The vast unknown. The uncharted abyss. The quiet darkness.

Pray With Me?

 Father died when I was young, I never really knew him. Mother did her best to raise me and every night she would join me at the foot of my bed and ask me to pray with her. To pray for the soul of my father, may he rest in peace. I always thought if I prayed, if I prayed hard enough, long enough it would somehow bring my father back. It would make my mother's tears cease, and it would bring end to maddening silence at the dinner table. It's funny, you know, my mother and I believed praying would solve our problems but it was only false hope. How can a person believe in such nonsense? As the years gone by, my mother visited me less and less every night until we stopped praying altogether. I suppose we grew up in a sense. The death of her husband, my father, awoke our dormant minds. The very minds closed off to the horrors of the world. Now that we have seen what has been needed to be seen I wish I could take it all back, all those prayer-less nights, that is. Sometimes praying is all a person can do to survive. Hoping, wishing that tomorrow would be better than today.

It Was Only a Kiss

We were both drunk with sorrow. We were just not thinking that's all, just not thinking. It wasn't romantic or beautiful, it was sad. I had nothing left to say, and you had everything to talk about. We spilled out our knowledge of the world around us. It was almost two in the morning when we were done. Just sitting there, not thinking. Our lives intertwined in a matter a few hours. We lived under the same moon for our whole lives, living our whole lives, without knowing each other. Until that night. We're were two strangers, just sitting there, not thinking. I remember how handsome you looked that night, freshly cut beard and a smile that could stop anyone in their tracks. But there was an underlying sadness to your eyes. Something about them that was offbeat, like a ballerina without her Franz Schubert. The kiss was long and awkward. Both us not wanting it to end. To persevere this momentary bliss, never allowing the treachery of the world to taint this pure and selfless act. The kiss between two strangers, just sitting, not thinking. It was a long, sad kiss. It was almost as if we were searching for the truth in each others' lips. We were both exhausted and condemned by society. When all was over, I just laid there, in bed, adsorbing, processing. And you burnt out like a rundown motel's light bulb. This was the first time I ever kissed a man. This was the first time everything fell into place, everything was innocent again. Everything was going to be fine.

I Once Dreamt. . .

I once dreamt I fell in love with you. The darkness of sleep fading into bright reds and oranges and yellows. The scenery pouring in with large oak trees and benches and grass. It's been going on for months now, us sitting on a bench like an old couple. Your deep red lipstick burning the fairness of your ivory skin and big brown eyes. My hands softly caressing each and every bit of your small tender hands. So softly as if these fragile limps would fall off any minute. The way your dress would flow with the warm summer breeze kept me in a trance and your smile delivered the final blow. The fatal ending. I knew I couldn't be with you. I knew it wasn't true. But something kept me arrested in your presence. Something about your sandy blonde hair. Something about your laugh. Something about. About. About. There came a violent jolt and the surrounding buildings collapsed into rumble. The ground split and swallowed the trees and the fountain and the benches. The air was filled with a hideous siren as pedestrians attempted to defy their dismal fates. And there you stood with an eerie calmness across your enigmatic face. Not one shred of remorse just calmness as the earth pulled me away from you. Into the dirt and slowly back into the darkness.   

One Day

One day when all the screaming and fighting is over, you'll miss me. One day when I'm long gone, you'll realize that I was all you had. One day when everything is all done and said, you will know the truth. I done with being the second choice, the misfit, the bad guy, the instigator. The scapegoat. Everything I did was for you and you and you, but you're so caught up with your nonsense you can't even see the good I've done. Open your eyes, see the damage you both have created. And now understand that there is no way of fixing this, there is no way of fixing me, and there is no way we'll be back to where we once were.

THAT'S RIGHT SON!! I'M A STAR!!!

"Stupid America" - Abelardo Delgado

Stupid America

Stupid American, see that Chicano with a big knife in his steady hand
He doesn't want to knife you
He wants to sit on a bench and carve Christ figures
but you won't let him.

Stupid America, hear that Chicano shouting curses on the street
He is a poet without paper and pencil and since he cannot write
He will explode.

Stupid America, remember that Chicanito flunking math and English
He is a Picasso of your western states
but he will die with one thousand masterpieces
hanging only from his mind.

Strangers in the Night

Do you remember how we met? It was exactly like Sinatra's "Strangers in the Night". I was out for an evening walk to clear my mind and you happened to be doing the same. I always thought of what would have become of us if we never met. If I never occupied the other end of the bench and if you never offered me a bedtime story. If you never invited me for a glass of gin and tonic and if I have never passed out on your couch. Things would have been desolate without you, just like this battlefield. This may be a foolish question, but have you ever had a chance to go out and see the stars? Have you had the chance to forget about me and this War and all the warnings? Have you had the chance to take those nightly walks again? It's silly to ask, I know. After all The Orderlies would not permit such a crime. I miss the times before The War. Before the poison of The War seeped into the minds of everyone. I hope to hear from you soon.

Stay safe my love,

           Anonymous

Suburban Nightmares

We're the kids your mother warned you about. We're the neighborhood boys who flirted with dangerous thoughts and the neighborhood girls who mingled with perilous dresses. Our battle scars are in the form of tattoos and piercings and our killer smiles. We're the kids whose fathers' beat us daily. We're the rascals whose mothers' are alcoholics. We're the survivors. Our art can be seen in the streets, our music in the depths of underground parties, our literature in the hands of Bradbury, Orwell, and Plath. Our struggle unites us and is projected in our actions. We fight against ignorance, we spread truth, we live. So please continue to immortalize us in your warnings. Speak of our names in hushed tones. And hate us because you will never understand our lifestyles. Our pain, tears, and motivation. But secretly love us because you admire our work.

Bang.

She reached for the gun in the bureau and with the slightest movement, the trigger was released. Before she could even realize the damage she has done, a burst of colors presented themselves. Dancing with the smoke. Lingering with the stench of burnt hope. The ringing in her ears settled as the pounding of her heart rested its weary contractions. The distinct odor of gunpowder and fear has gotten too strong to bear. Stinging her eyes and singeing her tear ducts. Never again she thought. Never again. Her body jolted and her surroundings faded into blackness. Then rebuilding itself blur by blur. The gun was still in the bureau, as she had left it, and the warm companion still tangled in the sheets next to her, as she had left him.

This is what I do all the time!!! I don't call it ice cream soup though, I think of it as a milkshake or an ice cream smoothie.

Don't be Afraid. . .

Don't be afraid of what I act like, be afraid of what I am capable of.

To: JG

You were brave in my eyes. You made me feel comfortable in my own skin. I was never afraid of sounding, looking, or acting gay when I was around you. I thought you felt the same. You were so strong in my eyes, so outgoing, and had the most admirable attitude towards your surroundings. What happened? Where have you gone? What happened to the J I knew. The J who wasn't afraid to hug me or kiss my knuckles in Biology. The J who played the guitar but really that wasn't too important because it really isn't true talent. Anyways, I missed you. What are you so scared of? You shouldn't hide behind countless women in attempts to cement your heterosexual facade. I believe you're the first guy to ever make me feel proud to be gay. You were brave for me, and now it's my turn to be brave for you. I know it's hard now, but it gets better, I promise. And right now you may think having a girlfriend will make those incessant thoughts about men burn away, but it doesn't. And if you ever contemplated suicide, it isn't worth it. Sure I will never know what you have been through, but then again you don't know what I have been through. And you will certainly never know how you helped me. So it's my turn now. If by some strange sequence of events brings you here, to this very letter, don't doubt that this is addressed to you, JG.

-SC

30 Seconds To Mars - Closer to the Edge

"Some people believe in God, I believe in music. Some people pray, I turn up the radio."

Dance the Night Away

I feel like dancing SO HARD that I'll forget my problems. I feel like dancing so hard that my friends will leave me. I feel like dancing so hard that a magical puff of smoke engulfs me as I get dangerously close to falling, only to transport me to a wonderland with other dancers. I want to dance to Ke$ha and Lady Gaga and Ciara. I want to dance to Ella Fitzgerald and Diana Ross and Frank Sinatra. I want to tango, spazz, and waltz my way across the dance floor, bedroom, or public area. I just want to dance until my back CRACKS and I need to take a rest then rise once more to keep shaking and moving and swaying. Right now, this very moment I could careless what you think, I had to deal with you guys my whole life. Fake friends, fatal mistakes, family problems, false identities. And enough is enough. Just let me dance! Then when all is done and the music dies, leave me alone. Let me crawl my way back home. Sneak through the back door and rip open those sheets then greedily snatch the pillows. Let me go to sleep in peace, just this once. No fighting, no tears, no complications. Only pure, unadulterated sleep.

I feel vulnerable. Who's going to protect me from the creaks of our apartment? Hurry back. i miss you awfully bad. I miss hearing you fingers swiftly punching each key on that old typewriter of yours. I miss everything. I'm afraid The the poison of The War is settling in my Bloodstream now. The fear and panic is seeping in. i wish I could take your place right now. If you died i don't know what i would do. remember those nights laying in bed when I tried to convience convince you not to join the War and you told me, "The world has enough writers. We need something substantial like artists. People like you." Oh what I would do just to have You by my side, to hear your voice again. Sometimes when I hear the planes swarming in the jet black night, thoughts of you plague my mind and keep me up for hours. Thinking if you're safe and if we'll ever see each other again. All I hear about on the news is The War. It scares me. Know that i will always love you.

With much Concern and love, Anonymous.

P.s. Sorry if there are some Mistakes in This Letter, the typewriter Is such a Hassle. i will never understand how you Are able to work with this Monster machine. 

Adele - Take It All

 

Adele's new album, 21, is so moving! I have never fully enjoyed a single album as much as I did with this one. Take It All is one of my favorites. Adele never fails to impress. 

The Outsiders?

Stay gold, Ponyboy. LOLOLOLOLOLOL!

Handle With Care

When the world is fast asleep and we're the only ones awake whispering under the sheets, contemplating blues and Motown, that's when I love you the most. Every time we take midnight walks around the city for inspiration or long drives to nowhere in particular, that's when I remember why I fallen in love with you. Whenever your forehead crinkles and your eyebrows furrow when you're sitting at your "studio" staring at a blank sketchbook, and I leaning forward quietly click, click, clicking away at my typewriter are the moments I enjoy most. It wasn't waking up early on Saturday mornings to make blueberry pancakes in our small kitchen that made my happy, it was being tangled in our small kitchen trying to our best to cook and you sneaking in little kisses every now and then. Our dreams were so much bigger than that small apartment and our love was. . .vast. What comes next will sound cliche but nevertheless true. You gave me company when everyone else left me. You were there when I was my weakest and stayed with me when I was at my peak. And you're probably laughing to yourself, thinking, "I can't believe he could be so cheesy!". But understand that this is real and everyday without you is an eternity. A lonely eternity filled with glory and power but no one to share it with.

                 
                   Love, Anonymous

To: Anonymous. From: Anonymous.

It isn't over until I say it is, so come back and wrap your arms around my body once more. Just tell me everything will be alright. I refuse to believe it's over. I still love you and I know you still love me too. It's almost been a month since you left and I am always tempted to call and ask you, "How's everything? Did you miss me?" or "Would you like to go and see a movie with me, like the good old times?". But I never had the nerve to. You were always complaining how I wasn't adventurous enough, I guess you're right. Thinking back you've done me so much wrong, was I truly in love with you, or just the idea of you? No, wait there it is again, the doubt that would find its way, time after time, back into my brain. I remember you told me you hated how I was indecisive. But you always knew how to make me smile and laugh and, and, and. Life just seems so dull without you by my side. The stars seem a bit dimmer, the nights a bit colder, my bed a bit emptier. So if you're reading this now don't bother calling me. Don't bother trying to ease your way back into my heart. Don't bother. I've moved on and it's time you did as well.

Good Bye Anonymous,
                  Sincerely Anonymous

If your man starts freaking out like this while doing his laundry, you know it's time to nip it in the bud.

Oh god! If only I had the opportunity to make a "blanket" for Arthur Sales and present to him, only to kidnap him, my life would be complete.

I've been seeing a whole bunch of pictures like this floating around Tumblr. Disney characters transformed into paranoid/hardcore figures. Strange yet intriguing. I kind of wished I thought of this.

Sorry for the profanity. But it's true.

I Promise. Someday.

In a world full of deception and lies there is something I am certain of. And it's that your smile seems to just melt my troubles away. The only problem is I haven't met you yet. But Someday. I promise myself, someday I will find you and everything will fall into place. For now, the thought of you is enough to help me scrape by.

Respect?

This is my final plea, my final cry for salvation. My family has deserted me, I realized my friends were nothing but pawns and I have begun the slow descent into solitary madness. My mother's swift Cantonese hit me hard. In a quick snarl she was able to strike me with a million daggers and all I heard was, "No matter how educated you are, if you don't respect your parents, you are useless." Respect? Respect is what she asked for! After forcing myself into sciences and rigorous curriculum just to please them, to fill their mold of what they wanted me to be, they'll turn their backs on me and render me useless? After the countless nights I wished them safe trips and wished them a good night they would snap back at my pleas for company, my longing to be desired? My friends are no better, I assert my presence and speak my opinion only to be ignored and rejected. I have no where else to turn to, but I won't go. I willing to take the risks. If it means getting my feelings across, I am willing to take a million more daggers to the heart. If it means another one of my bridges will crackle and pop under the flames of unconventional thinking, I will do it again. Just know that when I'm long gone that what I did was out of love and the fear that I will loose it all.

I Need a Doctor - Dr. Dre

"I'm about to lose my mind
You've been gone for so long
I'm running out of time
I need a doctor
Call me a doctor
I need a doctor, doctor
To bring me back to life"

Etta James - Sunday Kind Of Love

"And my arms need someone to hold, someone to enfold. To keep me warm when Mondays and Tuesdays grow cold."

Self Diagnosed Illnesses

I've never contemplated suicide, but there are times when I feel like my sadness is too much to bear and it certainly must be depression. I'm always distracted to the point where I consider I may have ADHD, but never to the point where I require medication to function. My moods are like a roller coaster, one second I'm so happy I could vomit rainbows and suddenly summon unicorns, and the next moment I'm burning with anger. But I don't think it's too severe to be diagnosed as bipolar disorder. There are times when I can't sleep for hours, but not on daily basis, so it mustn't be insomnia. And for far too many times I have believed I truly lost my mind. This is the price I pay for creative genius. My mind is a treacherous wonderland. But nevertheless, I never cease to be beguiled by my dear brain, my one and only friend.

Tacos

If I ever become a parent and my family goes out to get tacos and my child isn't cooperating, it will probably go down like this:
Me: Eat your taco. 
Child: No. I'm not hungry.
Me: YOU SAID YOU WANTED TACOS!! *Angrily gestures at tacos.
Devil Child: But I don't want tacos anymooooooooorrreee.
Me: Shut your head hole. Eat your tacos and be happy. 
Offspring: Wha-
Me: *A mix between a "Don't Question Me" and a "Don't Make Me Laugh" look.
Child: *Suppressed laughter with leaks of giggles.


And this is where I get ghetto fabulous on my child.


Me: I told you to eat dat taco son! NOW YOU GO EAT DAT TACO AND BE HAPPY, ALRIGHT?
My Silly Bag Of Sunshine: . . .
Me: Girl I told you not to look at me like that.
The Kid Living In My House: *Laughs
Me: *Laughs

And then my child would eat the taco and we'll be all good. Awesome parenting skills right there!

"Too many young folk have an addiction to superficial things and not enough conviction for substantial things like justice, truth and love." -Cornel West

Alphabeat - DJ (I Could Be Dancing)

"I need something I can turn to,
Now and then, take me out, out now,
On and on, I need something I can turn to,
Something I can count in,
Day and night, on and on, like a record now,
Out now, I need something I can dance to."

"The Places We Should Have Gone"

Don't let anyone stand in your way toward the path of happiness. If it makes you happy, do it. Don't change your mind because someone asked you to. If you think you're going to regret something, instead of straying away from it, go for it. Second chances don't exist. Things change. Nothing remains the same.

Not too long ago, I was innocent. But now it's been robbed from me like all the good things in life. I suppose I must lose everything before I can start cultivating my new life. Before I can finally define my aesthetics. Who knew self discovery could hurt so much?

Kiss Me

Facsimile

Disappearing doesn't sound like a bad idea at the moment. Leaving mystery and intrigue surrounding my disappearance. It doesn't sound bad at all. No one would notice, well not the first few days. I used to be original, unique and useful. Now I'm just a burden, a mere facsimile. An ersatz, even. They already found a replacement, everything identical down to the very core. Except for my ideal difference, my substitute isn't emotionally unstable. I suppose you can say he's more refine. Simple minded. I challenged the world around, he accepts it. They couldn't take it anymore, so here I am. Invisible. The strings still pull at my false smile, and raise my arms. They still control my movement and the tips of my finger. But they have failed at making them love me. Need me. Want me. After all I'm a disposable facsimile.

"I lean to you, numb as a fossil. Tell me I'm here." -Sylvia Plath

Shades of Grey

I loved you so very much. I cherished every moment we spent together. The time you feel asleep on my chest, the heave of each breath intake, like a slow lullaby drifting you away, away, away from me. Into a world inside your beautiful mind, that I could only partially understand. The strong scent of my eggs in the morning filling our small apartment, tangled in the kitchen while trying our best to cook. Your goofy smile I woke up to every morning accompanied by the delightfully tousled brown hair. The way you told me you enjoyed my sickly sweet scent, and how I remember your strong cologne lingering as if it had no where else to go but to bury itself on our couch and rooms. We were too much for the world to handle, and soon they grew envious pulling you away, away, away from me. We tried our best to maintain, we tried so hard. When you left, I began to drift back into the shades of grey. The abyss. Our apartment was a ghostly reminder of what we once had. I can still smell your cologne, but it's faint. However, I never got along to making eggs in the morning, always too busy. And sometimes when I'm alone, I shut my eyes and for a brief moment I am able to relive what we had.

Humpty Dumpty

How much effort would it take to put Humpty Dumpty back together again? A good few hours, days, weeks? Perhaps super glue and duct tape will work. But there is something that all the glue in the world could not piece back together again. His soul. His essence. His chi. His life force. His motivation. Or however you prefer to call the invisible clockwork inside everybody. The invisible force that propels us. Once that's broken, there's no returning back to the good ol' days. When this happens, something changes inside you. Something powerful in you starts to decline, your sense of superiority dwindles to an immeasurable amount. It's all of the world's horrible events wrapped into one convenient punch. The Holocaust, The Opium War along with The Arrow War, The Great Depression, WWI and WWII. All at once without a warning, without delay. My body has struggled to contain the endless pain, but it's slowly leaking through the cracks in my shell. How much effort would it take to put me back together again?

"The Fall"

"The Fall" are one of those films that never quite make it to the surface. A hidden gem. If you're going to watch the trailer stop watching around the one minute and thirty seconds mark. I feel it gives too much away at that point. "The Fall" wonderfully infuses love and betrayal with visually stunning scenes. But most importantly it portrays the significance of friendship and true love. I don't know how to really put it into words without spoiling it, so I highly suggest watching it.

Lottery Tickets

I used to hate the idea of my parents burning their money on lottery tickets. It was horrible! Dollar after dollar going toward a chance at making it big. But everyone knows it would never happen. Looking back and still watching my mother buy lottery tickets every now and then has shown me that it isn't the money that motivates us, instead it's the hope, the possibility that motivates us. The lottery gives people something to believe in. An escape from hard times, a possibility that one day we will get ourselves out of this mess. So I stopped trying to end my mother's love for lottery tickets. In a way it's a form of happiness to her, somewhere deep inside, she knows that we will never win the lotto, but it's the hope that we might win that keeps her going. 

Maybe, Just Maybe. . .

I don't think I can get through this anymore. Maybe I don't want to get through this. You let me down one too many times, you left me when I needed you the most. You gave up. Maybe, just maybe I enjoy the countless nights of laying in bed thinking, just thinking. I could never stop my tears from flowing. I could never keep you from leaving. Maybe I'm not scared anymore, maybe this is all temporary. You will never understand was I have been through. And maybe, just maybe it's time to let go.

Rest In Peace

My aunt died today, but I didn't really know her. But it's polite to respect the dead, so this post is going to be dedicated to her.

Ce Soir

You have been gone for so long. And tonight I will steal you back. Drunken with sleep, I will raise from my bed, hopelessly, vainly searching for you. You have been gone for far too long, I desperately need you. Desperately need to steal you back into my arms. My footsteps are almost mechanical, one foot right after the other. No, it won't be glorious and no, it won't be romantic, but I can assure you that it will be right. My eyes shift feverishly back and forth scanning the darkness for you. Yes, I may regret this and yes, you may be ashamed, but nobody ever said it would be easy. No matter how hard I search, the song remains the same. Hideous mockeries thrown themselves onto my path, but I know that they'll never come close to your deep brown eyes and jet black hair. I have grown weary of our dance and it seems as if my feet are betraying me. My soul is betraying me. Tonight I will steal you back, even for just a second.

Thoughts About Finals

I have never worried about mid terms and finals. Until now. I'm taking my Algebra II mid term tomorrow and this can make or break me. On the discussion about fear and grades, I couldn't help but think (And been influenced by Lily) that grades don't define my intelligence, my capabilities, or my life. All I hear my friends talk about is how good their grades are but to be frank, they're not as smart as their grades reveal them to be. I believe the only time a person is truly smart is when they are able to be creative. Whether it be in music, film, art, writing, I view the creative arts as what ultimately defines your intelligence. The creative art forces you to drop all preconceived notions of the surrounding world and urges you to think deeper. It truly is beautiful when a mind is worked to it's fullest potential through the creative arts.

Howl

Quite vulgar at times, but nonetheless interesting captivating! The film wonderfully ties censorship, expression and love into an hour and thirty minutes. One of the best movies I have seen this year! And can best be described as  a hidden gem. Looking forward to reading the book as well.

Life Goes On

The only time writers', musicians' and artists' professional life truly thrive is when their personal lives are in decline. This is what desire without hope feels like. It's almost like clockwork, the knot in your throat comes up when you know you're about to cry, the feeling of continuous treatments of shock therapy. The struggle a couple goes through while trying to preserve that last spark. This is what both notorious artists and amateurs go through daily just to produce a single piece of music or sketch. However, in our writing, our music, and our art we are able to reflect these pains, because we know that life goes on. Sure that knot will turn into full on tears, but crying is liberating. Sure the shock therapy will hurt, but we can think it will cure us. Sure our relationship is falling apart, but it will make room for new, better relationships. This is why we write, play, and draw even if it feels like all hope is lost, we have something to believe in. Something to reactivate our mechanical hearts. Something to let us know we're still alive.

You Only Live Twice

I don't know where to go from here. I've burned through all my options. All that I've worked for, all that we have worked for, gone. All gone. What now? I suppose I can run away and join the circus. Or perhaps I can learn how to pick pocket. Maybe change my name and live in a small town growing tomatoes? It seems as though I have one option left, to slowly, but surely rise from my ashes. I have already died, so what else do I have to lose? Once more I will be reborn into something new, something powerful, something great. I will continue to grow until I am far from what I am right now.

Desperation

For the past few weeks, months, and even years, I have been craving a male companionship. And I must say it's quite unhealthy. I'm so desperate to feel desired, to feel needed, and to feel loved, that this deep longing has blinded me. I look for salvation in other men, when I really should be looking within myself. It truly scares, my desperation that is, so much that I believe it will ultimately be my downfall.

What I Had Was Enough

I remember when I was kid I was never happy with the small apartment my family lived in, I was never happy with the cars we had, or the size of our television. I wish I knew what I know now, and that would be, what we had was enough. The times we had in that apartment, whether it be playing with the neighborhood kids, taking walks to the local convenience store, or running along creeks was enough for me. The magical places those dingy cars took us was enough. The television shows and countless movies we watched was enough. What really mattered was who was around the television, rather then the size of it. I wish I knew what I know now. What we had was enough. Now my family lives in a nice big home, and we have a large tele, and much more. But it seems as though we still rely on that small television tucked away in my room, or that run down van that still takes us to wherever we like. Everything was enough for my family and I.

Aging

Growing old is by far my greatest fear. I could never imagine myself in ten or thirty years. And it scares me. Aging is the most immense sin mankind can ever commit. It's almost like giving up on yourself, waking one day to find all those wrinkles, sags, and spidery veins draped all over your translucent skin. An epiphany in a way, never noticing the aches or fatigue or sadness. I think that's why aging scares me the most. It's because it's a slow, savory murderer. Not taking us out with a bang but with a whimper.

Passé

Never has he been this scared in his life. As the days go on, he begins to realize that his family is slowly replacing him. He's become obsolete. And there's nothing he can do about it. He's a mere nuisance, someone who's too mature, someone who's too emotional, someone who's dying. His life is being uprooted and imitated by his "doppelganger", in a manner of speaking. Nothing is his, nothing is of his origins, and nothing can be saved.

      Lily, he's scared.  

No, wait. Lily, I'm scared.

Smile Even Though Your Heart is Aching

Over the Summer I learned how to smile. How to smile to strangers. To the elderly. To everyone in general. But now it seems as if I have forgotten the simple mechanics of a smile.

Mother's Mind Games

When we're at the store my mom always tries to implant the idea that is was my intention to buy the box of cookies she wanted to eat or it was my desire to buy that bag of chips. It's Inception all over again. Family Edition. She starts with, "Do you want some cookies?". And I would say no but she insists that I should pick up a box, and then I'll ask her, "Do YOU want the cookies?" and she would say no. But it doesn't stop there, she keep pestering me about it until I get the box of cookies and then she'll say, "Oh. You want to eat cookies?"

Seriously?!

It seems as though a low self esteem is trendy now a days. All I ever hear people my age talking about is how ugly they are or if they could, they would change everything about themselves. Is it that wrong to love yourself? The answer is yes. Well if you're fifteen and surrounded by people who love to fish for compliments. It's absolutely disgusting when I see a perfectly handsome young man or a ravishing young woman, only to hear them say, "Man, I wish I had more muscles" or "No you're lying, I know I'm ugly". (Something along the lines of that.) And when I do see people loving themselves, all they get is, "You're so conceited!". It's really irritating, but you just learn to deal with it. But what I really what to leave you readers with is that you should love yourself no matter what. Don't think of it as being conceited, but more as being self aware of your beauty.

Snow

The weather people promised us snow. We got rain and wind and big white fluffy clouds. Everyone made such a big deal out of this possible chance of snow here in Sacramento. But it wasn't too much to fret over. The only reason why I believe it was so special to the population was because snow symbolizes purity and innocence. Both of which have fled this filthy town. Now we're all ridden with guilt and greed or some other incurable illness and the snow was our last chance at redemption. Unfortunately, redemption is not that simple, we need to find it within ourselves, not from a bottle of whiskey or a statue of Jesus, but instead deep inside of all us resides that forgiveness we so long for. The only problem is that we're so busy looking for it in other places that we forget our own potential.

Homer's Iliad

"Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be more lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again."

To Those Who. . .

     To those who ever doubted us, to those who ever looked down on us, and to those who never believed in us. You do not know where we came from. You do not know what we been through, what we had to go through to get that grade, what we had to do to get to where we are today. So please, don't belittle us. Don't ever put us down, don't ever feel bad for us. And don't think you understand what we've been through. You will never know what's like to have to live like we do. We worked hard for what we have. We did everything we could just to be here. We gave our strongest effort. And you can never take that away from us. All we ask of you is for your respect. Nothing more, nothing less.

Sincerely,
    The Weirdo, The Nerd, The Tomboy, The Queer, That Boy Who Sits Behind You in Homeroom, The Quiet Girl, and everyone else who has ever felt discouraged based on their appearance, or their voice, or the shoes they wear, the clothes they buy.  

Mistakes, mistakes, mistakes.

It irritates me greatly when I hear people talk about writing in pen instead of pencil because they, "Don't want to regret their mistakes". Mistakes shouldn't be dodged or reduced. We should celebrate our mistakes! They're in our nature, we can't help but slip up from time to time. It isn't our fault. Mistakes let us know we're still human, what good are we if we don't make a few errors here and there?

How a House Fly Enlightened Me

Today in class I watched as a fly landed a girl's back. There is stayed, and to my dismay, it did not move or fly. So I prodded and poked at it. Frustrated at it's serene and placid nature, I continued to distress it, until finally it fell to the floor. The girl did not mind my intrusion after the situation was explained. And as for the fly, well it just laid there. Occasionally dragging it's fragile wings and it's small body as far as it's little legs would take it. Then is stopped and took a "nap". A permanent nap, never again to fly, never again to be disturbed. The fly's life was no different from the lives we lead. We're continuously pried at, never allowed a break. God forbid if that were to be the case. After all, rest is for the weary, sleep is for the dead.