Would You Like to Play Again?

I think I need to reset myself. It's been a while since I've spent any substantial amount of time alone, and that's not necessarily a good thing. That's not to say I don't adore the people around me; I do. But, being the type of person who doesn't know how to be around others without trying to gain everyone's attention, I tend to get more crass and obnoxious the longer I go without time alone. It's like time by myself allows me a chance to do things that I enjoy as an individual, and doing those things gives me substance. The more time I spend around other people, the more that substance starts to deplete; I use it up having good conversation and making banter. The less I have, the more self-conscious I get about people finding out and, consequentially, the harder I have to try to hide it. That tends to result in my becoming increasingly crude and obnoxious, classless, if you will. Apparently, in my logic, my increased volume will make people more inclined to listen to what I am saying. And I think I hate it. Therefore, I think that I need to enforce a certain amount of alone time every week. Regardless of what others are doing, my homework still needs to get done. There are books to be read and singing to be practised and poems to be written. Neglecting those is not going to make me happier, and it certainly won't make me a more interesting person to spend time with. I don't know whether I want to be better more for myself or more for other people. Whatever the reason, it still needs to happen. 

My Logic

I do sweet bugger all day long. That's code for "nothing". No really, I am a champion procrastinator. I'm sure you already know that though. It seems to be a theme within these blogs. Me whining instead of actually doing anything to resolve the issue. However, I come to you on this fine morning not to complain, but to validate. Because I have officially come to terms with the fact that I'm always going to be the type of person who works best at the last minute, who works best in the dark.

My whole world is awake during the day. The people that I interact with face-to-face are up and about, the Sun is shining (on those precious days when the rain doth not tumble), and there is much to experience. Why would I spend those bright hours doing work? I can do work just as well when the rest of the world is asleep, and then I can do it without missing out on the reading of The Philosopher's Stone happening in the quad.

I can handle being a little sleep deprived. Yes, I know it's rude to doze off in class. Yes, I know that it's not particularly fun to feel like your eyes are too big for your head. But it's manageable. And in return for losing some sleep, I get to spend time with the people around me, get grades that won't warrant my father slapping me across the face, listen to a bit of slam poetry, and maybe even do something spontaneous.

So as I see it, while sleep would feel good, it wouldn't feel as good as it does to be awake.

I'll Take My Data Plan in an I.V. Please

If you want to be somewhere else, be somewhere else. If not, put down your phone, and be where you are. You don't need to check Facebook at dinner. "Nobody's talking to you." you say? Well, maybe they would be if they thought that you were at all interested in what they had to say. Maybe you should actually engage in the conversation, and jump right in there when you actually have something to contribute.

Unless someone close to you has just been admitted to the hospital in critical condition, there is no need for you to be checking your phone for updates while you are spending time with another person. And if that's the case, why are you not at the hospital right now? Get your priorities straight.

Whatever you are texting about, there is a very good chance that it is not nearly as important as you think it is, and that it can wait the twenty minutes it will take you to eat dinner and show the people around you that you actually give a shit about them. If it really can't wait-if you need to solidify plans RIGHT THIS INSTANT OR THE WORLD WILL IMPLODE-then at least try to be discreet. Keep your phone in your lap, type fast, and make up for it afterwards by not gazing around like an aloof asshole, just waiting for your phone to ring or buzz or beep again and distract you from the obviously inferior company surrounding you.

It's called a watch. Checking it when you have somewhere to be is much less obnoxious than staring at the digital clock on your phone.

Too much or not enough

I have this story that I really want to write.

I think that it's a good idea, and that it could be wonderful and unique with the proper touch of a pen. But I don't know how to write it. I don't know how to progress plot in a way that is compelling and I don't know how to think things through and I don't know how to focus on one thing long enough to grow with it and improve it and make it perfect.

I'm afraid that I'll never be able to. I'm afraid, so I don't try. I'm lazy. I'm scared and I can't and I won't.

It's the "I won't" that upsets me the most. Fear can be conquered. Inability can be overcome through education and effort. But unwillingness to try? That cannot be fixed. Wait, typo. What I meant to say was "That cannot be fixed by anyone but me". No person can instill in me the will to try. My parents can pay for my education. A teacher can show me a plethora of ways to approach what I am doing, introduce me every skill they possess. A friend can encourage me and support me and tell me to get over myself and just write the damn thing. But only I am able to want to try. And that scares me.

Maybe once I've gone to school for a while, I'll feel more capable, more worthy of writing something. Maybe I'll stop giving up whenever what I'm writing feels more like a self-indulgent diary entry, and instead know how to start over from a different angle. Maybe I'll be able to differentiate cheesy and pretentious and trite from poetic and deep and true. Maybe I'll write to impress myself, and not anybody else.

Maybe I'll get over myself and write the damn thing.

Seconds turn into years, and then you're all like "Whaaa? Where am I? Why do my fingers smell like soup?"

It is distinctly unsettling to wish your life would go by faster.

It's one thing to have goals for the future for you to work toward in order to make yourself as happy as possible. It's another to wish away what you have right now by continuously thinking that the future will be bring you divine satisfaction, and therefore the present is somehow inferior.

Your life is every second you are alive, not just the memorable moments.

 If you are at work, that is your life right then. Regardless of how mind-numbingly mundane life feels for the duration of that shift, the only way it will be a waste is if you allow yourself to adopt the mindset that you should just "wait for it to be over". That is literally saying that you do not wish to be present for every moment of the oh-so-limited time in which you are bestowed with the privilege of consciousness. You could not possibly be so audacious. You are most likely there to make money so that you can be a functional member of first-world society. You have to be there, for all intents and purposes. That job may not be the first thing you would wish to do with your time. It may not even be on the list. But you are there. And wherever you are, it is important to be present. Smile at people. Tell somebody what you like about them, for no reason other than giving them permission to do the same thing for somebody else. Compliments from people who don't owe you anything are usually the most genuine. Be aware of the thoughts inside of your own head. If there aren't any, think some. Sing songs to yourself. Feel yourself breathe. Whatever you do, don't wish for that time to be over. All of those tiny bits of time that you bide away being dissatisfied add up, and if you're not careful the compost under the sink will get clogged with all of the seconds you mistook for rotton carrots. And then the sink will explode, and your kitchen will flood, and there will be a mess everywhere. And you wouldn't want that, would you?  

Irrationality

I have this fear that, one day, I'll turn my back to my parents, only to find that while I wasn't watching, they transformed into their true selves, two monsters staring back at me, faces identical to those I love but with eyes reflecting gleeful malice like shattering glass in a hurricane. I fear that I have placed my trust in two time bomb spiders, biding their time for years, nearly two decades, crouched in position, rubbing hairy pincers together in hungry anticipation, drooling through their fangs, weaving my infallable reliance on them until they have enough fabric to smother me, capture me, throw a dinner party. Make sure to use the good china. Forks on the left. Use red wine glasses for blood. Charming.

I can't look at mirrors when it's dark out. An irrational brain has convinced unreliable eyes that my face will melt off its bones, that who I see will gesture and blink of her own accord, that she will be the one with dagger cheekbones and hook eyes that pierce with barbs; that she will walk out of her frame, have her own reflection in that mirror. I'm torn between removing my eyes from their sockets as I run out of the bathroom, and forcing them to prove me wrong.

Flicker

The world can be truly beautiful if you catch it at the right moments, like the tiny hint of a smile caught in the reflection of a mirror, the twinkle in her eyes so quick you have to wish on it.

Street lights will go out precisely when you need to see the stars.

When the moment comes, take it, without urgency. Allow it to dissipate at will. It will come back.

You're not dating? Ooooh, I understand. Is it contagious?

For Chrissakes, I'm not diseased. I'm also sick of being called a "single", as if my not being in a relationship automatically means that I'm free to be snatched up by the first horny guy to notice I exist.

"Like, oh my god, you aren't in a relationship?"
"Nope".
"But aren't you looking forward to finding somebody to share your life with?"

Why do I have to share my life with somebody? Whenever I express the desire to remain single, the general reaction is "Oh sweetie, you'll find someone who will change all that". And maybe I will. But why is that the goal here? In case you have failed to notice, I am perfectly whole on my own. I'm not missing pieces. I don't need another person to make me feel complete, or to make my life better. In every "relationship" I've ever been in, I've actually felt like pieces of me were falling off; either I was shedding them, or the boy in question was trying to pick which pieces he liked and discard the rest. They're my pieces, and I'll do what I wish with them, thank you very much. Why do people keep insisting that I'll find someone who I'll fall head over heels for into a drooling puddle of looooove. Who on earth would believe that kind of emotion to be healthy or permanant? What I want to know is why they think I'll be happier with someone. Are they so unobservant that they never realized I was miserable every time I tried to have a relationship? I'm not going to pretend to be all cynical. "It" could very well happen for me. But I am currently unable to imagine myself being fulfilled while in a relationship. And that is okay.

Do people have this obsession with curing single people of our obvious disease because they pity us? Like, they just want us to feel the pure bliss of finding true love? Guess what, darlings: pure bliss can be found in many places. I defy you to tell me that I can't find it in other ways. I sing. I write. I have friendships. I have places. Tell me I'm not blissfully happy while experiencing those things. Tell me. I dare you. You're pity means nothing to me. I'm happier alone than I've ever been while linked to another person, and many people who are currently linked seemed to me to be much happier whilst unattached.

Or, does this desire to "couple" everybody happen because we live in a culture where you haven't matured until you've had sex, which is something often associated with relationships?

"You're still a virgin? Haha, you must be a prude/immature/scared".
"You're still a virgin? Good girl, keep your innocence for as long as possible".

Why does it matter if I've had sex or not? Whether I'm "immature" or "innocent", why am I considered different just because some guy hasn't shoved his penis inside of me? If you're different after having sex, I'm pretty sure that means you're doing it wrong. If a person hasn't had sex in our culture, then they get two choices: be asexual, or claim that they're "waiting". The former aside, why must people be seen in relation to whether or not they've fucked somebody else? She's "waiting". She's not, you know, a fabulous artist, or an aspiring travel journalist, or an avid collector of obscure socks. Nope. She's a virgin. Because a person hasn't lived until they've had sex. They need that other person in their life, however briefly, in order to validate their existence. They can't possibly be content with their life if it does not contain romance.

I'm not saying I think legitimate love doesn't exist, or that there aren't people in relationships who are so happy they feel like there are rockets in their feet that could shoot them to the moon. I'm saying stop defining people by whether or not they are currently "single" or "in a relationship". Stop telling me that eventually I'll change my mind and get married. You don't get to tell me that. I'm 17; there are many other much more important things I should be concerning myself with right now.  

Every single person is not a set-up waiting to happen, Yenta. This is not Fiddler on the Roof.

Flee Until Nobody Speaks Your Language

I recently started running. Well, running is a loose term here, because I run marginally faster than I walk. But pride is still present. I'm getting better, building up stamina. I can run four kilometres without stopping, and without feeling like the inside of my stomach is home to ancient tribal dancers who are over-zealous with their spears. I feel strong when I run, and that's weird for me. Feeling strong, I mean.

I'm a relatively weak person. I can't do a push up. I can't stand the idea of somebody thinking anything negative about me. I can't stand it because I have little conviction. I don't think about anything long enough to form a strong opinion about it, and so I have no passion to back up what I say. That passion would make negative opinions bounce off me, because I would know what I believe and be able to articulate it. Instead, I form half-baked opinions and then go about shouting like a fool. I don't like it. Whenever I say something stupid, or rude, or tactless, my first and strongest desire is to simply run away. To Europe. Where nobody knows me and I can live alone and never have to associate with anybody ever again and be mysterious and read lots and lots of books. I could be he biggest coward with the least pride; the fastest runner you've ever seen.

Regrets

There is no point to whining about how you wish you hadn't done something. It's done. It's over. Move on.

If you know that you're going to regret what you're about to do, or what you are planning to do, or what you are considering doing maybe, there is a very simple way to avoid that regret: DON'T DO IT. You might try to convince yourself that it will be fun, or that it's not that big of a deal, or that you won't regret it as much as you think you will. Guess what? The fact that you need to think about it this hard probably means that you shouldn't do it.

I believe that more people have good instincts than we can see. It's just that a lot of those people ignore those instincts and try to pretend that things don't matter to them that actually matter quite a bit to them. They ignore the nagging feeling that says "You're being stupid/a coward/immature". But no matter how hard you try to murder it with a samuri sword or a fork, you'll always feel that nagging in your chest or your head or your back or the third toe on your right foot or wherever that nagging feeling hits you.

So, you can make the choice to do it anyway, then try to brush it off and say that next time you'll be stronger and make the choice that feels right. Or, you can make the right choice now, even though it might not seem as fun, interesting, or kind. But, whatever choice you make, you have total control over the situation. If Brotips has taught me anything, it's that "you can literally do whatever you want". So stop whining about your regrets and actually do something about them.

Somebody Link This to Me When I Backslide

No more complaining. Only doing or fixing or getting over or standing up for. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a science lab to complete.

Go Out Into the World and be Mediocre!

Right now, most high school almost-graduates are flipping just a little bit of shit. Everyone has to think about the future. Some people have parents who are predisposed to do a lot of that thinking for them. However, it is still up to the almost-graduates to make their own decisions, if they plan to be relatively happy with how their lives turn out. Their parents aren't going to live their futures for them. But I digress...

High school is all about grades. It is all about getting the highest grades possible so that you can prove that you're a smarter, harder worker than everybody else. It's a competition. It is supposed to be about acquiring knowledge and figuring out what interests you and learning self-discipline. Ha. That's a very noble goal. High school is not a noble place. In high school, acquiring knowledge is unnecessary as long as you can remember something long enough to puke it out onto a test; who cares if you've actually benefitted from the class, as long as you pass it? In high school, interests are certainly not cultivated, broad music classes and sports teams aside; if they were, why would my school have so few clubs that the Yearbook Exec had to scramble to find enough to fill a page? And self-discipline? You've got to be kidding me. I'm writing this blog instead of writing an overdue lab report about pee. Self-discipline in high school consists of being able to hold your liquor, not talking back so much that your teacher actually punishes you, and handing in your assignments before the teacher refuses to mark them.

We're supposed to be "acquiring knowledge". LEARNING. But even I can't say that I'm trying very hard to do so. All I want to do is pass the test and get out. Only I also want to learn. I keep saying that I'll learn more tomorrow; I'll learn when I have the time, when I'm not busy doing busy work. I have to make time. I'm lazy, and that needs to change if I plan to live a life worth being proud of. Not everybody seems to care so much about pride of accomplishment, of learning for the sake of bettering yourself. You can't force people to learn. You can stick them in a chair and talk at them and be all big and scary and tell them how their future will be so much more open if they actually try, but you can't make them try. Motivation has to come from them, and if they don't have it, all you can do is struggle and scream and push until they pass the test. High school is all about creating functional members of society. It teaches you to conform; sticks you in a giant machine that makes a really ominous whirring sound and tries to scare you into getting good grades because that means that you get to have a future.

I understand: people do need to be functional members of society. We can't just have a bunch of lazy bums wandering around, leeching off other people and doing nothing to contribute. But it makes me sad that all high school does is encourage mediocrity, even if it is unwittingly. It might tell us to thrive and to think and to be creative and to be innovative. But when your teacher lets slide a deadline because nobody did the work, because everybody was so busy with the bajillion other things they need to do to graduate, it makes me wonder if this system, overloading people who have not yet fully matured with pile of work to do, is actually the best approach. We could get it done if we tried. I truly believe that. We don't need to be on Facebook updating our statuses about how much homework we have instead of actually doing our homework. But we're not getting it done. Personally, I'm not getting it done because I'm not motivated, because my whole life I've have been told that the test is the most important thing, and I'm starting to realize that it's not. Some of people aren't interested in their classes. Some do so much that they have to pick and choose what to care about. And some of us just don't like to be told that we have to do something-which I agree is a poor excuse for not doing something. But whatever the reason, we're not actually passionate about learning, at least in our current setting. We're passionate about passing. We're, however unwittingly, setting ourselves up to be merely functional. We need to figure out a different system; one that gives students the motivation and direction they need in order to actually find something they're passionate about. If they're passionate about it, they will try. Trust me.

I'm so caught up in shallow concern for what I'm supposed to be doing that taking time to do what matters to me feels like blasphemy.

Public education is better than no education. I believe that anybody should have the chance to learn. But that does not mean that everybody is going to take that chance. So many people waste their schooling. They are to blame for doing so. But the schools are letting them. The schools couldn't care less if the students are happy, or working to their full potential, or doing what they love. As long as the students aren't overly disruptive, do well enough to get a B, and end up as decent, tax-paying citizens, the schools brush off their hands and call it a day. Who cares if anything spectacular is created ever again? We just want to survive.

There's a reason Michelangelo and da Vinci existed so long ago. They didn't go to public high school.   

Of Teddybears and Bedsheets

What's the deal with sleep? It seems as though it has always had this power over me. When I was a kid, sleep was something that was forced on me; I wanted to be mature and be a part of the action in those mysterious hours after I was told to put head to pillow. And then, as I started being able to stay up later and later because I learned that if I close the door to my room, my parents can't see that the light is still on, sleep became a thing of fond memories, sometimes resurfacing in the middle of Chemistry. 

Sleep runs the show, no matter what.

I know that we need a certain amount to function, but I want to know why sleep is so important to me. Is it just because it feels good to lay there in comfort and be given a free pass to do absolutely nothing? That seems legitimate, but a lot of things are enjoyable. They don't dictate me like sleep does. Is it because I fear pain? I don't want to go through a day in discomfort? If I'm a little sore from going for a run (*gasp* Riley exercises?! It must be the apocalypse.) I still manage to get through a day just fine. I barely think about it. Is it because I want my mind to be as sharp as it can be? I haven't used a sharpener in years anyway, it's not like it makes too much difference. Plus, lack of sleep often gives me some of my most entertaining stories (see: Rita, the Family Friendly Pole Dancer).

So why is it that at the hour I feel I should be tucking myself in, if I am not doing so, the clock becomes all I can watch and I realize how quickly time is passing and how much sleep I am not going to get. I know that I'll be fine. This is not life threatening. What's the deal?

*lightbulb*

I'm a creature of routine. As much as I romanticize spontaneity, whenever my routine is broken, I go into my shell and try to keep myself as safe as possible. Change is only good if I control it. When I have to stay up late because I need to finish homework that I should've done eight hours earlier, it feels as if I'm not in control of what I'm doing. My procrastination got the better of me; past me is controlling present me. I like it when present me controls present me. It's nice. It is also a very rare occurance.

When I'm up late (early), not sleeping, it feels like I'm in this weird alternate universe, isolated, and it's a little lonely. My world is supposed to be asleep, but I'm fighting against that and it feels unnatural.

The overhead lights shouldn't stay on passed eleven. Then it can be bedside lamps until four for all I care. Reading into the morning feels natural. Typing and social networking and feeling my whole upper body cramp up from sitting hunched in the same position, does not.

Sleep is just another part of my old routine that I'm refusing to defend, along with caring about grades, and being quiet. On the upside, it never takes me long to fall asleep anymore. Head, pillow, out.

Beliefs?

Life sucks and then you die. Life is beautiful. Everything will be fine. If you're not attentive you will end up miserable. Life is meaningless unless you have someone to share it with. Don't define yourself by another person.

There are so many ways to view the world. I think I'm starting to figure out which views are mine.

A Prime Candidate for an Arranged Marriage

The guys I date fall into one of two categories:

1) People I'm not attracted to;

2) Douchebags

Awesome.

A Letter to All High School Guitarist Wannabees

TAB paper is not music.

If you are unable to read ACTUAL MUSIC, you are not a musician. I don't care how well you can play "Smoke on the Water" or "Hotel California" using a piece of TAB with the fingerings spelled out for you. Actually, I don't care if you can play "Smoke on the Water", period. Nobody wants to hear you play "Smoke on the Water". If you can't pick up a sheet of freaking music, put it in front of you, and learn a song from scratch, then you either need to learn how to do so, or put down the guitar and walk away. TAB is for lazy people.

TAB DOES NOT SHOW YOU RHYTHMS. One cannot get by with music that only shows pitch. Pitch is only part of the music. Rhythm is another, equally important part. So with TAB, one can only play songs that one already knows the rhythms to. Which roughly translates to "songs that one already knows". Which keeps from expanding one's musical horizons. News flash: Classic Rock isn't the only genre of music out there. I get it, you're cool and have excellent taste in music that you weren't alive to hear when it was released. Eric Clapton did it better than you. Get over it and play something new.

I can play TAB. Trust me, it's not difficult.

Your music teacher knows you've been playing the same three songs the entire year. He knows this because he's the one who assigned the songs to you. He is aware that you're not capable of handling anything more challenging. He is also aware of your attendance record. He is able to notice patterns and make connections. He knows that you can't play a scale to save your life. He judges you more than you realize. He's right. If you're not actually planning to learn anything in your music class, stop wasting the teacher's time while you sit there thinking you're hot shit because you can pluck out a few chords. Being a musician is not easy. If it's easy for you, you need to reevaluate how much respect you have for what you're doing. You also need to look down and see if your sheet music is comprised of notes, or of numbers on lines. If it is the latter, feel free to stop anytime you like.  

You are not a musician. Learn to read music, or get out.     

So What Would That Make a Library?

Books are utterly astonishing. Think about it. Set aside the love that you have for your favourite novel; all of the emotions it elicits. Forget about everything that you can learn just from moving your eyes across a few pieces of paper. Think just about the book itself: months upon months, sometimes years upon years, sometimes even numerous generations, of story, information, life, all dissolved in ink and flattened out onto pages and bound into a perfectly compact book. Pick up a book. Right now. Any book. The closest one to you. Hold it in your hands. Toss it around between your hands. Gauge its weight by bouncing it up and down a little. YOU ARE HOLDING A LIFE. Numerous lives, in fact, all snuggled in there somewhere, dormant, running on hamster wheels until somebody has the decency to exposed the pages to light, let them stretch a little, shout a little, be a little. I think that it would be so cool to have x-ray eyes, so that I could look through a book cover and see all of the words layered over top of each other, the ending of a story visible through its translucent beginning, hours of reading condensed into a split-second overload. Picking up a book, you have this whole other world, right there in your fingers; a piece of somebody else's existance has literally been captured for you to experience. It's possible to love books more than you love reading.

P.S. eBooks are Magic Destroyers

We need to make books cool again. If you go home with somebody and they don't have books, don't fuck them. - John Waters

And Then All I Heard Was "Blah Blah Blah Ginger"

Don't talk to me when I'm talking to somebody else.

I want to hear what you have to say. I want to give you my undivided attention. If I'm trying to listen to two or three people at once, I can't give each person the attention they deserve. And then I feel overwhelmed from trying to keep up, and empty because each conversation was superficial instead of in-depth, and any extra conversational flair was destroyed, and everything that could have been said wasn't, and there was no finality to the conclusion.

I don't care if we're discussing who is driving who where, what you ate for dinner last night, your father's heart attack, or religion. I want to give you my attention. I don't want to feel like a douche for trying to flip from one person to the next, jerking my head back and forth like a defective robot. My attention is not particularily valuable, but if someone wants it for whatever reason, I want to be able to give it to them.

It seems that nobody has a desire to talk to me until, all of a sudden, a few people decide that they all need to say something right this second. And then they start, as if my current conversation doesn't even exist. They just start talking and I get the fun job of deciding who I'd rather listen to.

If you want to talk to someone who is currently talking to somebody else, all you need to do is say "Hey, can I talk to you?", and then wait a moment or two so that they can wrap up whatever they're discussing with the other person. Not acknowledging that two people were talking before you got there is rude and unfair to everybody involved.

 

Healthier than I Would Care to Admit

Normalcy is boring. No, really. Who in their right mind would want to live a normal life? I literally cannot understand a more useless way to spend one's time, than in the attempt to be...*shudder cringe vomit*...normal.

Now, you may be ready to tell me that there are "lots of ways to be normal". I refute your claim. There are not "lots of ways to be normal". What's normal to one person won't be normal to the next; for instance, my friends all think it's weird that I don't wear underwear to bed. I think that they're all crazy. So I guess, in that respect, there are lots of ways to be normal, because everyone sees their way as what's "normal". But because there is no universal Normal, it doesn't really count. Normal can only exist honestly in one individual at a time.

I don't understand why one would want to try to be "normal", because it's never the "normal" people who do the spectacular things. To be spectacular, by definition one has to be impressive. One has to make an impression. One cannot make an impression on people if they are exactly the same as those people. They would just kind of smush together in total agreement, more or less losing their individuality. Maybe it's narcissistic to want a life that isn't quite the same as anybody else's. But that narcissism only exists if that person wants that life solely for attention and/or other personal gain. On rare occasions, there have been known to be people who do things for the sake of others, for the sake of betterment, for the sake of they have to and don't know how to stop. Innovation happens because somebody thinks of things in a different way. Art moves people because it presents an idea to them that they had never seen from exactly that perspective before, or could never adequately express themselves. Even if it starts off as one person seeing things differently, that has the potential to inspire others to create beautiful, thought-provoking, unique things. Any things. Whatever things they want. Things that nobody knew could exist except for that one person. 

I make a conscious effort to be bizarre. I have a problem opposite to any teenager from any high school film created in the history of Ever. Only being weird doesn't count if it's forced. Because being honest is more important than being anything else in the world. So I guess what I'm saying is make sure to let your strange bits fall out of your ears and into plain sight. But also don't get jealous over other people's weird bits. And don't make weird bits out of paper mache and try to pretend like you just found them there, sitting in your ears, completely by accident.  

We've all got "weird" inside of us. I guess the "weird" people are just the ones who have relaxed long enough to let some of it out. Or maybe they create it in larger quantities. Or something.    

I Can't Remember My Lines

My entire life is an exercise in characterization.

Because really, who wants to risk being boring?

It makes much more sense to act like a crazy person, if that will make things more interesting.

Or to dramatize your emotions far passed their actual intensities, in order to keep up with any attributes that you have previously assigned yourself, and to ensure that people believe you to be a manic ball of spit-fire and passion at all times.

I'd rather be anything but ordinary, please. (Thank you, Avril Lavigne. My current mental state is forever indebted to you.)

Quick descriptors, with a two-word maximum (unless some bizarre simile is being employed), are the only acceptable method with which one's personality can be made known to others.

Because it's very important that others see you as exactly whom you wish them to see.

God forbid they see something in you that you didn't put there.

God forbid you ever mistakenly acquire any trait you haven't previously deemed "acceptable".

God forbid anyone ever call you normal.

I Didn't Kill Anybody, I Swear

   What is it with people (namely me) doing things that we know we'll regret later, AND YET DOING THEM ANYWAY?!?

   Say I ate this cookie. It was delicious. Then I thought, "You know what would be good? Another cookie." And so I was about to take the cookie when I thought, "You know, you should really save that cookie for another time. It would taste much better if you went through a little bit of cookie detox first." And then I thought, "But it would taste almost as good nooooow". And then I thought, "You're gross. Just take your cookie, you will power-lacking gross person." And then I don't even want the cookie anymore. And then I take the cookie anyway but don't enjoy it because I feel like the part of me that could actually be something has lost out to the part of me that eats out of boredom and uses the internet like an addict in a back alley. *I've got your megapixels, you got the cash?*

   I continue to do things I know I'll hate myself for, things that are proven to diminish my self-worth. Is it just out of habit? Have I gotten so used to feeling disappointed in myself, to knowing that I could be better if I tried, that it's become a sick sort of comfort? Have I become too accustomed to watching who I want to be from afar, never letting her make her way out of my head? Am I insane, expecting a different outcome to occur this time around when I put off my homework until midnight the day it's due? Have I spent so long lazing in my hole of bedclothes, living by the soft glow of a computer screen, that the idea of climbing out seems like far too much work? Is it some sort of mixture?

   When I daydream about being successful, and by that I mean "doing something I could actually be proud of", the visions are always of a moment cut out from a bigger situation. I'm on stage, using every ounce of power my eyes have to pierce into the audience; I'm tearing through books as though I depend on them for survival; I'm known as that girl who just seems to know all of the things. I always skip over the part where I actually have to do work. I want to know things. Important things. Things that matter. It doesn't even matter if anybody is aware of my knowing all the things, as long as I can feel all of those stories and facts and concepts chatting to each other through tin can telephones in my brain. However, to know things, one must first learn the things.

   That's where we run into a problem. *Crash*. I do things I'll regret later. But I also don't do things, knowing I'll regret that even more later. Not reading that book destroys much more self-worth than eating that cookie. But I don't read the book. I'm too "busy". I've got essays to bullshit; labs to write on topics I refuse to take the time to remember, to learn properly. And so I make my way by scraping by. I know what you want to say: "But Riley, you get 90s, you're going to university. I wouldn't call that 'scraping by'." Yeah, well it FEELS like scraping by. I know when I've put my all into something. If I haven't, I will very well consider it "scraping by", thank you very much. I want to get by on skill, not just a handful of talent that I never had to work for.

   I think that's what it is. The feeling of not doing something I know I could do if I put the effort in and exerted a little will power. The feeling of not doing something as well as I'm capable. My brain feels soft. It needs some extra stuffing. If it doesn't get it, regret will try to stuff its way in. It needs to stop. Life doesn't have time hold your regrets; its hands are already full.

Oversharing

   Are you trying to elicit pity from other people? To convince yourself that just because they accepted your friend request they desire to hear about every detail of your day?

  They don't.

  Some people do care to hear everything you have to say; to know about every thought that passes through your head and every thing that happens to you. Save it for them. By telling every single person on your friends list about your relationship woes, you are putting those people whom you truly care about, and who truly care about you, on the same level as that guy you met at a party that one time. If you desperately desire to document your every thought and action, buy a journal.

   I know that nobody is being forced to remain your Facebook friend, or your Twitter follower, or whatever else (although some people would have you believe that to "unfriend" someone is akin to kicking their puppy or spreading a rumour that they still wet the bed). But seriously, before you decide to plaster your personal information all over the internet; before you start posting vague, passive-aggressive (not to mention immature) Facebook statuses about your latest breakup; before you choose to tweet about eating a sandwich, ask yourself two things:

  1) If I reread this in a week/month/year/decade, will I be embarrassed?

  2) Do I think that anybody else will care?

  If you post less often, people will actually care when you do post. So unless you have been blessed with the ability to manipulate words until eating lunch sound like an event unto itself, keep it to yourself.

Slips of the Tongue

Shipster noun. 1 Shakespeare hipster; one who claims to have loved Shakespeare before all others of their generation. (Even though she was born in the 90's, Lucy was a shipster, and therefore her English teacher wanted to punch her in the face).

Yellow Light

Slow down. Don't stop. Don't try running from the cops.

Be safe. Don't picket. It's not worth getting a ticket.

Back up. Stay where you are. Keep your hands inside the car.

Slow down. Keep your pace. But then you'll never win the race.

Dirty Words

Blithe.

Banal.

Safe.

Within the lines.

Pretty.

Respectable.

Careful.

Easy.

Similar.

Pastel.

Transparent.

Empty.

Lifeless.

Cute.

Blind.

Fake.

Normal.

Neat.

Flashing Red Lights

   And the quest for emotion continues.

   Feeling has become a source of alarm for me. Or, more accurately, lack of feeling has become a source of alarm. The ability to create is at the highest point on the tippity-top of my list of "Things Worth Living For". Imagining a world in which it was not possible to produce beautiful music or books or poems or pictures just seems vaguely pointless to me. They express the previously unexpressable. But the problem is, the most evocative, powerful, and poetic works of art are created by special people; people who feel; people who notice life.

    I rarely feel any emotion, let alone strong emotion. Self-pity doesn't count.

    I can fake emotion pretty well. It's becoming a skill that I am trying to hone. It's part of the reason why I love singing so much: you don't necessarily have to feel what you are expressing, you just have to make the audience believe that you feel it.

   Maybe it just...ahem...feels that way; maybe I just think that others feel emotions more powerfully than I do, because people have a tendancy to overuse this thing called "hyperbole"; or maybe I really am a couple self-inflicted barriers away from being a full blown psychopath. But, whatever the reason, when I step back for a moment, pull out my metacognition, and examine myself, I will usually come to the conclusion that I really don't care too much about the situation that I'm in, or where I'm headed, or whatever else. And then I have to start wondering about why I'm going that way in the first place. And then that brings to question where I could go where I would care about what I'm doing. And then I realize that I don't know, because the only thing that really seems to matter to me is creating, but I haven't the experience nor the emotion nor the "born with it" quality to create something worth anything.

And then feeling becomes a source of alarm for me.

And then I realize that I'm back at the beginning.

English, not Math.

I am weird, I am creative, I am talented, I am normal, I am annoying, I am lazy, I am a hipster, I am cheesy, I am mainstream, I am cynical, I am awkward, I am sarcastic, I am idealistic, I am afraid, I am a singer, I am asymmetrical, I am selpeld all wnrog, I am learning, I am confident, I am mechanical, I am thoughtless, I am shallow, I am a swimmer, I am a dreamer, I am a rhymer, I am an internet addict, I am a sleeper, I am

                                                                     WIDE AWAKE,

I am NOT a mathematician, I am profane, I am obnoxious, I am all talk, I am accepting, I am a writer, I am a rememberer, I am smart, I am childish, I am insensitive, I am dense, I am narcissistic, I am forgetful, I am narcissistic, I am growing, I am sweet, I am unique, I am a climber, I follow the crowd, I am a reader, I am a talker, I am judgmental, I am a walker, I am an avid eater, I am a picture-taker, I am absent, I am an over-analyzer, I am jealous, I am carefree, I am a contradiction, and

I make perfect sense.

Boyfriend

I dislike the term "boyfriend". Not because I'm against the idea of male companionship, or because I'm super PC and think that everybody should exclusively use the term "partner" when referring to their significant other. It's because it feels confining. Using the term "boyfriend" has always felt akin to putting myself into a box; into somebody else's idea of what a relationship is supposed to be. On the rare occasions when I have been in a position to call somebody my "boyfriend", the word has felt foreign coming off my tongue, awkward in my mouth, as though it doesn't really describe who that person is to me. Mind you, I've never been in a healthy relationship, but even if I ever am, I still don't believe that I will want to call the person I like/am infatuated with/love/desire/adore/whatever my "boyfriend". Lots of people use the term, and let me tell you, I certainly don't wish to emulate many of the relationships that I see before me. If I ever find someone with whom I wish to spend an inordinate amount of time, and whom I choose to kiss exclusively, it is likely that I will still wish to refer to that person as a friend.

Because that's what they will be.

Whoever decided that friendship and "relationship" are different entities is pretty wrong. Think about it: whom do you desire to spend the most time with? Your friends. You did choose them after all. If you desire to spend a lot of time with your family, it's because they are also your friends. Friend is another word that I think some people (including myself) often use too loosely. But that's another blog. You've got to be friends with someone if you ever wish to have a "relationship" with them, because hopefully you're going to be with them for a fairly long while, and you don't want to end up sick of each other or frequently wishing that they would just leave you alone or trying to force yourselves to understand each other just because you're "boyfriend" and "girlfriend" or "partners" or whatever the hell you are.

I don't want a "boyfriend".

I want a friend, who just happens to be a boy, and who I just happen to enjoy kissing for extended periods of time.

However, this poses a slight problem, because a lot of people will take my wish to not call somebody my "boyfriend" as me saying that I want to play fast and loose with their feelings and not commit. Yeah, because there aren't people who have a different "boyfriend" every week. The label doesn't make your relationship more legitimate. Your relationship makes your relationship more legitimate. Your character and your understanding of the other person and your interest in the other person decide whether you two should be together, not some arbitrary word that doesn't even really make sense. And so, if I ever get myself relationship, and the other person asks us what we are, I will tell that person:

We are us.

Places

I like to say that my true love is a campground. I've never been very good a falling in love with people. The idea of "human love" has always evaded me. Humans change and don't always know how to articulate their thoughts and quite often just suck at communicating. Places, however, do not, which probably has a lot to do with that fact that they don't have brains or emotions or anything like that. But I do have brains and emotions and all of those things. And I fall in love with places. I grew up going to the same campground every year. I know that place, the dirt roads and the path to the beach, the beach and the buildings, the little field just to the right of everything. If I had spent that much time with a human it would be expected that I would become attached to them, whether I liked it or not.

The same thing applies with places.

In my place I am often completely isolated, yet never alone; it forces me into my own head, so that I have to self-reflect and be comfortable being my only friend. I don't have to try to explain my thoughts to it, because it already knows. It makes life feel more real, because I'm not forcing myself to be something for somebody else, or worrying about accomplishments, or doing what I "should" be doing. In my place I don't have to be anything. I can simply drift. A body doesn't even really seem necessary; I could just let my thoughts out loose and see where they chose to go. My place might not have brains or emotions, but I've never felt more possibility than when I've been staring up at the sky while swimming to the middle of the lake. My place is plain and blank and therefore I can turn it into whatever I please. I can put faeries into the bushes, or into plain sight. I could make all of the plants sprout ears. There could be a whole merworld beneath my toes as I paddle through the water. There could also be the creepy monsters from "A Promise Is A Promise" lurking beneath me, but I try not to think about that.

I have to share my place with a bunch of people who just. Don't. Get it. Or maybe I just don't want them to get it, because I want my place to stay mine. But I guess sharing wouldn't be so bad, if they promised to really appreciate it, and not just sit on the beach with a book or a bunch of screaming children, not seeing what's right in front of them.