:] for those of you who haven't heard from me in a while.
:] for those of you who haven't heard from me in a while.
Memorial Day was really nice. I drove Will and I to my grandparents' to celebrate and we played that horse-shoe/golf game all day. It got really hot outside and I ended up getting some color.
On Friday I played at Avenue 209 and it was a good time. I feel like every time I get in front of people I get a little bit of my love for performing back. I really hope to keep playing there over the summer. I can't for the life of me remember what I did on Saturday... Which reminds me that I started taking Ginko for my memory because I don't really have much of a memory left.
Sunday I went to Penn's Cave with Will. We smoked on the way and the drive was freaking amazing.. It was like nothing I'd ever seen. We got to a certain point in the mountains where everything got wide open and bright. The grass was literally greener on the other side. There were flowers and butterflies everywhere and it smelled like lilac. Getting there was probably the best part. The cave was really cool too... The only was I can describe it is "astounding". I've never seen something so vast and deep. It was really fun going through on the way back, unfortunately on the way through I had to sit next to a women wearing WAAAYY too much patchouli and the smell gave me a headache, plus she was translating for her screaming son so I couldn't hear the tour guide even though he was only cracking terrible jokes the whole time.
Yesterday I felt miserable. I'm pretty sure I have some form of stomach flu going on or something. I feel like there's a rock in my stomach... but I went to work anyway, and afterwards had home made chicken noodle soup at home. One of the best parts of moving back home is the food. I like the food and the company.
I can't decide if I want to keep working all summer and go to school in the fall or go mid-way through the summer. Any advice? I'm going into cosmetology, and I'm gonna specialize in color and hair extensions. I'm really excited about it, which makes me want to go sooner but at the same time I really like my job a lot and could use the money... I have student debt like WOAH.
I've been thinking that it's really hurtful that I never heard from my roommates since we moved out of the house... I always thought that we would keep in touch, and I know they're in Europe but still. Last week was my birthday and nobody said anything... Maybe we'll be in touch when they get back. It sucks to think that they might just not like me, especially when I spent so much time doing things for them around the house because they wouldn't do it for themselves. Whatever. I didn't hear from my dad either.
Oh! herb of the week. Everyone should seriously check this out. You can get it at any head shop, and it's called Nuichi (said like knee-chi). It has a little bit of salvia in it, but you don't trip, you just get enhanced audio and visual effects. It mixes VERY well with other substances and it helps you relax. Totally legal but not for long because the government doesn't like us to enjoy ourselves. Try it- all your friends are doing it.
I have life pretty much served to me on a silver platter but yet I can't seem to have as much inspiration as I'd like. I work everyday of the week, I play guitar and read when I'm not working, and now I'm in a band. All of this leads me to question where exactly it is I get my inspiration from.
Lately I've switched gears in my writing and started to focus more on writing lyrically so that I can maybe (hopefully) do some originals in the near future. The more I write, the more I realize that it takes a real catastrophe to write something people can identify with. Right now I'm reading "Lucky" by Alice Sebold, and she is my example of this because she opens up the memoir by talking about how she was raped and beaten in a park. Why is it that people feed off of other peoples' misery? This is almost funny in a way.
SO I moved back in with my parents and that seems to be going well. I painted my room dark orange and use only lamps as a light source. It's a really cool place to hangout and I finally got rid of that little girl vibe. I'm anxious to see how the summer will unfold, living there now and all. In a way I'm excited that it's summer but I can't help but feel like it's going to be a lonely summer because I don't do all of the things most people my age do... I've tried to recently and it never works out. I really don't like to drink, and I like to go to bed at a certain time every night. I like living a sort of quiet life and doing things like read a book in a bubble bath every night but at the same time I crave excitement and craziness.
The last time I tried to "bust loose" and hangout normally, my roommates and I had a house party. It turned out that the majority of people who showed up were "straight edge" and didn't do anything except seal off the living room and play hockey on an Xbox that they had brought with them. Someone please tell me what the hell happened to my generation before I start thinking I'm retarded. I was drinking a wine spritzer when this group of people wearing metallic headbands, plaid shirts, and moccasin slippers came through my door. The word repulsive comes to mind. Long story short, I ended up feeling anxious the entire night and hung out with the band in my room doing other things. I've come to the conclusion that I am not the large-group-of-unfamiliar-people- type.
On Tuesday I'm going to be 19. What the hell? Only 19? Time moves so slowly for those of us who are waiting.
If I could wish one thing right now, it would be that the salvation army would stay open past 5:00. I swear, sometimes the businesses of downtown lock haven try not to make money. I mean come on. At least we stay open until 7 most nights. This reminds me that I should get back to work.
It's getting to that time of year; the time of year that I assume most college students dread. It's time to start packing up everything we own and toting it back to our parents house or at least to a new place of residency. I always find myself trying to have something in common with the majority but never seem to be running with any pack. While my roommates struggle to find a place to put all of their things while they spend a few weeks in Europe I am busy remodeling my basement bedroom at my parents' house. My plan was never to move back, but like most ideal projections in life, things didn't work out the way we anticipate.
The day I moved out, I packed random things that I thought I'd need- i.e; my bed, clothes, t.v., stereo (this is very important to me... it's sort of a family heirloom), and other such "necessities". What was left behind in my room were the traces of my existence. My entire life has been about collecting things or saving things. I have this crazy idea that if something were to happen to me unexpectedly, I would want people to be able to walk into my room or read my journals and say "hey ya know, she was alright. I get her". So often in this life we misunderstand people or just don't take enough time to listen to them and this is why I insist on having physical proof of my existence.
Going through the rubble and random objects in my room, I can't help but look back on the child that I once was. I found things from when I was just a toddler up until my middle school years and I wonder if anyone ever really knew me. I sometimes wonder if my mother ever really knew me. Growing up I spent the majority of my time alone in my room making things, reading or writing... one thing I found that I thought was most interesting was an old keepsake that I had written in. I talked about all of my favorite things and about my family. At that time I had a different step-dad, different address, different understanding of things, and I viewed the world through a tiny kaleidoscope; nothing was ever what it seemed to be but rather a more interesting, colorful, or distracting version of what was really happening around me. We could go our whole lives living in oblivion unless we decide to search for truth on our own.
Life is so full of interesting questions... how do we ever come to know people other than to just listen to them? A friend once told me that you are who you really are when you're in private. Does that mean that in a way, we're all sort of hermits or that we're all just a little misunderstood?
F.I.T, Drexel, I.U.P, SanFran Art Institute... I don't think it matters, really. Over the past months I've been told over and over how you "get what you pay for", but the question that enters my mind over and over is will I be happy in the end? Is anything in life worth my happiness? I could go to school for years and spend money that I don't have, and I could get a good paying job but does that even matter if I work so hard that I don't have time to enjoy the money I make?
I've abandoned music to study something more reliable... something steadfast in the realms of money making...something that will guarentee me a job after school, and it wasn't until recently that I realize that there are no more guarentees. I think what I really wanted was to have a job that feeds my hunger for money, and in this process I lost sight of what is most important to me. So what if I spend the rest of my life playing my little guitar and writing to no one in particular. All I ask is for happiness, for peace... for a roof over my head and a light so that I might be able to see what I'm doing. I really believe that there are people in this world who were created for one purpose and one purpose only. If they don't fulfill their purpose, they live a life of turmoil. I've spent so much time asking myself how lives get turned upside-down so easily, and without you even noticing? It's taken me 18 long years, and I finally see that as hard as I try, I can never be someone else. I am stuck with the person that I am, and until I accept that I won't be happy. I search, I seek, I try, but what I find is that I am a musician and I have an artistic mind. I will never fit into the mold that I wanted to fit into. For so long I've just wanted to be someone smart, someone intellectual. What I've wanted most was to prove to everyone that I'm not stupid and that I am capable of anything but I'm done with all of that. I don't feel the need to prove a point anymore. I am and I live my own point each day just by being the person that I am.
It makes me sick to think of all the school guidance counselors, teachers, and college professers pounding the thoughts in our heads everyday that we can't just be who we are- we need to focus on the future and we need to buckel down and make some money. Where do our own personal needs and desires come into the picture? What if we're missing the point altogether?
If life stood before me and asked me what it is I really want I would say that what I want is to live a simple, quiet life. I want to do the things that I enjoy most, and I want music to be one of those things. These days we are trained to look so far in the future that I think we don't know how to make the right decisions in the present, and the current economic situation doesn't make anything easier. We are merely a generation of numbers with an overwhelming amount of pressure on us to not screw it up. I'm tired of the pressure. I don't want to be another money making number, I just want to live my life and do only what is necessary.
Obviously, I don't have it all figured out. The only thing I know for sure is that I will never fit into a mold. For now I suppose I'll just take it one day at a time.
Something about the winter time, particularly, the time right after Christmas gives me inspiration. It's as if I wait all year to get the chance to speak up, write down, read and articulate.
Since I have no audience, I feel perfectly comfortable writing here. Some little voice inside my head tells me that maybe someday someone will read it and it will impact them. Another voice echoes back and says, "you're crazy".
I am a writer. It's what I do. I do it when I have inspiration and now is that time.
I am a day dreamer and real thinker- English student by practice. I go to school where my professors critique my writing. Because of this, I collect pieces of their minds. The more classes you take, the more your professors start invading your skull. You take pieces of their art along with you. They sculpt and mold you into a version of themselves. This is the ultimate goal- to make other people more like you, but never let them become better than you. This is college.
I am Susanna Kaysen and I am sure of this. The events that have taken place in her life are exactly the same as mine, except that the cracked out doctors I see don't listen to what I say long enough to have me committed. Maybe it costs them money to put patients away. My mother suggests a new doctor but I've already gone through four and not making any progress. The battle for the mind is a long and drawn out process because we all know that doctors put their focus on one thing and one thing only- money.
I have been other people when I wasn't being myself. I have been a girl from Eastern Pennsylvania for the past three years, however, I have never been to the small town in Eastern Pennsylvania that I described. I have been three years older than my real age... and during that time span, I remained at that age for three long years. I have successfully fooled many people in my adolescence on behalf of a relationship with someone much older than myself. It turns out that society doesn't smile on women with boyfriends much much older than them, and boyfriends much older than their girlfriends don't smile on the thoughts of losing friends because of certain assumptions. I have lost a lot of people that I thought were important to me but I've also gained a few.
My life is very interesting if you can listen.
What a good day.