"Everything beautiful in architecture has been done already."

Maybe, I'll stop talking in metaphors one day, because no one understands why I'm a robot anyway. Or why my gnomes are no longer necessary.

Maybe, I'll stop thinking boys will catch my hints, because I guess they haven't even heard of that word before.

Maybe, I'll stop not saying things I want to say in situations, because they would make for a much more interesting story later.

Maybe, I'll stop with all the nick names and I'll tell all those strangers I like the way their faces look and I like their button up shirts.

Maybe, I'll do that. 

Maybe, I'll chicken out, because I'm really not good with words in real life. I'm not good at saying goodbye at airports, and I'm not good at saying goodbye on the telephone. I'm not good at leaving voicemail messages and I'm not good at telling boys I like them. I'm not good at discussing the problems I'm having with the people I'm having them with. I'm not good at any of that, really. But, I suppose I should improve, because I don't want to turn into One Of Those People.

So, I'm going to start being awesome with words. I'm going to start answering your questions when you ask them, and I'm going to start telling the truth about what I think about you. I'll do that. I really will.




Just promise me you won't melt, ok? That really would make for a difficult situation come fall.

These photos are from my graduation and have nothing to do with what I wrote.

I'm not asking for a lot, really.

Just a picnic at Fairyland with the button up shirt you wore in that one picture. And a Dawson's Creek marathon because there's nothing else to do. Oh, and maybe some of that cheese that you talk so fondly of. I could use some of that. Just not the kind I had before. Not the flowers-on-Valentine's-day kind. I'm talking about the first-kiss-while-playing-laser-tag type. The non-disgusting-PDA type. The swimming-and-snow-cones type.  The notes-and-secrets type. That kind is so much better, wouldn't you agree? And let's have some late night chats around fake things while we're at it, and agree high school is stupid. Let's discuss things we know nothing about and pretend to be mature. It's better than being the epitome of high school douche bag, even if high school doesn't think so. Let's drink things we can't pronounce and try to break social norms. Let's avoid social events and go to the arcade every day until we can pool our tickets together and buy a lava lamp. 

Let's make sure to just do things without asking permission, because we don't want to turn into Alex. Oh, and lastly, let's make sure this doesn't melt into the last half of August, because I have things to do and I know you've got those plans of yours.

P.S. Dear Girl Who Doesn't Need A Nickname, don't show this to anyone. If you catch my drift.


XOXO

In the mean time, I'll wrap my gnomes up and stuff them in my closet, because they aren't as necessary and I thought they were.

I was going to stop posting on this blog, but I decided to keep it until I get my new computer and Photoshop. My free trial of cs6 ran out on the 31st, and it's super hard to go back to Photoscape. Ahhhh. But, hopefully I will make enough money this summer to have enough to buy it when school starts. But, for now, this will be my amateur-high-school-teen blog. I might as well get it all out of my system.

Anyways. Last night I attended a pool party at The 40 Year Old Teenager's house. The Awkward Indie Boy didn't come, and I feel like he would have contributed an interesting quality to the night. I should have called him. 

But, The 40 Year Old Teenager was there and he was enjoyable. We talked about how there's no communication. The Coffee Shop Boy was there as well, and he was just as great as I thought he'd be. The Girl Who's Going Places and I took our friendship to the next level and decided we are extremely similar. The Girl With The Zelda Tattoo entertained my friend and his friends, which was nice. I guess the rest of us weren't as entertaining as they thought we should have been. Overall, it was a good night. Except for the end. I think something should have happened, and it didn't. Also, something else was annoying, but, it's not like everyone is here to make me happy.

Only my gnomes, right?

She had blue skin.

And so did he.

He kept it hid

And so did she.

They searched for blue

Their whole life through,

Then passed right by --

And never knew.


-Shel Silverstein

"I should have left long ago."

“He forgot men, the Dean and the principle behind the Dean, which he wanted to discover. He thought only of how lovely the stone looked in the fragile light and of what he could have done with that stone.”

-Ayn Rand, The Fountainhead

"I don't usually let things happen to me."

I want to see, real, living, and in the hours of my own days, that glory I create as an illusion. I want it real. I want to know that there is someone, somewhere, who wants it, too. Or else what is the use of seeing it, and working, and burning oneself for an impossible vision? A spirit, too, needs fuel. It can run dry.

-Ayn Rand

"These rocks, he thought, are here for me;"

None of these pages are the same. They're not even in the same book. That's funny to me, because when we talked I was under the impression that all these people had my books. I thought I had theirs as well. I thought we had weekly discussions about our favorite characters and chapters and lines.

It turns out they burned them for warmth while they were waiting for something that was never coming in the first place. They burned them and now it's just ash in my fireplace. I don't like ash in my fireplace. I like my fireplace clean and empty. I don't like it filled with ash. Especially not the ash of my favorite books.

Maybe, they're not my favorites anymore. Maybe, they never were. Maybe, they were just books I picked up for half off in the self-help section. Maybe my favorites are really The Alligator and The Coyote and The Zoo. And you know what? Probably, The Antelope as well. I like those ones, and I always have. Maybe those are my real favorites. And maybe no one else has those, but it honestly doesn't even matter.

I hope that ash stays in my fireplace forever. I hope it sits there and watches me read my real favorites. I hope it stays that terribly boring shade of black. I hope no one notices it; not even when the wind picks up and it blows all over the rug. Not even then. Not even ever.

Ash isn't worth my time, and it most definitely isn't worth yours.

I can't fix you.

The spider is eating me for dinner tonight.

Gray areas are getting bigger. Bodies are getting skinnier. Small chat is getting longer. Eyes are getting heavier. Mouths are getting wider. Tolerance is getting lower. Thoughts are getting ruder. 

I generally like you. I just don't like what that entails sometimes. And no. I don't mean this in a vague way. I'm addressing you. All of you. All of the world. 

I'm excited to work at my favorite coffee shop. I'm excited to never see my dental teacher again. I'm excited to burn all my paintings. I'm excited to meet new people and start new things. I'm excited to earn money for college. I'm excited to go to school and not know anybody in any class.

This chapter of my life is almost over, but that pages are all stuck together. Which means it's going to take that much longer to get them apart without ruining the next one. 

That's the part I hate.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Maybe it's choppy to you, but I like things asymmetrical.

Blue lips, blue veins

I can't believe high school is almost over.

There's a lot I'm going to miss, I guess. 

I plan on coping with my emotions by cooking and learning to knit. I'll probably watch the 83 episodes of Boy Meets World I've got recorded on the DVR as well. Once I finish that up, I'll probably start on Days Of Our Lives. I hear there's a character with my exact name. 

Where would we be without daytime television? 

Saves me everytime.

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + 

XOXO



When you cry a piece of my heart dies

Lately, I feel like blogging is stupid.

I have nothing to say. I just like taking pictures and need a place to put them.

I don't want to complain about anything. I don't want to recap my day. 

So, what to write, what to write.

Perhaps I'll share a secret everyday. That sounds fun, doesn't it?

Secret numero uno:

The only time I have ever snuck out my window, was the summer of 2010. I stayed up all night to watch the sun rise in the morning. I made some chamomile tea, just so I could have something warm as I sat outside. I sat in my driveway and noticed there was an ant on the cement. I remember thinking that it took a long time for the sun to rise. It wasn't what I was expecting. I climbed back down my window well, and back into my room. I checked myself twice for spiders, and then started making breakfast. 

I never crossed "watch the sun rise" off my bucket list.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

XOXO



What's meant to be will always find a way.

This is all I have for you.

Here's a list of all the things I'm going to do this week.
+vacuum my room+wash my sheets+clean my closet room+finish my painting+lay out everyday+walk every night+make a college meal everyday+paint my nails striped+finish my book+take Veronica's photos+experiment with bookah+mow the lawn+write in my journal+

Also, photograph it all.

XOXO

Let's jam.