Heaven's Not A Place That You Go When You Die, It's That Moment In Life When You Actually Feel Alive

So live for the moment.

And take this advice live by every word. Love's completely real so forget everything that you have heard.

You're only young once. You can only ever have one chance at making those important decisions. You can only give childhood a shot one time 'round.

So live for the moment.

We spend our weekdays waiting for the weekends. We spend our school-months waiting for summer. We spend our childhood years waiting for adulthood and we spend old-age waiting for death.

It's an unfair cycle isn't it? It almost seems a waste of time... Why try at anything? Why attempt to make friends, to do well in school?

You're only young once. Why waste it patiently awaiting the arrival of grown-up status? Why waste a precious moment of the life that will be too-soon robbed from you?

You can say what you want about me. And I know that you do. But in the end, one is measured by their accomplishments, and what you've thought of me along the way won't accumulate to much anything. If I waste my time, treading lightly so as not to upset others, I am merely wasting time. And opportunities.

These are supposed to be the best years of our lives. Why must we make it all so complicated? Why not simply act on what you feel, not what others would say?

All of you, get up today, go out and do something you've wanted to do. Something that you would regret not having been able to do on your dying bed. Life's full of opportunities and chances. Life's full of mistakes and regrets. Life's full of spilt second decisions.

Heaven's not a place that you go when you die, it's that moment in life when you actually feel alive.

Kiss that someone you've always thought was amazing. Tell someone how you truly see them. Break a rule. Stay out past curfew. Sneak out in the middle of the night. Smile more. Let your hair down. Sing at the top of your lungs out the window in your bikini, but please, don't waste any time in doing so.

Body Piercing, Boy Blunders and Blog-Block, Isn't Summer Fun?

"I have to have my barbells changed at Pitbull today, want to come with me?"

"Sure. I have to go uptown to bring back my iPod anyways."

"I think I might get my tragus pierced..."

"Really? Maybe I'll get my nose done..."

And that's how I ended up in the chair, being pierced through the nose at the hands of some guy with red-colored contacts. It really was just as spur-of-the-moment as that.















Note the red around my nostril. This picture was taken like minutes afterwards.
















Chantal's funky tragus piercing. (The one on her inner ear.)

And yes, if you're wondering, I did cry.

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Well, I must say, it's has been quite interesting this summer... I've been meeting a lot of new people and enjoying myself a far deal more then usual. But with meeting new people comes meeting new people that should simply be stayed away from.

And all I have to say is that finding the bad ones is a lot easier then finding the good ones lately.

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Of course, if you haven't yet noticed, I've also been quite the absent blogger lately dispite my first promises of having a lot more time on my hands this summer. It hasn't been of lack of trying, not at all. I can't even think of how many times I've sat down in front of my computer lately and thought long and hard of how to put all the thoughts into words. For once, it just couldn't come to me.

I think that there are just some things to post about, and some to just not. And that's just how I'm going to put it for now.

But don't worry, I'll be back and kicking in about a week. I still have two more 'family' vacations to document before this summer's over!

Never Now, Never Again

I've never met someone who makes me feel so insecure
never met someone who makes me feel so worthless
so uninteresting
so last-week.

I've never met someone who can say things like you can

never met someone so slick with their lies
so powerful
so intimidating.

And I'm not even sure if it's you that I'm scared of anymore
or if maybe it's the possibilities you bring into the picture.
We have nothing in common, yet
there is a common factor somewhere I can't see.
We have nothing to talk about, yet talk long hours into the night.

I've never met someone who rids me of emotion
who makes me happy and furious at the same time.

I've never had such an awkward silence like the one I find in you
and in the silence, there are my words not-spoken if nothing else.

Special Edition - In Which The Worst Camping Trip Ever Ends Up... Not So Bad?

(Click the links for pictures.)

7:00. I am awake. Not by choice, I assure you. The most delightful noise ever in the mornings, I would have to say, is my mother's lovely bitching tone as she complains about the weather. Very loudly. While slamming doors.

We are going camping. Destination - Hickville. It's a zoo out there. I'm warning you now. Cows running rampid on the loose, children riding horses bareback. The scent alone is enough to throw one over the edge. I shall have to go prepared.

After dousing myself in bugspray and sunscreen, layering my clothes sufficiently and packing my iPod, discman, digital camera, cellphone and gameboy, I think I am ready for this.

Maybe.

Just maybe.

7:35. I go outside. Mom and The B-Word are preparing the car. We have packed enough food to feed a small army and most of a third world country. We have packed enough blankets and pillows to cover the prairies. My mother also likes to go prepared as well.

8:21. We are on the road. It is too early in the first place for my nocturnal brain to be awake, so I dose in the back seat. The small city of Saint John slips away outside my window as I drown out Lissa singing The Song That Never Ends, and The B-Word and Mom arguing about turn-offs.

9:30. We arrive somewhere with a McDonalds. The B-Word and Liss go inside to order our monstrous breakfast while Mom steps outside to take a smoke. I don't know why she constantly does this. She makes such a big deal about quitting and saving the money to put towards better things, then in a month she is back on the smoking wagon again, bitching at me whenever I point out how hypocritical she is.

Anyhow, my breakfast is smiling at me.

11:30. We arrive in a small town outside the Moncton limits. There are cows for cripe's sake. Cows! In people's yards! And barns!

12:14. We have taken a wrong turn. We are NOT on the road to Miramichi. We are NOT on the road to Saint John. We are on the road to Fredericton, which happens to be in the complete opposite direction! Go Figure!

We must pull over on the highway and somehow maneuver ourselves into a 180 turn! The B-Word seems to think it is Mom's fault, and Mom is blaming it all on The B-Word, so I'm just going to turn my discman back on and tune them all out.

1:13. Somehow, beyond all knowledge, we end up on the dirt road leading us to the house where we will be staying. That's right, we're staying at someone's house. Why then, do you ask, did we pack so much EFFING FOOD?! Because, my parent's idea of 'roughing it' is camping out in someone's backyard and using their bbq to cook dinner on.

Anyhow.

We Have arrived. I can tell it will be a blast from the minute I lay my eyes on their choice of transportation. And their 'residence', which is by the way, over 200 years old, built brick-by-brick by some of New Brunswick's first settlers. (Like we care!)

Mom steps out of the car for another cancer-stick while I explore my surroundings. There is like a plain that sort of just ends abruptly into beach area in their backyard. It's pretty in an Anne-Of-Green-Gables sort of way I suppose.

People start coming out of the house. There is a mom, (Don't remember her name.) a new baby, (Austin, I think...) a dad, (Grant.) a girl my age, (Natasha.) a four-year-old, (Bailey.) and a ten year old son. (Don't remember.)

They look hostile. I think I will go for a walk on the beach...

2:00. I did not know the beach was made of clay. But it is a bit too late now, eh?

I am covered, and when I say covered, I don't mean no skimpiness, I mean I have never been so filthy before in my life. It is somehow on my face. It is somehow on my skirt. It is somehow in my hair! And I am pissed.

I have to walk all the way back to the ancient house and ask for help to get cleaned up. Little did I know, half the neighborhood has arrived by now. (It was the Father's birthday, huge celebration, food and fireworks, yada yada yada...)

I find The B-Word, and he says for me to stand out in the yard and he will spray me down with the hose. I can't even describe the humiliation. There were like ten kids my age there, all staring and gawking at me. That's not even the worst part. THIS is the worst part. That is the container that is holding the water for the hose. It is from the ditch, and it gets pumped up the hill and through the hose to be sprayed all over me. I can just imagine the mass-production of mosquitoes happening in there.

After I am sprayed down, humiliated, drenched, ridiculed, I must go back to the car, get a change of clothes, and make myself look presentable. I don't care if this is 'the country' and people wear over-alls and plumber-pants, I am going to look good and clean the whole damn time!

2:10. Well, so much for that. While I was back in the car, putting my 'soiled' clothes into a shopping bag, there was a monstrous crash of lightning from behind me. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, the damn dog jumps into the car yelping and going on, completely SHOWERING me in mud and water, rolling all over my clothes and scratching at me like a frigging wild animal. I scream, and fight him off. A brief wrestling match ensues, and the final result is me, dirty again.

And that's not even the worse part. The worst part was having to walk back into that house again to go change my clothes and having to go right by the little 'posse' of teenagers who are smirking at me and giggling behind my back. "Get a loud of Paris Hilton," murmurs one of the minorly attractive male-pigs.

How. Dare. They. Dirty frigging hillbillies!!!!

By now, I have had it. My clothes are all dirty! I brought a lot, I know, but it hasn't even been two hours and I'm done to my last change of clothes. I am pissed, and I let The B-Word have an earfull. He deserves it though, this trip was his idea and now my new nikes are slathered in mud sauce!

3:00. I think he may have taken pity on me. Perhaps it was the tears... Hmm...

Either way, we are going to 'town' to buy me new shoes. Workboots are not my thing, but The B-Word insists that there is a Payless Shoes, so we will see.

'Downtown' Miramichi is pretty effing pathetic. There is a movie theatre... But even still, Studio5 ?? Who has ever heard of something like that?!

3:30. We're at some sort of water park. Who knows, who cares?! It's not the f'ing country anymore, and there are actual people there too.

We go to a small strip-mall and I pick out some new shoes. (Pink ballet flats, wahoo!) While I do this, The B-Word is next door in some shop and Mom and Liss are in Zeller's looking for a gift for the new baby.

When I come out of the shoe store, I realize that the 'store-next-door" is People's Jewelers. I give The B-Word a dirty look.

"What are you doing in there? Btter not be buying any more jewelry unless you're buying for me, you know mom doesn't want anymore... Remember what happened last time?"

(He bought mom like 500$ diamond earrings and she told him to take them back and put the money on the house. Mom is not a materialistic person, and his whole 'shower-her-with-gifts' thing is pissing me off.)

"I'm just looking..."

8:00. After a not-so bad day in 'town', we drive back out to the house where we are staying at. There are even more people there now then before, if that's even possible, and a small 'jam session' has started in the kitchen. The snobby country kids are in the 'den' watching movies. I hope the roof falls in on them.

8:30. The B-Word is bbq'ing our dinner on the porch. I go out to see if my hotdogs are ready, when I see THIS monstrosity on my mother's finger!!!!!! That little lying bastard went into People's and bought her a 'promise ring'. If it was an engagement ring, I would have barfed right there, but I surpressed the urge.

I shot him a dirty look and walked away. Mom followed after me to the car, (my new adopted headquarters...) and tried to brush it off as if it were nothing.

"Want to go driving?"

"Why would I want to go driving? What are we gonna do? Drive around and counts cows?!"

"No, I thought maybe you would like to drive."

Sweet mother of god, the day has come!

9:00. After a blissful hour of cruising around the dirt roads, (alright, more like lead-footing it. Mom almost killed me for that one!) we come back to the 'house-barn'. The party is reaaallly kicking now.

I am fed up. Just because I can't walk without falling or get bit by a bug without crying or go outside without sunscreen, does NOT make me Paris Hilton, or snobby, or a 'city girl'. For cripe's sake people, I'm from Saint John!

Screw them all! Screw their parties and fireworks and hay! I'm going to my car and sitting there blasting music!

I recline the chair, turn up the iPod, start text-messaging people while wrapped in blankets and then I hear it. A loud tap from the passenger window. I jump like eight feet before pulling off the headphones and rolling down the window. It is minorly attractive pig, who just got a bit better looking...

"Hey Paris, why don't you turn off the gadgets and come watch the fireworks with us?"

"Really?" I untangle myself from the blankets and stumble out the door.

"Yea, they're like the best part."

We get almost down to the beach where everyone is standing when I remember my camera! I tear back up the hill and come running back. They can kiss my ass, I'm here to document everything.

10:10. The fireworks were actually not that bad. There was this right cool one at the end that hissed and looked like a snake. When everyone turned to go back inside, Natasha and her friend asked if I wanted to go to the den to watch movies with them all.

They weren't exactly like my friends, but they were nice just the same. And still just as funny and hyper when they got going. We watched 10 Things I Hate About You and Dickie Roberts, or whatever the hell it's called.

About halfway through the first movie, I scream and jump up into the air.

"What is it?!" Now-Averagely cute guy asks.

"Spider, spider spider, Oh my go-oo-ooooddd! Kill it Kill it Kill it!!!" (I'm still not quite sure how I managed the picture through all the hysterics... )

12:30. The movies are done, and everyone is off to bed. We are camping outside on their front lawn in the four man tent, and the bugs are out to bug me.

After an eternity of moving around and trying to get comfortable, I finally manage to find an un-lumpy part of the mattress and settle down for a good night's sleep. That IS until I heard this...

"SNORE." (Or however you would spell the 'snore' sound...)

Then....

"Mmmm.... Noo0oooo0oo... I don't want to go on the boat...." (My idiot sleep-talking sister.)

I jump up, "Shut the hell up!"

1:00. They have not shut up. I am dying, literally dying here. Why can't they just sleep like normal people! Now The B-Word is started to make purring noises while Liss keeps grinding her teeth. I'm going to be grinding her head into the pillow any minute now!

"Kate, are you awake?" The B-Word asks into the darkness. Uh, obviously dipshit!

"Yea..."

"I just wanted to say thanks for making today really great."

"Your welcome, now shut up and let me sleep, because that would be reaaaalllly great!"

I'm a bitch.

11:00. We are packing up the car to go home. I am covered in bug bites, horse fly bites, dog bites, frig you name it and I'm covered in it. It has been a very long night.

We sat goodbye to everyone. Natasha says I have to come back next summer and she'll break me into the 'country' more. She's a nice kid, a bit naive for me, but nice I suppose. I agree, but only because I fear if I don't I won't be able to leave...

I sleep most of the way home before deciding to milk it for all it's worth.

"Mom, I don't feel good, I think I got too much sun. Can we stop and get some ice cream? Or a popsicle? I really want a Koolaid popsicle."

4:00. We are coming into Saint John. I can admit, it wasn't all bad. I got to drive a car and got new shoes and met a kinda cute country boy and ate some good food. It wasn't that bad, but that doesn't mean I'd do it again.

Miramichi, No. Saint John, Yes.

I know it's small and stinky, but I appreciate it more now I guess.

And I was so glad as we drove into the little 'town' that I lived there and not frigging Hickville!

(For all photos, visit my album.)

Once Bitten, Twice Shy

When I was younger, around 4 years old, my mom and dad started the trusted 'no-smoking' routine, branding into my brain that smoking was bad and would kill me if I ever tried it. Every time they lit up a cigarette, they would look over to me and again say how bad smoking was while inhaling deeply like it was the very air they lived on.

I think it was hard to understand this type of teaching. If you're supposed to practice what you preach then telling me not to ever try smoking while lighting one up yourself is not the way to go.

I came to my own decision over the years that to know if smoking was truly bad or not, I would have to try it for myself. I would have to light one up, just like my parents, inhale and suck in the smoke, then blow it all out to understand why smoking was so truly terrible in the first place.

When I did try it, one day down at the 'falls' with Jess, we came to the conclusion that smoking made you sick and your tongue taste like pennies. Of course, I would never share this information with my mom, so as not to let on that she had been right all along. It was like my own realization that what she had been telling me was for my own good.

The same thing occurred when my dad told me not to touch the stove because I would burn my hand. He would repeatedly tell me this every time he turned on the stove, telling me again when he was finished cooking, and warn me again if I even took so much as one step towards it. I guess I grew tired of his constant warnings, and decided that it couldn't be that bad, because I distinctly remember placing my whole hand onto the burner and screaming out in pain. What ensued was a blistering burn and a lengthy lecture from my dad about how parents were always right.

And the same thing happened again on my fourth birthday. After the huge mess of a surprise party that my parents had tried in vain to throw me, we had gone for a walk in the nature park to ease mom's nerves, who was eight months pregnant witht my sister. As I raced down the gravel path towards the playground, my parents cried warnings of "go slow" and "stop running", but I paid no attention. Before I knew it, I was flat on my face screaming my little heart out because a huge chunk of my knee was now not where it was supposed to be. Mom had to carry me all the way back to the car while dad ran ahead to see if there was any bandages in the office. I think the whole next 6 months was filled with now continuous warnings of not to run because, "Remember what happened last time you did that!"

Actually, now that I think about it, the same thing has been happening on a regular basis my whole life... It happened when my babysitter told me not to kick that log because there was a bees nest in it. It happened when my Uncle told me that DD7 was a stain remover, not a toothpaste, but I just had to try it out before I would believe him. (That was a bit hard to explain to poison control...)

It seems like all my life people constantly try to warn me against things for my own good, but I have the hardest time actually listening to them. I have to try things on my own before I can reach that conclusion. I suppose it's hard for me to comprehend that people might possibly know more about something then me. There are times when I seriously think I know everything.

And even though I do know this; my tendency to not listen nor co-operate, I continue doing so. (I think it has to do with the fact that I'm a Taurus, a stubborn bull. Well, that's what I like to blame it on.)

I'm warning you now people, don't even attempt to try and warn me about things. I am stubborn. I am a know-it-all, and I can be a freaking bitch when I have my mind set to doing something.

No matter how much I seem to be warned about not doing something, or not trying something, I know in the back of my head I will anyways. Because I need to come to my own conclusions and realizations in life. Because I need to figure things out for myself. And although I always end up in some sticky situations, I suppose maybe it's better to be once bitten and twice shy then never knowing at all and always being a bit curious in the back of your head...

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Anyhow.

Enough rambling on for today.

I leave tomorrow at 8:00 for a long weekend of camping in northern New Brunswick. Gonna be a blast eh? (And I say that with the most possible hint of sarcasm.) Three days of 'roughing it' in a four-man tent with my mom, my sister and my mom's fucking boyfriend, who alone needs a six-man. And my iPod only has a 12 hour life battery.

I'm going to die.

But if anything, I will accomplish quite a bit of writing. I'm packing a notebook and plenty of funky pens, so I will try my hardest to deliver some a-quality material, if not a+.

Anyhow. I'm out. I tried my hardest to write that meager attempt up there.^ Don't criticize it too harshly, as you know, it's been a while...

Cool

It's hard to remember how it felt before
Now I found the love of my life
Passes things, get more comfortable
Everything is going right

And after all the obstacles
It's good to see you now with someone else
And it's such a miracle that you and me are still good friends
After all that we've been through
I know we're cool
I know we're cool

We used to think it was impossible
Now you call me by my new last name
Memories seem like so long ago
Time always kills the pain

Remember Harbor Boulevard
The dreaming days where the mess was made
Look how all the kids have grown, oh
We have changed but we're still the same

After all that we've been through
I know we're cool
I know we're cool
Yeah, I know we're cool

And I'll be happy for you
If you can be happy for me
Circles and triangles
And now we're hanging out with your new girlfriend
So far from where we've been
I know we're cool
- Gwen Stefani - Cool.

If You Can Hold On, If You Can Hold On, Hold On.

The kleenex can't wipe away my tears anymore. You reach a point where you stop, look at yourself, and ask why you keep putting yourself into these types of messes. You reach a point when it feels like you can't go on knowing what you know.

You reach a point when you give up hope because no one else hopes or dreams for the same things as you anymore.

You reach a point where it feels like you've given up. Then you stop, look at yourself, and realize you have.

It's so easy to give up and give in, it's holding on that takes the strength. It feels like you're hanging, by one finger, on the monkey bars, and if you let go you'll fall into a pool of alligators. You must hold on, yet your finger is slowly slipping, slowly turning blue, slowly becoming exhausted. You cry out for someone to help you, someone to grab onto your hand and pull you up into safety, but it seems they are immune to your tears. If anything, they only seem to smirk more as they attempt to ignore you.

My finger is losing hope, as am I. It seems so easy to give in, I must fight the urge. I know I am stronger then this, I know there is a fire inside. I know there is strength in my poor little finger, it just hasn't shown it yet.

I can hold on, I won't give up. I have determination and stamina. I have willpower and more then anything, I have hope.

Gone, Going. Gone, Everything's Gone, Give A Damn.

Well, the school year is over, and I have never been happier about anything. I mean, don't get me wrong, I had a blast this year. I met new people (both good and bad) and I truly enjoyed my first year of high school. But I really think that all year long all anyone is really looking forward to is summer.

I've started a new project where I'm going to be writing a short story during my spare time this summer. You can also find the link above the tagboard I think on the right hand side.

And... If things work out as planned, maybe this blog won't be the only place you'll be seeing my writing from now on... But I'm not going to say anything further so as not to jinx it!

Wish me luck on my endeavors anyhow.

And the best of luck to all of you this summer in whatever you do! I'll have a lot more time on my hands now, so expect more posts, haha. I was starting to get quite lazy there eh?

Everyone's Changing And I Don't Feel The Same

"Did anyone call for me?" I ask as I turn to lock the door behind myself. I ask the same question every time I come home. It's like a routine. Come in, take off shoes, say hi and ask if anyone's called, then go to my room.

Routine is assuring. It is constantly there, always the same, and comforting in the fact that you follow it. Things are always reassuring when they stay monotonous. Sometimes it may get bland, but it is familiar. You become so used to things the way that they are, no matter how hectic or dull or confusing, and then it all changes one day and your world falls to pieces.

Sometimes it's hard not to make the assumption that all good things never end. But in truth, they do end, and they always end, and it's always difficult no matter how hard we try to get back to routine.

I was sitting here writing this earlier when all of a sudden I heard a faint popping noise and then I was surrounded by complete darkness. My orange paper lantern had burnt out. I use it every night as light to read or watch t.v. by, but never once, since I bought it last Christmas, had I really thought of it burning out. I sat there for a second before hopping out of bed and over to my desk. I removed the bulb from my other lamp and screwed it into place in my lantern. I flicked the switch and light returned to the room, but it was a duller light, it was faint and eerie and downright depressing. It cast shadows across my room and made it difficult to see. I did not attempt to find another bulb though, I almost enjoyed the dreariness; it seemed to reflect what I've been feeling the past while. I've been seeing things in a new light for a while now, and it's rather sad.

Things are not always happy little get-to-gethers at the park or movie nights at a friend's. There won't always be the group sleeps or the 'crew' or the nights just lying on the trampoline watching the stars. People are not always trustworthy or kind. Some prey on your innocence, others are only happy when you're miserable. All good things must come to an end. And it's harsh. And it's terrifying. And it's lonely. And it's unfair.

Sometimes it feels like it's you vs. everyone and sometimes it feels like everyone's changing.

I look in the mirror, and I don't recognize who I see. I don't like the person I see. I question, where are her morals? Where is her spirit? Why can't she stand up for herself and for what she believes in? Why has she changed so much?

Everything's falling to pieces. Everyone's showing a side I never thought possible. People I never liked I now question how I managed without them and people who I thought I could never manage without I now find myself questioning why without them it hurts so bad...

Maybe it's just a part of growing up, but I was never that keen on doing so in the first place. I thought I had everything planned out and accounted for, but I guess something came along and ruined the familiar and routine.

The only thing that seems to be the same anymore is the answer I get when I ask, "Did anyone call for me"

"No, no one."

Or the feeling I get in my stomach, wishing the answer would be the thing changing instead.

Cocoon

Based on your smile,
I'm betting all of this might be over soon.
But you're bound to win,
Because if I'm betting against you, I think I'd rather lose.
But this is all that I have,

So please, take what's left of this heart, and use
Please use only what you really need.
You know I only have so little, so please
Mend your broken heart and leave.

I know it's not your style,
And I can tell by the way that you move, it's real, real soon.
But I'm on your side, and I don't want to be your regret,
I'd rather be your cocoon.
But this is all that you have,

So please, let me take whats left of your heart, and I will use
I swear I'll use only what I need.
I know you only have so little, so please
Let me mend my broken heart and leave.

You said this was all you have,
And it's all I need.
But blah blah blah,
Because it fell apart.
I guess it's all you knew,
And all I had.
But now we have
Only confused hearts.
I guess all we have
Is really all we need.
So please,

Let's take these broken hearts, and use
Let's use only what we really need.
You know we only have so little. So please,
Take these broken hearts and leave.
- Jack Johnson - Cocoon.