The Strong Scent Of Evergreen From The Passenger Seat; As You Are Driving Me Home

Images were spinning through her awkward mind. Humming incoherently, she reflected.

There's a sad widow, recollecting the love of her departed husband, with a single tear welling up in her large and caring eyes. Two teenage girls, embracing and sniffling in the girl's bathroom. A solitary young woman, lying on her bed in the dark. She holds the picture of a boy and tries her best to hold her heart together at the same time.

Such love and compassion. Such emotion. Oh, how the world is a pitiful place, she thought. How people hurt sometimes. How the love of something or someone can literally break you into two.

Smiling to herself, she stepped off the city bus into the mist and serenity. The fresh smell of the evergreens. How she loved the smell of the rain. How she loved the world, with it's global warming and homeless people. How she loved days like today; so quiet and thoughtful. Such an absolute dread of a day, how wonderful.

Treading home, the thought arose. Suppose the only point of falling in love was to then fall out. The only purpose of the excitement and anticipation was to progress to the dissapointment and depression. Yes, this had to be it. And in finding the answer, she felt much ease. Hopefully, those pour souls would find the same.

When she entered her room and saw his picture looking up at her from the makeup stained pillow, she gave it a dazzling smile. "So long," she said, while tossing it into the trash. "I won't be playing russian roulette with my heart anymore."



* The title's of my posts from now on, will be lines from songs that are either inspiring my writing or stuck in my head at the moment. At the bottom of each entry, I shall make note of the artist and song name.

Passenger Seat - Death Cab For Cutie

Yesterday's; Your Ex-Lover Is Dead - Stars

And In That Moment It Started To Pour

Tra-lala-la-la. Work was boring tonight. I'm pretty sure I did absolutely nothing but talk to Stephen all night and make it look like I was folding tables. I happen to be talented at that. But yeah, feet = killing me. I don't know why every morning when I am running for my bus I don't think to bring the comfortable work shoes. But I just don't, so now I have three rather large holes almost in the back of my left heel. Gross.

Feels kinda cool to be writing in this again. I understand entirely this won't be my best piece of work; I'm merely warming up. I look back on some of the old stuff, damn, it was good. (Damn, I am conceited.) So I'm hoping the little site make-over will cause me to feel the desire to blog. I'm thinking about having one post per week to catch up on what's been going on, as this one does, and then the rest will be either poetry, short story or randomness. It will be good, I promise.

Okay so yeah. I now work at Zeller's, since like July, and I've decided that each shift is like a fight to stay alive. If I can conquer the night and make it till closing, then I am a stronger person. That is seriously what it feels like though. Every night absolutely drags by, especially in fashions where I happen to be stationed. Everyone else is so slack and has right the good time, and here I am stuck in like old men's socks... for an eternity.

Of course, it has some form of compensation for this or I wouldn't still be there. Well, for one, the hours aren't too bad, (When I'm actually getting them) and I recently acquired a raise from 6.70$ to 7.00$. So yay for me. The people I work with are all pretty cool so that makes it a bit better. Oh, and I'm forgetting all the sweet people I meet! *roll eyes*. Yeah, the other night, two pervey french men came in who spoke limited English. They were looking for tight fitting faded jeans, and could only describe them in french, so they're damn lucky I'm fluent or I would have had no idea and they would have been mightily disappointed. Anyhow, I found the first french perve a rather skin-tight pair and sent him into the changing rooms to try them on. About two minutes later, the man comes out, holding the pants in his hand and wearing... none! He starts rambling in French about how they weren't tight enough (Oh, they were tight enough) and walks over to find a different pair in his faded tightie-whities. The sight alone near induced vomiting. The man was walking through jean aisles in his underwear! Like what is wrong with some people!? Luckily, he went back in to try on another pair before I had to actually say something. Jeeze.

Tomorrow is pay-day! But that doesn't really matter because my mom is making me pay her a sick amount for going over my limit on my cell phone bill. I still just love pay-day though, makes it all feel worthwhile.

School's going alright. Classes aren't too bad, for the most part they're all right slack except for English. Of course, the only times we have homework in that class anyway are when Mr Killen's not wearing crocs. When he is, he never assigns any! It's been true every single instance now, those things must be damn comfortable I tell you, though I've vowed never to try them on.

Hannah and I went lunch shopping today to Caldwell's and Manchester. I found an adorable Guess wallet that I'll be going back for, and a mat & nat bag. We also found super-cute BCBG girl shoes in our sizes with extreme high heels. Then we headed to the market, making it back to class, ouu, about three minutes late hah.

Sorry to cut this short though everyone, I'm rambling for no apparent reason, and I'd really much rather prefer to go to bed. But expect another post, as in tomorrow. Perhaps something worth reading.

Moving Day

Make the move with me, I've decided to re-name the blog and give it an easier-to-remember address. I'll post the new adress for a week or so before I move it to make sure everyone copies it down. And I'll leave reminders on all my favorite sites.

It's time to bring the piano back.

Edge of Sixteen

We're failing our exams
We're cuffing math class
We're cheating on tests
And expecting to pass

We're sneaking out late
We're drinking strong beer
We know childhood is short
We're beginning to fear

We're tired and hungover
We're hyper, we're high
We're convinced we're immortal
We will never die

We're backstabbing bitches
We're talking of friends
We're beginning relationships
Before other ones end

We're meeting new people
We're forgetting the past
We're ditching our friends
For romances that won't last

We're partying on beaches
We're partying on hills
We're trashing our houses
And cleaning up spills

We're falling in love
We're growing apart
We're mending each cut
In our mistreated hearts

We're burying our friends
We're mourning thier loss
We're blaming someone
Anyone; at any cost

We're silent and sombre
We're crying soft tears
We're opening feelings
And confessing deep fears

We're all friends of some sort
We're all so alike
We're all searching for something
That will somehow feel right

We all still hurt
We all still breathe
We've all still tried drinking
Drugs, maybe weed

We're on the brink of something big
We're on the edge of sixteen
We're all in it together
Waking up from a dream

Someone's Been Eating Carrots

So that's what happens when you put puke-covered towels in the laundry machine. I've always wondered.
Haha! Too funny.

I Know...

You want to hate me. I can see it in your eyes. You wish you could hate me so bad. But at the end of the day, it just can't happen.

You've finally realized we're too much alike.

There there, don't cry too hard.

Hmm

Mom is only happy when there is the prospect of a man on the horizon. The only time she doesn't fight with me is when she is feeling like acting the part of the 'Great Mom' so as to impress future would-be's.

And yet, I seem to hate every single man she brings home. They are all trash and she can't seem to see that. Then this cycle begins when they break her heart and we must deal with terribly bitchy mom once more.

Please lord, don't let this continue the rest of my life ...

Sometimes I want to call my dad, and scream and yell at him that I am mad with him. Im so mad at him, and I don't say anything because I feel bad for him, and I think his life is bad enough at the moment without having his daughter say he is the biggest disspointment in her whole life.

But the truth is, I am mad at him. And what I want to do more than anything is tell him. Scream and yell at him and remind him that he is my father. Not some stranger to see on the streets. He's responsable for us.. and he is sitting back and being a wallflower in the midst of pure hell.

Sometimes I want to just call him and cry and beg that he could at least, for me of course, pretend to be in love with mom again so that she will be happy again and I will have my family back. And then I realize I sound like one of the dumbest, most selfish people on the face of this earth.

So then I wonder what it makes my mom when she wakes up crying for him still?

So Here I Am

And There I go.

I have to admit, keeping up with this thing is a lot harder than it sounds. Much too hard to just sit down in front of the computer anymore and have all these beautiful ideas blossoming forth from my brain. None the less, I do enjoy the feeling of typing something that people will read, whether they like it or not. So, here is my post.

Today is Sunday of a rather boring week. First one of the new term, of which I have the most terrible classes ever. Work-wise they arem, but people wise I must have hit a jackpot because I have at least three good friends in every one. The question is, Can I handle the workload or not? The home report we took home on Friday may be questionable. I went down in two of my major classes, English and Math, but went up by at least 8-10% in all others. Surprisingly, History was by far my best class. Still can't quite figure that one out.

So last night I quit my job. Job? you say. Yes, I had a job. It was actually a pretty decent one too, making more than minimum wage + tips and working with people who I didn't mind too too much. The only problem seemed to be in my hours. Fridays and Saterdays, 6-11:00 or sometimes later. That left me in school monday to friday, working both my weekend nights, leaving me really only Sunday night which is a weeknight almost as well. Another reason for quitting were my new courses this term. I'm taking ones I think are going to require a hell of work and I don't want to be tied down to working on a night that I need to finish a thousand word essay or something of the like.

Also, we're moving into a house. Mom's been approved for the mortgage and all that mumbo jumbo I don't really understand. She's already started looking, and has four at the moment she really likes, two being in grand bay, one on the east side and one in millidgeville. Of the choices, I'd much rather prefer to stay in millidgeville but the chances of that are slim... So long as it is a nice house though and I have my own decently sized room, I shall be okay. We should be moved in by April at the latest.

I wrote this sort of catch-up post in hopes that if I filled everyone in on my life lately that writing more posts would be a bit easier. I'm not sure if this is a likely theory or not, I suppose we shall see.

xox

Leave A Comment...

If you've ever cried yourself to sleep and woken up smiling.

Question...

Is it better to have something and lose it painfully, or to have never experienced having it at all and spend the rest of your life wondering?

Sometimes I wonder what it's all worth. The fighting and such. Why do we even bother? And why is the only advice I get to talk about it. I'm pretty sure that helps no one in situations like this.

I used to consider myself lucky. I suppose I still do to a degree, but hey, if you're reading this, do you? I know you have all these ideal concepts in your mind. They don't seem to fit the picture anymore, do they?

So instead of taking the message to heart, why don't you just fight with me some more.

And don't start with how it's my fault, cus I'm pretty sure I'm the one attempting.

But don't bother attempting yourself. Don't over exert yourself, wouldn't want to have to get off the couch now would we?

Parents! *rolls eyes.*