Cast List

There are so many new people to write about now, but nobody back home knows them. Well, not nobody, but hardly anybody. Therefore, it is time that I make a cast list con picturas galore. Character bios should help.

Megan/Meegz/Megladon

Best friend of two and a half years. Everybody has probably heard me talk about her before. Love this bitch. I cannot imagine how college would be if we hadn't gone to Guilford together. She understands me more than just about anybody (with the exception of Alice, mi hermana). She's from Maryville, TN. We're planning on being roomies next year in Mary Hobbs (classy as fuck all girls upperclassmen dorm). Mary Hobbs has wood floors and awesome antique doorknobs. So psyched. We are also moving to NYC together when we graduate, to act and live and be merry.

Noah

I met Noah my second weekend here at a bonfire (there are drunken bonfires every weekend in the Guilford forest), although I had technically already met him because he lives on my hall. We went to Carolina's Diner at 4 AM and were instant friends. Well, first we were hookups for a couple weeks, but now he's like a brother to me, and it's weird thinking that we were ever hooking up. He's from Danbury, NC; I think that's what it's called. It's pretty nearby. He plays bass in a metalcore band called Sephiroth (geeky, right?). They have shows most weekends, so he's often not here to party with us on Saturday nights. It's not what he plays in the band, but he's a fucking brilliant guitar player, I am so jealous. He ran in high school, and wasn't going to here, but now he is joining the track team. He smokes a ton of pot. Then again, it's Guilford, so that's pretty normal.

Ryan Wroblewski/Baby Ryan/Ry

Ryan Wroblewski is another one of my brothers here at Guilford (I have so many, it is ridick). He also lives on my hall, in the room across from me. We have a shit ton of Ryans here for some reason; just on my hall alone there are three, and that's out of like fifteen people. Because of this, we have to call them other things. For Ryan W, it happened to become "Baby Ryan." He doesn't like that name though, for obvious reasons, so I have been trying very hard not to call him that (to his face). He runs xcountry/track and is from Virginia Beach. He has the most impressive sneaker collection that I have ever seen, it's an obsession. Kinda republican, but I love him anyways. I think he's double majoring in sports management and business.

Zewek

The one in the leather jacket. The guy next to him is James, his roommate (so weird). They live on my hall. Some of you probably know Zewek, like Julie. He's a fellow citizen of the Dirty D. Again, one more of my brothers. He plays rugby and he's silly as fuck. One of the most high-energy people I've ever known. Naturally, he seems to be fairly injury-prone.

Alright, I'm done for the moment being. I'm just going to publish this now, instead of saving it as a draft. I intend to make another installment to the Cast List later today, but there's no knowing, really. After all, this is me.

Love!

Spaceship outside the WIndow

The lights keep flickering. The blinds are dancing up a lovely horror.

When the wind whistles through Bryan it makes a spaceship that you can hear even here in Binford.

It's been a while, people. I have been wanting very much to blog lately, so I am doing so. This will not last. It may be the only time. I do not care.

I am happier than I ever thought I could be. Guilford is a home I have been looking for. Isn't that funny? I have a home outside of convention.

Tomorrow I have my last class of the semester. I can hardly believe that one eighth of my college career is pretty much over. I am afraid to leave college and be out on my own like a real, live grown-up. It is years from now, but nearing quickly.

Of course, I will not be truly alone. Megan and I are moving to NY together after graduation. We have made the executive decision that if, by the time we are thirty-five, we are still not married or in serious relationships, we will get married and adopt a little asian girl. We are assuming that gay marriage will be legal by than. If it is not, then the world is just plain ridiculous.

We'll have to get other roomies too, obviously. We're going to be poor as shit actors. Parker asked me yesterday if he can live with us. He wants to be a politician. I said yes. He is silly.

Yesterday Parker and Sarah were making a sculptey bowl on Jesse's floor (with metal parts, of course). They smoked it later and apparently it really worked. Probably smoked it in Stuart's room.

I spent a lot of my day yesterday sitting on Jesse's bed drawing. I drew pictures of Ryan Joy and Stuart. The one of Stuart was the best. Ryan put his on his fridge with his minute clinic magnet. I smiled.

Will kept looking at me and Ryan Joy oddly yesterday. I think it was because of the combination of our penchant for cuddling and Ryan's having a girlfriend back home. He kept giggling at us.

I guess it is obvious what is going on.

fml.

Actually, what is obvious is probably not even what is true. I am pretty sure that everybody on our hall thinks we are hooking up. We are, in fact, not.

Who knows what the future holds in store, though.

Saturday night, technically Sunday morning, I came back to my room at five AM. Half the lights in the room were on, and Lia was sprawled out on her bed in her clothes, over the covers, face down in her pillow. She looked up a bit after I entered. Without even saying so much as "hello," she looks at me and says "Did you get with Ryan Joy?" Oh, marijuana. Oh, alcohol. Oh, college.

I wrote this yesterday, but Meg came in and so I saved it as a draft. I'll hopefully write another today. Maybe a character guide for the story of my college experience. :)

LOVE!

If I Could Sleep Forever

(title is from the song Sleep by The Dandy Warhols; go listen to it, it's amazing.)

I am in over my head. The play I'm directing is already freaking me out completely, mostly due to Mr. Martin, and it's only been a week; we haven't even begun rehearsing yet. 

I am so weak right now. I didn't start feeling this bad until four fifteen or so. At four fifteen I took a half hour nap. Then around six I went back to bed, and slept until nine. It hurts so badly to walk. My limbs are like jello, but then at the same time they feel like dry old bones. Like those cow bones I used to dig up with my mom and my cousins when I was younger, in the forest behind my grandmother's house. They easily could have been a hundred years old. We would bring them to the ancient gazebo in the woods and pretend to be archaeologists, cleaning them up and displaying them on the gazebo table. They were so dry. There would be pieces chipped off of many of them, and you could see their insides. I can't even explain how it looked, but that's how what I feel like I'm made out of; the insides of old cow bones. 

Once we found a deer skull. It was also really old. Part of the hard outer bone of what I guess you could call the muzzle was broken off, so you could see what was under the bone. It was so strange. I don't quite know what it was...maybe long ago deteriorated cartilage or something. It was basically like tissue paper. Rolls of delicate cream-colored tissue paper. It was truly quite lovely, as morbid as that may sound.

I have to go now, there's this terrible pressure behind my eyes, I can't keep them open any longer.

Until next time, loves.

Tagged

I was tagged by Julie at Candy Hearts to make a poem starting with the second letter of my last name. Sorry it took me forever to do this, I've just been so busy.

Apples float into my head

through the tiny stereo in my ear (its twin is in yours).

I can't see them,

But I feel like

they're probably red.

You say you want to show them to me

because I'm glow-in-the-dark;

We just can't see the dark

in this summer sunshine,

sand between our toes.

I could say the same about you.

There's sunshine straw

that's soft between my fingers

sleeping on your head, slipping over your crown,

and your eyes, 

each a dark little dot

with a pale and bright blue light behind it

pushing around its silhouette

and contained by a fine but strong navy ring,

burn circles into my mind.

I can't see them,

but I feel like

they're probably red.

I tag Adma.

And by Adma I mean Adam.

AAAAAAAAAH

OH DEAR LORD. 

THE JACKET IS BACK IN STOCK!!!!!!!!!!!!

Unfortunately, it's only back in stock in camel and not the navy or black, but it was in medium, and I just ordered it, and I feel like I'm going to die of joy. Seriously. I will die of joy and be buried in that fucking glorious piece of outerwear. It doesn't even show up when you're browsing the urban outfitters website. I was searching for it on google, trying to find somebody selling one secondhand or something. Lo and behold, I came upon a link to the product's page...and it was magically back in stock! My guess is somebody returned one...and I got it!!! Oooh lord...I haven't been this happy in weeks. First a totally amazing episode of BSG, and then the return of what seems to be me in jacket form.

Mmm...everything is beautiful.

:D

I Divorced Him

I facebook divorced him.

I clicked the x next to his name for the first time in four weeks.

I told him what I could

of what is in my head

and he said nothing back.

I said goodbye.

He said nothing back.

That was when I cancelled our relationship

And clicked away his box.

I am trying to feel liberated

but I can not get out of that box

that I just clicked away.

Separation is not organic

for me.

It has always been a conscious decision

Not to play with Barbie dolls anymore

To put my stuffed animals in a bag in the attic

To teach myself to stop being ticklish

To stop watching Dragon Tales

To assume No Contact status

and forget about that person

and that attachment.

I do not grow out of things

and I never have.

It was always more like

I was never a child

just a little adult

who knew what year it was

and when it was time to move

to the next stage in my childhood.

Artificially created childhood.

Yeah.

This afternoon I finished the drawing/painting I started yesterday for Michael. I think I might visit him tomorrow in the hospital and give it to him. Poor kid. 

Always love.

Wishlistin' and Guitar Playin'

I've been making my birthday wishlists online. So far I've done my F21 one and almost finished my UO list. It's actually really fun picking stuff out. Of course, everything I've picked out is clothing...>_<

I want to start writing some music again. My guitar finally has new strings, and it's b-e-a-utiful. I know I'll totally suck when I pick it up again. I have to wait until I have a good chunk of time home alone to play. No way am I playing with other people around to hear me. Not until I get better again. I miss writing and playing my music, as terrible as it is/was.

I went to the new Ikea this weekend and had a panic attack. Then I got carsick on the ride home from Charlotte, and we got stuck in a traffic jam for forty miles. Fun. I did get some cute lace curtains though, finally. 

I wonder if I'll even be able to find any of my picks. I hope I can find my favorite one. It's a thick medium sized clear red plastic one with little holes in it. It's been my favorite since seventh or eighth grade.

My new steel strings are so shiny. They're just glinting at me from the corner of my room. I can't wait to play again.

:)

.

Fuck boys. 

I'm going to go become an atheist lesbian nun.

I'll write a book about it or something.

Meh.

Sorry I haven't been posting.

Not that anybody cares, but neither do I, so it's whatever.

I've been insanely busy with homework and health and whatnot, it's got me completely exhausted. Blogging just takes too much energy sometimes; energy I don't have.

In psychology we're doing psychological disorders.

Problematic?

Most definitely.

Especially with her in the room.

It just brings everything back.

Sometimes I wish people knew what she did to me.

Sometimes I think it's better for their sakes that don't.

I don't think a lot of people could handle that...people want to be happy. I don't want to make them unhappy.

My biggest fear about trying so hard not to tell people about what happened is that if people don't know, then she may very well blindsight them all and do something terrible again. That's just how sociopaths are. I don't know if I could live with the knowledge that I maybe could have prevented somebody getting seriously hurt, emotionally or physically.

Oh lordy lord. I go into entries not intending to be all dark and moody and whatnot, and then it just comes out. Whatever.

In English class we're reading Brave New World. I'm just on the ninth chapter, but I absolutely love it, it's fascinating. Hopefully my interest in the book will help me to bring up my English grade...

Ciao, bellas!

<3

It's demanding to defeat those evil machines.

Hello crunchy children. 

Yesterday I went to the cardiologist. They did an EKG(what else is new), but this time they also did an ultrasound of my heart. It was so weird actually seeing my heart on the screen. There it was, just pumping away in its full black and white glory right before my eyes. The ultrasound technician showed me the chambers of my heart and all. It wasn't really what I expected a heart to look like, it was nothing like the pictures I've seen. 

After wiping all the ultrasound stuff off of my chest, I was set up with a little heart monitor or whatever. The monitor itself was clipped to the waist of my pants, and there were I think five wires coming from it. Each wire had an electrode with gauze at its end and each end was securely taped to my skin somewhere around my chest. Whenever I had an attack or a spell or whatever, I was supposed to press the purple button on the monitor, and then write down the time it happened, the symptoms, and what I had been doing on this chart thing. I couldn't take the little fucker off for 24 hours. So yeah, I had to sleep with this rectangular plastic tumor on my hip and wires across my torso and liberally applied tape irritating my skin. My doctor said that some people have to wear them for thirty days, only taking them off to shower. That would really, really suck. It's impossible to be comfortable wearing it, I can't even imagine wearing it for a month. 

My mom sent my teachers an email about my health. She thought they should probably know why I'm absent so much. I guess they should, but I just don't want to look like some kind of pathetic pansy who can't handle a little pain. I certainly feel pathetic. There are so many people out there who have it so, so much worse than I do. Stupidly enough, I hope my teachers don't look at me differently or strangely on monday. 

I have electrode pictures, maybe I'll post them tomorrow. Maybe not, if I'm too lazy.

peace.

Chanel Spring 2009

Chanel's spring 2009 collection is immaculate. I did like their previous tweed faze, but this...this is the Chanel I love to see. It's all black and white(at least in the show), and everything has these beautiful clean, geometric lines, consistent with the perfectly tailored cuts that Chanel pulls off so well. There are a couple pieces that I'm a little iffy about, but only two or three that have this shinier black almost plastic looking material featured in the outfits. The collection was riddled with cropped jackets, round collars, defined shoulders, simply tiered layers, round mod buttons, tulle and beaded subtle little flowers and frills, lace contrasted with more modern materials, and utter fabulousness. The clothing was drenched in Chanel's classic class, but updated and innovated in ways that I have never seen Lagerfeld work before. Overall, it was clean, fresh, light; everything spring should be.

Today sucked, but I'm home now, so it's whatever.

I'm really excited to get my Delia's order. Ah, the joys of online shopping. New clothing is so exciting...even just one new article of clothing can create like, a gazillion(just an approximation) new outfits. If only I wasn't so awful at sewing my own stuff. Oh well. I'm especially excited about getting this dress and these shoes.

In other news, I've had terrible writer's block ever since we started fiction in WtL. I don't know how I'm going to crank out a couple pages by monday...I don't even have an idea to work off of yet. On the overall creative front, however, I do have a photography project planned, and I'll probably start working on it this weekend. I don't really know how to explain it, and if I try, it will just sound stupid, so I won't...but I still can't wait to do it. :)

See you kids on the flip side.

<3

Shangri-la

All I want to do right now

is go to Shangri-la

in Yanceyville

and lie on my back in the grass between the white quartz buildings

in the darkness of early nighttime

and feel the rain on my face.

Then the pouring rain

will turn the ground to soft mud

and I will sink into it

inside the earth,

forever a part of a miniature world

that means peace

and simplicity

in a world of highways.

The stone that has sat at the foot of the sign

in the front of the little village

for over thirty years

says "Let me live in a house by the side of the road and be a friend to man."

That stone

will be my tombstone

because when I am dead

I want to live in a house

by the side of the road

and be a friend to man.

I don't know, that's just how I'm feeling right now.

Neurotic Bugs

I did not sleep at all last night.

I am somewhat doubtful that I will be able to tonight.

The bugs won't stop crawling.

At least it gives me something to write my awful poetry about.

If you can even call it that.

I just want some Vallium or something.

Anything to stop my current period of neurotic mania.

I just want to be able to lie down and sleep without these little hallucination bugs crawling all over me.

In other news, we're doing fiction in Writing through Lit, and it is brutally kicking my ass. I seriously sound like a middle schooler when I write short stories. I am NOT looking forward to having to share with the class. 

On a lighter note, here's Adam in a dress (September 2004).

Kinky Boots

I'm watching the movie Kinky Boots.

Obviously, that made me think of drag queens.

Then thinking about drag queens made me think of a fucking awesome job...

Professionally dragging people out.

Oh my God, that would be SO fucking fun.

I <3>

If I were a guy, I would probably be one...I'm not so huge on female drag, but drag queens, I love.

Ru Paul is FIERCE.

Always There

He is always there, in the back of my mind and my heart, on the soles of my feet, the back of my neck, my ribcage, my hipbone.

I have been doing better lately, I have not been thinking about him nearly as much. I still think about him every day, but it isn't every half hour.

I had the dream again last night. I was so hoping I would not have it this month, but I guess it was inevitable, especially with Valentine's Day just around the bend. I cannot remember how long it has been since I have gone a month without having the dream. Jesus, could it be a year now? I guess so...damn. Wow.

I hate it when we talk about repressed/suppressed memories in psychology. I hate how the people in the textbook or on the videos, or even Mr. Magrinat, say that memory repression hardly ever exists, and it's kind of a myth, a psychological misconception born from Freud. They haven't experienced it. They don't know what it's like to suddenly one day remember the death of the person you loved, to remember that that person even existed, after years of repression. So fuck you, people who say that stuff. It's not really your fault, but it still hurts.

I hate when people make fun of suicide and SI. I hate that sometimes I do, too. Maybe I am just trying to play it all off. I don't know. All I know is that they are all afraid. So, so afraid. That's why they joke. They're afraid, but they don't even realize it. God, if they had seen what I saw, they would realize their fear. His gun, his blood, his pills, the note he left behind for me...but I would never wish that upon anybody. I would never wish for anybody to see that every day in their mind, to dream about that blood every fucking month.

No, that's not true.

I would wish it upon his parents, in a heartbeat.

Where do you draw the line between suicide and murder?

Jesus Christos, that was a fucking annoyingly angsty post. If anybody for some strange reason read any of this, sorry to waste your time. I have not left my house in days due to sickness, and I'm getting a little stir-crazy. >_<

Hasta la vista, bitches.

:)

Conflicted, Afflicted

I am conflicted.

It is about a boy. 

What else is new?

I feel that I may be in grave danger of once again repeating the same mistakes I always make. I may be in danger of settling for someone, and not even knowing it.

I feel so strongly for Mika, and I want him so badly. I cannot help it, truly. My heart cannot be stopped by the fact that he is so dreadfully out of my reach.

This other boy, this new boy, is very different from Mika. For one, he likes me. I do not mean to be vain in saying so, but it is fairly obvious. I am so weak when it comes to flattery;mostly, I suppose, due to the way I was treated and seen, especially physically, for so long. This weakness sometimes tends to make me think that I have feelings for somebody, which gets me into trouble not long after starting something with that person. I lose my attraction to them just as quickly as it was born.

And then I end up hurting people.

We are similar, I suppose. We both do not do any drugs, except for moderately drinking and the occasional cig, if you count that, because we have both learned our lessons. We both love art. We went to school together for a couple years. We both like dorky sci-fi, and he is one of the few people I have met who has watched and loved Firefly and Serenity. Most importantly, we have both known loss. We have both lost friends to tragically premature death. I don't know, it means a lot to me when people know what that is like, because it is truly not the kind of thing you can just understand through any kind of explanation. 

I do not think he is as bad as people seem to think he is.

People say he is trouble.

I was a bit afraid of him at first,

but now I realize;

I am the trouble here.

I am the threat to him.

I do not like being so dangerous.

I probably seem so ridiculous and annoying and disgustingly self-important and conceited when I tell people what I am. I must seem like an open book who thinks other people care about my stupid personal shit or whatever, because I am so forthcoming with the facts that I am bipolar, and that I have experienced a lot of crazy, terrible things. I suppose they do not realize that I am trying to warn them;I am trying to protect both them and myself. A lot of people are afraid of people like me, with problems like I have. I do not want anybody to grow close to me and then find out the truth, and go running. I do not want anybody to go into a relationship (whether it be friendship or something "more"), without the knowledge of what they are getting themselves into. The pain will be worse for us all if we do not see it coming. If we, or they, rather, do not see it coming, it cannot, will not, be prevented, and everybody will hurt.

Agh.

Maybe when I go to college, I will pretend I do not have these problems.

Who knows?

Megan

She is not strong

Because of the sarcastic wit

with which she speaks.

She is not strong

because of the sea foam eyes

that are a magnet to those around her.

She is not strong because she's...

Queen bee

Singing with a power in her voice.

Contrary to popular belief,

she is not strong because

she laughs off things that remind her

of the abandonment of a father who left,

or because when she coughs into a paper towel,

Then checking it for blood,

She jokes about the fact 

that with a simple case of mono,

she may literally cough up her lungs. 

No...

She is strong

Because

When we are alone

in our dorm at night

She cries,

for fear

That she is not.

My tenth or eleventh poem so far for my long-term Writing through Literature project. I'm writing a series of portrait poems. This one's about my best friend, Megan. God, I miss that bitch.

<3

ill

I am deathly ill.

Agh, I hate being sick.

Too bad i get sick like every week.

My throat and lungs are on fire, my spine is shooting pain through my entire body, and my chest and abs are ridiculously sore from all this coughing.

I probably won't be able to go to school tomorrow.

What else is new?

All I can say now is...thank God for Halls cough drops. 

Seriously.

Poetry Drains and Fills

I wrote a lot of poetry today. I've been trying to face the parts of my past that I don't tell people about, using poetry. Today I actually made some progress. It was draining though. I talked about him for pretty much the first time ever. Yeah, I've mentioned him before. I have told my therapist just briefly, once, a couple years ago what happened. Even then, I almost vomited just saying the words. I've mentioned it to Megan. I don't think there was anybody else. Maybe. Either way, I have never once told anybody the details, the story, the things that make it disgusting and horrifying. In my poetry, I always hide the truth behind metaphors and obscurity. I have to stop, I have to try to tap into the truth I've been hiding. God, but it leaves me so dead and tired...worth it? Yes. All of it.