Last one guys, I swear

I know I'm committing the repeat offense of posting already-written works because I don't have enough to say, but I promise, this is the LAST ONE. There WILL be a proper post, with stolen dialogue and everything, next time. And besides, wouldn't you rather I post short stories and whatnot than not blog at all? ;)

Happy 4th of July, everyone! :)

~4^th of July weekend 2011~

It’s nearly ten o’clock but the sky isn’t quite dark yet,

the sunset obscured by dark-purple clouds

like sinister cotton candy.

I sit on the front porch with my father,

both of us barefoot,

breathing in the humid post-storm air

as we watch the fireworks.

It’s cooled considerably since noon,

when we went into the backyard

and threw ourselves into the pool headfirst,

ignoring the cloudy water and slimy bottom.

“It’s not making chlorine,” my mother warned us.

But she came in too, because it was so

unbearably, ridiculously, incredibly

almost surprisingly hot.

We laid on pool loungers that wouldn’t inflate properly,

sweating through our sunscreen,

until we couldn’t bear it any longer and flipped into the water.

After a dinner of leftovers, my parents went for a walk

while I sat in the kitchen

and watched the sunset

and read books, lots of books,

the smell of my mother’s homemade pound cake filling the house.

Now I sit on the porch with Dad

watching, waiting, but not knowing what I’m waiting for.

“Let’s go for a walk,” I say, and stand up.

He takes my hand and we walk across the wet grass

and into the street.

Fireworks burst all around us,

some of them smaller ones that shoot straight into the sky like comets,

others bigger and more explosive,

bursting on impact and letting loose showers of sparks and stars.

Other than the fireworks, this could be any other night.

But on any other night I would hate my neighborhood,

I would be embarrassed to bring my friends here,

to this deceptively perfect place, this Camazotz of sorts,

this place where we pretend bad things don’t exist.

Tonight I don’t care.

Tonight, I walk through the streets

holding my father’s hand

and wondering if maybe, just maybe,

I should have given this town a chance.

How's This, Mr. Ginsberg?

So this is going to be another writing collection post...nothing's really happening around here at the moment, so unless you want to hear about how I FINALLY nailed that one tricky dance from my Jump5 dancercise video, this is what we've got to work with.

~Girl in the Back~

(poem...and this one is fairly old...excuse the awkward rhymes)

I am lost in the middle of the crowd

Can't hear my own voice it's too damn loud

No one thinks I'm worth talking to

And once again I'm stuck here without a clue

Thought I had friends but they're ignoring me

Guess I was wrong when I said I had everything

I'm the useless piece of paper at the bottom of the stack

No one wants to deal with the girl in the back

Five months to go and I just want to get out

Go home, where I've got nothing to cry about

I'll run back to Daddy; be my mama's little girl

I'm happiest in my private corner of the world

Thought I had it all, but they turned into jerks

Could be lonely instead of angry, I guess that works

Wish I could be fearless but my armor has a crack

I know I can't be the only girl in the back

Some day they'll see they can't ignore me anymore

And then they'll wonder why they didn't see me before

Someday I'll come out and be the leader of the pack

But for now, I'm content to be the girl in the back

You can ignore me all you want but I'll never care

I'm going to be somebody, I'm going to get somewhere

And when you're working in McDonald's--or worse

I'll be in the sky, riding a wave of colored starbursts

~After Hours~

(poem written my sophomore year)

I used to live life on my own time

Now I'm stuck in a living nightmare

No time to myself, every minute has to count

I tell you, burning Hell can't compare

But late at night, that's when I live

As Miller said it, I can't sleep for dreaming

Lie quiet and still, I'm girl uninterrupted

Until my clock brings me home by screaming

I'm supposed to be asleep but that's okay

I'd rather have this precious time to breathe

If I didn't have imagination I would go insane

I need these hours when I can just be me

I only want nighttime, I don't need the day

When the lights go down, my real life begins

After hours, that's when fantasies come alive

And you know how dreams can be our friends

Better to be lonely than be overstretched

Socializing's fine, but I'm happy on my own

If I needed more friends, I go out and search

But like I said, it's better for me to be alone

Forgiven Them

(lyrics written in my sophomore year)

I am not alone, and I am not unloved

But sometimes I can't help but feel that way

When I'm by myself, sometimes I feel sad

But it always disappears by the next day

(chorus)

And maybe I'm clingy, sometimes I try too hard

But I refuse to settle for counterfeit friends

Yet somehow at the same time every day

I realize that I've forgiven them again

Do you know how it feels to be the odd one out?

To wish someone kept you in their heart

Do you ever think that if you go on like this

You might end up getting torn apart

(chorus 2)

And you know you're not clingy, you don't try too hard

And you know you can't settle for counterfeit friends

Yet somehow at the same time every day

You realize that you've forgiven them again

Are you stuck in the dark, just like me?

Yes I know you feel just like that sometimes

Are you waiting to break out with me?

Let's take the high road and break out of line

(chorus 3)

Because we are not clingy, we don't try too hard

No, we will not settle for counterfeit friends

And tomorrow you and I will stick close together

They'll see we haven't forgiven them again

No we will never forgive them again

~Spring Night Crisis~

(lyrics written about my senior prom)

Can someone tell me how I'm supposed to feel?

Six months and I still can't tell which end is up

Sometimes I swear I can feel what you're thinking

Sometimes you swear I'm just crazy enough

Can someone tell me where I'm supposed to be?

At a Masquerade saving the last dance for you

Six months flying by at the speed of sound, oh God

I'm ready but I don't know what I'm supposed to do

I took your hand said 'Come with me into the night'

And we'd forgotten if we were wrong or right

Cliché feelings going with innocent teenage flings

Freshly breaking hearts and cheesy promise rings

(Chorus)

Here we are eighteen forgetting where we have to go

We are a spring night crisis falling into the starry sky

Once in a while you wonder if I'm still in love with you

Once in a while I think I might now the reason why

Here we are eighteen forgetting who we have to be

We are a spring night crisis inside a bubble of glass

Our time together is a crystal hourglass of flames

Our time together is a storm that will never pass

Can someone tell me what I'm supposed to say?

It's hard to speak when you take away my breath

And it's hard to feel when Novocain takes your heart

It's impossible to say good-bye to so many friends

Can someone tell me who I'm supposed to be?

It would be so easy to define myself through you

Can't you give me time to pull myself together

Let me win the game just when I'm about to lose

You took my hand said 'Come here dance with me'

You took my soul and promised to set it free

When can I reclaim the part of me I left behind

Why the hell can't we find a way to turn back time?

(chorus)

Can someone tell me what I already know?

I have to find a way to make myself let you go

(chorus)

(Chorus 2)

Here we are eighteen forgetting where they said to go

We are a spring night crisis falling into the open sky

Once in a while you understand that I'm in love with you

Once in a while I swear I truly know the reason why

Here we are eighteen forgetting who we'll never be

We are a spring night crisis and I'm in the party dress

Our time together was a crimson neon light

Our time together was nothing but the best

Our time together was nothing but the best

Our time together was nothing but the best

~March 10, 2009~

(poem for Writing About War project)

It starts with a piece of paper

and a blue locker.

A scrap of notebook paper

as innocuous as a snowflake

against the dark-blue metal

at seven forty-four AM.

Who would guess that note contained a death threat?

Two words--two little words--

each of them three letters--

D-I-E and F-A-G.

Two little words

that the teachers pretend don't exist.

Ten-thirty AM, normally it's so loud here

but now we all sit motionless

waiting for something to happen.

Half the school is in class,

but half of us are sitting here, waiting.

Two of us sit on the edge, away from our friends

actively avoiding the center of the room.

We know it's going to happen.

We just don't know when.

At ten thirty-six, it begins.

The writer of the note throws the first punch,

striking the boy he threatened.

Within five minutes, twelve kids have bloody noses.

Out of the five hundred inside the cafeteria,

only three of us think to go for help.

We edge away, towards the library,

the rest of them too busy hurting each other

to notice us slip away.

By the time the deans arrive

the count has risen to eighteen bloody noses

and thirty-four various other injuries.

Seven are expelled.

Nineteen are suspended.

Last week, when one girl cheated at a quiz bowl

it made the papers.

This won't.

(next post contains the short story...it was too long for this post, but it goes along with the WAW poem)

April Showers Kick My Ass

The title of this post was brought to you by Stolen Dialogue.

So...it's that time again, when I can't think of anything I specifically want to write about, so instead I'm going to post a collection of little bits and pieces of my writing. Mainly poetry, because at the moment I'm in a bit of a fiction block (a.k.a., every piece of fiction I write is virtually terrible and I'd be embarrassed to post it). So, here are a few of my latest attempts at creative writing.

'Fearless Vampire Killers'

[Note: This was what I read the first time I ever did a reading, at a Coffeehouse performance my first year at Interlochen.]

Forgive me if I repeat myself

It’s just that you distract me and I can’t remember what I’ve already said.

I love spending time with you

But I hate that you don't know why.

But I know that if I told you, you'd laugh at me

So I keep silent, and all I do is wish.

I wish I could be beautiful for you

I wish you saw me the way I saw you

I wish I wasn’t so awkward around you

And I wish I were one of the Fearless Vampire Killers

Because then I wouldn’t be afraid of anything

And I wouldn’t be afraid to tell you this to your face.

I’m sorry that I’m such a freak

And I’m sorry that I love you.

'Goodnight Heaven'

Goodnight, Heaven.

I’ve been waiting all day to see You.

Goodnight, Heaven.

Take me home tonight, when the moon is overhead

And everything is quiet and reassuring.

Goodnight, Heaven.

When You present to me the black curtain of the sky

Flecked with the glitter of stars,

I will take Your beauty home with me.

Goodnight, Heaven.

You are peaceful and beautiful and mine.

Every person in the world looks to Heaven

And finds their own piece of Heaven

And claims it for their own.

Goodnight, Heaven.

You made me believe again.

Goodnight, Heaven.

I thank You, forever and always.

“Fake Cigarette”

It was my first time smoking—or pretending to smoke.

I didn’t want to smoke,

but when she offered the fake cigarette I took it,

because I wanted to be sophisticated, like her.

She was older than me by exactly six months

and she always wore lipstick

and black, lots of black, and dark-red diabolical high heels.

I wanted to be like her.

It was the very beginning of November.

Outside it was gray and cold, as we knew only too well

because we had just walked to the store hours earlier,

to get coffee and energy drinks and various forms of sugar.

and we were sitting together in the library,

planning for National Novel Writing Month,

writers, beatniks, the “crazy ones,” just us, no outsiders.

And I wanted to be like her,

so I was wearing red lipstick and a black fedora

straight from a 1920s gangster film,

and I was drinking heavily-sugared coffee

while I pretended to smoke that fake cigarette.

I still have that cigarette, puckered at one end

and stained with red lipstick,

the veteran of many attempts to look cool.

I wanted to impress her, so I wore a black leather jacket

that I pretended was from a vintage store

but I really got it off the clearance rack at Target

and saddle shoes that I pretended were real

but were really from a costume shop

and red lipstick, always red lipstick.

I drank coffee from the school cafeteria at every meal

even though I hated the taste.

That night, on the first day of National Novel Writing Month,

was my first taste of real coffee,

not cafeteria coffee, but real coffee

that didn’t taste like dirt mixed with coffee creamer.

I turned to her, fake cigarette in my mouth, coffee in hand,

and said that I felt like a proper beatnik now.

Her reply was so predictable I could have said it along with her:

“Ist gut, ja? I have done my job now, mein schatz.”

'Misunderstanding'

She remembers his eyes.

His big, sweet brown eyes, precisely the same color as her best friend’s.

The kind of eyes that no one can really resist, especially not her.

She remembers the soft brown bed-head and the God-awful ski hat he wore when the snow first came.

She remembers his gentle smile

and the way his teeth sank into his lower lip when he was embarrassed.

She remembers the way he would look at her,

like she was someone worth seeing, someone worth loving,

and he always knew just when to look at her this way,

when her dreams were crashing around her and she needed to be loved.

He cared, and she will never forget it.

He remembers her voice.

Her distinct voice, the voice he would recognize in a crowd of a thousand.

The kind of voice no one can forget, even when they’re a hundred years old.

He remembers the long, loose curls, and that stupid pink scarf that made her look like Dolores Umbridge.

He remembers the smell of her perfume

and the hot-pink lipstick she wore when she needed a confidence boost.

He remembers the way she would look at him,

like he was the smartest, bravest person she could imagine,

and she always knew just when to look at him this way,

when he was vulnerable and he desperately needed a friend.

She was his friend, and he loved her.

“I’ll never want you.”

When she first said this it was reassuring, in a strange kind of way.

It meant things between them would never be awkward or uncomfortable.

It meant that no matter what happened there was the understanding that they were friends and nothing more.

But then they were alone together

and for the first time he realized that she was, in fact, a girl.

And now she was looking at him differently,

like he was her Prince Charming, her fairy tale,

and she knew this was the worst time to look at him this way,

when his guard was down and he wouldn’t push her away.

He had a choice to make.

“I’m sorry, I can’t.”

Her eyes burned with tears when she heard those four terrible words.

Those words meant the destruction of something she could never get back.

Those words meant that in a moment of weakness, she had destroyed something incalculably precious.

She ran away then, away from him

and tried to stop herself from crying harder than she’d ever cried before.

And he didn’t follow her when she ran,

because in that moment he knew he couldn’t stop her,

and he knew she would not forgive him,

and they both knew nothing would ever be the same.

All because of a misunderstanding.

'He’s A Rockstar'

[Note: This is a nonfiction essay written about meeting my idol, Ronnie Winter, at a concert with my dad. This is also the essay that inspired the title and theme of my senior thesis film.]

So it’s after midnight, I think, I don’t really know. What I do know is that I’m in the Agora Ballroom in Cleveland, Ohio, and it’s late, and the entire place smells like cigarette smoke and beer and sweat. Earlier I carefully straightened my hair and did my makeup, but now you can’t tell that I did anything because I’m such a mess from dancing and screaming and singing along for the past two hours. About an hour ago, someone chose to throw their beer over the railing above us so that a bunch of us were splattered, so even though I haven’t ingested a drop of alcohol I smell like I’ve just taken a bath in a keg.

Beside me, my dad scans the crowd. Everyone is moving for the exit and it’s literal human traffic from here to the door. “I think we’re going to be awhile,” he warns me.

I look around. He’s right. The entire club is a mass of bodies; we can’t move without stepping on each other. So Dad leads me back to the ballroom/concert venue, where we just watched Red Jumpsuit Apparatus perform, along with three bands I’d never heard of before. The floor is sticky with alcohol and grime. The place smells like it hasn’t been cleaned in ages. But the pink and yellow lights make the entire room seem to glow, and right now I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.

I run across the dance floor and spread my arms wide, laughing and twirling like a little girl pretending to be a ballerina. “Shake it, break it, get off your feet, come dance with me,” I sing, quoting a line from a song we’ve just heard. My pink Saucony sneakers stick to the floor with every step, making a squelching sound that is vaguely reminiscent of a whoopee cushion.

Dad reaches out and catches my arm. “Come on, you. We might as well go now, it’s cleared up a little.”

I stop dancing and give him a reproachful look. “I don’t want to leave yet.” The drummer from Anafair, one of the opening bands and, in my opinion, much better than the other two, emerges from behind the stage. “I want to ask him for an autograph,” I say, thinking that I really want an autograph from the lead singer of Red Jumpsuit Apparatus but knowing that I will never, ever get that.

Dad shakes his head. “No, you don’t. Come on, we need to get going.” He puts his arm around me and steers me away from the dance floor.

Reluctantly I allow myself to be dragged along, through the crowd, until Dad looks at me, smiles, and says, “There he is.”

“Who?” I ask blankly. The thought that it might be Ronnie Winter never crosses my mind.

But then I look up, and, as Dad put it, there he is.

From the moment I heard Ronnie Winter’s voice on Don’t You Fake It, screaming and belting through the punk-rock anthems and then gliding through softer ballads, I fell in love. The themes of his lyrics—don’t give up, fight for change, love and be loved, don’t be afraid, be strong, be loyal to those you love and, most importantly (in my opinion anyway), don’t be a douchebag—spoke to me in ways that Kelly Clarkson and Green Day never could. From the outset, I loved his band and I loved him.

And then I found out about his past and it made me love him more. Ronnie Winter grew up in turmoil, with alcoholic, drug-addicted, abusive parents and siblings to take care of, little support from his family and nowhere to turn for help. He fought alcoholism in college and worked the night shift at Wal-Mart to put himself through school. And he pulled through all of this and became, in my opinion, an amazing person.

So to see him this close to me, literally feet away, is not only a shock, but the most amazing gift Fate could possibly hand me.

I fish in my pocket for my ticket stub, gibbering frantically to my dad the entire time—"Oh my God I don’t believe this, I can’t believe he’s doing this, he’s so sweet, you’d never see the Jonas Brothers doing this, oh my God where’s my Sharpie, Dad do you have the camera?"—and then it’s here, I’m standing in front of him, and he is smiling at me, and for a split second I wonder if I’ll wake up and still be in the car on the long drive from Oxford to Cleveland.

Ronnie is taller than me. Well, no kidding, everyone is taller than me, but he’s really taller than me, by about a foot. He looks much younger in person than he does on CD covers and in magazines, all light-brown hair and sweet dark-brown eyes, a kind smile on his thin face.

I think he says something to my dad, but I don’t know what. I just stare at him for a second, and then wordlessly shove my ticket stub into his hands. He signs it, still smiling, and I blush and finally manage to squeak out a word: “Hi.”

This is what being so close to him does to me. There is so much I want to tell him, starting with, “You are my hero,” and ending with, “Your music makes high school bearable,” and yet all I can manage is “Hi.” I can tell that my dad, who knows full well that I rarely, if ever, shut up, is wondering who the hell I am and what I have done with his talkative daughter.

It’s then that I feel the notebook in my back pocket and remember something. I pull it from my pocket and hand it to Ronnie. “My—my best friend—couldn’t come tonight,” I stammer. “Can you sign—this?—I want to bring it back to her.”

“Of course!” He smiles at me yet again. That smile—I can only wish my smile were that warm, that friendly, that nice. “What’s her name?”

I tell him her name, and he signs the notebook. My dad holds up the camera, and offers to take our picture. I realize what this means and almost scream: Ronnie Winter is going to put his arm around me. He does, slipping a thin arm around my shoulders and indicating that I should put my arm around his waist. I am only too glad to do so. He’s skinnier than I would’ve thought, and it’s only when he gasps that I realize I’m holding on too tight.

Click!

Dad snaps the picture. I have to let go of Ronnie, for a minute I don’t think I will, I don’t want to. But I do, because I have to, and with one last sweet smile he turns away from me.

I don’t want to let him go yet, don’t want to share him with the other fans. “Ronnie?”

He turns back to me.

“I really, really love ‘False Pretense,’” I tell him, naming my favorite Red Jumpsuit Apparatus song.

It’s not much. It can’t scratch the surface of how much I love his music, how I could live on his music, how badly I want to be like him.

But it’s enough for now.

He looks back to me, still smiling away—does he ever stop?—and replies, “I love that one too. Did you like hearing it live?”

“Yes!” I practically shriek, and, laughing, he turns away, to sign a t-shirt for another female fan.

Dad takes my hand and leads me away, and I’m so happy as we walk out the door that I am literally skipping. Outside it is freezing cold—it's January in Cleveland, and almost everything is covered in a paper-thin sheet of nearly invisible ice. And yet I skip along, so happy I barely notice the cold. My jacket is in the car and I'm wearing a t-shirt. I don't care. It could start snowing—and, if it keeps up like this, it probably will—and I wouldn't care. Right now, I am literally so happy that I wouldn't notice the apocalypse.

On Monday I will have to go back to school, where I will be called every four-letter-word known to man, where I will be insulted and told I am “pathetic” or “a loser” because I like school and I don’t have sex with anything that moves. I will endure a teacher who I think must have a PhD in Asshole Behavior instead of Education. I will endure student deans who think they own the world and condescend to me as if I were nothing more than a stupid child.

I don’t care. Ronnie wouldn’t let them bother him, and neither will I.

STOLEN DIALOGUE

"I was a very curvaceous Justin Bieber."

"You're the badass, Mr. Udell!"

Person one: Where's my singing partner?

Person two: Oh, she left.

Person one: Aww, I wanted to get pictures of us in our costumes!

Person three: Don't worry, they were unforgettable.

Person one: Oh my God, your dad is so nice!

Person two: Were you expecting otherwise?

Person one: I need to kiss his ass for awhile, see if anything comes of it.

Person two: Gosh...oh wait, I thought you meant that literally...

"On a scale of one to unacceptable...that's like a Rosie O'Donnell."

"You sound like a drunk Oompa-Loompa!"

(to a student using a film he edited in a presentation)

Teacher: How's that for kissing ass?

Person one: How's the editing going?

Person two: I'm slowly forgetting what sunshine looks like...but I'm getting a lot done so it's all good.

Person one: Yeah, 'cause it's not like humans need sun or anything.

Person two: Yeah, I know, right? It's not like I'm a plant; I can't do photosynthesis.

(in an editing workshop)

Person one: The head-exploding cut didn't work.

Person two: That's because you'd have to cut to something else exploding.

Person three: Okay, how about an exploding squirrel?

Person two: Well, no, because then you're saying their love is like an exploding squirrel.

"You're too short to be a serial killer."

Person one: Does this look weird to you?

Person two: That you...have skin?

Person one: I love you.

Person two: Your hands are freezing...but I love you too.

"I don't want you to die and get fed to the evil swans in the ornamental lake."

"Oh God...he's like the Creature from the Existentialist Lagoon. His pigheadedness and asshattery just keeps growing exponentially as the semester goes on."

STAY TUNED for my next epic blog post, which will feature a new, well, feature...it shall be called "Artist as Badass" (points to all who get the Interlochen reference) and will showcase some of my fellow awesomesauce indie artists...if you like hilariousness, awesomeness, and independent film, you will love this. I promise.

Out of the darkness, I'm coming alive

This is a collection of poetry and song lyrics I've written over the last year...

Poetry:

“Four A.M. on October 30”

Don’t know why I’ve made

The choices that have led me here

I’m within inches of giving up

I don’t want to give in to fear

I can’t be who they want

Sometimes I wonder why I try

I hate being stuck like this

When the only way out is to lie

I’m afraid I’ve messed up again

And I just want to hear her say

“It’s okay, sweetheart, Mommy’s here

Mommy’s going to save the day”

Haven’t slept at all tonight

I’ve been dreading what’s to come

Knowing that I’m messing up

Wanting comfort and finding none

Just another hopeless burnout

When I thought that I could shine

It doesn’t matter who I am

It’s what I do, that’s how I’m defined

"Learn to Heal"

I’ve had it with their games

And I’ve had it with them all

They’ll never understand

And I can’t make them understand

Who do you think you are

Making like I’m beneath you

Acting like I don’t matter

When I’m the one who will shine forever

And you will burn out, you will fade

Because I have what you don’t

I want this more than you will ever know

It is me, it is every cell of my body

With every breath I want it more

And you want what it offers

But you don’t want it

You will never want it the way I do

I’ll have things you can’t imagine

I love life with all I’ve got

You skim the surface, you play it safe

A fake risk-taker, that’s you—

You hold your cards tight

Play them close to your chest

You will never know the agony and the ecstasy

You don’t understand how or why

The world moves when you’re happy

Or slows when you’re sad

You don’t understand this, and you never will

And I’m here, I’m alive, like you can't be

Because I know that agony leads to ecstasy

I know that we bleed so that we can learn to heal.

"Red Lipstick"

I only recently started wearing red lipstick.

(The time I went as the Joker for Halloween doesn’t count.)

At first I didn’t notice anything different

until I kissed my friend on the cheek

and left a bright red lip print where I kissed her.

We thought it was so funny.

In return, she left her lipstick mark on my cheek,

and after that it became a joke

among our friends to leave “lip prints” on each other’s faces.

And that was all well and good until

I realized that there was one friend—

if you can even call it that—

who would never get a lipstick kiss from me, and that’s you.

I watched you all day in class today and

I thought it would be so much fun

to kiss you on the cheek and leave my mark.

But I didn’t, because that would just be silly.

Because then everyone would know,

and the magic would just disappear.

There’s something so magical about loving

someone who thinks you’ve got a screw loose.

Someone mysterious, someone weird.

Someone who can understand that not everything

in this world needs to have a point.

Did you know I kissed her? Did you?

Do you know I love you even though I never

see you because we’re so far apart

in more ways than one? Did you know

that I loved you the minute I looked at you?

Do you know just how badly I want to mark

your pale skin with my bright red lipstick?

Song lyrics:

"Awkward Breakup Song"

August was perfect, we were best friends

September the whirlwind brought in the rift

October I lost you to colleges and tests

November sweet seventeen we started to drift

And forgetting can be so painful

But remembering is that much worse

Used to think life couldn't be harder

Used to think that I was cursed

Nothing hurts like losing first love

And I think you needed to hear when I said

"I'm yours forever, don't leave me now"

Or if you knew I might just be your friend

If Sunday morning finds me in a white church

Saturday finds me partying all night

And if Monday I cry one last time for you

Tuesday will work out everything all right

Chorus:

Emotional words and intricate moments

I wish they didn't all think I was a loner

But catch me years later and you will find

All I really needed was a bit of time

The campus turned white and I lost my way

Winter lasts too long in North Michigan

It took so much time for me to turn around

But now Spring is coming, when new lives begin

And if I am foolish and can't fall out of love

I'll tear up your letters and burn the shreds

Dance until morning like no one's watching

Run straight into the arms of my new best friends

Find a party on campus, music up so loud

It can block out every memory of me and you

Scream so loud but no one has to hear me

And listen to rain falling I laugh far too soon

And I lose myself in them when I am there

I forget your touch right then that's okay

But when it comes to morning I'll cry again

When it's nighttime once more I will pray

Chorus

Met someone in Alliance with pretty pink hair

When somebody told me you'd never be there

And forgetting in time that you couldn't hear

I found myself screaming for all the wasted tears

And if I cling to you you in my sleep

Dreaming of those things you said to me

Remembering moments and whispered words

I'll forget they don't need to be heard

And I forget about you

You and your

Chorus

"Afraid of You"

You ask me what I’d do

I say I’d die for you

You say I am frightened

But you know it’s not the truth

You ask me what I’d say

I say I know it’s okay

You say I am too young

But you’ve come here anyway

Tell me what you need from me

You see I’m not afraid to bleed

Put my heart into your hands

Hope one day you’ll understand

That I am not afraid of you

I am not afraid of you

I am not afraid of you

I’m afraid of losing you

Chorus:

Take me into the twilight

Teach me to be like you

Take me into the moonlight

Take me straight on through

And when we find the morning star

Take me hold me in your arms

When midday comes with sky so blue

Tell me you know I am not afraid of you

You ask me if I would lie

I say I would never try

You say I am naïve

But you know I won’t cry

You ask if I understand

I say I know that I can

You say I am not in love

But you know it’s in God’s plan

Tell me that you know it’s real

You see it’s my heart you will steal

Wishing, praying, clasping my hands

Hoping someday you will understand

And I am not afraid of you

I am not afraid of you

I am not afraid of you

I’m afraid of losing you

Chorus

They say that you’ll hurt me

I say you’d never try

They say you’ll abandon me

I say, they think that why?

You say that you’re a danger

But I think it’s the other way around

They are trying to hurt you

They’ll never bring you down!

Tell me what you need from me

You see I’m not afraid to bleed

Put my heart into your hands

Now I know you understand

Chorus

"Deep Inside You"

[Note: If you can follow the changing "points of view" in this song and accurately guess its meaning, you will have my undying respect.]

Poor innocent thing, don't look for the truth

Hide inside yourself, pretend you know your life

Don't think twice when you say "I love you"

It's okay that you don't want to say good-bye

He'll look at her and say she's the one

You can laugh it off as you take your girl home

Now your friends say you're so damn lucky

But you know you might as well be all alone

And she knows every time she says, “kiss me”

A little part of you dies

She knows your heart's breaking

Baby you are living a lie

Chorus 1:

She doesn't like it when you scream that name

She can't take it she knows it's not her game

You tell her you don't need to know the truth

She knows the secrets you're holding deep inside you

Tell her the truth it's not like that, you see

He wants her like she wants a bullet in the head

He never hated her but she's not what he needs

But it's not like that, he can live like this instead

He wants to be in your arms late at night yeah

You can't know it's hard to be in this state

You're waiting too long, take him right now

That girl's not naive she knows that it's too late

And she knows every time she says, “kiss me”

A little part of him dies

She knows his heart's breaking

He is living a lie

Chorus 2:

She doesn't like it when he screams your name

She can't take it she knows it's not her game

He'll tell her she don't need to know the truth

She knows the secrets you're holding deep inside you

You see him come to you late at night yeah

And you're in a situation that you both hate

You see them together you know you're not his

You're not naive you know that it's too late

And you know every time you say "kiss me"

A little part of him dies

You know his heart's breaking just like yours

You are both living a lie

Chorus 3:

You don't like it when he screams that name

You can't take it you know it's not your game

He'll tell you that you don't need to know the truth

You know the secrets you all hold deep inside you

Addicted to Coffee...House

Tomorrow's Mackinac Island trip doesn't give me a whole lot of time to post...but I have to, because so much incredibly epic shit happened to me today. Also, it has been nine days...once again, I fail.

So this is an insider post, meaning that if you are not from Interlochen, you probably will not understand it. (But since this is an "Interlochen Blog," I don't have to worry about that, right?)

Tonight, at Coffeehouse, I witnessed...

A kissing chain
A white boy rapping (and doing a f#$%ing good job, as I, the non-rap listener, can eagerly confirm)
A REALLY intense rendition of a Jewel song (Sierra, you ROCK)
Photography
A mini-dance party
Secret-spilling (which I actually took part in, to be honest)
Stripped-down acoustic awesomeness (this happened more than once)
The Vagina Monologue (am I going to get flagged inappropriate simply for typing that title? I hope not!)
Inside jokes made into songs
A medley about liking girls (which included the most soulful rendition of "I Kissed A Girl" that I've ever heard)
Poetry readings (again, I did this too--I'll explain later)
Marco as the Coffehouse Host
Thoroughly Modern Millie
Evil plots involving Moldy Peaches songs

And that is just the START of what happened tonight.

This is just one of the many things that I love about Interlochen. To me, this is more important than the "community meetings" that they drag us to once a week. This builds our community far more than anything that the admins can force on us. There were roughly two hundred people packed into that place at one point--I can't think of anything that strengthens a community more than packing into a huge space, bringing acoustic guitars, a piano, some lyrics, a poem, a monologue, WHATEVER your medium, and sharing our talents with each other. I don't know about you, but I have to feel pretty damn safe before I stand up in front of 200 people and read something that basically sums up my unrequited feelings in about three stanzas. Same goes for the people who play songs they've written, sing songs that they've heard and found meaning in (just pretend that was grammatically correct, ok?), or read sections from plays (yes, Marco, I'm talking to YOU).

I think that's the thing about Coffeehouse. I didn't know most of the people there tonight, to be sure--but I knew I wouldn't get laughed at, and no one would roll their eyes, and no one would think less of me for reading something I'd written. And honestly, I think that's pretty cool, just to be able to express yourself like that...don't you think?

Okay. One more thing concerning Coffeehouse, and then I will move on.

This, for anyone who missed it, is the poem I read tonight, title omitted (because it doesn't exist):

I found a place where I knew I could be safe
You took that place and made it yours
You stole things I could never take back
Stole time I could've spent with someone else--
Someone more important to me
Than you can be in years of friendship.

And it never rains, it just pours like hell
And I'd beat you up if I weren't kicking myself
You make it so bad sometimes that I can't cry
Because I'm screaming so loud my throat hurts
And I wish I wasn't your freaking third wheel
But damn it, I am, and I let it be that way because it's so easy.

Because you never want me around
Until you want something from me.
And then when you want something
Suddenly I'm the most important thing to you
And your stupid friends
And all the people who shouldn't matter--
But they do.

And for the record, I DO have friends.
Friends better than you, exponentially better
And I love them so much more than I'll ever love you
And I really do hate you sometimes
And I have never hated any of them, for even a second
Because they've never hurt me, but you have.

Oh, but you have power.
You have power over me, and no matter what
I know I can't take that power away from you
Because it's yours, and you know, sometimes
I really think it's meant to be that way.


That concludes the sappy portion of our show.


On to the random list of the night...

SONGS I LOVE BUT DIDN'T KNOW I HAD ON MY iTUNES:

"Girl Next Door" by Saving Jane
"Pictures of You" by The Last Goodnight
"Bless the Broken Road" by Rascal Flatts
"I'm Too Sexy" by Right Said Fred (Yes, I AM a geek, thank you for asking)
"Compassion" by Todd Rundgren
"Bullet the Blue Sky" by U2
"Phantomrider" by Tokio Hotel


And now for everyone's favorite...

STOLEN DIALOGUE

“Of all the topics I did not think we’d cover tonight, rat testicles would have to be number one on the list.”

Person one: Who are your suitemates?
Person two: Ronald Regan and Hitler.
Person one: What?
Person two: No, T and J.
Person three: Same difference.
Person two: Wanna try and figure out which one is which?

Person one: My teacher told me a story about a drunk chimpanzee this morning.
Person two: Yeah, well, last night, my hall counselor told me a story about a taxidermied squirrel with its own cult following.

“Hello, gentlemen! Would you mind terribly if I stand here and cleaned your already-spotless table just for the sake of doing something?”

Person one: What if we were all trapped in here by the serial killer and had to choose someone to die, and we all chose Jeff, but the serial killer just killed us all and set Jeff free?
Person two: Then Jeff would think you all deserved it!

Person one: "Love, Lust, Letdown?" How can that be the title and plot of the movie if it's just one person?
Person two: He loves himself, he lusts himself, he lets himself down.
Person one: He lusts himself...wait, what? That makes NO sense!
Person two: Oh, come into our room sometime late at night, you'll see him lust himself.
Person one: I SO didn't need that image in my mind before workshop, thank you...

Person one: Want to help me assemble this bike?
Person two: Dude, I can't even do Legos!

"You can go to the bathroom whenever you want, but if you're gone for a long time I WILL call Health Services...'Hello, I think we have a diarrhea student here...'"

"I can't think how to protect you except for kicking someone's ass. So, if you will kindly direct me to the ass which needs kicking, I will proceed to do the kicking of the aforementioned ass."

Person one: I love you guys!
Person two: I love us too!



And with that I sign off, because I have to sleep tonight, because tomorrow...

IT'S MACKINAC ISLAND TIME!!!!

(I WILL do a post on that, I promise.)