silly silly silly

is what I am. and not in a good way. in a foolish way. I like to pretend I'm more, but I am nothing more than the rest of them. who's to say that's a bad thing? me. I say it's bad. they don't understand, and I think I do, but I know I don't. I bet they think they understand, too. I wonder if they know that in reality they don't really understand. I looked like them today and almost didn't want to face the world. everyone who saw me probably thought I actually was one of them. or, god forbid, trying to be one of them. I try not to be one of them. I wonder if that's even worse. it probably is. clones drones bones.

I like my bones. they help me not be jell-o. I really hate jell-o. it's made from bones. I really wish I was a bird. they have hollow bones. I would like to be one that only ate seeds and berries. I love seeds and but mostly berries. or maybe I could eat things that were already dead. that would be okay. I don't want to kill things. I just want to fly. and sing. I have a terrible voice. 

I have really heavy boots that won't let me fly right now. I think they're a size too small, too, because I can't get them off. at least they don't seem to be made of cement. I hate it when they're made of cement. although, I like the way cement feels under my feet. I like it best when it's rough. I hate it when it's too smooth. then it's like a chalkboard. or a dry shell. I suppose that doesn't make much sense to someone who doesn't live in my brain. I should sell day-passes. maybe then people wouldn't get so annoyed when they think I should know better or be better. have you ever scratched a dry shell by mistake? it gives me the heebie jeebies. dry dry dry. the ocean makes it better. can we go play in the waves now?


I I I me me me.
doe ray me fa' sew la tea doe.
pastel deer would be best. I miss the sun. I want to go fa'. children in china make my clothes. la-la-land is where I should go. I love peach tea. I talk way too much about me.
shut up now, please.

momentarily sane

I went crazy yesterday. it's been happening a lot lately.
this trip to crazyville ended up leading to some good things, though. namely, I came to the realization that I am a control freak. a very laid back control freak, mind you, but I need to know where things stand in relation to my life at all times, or I apparently lose my shit. when things are muddy and undefined I freak the fuck out. I don't need things to change, I just need to know what's going on.
it is really fun when I go batshit. you should probably come watch me sometime when it happens. there is a lot of hyperventilation (which is called that because you hyper-ventilate. like too much breathing. a friend pointed this out the other day and I felt dumb for not realizing it before.) involved, and I get this very strange confused look on my face from thinking too hard. have you ever thought so hard that your brain hurts and you get dizzy? that's what happens to me. I ask why a lot and nothing seems to make sense. confused would be a severe understatement for my mental state when it happens.

also, I am incredibly annoying when having mental breakdowns. the problems that bring them on seem trivial to anyone not in my brain. people who deal with me while I freak out must think I am so overdramatic. I am VERY needy while I am insane. the "problems" are so stupid; there is no reason for me to freak out over such meaningless shit. but I do.
I lose my mind.
once I find it (my mind) again, it generally has a better understanding of things. the breakdowns let me see things clearly once they eventually run their course.

last night when I reclaimed my sanity, I realized that I went crazy because I am too reliant on definitions. I need to learn how to let that go. everyone isn't going to tell me what they are thinking all the time. I will not always understand people's motives or rationale. it's going to be tough because I love definitions.
that probably sounds bad, but it's not. I am entirely unsure how to properly explain what I mean.
I suppose I like very specific definitions and labels. I don't discriminate based on them, I just like to know where everything fits in relation to me. that way I know how to properly interact with them.

also, I decided facebook plays a disgustingly important role in my life. I forget how to interact with people in real life. or did I ever really know how to do that? probably not.
anyway, as of tonight, facebook no longer has control over me. if people want to know me, they can talk to me. I am done.
done done done.
hopefully not using it helps me to stay sane on a more consistent basis.

p.s. clothes suck.

I believe in a thing called love

there are two nights in a day. why didn't we realize this before?

wasted space

is what I am.


could you please make me into something worthwhile?
I'm sort of like clay. fashion me into whatever you think will work. I will gladly fit the mold. 

my feet are so black and blue

barenaked ladies, ben folds, cake, cloud cult, cute is what we aim for, dashboard confessional, dave matthews band, dishwalla, dispatch, the dresden dolls, the early november, everclear, flobots, fun., goo goo dolls, gorillaz, grateful dead, green day, guster, gwen stefani, gym class heroes, hootie and the blowfish, iron & wine, jack johnson, jack's mannequin, jimi hendrix, joshua radin, ke$ha, kelis, the kooks, lady gaga, lil wayne, lily allen, lykke li, manchester orchestra, matchbox twenty, matt & kim, mika, mumm-ra, n.e.r.d., no doubt, o.a.r., oasis, ol' dirty bastard, panic! at the disco, passion pit, peaches, phish, playradioplay!, radiohead, regina spektor, rob pattinson, say anything, the scene aesthetic, shawn mullins, shiny toy guns, shwayze, something corporate, the spill canvas, state radio, streetlight manifesto, sublime, sufjan stevens, suzanne vega, third eye blind, wheatus.

everything you could ever want to know about me is in that list. mostly that I have no fucking idea who/what/where/when I am, but, hey, I like good music. (or all music.) I would be surprised if someone couldn't find at least one artist they liked in that list. I currently only have 100 songs in my "veryvery favorites" playlist, and these are the artist that sing them. they describe me. they are me. 

I am so unfocused. 

it seems really silly and immature to say that my music "defines" me, but it really does, metaphorically at least. I have no direction. none at all. I am all over the place. my style, my personality, my tastes, my beliefs. it is kind of frustrating not to have a destination. 

which way is east? 

I am so redundant. 

trail mix

What makes me worthwhile? As of yet, nothing. I dwell on what I can do to make it happen, but so far I haven't followed through. Sure, I've read a few books, listened to a few songs, jotted down a few notes, but I didn't follow through. Follow through with what exactly, I have no idea. I just didn't make it work. Maybe there was nothing with enough merit to stick. It makes me sick to think of how unimportant I am; how little I contribute. Even when I write, the words are only my thoughts. Who cares about that? I should be writing about things that other people thought with dashes of my own insightful musings scattered in at appropriate intervals. Maybe it's just that I think I think too much to do that effectively. My thoughts come in a blur and very quickly, and then I can't sort them out enough to figure out what's important. 

Everything's important. Or is nothing important? I can't tell. 

Other people's thoughts sometimes really intrigue me, but other times they interest me less than my own. That sounds terribly selfish. I am terribly selfish. I get lost in my own head. It's not the bad kind of lost, though. It's the kind of getting lost that let's you learn and explore before getting to your intended destination. I love being lost. Especially when it's not in a car. Either in my head or on foot is best. Will someone come get lost in the woods with me for a day or two? Or even just for a few hours. I want to lay in the sun in a place that I have never been to before and probably will never go again. I want novelty. 

I am an (oxy)moron. I live for novelty, but I thrive on routine. I want to get lost and explore, but I take the most efficient routes everywhere. I should stop that. I really do just want to get lost and fill my head with pretty thoughts. I think thoughts are pretty. 

I mull over everything. Sometimes I think about things that I don't even care about. I waste hours thinking about it, and never end up caring any more or less. I never regret getting lost in thoughts about unimportant things or people. All thoughts are worthwhile. 

I think about people, mostly. What they want. Why they do things. Everyone is selfish and has motives behind their actions. It's what the motives are that I want to know. I wish everyone knew that there is nothing wrong with being selfish. I am horribly, disgustingly selfish. Because of that,  I want to know your thoughts. I wish I could collect everyone's thoughts. I love other people's thoughts. They're fascinating. They lead me to new thoughts of my own. I just don't like to write about them too much. I wish I did. I mostly just like to pick through their brain and see where it gets me. It usually ends up coming back to me. How do I relate to this? How does this apply to me? Could I deal with that? I am so very, very selfish. I don't think I mind it though. 

I also care about people. I guess it doesn't really sound like it, but I do. I care a whole lot. Maybe too much. It's just that my thoughts end up back on me most of the time while I am caring. I am confusing and rambling. I do care about you though, even though I am a selfish bitch. 

double standards

I feel so stupid. There used to be something there. I didn't imagine that, did I?
I probably did. I'm stupid like that.
I just want to know what changed.
That's all.
I don't care about it, really.
I just want to know what happened.
I didn't want it. You know that. I know that. Everyone knows that. I didn't want it. I don't know why I didn't. I still don't want it.
I'm sorry I didn't.
I'm sorry you don't.
Why don't you?
Can't things just go back to how they were?
Did that part even change? I can't tell. I can never tell. Maybe that's why I care at all.
I liked that part. That part worked. That part could still work. That part worked well. It could work even better. Or at least more.
Or the other part. That part changed. But that part could still work, too. They didn't work together. It's a shame they never worked together. It's a shame I didn't want them to.
I know it's stupid to think about this. It isn't anything. I didn't want anything. I don't want anything. So why do I care? I really, really don't want anything.
You probably think that's a lie. It's not.
Maybe that's why.
I wish I made sense.
I think I think too much.
I think I need too much.
I think I need more.
Sorry.

Why can't you be like my computer?
One-sided expectations.





I am going to regret this. It will be taken to mean just what I tried to say it didn't. It really doesn't mean that at all. Oh well.
Honestly, I don't think about this anymore. It's just late and I am bored. My mind wanders to weird places. Sorry.