Look Up

2008-02-07T18:01:00.000-08:00

there's always time
pass me by
i'll be fine
there's always time

2008-01-12T02:44:00.000-08:00

who are you: just one person. just allison. still in the makings, or at least the discoverings.

what are you doing: thinking too much, or maybe too little, about life and the people in it that make it important. also, lying in bed, getting ready to fall asleep and then wake up in three hours.

where are you going: the east coast, to escape and explore and adventure and hope.

recommend (something): telling the truth down to every last detail even stupid or embarrassing things that don't matter. (wow, that sounded cliche... but when you can look a person in the eyes and know you have never lied to them, it's a both liberating and frightening feeling.) also, writing letters. also, the book "extremely loud & incredibly close." there is another one, but i'm editing this for public publishing purposes.

what is your idea of a perfect day: i just don't really believe in perfect, but nowadays, i'd like to wake up next to bestfriends in a big ol' city like new york and prepare to play music together and eat delicious food (there is an empty plate of what used to be pad thai by my bed) and stay up late that night having real conversations.

what's your favorite quote:
i have lots. here are two:
"So, I guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons. And maybe we'll never know most of them. But even if we don't have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there. We can still do things. And we can try to feel okay about them." - from Perks
"When we first were friends you asked me what I believed in. I never answered. I believe in you. I believe in us."
- a text from a friend I got on the plane ride home in October

maybe you should fill this out.

2008-01-01T21:20:00.000-08:00

Regardless of how seldom I write in this, I still feel as though an end-of-the-year entry would be nice. If nothing else, to give one giant "fuck you" to 2007. It was easily the worst year of my life, and I know I'm not the only one for whom that is true. I don't really need to say too much about that because everyone close to me knows some of the shit that went down and I don't feel a need to re-cap it.

In vintage Allison Francis form, however, I should recognize that if the worst year of my life also contained meeting people that would change my life, and change me - as well as the opportunity for a fresh start in an incredible city - then I remain blessed.

I can't say I'm feeling incredibly optimistic about 2008, because although 2007 is over, I am still exactly where it left me. We all are. And things still feel heavy. But in times like ours we have to take what we can get; we don't have a choice. So 2008, bring it on. But please take it easy.

"Sad to still be here, but happy to be alive
It seems the more one lives the less one thrives...

I raise my glass just one more time
Try to write another rhyme, a word that rhymes with hopeful...
for the new year"

2007-11-26T23:06:00.001-08:00

The friendship anklet Lauren tied onto my ankle two summers ago just came off.

I'd been dreading this for so long.

Missing.

2007-11-04T18:19:00.001-08:00

It's been exactly twelve days since October 23rd and exactly six months since May 4th. Those days that feel like the worst days of your life, they're not really, because you've still got further to fall and lower to feel. This isn't optimistic, because I don't feel optimistic. I have a friend who reads this blog and has commented a couple times how she admires my outlook - how, no matter what's going on, I'm able to see the beauty of life and humanity and the like.

But I feel like this Postsecret:

It's just getting difficult. It's not that I've stopped believing in all the good things, and that love is all you need. Frankly I just feel like the world has just stopped proving that I could be right. And I worry that even though love is all that matters, and the only thing that can transcend life and death and everything in between, love might not be enough.

I've been torn between two coasts, two lives. Last Friday my best friend from school put her headphones on my ears and played me a song that made me cry on the spot.

"I could stay here, become someone different.
I could stay here, become someone better.

It's hard to go into the city, because you wanna say 'I love you' to everybody
It's so hard to go into the city, because you wanna say, 'hey, I love you,' to everybody.

When we were teenagers, we wanted to be the sky..."

Sometimes you have to choose. So for now, I'll stay.

2007-10-10T08:43:00.000-07:00

My college experience thus far involves the following.

• Drinking tea (de-caffinated at night, Oregon Chai when I'm feeling self-indulgent)
• Finding ways to avoid paying for public transportation. And food. Actually, anything, really.
• Lamenting the superiority of the west coast.
• A garbage truck that comes by my window every morning at 3 a.m.
• Letters to and from all over the place.
• Exercising spontanaeity whenever possible. The academic results of this are yet to be determined.
• Sharing books, poems, and music - while avoiding conversations with people who are snobbish about these.
• Power-walking down Commonwealth Avenue for Tuesday and Thursday classes.
• Vegan ice cream, cantelope, and grilled sandwiches from the West Campus Dining Hall.
• Distracting Liz Pelly from doing work.
• Making eye contact with strangers/wearing sunglasses like it's always bright out, depending on my mood.
• Finding myself in absurd situations with Amanda James.
• Facebooking during Sociology lectures - even more so after I found out it was a 242-level class. Oops?
• Being the token girl with the camera at parties.
• Convincing people to come visit Portland next summer (Lee Falls plans in the works).
• Acquiring a taste for fashion, namely novelties such as hats, glasses, and other accessories.
• Complaining about how broke I am while standing in line at the register.
• Being more motivated to go to the FitRec Center than to take a shower.
• Composing killer riffs in my group beginner piano class (using the headphones, since I'm not working on arpeggios).
• Looking for inspiration for new tattoos.
• Debating which concerts to go to.
• Nagging Colin to come visit.
• Watching the Office three hours earlier than everyone at home.
• Wishing I wasn't asleep when Alli has time to talk.
• Thinking about how Lauren would like everything I'm doing and the people I'm loving.
• Living.

"When there's nothing left to burn,
you have to set yourself on fire."

2007-08-28T03:46:00.000-07:00

A life is time, they teach us growing up
The seconds ticking killed us all
a million years before the fall

I stepped outside to see the last moments of the eclipsed moon, but the trees blocked my view. My summer song drifted from inside and I looked up at the stars, wondering whether satellites or life moved faster.

From the corner of my eye, I saw the moon, nestled between hidden branches like a secret in the palm of a hand. Clouded and golden, it was beautiful. I looked up, my hands in my pockets, a cold tear on my cheek.

I miss you. I said it without words.

In this quiet night, the trees began to sway. The wind moaned softly and I listened, trusting. She told me I was going to be alright. I felt it everywhere. Just as gracefully, she drifted away, and the night was still.

I believe her.

2007-08-05T14:02:00.000-07:00

A little while ago I was looking through old letters I'd written Lauren and I found one from last year (2006) saying something along the lines of, fuck. I'm going to lose you and I can't stand it and I want to be set free from it. So I'll just say goodbye now so we can go on living. Goodbye.

Well, I'm leaving for Boston in three weeks and I'm not ready but I won't be able to stop it, so, fuck. I don't even know if I want to go but I'm going and that's that. So I might as well stop worrying about not having enough time because that's always how it's been. I'm leaving, but I've got three weeks, so I'm going to live right here and now and see how that goes before I face anything else.

This summer has been so much different from all the other summers I've seen. After a bitter breaking-away from my high school life I'm left with decisions about where I want to be. Quite honestly it's been a time of struggling to get through all the missing and the sadness and the frustration to find (and more importantly, to hold onto) the warmth in my life. Because there's a lot of it, but being the inherently flawed human that I am... it's like I close my eyes to take a break from all this, and when I open them, I see myself pushing away from people and things that matter.

I'm just really trying to keep my eyes open.

2007-07-30T18:15:00.000-07:00

Waiting for the Max underground a deep wind begins to build and chill us all, remniscent of the eerieness of dementors. The train shoots through the dark tunnel and I'm riding backwards, seeing what I've missed. Take me to the riot. Let a stranger transform. Let me stay.

I've said Portland would always be home. The sidewalks and the sky, even the pidgeons and burrito stands hold some sense of familiarity. Will I ever wake up in this town and feel there's nothing else for me here? Since you've been gone I am less interested in places I pass and people I see. I'm not sure why exactly that is.

Could I ever feel home again? Honestly?

The strangers who used to feel like soulmates are now just smiles looking past me. I see a ladder leaned against a bare ceiling and feel as if I've climbed it. People are just people, they shouldn't make you nervous. Has this city changed or have I? I see a boy soaring down the street in a wheelchair less than two blocks away from where I met him and didn't like him, at least six months ago.

It doesn't feel like home anymore.

Places I've been are vaguely familiar amongst change and new doorsteps. What has everyone been doing while I've been gone?

A nice girl in Backspace says she likes my shirt and doesn't judge me when I tell her it's just from Urban. Could we be friends beyond admiring each other's styes? Not that I'm planning on it. I'm just considering the possibilities. Anyway, I respect that she probably has reasons for her tattoos, but I don't understand them as of now.

How did I become so detached? Realization exhausts me a little.

Lauren, where did you go? I expect to see you in these places you'd like and feel comfortable in. Are you re-reading Harry Potter again? Come outside with me. I need to feel you.

Remembering her smile, and the nuclear bomb, and the reasons I loved her. I'm walking through Central Park; I'm in a foreign country, and I'm waiting for a sign. It's a hot summer day and I have goosebumps because I'm listening to "Begin" and looking up at the sky. Is that you? There's a girl sitting in the bench diagonally across from me. Is she wearing heavy boots? God, I used to be so in love with the world. How could the abscence of one person make me feel so alone and disillusioned?

A homeless lady passes in front of me, looks at the ground, and rolls right along. The girl has left. "The city's changing, because we are changing. We are all in this together." Don't forget. Can everyone see how I need them? I need their eyes locked to mine, our shoulders brushing, our worlds colliding.

When I leave, will I come back here; will everything be as I left it?

I saw you crying; I started crying
because we're all in this together.

I want to believe.

But I read with every broken heart we should become more adventurous. If I knew where I was supposed to be, I would go there. I would sacrifice money and heaven for love. But I would rather it found me.

I feel a faint sense of comfort when I am taking a picture of the graffitied wall across the street and a taxi driver slows down so as to avoid getting in the way. For the first time today I look directly into someone's eyes. Even the slightest comfort can be dire in moods like the one I am in. Sitting in a park of bricks, I get a paper cut, and everyone around me seems to be on drugs. I could be standing outside a broken telephone booth with money in my hand.

Walk from Chinatown to the Pearl District to downtown Portland. Where have I gone?

On the train home a woman is reading a book called something like "The Terrible Things Men Do." Did someone hurt her or is she afraid or is it something else? The Max is filled with tired-looking people and I wonder if I've got anything to give but questions which, quite honestly, I do not know if I want the answers to.

If anyone has tried to talk to me, I haven't noticed. I've been trying to stop listening to music that makes me sad, but every song is about love and I can't help but feel melancholy.

What now, kid?
Which way, love?

2007-07-09T10:32:00.001-07:00

I'm reading this book, "Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close." I'll be honest; although the language of the book is not notably advanced, I don't always know what's going on, but it brings me near tears every other page. Granted, that's not really hard to do, with me. It's just, I live for those books whose words touch you so intimately, so honestly. Books that articulate truths that maybe you understand, but have never been able to explain, or books that expose universal truths that are difficult to acknowledge, especially to yourself.

"She wants to know if I love her, that’s all anyone wants from anyone else, not love itself but the knowledge that love is there, like new batteries in the flashlight in the emergency kit in the hall closet."

Is that true? Is reassurance, not love, all we need? I don't know that it's all that pretty a truth, but I think I believe it. I think logically most of us understand that we are loved. But if that were all that mattered, it wouldn't hurt, it wouldn't scare us, when someone could not or would not say "I love you," back to us, or otherwise. I guess it only becomes scary when you already love the person. "To protect yourself from sadness, you also must protect yourself from happiness."

I don't really feel like this is going anywhere. Since I've been reading this book my writing only feels more inadequate. Journalism major? Really? I feel like I need to cue the "Hercules" theme music or something ("I would go most anywhere to feeeel, like I belonggg!"), and I feel like I am just like every other college freshman... ever. Which is fine, I guess, since that's what I am. Ha, even though it feels like a lie or a joke to say.

"I thought, it’s a shame we have to live, but it’s a tragedy that we get to live only one life, because if I’d had two lives, I would have spent one of them with her."

Ask yourself what you are protecting in the parts of your heart that you don't allow even yourself to see.

2007-06-26T00:13:00.000-07:00

I've been avoiding writing for a while now.

Tonight, driving down a road both endless and finite, I hoped I'd recognize your headlights, though the lights around the curves became few and far between as the road went on. Even though I'd told you not to come, over and over again. I think we all do that, sometimes. "Push yourself away from your one best friend," yet not let go of the possibility that they could push their way back into your heart even harder. That's how we break our own hearts, again and again.

We all know how things are going to end, ultimately; the only thing that changes and makes living interesting is the way we choose to approach this, the inevitable.

I've never really been sad in the summer. I don't really know if I'd consider myself sad now. But, inevitably, things are different for me than they've been for the last five years, and different for the world than they've been for the last twenty. I'm scared for a lot of our friends. I'm not scared for myself as much as overwhelmed with the responsibility to live, and live well. And missing her. Unspeakably and indescribably so. The littlest things can set me off. I see her in colors and lights and feel her in the sun and in our songs and in the dark. And I know it's real but it's never enough.

What struck me hard, and stays with me significantly, was when Paige said at her service, we've been through missing her - from 3,000 miles away, from a deeply-buried place of powerful drugs and long-lasting nightmares, from holding on so goddamn tightly that we fear even more we might lose her. And now, missing her is all we have to look forward to, in life. That's a very difficult thing to accept and to understand.

We all know how things are going to end, but still, here we are. What are we fighting for? What are we living for? Maybe there's some inherent wisdom that understands why living is worth it. Maybe there's a more conscious feeling that understands why living means more than just staying alive. Maybe not. But I have got quite a long way to go if I ever reach the disheartening conclusion that it's all been in vain.

'Til then, or 'til another moment.

"I've been downhearted, babe,
ever since the day we met."

2007-03-11T19:20:00.000-07:00

This is my new bike Belle. I was very excited to get her. Today I took her for her first ride, down Tunnelwood, past Bridlemile, and onward. Coasting down the hills, I was so happy to be in the open air with flower petals fluttering up in my wake.

I found my two best friends saying goodbye.

Really goodbye.

The cat made a clamor and he looked its way, as if he cared. He held her hand while I went and sat in her room. I clutched a miscelleanous stuffed animal and looked around with strained vision; I saw a "To See" movie list in her familiar handwriting and the sweater that won "Ugliest Christmas Sweater" contest for me folded up on her desk; I saw a mirror and barely recognized myself.

He came in to say goodbye to me, not for the last time. We were both sorry that he was leaving.

I sat with her a while longer and whispered things that I hoped she'd hear with something other than her ears and tried with all my might to just be. Until I left. I didn't get very far. I haven't figured out how to adjust the bike gears yet, the hills were too steep, and I was too weak.

I am too weak. Getting a bike, all this, seemed like such a great idea, but it doesn't seem like it will last much longer. Everything is just so tired and wearing. I can't imagine it will go on much longer.

"And I could feel our days becoming night..."

2007-02-19T21:45:00.000-08:00

“You need to get out of here.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her out of bed. She wrote my phone number on a scrap piece of paper, left it on the kitchen counter, and followed me into the night.

Two a.m., we left Crady Street. Guns n’ Roses played loudly and my car swept through the dark, silent neighborhood like a dart.

“Where do we go?
Where do we go now?
Where do we go?”

“What am I doing?” she screamed, excited and scared. She had never left home in the middle of the night before. She threw her hands around me and kissed my head.

I chose west, the Old Jackson School exit. The stars shone clearly in the sky --- like summer, but cold enough to make me shiver. Or maybe that wasn’t the only reason, but I couldn’t stop.

The lone tree in the old field stared at us as we drove by, staring right back…

We didn’t get back to her house until four a.m. The slightest shade of orange began to glow on the horizon, only urging me to hold on to the moment.

When I left her, I thought about the people finishing up their graveyard shifts, and wondered if they preferred being awake while everyone else sleeps. If they feel like they’re missing more or worrying less by sleeping when the sun is out.

Although I hadn’t felt tired for hours, I tread softly up the path to my house and collapsed into bed. I don’t think I missed out on anything that night. Instead I experienced a clear instance of exactly what was happening in our lives in that moment.

2007-01-20T15:45:00.000-08:00

So many people have these allegedly infalliable theories about life and death. Myself included -- we're here to love until we die, and we'll only live on in what we've left behind. So easy to prop these words on top of each other; they make enough sense. The truth is, though, even in sincerity, it's all bullshit. Bullshit inflated with hope and fear.

I've been reading a lot of Chuck, going a little crazy, and I can't say I've been feeling that optimistic lately.

But it's just difficult when death is on the impending horizon. And instead of a metaphor, it's my best friend. Instead of the beautiful circle of life, it's watching her literally fall before I get the chance to catch her. It's a migraine headache. It's alternating between lying in bed all day and trying to make it to the toilet in time to throw up. It's us, walking through seperate hells and expecting the worst.

And maybe some people who read this, maybe you are nodding your heads. Maybe you're thinking about that "Good Will Hunting" monologue:

"And if I asked you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone could level you with her eyes. Feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you, who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn't know what it’s like to be her angel and to have that love for her to be there forever. Through anything. Through cancer. You wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in a hospital room for two months holding her hand because the doctors could see in your eyes that the term visiting hours don't apply to you. You don't know about real loss, because that only occurs when you love something more than you love yourself. I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much."

And as much as you don't want to believe it, maybe that applies to you. I mean, maybe not, but who do you love? How do you show it? Do you know how this will end? I'm going to say it outright; the kind of comradery I feel around my oh-so-tight class means so little next to what I know is the strongest love I've experienced. It's not like I expect things to change, but I'm so disillusioned by this false sense of what love is.

Hey, I haven't lost anybody yet, either. I don't know when it will happen, and I don't know what it's going to feel like. But I know that it's coming.

I don't have words of hope, because right now, I don't feel much.

2007-01-10T00:10:00.000-08:00

Good writing freaks me out. I don't know why this is. I'm re-reading one of my favorite books, "A Complicated Kindness," by Miriam Toews, and it's somehow even more stirring than I remember. It's just that every line seems so perfectly constructed and sensibly placed and I don't think I could ever create something so natural. And in the story the characters, though it almost seems inaccurate to call them that, are so heartbreakingly real.

"Things shouldn't hinge on so very little. Sneeze and you're highway carnage. Remove one tiny stone and bang, you're an avalanche statistic. But I guess if you can die without ever understanding how it happened then you can also live without a complete understanding of how. And in a way that's kind of relaxing."

I don't know why but sometimes when things are normal I feel so panicky. Things start to slip away, or maybe it's the other way around, and I'm slipping away from everything else.

In 5th grade I heard the Everclear song "Father of Mine" and later "Wonderful" and I wrote to Art Alexakis about how wow, those songs are so amazing and so my life, I've got so much pre-teen angst because my parents have been divorced for my whole life and gosh I just wish I could be normal. He e-mailed back in a few short lines and without proper punctuation, but it meant a lot at the time: "people always think their lives suck, until they meet someone whose life really sucks. normal is what you make it".

In October I took advantage of Chuck Palahniuk's limited time offer to write, and yesterday I received a response. "Some [of my stories] are extreme - but so is life. We can't deal with tragedy by pretending it doesn't happen."

It felt the same as getting that e-mail from Art Alexakis when I was 11. Some sort of idolized hero can still recognize where I'm coming from. Maybe it's childlike hope. But I can appreciate that.

"I'll count the steps to happiness I've missed..."

2007-01-07T15:00:00.000-08:00

"These last three years, I know they've been hard
but now it's time to get out of the desert and into the sun
even if it's alone."

I'm not a negative person. I believe in humanity and in love and in the beautiful brevity of life as much as anyone I know. But it's gotten so goddamn hard lately. Being in school is a joke because I don't care, and so many of the people there don't have the slightest clue as to what is important in life; at least, that's what their actions convey. I can't sit still or listen to what people say because my mind's only on one thing. My best friend is dying, painfully, but everything else is floating on okay and that's not right to me. No one expects me to be happy but it's still so frustrating when I can't find comfort in anything within reach.

I'm so afraid. I know I can't be the only one. If things go as planned, I'll be living in a new city just a few months from now. Maybe 3,000 miles away. And the thought of a city of people who don't know a thing about me, or necessarily care, is totally overwhelming. Anything could happen; this could go either way. If I end up feeling worse, I don't know how I'll handle it.

Everyone's counting the minutes 'til class is over, the weeks 'til spring break, the months 'til we get out of Portland. Myself included. But when the countdown's over, no one's ever satisfied.

I'm trying to find something, anything, that could serve as a balm. And I suspect that nothing will be enough. But the scariest part is thinking about how I'll live through it all.

"We are here to make you feel,
it terrifies you, but it's real."

2006-12-29T00:12:00.000-08:00

I can't stop listening to the last song on the "Little Miss Sunshine" soundtrack.

"You already know, you already know, you already know how this will end."

And we do, don't we? Clearly, life is futile. And you can take that knowledge one of two ways: fuck it and party hard because tomorrow, we may die ... or take the moment, right now, because it will end.

I feel that this is all I write about, this taking ahold of life and living. Then again, I haven't written in a while. I'd like to think that this is not just because I'm lazy and void of inspiration, but rather, I've been spending my time in the real world.

I feel much older than I used to feel. I finished applying to college two days ago. Now all I have to do is finish out school, and wait. I've felt somewhat private the past few days. I'd say alone, but I don't want to sound emo; it's more just like, I feel like I move in and out of other peoples' lives mostly when I want to, as opposed to watching everyone come in and out of my life. I guess it's inevitable that a little more independence can lead to a little more sense of loneliness. I've been working more often, too. The other night a lady named Grace, who is very old and normally somewhat slow but very kind, kept leaning and lurching forward in her chair. I said, "are you sure you're okay?" And she looked directly into my eyes and said "no, I'm not okay, I'm dying." I didn't know how to respond.

So I made her an egg salad sandwich.

"You always wanted to believe.
Just ask and you'll receive.
Beyond your wildest dreams.

And you already know how this will end."

Maybe you don't feel so optimistic about how things are going in your life or in the world in general. But if you're here, there's at least a tiny part of you that believes it's worth it. Please, hold onto that.

2006-10-23T17:53:00.000-07:00

None of it makes sense, you know. I can't find words that mean what I'm feeling, and the closest thing to perfect articulation would be a scream.

But when I'm done screaming, what do I do?

I just returned from an east coast trip for college visits. Mostly I walked through the cities and waited for the right feeling. I thought a lot about cities being "living proof people need to be together". I imagined that if I yelled your name, people would brush it off without caring where it came from in me. And I know it makes sense for them to not care; I can't find it in myself to care about people I don't know, but it bewilders me that the greatest person I've ever met, whom so much of my life has been touched by, will die with the whole of the world unchanged.

And I know that to think this way is pessimistic and would lead me to believe that there's no point in living, but there doesn't have to be. I think living's worth it. It just sucks that we all end up gone forever. And it sucks that for the best person I've ever known, it has to end decades early.

Love is no shield from suffering.

So, heck, the question remains. What do I do when I'm done screaming?

2006-10-10T17:06:00.000-07:00

"Paradise lost is sometimes Heaven found." Sometimes.

That was the moral of the children's book Holly and I read last night. "Hey Al." I went to her house after cheer and we spent an hour talking on her bed, and the book came up when we were talking about our childhood memories. She had images of her dad taking time to show her all the details in the pictures, and just the name of the book made it all flood back to me, too, how my dad read me the same story over and over again.

I think, that when Lauren was diagnosed again with cancer last January, that I lost my chance to ever be happy again in a certain way. Happy in an innocent sense. Since then I've of course become more fulfilled and sustained, but I think we all lost something irreplaceable when it struck in resonating waves.

I won't be ready. Not in a week, not in six months, probably not ever. But it'll happen and I'll have to be. And I can try to imagine the day or night-of -- devastation. But what's harder for me is imagining the days and months and even years after the fact. Every single second I've been alive, so has she. How could I go on?

I don't know. I don't think anyone does. All I have are my friends and family who care and the heart she showed me how to open. From now 'til always, we have love, love, love.

"I feel like I'm moving in slow motion and everything around me is moving so fast. And I just want to go back to when things were normal, when I wasn't poor Izzie laying on the bathroom floor in her prom dress with her dead fiancee. But I am. So I can't. I'm just stuck. And there's all this pressure cause everyone's hovering around waiting for me to do something or say something or flip out or yell or cry some more. And I'm happy to play my part. I'm happy to say the lines and do whatever it is I'm supposed to be doing if it would make everyone feel more comfortable. But I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to be this person. I don't know who this person is. "

2006-09-14T16:48:00.000-07:00

I turn 18 tomorrow. It's exciting to hit the milestone, but more than being amazed by the passing of time, I'm convinced that everyone in the world goes through life pretending they know what they're doing. Confidence is naivete because uncertainty is not a phase. And the people worth respecting are at least the people who bullshit with sincerity.

2006-09-01T23:32:00.000-07:00

First week of school down (or at least the first four days) and it went fine, but it felt like several weeks. I barely paid attention to time, so when Friday finally hit, I felt proud that I have yet to have a panic attack or nervous breakdown or emotional fit. But I'd almost forgotten the way school wears you down, and how any season other than summer doesn't allow for deep slumber. I forgot how everyone switches into survival mode and I can never seem to make time for mornings spent writing songs in my underwear or taking the Max downtown with no destination in mind or country drives with the windows down. Now there has to be a plan, a due date, and it's getting too cold to roll the windows down. And it'll be this way for the next nine months.

Then again, this is the end of high school. I'm not giving up yet. And I'll fight bitterness away, but for the first time I'm not afraid of losing myself, and I'm not jealous of anyone else's life.

I know I'll make it.
And at least I can be proud of myself for that.

2006-08-23T00:33:00.000-07:00

One of my least favorite things to see is people not taking themselves seriously. Not in contradiction of the "don't take yourself too seriously" philosophy because clearly we are all just people trying to do the best we can in life, but what I mean is ... certain people who are thought of in just one way. Funny, slutty, badass. And so often they settle for that because they don't see, or can't risk, choosing something else. Something better for themselves.

I see people and know they're beautiful and wish they knew it too, but I can't tell them because usually, it's not my place. And I'd like to say "I love you" but usually that's not really true, it's just that I love them for being people and having hidden things in them and the potential to create so much light in the world. And I just wish they would be able to take themselves seriously enough to discover their own light.

I feel scattered and unready. But when have I ever been ready? Seriously? It hasn't stopped me yet ...

2006-08-18T00:40:00.000-07:00

There's this lady who I serve named Lotta. She is 98 years old and she moved in just a couple days after I started working. She has issues with memory loss but for the past few weeks, I've just noticed a general vacancy or confusion about meaningless details, like, where the bathroom is, if anything at all. She often calls me cutie and kisses me goodbye on the cheek and has amazingly good humor for someone who's been seen 70 years' worth more life than I have.

Today she had no idea who I was, where we were, or what was going on. She didn't remember how old she was or what she'd done in life or whether she had grandkids, or much at all. I had to re-explain to her how she, along with a lot of people at the place where I work, forgets things sometimes, and today she was forgetting more than normal. She started crying and clutching my hand and asking me questions and insisting how she never used to have problems like this.

I'm not going to talk down to someone who's lived so much more than I have, and tell her, "you have memory loss, it's just a part of getting older, you're okay." I held her hand and looked into her eyes and told her honestly that I didn't know how to explain things because I couldn't imagine her frustration and fear and that I was sorry but if she could please trust me, that she would remember more the next morning when she woke up, and feel better. It was heartbreaking.

When we're born as babies, everything in us begins to grow. Our bodies grow bigger and stronger, our minds more experienced and wiser, our hearts stronger and free to love. We grow to be toddlers, children, teenagers, adults. At what point do we start deteriorating? When do we start breaking down and getting weaker? Are our lives, from that point outward, just downhill slopes? Is the rest of time just spent growing smaller and more tired 'till we completely exhaust ourselves and die?

Well, no, I don't think so. Our lives should be measured in more than what's apparent. But how?

A bunch of us went to the beach yesterday. It was beautiful, in spite of gray skies, one of my favorite days of summer. Lauren and I half woke up at numerous times during the night, which is unusual for us.

"Allison!" (I had rolled over to her side).
"Oh, I'm sor-"
"I love you so much!" (Sleepy Lauren embraces me at whatever AM, and doesn't remember it in the morning.)

I'm amazed that some love never, ever stops growing.

2006-08-04T10:10:00.000-07:00

I've been working at a nursing home as a server in the dining room, and I really like it. I mean, not the work itself; that part is brainless, mundane, and somewhat clammy, but the old people. There are usually a few frustrating grouchy people, but for the most part, they are amazing, and sometimes my heart swells with love just taking their order for special #1 on the menu, liver and onions.

Honestly, going into the job, I thought that if I derived anything real from it, it would be some sort of acceptance of deterioration and death. And maybe I just haven't been sufficiently immersed yet to gain that perspective, but more than anything, I've been amazed at most of the peoples' positive outlooks towards life. Even people who are in wheelchairs, going blind or deaf, frail and wrinkled, will look at me and smile and comment that it's such a beautiful day.

These people are able to appreciate the simplest, most natural gifts of the world while me and my friends spend time lamenting the impending end of summer, a less exciting night around the bonfire, responsibility of any sort. And I'll bet the old people did the same thing when they were our age, and for years afterward, but maybe it takes us years and years of loss and understanding to gain the most important thing, a sense of gratitude for life.

In other thoughts ... the end of summer is coming, much sooner than I feel comfortable with. And that's the way it's always been, I guess. The first entry of this particular journal consists of me complaining about the upcoming registration, and worrying about having people at Jesuit, and being sad about my friends leaving -- and yes, I still have apprehensions about these things, but in different ways -- considering everything that happened this year, with finding my own passions in English and Journalism, and becoming close to some of my now-best friends, and cancer all over again, I almost want to laugh. I have to keep the mindset that maybe next year, getting ready to head off to college, what I'm worried about now may seem trivial then, too. Or maybe things really are different.

Relatedly, I have my summer song.

"I'm still singing
twisting new melodies, breaking arrangements
Thinking about my heart
I guess you've heard, that sometimes it's heavy
But I just keep moving
When I hit a wall, I look up at the sky
Thinking about my maker
You know, in spite all this, I know she won't give up on me
And it's okay for you to care...
I only wanted to begin."

2006-07-22T12:25:00.000-07:00

She's picking her moment, she's making her plans
All of her dreams are dying to fly
He's grown so tired of the hollow facades
He misses the summer that he felt alive

We're singing the old songs, we're drowning in air
Declaring our love but living alone
Some of us leaving, some of us stuck in time
All of us needing a place to call home

Please don't say there was never a point
Please don't fail to notice the beauty around
I'm just one person and I've come here on my own...

2006-07-10T15:59:00.000-07:00

I like standing up on MAX because I like how my body sways as the train speeds up through the tunnel. I like looking at the people and listening to conversations and imagining what we'd talk about if we were left alone, and if it was over coffee, what would they order. I like deciding where to get off only when I get there.

I like walking with Ben Lee's music floating in my head. "I think about the city, it's living proof that people need to be together." I like smiling with eye contact and people smiling back. I like not knowing where I'm going. I like looking at art in Old Town but admitting that I don't often "get it". I like being alone, but only in the city.

I sit in Pioneer Square and watch people live and feel overwhelmed because I am so in love with Portland and the people who make it so beautiful. I love the little boy chasing pigeons all over the red bricks and I love the woman from Minnesota who's really only interested in finding bargains and I love the girl with the same camera as me who's writing in her notebook. Portland's where I live and today I didn't need anything but to exist in its heart.

"I'm still singing, twisting new melodies, breaking arrangements
Thinking about my heart, I guess you've heard, sometimes it's heavy
But I just keep moving; when I hit a wall, I look up at the sky..."

2006-07-02T20:02:00.000-07:00

I want to write, but I'm not sure how much I have to say. The heat's dulled my senses and maybe my mind. I've been feeling things without being able to explain why. I've been listening to songs of summers past and feeling panicked even though things have been okay.

What you feel is what you are and what you are is beautiful.
And there's this burning, just like there's always been.
Everyone deserves a chance to fly.

I've learned so much from these summers; they're a large part of what's made me whoever I am today. But I guess I feel as if there's something preventing me from knowing who that is. Or maybe I know exactly who I am and there's little left to learn and that's that. I think that wanting more allows me to become more. I think that needing meaning creates meaning. And I'm pretty sure that loving people and things so much you feel you could take off flying, only leaves room for you to love them more.

I want more. I need meaning. I love, I love, I love. I'm willing to keep trying and try harder and hang on and have a fucking blast even when I'm tired or afraid. I'm here and I'm living hard and I hope I can keep it up; I hope everyone is learning the most important things for them to to hold onto.

Always,
Painting the Town Your Favorite Color.

2006-06-25T01:24:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure if it had more to do with the way you glowed in the fluorescent porch lights or how I wondered how I looked to you, but tonight as you spoke to me, it sent me spinning back to four years ago when I first met you, being so intimidated and awestruck. And how if someone had told me then how we'd be close friends, and I'd write you a letter every single day you were gone and you'd dye my hair and we'd read in bed to each other before we slept and how we'd see each other all the time -- I'd be destroyed by disbelief. Totally blown away.

And I'm thinking about the potential for how something I'm not even aware of at the moment, could be my entire world four years from now.

Unimaginably amazing things from the future shouldn't scare me.
But I'm fucking terrified.

2006-06-12T00:06:00.000-07:00

Today I was playing guitar by myself in the choir room at Jesuit while my friends were onstage rehearsing for "Nine Lives," Lauren's cabaret-esque show of her life -- (which by the way, is this Friday and Saturday at 7:30 at Jesuit; all are welcome, and it's free) -- but anyways, I started playing "Tears in Heaven" and was remembering how Miko played it at Brett Davies's funeral the summer after our freshman year, and suddenly I glanced at my phone and realized it was June 11th, 2006 -- exactly two years after he died.

With unexpected sensitivity I started crying. I thought about how, for me, an immeasurable amount has changed, and how, in that time, I've learned to love life. I was crying because I just know that if Brett had lasted through that time in his life, he would've been okay, and someday, he would have learned to love life, too. I spoke out loud to Brett about hoping he has found a way to somehow live, and continue to love, and for his family, that they're still able to feel his care. I put down the guitar and started playing "Konstantine" on the piano; it was one of my favorite songs around the time of that summer. It's a passionate and vulnerable song, and as I played and sang, the lights began to flicker, almost in rhythm.

It didn't seem strange to me, though, partially because I was so wrapped up in the song and feelings and partially because I figured that my friends onstage were somehow accidentally tweaking with the building's electricity. I played on. There's this climatic moment in the song because it's a beautiful nine minutes and 36 seconds long, and it goes "did you know I miss you?" seven times. On the third or fourth time, the lights went completely out.

The thing is, my beliefs about what happens after people die are largely undefined, but if I pay attention to my gut, I feel like that was Brett, telling me in a way that he'd heard me and that he still feels everyone down here. It was strange but it was a calm sort of amazing, and I sat in the dark a while just to be.

"It's hard to stay mad, when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst... and then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life."
[American Beauty]

It's summer. And miraculously, it was a beautiful day.

2006-06-06T08:37:00.000-07:00

Dear Ms. Festine,

You should know that last September, I intended to hate Junior year and everyone in it. This was largely due to bitterness over my two best friends going off to college shortly prior to the beginning of school, an ongoing riff between my mom and I, and stale annoyance and general dislike towards my class and Jesuit as a whole.

Now, in June, at the end of my Junior year, things are entirely different. Rather, I see everything in a completely different light. A lot of the change in my perspective has to do with circumstance – situations I’ve found myself in, and previously unfamiliar feelings and concepts that I now experience on a daily basis. Throughout the year, I’ve collided with people and things that have aggressively challenged me to seize the immense risk of being honest with myself. It sounds so simple, but I suppose a part of the perpetual fear is that everything in life is so much more simple than everyone wants to make it out to be. Now, overshadowing the inevitable annoyances, I appreciate both the greatness and shortcomings of my class and Jesuit High School. Somehow, I’ve come to love life.

I can’t claim that our Fourth period English class was solely responsible for this drastic change, but I will be the first to explain that it played an essential part.

Through class discussions, creative writing, and the interaction that began to grow beyond room 42, the individuals in our class opened up in their respective styles to reveal parts of their own true selves. This surprised everyone involved, but because of the trust we all invested, we grew to become an unlikely but strong community of friends.

I’ve accepted the fact that I will never find a place where I like every person around. But this Fourth period English class showed me the deep value that exists in the journey of finding the beauty that resides within everyone. I truly believe this – that beneath logistical differences, disagreements, and other pettiness – the core of peoples’ existence is composed of a simple yet radiant love. Fourth period English has affirmed my belief that the human race is not necessarily doomed for destruction.

People are good. And people are what make life worth living.

So thank you, Ms. Festine, for being such an integral part of this experience. I wish I could provide a less overused adjective than ‘life-changing,’ but why complicate things? This class made a huge difference in my initially doomed Junior year, and therefore, a meaningful impact on me, myself.

You have been a part of this class in helping to shape who I am and to change me, hopefully for the better. And isn’t that the point?

With sincere love and gratitude,

Allison

2006-05-30T17:30:00.000-07:00

I've learned a lot of things this year, and one of them is that words lie. Art is merely an expression of the essence and truths of our beings and the closer it comes to resembling the original feelings, the more beautiful it turns out to be. But it's important that we don't let expressions of art replace what's actually in our hearts -- just because nothing can actually capture that, so we must live to manifest it all.

Literally and less importantly, I write a lot, and even when I don't weave any lies or stories, I feel dishonest because of the notion that I can't capture myself in art. But as long as I keep in mind that I'm not exactly anything definable, I think it's totally valid. That said, I wrote this on an index card today ...

I contemplate death a lot. On sunny days I drive to the cemetery and sunbathe at the top of the hill, surrounded by tombs and gravestones, and I think about how each memorial is meant to honor a real person. How each one represents a life of ecstasy, agony, and love that at one time changed the world. How every person means something to somebody else.

Then I go to a concert, the mall, a school assembly, and see all the people -- talking, touching, hurting, living -- and I wonder why so few of us fail to consummate how meaningfully beautiful these peoples' lives are now.

"Are you in love with her?"

"No ... I'm in love with you. And I'm in love with your beautiful woman. And I'm in love with your kids. And I'm even in love with your unborn child. I'm even in love with your anger! I'm in love with anything that lives!"

[In America]

2006-05-14T12:24:00.000-07:00

The happiness now is part of the pain later.
The pain later is a part of the happiness now.

I keep hearing this in Problems of Faith and it's finally making sense. I feel like I could learn this one million times and every time it would mean more. When you allow yourself to love, of course you let pain in. People hurt, people leave, people die. We all know this to some extent, but we all perpetually lament the pain we experience.

But how could I, or anyone, possibly regret one single second spent loving so truly? I could never. I won't, ever.

It's hard for me to be happy when such terrible things are happening and the worst is yet to come. But it's impossible for me to just be sad when there's so much beauty surrounding me and so much fucking love, always flowing in and out, as enveloping as an ocean, but somehow more overwhelming. What I've been learning the past month or so is, I won't be happy. With all the tragedy and natural evil and unbearable pain, I may never really be happy. But I'm fine. I'm more than fine; I'm so fufilled. This, to me, is so much more important than being happy.

"There are so many perfect ideas in this town. But love, like a mushroom high compared with the buzz from cheap weed, outlasts grief. It does. Love is everything. It is the greatest of these. And I think that we all use whatever is in our power, whatever is within our reach, to attempt to keep alive the love we've felt."

So often, the simplest thing is the truest.

2006-04-23T20:57:00.000-07:00

I want to be a part of the world around me.

This evening, instead of getting ahead with homework, Beth and I walked to Chapman Park by her house. We read for a while in the grass -- she's borrowing my copy of Perks and I'm reading The Great Gatsby for school -- with background music of a group of kids playing baseball in the field. I got a little distracted; I wanted to climb trees but I didn't have any shoes, and I started watching the kids playing baseball. They hit a softball with a plastic bat, wearing high tops and going barefoot, a few boys but mostly girls, of all different ages -- and all of a sudden I just wanted to play so damn bad.

Beth was amused, watching me inch closer and closer to the field but getting nervous; I didn't know how to play, or who to ask, and I didn't want them thinking I was trying to be cool or funny or intimidating or anything. But finally I just couldn't take it and I asked the catcher, "can I play with you guys?" and although she wasn't sure about what position would best suit me, she pointed me in the direction of a shortstop-ish position, which I was content with.

We only played for about 10 or 15 minutes together -- almost all the girls were sisters, and their British dad had to take them home -- he would say, "five more minutes!" and five minutes later he would say, "four more minutes!". The girls had beautiful names like Isobel and Imogen and Clementine ("you can just call me Clemmy") and they didn't forget mine once and while we were waiting to hit I talked to the oldest one about going to high school next year. And I hit the ball not very far but managed to run all the way to second base, barefoot on the dusty field.

I'm not leading up to a life changing event -- we said goodnight, and it was nice to meet you, and I probably won't see them again -- but I'm just glad I worked up the courage to ask a few kids to play.

Because tonight, I became a part of the world around me.

2006-04-20T23:54:00.000-07:00

"I wonder if I'll ever meet a underclassmen and just click with them. I hope so. That sort of happened with Allison this year at camp. But she's two years younger. So -- no -- that is the same." (What?)
--Lauren, 2002

I spent the last hour and a half or so typing up 10 pages of Lauren's diary, (in preparation for her show in June) from early childhood to her sophomore year. Funny ... it's so striking how pain always exists in our lives by taking different forms and inhabiting different bodies. Same with love.

You can love how your favorite shirt feels across your shoulders and love the way a song moves your insides to affect your outside and you can come to love a person so intensely that everything else in the universe disappears. Love, love, love, isn't it the often root of our deepest pain? What force, action, noun, and verb is so great that we are willing to lose ourselves and be cut down and experience merciless pain? There's no way to articulate why love is worth it. In spite of everything, there is love, and that's enough.

It's not that love isn't enough to ease pain, save a life, or change the world. It's just that love wasn't meant to be a band-aid or a medicine; instead we are to build our lives and beings around love because throughout uncertainty it will lead us to the greatest good.

It's been a very long day and now I want to get through the next two weeks all right.

"Let me die the moment my love dies.
Let me not outlive my own capacity to love.
Let me die still loving, and so, never die."

2006-04-06T21:16:00.000-07:00

Today while driving, I got stuck in front of the railroad tracks in Northeast, waiting for a very long freight train to pass. Well, that's sort of a lie. I'd seen it from the previous intersection and chose to wait, instead of going a different way. I immediately figured on writing about it.

I remembered this day -- on the way down to the dock, we got stuck waiting for a train on the very same tracks. I remember it so clearly. Me, Lauren, Tai, Alex, and Miko, listening to "The Only Living Boy in New York" ... bobbing heads, genuine smiles, and harmonies, and I distinctly recall thinking, wow, I hope this train keeps us waiting here forever.

And although I thoroughly appreciated the several minutes we felt stranded under the bridge that summer afternoon, of course the train eventually ended; the moment had to come to an end.

Everyone talks about time like it's such a crazy bitch, when really it's the only thing that ever makes sense. But isn't it insane that time is infinite and nonexistent in the same instant? And that although it can never really stop, it seems we never have enough?

I'm not really going anywhere with this. The past two and a half months have seemed to fly by; then again I feel as if this weight on our backs has always been with us, even though that doesn't make sense, either.

All there is to do is live. Because this beauty and pain may be everything we'll ever have.
And right now I'm just trying to see that possibility in the sweetest light possible.

2006-03-27T10:20:00.000-08:00

Listen to The Bus Stop by Theart.

Sometimes I wonder if the things I want to be are really just things I am.
And maybe they just haven't come out yet.

I'd like to think that's how it is.

There are things I'm afraid of being.
I'm afraid that as much as I say I'd like to go to an east coast school in Boston, New York, or D.C. that I wouldn't be able to handle it. I turned down a trip to Europe without even thinking about it just because I wanted to be here with people I know.

I rationalize that with the fact that I won't be able to be with these people forever. And my friends are amazing and who wouldn't want to spend time with them, right? And on and on.

But I don't want to be someone stuck in Portland, Oregon just because I recognize things and people and feelings. It's not that I think it's not a wonderful place to live or that I shouldn't be content staying somewhere; it's just that there is so much more and I don't want to settle for something that's always familiar and just fine.

Like, I don't know. There's a lot of people I can let go of. There's a lot of people that I see on a regular basis now, but in a year, or maybe less or more, I'll never talk to them. But some people I won't let go of. Because I don't want to and because I don't know how and because I couldn't do it if I tried -- and I don't want to try. I don't know if this is a flaw of too much loyalty or misguided love, but I really hope not because truthfully the only option for me is to follow these feelings.

And that's where the initial question gets scary. Sometimes I wonder if the things I want to be are really just things to keep me hoping. There's just too much I want to be. And maybe all I can be is an older version of things I am now.

(different kinds of happy)

But I really hope not.

"I'm searching for words but I'm blind and I've lost concern of anything I could ever find in the dark. I've pondered the fact that maybe I'm too opaque. Or maybe I'm dull and I overuse what I lack.

The season is ending and I'm still waiting for your call. I misunderstood that you understand all of my faults. Through all of my dreams, you woke me up.

This faith that we've wanted, this faith that we've needed, this faith that we've gotten is more than we need. So why do we fight? Why do we fight?

If we're empty, what borders us? If we can't think, then where is our trust? If we're sailing and our minds are set, where are our eyes and where are our heads?

And I won't leave this world without you. And blithely I, won't let you past my hand. And I won't leave this world without you."

Yet I know that when it comes down to it there is only one thing I can be that I know that I'll be okay with no matter what.

2006-03-12T23:44:00.000-08:00

This will destroy you.

This weekend, I was driving with someone I love an hour and a half from Portland into Monmouth, Oregon. It was beautiful -- bare tree branches stood out starkly upon the sherbert colored sky, creating a picture I couldn't possibly capture on film (though I tried). We were listening to "Trapeze Swinger" and often singing along and I kept thinking "Okay, time -- stop. This is good. Or, here? No?" But no, not then. Nor during "What Sarah Said" or "Acoustic #3".

We could never stop time, no matter where it leads us.

Long car rides through places you've never seen have a tendency to make you think. Or at least give you room to. So on the way home I looked up to the dark cloudy sky, around to the other speeding cars, and ahead to the city lights. I wished the stars were out. I wondered where the other cars were going but realized I didn't care. Looking ahead I realized that it's been hard, and it's only going to get harder.

I don't have something clean, easy, or inspirational to tie this up with. All I know is that I will always be here. My best friend is going to be okay, and the rest of us are, too, and someday we'll all be together and it won't hurt like it does now.

I believe in your victory.

2006-02-28T21:32:00.000-08:00

I don't always believe this is true but I'm going to fall back on the saying that a picture is worth a thousand words. And maybe sometimes a song is worth more.
Note: to be viewed listening to Daybreak's "Split in the Sidewalk". (Download here.)

"I don't see why people complain about love...

I don't see why people want to throw it away

Because I can tell you, I can say

love's alright with me

it's taking up most of my time"

I don't know how but we're going to be okay.

2006-02-21T20:29:00.000-08:00

"All right, I can say what you want me to
All right, I can do all the things you do
All right, I'll make it all up for you
I'm still in love with you
I'm still in love with you."
[Stars - Heart(live version)]

Sometimes just staying conscious, staying awake, staying alive makes me so tired. But it's gotten to the point where I could never give up. If only for one reason, one person, and I don't care how that sounds to anyone because I know what I believe. As much as I appreciate Problems of Faith class -- fuck all the theories of metaphysics, because I know what's real to me and to me that's all that matters. I know that I'm making a huge sweeping generalization but honestly if this is all I have, and if there's nothing after the life I know, this is all that matters.

Aside from the meaningful parts of real life ... junior year hit me hard last week. I was ridiculously stressed out because of the junior paper, a few tests, and a lot of homework, and beyond that I was pissed off that I was stressed out because I understand that I'll get through it (I mean, think of all the Jesuit High School tools who have made it beyond junior year in the past...) and in the long run it won't matter anyway.

I played at Coffeehouse, which was exciting! Honestly, not in an oh-tell-me-I-rocked way, I felt like I could have performed a lot better ... I was nervous in spite of my excitement. But there's one more to go this year, and a lot of people went out of their way to tell me they liked it, anyway. Making music has actually become a fairly significant aspect of my life; it's definetley an outlet for my cliche teenage myriad of emotions and most of the time I'm glad to just be creating anything at all.

Until the next time I feel like procrastinating, with all my love...

"I want more, for you!"
[Stars]

2006-02-12T00:11:00.000-08:00

"We will always be a light"

After the (amazing, wonderful, fantastic) Stars concert ended Thursday night, Lauren and I crossed back over the Ross Island Bridge and took the long way home. "We're going to go past my old house," she told me, although I was driving. "Then let's go by mine, too," I agreed. They were both on the way home.

Patton Court was steeper than I recalled. All I could really remember about the house I lived in with my mom till I was about eight were small, specific things, like how once an Easter egg was hidden in the numbers nailed beside the door, and wearing tap dancing shoes on the deck, and being afraid of coyotes in the forest behind the house. "We used to be so rich," Lauren mused; her old house was huge, one of the highest points in the West Hills. We drove the loop around her neighborhood and she told me about alcoholic neighbors, holiday parties, picking blackberries. It's funny, the things we remembered.

Today I found myself in Northeast Portland on 21st Avenue in front of the house I lived in with my dad until I was about five. Very little came back to me: tacky pink and green hippopotamus wallpaper my dad tore down from my bedroom walls to paint them white, the childless, ultra-liberal next door neighbors I'd visit and receive Golden Books from, the old man in the green house next door. I wonder now if the couple welcomed me or thought I was annoying; I wonder if the old man was lonely. Once I was walking our dog Shortstop with my Dad when Shortstop was attacked by a pit bull; I had to run home to tell my stepmother to call the vet, and I almost got lost in spite of our house being less than three blocks away. Another time I threw rocks to break the glass windows in our own shed, because an eight-year-old neighbor boy encouraged me. Later, however, my conscience got the better of me, and I confessed to my mother and later to my father. The rickety swingset in my backyard, marvelously unsafe. The steep carpeted stairway. A Superman-themed birthday party and cheating in "Pin the 'S' on Superman".

Twelve years ago, I believed what people told me about right and wrong, and the tooth fairy, and Heaven. I didn't know you. These things come back to me in vague waves of memory but that's not who I am and although they happened to me, it doesn't feel like my life. Maybe it's just been too long for me to recall how I really felt; maybe I'm omitting some profound part of me and it's unfair to say none of it meant much aside from just being my past. But you know?

"There is only one thing. There's nothing after that but you and I. Nothing after that but you and me."

I realized today that if there's no God or Heaven and Hell, and if all we and our world is, is a result of science and evolution, if my perception of reality is total bullshit and I am nothing but a thought floating in space, it doesn't even matter. Because I know what I believe is real and what matters, and that's love, and I'm going to live according to that.

"For once, let's just allow ourselves to be whatever it is we are."
[Garden State]

2006-02-05T16:18:00.000-08:00

"I would love to be alive
I would love to know that we will never die"
[Second Sunrise]

I get chills when I sing along with these lyrics ... go to their Purevolume site and listen to "It Felt Like a Movie, So I Had to Do It". A little Taking Back Sunday poser-esque but I really like that song.

For some reason I had it in my head that once I got through finals, life would be a little more manageable. But HEY junior paper and college night and Mr. Cammann being more and more of an asshole every second period class! I mean it's fine, I'll get through it like everyone does, but it's just sort of a thing that feels unneccessarily stressful, you know?

It's nice to have Lauren home and wonderful to be able to see her all the time but kind of still terrible to consider the circumstances and think about why. Same with Nic. I'm really grateful for the time we're all spending but it seems like no matter what else I try to focus on, the one big thing is always there and for me it always seems to fill the silence like a flood.

"And it came to me then that every plan is a tiny prayer to Father Time."

I don't have a lot to say except that I'm really grateful that with all the sometimes insane shit thrown into my life, I've been blessed with some of the best people in much more of a lasting way.

Here's a song. You're something I'll believe in. Love love love.

2006-01-26T16:48:00.000-08:00

I picture you in the sun...

"I'm sitting in math class, not paying attention because we're correcting the homework I didn't do. My gums hurt. I can feel my wisdom teeth coming in. I'm wearing my Portland Love sweatshirt. I'm thinking about how to get out of the JUG I got from the substitute teacher in Spanish class yesterday, and whether or not I'll go for a run after school. And how this moment, dull though it may be, is more precious than any moment I'll have when you're gone."

Most of the time when my thoughts are expressed in words I have written the phrases much sooner than my pen hits the paper, or my fingers touch the keyboard.

Today I went on my first real run since cross country season, three or so miles around the old, familiar Fairmount loop -- something which used to be an easy Sunday morning run. Before I even set out I pictured myself writing, "it felt just how running used to and should feel. Back to the healthiest days of my sophomore year when it was my outlet for rage and a catalyst of joy. It hurt, but in a good way." After the first mile though, I knew this would be a lie. It hurt like hell. The ligaments in my knees were so tight I feared they'd snap and my ankles were weak and unforgiving. I tried to channel all I cared about into staying strong and I went so far as to pray I could keep running.

And I obviously made it home in one piece, but I would like to feel stronger than I did today.

I miss you.

"When you showed me myself, you know
I became someone else
But I was caught in between
all you wish for and all you need
I pictured you fast asleep
A nightmare comes; you can't keep awake.
May God's love be with you, always."
[Joseph Arthur]

2006-01-09T03:03:00.000-08:00

"And that's when I knew I really loved her.

Because there was nothing to gain, and that didn't matter."

[Perks of Being a Wallflower]

It's 3:00 AM on the first day of the week. Instead of starting the analytical portion of my term paper on Joan Didion which is due tomorrow, I just finished recording an acoustic version of "Wonderwall". I'm not worried. I know I'll be tired, but I'll make it through. I believe it is up to me to decide what the important things to feel are.

Like everyone, I don't know how to react. I heard the news of our world changing last Tuesday night and it still doesn't make sense. Like everyone, I'm devastated in the deepest way. I'm not yet beyond the somewhat random and overwhelming bursts of fear and sadness and frustration, but they are becoming more sparse. I explained tonight that I often feel guilty for being anything less than completely dumbstuck but my feelings haven't changed and I still care harder than I care about anything else. I know I don't have to apologize for my feelings because I know you understand but still. You know? I know you do.

but after all.

For you, I will be here in every way I can dream of existing. And no matter how little I know about life, I can solemnly swear and sincerely believe that our love will live, for whatever forever there may be.

2006-01-02T16:10:00.000-08:00

"I wasn't sure what to expect, but now I couldn't wish for more of anything but time."

I wrote that a little over a week ago and then decided I'd rather spend time with my friends instead of blogging about them.

Well I've got time now. I'm grounded for a typical amount of New Year's trouble, and no one can come over here and I can't go to my friends houses' (I'm allowed to go out to other places, till 6pm...?) and this goes on for two weeks, then another two weeks of no sleepovers. But I could care less about that; this week is the one that hurts. New Year's Eve and the day after were maybe the worst days I can remember ever having. All I did yesterday was sleep and cry and regret things. I take full responsibility for what happened, and I'm not looking for sympathy, but it just really sucks.

But hey, everything up till then was really amazing. The real-life airport scenes were surreal and felt like a dream and the rest was simple and wonderful and I couldn't really wish for more.

Subjecting myself to being the doll/project/WHATEVER she loves me, okay?

And we were finally together.

I don't understand how this beautiful girl can distort her face to this horrifying degree.

Some intense Cranium with the gang...

And the best moments, I don't have pictures of. Like 4 AM freestyling rap battles (call my dead cell phone and listen to my answering machine to hear a product of the night, haha), hours and hours of "Sex & the City" with the corresponding stories and questions, on my end, and Zoo Lights and late night drives, and singing and dancing and playing music, and three to a bed every night, and talking so late and loving and loving and loving so much I could feel it in my chest and head and everywhere.

I'm not going to lie, though, I'm really afraid of saying goodbye for a second time. The first goodbyes, in late August, are still so vivid and bittersweet and I guess I'm just afraid of how everything will be without them, again. And just in the past couple days a lot has changed in how I think about things and I think I need these people and I don't know why that is but I believe it. And I might even want to be a better person.

BORN ON THE CUSP by the American Analog Set.

I'll be here.

2005-12-16T17:42:00.000-08:00

I don't know if you ever envision a scene from your life as being like one from a movie.

But for at least a few weeks now I've had one in my head. Standing at the airport in front of security, Sufjan Stevens's "Chicago" playing in the background.

All things go, all things go...

And I'm waiting for someone. And I have missed this person for a long time. I don't notice anyone else around me because they aren't as important as seeing this person. And for a minute I have my head down, looking, but not really, at the teal carpeted floors. And when I look up, the person is there walking towards me and everything is moving in slow motion and that one great part of the song is playing.

I've made a lot of mistakes, I've made a lot of mistakes...

And still in slow motion, we're running towards each other, more desperate than we have been the past four months. And we're there, we're together, hugging and embracing so hard and I'm crying and we're so close and I'm so relieved and this is just always how I pictured it.

About eight hours now.

Happy holidays.

2005-12-09T23:40:00.000-08:00

"Did you say my life was a shame,
that all of my promises were broken?
And did you hear, so loud and clear
that I just wanted to be with you, again."

I can't really say enough about how beautiful this song is so I'll just tell you, it's Jesuit seniors Chris Nye and Brittany Newell at the first Coffeehouse this year. And I really, really love it. Right click and download, "Did you Say."

A couple things happened today.

First of all, in Festine's 4th period English class, we were assigned to write a reflection on transcendentalism. There were some interesting papers with a lot of original insights, and there were some papers full of predictable, pretentious bullshit. And one quiet, shy girl I didn't really know was asked to read her paper, and she did -- and it was probably one of the most powerful pieces of writing I've ever heard.

I really want to avoid summing it up, because her unique voice and strong but quiet manner really added to its intensity. Basically she related to us, in a very striking style of honesty, the frustration she feels about herself and school, because it smothers the person she is and turns her into something she never realized she could be ... someone so terrified of being judged that she avoids people as much as possible and tries to become completely invisible. Her voice shook as she read to us, and by the end it'd gotten so intense that the room fell dead silent.

Our class was left blown away. Slackjawed. It was truly amazing.

Personally, it opened my eyes to see myself -- and the difference in that I surround myself with people and act out, sometimes outrageously, to prevent from being lonely, and she skips out on lunch to avoid even setting herself up. And somehow we both end up feeling sort of the same way. But I had so much admiration for her, because I feel like that while I settle into a haze of safe monotony, she doesn't let herself off that easily -- she refuses to sugarcoat her own truths, no matter what pain she must face. And this is something that, to me, makes her an overall strong and amazing person.

So I wrote her a letter, trying to articulate all this as much as possible. I did what I could. And I think she appreciated it, because when I saw her at Coffeehouse later in the evening, she approached me and we ended up hanging out the rest of the night.

It makes me wonder what sort of amazing people I've passed by without a second thought.

The second good thing that happened was, I performed! It's something I've always wanted to do, but never before have I been motivated or confident enough to follow through with. Not that I wasn't scared shitless; all day I was nervously plucking away at my dad's guitar, moaning nervously in intermittent spurts, feeling like I was going to piss my pants when I'd just gone to the bathroom.

But I did it. And I felt like it went pretty well. And I have no regrets in this regard.

That's probably a good place to end.

2005-11-30T21:00:00.000-08:00

and you find yourself weeping at 70 miles an hour
and music makes you weep
and you have had your worst day and your best day
on the same day of your life
and you lie in bed in the middle of the day
searching the ceiling for answers
and all you find are cobwebs & fingerprints'
and you want so hard to make some kind of connection
and yet you can't touch people
and you feel more desperate than before
and there is never enough time or enough love
and you feel like your senses have been deadened
and someone tells you that you're like a raw nerve
and you say that if you do nothing else in your life at least you have loved passionately and been loved
passionately...

I feel this SO much. Every day when I'm walking through my high school parking lot in the freezing cold air with my breath coming out in vapor I want to scream out and run and jump and fly and make people notice me and love me but every day I just bundle up and go to class and sometimes raise my hand and sometimes try to be funny but pretty much every day I just end up coming home at three and doing most of my homework and writing letters to the people I really love.

"When will it snow?
It's been raining for hours
and why do I feel so alone?"
[Lisa Loeb]

2005-11-24T21:35:00.000-08:00

So, I had a pretty unique way of discovering reasons to be grateful, this Thanksgiving.

On our way home from dinner, I got an unexpected text message: "Can you come over? I just need to be with someone. Preferably you." When we got home, I set out onto the dark wet streets. Nothing felt unusual.

Coming around the corner past the radio towers, the steering wheel jerked out of my hands -- I skidded towards the left and then overcompensated towards the right, and shit. It just happened so fast -- I crashed the car.

I was stuck in a ditch on the side of the road, right alongside the cemetery. I called my friend, and then my dad, and spoke to several people who slowed down to check if I was okay. Which I was. It was only eight or so when my dad arrived, and in less than an hour, we got pulled out of the ditch and I was able to drive home.

I'm grateful that I crashed on the side of the road without the pole. I'm grateful there were no other cars on the road when I skid, and I'm grateful that the cars which passed did stop to check. I'm grateful that there was no damage to me or the car. I'm grateful that every person I texted while I was waiting for the towtruck -- their first inclination was, "are you okay??" And I'm not going to lie, seeing the graveyard in the flashing lights of my hazards offered some chilling perspective.

So maybe it wasn't the ideal way to spend a holiday evening. But it could have been a hell of a lot worse.

Right click and download: "Dottie in a Car Crash" (a cool mashup).

To the friend I didn't end up getting to be there for...
"You know that place between sleep and awake, the place where you can still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always love you. That's where I'll be waiting."
[Hook]

2005-11-22T20:24:00.000-08:00

Less than a month till I won't have to count down anymore...!!! (Those exclamation points are my online expression of pending joy.) "Be Still My Heart" ... says the Postal Service. Please enjoy.

The Georgia trip and School of the Americas protest was pretty amazing. Mainly I experienced a lot of exposure and therefore gained a deeper perspective on a lot of things involving human rights and world peace. Sounds hippie, right? Yeah, there were parts of it that were over the top, like the overenthusiastic lady who tried to sell us "Diva Cups" and the speaker who suggested we throw George W. Bush into the sea. Or something to that effect ... I can't say I'm totally opposed, but come on now, let's keep our expectations realistic. But for the most part, the people I saw and met were amazing -- probably some of the most admirably passionate people I'd ever been around. Meeting some high schoolers who were intelligent, liberal-minded, and interesting also gave me a lot of hope, and a sense of belonging. (Because I'm SO those things, right?)

There's a whole fucking lot of injustice in the world. But what I've come to decide is, no, I can't just repeat my ever-handy "what can you do, right?" I cannot save the world on my own but if we all get together I'll sure as hell do my part. I'm not sure I could ever have the amazing conviction and dedication I saw in a lot of people at the Ignatian Teach-In and protest, but it is something I will strive for.

It's funny, though -- it becomes much easier to hope and work towards world peace, than it is to keep the tension low between hotel roomies, small groups, etcetera. I don't really have a solution for my frequent frustration and consequential aggression, or more often, passive-aggression. I want to say it'd be easier if we could all just have one big Fight Club but that's sort of not the point, is it?

"I said I'm going to buy this place and watch it go
Stand beside me baby, watch the orange glow
Some will laugh and some just sit and cry
But you just sit down there and you wonder why

Oh, I'm gonna buy a gun and start a war
if you can tell me something worth fighting for
And I'm going to buy this place, that's what I said
Blame it all upon a rush of blood to the head."
[Coldplay]

Oh God, and I saw the best concert of my life last week. Death Cab for Cutie. Stars opened. Totally amazing music and a wonderful experience, and I really don't have the words to describe it all any further.

Oh my, oh my, tomorrow is just another faux Wednesday -- that is, a Friday in disguise!

Looking forward to it.

2005-11-11T14:22:00.000-08:00

So I'm going to be completely unoriginal and not care -- the song of the season is definetly still "All These Things I've Done" by the Killers -- I hear it anywhere and everywhere, and always, at the bridge, someone will scream, "shh, guys, this is the best part!!" and start harmonizing with "I've got soul, but I'm not a soldier" before some non-hardcore headbanging and dancing. Enjoy.

November is moving along nicely. Last weekend I went to an amazing Decemberists concert, I'm now in the midst of a four-day weekend, Wednesday is the huge Death Cab for Cutie show. The next day I'm leaving for Georgia to attend the protest against the School of the Americas, and the next week is another four-day weekend for Thanksgiving! School has been getting harder, and I've been working harder, too. (Not like it matters to anyone else, but I currently have four A's, two B's, and one C+ ... thanks to Mr. Cammann's terrible chemistry class for that last one.)

Last year, I didn't work very hard or care about getting good grades, and I think it's because I had no incentive to work towards. But the way my dad seems to operate is, work hard, take initiative, and I can do what I want. It's definetly good motivation ... and of course, there's always college to think about. So I've been doing fine, I guess. I have truly been living for the weekends.

One thing I notice a lot are the dynamics between my friends and their parents. For me, even when I'm on good terms with my parents, we are still very distant. Sometimes I find them perhaps obnoxious or helpful, but I honestly don't have much emotional attatchment, at all. I feel like an ungrateful bitch, but I don't really like fraternal shows of affection, either. When I go to my friends' houses I notice the different relationships, and it seems like everyone is closer to their parents than I am. And while this makes me jealous, at times, and I wish I had something like that ... I don't want that, with my parents. I'm not even sure if that makes sense to anyone else, but I don't really understand myself, and again, it makes me feel like a bitch.

But. What can you do, right?

I tend to say that a lot and sometimes I think it's a healthy, relaxed outlook on life -- but from time to time, I wonder if it's just too dismissively passive.

I'm waiting for something.

"We don't know where we're going
But we'll get nowhere if we've forgotten where we've been."
[Maria Taylor]

2005-11-02T20:53:00.001-08:00

"Please remember me, my misery
and how it lost me all I wanted...
circles round the well, and where it spells
on the wall behind St. Peter's
so bright with cinder gray in spray paint:
'who the hell can see forever?'"

Every time I pull out my old red notebook, which used to be my most reliable place to write in, I feel like a traitor for not writing in so long. But then I think that maybe "the red books" were just meant for a certain time period of my life.

Relatedly, I've been listening to Jimmy Eat World's "Clarity" a lot lately. Which I used to be obsessed with and gradually just stopped listening to. It, too, reminds me of a very specific point in my life -- where nothing happened. Somehow, it's still very vivid to me. Mainly I just remember winter night drives home, by myself in my stepdad's car which I used to drive ... the sunroof would be open to the frosty night air and to the stars, and I would speed pointlessly and scream along to "Crush," "Just Watch the Fireworks ," and "For Me, This is Heaven." I've seen so much and been so many places since then. It's funny to think about.

Mainly it just makes me nostalgic for any sort of sad past. Like saying goodbye. Like waking up at four in the morning and knowing that from that point on things would never be the same and not yet realizing that what I needed to do was hold on, without holding anyone back. And lying three to a hammock as close and as together as we could possibly get.

Again. Things have changed a lot since then. And I don't know how everyone else feels about me, but I'm convinced that the good won't come out of me. So as easy as it would be to second guess everything and doubt myself, I'd rather just sit back and not only accept things how they are, but enjoy them.

Inspirational as fuck, huh?

"Nowhere and then nowhere, living trapped inside the chase
Our weakness is the same: we need poison sometimes.
So take another drink with me.
Look into my eyes and blame no one."
[Jimmy Eat World]

2005-10-27T20:59:00.000-07:00

Hello. It's a weeknight, and I write because for once, I have little to no homework.

Homecoming weekend was a smashing success, and some of the photos from which are available here. All in all it came down to the cliche, "everything is what you make it." You have to understand it's a meaningless, soon-to-be-forgotten high school dance, and do your best to have fun regardless. As soon as this change in mindset occurs, everything else just seems to work out for the best. But I'm sure the readers of this behind-the-times blog already knew that.

The next day was marvelous, too: me and a couple of girls jumped into leaf piles made with rakes and leafblowers; we took a mini-roadtrip to Sauvie's Island and ventured into the cornmaize and ate caramel apples, discovered and carved the perfect pumpkins, took pictures and listened to mixtapes. It was the freest I've felt since summer, and it was so relieving and good to be with people again, to talk honestly, and to feel -- for life, you know?

Now that cross country is over -- for life, an utter relief -- I have started coming home to an empty house in the afternoon. And stealing away with my dad's acoustic guitar and playing hard and pretending I can sing. I am so very rusty at the ol' six string, but since I'll have so much free time, sort of ... maybe I can get back to where I once was. (God-like, if you're wondering.) No, but it's nice to have some sort of a relief I can keep to myself. And the extremely loud shrill yell/sing combination is a good outlet as well.

"Oh fall, you're a comfortable lover
but I just can't take all the decay!"

Download Last by Gratitude. And if you ever have the oppurtunity to see them live, take it.

I'd had more written but blogger is being a bitch and honestly I don't feel like writing it again.

Love.

2005-10-22T10:09:00.000-07:00

I love concerts. From the pounding and vibrations of the music, to the heat of the masses of bodies, to the wafting scent of marijuana smoke, shows are vividly sensory experiences all around. I went to Iron & Wine last night at the Roseland. Me and my friend Mariel were in a pretty mellow mood, which at some point during the night, turned to lethargy ... but it was a nice show nonetheless. Calexico, M. Ward, and the lead singer of the Shins also played -- gotta love Portland. The highlight was, of course, Sam Beam playing with his sister: if their voices weren't as perfect as they are on their records, they were most definitely more alive and soulful. Here's a song from the new Iron & Wine/Calexico EP called 16, Maybe Less.

Read the book White Oleander by Janet Fitch. It contains maybe some of the best writing I've ever experienced. I've also finished reading Chuck Palahniuk's Survivor. Of course I liked it -- I mean, it's Chuck -- but I thought it was lacking in something I can't describe. I've got two more books of his to go, Choke and Stranger than Fiction, and I'm highly looking forward to them.

"People don't want their lives fixed. Nobody wants their problems solved. Their dramas. Their distractions. Their stories resolved. Their messes cleaned up. Because what would they have left? Just the big scary unknown."

That articulates one thing I tried to explain last Monday afternoon, when I found myself at a friend's house, first bitching and venting, eventually crying and explaining. At the time it didn't seem profound, more relieving than anything else, but that day was a turning point for me. At least, it inspired me to make a decision. Which, in simplest terms, is to be kinder. And I think I can see just that change making a difference in how happy or sad I am.

Homecoming is tonight! I hadn't expected to want to go until a couple of days ago. Maybe the change in attitude came with the breakdown, or with the junior class's amazing Powderpuff victory, but somehow, I am very excited for the evening.

About 55 days till Heaven, and salt.

"I've been held back by something
Yeah, you said to me quietly on the stairs
Always love. Hate will get you every time.
Always love."
[Nada Surf]

2005-10-15T23:52:00.000-07:00

Coming in after a rushed drive to make curfew, I immediately found my deserted red notebook and wrote the following:

"I feel so strange.
I was just at Amanda Heminger's. We watched Waking Life, this movie which is basically about dreams, life, and different theories on both. It puts you in a really confused yet content mood. The drive home was strange. I was so tired that I had to remind myself to keep my focus. It was raining hard and in some stretches of road there was so much fog I felt like I might as well be blind because I had no control.
Over the Sylvan exit, a parked car had its hazards on ... I stopped to say, 'is there anything I can do? Are you guys all right?' and one boy talked to me and said yes, the other's mom was on the way, but thanks so much! And I drove away and thought about how I could've married that kid but we'd probably never see each other again. And on curvey Humphrey Boulevard I startled myself by driving through this HUGE splash in a ridge and thought about how I could change my future entirely simply by letting go of the wheel. And how if I died no one would ever really know what I'd been thinking and that boy might not even find out that he was the last person I spoke to."

"They say dreams are only real as long as they last. Couldn't you say the same thing about life?"

Oh -- and download this Say Hi to Your Mom song. It's called Let's Talk about Spaceships. And as silly as it sounds, I really love its honesty and sweetness. So give it a chance, please.

I wouldn't mind another one, either.

MORNING UPDATE: Pretty much, Waking Life gave me the most confusing dreams I could ever have. I don't even remember exactly what I dreamed about except that they mostly consisted of me being like, "is this a dream? This is a dream, isn't it. Okay, I'm lucid dreaming; what do I do now." But I think for the most part the people in my dream acted annoyed that I denied their reality. And I slept till nearly one trying to control these dreams. Oh man.

2005-10-14T23:28:00.000-07:00

Hello,

Please download this song: The Umbrellas - The City Lights
"I've pushed away the dreams and spoiled all the quiet
Propelled by fear and not been righteous
So have you been to a place like this?
To see your breath as dreams against the sky
The fever is near, I wish you were here."

Basically, youth sucks because I'm feeling that me-against-the-world mindset and hearing all those discouraging voices my friends have told me about. How I will not like writing as a profession because the pay is too low, how I am not an original, and furthermore, a bitch.

Well if I don't make enough money to have cable television I'll have the OC and all I eat is cereal anyways and all I wear are my best friends' sweatshirts and my cords so I'll get by, and appreciate it. And if I'm not an original at least I know it: "At least I can admit it. Can you? Can you look at yourself in the mirror and admit that you are no different from every other bundle of bones on the planet? And maybe all that makes us difference are our hands, what they touch and what we do with them." (That was paraphrased from Please Don't Kill the Freshman but I'm pretty sure it's pretty close.) And a bitch? Grrl, pLeeeeZe! I'm so sick of stupid high school drama. I can't believe any of us even take ourselves seriously when we're involved with shit like that.

End rant that really would not have any other context but in an angsty online blog.

Basically I've been really restless. It's kind of the cliche of a hole in my life/heart/what have you, that nothing here could fill. I remember little things and they're what make me miss people most.

Today Caitlin Cruickshanks and I ventured out to the Portland Memorial "for the newspaper". I put that in quotes not because it's a flat-out lie, because I did write an article about it, but mainly I enjoy writing Unraveling the Fringe because it gives me an excuse to explore wonderful Portland. I can't really explain why it was so amazing, but it was. A mausoleum! You would never imagine its charm.

Pictures can be found here.

Check out this letter taped to a child's tomb:

"Nicholas--
I'm writing this to clear my mind.
I'm writing this because it is Mother's Day. I am your mother, and you are my son.

You were more than just a pregnancy.
You are my child.
You were my dreams.
You were my future.

You were to be a lot of things, dear child...
And now ... now you are my son.
You will stay alive in my heart and soul
and someday I will cradle you in my arms again."

For some reason reading this brought me to tears right there, in one of the many, seemingly generic freezing hallways. There are so many stories and we should not try to forget them, in order to save ourselves from pain.

So I continue to remember. Here, I'll be.

Goodnight.

2005-10-09T00:05:00.000-07:00

Because I am not nearly cool or indie enough to have a real mp3 blog, I've decided to share maybe one song per entry. So here it is (follow the link and wait to be able to click the 'download' button) : Since U Been Gone - covered by Ted Leo.

So. It's nearly mid-October. Which means, about 2 months till salt (Sam/Allison/Lauren/Tai, for the uninformed) reunites. Which doesn't sound that bad... but considering how long (or not long) they've been gone ... it's so out of reach.

I came to the simple realization today that sometimes you just feel a certain way and there's nothing else to it. You don't need complex words or thought processes to fully articulate it because it's truly simple. Tonight I was lying on Clare's bed when she was in the other room and James Blunt's "Goodbye my Lover" was on the stereo and I thought about how much I miss my friends who are gone. And I don't really need to say anything else. Because all it is, is, I miss them so much and want to be with them again.

I left Clare's and returned to the ragin' party at Jill's (rather under control actually but with quite a few people in attendance) and took a walk with this girl Caitlin and it was cold and wet out but we went streaking anyways. For me it was kind of an act of defiance against the stupid wet weather soaking my stupid tired spirit. Naked shrieking girls running down a dark street, adrenaline pumping, terrified of getting caught ... very cliche teenager. It made me think of summer and how much easier it was to be happy back then. For me, I was given the world, and the chance to do whatever I wished with it. So I did. Now that's all gone and I'm not really that good of a person and it's hard to find peace in such lonely times.

Driving home in the fog I could barely see and I was listening to my mixtape and I felt angry and desperate, and I skid dangerously on the curves, and I drove by Lauren's house, and I couldn't believe how much I missed her.

"Scars are souvenirs you never lose, the past is never far
Did you lose yourself somewhere out there?
Did you get to be a star?
Don't it make you sad to know that life is more than who we are?"
[Goo Goo Dolls]

2005-10-02T17:56:00.000-07:00

and in that moment ...

what's up - four non blondes
slow suicide - jamison parker
cloud 9 - distorted penguins
sympathy - goo goo dolls
neighborhood #1(tunnels) - arcade fire
soul meets body - death cab for cutie
all these things that ive done - the killers
we both go down together - the decemberists
fairest of the seasons - nico
it just is - rilo kiley
i will follow you into the dark - death cab for cutie

... i swear we were infinite.

portions for foxes - rilo kiley
california - phantom planet
name - goo goo dolls
return - OKgo
embers & envelopes - mae
watch the sky - something corporate
dignity & money - straylight run
we looked like giants - death cab for cutie
absence of god - rilo kiley
on the bus mall - the decemberists
love & some verses - iron & wine

"not pepper, but ..."
love.

2005-09-30T17:55:00.000-07:00

Cue every beautifully desperate, rain-embracing song you can think of. Off the top of my head, "Come Clean" by Hilary Duff (haha) and "Strong Pursuit in a Pearl District" by Council Crest. Blast it loud. Imagine every possibly harmony you could sing and choose one.

"I want to see a new day when it never stops raining at all
And I don't seem to care that I'm so unprepared for an early September rainfall."

Yes, it's the first real Portland rain that I can remember since last year. And kind of nice, running through the rain ... wisps of hair sticking to my face, smeared mascara, wanting to tear off my soaking wet t-shirt and break free. It kind of adds a final "fuck-it" to running, and somehow, this makes it more enjoyable.

This week was better? I guess? Super stressful school-wise, but considering the pressure, I think I managed well enough. No cross country meet either, so that probably helped. You know, I'm turning into a real bitch. Yesterday I totally got into a fight with the St. Andrew's Nativity School kids by throwing water at them through their open car window and then dumping the rest on the leather driver's seat ... I know, who does that, right? I think if people who see me at school saw me on the weekends around my friends like Clare and Jimmy they'd be surprised at what a good and pleasant person I can be. Not that I'm bragging, though, far from it... just, pretty much, the worst of Jesuit brings out the worst in me.

I really miss my east coast lovers. Really, really miss them. I'm living in your letters. And picture e-mails, texts, and phone calls. I'm hanging on.

"Time just proves too much, and we're wearing down again.
Should have been fall, with the memories of summer
The burn of the sun and the cold, oh fall
you're a comfortable lover but I just can't take all the decay."
[Gratitude]

2005-09-25T21:08:00.000-07:00

You start to believe that you are a writer when you're lying on your back, staring at the ceiling, thinking, "how can I best describe this moment" ... and the next minute you've got your notebook and a sharpie and you're scribbling furiously away about how the ceiling moved you. Maybe you understand what I mean. You're a writer when you think about things in terms how how you can write about them.

"So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be."

That's from the book Perks of Being a Wallflower, by Stephen Chbosky. I re-read it this weekend for the first time in a few years, I'm pretty sure, and loved it. So, so much. As soon as I finished, I was filled with an ache to write, and this is what came out onto the paper:

Reading the amazing lines of this book brings no solitude to my loneliness. It makes me think of mistakes that I've made and the people I've hurt and how sometimes I'm sad for no real reason except that there are people who I truly and deeply love, and one day will have to let go of. ... this book makes me want to bawl my eyes out because I miss you so much.

I spent the weekend with Clare Robeck. On Friday night we watched Vanilla Sky with Sam at her house, and Saturday morning her mom took us to a hot springs lodge, near the Columbia River. Between us and my book and emotions and writer's tendencies, it was just one of those times when I couldn't stop thinking about things. I couldn't have taken a walk or even a drive without thinking about the greater meaning and backstory of everything I saw. Consequently, we spent some time contemplating our personal frustrations ... but it was nice, and for the most part, it was a fun and relaxing weekend.

Yesterday it hit me just how right Chuck Palahniuk is: "My point is, if I'm honest, my life is all about me."I could tell you that what makes me happiest is loving my friends Lauren and Tai, and what brings me the most pain is letting down my little sisters just by being away. And you could empathize, you could take part in my joy, but no matter how much you cared, you could not feel just what I feel. And the same from me to you. And I think what love is, is finding someone ... and having all these reasons to be happy, and all these broken hearts, make more sense. Maybe all love is, is finding someone that makes you feel like you -- and life -- make sense.

But I'm just 17. So. You know.

"Please make me not so crazy, make me fall apart.
Make me think beautiful, unexpected thoughts.
I should mean more."
[Jamison Parker]

2005-09-18T22:01:00.000-07:00

This picture is me wearing a "speakerphone hat" listening to a song that the owner described as "Santa Claus is Coming to the Ghetto, or something like that." The owner of the hat happens to also be the owner of the house on the front cover of Chuck Palahniuk's book Fugitives and Refugees: A Walk Through Portland, Oregon. I happen to be seventeen.

And oh-so-subtlety witty. Bwa ha ha.

My birthday was Thursday and I didn't do much but it was nice nonetheless. I got an appropriate amount of attention (haha) and several nice notes -- most of which basically said, "Happy birthday! You're great! But you seem sad..." which was... fine I guess, kind of funny. From my father I scored Death Cab tickets for November, which I'm really looking forward to that. I recently had Plans burned for me and it is fantastic! One amazing song after another but I am particularly obsessed with the album's acoustic love poem, "I'll Follow You Into the Dark." Allow me to send it to you on instant messenger because if you are a good person you deserve it.

So I've been hating cross country lately, right? So of course I'd been dreading Friday, because Coach Roth and all the upperclassmen were building it up to be a very hard workout. And it was. Thousand repeats, a set of four. And although there were frustrating moments in the workout, and quite a lot of pain, "Team Zero" worked diligently to stay together and to come in at the proper time every single repeat. At the end of practice, we had a sort of competitive 800-meter race. [Final time = last finisher's time + amount of time between first and last runners.] So it is a full-out sprint and we have to stay together in order to get the best time. True pressure, and I was full of terror and desperation as the quickest girls used valuable breaths to shout encouragement to push me forward faster. Never once in this race did I give up, and honestly that's a first for this season. Physically it killed me but we finished strong and all in all it definitely brought us together on more than one level. So although I still don't feel that great about the season thus far, it was a far from discouraging practice.

Then I watched Crash at Sam's house with a large group of people. Oh my God, great movie, but possibly the most draining one I've ever seen. I don't want to say much except that it affected me deeply and although it's gruesome and terrible at times, it's something nearly everyone should see at some point. Please. Rent it.

"It's the sense of touch. In any real city, you walk, you know? You brush past people, people bump into you. In LA, nobody touches you. We're always behind this metal and glass. I think we miss that touch so much, that we crash into each other, just so we can feel something."

And today! As for further explanation for the above picture. I roped my fellow junior journalist Katherine Bakke into coming with me to help write a column called "Unraveling the Fringe: Exploring Portland". So today we drove many miles (much of them on wrong turns) to explore Belmont, Clinton Street, and the grand finale of the Our Lady of Eternal Combustion Church. At the last we met Reverend Chuck E. Linville, who is featured in Fugitives and Refugees as one of Portland's distinctly strange and lovable weirdos. He creates and drives art cars, belongs to the Cacophony Society of Portland, and is a registered minister(along with his dog Reverend Bill). Full story coming soon. For real. But yeah, we talked for over an hour and a half and it was totally awesome. It made me love, love, LOVE Portland even more than I already do.

But alas. I've got to be at Jesuit at 6:15 am for morning practice. You know what that means... um if you didn't, it means, goodnight.

"Well I never pray, but tonight I'm on my knees, yeah
I need to hear some sounds that recognize the pain in me, yeah
I let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind
I feel free now
But the airways are clean and there's nobody singing to me now!"
[The Verve]

2005-09-14T21:41:00.000-07:00

Today after school the cross country team bussed it out to Tualitin Hills. Matching in green jerseys, short shorts, and golden racing shoes, like every meet. Watching varsity race, warming up, striding across the grass field was unsettling and didn't help to lift the dread from the pit of my stomach. Sooner or later I found myself among dozens of teenage bodies, with more or less miles under their belt than I have.

Bang.

I start out fast. Although I've been discouraged, I can't help but hold on to a little bit of hope that something will fill me and help me to fly. I think of my love and my pain - my friends, my sweet sisters, everything that's gone on in the past year - everything that's inspired me in the past.

One by one, however, runners pass me. And I do nothing to stop them. If anything, my steps move slower. It's true that the odds are against me based on my recent training, but I am physically capable of beating them all. But that's not the decision I make. I just can't be motivated. Eventually I make it to the finish line, and instead of following the other athletes staggering back to the Jesuit tent, I make my way to the woods. I duck under the roped-off boundaries and walk until I'm out of sight - there, I sit down and hold my head in my hands and cry.

This is not about running.

I don't know how to explain myself except that nothing that I do feels completely right. And so much of what I say and do reflects someone I don't want to be. It's just too much.

"Nothing to fight, nothing to choose
maybe it's good, learning to lose..."
[Jason Robert Brown]

2005-09-11T13:01:00.000-07:00

Last night I made a summer collage on my wall and got rather sentimental. Some pictures I couldn't stop laughing out loud to myself, others I wouldn't dare surpressing my smile. Just thought I'd share ...
Looking back on all these memories, I think maybe that day on the dock was the happiest moment of my whole life. Driving down to the waterfront we were stuck at a railroad crossing: dozens of train cars blurred by and we patiently waited and harmonized to Simon & Garfunkel… and I found myself thinking that I could have sat there with these people for hours, just waiting.

And when we did get down there. It was so pretty, the sun shining down on the Willamette River, and the water reflecting our beautiful Portland. We were all so happy; my friends skipped and leapt down the ramp to the dock and I ran ahead to take a photograph of our joy.

So there we all were, with nothing but each other and everything in the world. When I would turn to one person or the other, euphoria would take ahold of my body and I left so full of love I could fly. Smiling, singing, and embracing as wakes from the boats gently rocked us all; I swear there was something unreal about these beautiful and fleeting moments. All I know is, I’ve never felt such vibrant happiness as when I looked into the eyes of my friends and felt true love.

"You change all the lead
sleepin' in my head to gold
as the day grows dim
I hear you sing a golden hymn
the song I've been trying to say."
[Arcade Fire]

On my to-do list for this week:

Write letters
Get blank discs and BURN SOME TUNES
Go to Political Awareness Club
Finish Diary by Chuck Pahlaniuk
Turn 17!

Have a good one.

2005-09-10T10:59:00.000-07:00

One nice thing about Blogger, I've discovered, is that there's not quite the same social pressure to update as Xanga. I don't know why this is but it's definitely the truth. And the comments? Here, they're few, but golden -- for the most part. Keep them coming, far-away friends.

Ohhhh it's 11:11 am by my clock. Damn it. As some of you may know, it hasn't been the good luck charm that it's supposed to be. And for anyone I haven't warned, 3:33 is my least lucky time EVER. It's beyond superstition at this point. Terrible, miserable things have happened at 3:33 and if I glance at the clock once in a bad day, it's bound to be that time. No joke. Just a word of warning, haha.

Second week of school ... wow, just two weeks? I feel like it should be about a month now, at least. The weekends are kind of my recovery time -- for people I want to be with, things I want to do, things I try to feel. It's a lot harder during the school week to control all this, and for me, honestly, it's been an inevitable cycle of finding myself sad. I broke down a little Tuesday night because I realized I couldn't even do anything to change the way I was feeling, and nothing anyone could've said would've changed it either, but at the same time I didn't want to feel completely alone. Late at night I ended up on the phone with Sam, crying, just kind of lost, I guess -- and it's hard putting your friends in the position when they're unhappy with how they see you're feeling, but finding there isn't much they can do about it. I've been there, it's fucking maddening. And then I'll get frustrated because I wish I could be healed by the love of my friends, because honestly? As much as I bitch and kid about not having any, they are there, there are tons of people who care about me, but sometimes I just can't feel anything back.

Eventually, I had to hang up the phone -- it was past midnight and I had a cross country race the next day in Canby. I fell asleep listening to the song "Fix You" by Coldplay. The lyrics of which I doodled during periods 1-4 on Thursday. And when Sam gave me a note at lunch, the same lyrics stuck in my head were drawn across the top:

Tears stream down your face
When you lose something you can't REPLACE

It was probably the nicest letter I've ever been written.

So yes. This is pretty blatant honesty, not encoded, as maybe it should be in a blog like this, but I'm sad. However. For all the strength I feel drained of, for the lack of motivation in running and so much else, for the great distance of the time that I can find something to look forward to -- I have love. If nothing else, I have love. I could hold on forever, and maybe it'd be the only thing that kept me alive. But I'd be alive, wouldn't I?

Love.

"You cannot give somebody joy, but you can find it by trying
You can't save someone from death, but you can love them while they're dying."
[Gratitude]

2005-09-04T23:08:00.000-07:00

Hello, today was fine. During the school year Sundays are kind of a waste, and just the time you spend doing homework, chores, whatever you didn't get done earlier in the week. Although this is a three-day weekend, so that theory is a little out of wack, but you get it.

This is Lauren and her friend Mark

This is a personal interpretation of college I sent her

Bwa ha ha. Ohh college.

I've started writing what I call a novel, five pages long so far but you've gotta start somewhere. I guess the thing is, sometimes when I'm writing in my diary or writing letters or something I start feeling repetitive and melodramatic. And my 'novel' is a firsthand account of a fictional character who just happens to be going through everything I am, and none of it can be stupid or a lie because it's not me, it's this character. And when I'm writing like this I can give myself a voice of how I want to sound. Which just happens to be very much like Brian from Joe Meno's Hairstyles of the Damned because I just finished reading that a second time because it's just that good:

"He was a kid, you know; he could have been me, four years before, fucking ignorant and dumb, scared of not being cool, scared of not fitting in. He really could have been me. That was what I started thinking. And I didn't like the idea of being made fun of by someone I used to be, some kid who was scared and who wanted to be something, anything but himself."

Also this weekend I spent Friday and Saturday night watching two sequential Richard Linklater films: Before Sunrise and Before Sunset, with Ethan Hawke and Judy Delpy. Basically there's an American guy and a French girl riding a train to their respective destinations in Europe, and they get involved in conversation, and connect -- from that point on out, the whole movie is basically one conversation. The second movie too, actually, with a substantial break in between, but still. It's totally romantic; however, it's not bullshit. And it's just beautiful. The connection the two make, the insights they point out and the details they appreciate, these are just two perfect movies in my opinion. Please, please watch them. One particular moment of conversation in Before Sunset was so intense and moving and real that it just made me want to get up and not waste another second doing anything meaningless; I just wanted to do everything and affect people and change the world.

... and here I am, blogging away online, but maybe I could at least inspire you to rent the movies? Here's probably my favorite quote of both movies, probably because of its current relevance: "You can never replace anyone, because everyone is made up of such beautiful and specific details." Ahhh. I think a couple girls from school are coming over tomorrow and re-watching them with me, so I'm looking forward to that.

I'm also looking forward to going to sleep and nuzzling up in my new down comforter. It makes me want to hibernate until December. Mmmm so comfortable.

"But me, I'm not a gamble.
You can count on me to split
The love I sell you in the evening
by the morning, won't exist."
[Lua, Bright Eyes]

2005-09-02T19:51:00.000-07:00

So. It's a Friday night and I'm home, re-grounded. Rough week? You could say that. Especially considering the fact that I just wrote a short conversation with myself. Hmm.

The thing about school is, I don't mind the education. With the exception of the already heavy homework load, the concept of going to classes and electives to obtain skills and knowledge is alright, you know? Sure, there are other things I'd rather do, but learning can be fun. However, that's not really what school is about anymore; at least, that's how it feels like at Jesuit. It's about who you're sitting next to and whether you're better than them or not and whether you're dressed well enough and OMG-you've-got-to-be-kidding-me-she-went-down-on-WHO??? And I'd rather just avoid all of that. This made clear, my classes are alright -- I'm still feeling out a few teachers but I like my religion teacher and my history teacher a lot, so I'm looking forward to getting to know them better. My trig teacher is Vietnamese and speaks rapidly with a heavy accent so I'm honestly counting on his online lecture notes to get through the year surviving math. I don't like my Spanish teacher either because he is extremely OCD and also somewhat hard to tolerate based on the fact that he talks to his students as if we were fifth graders. Whatever.

And school-school, the social aspect? I can't say I'm digging it. It's not like I feel rejected by any people or group but I never really feel like I'm a part of anything, either. I've got a very few but very awesome close friends, then the people who get offended when I say I don't have that many friends(because there's a difference between people you talk to at school and people you actually spend time with), then the people I pretty much despise for one reason or another, then the many faces and bodies that don't really mean much to me. Let me stop here and say that it's as obvious to me as it is to everyone else that my attitude isn't really a big help to how I've been feeling. It's just harder to motivate myself to be happier, and so easy to just let myself be sad. You know? Because I know I'm not the only one. But it's just not as easy to connect with people when the people I've connected with the best are gone and no one is really at all like them. In my eyes, at least.

Speaking of that, Tai left Thursday morning. I was already grounded but as I'd previously told my dad, after Tai leaves there's really nothing he can take away from me that I would miss -- considering the three people I hang out with most often I'll rarely see during cross country season, anyways. So I got a ride from a couple other graduates, Margaret & Megan, and we went to Red Robin with Tai. The girls had to leave, and after they did Tai and I took the MAX and headed over to Sam's house for dinner. I felt awkward, for some reason, which was weird because I feel totally welcome and embraced by Sam's family, but the conversation got so strained/strange(?) that I went so far as to compliment Mr. & Mrs. White on their light fixtures. What can I say, I'm a charmer.

And then. Tai, Sam, and I went and laid out in the hammock together. Fingers interlocked and legs tangled up and laughter mixing with whispers and tears. And as we sat there holding each other I couldn't decide whether I was trying to hold on to my youth or run far away from this heartwrenching in-between stage and let it all go. And this is maybe the first time that I've felt --- or at least that I've admitted I've felt -- that I want to move on. I want to be ready to go. I felt like we three were a picture of the Iron & Wine album Our Endless Numbered Days. It was just one of those totally beautiful and bittersweet teenage moments, though, you know?

Then came the goodbyes. Which I won't dwell on for long. Taimi drove me home and we stood out in the driveway for a bit, working up to the summer's end. We hugged goodbye and maybe cried and that was it. ...and I was trekking up the hill to my front door where my dad's figure stood with crossed arms, and all he said was, "we'll talk about your consequences tomorrow". So thanks, Dad. Of all the things you could have chosen to say, I hope you're glad with what you settled on. Because it sure as hell inspired me to hope for the future. But in case anyone wants to know, I'm grounded again, through my pre-birthday weekend. Pretty lame but it's not like I had any big plans anyways, right?

And yeah. Today was the Green & Gold Cross Country time trial -- basically an unofficial race -- and I sucked it up. This is getting pretty long so I won't write too much about that but basically I ran worse than I did last year and my run today decreased my chances of lettering this year by about a million. It's not like running has ever been my number one priority, but I do care, and it's just another discouragement. Whatever, I don't think I could live myself with I quit, so of course I'll keep trying.

Stay with me?

"And if it's over, just remember what I told you
It was bound to happen, so just keep moving on
There are no perfect endings."
[The Perfect Ending, Straylight Run]

2005-08-29T14:34:00.000-07:00

This morning I woke up cold, rain pounding on the roof, to find a note from my dad:

Allison --

if you're running with the team today, you'll probably need to

get a ride to Washington Park, although if you get desperate,

cell me. I think I can do the pickup, however.

This would be a good day to work on the paper that's due tomorrow.

Love

The Seasonal-Affected-Disorder-inducing weather, combined with my least favorite hills, and the cheery note of encouragement about my paper adds up to a very clear sum: instead of scrambling around to find a ride to cross country practice, I'd take a daytime D'Lish bath with candles and Nico to ponder over the fact that tonight is a school night. As of today I've been listening to this song non-stop; it's called "Fairest of the Seasons":

"Now that it's light, now that the candle's falling smaller in my mind
Now that it's here, now that I'm almost not so very far behind
I want to know, do I stay or do I go, and maybe follow another sign
and do I really have a song that I can ride on?"

I'll admit, I'm feeling a sense of desperation about the beginning of this school year. I'm an upperclassman -- what? Ever since 8th grade I've been relatively young, enjoying the excitement and wisdom my older friends offered. My closest friends are two years older than me; it's insane to think that I could become close with kids who are just now coming into high school. I hope it doesn't sound egotistical to say that I think I'd be a good older friend to have, having gotten so much from my older friends and realizing that value ... and bringing my own experiences to share.

Having quit MySpace cold turkey, I don't want to fall out of touch with the people who really matter, so I'm reverting to my middle school hobby of e-mail. And now I'm slightly obsessed. I started e-mailing with Alex Ward and now it's with Sam, Jimmy, Kelsey, Kathryn... join the masses: drop me a line at moomoo915@hotmail.com (yes, my middle school e-mail address) and I promise to write back. It sounds dumb but it's nice to just catch up and trade little stories and frusterations back and forth.

But yeah. I've got to finish reading the Glass Menagerie and writing the paper accompanying it... it's a late start day tomorrow, which is a compassionate gesture on the part of the Jesuit administration, I suppose. Hope, pray, wish on 11:11 (or maybe some other time, seeing the lack of luck I've had with it)... and believe it or not I'll probably be thinking of you, too.

"Take every chance you dare
I'll still be there, when you come back down."
[Nickel Creek]

2005-08-28T16:45:00.000-07:00

Hello friends. It's nice to see that I've already got a couple people reading this. I didn't crossover from xanga because I didn't want people to read what I write, this place just seems like it's less Myspace-y, less trying to look scene, more real writing and catching up on someone's life. More introspective... more self-centered, perhaps -- whatever. It's hard to avoid a blog being self-centered anyway; isn't that almost the point?

Anyway, I'm grounded this week. It's kind of dumb; I was supposed to be going from my friend Sam Ward's barbeque to pick up Tai for a sleepover, but I deviated from 'the plan' by dropping by Miko's to say goodbye which my dad looked at as dishonest, or something. And beyond that, one of the three people in high school who I hang out with(haha), Sam, had just gotten back into town from Europe and we all wanted to hang out but my dad insisted I come back home and basically I refused and a group of us just hung out at Starbucks and talked. And then, you know, hit up like three frat parties and did drugs and stuff, but that shouldn't have been a big deal. No, but it was stupid; I was with safe kids in a relatively safe place and I was home by 11:30. It's frusterating when you're basically a good kid but your parents still don't trust you or give you that much freedom. I'm sure some of you have experienced this to much greater extremes.

My friends are cute, huh?

So, at the moment I'm working on putting all my music on my iTunes, taking a break from cleaning my room and reading The Glass Menagerie for school on Tuesday... not to mention writing a three page reflection on it afterwards. Sounds lame I guess but at least I'm not on Myspace or drugs, right? And good thing I'm not flipping out about the paper, right; I mean, we've still got a solid two days left of summer, right?

... right. It's also a good thing that I'm not sarcastic, at all.

Today after dropping Tai at home I was sleeping in and intermingled with a strange dream I was having, I heard a wonderfully familiar, singsong-y voice beckon: "it's Lauren, you bitch, pick up your phone! Lauren! I wanna talk to her so bad, so PICK UP YOUR PHONE! I'm leaving, you're going to miss me so much; you love me!" And in spite of the slight rudeness of the beckoning I embraced it. I've always said I hated talking on the phone and that I lack the skill which every other Jesuit girl seems to have programmed into them, but I don't even care when it's hearing from someone who's away. Okay, certain people, maybe, make the difference, but it's just a good feeling to know you haven't been forgotten. Oh love.

"In a bulletproof vest with the windows all closed
I'll be doin' my best, I'll see you soon."
[Coldplay]

2005-08-27T14:04:00.001-07:00

Yesterday I parallel parked for the very first time. As you can see from this low-quality camera phone picture, it wasn't exactly a tight fit, but being the expert driver I am(ha), I still had plenty of trouble with it. I would've rather parked blocks away but my dear friend Taimi insisted that I learn to parallel park right NOW. I was somewhat dissentful. Also, I don't see myself applying my newfound makeshift skill in the future. Mainly because I don't think I could do it again without taking a good 10 or 15 minutes and having someone with me. So oh well.

Speaking of Tai, well, I love her. We met late last school year, bonding through our similar experiences of having moved out of our mothers' homes. And this summer we've grown to be close friends ... unfortunately, she's leaving Thursday until Christmastime and I've got another solid two years of high school. My other close friend, Lauren, left early Wednesday morning ... and it was so hard to say goodbye. So very bittersweet. I met Lauren the summer before 8th grade and have always looked up to her, but only in the past year or so have we become real friends. And I've loved it, and I love her. And honestly, it has been rough just these past few days, knowing it'll be months till I'll see her again, but at least I can take comfort in the fact that any pain I feel comes only from loving deeply. So it still sucks, and how dramatic to say this, but I'd sacrifice happiness for love any day. I know that I'll have this great love as long as I hold on to it -- and I know that with this, I'll never be empty.

So I'm afraid of this year, to be honest. I mean, I'll embrace the best of it, I'll tackle it with vivacity ... I know I'll be okay. I can't believe I have another whole summer of this, though, amazing times, bittersweet goodbyes, and being left behind. On one hand I'm afraid of letting myself go in some ways, this year, but when I think about it, I want Lauren & Tai to come home and be proud of the way I've changed. I know I'll feel weak, but cliche as it sounds, I just want to be true to myself. Before she left, Lauren wrote me a card and said the simplest thing, but it made so much sense: "if you're not proud of yourself, I probably won't be either." And it just helped sharpen my perspective so much ... I just want to be the best person I can be, for the people I love, and for myself.

Seeing my friends getting ready to head off to 'real life' has really made me excited about college for the first time. I want to get out of state, get out of the Jesuit kids social circle after high school, experience as many new things as possible. I want to see so much and meet interesting people and love throughout it all. Although I fear this year, I also have an inner strength, in that, for the first time, really ... well I may not know exactly who I am or what I'm going to do, but I know who I want to be. And where I want to go. And I think just knowing this and wanting this will take me as far as I will go.

"Maybe, as sure as tomorrow will come."
[Iron & Wine]

2005-08-26T15:05:00.000-07:00

Hello there.

As it often is with me, I feel awkward. Although I am somewhat of a veteran of online blogs, this is a new place for me and I have yet to find my voice. It's exciting, too, though, to see "ohhh you can blog from your CELL PHONE" and all these cool feautures, all new to me. Hopefully this will work out as a good place to write.

Starting this coming Tuesday, I'm going to be a junior in high school. At Jesuit. Which is, as my friends most likely know, an unusual school in that it is terribly affluent ... terribly being the operative word, unfortunately. There's a high level of competition in academics, sports, the social ladder, and dear old Jesuit has been known to swallow many teenagers, desperately trying to find their place and learning how to cope with the fact that here, this person as an individual will never be the best at anything. But we as a school will be good at everything.

I write this with the intention of sounding tongue-in-cheek, just to clarify. There is a lot of anomosity towards Jesuit, and completely understandably. If it's not obvious, I, too, have a lot of anomosity towards my high school. Registration was today: the long process of ardous lines and heavy books and school ID photos. Bound to be hellish, but I think it's safe to say that my less-than-positive attitude towards the whole ordeal made it that much more enjoyable. Anyways, we start Tuesday, as I said. One of my closest friends leaves for Northeastern University in Boston the day after. It should be a lot of exciting emotions and sources of anxiety for one week!

But I'm through being sarcastic and bitter. For now.

"Here comes the rain again, falling from the stars.
Drenched in my pain again, becoming who we are.
As my memory rests, but never forgets what I lost
Wake me up when September ends."
[Green Day]