I'm tired of falling in love.
I'm tired of just getting pain.
I'm tired of looking for joy.
I'm tired of feeling so insane.
Tired of trying so hard,
Of never being good enough.
Tired of faking a smile,
Of pretending like I'm tough.
I'm tired of comparing myself.
I'm tired of begging for respect.
I'm tired of wanting to fit in.
I'm tired of always being the reject.
Tired of waiting for Prince Charming,
Of wishing on shooting stars.
Tired of praying to be wanted,
Of having to hide my scars.
I'm tired of fighting to breathe.
I'm tired of trying to be the best.
I'm tired of just being me.
I'm tired so please let me rest.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Monday, December 28, 2009
Grace
This is my baby, Grace. I got her from the animal shelter on my road back in October. Now I don't believe in 'love at first sight' as it pertains to people but my little Grace Face, from the moment I looked into those baby blue eyes, I was hers. And I still am. She's not my cat. I'm her human.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Fool me once...
Last night, I called my dad to see if he wanted to do something because, wow, today is Christmas Eve. We haven't seen each other in a month or two and against my common sense, I miss him a little. It took me ten minutes to dial his number. I hung up three times before I actually let it connect. So finally his voice echoed through my cellular device and my breathe caught. Now I'm an excellent speaker. I compete in public speaking competitions and I've won numerous awards for them but asking my dad to be with me on Christmas Eve made me hesitate, it made me stutter. And then, my amazing, wonderful dad said he would "have to think about it".
Ouch, Dad.
So forgive me if I'm not in the holiday mood. Forgive me if visions of sugar plums don't dance in my head. I miss when I was little and Christmas meant something. Even after my parents separated, it was still amazing.
Christmas Eve was spent with my dad and his family. At some point during the night one of my brothers sneak off outside. Usually it was my redheaded oldest brother. And he would run around outside the living room window with a flashlight cupped to his nose. The red glow always made me gasp. I would sit on the couch with my face pressed hard against the cold glass and just stare in awe at my own Rudolph. When he finally "flew" out of sight, I turn back around on the stiff couch and everyone would giggle from my own red nose. We'd have a huge dinner and I'd always set the table. I got to use my own silverware that my grandma has been giving me since kindergarten. They have sea shells on the handle and I would get to choose who got to use them 'cause they were the "most specialest". I would sit next to my dad or my grandma or sometimes even I got to sit next to my uncle who was my favorite. He lives in Washington so he only flies in once a year, if that. And after consuming copious amounts of food, we'd head back into the living room to open presents. Those years, my grandma would always take me shopping. I'd get a hundred dollars to spend so everyone always got their own special something from me. My brothers didn't get that. I did. I was special then because I was the first girl in several generations. Back when I was little, I was the princess.
And waking up Christmas morning? There's never been a feeling like that. I was first up. Half the time I'm not even sure I actually slept. Rather I believe it was a dream like state passing the hours, minutes, seconds till I was allowed to get out of bed. 5AM. I'd go and prod my mother. She'd yell for me to go back to bed but...I'd sneak into the living room. Surrounding our mix matched tree were three huge piles. Each had a different wrapping paper and on of each was an individual stocking. The three of us had Harry Potter stockings. My oldest brother was Ron (red hair), my second brother was Harry (dark brown hair), and the third was Hermione, me. I'd spend the next long while picking up each present oh so carefully and trying to figure out what was hidden under the snowmen. My dad would come to our house around 8AM so that was more of the time we actually opened the presents.
Later, sometime in the afternoon, we would go to my mom's family's Christmas. My cousins and I would play tag outside while the men inside watched football and the women folk gathered in the kitchen like a picture of true holiday cheer. It was good. We would all cram into the dining room that's only used for Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. Elbows smushed elbows and you never could tell who you were playing footsie with under the table. It was love. So we would eat, eat, and eat. Everyone had seconds, most had thirds. My second brother is more of the shy nature so he'd sneak off into the back room where my Nana kept the desserts and he'd dive right into the cherry yum-yum. We all knew that's where he was. It was tradition. Afterwards the children would all grab their parents arms and try to drag them into the huge atrium where we'd open presents. The three girls, myself included, would sit on the big, squishy white couch and have ours handed to us. It was happy.
That used to be Christmas for me. Now, I'm not sure what it is. I've spent my Christmas Eve writing this, watching a variety of movies with my fever ridden little sister, napping with my old boyfriend, and driving the frost bitten asphalt doing errands for my mom. Tomorrow, we'll open presents here at my mom's boyfriend's home and at some point, we will probably meander down to my Nana's to make an appearance, eat, collect presents, etc. But I'll hug all my family members after they disguise their hatred filled glares. I'll smile at them though theirs will only be reflexes. And I'll laugh, not because of the awkwardness that will surround us but of the memory of when I was a princess, instead of the reality where I'm a disappointment.
So, forgive me my lack of cheer but your holiday season is just another one of my seasons.
Ouch, Dad.
So forgive me if I'm not in the holiday mood. Forgive me if visions of sugar plums don't dance in my head. I miss when I was little and Christmas meant something. Even after my parents separated, it was still amazing.
Christmas Eve was spent with my dad and his family. At some point during the night one of my brothers sneak off outside. Usually it was my redheaded oldest brother. And he would run around outside the living room window with a flashlight cupped to his nose. The red glow always made me gasp. I would sit on the couch with my face pressed hard against the cold glass and just stare in awe at my own Rudolph. When he finally "flew" out of sight, I turn back around on the stiff couch and everyone would giggle from my own red nose. We'd have a huge dinner and I'd always set the table. I got to use my own silverware that my grandma has been giving me since kindergarten. They have sea shells on the handle and I would get to choose who got to use them 'cause they were the "most specialest". I would sit next to my dad or my grandma or sometimes even I got to sit next to my uncle who was my favorite. He lives in Washington so he only flies in once a year, if that. And after consuming copious amounts of food, we'd head back into the living room to open presents. Those years, my grandma would always take me shopping. I'd get a hundred dollars to spend so everyone always got their own special something from me. My brothers didn't get that. I did. I was special then because I was the first girl in several generations. Back when I was little, I was the princess.
And waking up Christmas morning? There's never been a feeling like that. I was first up. Half the time I'm not even sure I actually slept. Rather I believe it was a dream like state passing the hours, minutes, seconds till I was allowed to get out of bed. 5AM. I'd go and prod my mother. She'd yell for me to go back to bed but...I'd sneak into the living room. Surrounding our mix matched tree were three huge piles. Each had a different wrapping paper and on of each was an individual stocking. The three of us had Harry Potter stockings. My oldest brother was Ron (red hair), my second brother was Harry (dark brown hair), and the third was Hermione, me. I'd spend the next long while picking up each present oh so carefully and trying to figure out what was hidden under the snowmen. My dad would come to our house around 8AM so that was more of the time we actually opened the presents.
Later, sometime in the afternoon, we would go to my mom's family's Christmas. My cousins and I would play tag outside while the men inside watched football and the women folk gathered in the kitchen like a picture of true holiday cheer. It was good. We would all cram into the dining room that's only used for Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. Elbows smushed elbows and you never could tell who you were playing footsie with under the table. It was love. So we would eat, eat, and eat. Everyone had seconds, most had thirds. My second brother is more of the shy nature so he'd sneak off into the back room where my Nana kept the desserts and he'd dive right into the cherry yum-yum. We all knew that's where he was. It was tradition. Afterwards the children would all grab their parents arms and try to drag them into the huge atrium where we'd open presents. The three girls, myself included, would sit on the big, squishy white couch and have ours handed to us. It was happy.
That used to be Christmas for me. Now, I'm not sure what it is. I've spent my Christmas Eve writing this, watching a variety of movies with my fever ridden little sister, napping with my old boyfriend, and driving the frost bitten asphalt doing errands for my mom. Tomorrow, we'll open presents here at my mom's boyfriend's home and at some point, we will probably meander down to my Nana's to make an appearance, eat, collect presents, etc. But I'll hug all my family members after they disguise their hatred filled glares. I'll smile at them though theirs will only be reflexes. And I'll laugh, not because of the awkwardness that will surround us but of the memory of when I was a princess, instead of the reality where I'm a disappointment.
So, forgive me my lack of cheer but your holiday season is just another one of my seasons.
Day 1
Dear Diary,
I woke up today
But the sadness hasn't gone away
So somehow I got out of bed
Brushed my teeth and pulled clothes over my head
Stepped out into the crisp air
I forgot my shoes but I didn't really care
And the cold snow bit at my toes
Haha you know how that goes
I started walking down the street
Yeah yeah with my bare feet
Mainly just 'cause I felt like I can
Made it about three miles before I ran
And I ran to feel the wind on my face
And I ran to get away from that place
And I ran to forget about the past
And I ran, Diary, I ran so fast
Till I hit the ground and had to crawl
But it made no difference at all
I guess the sadness is my new best friend
Blame it all on me and for how I've sinned
My hands and knees were frostbitten
But somehow I managed to get up once again
And made it back to the other side of my door
Diary I don't think I can do this anymore
Day after day it's too much to take
Please tomorrow, don't let me wake.
I woke up today
But the sadness hasn't gone away
So somehow I got out of bed
Brushed my teeth and pulled clothes over my head
Stepped out into the crisp air
I forgot my shoes but I didn't really care
And the cold snow bit at my toes
Haha you know how that goes
I started walking down the street
Yeah yeah with my bare feet
Mainly just 'cause I felt like I can
Made it about three miles before I ran
And I ran to feel the wind on my face
And I ran to get away from that place
And I ran to forget about the past
And I ran, Diary, I ran so fast
Till I hit the ground and had to crawl
But it made no difference at all
I guess the sadness is my new best friend
Blame it all on me and for how I've sinned
My hands and knees were frostbitten
But somehow I managed to get up once again
And made it back to the other side of my door
Diary I don't think I can do this anymore
Day after day it's too much to take
Please tomorrow, don't let me wake.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Melt
We meet, we touch, we kiss, I melt.
Looking down at you now is hard,
Remembering all those things I felt.
Reject me? Okay. Just don't perfect me.
Soooo I got dumped last night. 'Tis okay in a way I guess. Better now than later but that doesn't mean it hurts any less. That's something which will probably always hurt, being rejected.
And I'll be honest 'cause I know I'm not perfect. I have my ups and I have my downs but overall, I'd like to think I'm kind of awesome. I'm one of the smartest kids in my class, smart enough to get accepted into this early college program so I'm getting a two year associate's degree while graduating high school. My PSAT and SOL scores are always through the rough, not to mention I've had over 43 colleges and universities send more than one mailing. And I'm passionate about what I believe in. Really I don't think I've ever backed down from a political debate and I don't think I've ever really lost one either because sure, sometimes I don't know EXACTLY what I'm saying but I pull it off 'cause I'm dedicated to my cause. With regards to my physical appearance, I've been called cute, adorable, pretty, gorgeous, beautiful, ravishing, sexy, hot, etc. So I guess I'm not ugly. No, no I know I'm not ugly. Guys are attracted to me with regards to my looks. And they say I'm nice. Everyone says that I'm nice and kind. They may say a lot of things about me but nobody would ever say I'm cruel or sadistic or evil. No matter how much I dislike a person or their beliefs, if they need anything, I offer it. I can't stand someone in pain or hurt.
I'm sort of rambling now. My main point was I'm good enough, right? I'd like to think so. But sometimes people seem to be against me. My mama says it's 'cause they're just all jealous or threatened. She's supposed to say that though. Actually, yesterday she called me a trophy girlfriend. "Not that they don't like you but the guys you date never are up to your level and they know that so they like the fact you're slumming with them." I wasn't sure if it was a compliment. I don't feel like a trophy girlfriend. Ha. I'd have to be someone's girlfriend first. Maybe I'm a little bitter right now. I thought things were fine, I thought they were good. Then BAM. Nope. Need to know each other better.
What's to know that he won't judge? My biggest phobia is people touching my feet but I'm learning to deal with that. I had a huge crush on my middle school gym teacher. Sometimes I bite my nails even though I'm trying to quit. My ring size is around a 5, quite small actually. I like the color blue and I prefer the night. Winter is my favorite season but I don't like when it starts warming up and the snow melts 'cause then the ground gets all wet, icky. When I eat oranges, I nibble the skin off first and then eat the pulp. I have a thing for musical artists like the Backstreet Boys and Katy Perry and Lady GaGa and Metro Station. Under my desk in my bedroom, I have a cardboard box that I've covered in duct tape and inside is a little memento from everything important in my life. I don't always understand things in history or science but they really interest me.
Do those help you know me better? I don't think so. Those are superficial. I could tell you how last January the woman I loved as a second mom blew her brains out. I could tell you how my ex-boyfriend held me down and touched me until I managed to run away. I could tell you how I've seen my drunk dad throw knives at the wall that I was two feet away from. I could tell you how I shook and sobbed when my mom went in for a surgery that didn't really have a survival rate. I could tell you how it feels to have over 200 hundred pills pumped from your stomach with over twenty strangers watching you. Maybe those will help you know me better. Maybe. Or maybe those will make you look at me like a freak, make you look at me with pity, make you judge me for my past. And if that's what happens, I don't want you to know me.
And I'll be honest 'cause I know I'm not perfect. I have my ups and I have my downs but overall, I'd like to think I'm kind of awesome. I'm one of the smartest kids in my class, smart enough to get accepted into this early college program so I'm getting a two year associate's degree while graduating high school. My PSAT and SOL scores are always through the rough, not to mention I've had over 43 colleges and universities send more than one mailing. And I'm passionate about what I believe in. Really I don't think I've ever backed down from a political debate and I don't think I've ever really lost one either because sure, sometimes I don't know EXACTLY what I'm saying but I pull it off 'cause I'm dedicated to my cause. With regards to my physical appearance, I've been called cute, adorable, pretty, gorgeous, beautiful, ravishing, sexy, hot, etc. So I guess I'm not ugly. No, no I know I'm not ugly. Guys are attracted to me with regards to my looks. And they say I'm nice. Everyone says that I'm nice and kind. They may say a lot of things about me but nobody would ever say I'm cruel or sadistic or evil. No matter how much I dislike a person or their beliefs, if they need anything, I offer it. I can't stand someone in pain or hurt.
I'm sort of rambling now. My main point was I'm good enough, right? I'd like to think so. But sometimes people seem to be against me. My mama says it's 'cause they're just all jealous or threatened. She's supposed to say that though. Actually, yesterday she called me a trophy girlfriend. "Not that they don't like you but the guys you date never are up to your level and they know that so they like the fact you're slumming with them." I wasn't sure if it was a compliment. I don't feel like a trophy girlfriend. Ha. I'd have to be someone's girlfriend first. Maybe I'm a little bitter right now. I thought things were fine, I thought they were good. Then BAM. Nope. Need to know each other better.
What's to know that he won't judge? My biggest phobia is people touching my feet but I'm learning to deal with that. I had a huge crush on my middle school gym teacher. Sometimes I bite my nails even though I'm trying to quit. My ring size is around a 5, quite small actually. I like the color blue and I prefer the night. Winter is my favorite season but I don't like when it starts warming up and the snow melts 'cause then the ground gets all wet, icky. When I eat oranges, I nibble the skin off first and then eat the pulp. I have a thing for musical artists like the Backstreet Boys and Katy Perry and Lady GaGa and Metro Station. Under my desk in my bedroom, I have a cardboard box that I've covered in duct tape and inside is a little memento from everything important in my life. I don't always understand things in history or science but they really interest me.
Do those help you know me better? I don't think so. Those are superficial. I could tell you how last January the woman I loved as a second mom blew her brains out. I could tell you how my ex-boyfriend held me down and touched me until I managed to run away. I could tell you how I've seen my drunk dad throw knives at the wall that I was two feet away from. I could tell you how I shook and sobbed when my mom went in for a surgery that didn't really have a survival rate. I could tell you how it feels to have over 200 hundred pills pumped from your stomach with over twenty strangers watching you. Maybe those will help you know me better. Maybe. Or maybe those will make you look at me like a freak, make you look at me with pity, make you judge me for my past. And if that's what happens, I don't want you to know me.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Mm really now?
Oops, I did it again....
Yes, I watched the sequel to Twilight. Well actually it's the second of the Twilight series, New Moon. I promised myself I wouldn't. I swore that I would not fall victim to it but alas, I see now that I don't think I'll ever be able to resist it. And I don't mean the books or the movies. No, I believe I'll never be able to resist the torture of idea that there is real love, true love, the kind of love that grasps your body in its hands and tightens and constricts around you until your bones begin to snap and push their way through your taut skin but you feel nothing because you're staring into that one person's eyes. The thought of that type of adoration pulls at me and tugs. Does it, could it ever exist?
You see there's Bella. She's supposed to be your typical every day girl. Divorced parents, Daddy issues, trouble fitting in, blah, blah, blah. Three years ago, when my hazel (let's call them green) eyes first fell upon Bella Swan, I saw myself in this naive, young girl and couldn't tear my gaze from the pages where I met her. She was beautiful because she was how I saw myself then. For granted, she was a lot prettier to me before they cast this little chick-a-dee as her in the movie but still, her purpose was fulfilled. She was the relatable teenage girl of modern society. Then came Prince Charming. He's known as Edward Cullen. Hello, stage one of tormenting us teenage girls because he is supposed to be the most beautiful thing since I was born (ahahaha). Not too tall, luscious brown hair, deep chocolate eyes, the body of a 11-year-old. First portrayed as the bad boy of her new high school, we then see he has a deep, sensitive side that only she brings out in him. Now I'm in eighth grade reading this story and my mind immediately thinks of Justin, the bad boy in my World History class. Could he be tormented on the outside but really just looking for that one girl to show him how to love? Could I be that girl? No and no because that's dumb. I'm pretty sure he's in a detention center right now. My point is there about a 1 in 3928947284728645726 chance of the bad boy secretly writing poetry and singing lullabies to a baby kitten he rescued while helping an old lady cross the street to get his Boy Scout patch. But it's a good dream. That's why we (typical teenage girls) love us some Edward. And he notices the boring Bella. Sure he fights it but he can't resist. They rush head first into this love-capade (made up word) and it ends up being all Romeo-Juliet-esque (another made up word). Then...INSERT JAWS THEME....he's a vampire. Shocker, right? This is what is supposed to keep us (dumb teenage girls) from not falling in love with a fictional character because he's exactly that. Fictional. Doesn't help one bit. And now, now is when it gets good. We meet Jacob. Oh sweet, young Jacob. He's gorgeous in the book. To me, he was better than Edward. And he falls for Bella too. What's better is Jacob is a werewolf and thus the nemesis of the vampire! So now this average, mundane girl has two of the most amazing, epic guys completely heels over head for her. Eighth grade and I'm cursing myself for not being in this book. I'm literally angry at myself because I live in reality. Now I read the first book in two weeks. The second lasted a little over a week. The third was devoured in four days. And when I finally received the fourth book, I stayed up all night in bed with a two liter of Dr. Pepper and a thing of oreos. There's so much more to the story but the basic theme of it is that no matter how boring you are (Bella), you always have a shot at love (Edward) and should that fail, you've got a pretty sweet back up (Jacob).
Now it's really a lot more poetic than that and I quite recommend the books because I find them to be very well written as far as sappy, teenage, vampire/werewolf love stories go. But the movie is what got me. Seeing it portrayed by real people? It makes the love between Bella and Edward so much more painful to watch. I took my ex-beau, Robert, with me to see the first movie when it came out. Sure I told my friends it was irritating they ruined the book and I wasn't going to support it. But I did anyway. "Scientific research" is what I told myself. So we went. We watched it. Well I watched it. He seemed much more interested in my v-neck shirt (definitely not up to Edward or Jacob standards). Afterwards, I felt...unsatisfied. Don't get me wrong, it DID completely go against the book every way possible and destroyed the sanctity of the story. Yet that wasn't what had me so crestfallen. It was the realization that the horny boy holding my hand was never going to look at me the way the mosquito and dog looked at Bella. This is when I told myself I was NOT going to see the second movie when it finally hit mainstream.
And so there are several scenes during the movie that make me want to shove a wooden stake through my own heart (though apparently that doesn't work?) but there are two that really send a stabbing into my blood-pumping organ. One that gets me the most is Bella and Jacob in the kitchen. Edward had left her all alone to "protect" her from himself. In swoops Jacob to pick up the pieces of her broken heart but she keeps rejecting him. This really upsets me because I was always Team Jacob (don't tell) and so they're in the kitchen. Her back is against the sink, he is in front of her. Their bodies are pressed against each other. His tan, rough hand reaches up and caresses her porcelain cheek ever so softly. Their breath is quick now and there's less than a centimeter between their hungry lips. Phone rings. It's Edward. So she runs off to rescue him leaving Jacob. He tells her not to leave. He asks her to stay. He begs her to choose him. And she doesn't. But he still loves her. The second is when Edward comes back. He is in bed with Bella and she wakes up screaming from a nightmare she's had since he left. Except now he's there to comfort her. It's all sweet and stuff but I don't feel like going into details else my heart cries any more.
Now I'm watching this movie and I'm texting my boyfriend while I do so. Is it the rampant teenage hormones coursing through me or the double strawberry shortcake with whipped cream I had for dessert that is making my estrogen levels sky rocket? Neither. It's the movie. It's the idea of the movie. It's the idea of love. It's the idea that someone like me could find a love like that. It's that DAMN (pardon) idea that is making me cry as I type this because though my dreams wish it were real, though my heart yearns for it, though my body aches to have it, I will never have that type of love. I'm not saying no teenage girl with divorced parents, Daddy issues, and trouble fitting in will have that type of love (pending its existence). I'm saying that I won't. Why not? Well it's because I've spent so much of my time putting faith into everyone, everything else, I forgot to put faith in love and I forgot to put faith in me.
So I just finished the credits. And I thought about it. Maybe...maybe if I wish upon a star, I'll find a little faith left over. I really hope so.
I mean, have you seen Taylor Lautner (Jacob) without a shirt?
Yes, I watched the sequel to Twilight. Well actually it's the second of the Twilight series, New Moon. I promised myself I wouldn't. I swore that I would not fall victim to it but alas, I see now that I don't think I'll ever be able to resist it. And I don't mean the books or the movies. No, I believe I'll never be able to resist the torture of idea that there is real love, true love, the kind of love that grasps your body in its hands and tightens and constricts around you until your bones begin to snap and push their way through your taut skin but you feel nothing because you're staring into that one person's eyes. The thought of that type of adoration pulls at me and tugs. Does it, could it ever exist?
You see there's Bella. She's supposed to be your typical every day girl. Divorced parents, Daddy issues, trouble fitting in, blah, blah, blah. Three years ago, when my hazel (let's call them green) eyes first fell upon Bella Swan, I saw myself in this naive, young girl and couldn't tear my gaze from the pages where I met her. She was beautiful because she was how I saw myself then. For granted, she was a lot prettier to me before they cast this little chick-a-dee as her in the movie but still, her purpose was fulfilled. She was the relatable teenage girl of modern society. Then came Prince Charming. He's known as Edward Cullen. Hello, stage one of tormenting us teenage girls because he is supposed to be the most beautiful thing since I was born (ahahaha). Not too tall, luscious brown hair, deep chocolate eyes, the body of a 11-year-old. First portrayed as the bad boy of her new high school, we then see he has a deep, sensitive side that only she brings out in him. Now I'm in eighth grade reading this story and my mind immediately thinks of Justin, the bad boy in my World History class. Could he be tormented on the outside but really just looking for that one girl to show him how to love? Could I be that girl? No and no because that's dumb. I'm pretty sure he's in a detention center right now. My point is there about a 1 in 3928947284728645726 chance of the bad boy secretly writing poetry and singing lullabies to a baby kitten he rescued while helping an old lady cross the street to get his Boy Scout patch. But it's a good dream. That's why we (typical teenage girls) love us some Edward. And he notices the boring Bella. Sure he fights it but he can't resist. They rush head first into this love-capade (made up word) and it ends up being all Romeo-Juliet-esque (another made up word). Then...INSERT JAWS THEME....he's a vampire. Shocker, right? This is what is supposed to keep us (dumb teenage girls) from not falling in love with a fictional character because he's exactly that. Fictional. Doesn't help one bit. And now, now is when it gets good. We meet Jacob. Oh sweet, young Jacob. He's gorgeous in the book. To me, he was better than Edward. And he falls for Bella too. What's better is Jacob is a werewolf and thus the nemesis of the vampire! So now this average, mundane girl has two of the most amazing, epic guys completely heels over head for her. Eighth grade and I'm cursing myself for not being in this book. I'm literally angry at myself because I live in reality. Now I read the first book in two weeks. The second lasted a little over a week. The third was devoured in four days. And when I finally received the fourth book, I stayed up all night in bed with a two liter of Dr. Pepper and a thing of oreos. There's so much more to the story but the basic theme of it is that no matter how boring you are (Bella), you always have a shot at love (Edward) and should that fail, you've got a pretty sweet back up (Jacob).
Now it's really a lot more poetic than that and I quite recommend the books because I find them to be very well written as far as sappy, teenage, vampire/werewolf love stories go. But the movie is what got me. Seeing it portrayed by real people? It makes the love between Bella and Edward so much more painful to watch. I took my ex-beau, Robert, with me to see the first movie when it came out. Sure I told my friends it was irritating they ruined the book and I wasn't going to support it. But I did anyway. "Scientific research" is what I told myself. So we went. We watched it. Well I watched it. He seemed much more interested in my v-neck shirt (definitely not up to Edward or Jacob standards). Afterwards, I felt...unsatisfied. Don't get me wrong, it DID completely go against the book every way possible and destroyed the sanctity of the story. Yet that wasn't what had me so crestfallen. It was the realization that the horny boy holding my hand was never going to look at me the way the mosquito and dog looked at Bella. This is when I told myself I was NOT going to see the second movie when it finally hit mainstream.
And so there are several scenes during the movie that make me want to shove a wooden stake through my own heart (though apparently that doesn't work?) but there are two that really send a stabbing into my blood-pumping organ. One that gets me the most is Bella and Jacob in the kitchen. Edward had left her all alone to "protect" her from himself. In swoops Jacob to pick up the pieces of her broken heart but she keeps rejecting him. This really upsets me because I was always Team Jacob (don't tell) and so they're in the kitchen. Her back is against the sink, he is in front of her. Their bodies are pressed against each other. His tan, rough hand reaches up and caresses her porcelain cheek ever so softly. Their breath is quick now and there's less than a centimeter between their hungry lips. Phone rings. It's Edward. So she runs off to rescue him leaving Jacob. He tells her not to leave. He asks her to stay. He begs her to choose him. And she doesn't. But he still loves her. The second is when Edward comes back. He is in bed with Bella and she wakes up screaming from a nightmare she's had since he left. Except now he's there to comfort her. It's all sweet and stuff but I don't feel like going into details else my heart cries any more.
Now I'm watching this movie and I'm texting my boyfriend while I do so. Is it the rampant teenage hormones coursing through me or the double strawberry shortcake with whipped cream I had for dessert that is making my estrogen levels sky rocket? Neither. It's the movie. It's the idea of the movie. It's the idea of love. It's the idea that someone like me could find a love like that. It's that DAMN (pardon) idea that is making me cry as I type this because though my dreams wish it were real, though my heart yearns for it, though my body aches to have it, I will never have that type of love. I'm not saying no teenage girl with divorced parents, Daddy issues, and trouble fitting in will have that type of love (pending its existence). I'm saying that I won't. Why not? Well it's because I've spent so much of my time putting faith into everyone, everything else, I forgot to put faith in love and I forgot to put faith in me.
So I just finished the credits. And I thought about it. Maybe...maybe if I wish upon a star, I'll find a little faith left over. I really hope so.
I mean, have you seen Taylor Lautner (Jacob) without a shirt?
Saturday, December 19, 2009
My Angel
Tonight, I made a snow angel.
She was soft and oh so pretty.
And though the moon was hidden,
Her face was lit by lights from the city.
I felt bad to leave her out in the cold,
So I sat outside and held her hand.
I told of life and love and laughter,
We spoke longer than I planned.
Hours passed and still I spoke on.
Never did she say a single word,
But looking into her eyes,
It was clear that she had heard.
Finally before the cold did me in,
I kissed her hand and held her tight.
And a favor I did ask of my angel,
Simply that she watches over you tonight.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Beauty is shallow.
There's this girl I know. Sometimes I spend hours just watching her, just watching the way she brushes her teeth a little too quickly because she doesn't like making the effort. Just watching how she chews her nails, though this makes her a hypocrite since she lectures any else she sees partaking in such a bad habit. There are a few times when her attention escapes whoever she is with and the distance captures the outlaw. Still she seems to hear every word you say. And constantly auburn bangs are swept to the side or uneven strands are tucked behind metallic ears, especially when her pristine lips are moving. She's never scared of eye contact even if some avoids those bright irises filled with a warm hazel. Her height is a bit below average but she never seems to mind. In fact, no one does because even in the rain, I catch her slipping in a pair of black, stiletto heels. And with every step she takes, her shoulders are strong yet I'm the only one who sees the world bearing down on her. I fear she might not last much longer. No other soul notices when the corners of her smile wilts, no one notices when her gaze flicks downward. And she doesn't mind. No she doesn't care if they ever notice something is a little off or there is a slight difference on days when it's harder to breathe. She is the most gorgeous, vile creature I've ever seen for she is not perfect. She comes no where near good enough for society. And she is quite simply the epitome of flaws and disgrace but...but this young girl knows that and she adores it. She thrives on it. She lives for it. Her imperfections are exposed to the world as she bares her body, her mind, her soul for us to see. A perfect stranger can see the curves, valleys of her ivory body. Sometimes he can even caress if he is brave enough to simply reach out as he holds her gaze. But few do. So, so few will ever take the chance to view the beauty in what is damaged because we are scared of what has no fears. And she is one who will stand strong against all terro for she has been loved by the most beautiful angel. For his arms were the ones to take her in when the heavens shunned her and the mortals stoned her. She now can embrace that which frighten the strongest of men. Thus she is what we fear for she cannot be tormented anymore by what we have inflicted upon ourselves because she is what we bring upon ourselves.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Five bucks.
Wanna make a bet?
I'll forget this password and account within two weeks. I'm never very good at blogs. Not even good at journals in reality. But I can try at least. I think I have three livejournals in cyber space. It's not so much the act of writing on these but the commitment they take. That, my dear friends, is where I struggle. Commiting to something, someone, is not exactly my forte (should that be forté?) but I try. I really do. I'm a lot better than I used to be. A good example would be I just got out of a six month relationship. Not bad, huh? Half a year of my life with one person. Prior to this, my longest consisted of...two-ish months? That was an amazing record. Every other relationship was lucky if it made it to three weeks. So six months? I'm proud of that. I think that's the longest I've ever been commited to someone besides family. Not even friends last that long.
Except for my best friend. My Jason. He's been the one who's helped me work through so much. I so thank him for my new found levels of commitment, self-esteem, and happiness.
As for now, I have a new beau. Kevin. And he'll probably read this so...Hi, deer. He's kind of amazing. No...he IS amazing. I could write and write and write and probably never describe how cool and wicked he is. And yes, he is a conservative so that's going to be a bit...tricky... But I find him to be worth it. So, so worth it. Thus far. I want to do things right this time, ya know? I'm not the type of girl who really does forever but I don't wanna screw up for a few months at least. ;)
I probably should do something productive like...not this? Ha. I have eight hours until my crops are ready, two days before I have to feed my fish, and no more work that is due this week. I'm good for a while I guess. So I could just keep typing into a blog that nobody will pay any attention to. Seems like that's what I'm doing. Ah....
I wish you were here,
So I could make what I'm thinking real.
I wanna show you how I feel,
As I hold you as close to me,
As close to me as I'll let anyone be.
'Cause this time I wanna do things right,
And I wish you here so I could prove that,
With my kiss tonight.
So many miles away yet I close my eyes,
And there's your body against mine once more,
And all these feelings I wanna explore.
Your arms around tight around my waist.
Wake me up now and I'll still have your taste.
But please don't, just let me dream of you,
'Cause when you're so far,
So far away, this has to make do.
TBC? Don't know yet.
I'll forget this password and account within two weeks. I'm never very good at blogs. Not even good at journals in reality. But I can try at least. I think I have three livejournals in cyber space. It's not so much the act of writing on these but the commitment they take. That, my dear friends, is where I struggle. Commiting to something, someone, is not exactly my forte (should that be forté?) but I try. I really do. I'm a lot better than I used to be. A good example would be I just got out of a six month relationship. Not bad, huh? Half a year of my life with one person. Prior to this, my longest consisted of...two-ish months? That was an amazing record. Every other relationship was lucky if it made it to three weeks. So six months? I'm proud of that. I think that's the longest I've ever been commited to someone besides family. Not even friends last that long.
Except for my best friend. My Jason. He's been the one who's helped me work through so much. I so thank him for my new found levels of commitment, self-esteem, and happiness.
As for now, I have a new beau. Kevin. And he'll probably read this so...Hi, deer. He's kind of amazing. No...he IS amazing. I could write and write and write and probably never describe how cool and wicked he is. And yes, he is a conservative so that's going to be a bit...tricky... But I find him to be worth it. So, so worth it. Thus far. I want to do things right this time, ya know? I'm not the type of girl who really does forever but I don't wanna screw up for a few months at least. ;)
I probably should do something productive like...not this? Ha. I have eight hours until my crops are ready, two days before I have to feed my fish, and no more work that is due this week. I'm good for a while I guess. So I could just keep typing into a blog that nobody will pay any attention to. Seems like that's what I'm doing. Ah....
I wish you were here,
So I could make what I'm thinking real.
I wanna show you how I feel,
As I hold you as close to me,
As close to me as I'll let anyone be.
'Cause this time I wanna do things right,
And I wish you here so I could prove that,
With my kiss tonight.
So many miles away yet I close my eyes,
And there's your body against mine once more,
And all these feelings I wanna explore.
Your arms around tight around my waist.
Wake me up now and I'll still have your taste.
But please don't, just let me dream of you,
'Cause when you're so far,
So far away, this has to make do.
TBC? Don't know yet.
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