The Lying Lies & Dirty Secrets Of Miss Erica Court

the last decade

Thu, 31 Dec 2009 23:36:52 GMT

The beginning of the decade started off with excitement. 2000, the world was still turning, it was a new fucking century and I started learning to play guitar. My dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer that year. He went into the hospital, had his prostate removed and after "light chemo", was declared healthy as a horse and went on about his business. I was clueless. Nobody told me what was actually going on. My dad was in the hospital and I didn't know why but he was concious and I didn't see any wounds so I was happy to live in ignorance. I was only eight. I only found out years later from my mom, since my dad never talked about it, ever.

2001 started well enough, and ended in complete chaos as I'm sure you all remember.

For me, 2002 was the beginning, of my life, I guess. I changed schools, pretty suddenly and spent the better part of 5th grade trying to impress and make friends which ended up being pointless as I'm sure everyone absolutely hated my guts by the end of the year.

In 2003 I "graduated" 5th grade as Salutatorian, which in a school with only two fifth grade classes isn't that big a deal, but considering I'd only been there a year, yeah, I was no one's favorite person.
Becker Elementary was my first experience with being used by others for their own benefit and my--thankfully--only experience with being picked on and made the punchline of jokes. At my other elementary school, despite all of my teachers being friends with my mom, my mom working at the school, and being one of the smartest kids ( no, really) there, I was never treated in any way other than nicely, with respect. I was pretty much everyone's friend. My experience at Becker was so different, I could barely deal with it. I remember going home and laying in my mom's lap, crying because something private that I'd told to someone I believed to be my friend was suddenly common knowledge and I couldn't understand why anyone would do such a thing.

I started middle school terrified of going through the same thing. I still remember being ten minutes late, sitting in the car, trying not to cry and begging my mom to just take me back home.

My years at Fulmore turned out to be the best years of my life. I finally started to be myself and not give a shit if I made friends or who I pissed off or what anyone thought of me.

2004 was really the beginning of that. I was in Pep Squad (yes, I was, and I have the pictures to prove it) in 6th but stopped in 7th cuz it just wasn't my thing anymore. I made a friend that was so different yet so very like me and she became the closest thing I'd had to a best friend since I was three. She was the one person who understood and listened when I decided I wanted to be philosophical and creepy and during my attempts at learning to properly apply makeup.
This was also the year the best little beagle in the world came into my life and made everything even more interesting than the best evil cat in the world did.

2005 was...life-altering. The first time I got drunk, my very first hangover, my first rock show. My first experience with almost getting killed, the first time I felt the rush that is being squished in a crowd and screaming along and getting out everything that annoys you, angers you, pisses you off, so that you're completely exhausted but fucking elated by the end of it. The first time I cut myself, the first time I took a pill I didn't need. October of 2005 was the best of all. My first Coheed show, completely changed the way I thought of/listened to music. They instantly became one of my favorite bands and for the next few years, when shit got to be too much, Coheed shows were the only things I lived for. I realized that year that the only thing that I'd ever be truly happy with doing for the rest of my life was being on stage. Mainly singing, be it in a band, in a musical, by myself, but singing. Acting and dancing too, just to be in the spotlight. That's what I was born to do.
My dad quit smoking that October of 2005. I could not have been happier, after years of throwing away cigarettes and hiding ashtrays and after learning the cause of his stint in the hospital had been cancer.

2006 sucked. The end of 8th grade brought my first contact high, my first actual high and something of a broken heart. I realized that the only friend I had that understood that Coheed and music were two very different things, had been using me and that our "friendship" was one-sided. I started my freshman year of high school excited for choir and theatre and new, different friends. I even gave my ex-friend something of a second chance seeing as we were at the same school and still liked the same things.
That came back to bite me in the ass in a big fucking way. Then my entire fucking world stopped and it would not start up again. My grandmother died and I shut down. I stopped going to school, stopped talking to people, stopped talking, period. It was the biggest pain I have ever felt and I never want to feel anything even half of that again.

2007 was a continuation of that nightmare. A month before my quinceañera--which was hell to plan in between crying myself to sleep and screaming at my mother when she'd try to pry me away from my bed in the mornings in a vain attempt to get me to school--I was on Zoloft. A couple of months after my 15th birthday I was on anti-anxiety medication and sleep aids. That summer I started smoking. First just to see what it was like, then, like any young smoker, cuz it felt like I was the coolest fucking person in the world. Then it became something I turned to instead of cutting. It would make me just, chill, stop and think before reaching for that one razor I never threw out.
The thing was, when I started cutting, it was, in all honestly, (and really, why the fuck would I lie?) out of boredom. Slowly it became, 'I'm sad, have to cut' or 'I'm pissed, where's the razor' and smoking helped me stop that. At least until September when not a cigarette in the world could have stopped my first serious bi-polar episode. I decided I was done and took more sleeping pills than I needed, made a few cuts on the inside of my wrist and waited til I drifted off and never woke up.
I stopped myself before I got to that point. I was in the hospital from 7 to about 10 that morning, with a machine taking my blood pressure every ten minutes, a needle in my arm, orders to stay awake at all costs, and charcoal being forced down my throat (which, if you don't know, essentially pumps your stomach from the inside out).
After five days in an honest-to-god looney bin, I spent the rest of the year trying to find a balance in medications--at some point I believe I was on four different ones at the same time--and trying to stay awake during the hours my homebound teacher would come over.
The only good things about that year were my quinceañera, and meeting my fucking God. I met Claudio Sanchez after a concert in Austin in November. Still the best night of my life.

2008 was the year it started getting back to normal. I started at Garza high school, I got back into actually being a person and by the end of the year I had decreased the dose of my only medication to half of the original.
My "twin" and I "broke up". All I was ever doing was taking care of her, and despite how strong and independent I apparently seem on the outside, I needed someone to take care of me and she couldn't understand that.

It's the last day of 2009. I dropped out of high school in May. I started back, this time in homeschool, in September. I graduated this month. I gave my twin a second chance, only to have it thrown back in my face when she accused me of trying to break her and her boyfriend up. One of the biggest pains I have ever felt was knowing that she thought, after six years of friendship, after all the shit we'd seen each other through, that I'd do something like that, something so unbelievably unlike me, to her. For all the bitch that I can be--and I can be the mother of all bitches, believe you me--I would never ever do anything to hurt a friend or family member.

This year was, celebrity death. It was poor excuses for social networking. It was an immense amount of nonsense. It was crappy, but it was far from the worst. And against my better judgement, I'm excited to see what the next year, the next decade, will bring to my life.

Bring on the crazy.

Happy New Years Eve, and an early Happy New Year to everyone! Have fun and be safe.

xxxo,
Nydia A.

three years now

Sat, 28 Nov 2009 00:55:31 GMT

It does get better. You never want to believe that it will, because as much as it hurts, it's supposed to hurt. And if it doesn't, you just don't care.

You want that horrible ache in your chest to be gone. But at the same time you never want it to stop hurting.

The stangest things hit me, trigger small fits of tears.
There are still some songs I refuse to even see the names of because reading them makes that ache flare up again.

But it is better. I can talk about her without tearing up. I can walk into that room without imagining the bed where it used to be, the dresser, the nightstand with the little paper with prayers in Spanish.

I still can't look at her apartment building or stand to drive on the street she used to live on.

Maybe in another three years.

I miss you, Abuela. I hope you're happy, wherever you are.

Sometimes I write stuff. It's almost always nonsense.

Mon, 16 Nov 2009 20:18:13 GMT

I remember being 5 or 6, 7 even, going to my great aunt's 70th birthday party. Or being 5 or 6 and going to my mom's aunt and uncle's 50th anniversary party. Or being 4 or 5 and going to my mom's cousin's daughter's quinceañera. They were always in these places that were out in the middle of nowhere. They looked like crackhouses from the outside but were perfect for dancing your ass off inside. There was always a huge dance floor with tables off to either side, a kitchen that served as a bar for most of the night then a menudo bar for a couple hours after everyone was good and drunk.

I remember getting hugs and kisses from people I couldn't remember ever meeting. I remember sitting next to my mom with a cup of 7up and a side of cherries. I remember dunking a cherry in, sucking all the taste of the soda off of it, then dunking it back in to do it over again. I remember being entertained with that for a good hour.

I remember going to the bathroom that was always too small with awful florescent lighting, and seeing just how frazzled I looked after dancing for a few hours, watching my mom fix her lipstick, watching other women do the same. I remember dancing with my parents, each with one arm around me, carrying me in between them and the other holding each other's hand.

I remember the smokers going outside every hour or so, all men, and the only woman who would ever join them was the loudest, rudest, gaudiest great aunt, and though even the die hard smokers never once lit up inside, the place always had a haze of smoke. I remember watching my aunt come back from the dance floor and immediately sitting down and fanning herself with a napkin, wishing I could dance enough that I would have to go in search of my own napkin-fan. I remember smelling beer on the breath of those that would lean in to yell something in my ear, over the noise of whatever band or song the DJ might be playing.
I remember dancing until I threw up.

I remember, I was never bored. Tired, yes, frustrated that I wasn't the absolute center of attention, of course, but never bored.

I haven't been to one of those kinds of functions in at least eight years. The great aunt's pass away, the couples do too, money can't be spent on just any party, nobody has the energy to drive out to the middle of nowhere anymore, you run out of shit to celebrate.

Somewhere in there, I lost that childish sense of fun. I stay in whenever possible cuz, god, people suck. I only dance in the dark. Fun now, is smoking a cigarette (or a joint, as the case may be) on the front lawn while staring up at the moon. Fun now, is stealing a beer from the fridge and sipping at it while watching some old-as-dirt show that I never liked, but it's mildly amusing and it's something to do. Fun now, is going to a rock show, and even that has gone from pushing and shoving and getting in the crowd, screaming with the guy next to me, to standing back and really listening to the music, occasionally throwing up a hand sign or two, screaming only when each song ends, in the last few years. I used to do the chicken dance, not caring how much of an idiot I made out of myself, now I point and rant about the people who sway enthusiastically, too drunk to care who's watching.

It seems impossible to believe that in the last ten years, I've changed this much. Because, yes, it's ten years, but it's only ten years. I'm still a child for Christ's sake.
It seems for one, unfathomable, and two completely fucking terrifying, that in a little over 4 months I will be legally considered an adult.

Somewhere in me, there is that child's sense of fun. The dirt floors of some of the venues are vaguely reminiscent of the concrete dance floors in the rundown buildings that were spotted and dirty and could break a bone in three places if you fell on it. The bass lines vibrating in my chest feel like the beat of that one Kumbia Kings song they always played, that I knew all the words to but never bothered to learn the name, that I could feel down to the tips of my fingers. The lights shining on the bands are similar to ones I'd watch and make myself dizzy tracing their patterns as they flashed and wove over the dancers.

I may be taller than I was, I may wear makeup, contacts, I may have the faintest trace of laugh lines, but I'm still a fucking child.

Somewhere in me there is still a 5 year old who just wants to go out onto the dance floor, and dance until she throws up.

ahh, the boredom

Sun, 15 Nov 2009 08:23:27 GMT

Stole a whatchamacallit from patentpending .

Music and such.

1. Coheed & Cambria
2. My Chemical Romance
3. The Prize Fighter Inferno
4. Shabutie
5. Green Day
6. Selena
7. The Used
8. Muse
9. Chevelle
10. Carlos Vives
11. Red Hot Chili Peppers
12. R.E.M.
13. Taking Back Sunday
14. Imogen Heap
15. Celine Dion
16. Gnarls Barkley
17. TAT
18. Elvis Crespo
19. Coldplay
20. Christina Aguilera
21. Bush
22. Bullet For My Valentine
23. Billy Talent
24. Alkaline Trio
25. Against Me!
26. Amy Winehouse
27. Weerd Science
28. What Made Milwaukee Famous
29. Weezer (freakin hilarious that there’s 3 that start with B, 3 that start with A and 3 that start with W right after each other. Guess I listen to my music alphabetically?)
30. A Perfect Circle
31. Fito Olivares
32. Tool
33. Lacuna Coil
34. Sublime
35. Queen
36. Pink
37. Panic At The Disco (where does the ! go again?)
38. Nirvana
39. Misfits
40. Michael Jackson
41. Juanes
42. Glasvegas
43. Foo Fighters
44. Matchbook Romance
45. Flobots
46. Eminem
47. The Distillers
48. Depeche Mode
49. Ray Charles
50. Chester French

1. What's your favorite song by 15?
Her version of Ave Maria is just gorgeous.

2. How did you get into 20?
I don't know, Disney? Lol.

3. Who is your favorite member in 1?
Mmmurgh, Claudio Sanchez.

4. What’s your favorite lyric bit by 29?
No idea, I really only ever listen to the first 25.

5. Have you ever seen 22 live?
3 times, I think.

6. What's your favorite album from 10?
Clásicos de la Provincia

7. Do you own any merchandise from 3?
Yup, wish I had more though.

8. What is a good memory you have of 7?
Last week at La Zona Rosa

9. Is there a member of the same age as you in 2?
No, but there's a couple who are almost twice my age.

10. When did you first get into 8?
Err, whenever Hysteria was a single.

11. Who likes 4 along with you?
Any and all Children of the Fence, lol.

12. Which song did you first hear from 16?
Craaaaazy.

13. What song made you fall in love with 5?
Absolutely positively fall in love? Macy's Day Parade.

14. Which song do you not like by 18?
There are a few but I don't know song titles besides the ones I like.

15. Why do you like 14's songs?
They're just, different.

16. Where did you first hear 6?
Umm, in the womb?

17. How long was 19 a singer before you liked them?
A while. I didn't really start to get into them 'til around 03, 04-ish

18. Does 13 have a song that gives you a bad memory?
No, but I can't listen to "What's It Feel Like To Be A Ghost?" without thinking of Degrassi.

19. When did you get into 17?
Last year's Warped Tour.

20. How long have you been into 9?
Something like, 4 years.

21. If 11 had a concert 300 miles away, would you drive there to see them?
I've driven 500 miles to see them.

22. How many CDs do you own of 12?
Haha, none.

23. Does 21 have a song that makes you cry?
Glycerine, yeah.

24. Does 27 have a song that makes you happy?
Hahaha, I'm not sure how I feel about any of their songs.

25. Does 23 have a song that makes you smile?
Yup, can't think of the damn name though.

26. What's the last song you've listened to from 28?
Sultan, of course.

27. Is there a song by 32 that you've listened to more than 30 times?
Eulogy

28. What is a song from 50 that you've only listened to once?
None. I've only ever heard one.

29. Is there a song you are sick of hearing by 24?
Nope.

30. What song got you into 40?
Oh damn, I don't know. Man in the Mirror, probably.

31. What is your favorite single by 25?
Don't Loose Touch

32. If 49 hated you, what would you do?
Uh...hmm...

33. What would you say if 42 or one of the members from 42 asked you out?
Fucking laugh.

34. Would you care if 41 had a boyfriend/girlfriend?
Not one bit.

35. Who has the best voice in 46?
There's only one and he doesn't sing so...

36. Do you think 26 is/are good looking?
She used to be...somewhat good looking.

37. How many times have you listened to your favorite song by 36?
6 apparently, but I know it's more than that.

38. How many CDs do you own of 30?
None.

39. Is there a song from 38 that makes you mad?
None that I can't think of.

40. Which member from 31 do you want to see go solo? If 31 is only one artist, what would you do if they joined a group?
I've only ever heard one song of theirs so I probably wouldn't give a damn if they joined a group.

41. What does your favorite song from 48 remind you of?
Depression. Like, severe.

42. Did you hate 43 at first?
No.

43. Does your best friend also listen to 33?
No. But when I hear 33, I think Coheed and they do listen to Coheed and--I'll stop.

44. Do you think your parents would like 37?
My mom does. My dad likes nothing I like. That's not in spanish.

45. Does 47 have a song that makes you want to dance?
Dance, eh. Mosh, fuck yeah.

46. Have you ever seen 34 in person?
No, and I seriously doubt that's gonna happen.

47. Do you like 44's name?
Sure?

48. Is there someone in 45 that you want to go out with?
No.

49. Do you know anyone that hates 39?
No, actually.

50. Have you ever danced to a song from 35?
Hahahaha, yes!

This Week...

Mon, 19 Oct 2009 14:03:47 GMT

I'm sort of rediscovering IKSSE3. I'm feeling the little tugs at my choir nerd heart all over again.

And while on the topic...

A choir nerd's wet dream.

The last 44 seconds still give me chills.

I have the best fur babies ever

Fri, 11 Sep 2009 14:42:10 GMT

The other day I was having a breakdown. Everything fell apart in my head and I spent the night crying my goddamn eyes out. The next morning I, of course, had a major bitch of a headache, and was still feeling pretty awful.

Sam--->

came inside, ate a little snack and went to stand by the door. I opened the door, he stuck his head out, then turned around and came back in. He did that twice, then I went outside with him and sat on the deck, petting him. I got up, went back inside, and Sam followed. He ate, then walked over to me and stood in front of me. He refused to go outside until I picked him up and cuddled him. He was determined to make me feel better and after I put him down my headache was not even half as bad as it had been just a few minutes before. This is a cat who has decapitated squirrels, just for fun, and scared off big dogs. This is also the same cat that kills birds and brings them to me on Mother's Day.

This morning, Simone--->

and I got up about the same time. It's been raining around here and she HATES water. It took me and my dad to even get her out the door. When we were trying to pull her down the steps from the deck, we got the front paws down, then she sat down on her back paws that were still on the top step and made herself heavy. My dad had to pick her paws up and drag her off the steps. It was the fucking funniest thing I've ever seen. Even after that, she was clinging to my legs and she wouldn't go in to her little gated area in the back. My dad had to actually pick her up and place her inside the gate. My stomach still hurts from laughing.

These weird, crazy, adorkable little creatures are what keep me going.

too cute

Mon, 27 Jul 2009 00:54:31 GMT

stolen from pineapplemango

OTTER LOVE!!

Today's rant...

Sun, 12 Jul 2009 01:57:07 GMT

Creepers At The Laundromat: No Place Is Safe!

Our washer has been broken for the last few weeks so we've had to go to the Spin Cycle on SoCo. Last night, or rather, this morning, my mom and I decided to go since it was getting to be 2 a.m. and neither of us were all that tired.

We got there, loaded up washers and sat, and waited. (Btw, what is with the change machines that will only take your dollar if it's been ironed beforehand?) For the most part, we were the only ones there. There were a couple of guys that were there when we got there, but left about an hour before we were done. Then there was the lady that works there cleaning the machines and whatnot.

About 20 minutes before our clothes were done drying, this guy came in. He looked nice enough, friendly even. I looked over once, he smiled, and, deciding to be polite, I smiled back. A few minutes later, I felt like someone was staring at me, I looked around and the same guy was looking at me, smiling. I acknowledged him and turned back to the dryers. A few minutes after that, I still felt eyes on me. I quickly glanced around and there he was, staring. Then he started moving closer to us.

I've never folded clothes so fast. I never knew I could fold clothes that fast.

Why?? Why did this pervert feel the need to wash clothes at 3 in the fucking morning? Why at that laundromat? And why did he think it was okay to stare at me?? Shouldn't he be out and about on 6th street? There's a lot more to look at around there.
If you want to be friendly, that's great. One smile is quite enough. If you want to strike up a conversation, try the woman who works there, I'm sure she'd appreciate it, seeing as she's probably been there for a while, not saying much to anyone other than answering ridiculous questions.
Maybe you're just one of those people that stare. Okay, but would you mind NOT staring at me while I fold my underwear?! Thanks.

stupid things I did today

Wed, 08 Jul 2009 02:29:26 GMT

-Smoked a cigarette in my car laying down. Sam jumped onto the hood of my car and scared the crap out of me. I yelped, dropped the lit cigarette and now have a nice burn on my collarbone that looks like a hickey.

-Instead of adjusting the shower faucet thing, I just about bent over backwards to wash my hair. It wasn't until my lower back started to hurt like a bitch that I realized I could've just repositioned the damn thing.

-Walked into a door frame. When I PMS, I really PMS. I get it all, but the first thing that I notice is I become a total fucking klutz. My depth perception is totally shot, I spill water everywhere whether I'm washing my hands, drinking it, or washing out Simone's water bowl, and I try to avoid glasses and breakables at all costs. Any other day I could walk through my house in my sleep without a problem, today, I walked into the kitchen and damn near dislocated my shoulder.

Mon, 15 Jun 2009 06:29:16 GMT

I haven't had much to rant about lately (cuz, lets face it, that's all I ever do around here) but something was bound to come up sooner or later so, here it goes...

My dad went to Houston today. He came back with a shiny new computer that my uncle set up for him. Not a problem, so long as I don't have to teach him how to use it.
My cousin informed us that another one of our cousins, one of my father's beloved nephews, set up a facebook account for him, and he has pictures of his art, and friends and everything. And hey, he might actually use it!

Cool. But, wait. I made a myspace account for him about a year ago. Where was my excited exclamation? Where was my thank you? Where the hell were the pictures of his artwork that I could put up?

My cousin also set up a website for him. Great. So I wasted my time, not to mention a good $20 on a book about html and css and all that crap, trying to figure out how to create and manage a website. Lets not forget managing mine and his myspace for awhile which was a little difficult considering I had absolutely nothing to work with.

No, no need to thank me. I offered to do all of those things. No apology necessary. Just don't ever ask me to do anything for you again. And please, slap me across the face if I ever offer to help you with something you should, and could, do yourself.

Bastard.

ROTFLMAO--old IM conversations

Sun, 24 May 2009 16:29:51 GMT

~~(the other person's name is blacked asterisked out cuz I don't know how they feel about sharing that info--but you know who you are)~~

Oh fuck it! if you can see it, tell me and i'll fix it.

I GIVE UP LJ!! YOU WIN!!!!!! motherfucker.

[00:55] **********: "Attention customers: Testicles. That is all."

[00:55] **********: ... I am so doing a soundcheck with that.

[00:55] SeaAmenome: haha

[00:55] SeaAmenome: mine would be just random insults

[00:56] SeaAmenome: "you in the front, you look like a hobo"

[00:56] SeaAmenome: "drunkard by the bar, you're showing crack..."

[00:57] **********: No, you know what? I would babble off science nerd stuff. Basic programming code and the three laws of robotics and shit.

[00:57] SeaAmenome: "roadie to my left...get a haircut..."

[00:57] **********: ... both of which I know.

[00:57] **********: NO.

[00:57] **********: I KNOW WHAT I WOULD DO.

[00:57] **********: I would spout off random spoilers for various movies and stuff.

[00:58] **********: "Oh, and, by the way, Dumbledore dies..."

[00:58] SeaAmenome: oh man! start rambling off 70's disco lyrics. a la Cake

[00:58] **********: ... ahahah I like that.

[00:58] **********: Or, like, Jack Handy "Deep Thoughts" stuff

[00:58] SeaAmenome: i will...survive

********************************************************

[02:35] **********: Well, if I go into a diabetic coma and die, at least I'll know that the last thing I did was enjoy some kickass cheesecake

[02:36] SeaAmenome: that's...comforting

[02:36] SeaAmenome: ...i guess...

[02:36] **********: ... if you're me, it is.

[02:36] **********: I'd rather that than my last moments be, like... you or Sanchez coming after me with a chainsaw.

[02:36] **********: ... cake or death, Dia?

[02:36] SeaAmenome: ...cake...

[02:37] SeaAmenome: wait...

[02:37] SeaAmenome: yeah, cake :)

[02:37] *********: I apparently chose all of the above. hurgh.

[02:37] SeaAmenome: i wouldn't actually come at you with a chainsaw

[02:37] SeaAmenome: i might rev it up a bit...

******************************************************

[04:18] SeaAmenome: zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

[04:19] **********: I sleeeep after this

[04:19] **********: sleep goood

[04:19] SeaAmenome: *snore, cough, snore*

[04:19] **********: ...

[04:19] **********: Claudio showering

[04:19] SeaAmenome: ...i actually don't snore

[04:19] SeaAmenome: god damn you

[04:19] **********: ahahhahaa!

[04:19] **********: now are you seriously complaining?

[04:19] SeaAmenome: yes, i was falling asleep

[04:20] **********: ... I'm sorry?

[04:20] SeaAmenome: hopefully to a nice dream...

[04:20] **********: well

[04:20] **********: go to sleep now

[04:20] **********: And have an even better dream

[04:20] SeaAmenome: but noooooooooo, someone had to kill that didn't they?

[04:20] **********: : D

[04:21] SeaAmenome: s'not that easy

[04:21] SeaAmenome: insomnia and such. it creeps up on me. i'll be falling asleep and all of a sudden my mind goes 'hey! let's go for a walk!'

[04:21] **********: ahaha, I have the same problem

[04:21] **********: It comes in waves like that

[04:22] SeaAmenome: my insomniac episode this weekend...it was like a blackout

[04:22] SeaAmenome: i remember talking to you and being at kat's but the specifics are lost

[04:22] **********: Yeesh

[04:22] **********: Well

[04:23] **********: There was talk of tying me, Claudio, and Gerard up in a graveyard.

[04:23] SeaAmenome: you?

[04:23] SeaAmenome: why you?

[04:23] SeaAmenome: what'd you do?

[04:23] **********: Yes, because. ... I don't remember. OH RIGHT, I was joking about you raping me for some reason. Hang on, I have quotes.

[04:23] SeaAmenome: ....yuh oh

******************************************************

********** (1254:58 AM): ***, HELP ME. I'M GONNA GET TIED UP AND RAPED IN A GRAVEYARD.

SeaAmenome (12:55:00 AM): compared to fourteen, not so much

********** (12:55:05 AM): THERE'S GONNA BE A CHAINSAW.

SeaAmenome (12:55:41 AM): fuck yeah!

********** (12:56:00 AM): oh sh-- D:

********** (12:56:19 AM): I would say CLAUDIO HELP ME but he'd be the one behind the chainsaw.

SeaAmenome (12:57:08 AM): haha, yeah

SeaAmenome (12:57:26 AM): oh geez, kinky chainsaw sex...that's even too much for me

********** (12:57:48 AM): ... I meant threatening me and keeping me there, but whatever floats ya boat, kiddo.

********** (1:40:55 AM): CAN... YOU... STAKE... MY... HEART?!

SeaAmenome (1:41:17 AM): ...alvin?

********** (1:41:42 AM): ... yes, that's my secret identity.

********** (1:42:10 AM): You were planning on kidnapping and raping Alvin in a graveyard with Claudio Sanchez standing guard with a chainsaw.

SeaAmenome (1:42:18 AM): well, my whole belief system just went to shit

********** (1:42:19 AM): ... welcome to the Twilight Zone.

********** (1:59:38 AM):The Crowing is on! You know what this means.

*planets align*

*birds and angels sing*

*all is right with the world*

SeaAmenome (2:00:01 AM): ....right well, i'm still not fucking you

*********************************************************

[04:26] **********: I wish I could remember what led to me being tied up in the graveyard... I think it was just me coming to the conclusion that you were trying to seduce me.

[04:26] SeaAmenome: how the hell did you get there?

[04:26] **********: ... well, you were being Creepy Uncle Dia, and I was like, "are you trying to seduce me?" And you said something like "Always." I was like, "I KNEW IT."

[04:27] **********: And then we discussed me going to jail because you're jailbait

[04:27] SeaAmenome: not by that much! okay, there's the flashback...

[04:27] **********: ahaha yep

**********************************************************

[04:32] **********: ... you're a very special, special girl.

[04:32] **********: Just so you know.

[04:32] SeaAmenome: oh i know.

[04:32] **********: And I mean that with all the love in the world

[04:32] SeaAmenome: graveyard sex is new, though.

[04:32] SeaAmenome: dunno how that came up but w/e

[04:32] **********: you apparently liked the prospect

[04:33] SeaAmenome: yup

[04:33] SeaAmenome: still do

[04:33] SeaAmenome: not with you though

[04:33] **********: well, I think it originally started with Claudio/dead!Gerard necrophilia somehow

[04:33] **********: ... I've got no clue what lead to that

[04:33] SeaAmenome: okay, no. necrophilia, nonono

[04:33] SeaAmenome: that was you

[04:33] **********: Yeah, that was me

[04:33] SeaAmenome: you took the graveyard thing a step too far

[04:33] **********: For the record, no, I am not into necrophilia.

[04:33] **********: I just find it hilarious.

[04:34] **********: ... which is possibly just as bad

[04:34] SeaAmenome: ick

[04:34] **********: something somewhere in my brain is horribly misplaced

[04:34] SeaAmenome: that can't be sanitary. not that that's the only thing wrong with it

[04:35] **********: pahahahhaha

[04:35] **********: as I said... you're a special girl.

[04:35] **********: Ahaha

[04:36] SeaAmenome: i'm a tad germaphobic. and it's only worsened by my OCD

[04:36] SeaAmenome: you can see how i got to that

[04:36] **********: I'd imagine so.

[04:36] **********: But germs are not my immediate concern with necrophilia

[04:36] **********: Actually, my first thought is usually, "Is necrophilia rape?"

[04:36] SeaAmenome: why are we having this conversation?!?

[04:37] SeaAmenome: ....is it?

[04:37] **********: ... because it's obscene hours of the morning and I've had a lot of sugar and haven't slept?

SEE?! It's a fair question.

[04:37] **********: me and my friend ** once discussed whether or not sex with zombies was rape

[04:38] SeaAmenome: well, it's not like they can give their consent

[04:38] SeaAmenome: so maybe that's where the rape part comes in?

[04:38] **********: Yeah

[04:39] **********: ... I'm still amused by "right well, I'm still not fucking you"

[04:39] **********: for some reason.

[04:39] **********: S'like GEE, THANKS A LOT

[04:39] SeaAmenome: i don't swing that way, doll. sorry

[04:39] **********: ... I only do half of the time?

[04:39] **********: :P

[04:39] **********: hahaha!

[04:39] SeaAmenome: haha

******************************************************

[04:31] **********: Also, OH-HO, DIA, WHAT ARE YOU UP TO?

[04:32] SeaAmenome: yeah, i've seen that one

[04:32] SeaAmenome: and uh, i'm not ....sure...

[04:34] SeaAmenome: yo, dude. should i be scared

[04:34] **********: Uh, I don't think so

[04:34] **********: if the pants come off, then worry

[04:34] SeaAmenome: hahaha

[04:35] SeaAmenome: oh, self. livin' up to the name...

******************************************************

[02:48] SeaAmenome: AT THE END OF THE WORRRRRLD

[02:49] SeaAmenome: OR THE LAST THING I SEEEEEEEE

[02:49] **********: YOU WERE

[02:49] **********: NEVER COMING HOME NEVER COMING HOME

[02:49] **********: ... MIKEEEEEEEEY ;_____;

[02:50] SeaAmenome: RUN, MIKEY, RUNNNNN

[02:50] SeaAmenome: my itunes is bumming me out, man

******************************************************

[00:28] SeaAmenome: HI!!!!

[00:28] **********: HI

[00:28] **********: You seem enthusiastic.

[00:28] SeaAmenome: right?

[00:29] SeaAmenome: i don't know how that happened...

[00:29] **********: Ahaha!

[00:29] **********: You suddenly sprouted a soul

[00:29] SeaAmenome: hmm, that must be it.

******************************************************

[03:10] SeaAmenome: yeah, i didn't even try to read that

[03:10] **********: ahahaha

[03:11] SeaAmenome: mother fucker

[03:12] SeaAmenome: just so you know, in the next few minutes you are going to be reading a slew of obscenities

[03:12] **********: ... okay!

[03:12] SeaAmenome: also, Nightmare Of You

[03:12] SeaAmenome: *_*

******************************************************

[03:25] **********: he also carries around a cross-shaped gun that probably weighs more than he does

[03:25] SeaAmenome: if Dia were a preacher...

******************************************************

In conclusion, I need to start IMing again

Thu, 21 May 2009 23:54:23 GMT

I got this email today:

MEET GREEN DAY AT HOT TOPIC – HOLLYWOOD

Green Day will be signing autographs at the Hollywood & Highland Hot Topic located at 6801 Hollywood Blvd., Los Angeles, CA 90028 on Tuesday, June 2nd at 7:00 PM. This is your chance to meet them! Beginning May 15th, purchase the new Green Day CD, 21st Century Breakdown, and an exclusive Green Day T–shirt for $30* from the Hollywood & Highland Hot Topic location ONLY and receive a wristband** that guarantees the opportunity to meet the band on June 2nd!

The sad thing is, I know this Hot Topic, I went to this Hot Topic when we were staying in L.A. for Neverender. I could've lived at that Hot Topic.

*sigh* I need to move.

Mon, 18 May 2009 09:19:52 GMT

Goddammit.

I should not miss you this much.

es morena, pesimista y...sentimental??

Wed, 13 May 2009 08:29:12 GMT

My last Spanish class is Thursday. It's not even a full class, just take the final, and off we go.

I can't believe how much I already knew. I'd obviously forgotten--despite the fact that I could speak Spanish long before I spoke English--but it's more like, I had locked it away in a dark corner of my brain. The more we learned, the more I remembered.
I'm gonna take Spanish 2 in the fall, with the same teacher, cuz I love Profesora D, and hopefully with Tory.

I'm gonna miss that class. It's been 16 weeks, and I really shouldn't be so attached, but hell, they were so much fun. I loved re-learning my native language, but the teacher and the other students are what made it interesting. I'm gonna miss the stupid tangents we'd inevitably go off on and Profesora D's stories about her children, and those songs she'd sing when a certain phrase reminded her of it.

Having been a student my entire life, I know how rare it is to get that perfect mix of people, where everyone gets along, everyone is tolerant of one another and there's as much laughter as there is learning. Even in dance classes, where you're free to be creative and express yourself and be a total nut, with no judgement, nobody ever got along with absolutely everybody.

We've shared our life stories, our religious beliefs, our medical problems, our romantic problems, our career endeavors, and it's only been 16 weeks.

I'm gonna miss the hell out of that class of crazy fools. Thank you guys for making Spanish 1 one of the most entertaining and fun courses of my scholastic career.

and if I'm not?

Mon, 04 May 2009 10:22:57 GMT

It faded. But did I want it to?

I don't think I would've cared any more or less either way.

And this affects me. I'm not even sure how. There's a pulling in my chest that's not anger or sadness or anything I could put into words.
But it's there. Every time.

And I wonder if it'll ever go away. Cuz let's be honest, it was quite a while ago. And it was over and done with even longer ago. But I still get that twinge, that uncomfortable little pinching of sorts that makes me want to run screaming around the block.

The most I can do is turn the music up as loud as it will go and bite at my pillows. Anything else would draw too much attention. Anything more would mean I cared.

So why does this bother me and that doesn't? That meant more, or it felt like it did. To be honest, it was more. And I've been so apathetic to that downfall that it's a little frightening.

Self-preservation maybe? Or was it never what I thought it to be?

It's not about that, it's about this. And here's the thing about this. I cared more than I realized and it meant more than I meant it to.
And at this point, after feeling that all words were honest, I feel they were all lies.

Something I'm very used to by now.

It's a chapter, an experience to file away, revisit on a slow day, reflect on and laugh about, and probably cry a little too.

But it's still too new. The wound I didn't know of is still too fresh. And I cannot stand to know that only I feel this.

This affects me. And I hate that it does. And as great as it was, because at some point, it was, maybe this shouldn't have happened at all.

In short, bite me.

the mind is a very powerful thing

Tue, 28 Apr 2009 13:26:17 GMT

You're all gonna think I'm a loon, but oh well.

I have this idea--only now it's more of a "I'm-sure-as-fucking-hell" thing--and my mom and at least one other person can totally back me up with this.
I believe, that when I want something really fucking badly, and keep it in my mind, I can make it happen.

Yeah, fit me for a straight jacket, right?

I'll give you some Coheed examples.

Last year, the whole drive up to Summerfest and the whole drive back, I kept telling my mom over and over and over how I'd love to hear Three Evils live. The week after we got back, if even, they announced Neverender. No, I'm not dumb enough to think that was all my doing, but c'mon! Couldn't just be a coincidence!

After Summerfest, I told my mom I'd really like to go to Lollapalooza, the next year of course, and hey, wouldn't be awesome if Coheed played and we went? They're playing Lollapalooza this year, oh yes they are.

And mom and I have been saying, since we fucking started going to ACL, that Coheed should play. Austin fucking loves them, what better place? THEY'RE FUCKING PLAYING ACL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I've been on this one hardcore for the last year at least and they just announced the line-up and my mom met them at Summerfest and told them they should come back to Austin and I truly believe she helped in a big way, but fucking hell!

And it's not limited to Coheed related things. It's happened a million times with smaller things that I really want and big things as well.
I can make shit happen. I totally believe this. If I want it bad enough, it'll happen.

EEEEEEEEEE, OH MY GOD, THEY'RE PLAYING ACL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*PENGUIN FLAIL*

...now, if they play The Crowing, I will eat my fucking hat...

My First Coheed Show

Sun, 19 Apr 2009 19:10:52 GMT

I was hunting for one of my dozens of notebooks and got distracting looking at what I'd written in them. I found this. I'm not sure when I wrote it, probably sometime last year, but it's probably one of the best things I've ever written, and a perfect example of how just going to see this band can be an amazing experience.

*********************

One of those rare fall days that was actually cool.
Mid-October, wind whips your hair around, clothes being pushed and pulled every which way, the sun just barely keeping you warm.
Four hours of the open air; getting closer and closer to the stage, crowding around closer to the other people that are there for the same reason. Four hours, and no matter how many times you like your lips, they're dry and cracking and you feel they'll never be soft again. Four hours and your nose is numb from the biting wind, icy when you touch it and your hands feel like they're burning when you raise them to your face.
Four hours and the lights go down.
You've managed to work your way quite into the crowd but in the few seconds that the lights have gone from dark to a dark, bloody red you've been pushed farther ahead.
A distant violin begins to play barely audible above the shrieks and cries of the drunk, the high, and the completely sober. Suddenly everything is warm, you start to sweat and the collective body temperature only rises as the violin gets louder, the lights keep up their hellish glow, the crowd gets louder, you lose your footing. You've lost contact with the one you swore you'd stay glued to and your cursing yourself for wearing the windbreaker and the beanie you've had to recover twice in the last 60 seconds.
You push back, catch your breath, and hold it because fuck knows when you'll be able to come back up for air.
The red gets deeper, the violin louder, the crowd more violent until all you can see are limbs, coming at you, pushing hard, pulling harder. All you can hear is the violin that matches so horrifically with the death of red that has taken over all you senses.
The only thing you can think of, as your hair becomes slicked to your face, is to stay alive.
You push against someone's shin with your right foot, another's knee with your left. You clutch at someone's shirt, put your cap in your mouth--you'll breathe when you get out.
The haunting tune is coming to a close, the air is getting hotter and increasingly wet and you panic because god only knows how much worse it'll get.
You turn, as fast as is possible, between the sweating, screaming bodies. No time to talk, no breath to spare. Pushing through a final human barricade, your feet once again on solid ground. You hurriedly grab your friends hand and don't let go for the rest of the set, putting your hat back on and adjusting your clothes in between "are you okay"s.
You turn to face front, the next song kicks up and your heart rate never slows for the rest of the night.
You've just had one of the most horrific, terrifying, amazing, wonderful experiences of your life.

Tue, 14 Apr 2009 16:55:11 GMT

Mostly, I'm mad at myself.

But for the most part, I've accepted that this is the way it's going to happen for me.
None of that picture perfect crap. But when has anything ever been?

I'm strangely content with my decisions. And for once, I don't care what my parents are going to think of me. Because it's not about them, it's about me. And if it makes them happy, but makes me miserable, that's just not how it's supposed to be.

Even stranger, I'm proud. Of myself, of my finally being able to let it go. I preach things happen for a reason, what's meant to be is meant to be, but rarely do I ever take my own advice and live by those phrases.
It's not a matter of letting shit happen to you, it's you making it happen and accepting that whatever happens happens and if it's not what you wanted, well, at least you tried.

Winners aren't the ones who get everything in the end. It's the ones who never give up.

And yes, I sound like a fucking after school special, but believe it or not, it's true.
I haven't given up. I've accepted that this is what I'm meant to do.
And I feel like I've freed myself to live in this entirely new way. I feel like I'm growing up. And as much as I hate to admit it, it's one of the best feelings in the world.

Tue, 14 Apr 2009 05:56:07 GMT

Life is a series of events.

My life is a series of ridiculous events.

There are things I remember from upwards of ten years ago.
Going to Disney World with my mom for my 4th birthday, losing track of where we parked the ugly white rental car and trying to find it amidst the rows and rows of other white cars.

The year before when my cousin had a water-themed birthday party and we all put on life jackets and got in little steer-it-yourself boats that looked more like seats on inner tubes. My mom and I made the mistake of getting in one by ourselves and could not steer the damn thing. While everyone else went around the little river like area, chasing each other and whatnot, my mom and I sat right where we'd started as the boat spun like a tilt-a-whirl. And when we tried to get the staff's attention to help us, at least to get it to stop spinning, they thought we were waving and just waved back.

The summer of 97 when we drove to Disney World and stayed in motels in rooms next to noisy rock band boys and rooms where the ceiling was falling down in pieces on top of us.

Everything from little things like standing up and my pants instantly falling down, to big things like missing the same exit out of Ft. Worth 4 times within 30 minutes, each for a different reason.
Driving to Dallas and back in one weekend, breaking about 20 driving laws, just to get a quinceañera dress.
Getting lost in every city from here to San Francisco. Getting lost in every city from here to Milwaukee. Getting lost in every city from here to Orlando.
Almost driving to Mexico, completely by accident.

My first rock show, where I almost got shot and pulled into a fight with a woman who was drunk off her ass and at least 30 years older.

Having some idiot who was crowdsurfing dropped directly onto my head.

Going in to pee at a gas station in Zephyr, Texas, that turned out to be a combination gas station/restaurant/video store/bait store/ammo shop, with everybody looking at us like they were two seconds from pulling out their shotguns.

Getting locked out in the cold while we were swimming in the hotel pool and having the option to yell at the security guard or walk around, into the streets of downtown San Francisco at midnight, and into the lobby with too-small towels.

Laying in the front yard, trying not to get caught smoking, looking more suspicious than we could ever imagine.

Almost getting arrested last year by two bike cops, who saw me crying on a street corner and laughing hysterically and thought I was on drugs.

Getting my boobs sung to by some drunk guy at ACL. (Iron Maiden wouldn't have been my first choice, but, whatever.)

Going on dates without actually knowing that I was on a date.

The entirety of my trip to Italy.

And so, so, so many more.

Yup, that's my life.

The Soundtrack to my Toddlerhood

Mon, 06 Apr 2009 02:11:09 GMT

(ignore the videos that obviously have nothing to do with the song)

The first song I ever danced to...outside the womb. I couldn't walk, so I'd hold myself up on my playpen and just bounce up and down.

One of the first times I realized how proud I was to be Colombian.

(ignore the last 15 seconds or so)

The last two: every wedding, quinceañera, great aunt's 70-some-odd birthday party. Without fail.

There's also a mariachi singer called Nydia Rojas that I can't find any videos of songs that I recognize, but I looooove her.

Somehow, I went from ^^^ that, to this:

But I still listen to my old favorites on a regular basis, now that I've found them again.

Ahh, to be three again...

Meeeemoriiiiiessss!

Fri, 03 Apr 2009 21:46:59 GMT

In honor of my recent nostalgia for Italy, I give you...

Quotes From Across The Pond!

(taken from my shiny, sparkly, totally gaudy Italy journal)

"Jesus loves you" --Anissa, my bus buddy, homesick buddy, overall Italy buddy. Probably during a moment of intense sleep deprivation.

"I'd like to meet a woman who could reach into my pocket without me knowing" --Mr. Stoops, History teacher. I could've gone my entire life without hearing that from any of my teachers.

"If you're straight, you're bi"--Mr. Stoops. Fuck me for sitting in the row in front of him.

"He's not even pointing right!"--Mr. Sombathy, my 6th grade World Cultures teacher, in reference to a drawing on the wall pointing to the "Pipi Room". It was a dude that uh...wasn't...pointing right....

"It's past crap. It's shit."--Me. The room in what became affectionately known as the Rat's Ass Hotel.

"We Are Family..." --Kim H.B. She started something of a disco in the bus on our last night. An oldies cd, loud speaker on the bus, and a few dozen tired, buzzed Americans in a charter bus. Use your imagination.

"They need to start serving good food around here"--Anne. Might I remind you we were in freakin ITALY at the time!

"We can make out later Kimberly"--Me. She was, for all intents and purposes, drunk, we were all exhausted, and she wouldn't stop hanging on to me.

"Let's take a picture with the horse shit!" --Kim H.B. Ahh, Florence.

There's also a Hobo-tionary (Hobo Dictionary) that Anissa and I came up with, but I'll spare you the headache.

I probably got ten hours of sleep alltogether that entire week. But it was so much fun, and I miss it like hell!

Other important details:
-We slept in a room three nights in a row that was on a floor that was almost completely occupied by Italian military. There was a guy walking back and forth in front of the elevators with a machine gun slung over his shoulder when we got there, and one of them, drunk as hell, tried to get into our room.

-In the Rat's Ass Hotel, which was the military hotel, the bathroom had a shower. Well, actually, the bathroom WAS the shower. A sink, a toilet, a faucet coming out of the wall, a little rod for a curtain and a drain in the middle of the floor. The End. We had to roll up our pants if we wanted to go back in there after someone had showered. You could literaly brush your teeth, wash your hair, and take a shit all at the same time.

-The first day was spent in a total daze. I'd slept a total of two hours from the time we left Austin to the time we landed in Milan. Anissa and I kept seeing these markers on the road move and thought they were really skinny hobos with hats. Hence, the Hobo-tionary.

-I ate gelato every fucking day. Every. Fucking. Day. And it was good.

-I spent money like it was going out of style. I got everybody something though, so, they couldn't be mad.

-There were numerous Bash Fests at night. We'd go to each other's room and rag on people we didn't like that were on the trip with us. I heard more gossip during those nine days than I've heard in my entire life.

-The third and fourth nights were spent in a hotel in Tuscany, out in the middle of ass-nowhere that looked like some kind of abandoned building, complete with a well in the middle of the courtyard type thing. Let's think back, this was right around the time The Ring first came out. I was 12. Can we see the problem?

-Mr. Sombathy and Mr. Stoops are cruel, evil human beings. Anissa and I were walking back to her room-this was the kind of place where to get to another room in another building, you had to go out and around-there were tall trees everywhere and Stoops and Sombathy threw open a window and screamed right when we were walking past. We screamed bloody murder and ran like hell, only to hear them cackling behind us. This was at the peak of our homesickness. Evil.

-There was a limit to how many people we could have in our rooms at one time. We went waaaay past that limit every day.

-Secret by Maroon 5 is my Italy anthem. I listened to it on the plane to Milan and it was the only thing that comforted me and helped me fall asleep. Every time I listen to it I tear up and feel like I'm back on that plane.

Anyone want pictures?

Thu, 02 Apr 2009 09:56:21 GMT

Two years ago, my world fell apart.

The summer after I turned 13 I started drinking. A couple of months after that, I started cutting myself. Soon after that, I started taking any and all available pills.
What started off being something I did on the weekends, turned into a daily thing. Cut before school, pop a few Motrin, pack a few to sell to the other pathetic kids at school, get home, sneak a drink, wait til everyone else went to bed, get drunk, pop a few more pills, go to sleep. I spent most of eighth grade drunk or hungover, on some kind of medication, and trying to hide an ever growing amount of cuts and scars.

All this I did out of boredom. I'd been depressed--and even suicidal--since I was ten. But I'd leaned to ignore it and get on with my life. Do what needs to get done and the rest will have to resolve itself on its own. I got bored with just doing what needed to get done. I was on autopilot and everything was too easy.

When I started high school, everything kind of died down. I cut occasionally, I had quit drinking as often, and I kept myself extremely busy with school. No time to worry about hiding cuts, no time to sell pills, no reason to.
Someone who I considered to be something of a best friend had royally screwed me over, but another had stepped up and I was able to move on without getting completely self-destructive.

Then, in November of 2006, my grandma died. Everything stopped. I couldn't be on autopilot anymore. This was too huge to ignore.
I stopped. And I never started back up again. I made it through midterms, but when it came time to go back to school, I couldn't do it. I made excuses, I kicked and screamed, I cried until I was so exhausted all I could do was sleep all day.
My parents screamed. My mom cried. My dad terrified me on more that one occasion. And still I stayed in bed with a roll of toilet paper, because I'd run out of tissues a long time ago, clutching the blankets, praying to stop feeling like shit, to make them stop yelling, to make everything just go the fuck away.

By the end of January, I'd given myself two choices. Run away and start everything over. Or kill myself.
It wasn't the first time I'd thought of killing myself. It wasn't the first time I'd thought of running away. But it was the first time I'd actually packed bags and made plans. I told my friends, and as one final plea to my mother, wrote her a letter explaining all that I'd been feeling the last two months. I told her my plans. I told her what I was going to do if she kept yelling, if they kept yelling, if they kept ignoring what was happening right in front of them.

My mom saved me. She got help for me. She sat with me, she listened to me, she cried with me.

I turned 15. I got on antidepressants. I had a therapist and a psychiatrist. I started 10th grade and not even a month in, I had a bi-polar episode.
I tried to commit suicide.
I had trazadone to help with insomnia. One night, everything felt like it was falling apart, I felt like nothing would ever be okay again. I made a few cuts on my wrists, took six of the pills and waited for it to set in. As it started to hit me, I realized that was not what I wanted. I did not want to die. I had a mom who cared. I had a friend who, then, would have rather thrown herself in front of a bus than see me like that. I had a cat and a dog who meant everything to me. I couldn't leave them without their mommy. I couldn't leave my mom without a daughter. I couldn't leave the world, when there was so much I'd wanted to do, and could probably still do.
I was lucky to realize this before I downed the rest of the bottle, while I could still turn back.

I spent a week in a mental hospital, under constant observation. I shared a room with someone who had run out of foster homes. I went to groups. I walked around in socks and ate with sporks. I was put on too many medications to keep track of. When I got out, I started on homebound, which is sort of like homeschool.

The next school year, I started at Garza. And up until this past January, everything was fine. I'm old enough to drop out now. And it's something that I've been forced to consider. Not because I don't want to graduate. I fucking do. Everything's been going badly and I've missed so much, they either kick me out, or I drop out before they get the chance to do anything.

I'm typing all this to get it out. To sort it out. Because as shitty as things are looking right now, I'd much rather this, than what I was going through two years ago. There's yelling again. There's cutting again. There's smoking now. But I don't feel that hole of intense depression deep in the center of my chest anymore. I don't feel like everything's falling apart and I'll never be okay again. I feel bad, of course, but no where near as horrible as I felt two years ago.

I used to hate myself for not even having enough courage to take the pussy way out. I used to cry myself to sleep because it felt as though I were dying inside.

Things are pretty crappy, but they're actually pretty damn great.
So what if I drop out? I'm not happy, but I'm okay. So what if I never make enough money? I'm alive.
Sometimes I feel like they don't care. But I know, because of the screaming, that they do. Sometimes I feel that whatever I do, or don't do, won't make a difference to anyone. But that doesn't matter, as long as it makes a difference to me.

To get here, I had to push past that hell. I had to deal with the depression. I had to cry myself through that hopeless feeling in my chest. I had to ask for help. I had to go to that hospital. Everything I've been through has made me able to deal with this, which seems like absolutely nothing in comparison.
I had to feel horrible to get to the place where I feel okay. And I'm glad I had enough courage to do that.

give me hugs, give me kisses, give me MONEY!!

Wed, 25 Mar 2009 05:58:14 GMT

It's my birthday, motherfuckers.

17! WOO-HOOOO!!!!!!

So far, I've been sung to by my spanish class, gotten cupcakes, a $25 American Express gift card, and a dragonfly birthday brownie.

Life is good.

good times, good times

Wed, 18 Mar 2009 08:04:06 GMT

Whenever Mongoose and Gwee hang out, there is bound to be madness. Once in a while, we actually remember to document said madness, and from that, you get this:

(keep in mind, all this was said after one too many drinks and while under the influence of more than one substance)

M: *while spreading nutella on a ritz cracker* "I'm making mini pizzas!

G: "See, you can see all the smoke in the air."
M: "I don't see anything. I'm blind. OHMYGOD I thought that was a squirrel!!!!"
G: "Do you see how freakin foggy it is in here? That's from the smoke."
M: "Oh. ...I thought that was dust..."
G: "There's not that much dust in my car! Seeing as we're in here all the time!"

G: "This is bright shit!"

G: "You know what...oh wait, it doesn't stretch."
M: "That's what she said."

G: "Where is my lighter?!" *searches* "Fuck that lighter." *searches more* "No, seriously, fuck that lighter." 30 seconds later "Oh, fuck your ass, where is that lighter?!"

M: "Me too. Actually I'm gonna say 'We too'"
G: "Us too."
M: "But I think 'We too' sounds cooler"
G: "That sounds like some weird like, like it'd be like a Star Trek character" *high-pitched voice* "WEEE TOOO"

G: "Where the fuck did that thing go??"
M: *looks around*
G: "Are you looking up for the thing? Like, what the hell?? It's NOT gonna be up there!"
G: "...Awww, I loved that little bitchy lighter!"

G: "I'm having pains in my nether regions!"
M: "Mmm-mmm"
G: *laughs* "That's not a good thing."
M: *laughs* "No"
G: "Pain is not what I'm after right now." *laughs*
M: *laughs*

*ten minutes spent taking pictures of cigarette smoke and a flashlight*

M: "That looks like you have magic fingers."
G: "Or like I just put like, a spell on somebody, with all the smoke."

G: "It's so smoky in here. That's all I can smell. I don't think I have any hair in my nose at all. They've all been singed."
M: "Yeah, mine too...that's okay."
G: "No, that's a good thing."
M: "That's what I'm saying it's okay."
G: "Unless you think about it in terms of, you're breathing that in, there goes your lungs, but, obviously we don't care about that." *exhales smoke*

*few minutes spent debating St. Patrick's Day*

G: *with the brightest flashlight known to man right in front of us* "Okay, I think my eyes just like, completely ignored the light for a second, or for a minute, cuz I swear like a second ago it was completely black in here."

M: *reaches directly in front of us* "There's your lighter."

M: "Take it to an 11!"

G: "When did you close this, when that leaf fell in my cleavage?"
M: "Yeah."
G: *opens sunroof* "Oh cuz it--AHHHH!"
G: "...Oh, nevermind it's the thing."
M: "What?"
G: "It's the rubber from around the thing."

M: *spreading nutella on ritz* "You want a sammich? Or a pizza?"

G: *baby voice* "Sigh-ways!"

M: "What the fuck is on this cracker?!"
M: "You see, what the fuck is that? ...Looks like a bunch of salt..."
G: *tastes it* "Pfft, and I taste it?! It could be anything and I taste it!"
M: "I do that all the time, it's okay."

G: "...You want salt?" *laughs*
M: *laughs*
G: *wipes onto Mongoose's pants*

M: *messes with cupholders* *cupholders make metallic sound*
G: "What are you doing? What's making that noise?!"
M: *makes metallic noice"
G: "No, but how are you doing that??"
M: *struggles* *makes metallic noise*
G: "AAAAHHHH!"
M: *goes to make noise again*
G: "No, don't do it anymore, it scares me! Stop it!!"
M: 30 seconds later *makes noise*
G: "AHHHHH!"
M: *cackles* "...One more time"
G: "NO! STOP IT!"

and last, but not least:

M: "Ahh, that feels weird! It's in my vagina!"
G: "Please move it before you get too comfortable."

Btw, I'm Gwee, she's Mongoose.

you guys are gonna think i'm crazy

Sun, 15 Mar 2009 04:37:51 GMT

okay so I'm browsing www.fmylife.com and there's those little ads at the top of the page right?
there's one for some type of phone service and my eye immediately goes to this:

it's supposed to be a phone and, I don't know, a receiver or a happy little guy or something. am I the only one who thinks that looks like something....else...?