| IMPORTANT |
[Oct. 2nd, 2006|03:59 pm] |
Hello everyone. I have a new livejournal. If you actually read this and want to continue being my friend you need to post a reply to this entry. otherwise, i wont add you. Sorry, but i just feel like no one reads anyway, so if you actually do, then i will add you. okay, have a good day.
Comments will be screened, so say whatever you want!!!
hannah |
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| just nothing. |
[Sep. 28th, 2006|04:07 pm] |
Today I am supposed to be working on my resume, which is almost finished, and take it to places. So far, i have looked on craigslist and this place, hotel congress is hiring front desk staff, and in the cafe there they are hiring a busser. Also, the place across the street Dowtown Bistro or soemthing is hiring for PM hostess, and there is also a catering company. this other place is hiring for servers but its kinda far away. I'd rather have a nanny job, but that hasn't really worked out yet. maybe i should make an ad? i dont know.
So I've been going to Yoga everyday. Yesterday was Vinyasa with Joe, who kissed every girl that came to his class, and the day before I went to Hatha Flow. They were both pretty good. Vinyasa was harder, but more repetitive, but a better meditation, and Flow was a little more diverse, but seemed longer, maybe a little boring. Today is Vinyasa with a different teacher at 5:30.
Ben and I went to the market today. he spent 100 bucks. we got a lot of good food, though. it was a little expensive. we had to bike there and it kinda took a while, i felt like my nose was going to start bleeding because the air is so dry.
I'm listening to the Rushmore soundtrack. i knew i would like living with ben because it is so easy-going. we get along really well, and laugh. I do the dishes like 3 times a day, but thats okay. I also folded his clothes. Last night i made dinner: stir fry with tofu. it was good. we had it with buckwheat noodles instead of rice, and it was good.
my face has cleared up alot, i dont think its looked this good in years, since i was 8 or something. it must be the climate. In the middle of October I will be in Austin, and the drive back here. it will be good to have a car, so we can go to target... and then also i could get a job that was farther away, but that would kinda suck, so maybe not unless it was really good.
ok well thats enough nonsense for now. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 17th, 2006|01:21 pm] |
i joked with ben that i only dated whiteskinnydorkymusicpricks. HAHA
I have bangs now. everyone i've encountered doesn't seem to like them much, except me and casron.
we want to go on a trip to get out of this town, but we don't know where to stay.
maybe we'll just find some things we want to do and sleep in my car. |
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| Found Dream written down in random journal |
[Jan. 12th, 2006|01:59 pm] |
There was a boy who didn't have some wrist device that everyone else did. He was an outcast, except that boy was me and when i reluctantly entered that room - everyone stood in a circle - it was Mike who was yelling "Get out! I hate you!" over and over again. Patrick was standing near me, between myself and mike, and he said nothing, standing quietly by, unaffected. Mike was in a blue shirt, and later after Patrick's mom let us out of the room, after I had just stood there, my face most likely cherry red, looking down shamefully, I turned into a boy and was locked out of the classroom - there were bars but also regular doors.
Mike in blue turned into a tiny little blonde haired boy in blue, and we were throwing butter knives at each other, and he kept screaming at me that he hated me. I was really mad because he kept doing this and i didnt know why, until finally i came towards him, towards the bars that seperated us, and he held his arms out to me, crying. He couldnt have been more than 8 years old, and i came to him, grabbed him and pulled him through the bars, we were embracing and spinning around. The nurse who was taking care of the children was furious and started throwing the little boy in blue against the bars, and then i saw this as if he was a rag doll- or some other child play thing - like playmobil.
Then there werent bars anymore, but i stood still against a stone wall, unmoving, and it was like at the brick oven, but on a long straight street with which i was intimately familiar, and couldve only been John's street.
It had evidently been a long time that i had been in seclusion, for they were sending out teams to explore and see where i was. I was only two feet away from the dor, standing stomach-to-wall, almost afraid to move, such was my fear and misery. The team they sent were a bunch of girls in bright green fleece pullovers, and the one in front was fat and acted brave, though when she saw me standing only a foot away from her, she started screaming as if i were a monster.
The other girls, screaming also, ran back inside and closed the door, so that the fat girl was left outside with me, running in circles, panicked, until she found she could open the door right next to the one they had come out of. Right before she scrambled inside I said "I'm not going to hurt you," but she either didn't hear or didn't care.
I had on a red fleece jacket. They finally let me inside. I sat at a table by myself, and realized that being around people was no better thatn being seperated by them, which caused me to despair even more than before. I moved to a large round table and I sat with an old man.
He had his jounal out on the table, and we were reading it. I gathered that he was the grown up version of the boy in the red fleece- who i had been. In his diary, written almost illegibly, he had written about his trip on the train and how he had fallen asleep for the whole thing because they medicine "they" had given him had very strong sedatives in it. Even though he was free, the center he had been in as a boy still made him take medicine, and for some reason he was back there; he was even a doctor.
We progressed with his diary, and he told me that whenever he read the next part it made him cry. He had written about a dream he had - the best dream he had ever had:
"i dreamed once about a four inch tall boy who was rather skinny, with blonde hair who did karate." He said he was writing a book or memoir, and he asked if the old man should be alone on the train or not. I said no very adamantly, for i didnt want the old man to be alone anymore. He calmed me down and said that he would change it, he said, "In fact - it had never been any other way." |
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| carson time |
[Dec. 29th, 2005|07:08 pm] |
At Dobie and in the car |
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| colors |
[Dec. 29th, 2005|07:00 pm] |
taken by Carson in my room |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 20th, 2005|01:20 am] |
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Maybe sometimes its just good to feel mopey and listen to Between the Bars by Elliott Smith over and over. But probably not. (not that its not a good song, mind you) |
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| nothing crafted or preconceived |
[Dec. 18th, 2005|10:56 pm] |
so, I've definitely been in a funk. My parents issue (see last post) and roommate issue and college issue I think were/are taking a toll on me.
I talked to my parents, told them when I got back we were going to go to therapy, and that finally got my dad thinking that something was, in fact, wrong. I said, "Dad, you don't accept me" and instead of like before when he said, "yes, i do," he said "well, okay, maybe I don't." And though we didn't really get to get into it because my mom stole the phone and told me to sleep before my finals (its 11 pm), it was good for him to at least start the process of realizing the subconcious motives he was operating on. I still want to go to therapy, though. I think it would be good for all of us to get everything out into the open, and would open lines of communication.
Things with Vicky are getting better, but we had sort of a major fight last night, and hadn't been treating each other very well for the past week or so. I want to treat her well, but its hard when I'm just so comfortable with her, and just ask for one little thing, and she'll make me feel bad about it, and then it all spirals downhill from there. Then, I just don't even care, and do things just to mess with her. We sort of change between her being more motherly and me goofing around, to me thinking shes pretty immature. I guess it just depends, I mean, I like having fun and goofing around sometimes, but when it comes to relationship stuff or other important things I guess I have a pretty short tolerance for immaturity.
I read in Elle (had to go to cvs to get cash back for the bus, and spent my hard earned money on a magazine, allllrighhhht) about this woman who did this crazy boot-campish 10 week exercise thing, and I've gotten really into it... in my mind.... hah. When i go back home I might get a membership or something at the Y so I can keep working out. I have a really good time while I'm there, and it makes me feel good afterwards. Also, thank god I won't have to go to TDR anymore, or the Tavern. It will be good to eat regular REAL food again, and be able to make it myself so that I can make healthy things. So, I guess I have high hopes for all that.
I still don't know whether or not I'll be at UTSA next semester. I haven't gotten in yet. I should know at the latest by january first, but its just sort of frustrating not knowing what you'll be doing or where you'll be for the next few months of your life. If I don't get in, I will have to make the most of it. I could travel for a while, maybe go to China and do some volunteer thing I've always wanted to do, or just work and work really hard on applications for next year. I feel like even though I started looking at colleges and just starting the whole process in like ninth grade, i somehow messed up. I feel like I'm starting over with the whole thing. But that can be good, too. If I'm getting a fresh start I can look at some different places and do things better than i did for. Like... apply for lots of scholarships. That way, I could go to a good school and not make my parents pay too much. I really just want to go to a good school that I really like.
Things are really good with Jack. Every time I talk to him it gets better and better. I'm really happy about that.
That was uncannily long. Sorry, but it was really good to get it all out. Hey, I hope everyone's allright. And Happy Holidays or something...
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| spend everyday of my life dancing with strangers |
[Dec. 16th, 2005|01:30 am] |
seen from above
places lost from time
come back to me,
slowly,
but easily if you let them.
Memory lies
at the intersection
of 6th and lamar
at the gardens outside my window,
far below.
Maybe I've never actually walked there
drived there.
sat there.
Dont go there.
Venture to new places.
It doesn't matter where, go to
the place where the scenes
in your mind become
waking dreams.
I have no illusions. Ok, i totally do, haha. but none about shitty writing. I'd be the first to say so.
Hey, I just want to be happy again. Hey, I don't want to talk until I am. Hey, its okay, just give me a little time.
Maybe all it'll take is to come home, though i doubt it. Home is where the hell is.
Home is where dad locks me in my room every night from two a.m. until seven a.m. Home is where mom punishes me for her sins.
Christmas is when we sit, pretend pleasure, feign togetherness, fake family.
Christmas is when we assume roles that don't match our age.
Family is me keeping it together.
Dad is probably the leader; he can handle it after he smokes pot.
Mom complains about the linens, not nice enough? 'how could she be so crass?'
Grandpa sits, farts (he's not that old), and prefers to be served. i don't think he actually knows anything.
Sally is oblivous, eating out of the salad bowl with her fingers.
David is breathing loudly and sitting, smug, talking politics with an heir of importance.
Margaret (choosing not to come) is stumbling around attempting to not burn everything or get too drunk.
I wish she would sit down and shut up.
Home is a prison, we don't let anyone else in. Who is uninvited? anyone who is not family. Family, the web of lies, of inadequacies. Fuck it. I know its dramatic, its my own downfall, its everything that i can't change but would give anything to be able to.
The holidays are for family, lets get together, fuck it, lets go to the trail of lights, fuck presents, i could really give a shit. Lets get together, lets get together, lets not pretend that we're happy. I can be, but you aren't. You drag me down, fuck it.
Let us get together, let us celebrate: presents. I present to you, one token of my dissatissfaction. that is for our 'family' but also: 'childhood.' Let us plot. We can't let things get out of hand. Let's see: what can i create with my actions? Nothing good, thats for sure.
Lets determine the bank account number in which to deposit the money. Let's go (together) to the car lot. Let's get a car. Let us determine our future together.
GIve me money.Give me a car.Give me a future
without you. but if you want to be in my life: let me be, and let me do what I'm going to do, with or without your help. I can take certain things in stride, but you have to too.
Let's have christmas - together - and ill sit, ill smile, and ill pretend to enjoy giving and receiving presents. God, just love me. Even if i don't want to stay there, even if you can't handle me having sex. Even if I hate our holidays because they're just not good enough. I want to tell you things, want to share with you my life's goals and mistakes: it's all on you. |
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| on the bright side, good riddance. |
[Dec. 8th, 2005|08:26 pm] |
It comes in waves, and then there I am, suddenly, a thousand (two?) miles away, with guilt burning on my cheeks. Or maybe its just 30 degrees outside.
Well here's what I have to say to you ( I think we can all guess here, come on):
What I did was wrong, yes,
I should have called you, should've said something,
shouldn't have given you hope,
should've told you to move on ( a long time ago),
and most importantly, I should've moved on sooner than two months ago.
but you.... you shouldn't have treated me like a piece of shit for 3 years. I guess its as simple as that.
I bet you erased my number, defriended me on facebook, blocked me on AIM (so mature) thinking you could erase my memory...
you can't, just as I can't forget you: what you meant to me, the good times, the bad times, and what happened between us (and what didn't) .
I'll probably feel guilty for a long time, but thank god you won't be in my life anymore. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 23rd, 2005|09:14 pm] |
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interacting with people is too hard. |
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| when am i not honest? |
[Oct. 17th, 2005|09:48 pm] |
Its nine thirty here, I have felt dead all day.
no friends, no enemies here. only people
i have yet to meet but probably never will.
There is a Luby's on I35 and Oltorf
that I went to when I was a kid.
I never went with my grandma,
but its the place I think of when I think of her;
Its probably because when I was there
I felt like I was two steps away from dead.
We couldnt have talked, the air sucked our breath dry,
and the neon stilled our minds:
Death in Lubys seems like it'd be peaceful.
I havent laughed like that in so long.
If you could hear me speak you would probably like me now.
whenever i write in this thing I feel like I'm in front of a very hostile crowd.
No one likes me on here, and even those that do, well, i guess I've alienated them
but really I guess I think that it should be bringing us closer together -
yes, us, meaning the people that read this, Im not being abstract.
Don't you like me just a little? Or maybe couldn't you just stand me?
(if nothing else)
Im being honest, when am i not honest? when am i not myself? when am i not myself? when am i not myself? |
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| child wren |
[Oct. 16th, 2005|01:37 am] |
I was little.
I collected leaves, grass, and flowers
from the backyard.
I put them in a plastic bag
years later I found it
in my dad's tool closet.
The bag contained my childhood;
I opened it, I opened the treasure.
and the next day
I found the plants dead
after being kept alive
for years in a Ziploc bag.
I must have thrown it out,
disgusted that I had ruined
my treasure. But how
were the leaves still green?
The air had lasted.
It was the same air
that i breathed when i was five.
The damage had been done,
and there was no bringing
the leaves back to life;
that air deserves to be dead. |
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| chopstixxx |
[Oct. 4th, 2005|09:23 pm] |
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looking through my pictures makes me miss carson and even hannah, and going to sushi, and our crazy fabric/book/crafty escapades, and english, and having class with madison and carson, and how mad and i sat in the back and never paid attention, and we were actually somewhat of friends again. i was thinking about how weird it probably was for her that i was best friends with carson, but really i talked more with her, and how i just want to hug her and tell her im sorry. and we had such good times. we did such weird random things. like having picnicked, and playing sports, and running around in parks at night. i guess that is what we all did. we didnt really ever have anything to do. who did, really? |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 27th, 2005|01:47 am] |
I have a life here, now, evidently.
There's no getting around it.
I have to go my own way.
I guess I might find someone at some point;
I will marry them.
Isn't it weird that that is actually something that could happen?
That these things happen to people like you and me?
(In real life I can't tell you these things,
because then you would assume that i wanted to marry you.
Who's to say i don't, really,
though that would be ludicrous.) |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 20th, 2005|04:10 pm] |
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Maybe if i end every sentence with a question mark i won't ever have to say anything? |
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