Thursday, February 5, 2009
"Please, Don't Recycle."
No matter the store I walk into this time of the year everything is decorated with pinks, reds, whites and confetti hearts. It is February and Valentine’s day is close upon us, nine days away in fact. Most people love this holiday and are overcome with joy when it shows itself to us once a year, but not me. The DJ’s on the radio go overboard with mooshy love songs and they retell stories of lost or present lovers, and wish out good cheer to all the other love birds out there. Most people accept his wish of good cheer, but not me. And what is this all for? Why do confetti hearts and warm bright colors engulf the month of February? Love. Love is the reason for it; it is the reason for all the foolishness and calamity that takes place during this second month of every new year.
I would like to have someone to love around this time, and it seems that any other month in the year I in fact do have a special someone. But once Valentine’s day creeps closer and the days on my calendar slowly diminish to the single digits, something terrible happens. This blog is going to express my rage and sorrowful emotion because I know I can’t express it any other way without ripping my hair out. I met this boy spontaneously, and instantly we became the best of friends. Of course when something like this happens it seems magical, and although I was very happy that I had met this person I was also wary and afraid of being hurt… But with the displays of his fondness, and his honesty; my wariness began to fade and I didn’t have the slightest worry or anxiety about our situation. And , so, like an idiot I allowed myself to be overcome with emotion and my mind with an overpowering sense of affection and well being. However like every other good thing, there is a consequence or a small chance of the good thing becoming bad.
Its peculiar that every time something absolutely amazing happens to me something equally evil and horrible happens and throws the good feelings out of whack and leaves me with my chest ripped open and my heart beating within it; so fragile and vulnerable to any sort of attack that could be thrown at it and rip its soft tissue to ribbons. Of course maybe I am overreacting, and now that I’m reflecting on what I’ve just typed it does seem a little odd that I’m reacting this way. Because usually relationships happen with me, and if they end I am slightly sorrowful but I maintain a dignified composer. I poured my heart and soul into this little kid, and my expectations for him were high. But now I doubt I can ever see him again (even as a friend) without bursting into humiliating tears; And its like a cycle, once my story reaches its climax it plummets down to tragic end just to begin the cycle again.
I would like to have someone to love around this time, and it seems that any other month in the year I in fact do have a special someone. But once Valentine’s day creeps closer and the days on my calendar slowly diminish to the single digits, something terrible happens. This blog is going to express my rage and sorrowful emotion because I know I can’t express it any other way without ripping my hair out. I met this boy spontaneously, and instantly we became the best of friends. Of course when something like this happens it seems magical, and although I was very happy that I had met this person I was also wary and afraid of being hurt… But with the displays of his fondness, and his honesty; my wariness began to fade and I didn’t have the slightest worry or anxiety about our situation. And , so, like an idiot I allowed myself to be overcome with emotion and my mind with an overpowering sense of affection and well being. However like every other good thing, there is a consequence or a small chance of the good thing becoming bad.
Its peculiar that every time something absolutely amazing happens to me something equally evil and horrible happens and throws the good feelings out of whack and leaves me with my chest ripped open and my heart beating within it; so fragile and vulnerable to any sort of attack that could be thrown at it and rip its soft tissue to ribbons. Of course maybe I am overreacting, and now that I’m reflecting on what I’ve just typed it does seem a little odd that I’m reacting this way. Because usually relationships happen with me, and if they end I am slightly sorrowful but I maintain a dignified composer. I poured my heart and soul into this little kid, and my expectations for him were high. But now I doubt I can ever see him again (even as a friend) without bursting into humiliating tears; And its like a cycle, once my story reaches its climax it plummets down to tragic end just to begin the cycle again.
--Cloud Envy.
8:04 AM
1 commented
8:04 AM
1 commented
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Scene Kid
With a quirked brow and a gaped jaw you watch as I make my way down the hall. A tight lipped smile and a great air of self satisfaction adorning my facial features; all the while my bleached blonde hair not moving an inch because of the liquid cement I use to style it. Of course I’d give you a brief insignificant glance as I walk by, and from that moment you’ll be stricken with the conclusion: we’re from two different worlds. Teenagers are constantly worrying about how other people see them, and what they think of them. They mold themselves to be what society wants them to be, or how they want others to see them, and of course this is also true of me-- to an extent. Appearance, toys, and the invisible link that connects us is going to be the theme of this thrashing.
My eyes consist of a green and yellow substance; by matter of personal opinion they are absolutely gorgeous, but of course it’s a personal opinion. I shroud the lids of these jade observers with a very thick coat of black eyeliner. The Egyptians used coal as eyeliner way back when to protect their eyes from the sun; it was used as a natural sunglass, however, I think the thickness and darkness of the eyeliner makes my eyes stand out because the enveloped brighter hue of my eye and my tufts of ‘big’ hair that surround it creates a beautiful focal point. I bleach my hair to such an extent that I make albinos shamed that they can’t rock white hair as well as I do. Besides the extreme tone of my hair I also fashion it to (what some would call) an excessive extent. Every morning I straighten it twice, tease it upright, and apply lethal clouds of hairspray; by the time I am finished it looks like the crown of a giant willow tree. Some people would feel like a clown looking like this, so how do I do it? The answer is simple: I feel handsome striding beside people, with loud obnoxious hair and makeup with pretty music playing in my ear.
Pretty music as defined by me is: anything and everything that flows down my ear hole that can capture (and hold) my attention all the while nourishing my imagination and creativity. Genre’s (or in some cases things) that do this are: techno, rock, classical, screamo, folk, metal, alternative, trance, reggae, audio books, my phones vibration, Sulvestor Stalone, and heart beats. I have in my possession an Ipod Classic, 120 Gb. It holds 30,000 songs or 150 hours of video, of course I have half of that memory already used up. I have my Ipod on me or by my side every second of every day, and so do most teenagers however I don’t listen to my Ipod to block out the sound around me or to give me something to do; but instead I listen to it so it’ll give a beat and kind of “soundtrack” to my life. Besides my Ipod I usually have my cellular device in hand. This keeps me constantly in touch with my friends and family, and although it’s on my person at all times it doesn’t get as much attention as the Ipod does, it isn’t used so much for texting but rather it is an LG Shine, and I use its shiny surface as a mirror to fix my big hair and smudged raccoon makeup. Hair, Makeup, Phone, Ipod, the most basic qualities of your average teenager, right? Wrong.
Although my ego is as colossal as my hair I am not rude. I am very kind to everyone about me until they do something wrong, and then I secretly condemn them to the deepest pits of hell ( of course within my psyche). Since I am a teenager I have experienced almost every emotion, scenario, and thought a teenager can think about: Relationships, appearance, academic success, future, car, maturity… Blahh, however, I’ve been through and felt these things starting from a very young age (as mentioned before in previous blogs) and so I find what most teenagers would be catastrophic events to be daily and natural occurrences. I am more adult than I should be, but inside more silly and childlike than I should be, and on the outside more rebellious and tacky than I should be. But who sets the bar for these “should bes?” Society, the general public, and your peers based on the majority and prime stereotype in an area.
Why should everyone be the same? Why should we have to live up to an idea of future that was thought up for us, and pressed upon us as we grow up? I think that we should not and I deliberately refuse to. My personality, and appearance publicly display my rejection of the common belief that we should all be unoriginal in order to be ‘normal’. Why talk the talk when you can swim against the tide and fly the walk? To all of those boys and girls that are afraid to be made fun of, or singled out because their different and themselves: I’m a billboard, advertising your aging confidence, self-destruction and sagging self-esteem.
My eyes consist of a green and yellow substance; by matter of personal opinion they are absolutely gorgeous, but of course it’s a personal opinion. I shroud the lids of these jade observers with a very thick coat of black eyeliner. The Egyptians used coal as eyeliner way back when to protect their eyes from the sun; it was used as a natural sunglass, however, I think the thickness and darkness of the eyeliner makes my eyes stand out because the enveloped brighter hue of my eye and my tufts of ‘big’ hair that surround it creates a beautiful focal point. I bleach my hair to such an extent that I make albinos shamed that they can’t rock white hair as well as I do. Besides the extreme tone of my hair I also fashion it to (what some would call) an excessive extent. Every morning I straighten it twice, tease it upright, and apply lethal clouds of hairspray; by the time I am finished it looks like the crown of a giant willow tree. Some people would feel like a clown looking like this, so how do I do it? The answer is simple: I feel handsome striding beside people, with loud obnoxious hair and makeup with pretty music playing in my ear.
Pretty music as defined by me is: anything and everything that flows down my ear hole that can capture (and hold) my attention all the while nourishing my imagination and creativity. Genre’s (or in some cases things) that do this are: techno, rock, classical, screamo, folk, metal, alternative, trance, reggae, audio books, my phones vibration, Sulvestor Stalone, and heart beats. I have in my possession an Ipod Classic, 120 Gb. It holds 30,000 songs or 150 hours of video, of course I have half of that memory already used up. I have my Ipod on me or by my side every second of every day, and so do most teenagers however I don’t listen to my Ipod to block out the sound around me or to give me something to do; but instead I listen to it so it’ll give a beat and kind of “soundtrack” to my life. Besides my Ipod I usually have my cellular device in hand. This keeps me constantly in touch with my friends and family, and although it’s on my person at all times it doesn’t get as much attention as the Ipod does, it isn’t used so much for texting but rather it is an LG Shine, and I use its shiny surface as a mirror to fix my big hair and smudged raccoon makeup. Hair, Makeup, Phone, Ipod, the most basic qualities of your average teenager, right? Wrong.
Although my ego is as colossal as my hair I am not rude. I am very kind to everyone about me until they do something wrong, and then I secretly condemn them to the deepest pits of hell ( of course within my psyche). Since I am a teenager I have experienced almost every emotion, scenario, and thought a teenager can think about: Relationships, appearance, academic success, future, car, maturity… Blahh, however, I’ve been through and felt these things starting from a very young age (as mentioned before in previous blogs) and so I find what most teenagers would be catastrophic events to be daily and natural occurrences. I am more adult than I should be, but inside more silly and childlike than I should be, and on the outside more rebellious and tacky than I should be. But who sets the bar for these “should bes?” Society, the general public, and your peers based on the majority and prime stereotype in an area.
Why should everyone be the same? Why should we have to live up to an idea of future that was thought up for us, and pressed upon us as we grow up? I think that we should not and I deliberately refuse to. My personality, and appearance publicly display my rejection of the common belief that we should all be unoriginal in order to be ‘normal’. Why talk the talk when you can swim against the tide and fly the walk? To all of those boys and girls that are afraid to be made fun of, or singled out because their different and themselves: I’m a billboard, advertising your aging confidence, self-destruction and sagging self-esteem.
--Cloud Envy.
9:44 AM
0 commented
9:44 AM
0 commented