So, on that note, I won’t put many details.

There’s someone I like,

Someone I wish I liked,

Someone I adore beyond measure,

And someone…I don’t know.

I don’t know anymore. So I’m going to sit and watch meaningless television for a bit more.

I haven’t been writing in awhile. Guess I’ve been caught up with too many things, really…watercoloring, for one thing. I’m pretty happy with my endeavors. Once I’ve finished up my “Artsing” section, you guys’ll be able to see them. Markers and I were plutonic, but there was no real love. [coughs] So now I’m trying watercolors. We’re dating now.

Ugh, dad’s pissed for some reason. Hell if I’d know why.

Iscariot is slow-going but steady. I had this one spurt a few days ago when I pushed out 3 or 4 parts in one day (which was pretty insane, lemme tell you), but that doesn’t seem to be happening any time soon. Having trouble with the ending. At least it’s almost done…

Finals for college are coming up! Pretty fucking scared, to be honest. I really, really don’t like Finals. I don’t think anyone does. And if they do, then they’re insane.

Whew. Been pretty busy these past few days. Shall I enumerate?

• Been taking complete advantage of my free time on my Spring Break and roleplaying at every chance I get. Newest obsession? ValaixNemo. Yes, his name is Nemo. [chuckles] I keep thinking of a clown fish with fangs (he’s a vampire, lol)… Okay. Enough of that. [laughs nervously]
• Of course, I’ve been working on “Iscariot”. At the rate/length it’s been going, it’ll most likely turn into a novella…
• I’ve done 9 SAT Practice Tests so far, including SAT II – Math I practice tests. Ugh. M’so sick of these things. [chucks them]
• And finally, I’ve been helping my dear friend RK (who lives quite close to me; I was so surprised!) set up a rping site of her own. Having lots of fun, so far.

Ah, yeah. That’s about it. It’s more than you think! [shakes fist]

Easter is coming! We’re having a party at my house, as is tradition. I swear, we have parties delegated to certain parts of my extended family. And somehow, now we’re obligated… [sigh]

Obtained Final Cut Express 4 and Warcraft III today for my Macbook. Can’t wait until I get through all the campaigns in Warcraft so I can get to the Night Elf campaign… [yawns] Bleh, so exhausted.

I’m angry, but I don’t know exactly who to be angry at.

Some might say I should be angry at Chels. But I’m not. I’m really, honestly not.

I’m angry at the fact that for the first time in my life my mother gives me complete and total freedom and…I can’t use it.

It SUCKS.

I miss the guys. Zack and Andrew and Charlie. I’d like to think they feel the same way. Charlie gives hugs now instead of just throwing people off. Zack’s awesome as ever and Andrew is still as chivalrous and easy to talk to as I remember. I wanted to do more than just see them. I’m selfish and I wanted to spend all the time I could for that one night. I wanted to hog their attention, make them look at me for one night and no one else.

I don’t see them often. It shouldn’t have been too much to ask.

I practically sold my soul for this night.

I want it back.

We took 10 minutes explaining to her that we had to leave at 12 (because of the half-day) and the other 20 was looking at grades. Best. Spanish class. EVER.

Thinking about the Academy’s Senior Year prank and how epic it will be (get three chickens/ducks/cats/dogs/some sort of small animal that runs around and name them 1, 2, & 4 and watch everyone scramble around looking for #3… [giggles]) while waiting for Chels to get here so we can head off to her play. As the title says, I’m so PSYCHED– it’s pretty much a last hurrah for me before I sink into the pile of shame and monotony that my Spring Break will most likely be comprised of. And SAT practice. Can’t forget the goddamned SAT practice.

Hoping that we’ll all be headed for CSD afterwards, since it’ll be about 11, to grab something to eat. I have yet to be at one of these infamous CSD meetings and I’m praying that everyone’s in the mood for that tonight. Collie will be coming to the play, so double hurrah! I’m heading over there early to help them set up and stuff.

I can’t wait.

I really can’t. I haven’t gone out in ages.

Oh, oh, and The Fountainhead is an amazing book! I promise I’ll write something comprehensive and awesome gushing about how great it is.

Depending on how tired I am, I might post a follow-up post thing at midnight or something…

It’s a Poly-Sci-U.S.-History-English-Book-Review-paper mirror of DOOM. I know what you’re thinking. DON’T YOU DARE CONTRADICT ME. I KNOW WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT. //fumes//

Well, at least it’s done. I finished about…5 minutes ago? 7 minutes? No clue. I’m actually not all that tired, but I think I’ll go to bed in a minute anyway. I’m pretty proud of myself; got a lot of things done, and not just school-wise: I managed to catch up to all of the posts that I couldn’t get to at Praesto, and fixed up a whole new schedules plus grades and stuff for the Hopeful Melody class. I also actually understand the current chapter in Chem…which is pretty fucking amazing if I do say so myself. Either it’s really easy or I really do get it.

I’m hoping it’s the latter, if only to preserve my self-esteem in that class… //sigh//

Well, heading off to bed. I’ma be at a play (PRIDE & PREJUDICE, woohoo) until 11:30-ish tomorrow, at night of course, and otherwise enjoying my half-day. Besides Spanish class. But we’d all rather ignore its existence anyway.

Toodles~

Or, more accurately, I hate it when other people stay invisible on a chat system. Like, how do you know if they’re on? Then they get all pissy at you when you don’t IM them first…lovely, innit? And what if they’re the ones you’re trying to avoid? Then you get all paranoid and shit and turn into a twitching ball of nervousness that might have a heart attack (might being the keyword). Ugh.

Speaking of which: espresso is good. Or, at least, Irish Mochas are. When they’re made right. I had a really horrible tasting cafe mocha this afternoon that a drank for the sole purpose of keeping me awake during Chem– which it failed to do anyway. It was bitter, and I couldn’t taste the chocolate for the life of me. The only thing well-made was the foam and…well. Let’s just say that steamed, frothy milk can’t really be eaten. And besides. Mochas are made with whipped cream on top. Duh.

I know that and I hate coffee.

On the other hand, I was invisible today for a number of reasons.

1. I wanted to finish writing more of Prelude, a short love story novella that’ll let out my inner romantic before I suffocate her completely…just for a short time, mind you, then it’s back in the closet.
2. I felt like focusing on roleplaying today. Can’t really tell you why– I just kinda did.

I’ve got lots of things to do in the next two days, now that I think of it.

I’ve got a Poly-Sci-U.S.-History-English book review due Friday, and I want to submit pictures and an article about the Induction Ceremony to Phi Theta Kappa for extra points. Not to mention the thesis abstract that my English teacher wants… //sighs// Going to school early tomorrow because Pre-Calc has been temporarily moved to 8 in the morning at the college. Math so early in the morning? I predict academic suicide.

My friend is working on the book cover for The Treason of War (see My Works: Writings)! I’m so ecstatic about it! Can’t wait for it to finish so that I can start selling, or at least playing around with it on Lulu.com.

Bleh. Well, I’m tired. Gonna go to bed. ‘nite.

I went to my Phi Theta Kappa (Alpha Epsilon Pi branch) Honor Society Induction Ceremony yesterday night…I thought that I was joining a damn cult or something; we were waving candles in the air and repeating words. It was kinda weird.

I never thought that there would be a day when I would be happy to walk around in heels; the chairs were so uncomfortable that it was a relief when they finally called out damn names to go up. The pre-induction ceremony reminded me WAY too much of the Opening & Closing ceremonies of Skills USA that I participated in for 2 years running, which wasn’t fun. The memories are pretty painful. Both kind of explain the meanings and connotations of different parts of an emblem (PTK vs. SkillsUSA)…

“The hands…represent the individual.” Haha. Inside joke.

Anyway, I really wanted to stay for the college party in the cafeteria afterwards, but I couldn’t. Probably going to see Watchman tomorrow with a group of friends or something.

I GOT ACCEPTED INTO THE KENYON YOUNG WRITERS PROGRAM, BABY.

Most of my initial excitement has already dissipated, but I’m still hyped up as ever. I really flipped over it though. It was really nice to see my mom interested in it, too. Two weeks of creative writing boot camp…is it just me, or does that sound like Heaven to you? I think it’s just me. But do you think I fucking care? //giggles maniacally// 

I’m putting up this as an update on a piece that some of my friends are looking forward to:

…………………………

There ain’t no reason things are this way

It’s how they always been and they intend to stay

I can’t explain why we live this way –

We do it  e v e r y d a y.

…………………………

When I was little, I used to think I could fly.

I’m sure at some time in our lives, we all believed we could. Tinker Bell and pixie dust and all that — dust a little and the sparkles would get stuck on the carpet like a salt-sprinkled tan sky for years to come. We all believed that one day we’d grow wings and leave;; run away from wherever we were at, whatever our troubles were. Whatever would torture us.

Our faults.

Our demons.

I sure did. Sometimes, I still do.

I’d take two pieces of printer paper and cut them into uneven, feathery wings, lining them with glitter glue along the edges (youknow,thatshimmeringstuffthatyoualwayshadsomeofbutwereneverallowedtotouch.) Even with my atelomanic disposition and anti-perfectionist habits I would believe that those paper wings were the most beautiful things, hell-wrought on proving their worth to the angels. I’m telling you –

 – those wings were really something else.

Break out the masking tape, wrap it around. Get them to stay on like your life depended on it. Who cared if it stung like a hornet’s nest when you took it off?

Anything to get away.

Anything.

…………………………

Preachers on the podium speaking of saints,

Prophets on the sidewalk begging for change;;

Old ladies laughing from the fire escape, cursing my name…

I got a basket full of  l e m o n s, and they all taste the same –

A window and a pigeon with a broken wing;;

You can spend you whole life working for something,

Just to have it taken away.

…………………………

My brother and I used to fight a lot. Sometimes, we still do.

“Hurry up, Cal. You said you wanted to come so hurry up, or I’ll leave you behind.”

“Why do you have to be so mean?”

He ruffles her auburn hair;;  the bright, crisp, vivid colors of autumn bloom in his mind. So beautiful –

– she was really something else.

“Because you’re my little sister, and I have to toughen you up. Twit.”

He didn’t like the man I married;; never did, and he told me flat out. And when I showed him my paper wings, piled skyward with hopes and dreams and things, he told me that I had too many inane ideas in that mindless, incoherent head of mine that sang a songless tune. He had always been the protective sorts and would scold me like a father does to a son who broke just broke a window with a remarkable baseball-bat swing — except I’m not a son, and my brother isn’t proud of me. At least, I can’t remember a time.

“Stupid. You’re so stupid.”

Her body trembles like a clichéd leaf in the wind, like the leaves that would always affix themselves to her silken auburn hair in the fall, beneath his fingers as he ever-so-carefully rips the masking tape from her skin. Furious red lines pave their way through creamy off-white.

“I’m sorry.”
“Must’ve gotten your irrationality from mom.”

“I’ma tell mom you said that!”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because of this.”

I can’t remember a time when the clocks all stood still (Y2Kdidn’tcount,no)

I can’t remember a time when Hell froze over, reaching its icy fingers to stroke my cheeks during sleepless, senseless nights

I can’t remember when he laughed simply to make buttered sunshine rain. He just wasn’t like that.

His hand jerks back;; she expects to hear a crack of a whip but all she hears is her p i t i f u l scream as the masking tape tears away from her with its own outcry.

“SHEN!”

He grins. “Stupid Cal, with your stupid wings. No shut up and let me finish.”

I can’t remember a time when he told me that he loved me.

Then again, my man never did, either.

But my mindless, incoherent head doesn’t want to dwell on that.

…………………………

People walk around pushing back their debts,

Wearing pay checks like necklaces and bracelets,

Talking ’bout nothing, not thinking ’bout death –

Every little h e a r t b e a t, every little b r e a t h.

People walk a tight rope on a razor’s edge,

Carrying their hurt and hatred and weapons;;

It could be a bomb, or a bullet, or a pen,

Or a thought, or a word, or a  s e n t e n c e…

…………………………

Tick, tock.

Another day at work. I’m tempted to break the already fractured silence with a stapler chucked over the cubicles, but decide that pay is worth more than my sanity, which wasn’t worth much in the first place. There’s music painting on the stark white walls in the background, but it’s not the static muzak that lazily floats through the blown speakers up above;; or the whistling of Peter, whose cubicle is next to mine;; or the rap from an iPod turned up too loud down the corridor. No, no:: it was much more interesting than that.

Tick, tock.

Tip tip tippity tap. Tip tap.

Riiiiiiiiing. Riiiiiiiiiiing.

Tick, tock.

Ka-chak.

Shh.

Like music, only not.

“Calla, would you like a promotion?”

She can’t breathe. Someone tied a noose around her lungs when she wasn’t looking, and now she couldn’t breathe. Shivering from the divets of her spine on down.

This was it

This was it

This was finally it.

She always knew that five years at a sucky job like this one, one that couldn’t hold to most employees for a month, would pay off sooner or later. It was only a matter of time. It was all up to time.

“Yes, sir,” she breathes.

She shouldn’t act as desperate as a baby bird out of the nest, she knows, but she can’t help it. She can’t breathe.

“Well, that’s too bad. File these for me, will ya?”

He pushes folders into her waiting arms, ignores her gaping-cavern mouth.

“And don’t forget, the meeting’s at three.”

I feel sick. My fingers frantically tap more notes into the telephone keypad as I unconsciously realize that I don’t remember Brendan’s cell and stop mid-way on a ’5′ key. This has happened before;; no worries. Reach for the seizure-inducing post-it pinned to the wall, set it down in front of me. Breathe in, breathe out. The office music has suddenly been reduced to nothing but the drum my blood plays in the back of my mindless, incoherent head and the drone of the dial tone. I begin to type once more, hoping to add to the melody as every fluid in my body roils with discontent. Lost track — stumble on the ’5′ key, again.

The e n t r o p y of it all was almost too much.

Rickety, wooden fingers that had been holding the receiver to my ear set it back down on the cradle.

Breathe in, breathe out. Don’t panic. It’s going to be okay. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Whatever you do, don’t panic. Try again. Just fucking try again. Breathe in, breathe out. It’s no big deal. What are you worried about? Don’t panic. Don’t you dare panic. Don’t cry;; don’t panic. Breathe in –

…………………………

Prison walls still standing tall –

Some things never change at all.

Keep on building prisons, gonna fill them all;;

Keep building bombs, gonna drop them all…

Working your fingers b a r e to the b o n e;;

Breaking your back, make you sell your soul;;

Like a lung, it’s full of coal, sufficating slow.

…………………………

It wasn’t always like this.

I’m sure that if I went back far enough, it wasn’t always like this.

I’m sure that if I tried to remember, I’d find that it wasn’t always like this.

I’d had a mother, then. And a father. Not just a brother. Not just my wings, and my hopes and dreams and things. I had a family. I had a life. I had a wish that I’d marry a man who loved me;; a man who at least picked up his phone and called me, to make sure I was okay. I was okay, then. I had been okay. Not perfect, but okay. Broken, but okay. I was okay.

I’m sure that if I keep telling myself that, I’ll believe it.

…………………………

The wind blows wild and I may move,

But politicians lie and I am not fooled::

You don’t need no reason or a three piece suit to argue the truth.

The air on my skin and the world under my toes –

Slavery is stitched into the fabric of my clothes –

Chaos and commotion wherever I go;;

Love, I try to follow…

…Love will come set me free, I do believe.

…………………………

I left Brendan a message, but he has yet to call back.

The music on the walls rang hollow… (to be con’t)