I am seventeen years old. I admit that, when not in a crisis situation, I do not act my age. That does not mean you have the permission or the right, to speak to me as though I am twelve. I try so hard to judge people by their intentions, instead of actions, but eventually I cannot fight the urge to ignore the reason of others. The first time you spoke down to me, it hurt, but the next day I forgot of such. Then it happened again and again. There are but sixteen days left, and yet you make me want to skip them all, to avoid you and everyone else treating me as though I’m inferior to everyone. I already feel in the way, left out and like a perpetual hindrance. I’m not going to hunt your down, so in person I may list my many social faults to you, or my insecurities, to try and make you understand how much you ‘hurt’ me. Nor can I guarantee that, if you do it again, I won’t finally voice my opinion of how you treat me. First, you bitch at my friend as she raged, as though feelings are controllable and something to punish other for. Now, I cannot try and look out for a friend.
Fine. I will sulk, avoid you, and curse like a little twelve year old who has just been to exposed to expletives. If you’re going to treat me like a child, just fuck off.
5/16/11
5/8/11
Instead
I could be writing of the terrible mindset I seem to have put myself in. I could recall the woe of being reject by someone I'm enamoured by, the inability to wear pants with a size smaller than half my age, and the instability found in the rapidly changing moods of my parents. Oh wait, no. I can't. I have found it physically impossible to do such. Instead, for the moment being I feel quite content, happy even. So, now you get to hear about that.
I received acceptance to my first choice school. There is a chance we're "poor enough" to have 2/3 of my tuition covered. I'm going to get to move out, but will always have a home to come back to. I have a really great relationship with my mum. I tell her almost anything, she's like my best friend/secret keeper/chauffeur. It's warm enough to walk home from school, I've been able to fit in an hour of running into my day, and it is officially 'shorts weather' in my world. I'm excited for prom, graduation and parade season. I love using gouges and chisels for art, and have only stabbed one finger (left thumb) twice.
Just when I started to feel as though my friends haven't a single shit to give, a fantastic redhead proves me wrong. She has written on my facebook wall, and did to me in her own blog. I have no clue how to show her how much it means, or let her know how much I appreciate her. But I will, even if I have to draw her and duct tape said drawing to the whiteboard of our lit class. (Everyone knows, only the classiest get their portraits done by artists.)
Now, I am off to look up scholarships, job applications (I've decided I'm saving for a netbook to write with, and a camera lens), more information on my future place of education, and plot how I'm going to show Melissa how glad I am that we are friends.
Sarah
I received acceptance to my first choice school. There is a chance we're "poor enough" to have 2/3 of my tuition covered. I'm going to get to move out, but will always have a home to come back to. I have a really great relationship with my mum. I tell her almost anything, she's like my best friend/secret keeper/chauffeur. It's warm enough to walk home from school, I've been able to fit in an hour of running into my day, and it is officially 'shorts weather' in my world. I'm excited for prom, graduation and parade season. I love using gouges and chisels for art, and have only stabbed one finger (left thumb) twice.
Just when I started to feel as though my friends haven't a single shit to give, a fantastic redhead proves me wrong. She has written on my facebook wall, and did to me in her own blog. I have no clue how to show her how much it means, or let her know how much I appreciate her. But I will, even if I have to draw her and duct tape said drawing to the whiteboard of our lit class. (Everyone knows, only the classiest get their portraits done by artists.)
Now, I am off to look up scholarships, job applications (I've decided I'm saving for a netbook to write with, and a camera lens), more information on my future place of education, and plot how I'm going to show Melissa how glad I am that we are friends.
Sarah
4/22/11
April 22nd, 2011
For some reason unknown to me, my head feels as though my brain is vibrating. Well, not literally vibrating, but it's like I cannot hold onto a thought, or each and everyone lacks the normal stability of the things usually being thought up in my head. Sort of like every bit of me is in slow-mo, but my thoughts are bouncing around in my head, giving off little echoes and disrupting each other.
Now my body itself is starting to join in, but I'm pretty sure that's the self-inflicted movement that occurs to keep myself awake. Not that I'm terribly tired. Well, I am, but I sleep enough. It's just a sort of metal/physical exhaustion that is my constant.
What was the point of this? I could have sworn I had something to say. I don't know. The only thing I've written has been verbal, quite odd and most definitely unusable, unless I can decide on a different orifice or method of implantation. Really, with my luck it will just turn into a really old "Buffy The Vampire Slayer" episode. Oh well. Honestly, you'd think the brain-crack would cease or something. And yet, still bouncing in my seat, unable to cling to one thought. Oh well.
Sarah
Now my body itself is starting to join in, but I'm pretty sure that's the self-inflicted movement that occurs to keep myself awake. Not that I'm terribly tired. Well, I am, but I sleep enough. It's just a sort of metal/physical exhaustion that is my constant.
What was the point of this? I could have sworn I had something to say. I don't know. The only thing I've written has been verbal, quite odd and most definitely unusable, unless I can decide on a different orifice or method of implantation. Really, with my luck it will just turn into a really old "Buffy The Vampire Slayer" episode. Oh well. Honestly, you'd think the brain-crack would cease or something. And yet, still bouncing in my seat, unable to cling to one thought. Oh well.
Sarah
4/19/11
Journal Excerpt
I admit it, I am a terrible influence.
My poisoned thoughts invade those inhabiting the minds of others.
They change with the wind,
but there is never a decrease in their potency,
never a decrease in how loathsome they are toward myself and others.
No one is safe from the cerebral run-off,
more toxic than an oil spill or nuclear waste.
The most kind-hearted can't escape unscathed,
even monsoons of melancholy cannot aid in ending the drought.
My heart is as dry and brittle as ever,
and I fear such shall never change.
My poisoned thoughts invade those inhabiting the minds of others.
They change with the wind,
but there is never a decrease in their potency,
never a decrease in how loathsome they are toward myself and others.
No one is safe from the cerebral run-off,
more toxic than an oil spill or nuclear waste.
The most kind-hearted can't escape unscathed,
even monsoons of melancholy cannot aid in ending the drought.
My heart is as dry and brittle as ever,
and I fear such shall never change.
4/18/11
April 18th, 2011
Busy weekends leave me drained, no matter how fantastic they are. They also make you feel shit after, because you're alone and dull again, with the same chant stuck in your head.
Sarah.
Sarey, Sarey, Quite contrary, Always feels alone,I'm hoping if I sleep for a week, maybe I can write something "better".
She wants to cry, and I can't lie, sometimes wants to leave home.
Sarah.
4/10/11
April 10th, 2011
After the wake, I wrote the required words, resulting from my first encounter with death as someone older than five. I have written in my hidden journal, full of angry words toward myself. There is the useless plotting, of things to write 'some day.' If only that day really existed, somewhere other than the realm of imagination. Feeling full of things useless and cumbersome, and empty of things the that matter, leads to minimal productivity. As does censoring myself, to get into college, avoid trouble, and the scrutiny of others.
Sarah
Sarah
3/10/11
March 10th, 2011
So, I haven't been writing much, nor have I blogged here (obviously), but I feel like I came up with a real good, solid idea to work with. For once, I have a beginning and an end. Or, at least the outline of such. It makes me happy. I don't even remember what I was writing about.
Sarah
Sarah
2/24/11
February 24th, 2011
I didn't write today. I started something yesterday, but if it will actually go anywhere is doubtful. Instead I felt ill, of course on a day off, and slept. And, after my mum (jokingly) suggested I look into Harvard, I found myself looking into a local university. I've just about missed deadlines for the fall 2011 semester, but the Spring 2012 semester is promising. So, I've emailed the school. Now, I just have fear-of-no-future-idis. Oops.
Sarah
Yeah. Freaking over college, it's an incredibly crappy way to spend your February break.Never have I felt so ill while doing so little.One incorrect answer can ruin it all,One mark too low and the letter is full of rejection.The nausea sets in before the page loads,each form weighs a thousand pounds,every second is closer than the previous to failure.The underachieving and minimal effort are catching up to me,all I can do now is work hard and hope, no,pray, that I can get in.At this point, I'll take most any school that will have me.
Sarah
2/23/11
February 23rd, 2011
I was trying to re-write the zombie Apocalypse. Instead, we got the thoughts of a self-conscious teenage girl. How does that work?.... It probably has something to do with my online dress browsing, for prom and for pleasure.
Yeah. Don't ask.
Sarah
"I'm being ridiculous," she muttered to herself, skirting around a mob of elderly mall goers. It was 11 in the afternoon, and instead of wandering around, Molly should have been in school. Somehow, she thought this would be easier than going to school, with less beautiful girls and more fun things to look at. In reality, it just meant she had mannequins and small sized clothes to fixate on, instead of skinny girls and their skinny body parts.
The money in her pocket seemed to feel heavy as she passed the froyo stand. Her stomach wambled, but she was on her way out, and on a mission. Stopping for a treat never did anything good for her. It led to her grabbing her brown hair, and pulling it in all different directions, as she sobbed over her inability to purge the vial substances. No, for once she was going to be strong, and take her money elsewhere. To the land of celery and tea, splenda and diet soda.
Using her fingers, she silently counted the hours and minutes since the last time she had eaten."Three hours and forty-two minutes," she told herself, pushing through the door and heading toward the parking lot.
Yeah. Don't ask.
Sarah
2/21/11
AP Literature Class
Instead of going on an on about how ridiculous I feel when attempting to craft fiction in a successful manner, I figured I could talk about my Lit class. A few of my friends aren't the hugest fans of said class, due to the teacher mostly, but I think it's one of my favourite classes that I've taken since 9th grade. I find our teacher quite delightful, he's not incredibly judgmental, and seems pretty "go with the flow," which I enjoy. Plus, he doesn't mind that I sit in class, drawing and/or painting, 90% of the time.
I won't lie, if it weren't for the class, I doubt I would be reading as much as I have been. I sort of forgot how much I liked reading things in plain English, verses Elizabethan. Plus, some of the novels, poems and stories we've read have been fantastic. There is really only one book I found irritating, but that was due to the way the narration was written (due to the time period, location of the characters, race, etc).
For the first time, I've actually felt like participating in class too, which is quite out of character for me. I'm not afraid that Luc is going to mock me for seeing something differently, because he doesn't care. If you don't see what he does, he says his opinion of your opinion and breezes past. My only problem is that quite often I think something, and before I raise my hand, it comes out of another students mouth. I find it entertaining, he talks and then I try to talk, for participation and because for once I feel for the character/setting/situation, but end up babbling and making no sense. I would try and convince him to talk less, but I doubt I would say much anyway, for I still have this underlying fear of being terribly off base. I'd rather hear a boy I've known since elementary school add to the conversation, and not partake, then something not get added to the conversation.
We just finished our discussion on naturalism, which spawned from our reading "To Build a Fire" and Ethan Frome. If you would like to feel odd, sit in a class discussing the characters, relate to them and how they act, and listen to your classmates complain of them being weak & pathetic (Ethan), vicious & vindictive (Zenna) or completely useless (Mattie.) Oh, and The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, too. The jumbled thoughts that barely seem to connect, that's abnormal as well, even though you've experienced them. That's the one downside to the class, really. Sometimes, when we talk of characters who feel trapped by their surroundings, or people who seemed caged in by their own thoughts, the fear of the reaction that action brings, I have a tendency to leave the classroom slightly dazed, stumbling around more introspective and attentive to the inhabitants of the hallways. I'm amused by the fact that I'm part of the small number of girls who would date Mr. Prufrock, if he were to exist. Why wouldn't a girl want to date a guy who could understood her thought process more than others could?
Currently, we're reading "The Stranger," and already I see where the character is coming from, and I'm only 16 pages in. So much of the narration reminds me of how I think, or thought, when dad is illness is worse than usual. The only read differences are that my parents are still alive, and after thinking of something I want, I feel guilty for not putting dad first. This may not make any sense, but in my head it is completely coherent.
In other news, 237 words were written today. I only liked one of them, exponential. I only liked it because it entertained me at the moment I wrote it. No longer does it fill me with any sort of thrill or whimsy.
Keep Calm & Write On,
Sarah
I won't lie, if it weren't for the class, I doubt I would be reading as much as I have been. I sort of forgot how much I liked reading things in plain English, verses Elizabethan. Plus, some of the novels, poems and stories we've read have been fantastic. There is really only one book I found irritating, but that was due to the way the narration was written (due to the time period, location of the characters, race, etc).
For the first time, I've actually felt like participating in class too, which is quite out of character for me. I'm not afraid that Luc is going to mock me for seeing something differently, because he doesn't care. If you don't see what he does, he says his opinion of your opinion and breezes past. My only problem is that quite often I think something, and before I raise my hand, it comes out of another students mouth. I find it entertaining, he talks and then I try to talk, for participation and because for once I feel for the character/setting/situation, but end up babbling and making no sense. I would try and convince him to talk less, but I doubt I would say much anyway, for I still have this underlying fear of being terribly off base. I'd rather hear a boy I've known since elementary school add to the conversation, and not partake, then something not get added to the conversation.
We just finished our discussion on naturalism, which spawned from our reading "To Build a Fire" and Ethan Frome. If you would like to feel odd, sit in a class discussing the characters, relate to them and how they act, and listen to your classmates complain of them being weak & pathetic (Ethan), vicious & vindictive (Zenna) or completely useless (Mattie.) Oh, and The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, too. The jumbled thoughts that barely seem to connect, that's abnormal as well, even though you've experienced them. That's the one downside to the class, really. Sometimes, when we talk of characters who feel trapped by their surroundings, or people who seemed caged in by their own thoughts, the fear of the reaction that action brings, I have a tendency to leave the classroom slightly dazed, stumbling around more introspective and attentive to the inhabitants of the hallways. I'm amused by the fact that I'm part of the small number of girls who would date Mr. Prufrock, if he were to exist. Why wouldn't a girl want to date a guy who could understood her thought process more than others could?
Currently, we're reading "The Stranger," and already I see where the character is coming from, and I'm only 16 pages in. So much of the narration reminds me of how I think, or thought, when dad is illness is worse than usual. The only read differences are that my parents are still alive, and after thinking of something I want, I feel guilty for not putting dad first. This may not make any sense, but in my head it is completely coherent.
In other news, 237 words were written today. I only liked one of them, exponential. I only liked it because it entertained me at the moment I wrote it. No longer does it fill me with any sort of thrill or whimsy.
Keep Calm & Write On,
Sarah
2/18/11
February 18th, 2011
It's difficult to find time for writing, when you're always doing things for others, or in a mass of paranoia. Oh, and don't get me started about being a paranoid mass that's trying to do things for others. I am now unable to focus on too much, am exhausted and have thoughts more scrambled & unorganized than those of Prufrock. I just want to hibernate for a while, and see if that helps. I want to be less paranoid.
Sarah
Sarah
1/31/11
January 31st, 2011
The month is come to a close, as has the thought of me pursuing my goal since primary school. I feel as though my life is a mess, and for some reason just have one question: if I were to write of angsty teens, would anyone want to read it? ....Well, I've thought a lot about art projects too. Yay, coping mechanisms.
Oh, next month is FAWM. February Album Writing Month. 15 songs in a month, and I'm participating. You may get to see some lyrics if I get time and focus to post them.
Oh, another random thought, if I'm posting less than usual in the next few weeks, my parents have locked me up for being a rubbish student.
I'll stop rambling on, since I've no clue what I'm really saying.
FML,
Sarah
Oh, next month is FAWM. February Album Writing Month. 15 songs in a month, and I'm participating. You may get to see some lyrics if I get time and focus to post them.
Oh, another random thought, if I'm posting less than usual in the next few weeks, my parents have locked me up for being a rubbish student.
I'll stop rambling on, since I've no clue what I'm really saying.
FML,
Sarah
1/28/11
January 28th, 2011
Focus has never been my strong suit. Now, I have a book to read for lit, and many new comic books to dive into. I only got about 300 words down today. I can't help it. It's hard to focus when you wear retainers for the first time in months. It makes your teeth hurt.
Sarah
Sarah
1/25/11
January 25th, 2011
It's been a while since writing has caused me to feel this, elated. I've been sitting here for only half an hour, my legs crossed in my chair and ears pounding with upbeat music via headphones. Due to the music, I keep stopping and switching song, but I feel oddly productive. 400 words in 30 minutes isn't the greatest, but I actually like what I have so far. A moment ago, I stopped to dance the Secretariat Dance (like Craig Ferguson when the horse, Secretariat, shows up on the Late Late Show) for a minute and a half. My parents are both asleep, so I've no problem looking like a fool. Maybe that's it, I need to be alone to really "Work it... and the noggin."
So, I'm gonna dance to Daft Punk, and write some more.
Sarah
So, I'm gonna dance to Daft Punk, and write some more.
Sarah
1/24/11
January 24th, 2011
I used to hate starting over. I would feel like I'm giving up, and dread not finishing yet another drawing, project or story line.
NOW, I just insert a page break and keep the 1.5K words I've pounded out, and re-start. I'll borrow from the first words, stealing lines or phrases. Hell, I may even steal large chunks of paragraphs. All I know is, I now have 20 words, and 1500 chunks from the first attempt at a beginning. And I'm alright with that.
I lost my voice, so I hope you could understand this post. I sound like a squeaky sea lion.
Sarah
NOW, I just insert a page break and keep the 1.5K words I've pounded out, and re-start. I'll borrow from the first words, stealing lines or phrases. Hell, I may even steal large chunks of paragraphs. All I know is, I now have 20 words, and 1500 chunks from the first attempt at a beginning. And I'm alright with that.
I lost my voice, so I hope you could understand this post. I sound like a squeaky sea lion.
Sarah
1/21/11
January 21st, 2011
Do you know that feeling, when your throat feels like it's swelling up and you can't say a word? You're so embarrassed that your body is trying to tell you to shut the hell up.
Or, if you're me, you've some shite cold/flu/bug-thing and shouldn't be in school.
So, writing looks grim, as does doing anything else. Unless you can get me what he's having, cause I cba to even try and find something else to make me feel better.
Really, I need to find the US Skins to see how much it pales in comparison to the UK version and go to bed.
Night,
Sarah
Or, if you're me, you've some shite cold/flu/bug-thing and shouldn't be in school.
So, writing looks grim, as does doing anything else. Unless you can get me what he's having, cause I cba to even try and find something else to make me feel better.
Really, I need to find the US Skins to see how much it pales in comparison to the UK version and go to bed.
Night,
Sarah
1/19/11
January 19th, 2011
Woo, writing everyday, for three days in a row. I'm going to ride this as long as I can, for I've no clue how long my motivation will last.
First, I wrote100 words about a random dog and her litter of puppies, in Kentucky. It's supposed to end up being a sort story sort of thing. I mean, it began for a reason, but I'm terrible at getting what I think out, without a deadline or pressure. Oops. Now I'm about 300 more words into the main project I'm working on. It's dull, terribly terribly dull. Shoot me.
Sarah
First, I wrote100 words about a random dog and her litter of puppies, in Kentucky. It's supposed to end up being a sort story sort of thing. I mean, it began for a reason, but I'm terrible at getting what I think out, without a deadline or pressure. Oops. Now I'm about 300 more words into the main project I'm working on. It's dull, terribly terribly dull. Shoot me.
Sarah
1/18/11
January 18th, 2011
Today I planned, plotting ideas and writing them down in my little paper companion.
I'm much less angry, though not really. I've just done a hell of a job repressing it. It will bite me in the arse later.
I wrote today as well, around 400-500 words. I want to write every day, so I'll take it.
Now, I'm going to have a secret love affair with a rainbow coloured lollypop larger than my face, and go to bed.
Feelings, eaten. Words, written. Thoughts, ignored. = New Mantra?.... naaaha
Sarah
I'm much less angry, though not really. I've just done a hell of a job repressing it. It will bite me in the arse later.
I wrote today as well, around 400-500 words. I want to write every day, so I'll take it.
Now, I'm going to have a secret love affair with a rainbow coloured lollypop larger than my face, and go to bed.
Feelings, eaten. Words, written. Thoughts, ignored. = New Mantra?.... naaaha
Sarah
1/17/11
January 17th, 2011
Last night, 550 words found themselves in a word document.
Today, not a single one, due to complications with family.
I would write, but I am currently engulfed with so much anger, that I'm fighting to keep it in.
Shite.
Sarah
Today, not a single one, due to complications with family.
I would write, but I am currently engulfed with so much anger, that I'm fighting to keep it in.
Shite.
Sarah
1/16/11
January 16th, 2011
24 ounces of V8 V-fusion Light Peach Mango Juice, Check.
Writing Mix on grooveshark, Check.
Scratch Pad, Check.
Let the writing Commence.
Sarah
Writing Mix on grooveshark, Check.
Scratch Pad, Check.
Let the writing Commence.
Sarah
1/15/11
January 15th, 2011
What have I realized? Every prompt I've thought up has been a dystopian sort of black hole. Sure, there is nothing wrong with that and it's a nice change from "hooray! happily ever after," but it's still hard to not over-exaggerate. There is a fine line between how much the world sucks and how harsh a place it can be, and a terrible teen-angst driven exaggeration.
It would probably help if I wasn't in the terrible mindset that I currently inhabit. I've been taking most everything personally, as I'm paranoid and walking on eggshells around most people. You add the assumption that everyone is irritated by me and/or something I've done or said, and it's a terrible land of headcase-y spazz-ness... and made up words.
I've also found that I am almost never in the environment that allows me to spew words like I have been in the past. Tis a shame, but I'll live. I must, life goes on.
Sarah
Also, to kill time I was wandering around blogconfession and had the misfortune of letting stupid posts bring me down. I suggest not doing the same. Especially # 6859.
It would probably help if I wasn't in the terrible mindset that I currently inhabit. I've been taking most everything personally, as I'm paranoid and walking on eggshells around most people. You add the assumption that everyone is irritated by me and/or something I've done or said, and it's a terrible land of headcase-y spazz-ness... and made up words.
I've also found that I am almost never in the environment that allows me to spew words like I have been in the past. Tis a shame, but I'll live. I must, life goes on.
Sarah
Also, to kill time I was wandering around blogconfession and had the misfortune of letting stupid posts bring me down. I suggest not doing the same. Especially # 6859.
1/12/11
January 12th, 2011
I finished the monologue I was commissioned to write, and it feels good to have completed something.
A few moments ago, I had a realization. If I've a cookie cutter sort of idea for a story/novella/piece, nothing bad will happen if I write it. Maybe it will turn into something fun, or maybe I'll end up learning more about writing. It is practice, which is what I need. Plus, one less thing in the way to any really fantastic ideas I may have in the future.
Sarah
A few moments ago, I had a realization. If I've a cookie cutter sort of idea for a story/novella/piece, nothing bad will happen if I write it. Maybe it will turn into something fun, or maybe I'll end up learning more about writing. It is practice, which is what I need. Plus, one less thing in the way to any really fantastic ideas I may have in the future.
Sarah
1/8/11
January 8th, 2011
I've finished writing what I owe.
Fixation.
T'isn't healthy.
It's destructive as hell,
so let's distract ourself by focusing on it.
Not this half hearted shite,
but completely and obsessively.
Until there is nothing left to focus on.
Fixation.
T'isn't healthy.
It's destructive as hell,
so let's distract ourself by focusing on it.
Not this half hearted shite,
but completely and obsessively.
Until there is nothing left to focus on.
1/3/11
January 3rd, 2011
The year has begun. I've been hired to write someone a script on fiverr.com, which I am working on now. I've pushed out a bit of poetry, and keep re-writing and crossing out the prose I've scratched upon my paper. It's not my day. Trust me.
Sarah
Conflict
The conflicting emotions
will eventually push you
Over the Edge,
Past the breaking Point.
Tell them,
Don't tell them,
They will understand.
No, they won't.
You want the pain & confusion,
it's just hard to admit.
At the same time you fight it,
trying to expel it from your mind.
Not that it ever works.
You're messed up,
And not about to quit.
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