Everybody Wants to Change the World

This is in response to a post on "How Do You Solve A Problem Like Marie", a friend of mine's blog.

About choices.

I don't think there are wrong ones.

If you do it, some part of you knew, or felt it was right.

Even though society could say it would be wrong.

And it choices were right or wrong we'd never know because we can't put ourselves in the minds of others, whose choices oppose our own.

And it the consequences came barreling at us, I don't know if it would change a decision.

To me, it would not. If I was to make the choice, I'd make it regardless.

Letting the consequences swarm in so quickly would be similar to instant gratification.

And we've got to much of that in the world already. Why not just let it go and make the choice you need to make?

Why hesitate?

There are choices that, given I was in the situation, I'd do the "wrong" thing, just because I want to.

Because I'm selfish like that.

And I think we've all got a little bit of that in us, that reminds us that our choices are ours alone.

And we've got to decide where to go, when to stop, how to decide.

How to live.

And we don't have freewill for nothing, am I right?

So make those decisions.

Whether they're socially acceptable or not.

If you must take the opportunity,

Take it.

Thanks for the inspiration.

Don't You.

Well.

I'm not sure what to say, as I'm all happy and sad and quite enthused.

Yes, quite.

And while life is still just... there,

I think it gets better with time.

I know it does, actually,

If you work for what you love and you listen to your own self.

There's no use in fretting over everything. Just let it happen, I guess. Get caught up in the flow of things, and don't spazz about how the flow is completely askew. Because wherever it's going, it'll be just fine.

Everything works itself out, all the knots and tangles and horrors. They get combed out and laid straight. And it's a great and wonderful thing, as I see it. We can all die with that comfort. Things get worked out at some point. And while you may day agonizingly, you can rest assured that whatever was bothering you will get ironed out.

And while I know that's not everybody's cup of tea, I think it's mine.

Because sure, you can always say "But things are never perfect!" But combed out and untangled isn't perfect, so I'll rest my case and continue on thinking as I do. Because that's all I can do.

Well, yes, I could do more, but I'll currently just enjoying being here, listening to these cutesy songs and ignoring everything terrible in the world that usually plagues me. I'm... "Chill." Yeah, I believe that's the adjective I was grasping for.

And while I could wish a million things right now to make everything that much better... what would be the point? I'll just try to be all happy and pleased with now. Where I am, right. Now. Yes, in the present moment I'm sitting pretty with a grin plastered on my silly face.

Because just maybe that's all I need. A smiley-happy face. Because the feeling just bleeds right through to my insides and they turn all happy too.

Although my haircut isn't pleasing and I'm at home, I'm thrilled. Something makes me ridiculously happy during these mundane moments. And that's alright by me. So let's just throw a fantastic dance-party and live our lives. However we please. That way might not always be the most moral or safe, but hell, if it makes you happy, by all means, go for it. I'm serious. Happiness is sort of what life is about. Making the best of it and smiling. And dancing.

Because dancing is so lovely.

And I'm feeling quaint and it's great and I'm very excited for tomorrow, what with all the sleeping in and the sunshine and the staying up really late with my nearly insane friends, you can't tell me that's not awesome. It's not possible.

So!

Off I go!

Oh, almost forgot.

I love you.

Stand Up.

I'm a little bit on the edge. But I'm walking away. One little, waddle-y baby-step at a time. Backwards from that cliff that gets me sometimes. I'm jumpy. I'm nervous. I've been on the brink of crying for nearly an hour now. I have nothing to cry about, but I can feel the little salty tears pushing to get free. And I'm so upset, but I'm also kind of happy. But mostly upset. I don't know why. Well, I kind of do, but it's so stupid. I'll ignore it. Because it's threatening to swallow me up. So I'll continue doing whatever presents itself to me. Most likely this will be cleaning. Or baking. The two things I lean to when I'm really upset. I'm just... jittery. It's a horrible feeling. And I feel like I owe my parents way too much. That looming feeling is not comfortable at all. They've done too much for me and I just ask for more. There's no repaying all they've done for me. Or all they haven't done. Because I still can't just talk to them without feeling so stupid... so utterly idiotic. They really bring me back down to the fact that I'm 16. I'm a worthless 16. The supposed "Best Year of Your Life"... bite me. Because being 16 gives one no more freedom than being 15. Or 14. Or 13. Nothing's changed. I'm still a teenager. Still someone adults shrug off due to my two digits. 1. 6. There are, of course, the exceptions to every rule. And I know adults who listen to me and take me seriously and treat me like a human being. That's a highlight. But honestly, I'm degraded day by day. And high school is the most degrading thing they've come up with. I need to get out of here. If I ever get out here... It's like "Band on the Run". (Good song.) But I'm still at the point where Paul's singing about how stuck he is. I'm not yet to awesome adventure-y part of the song. I get there periodically, only to be sucked back down to my own level. The level full of some of the most insightful people I know, but also some of the stupidest, most ignorant too.

And I could do without the ignorance and high-school-ish factor.

Can I be above that? Just age a little bit? So that my seemingly maturity can match my age?

There are other reasons for the aging, but really... who's going to care?

Well, I can't do this anymore, I'm going to clean and play Galaga.. because it makes me happy.

Let's hope this all blows over...

After Hours!

"These doors are always open, no one has the guts to shut us out."

That's what a night with awesome people feels like.

Invincibility.(Even though that guy at Mean Bean definitely could've kicked us out.)

But yes, indeed.

It's like flying,

because you're definitely high on life

And everything's hilarious and you're yelling nonsense and it's so great you wanna cry.

Or barf or whatever, because emotional reactions vary from person to person.

And seriously, nothing matters when you feel that awesome.

Yes, AWESOME.

Because in that moment,

A Choco Taco is the coolest thing you've seen.

And The waning moon is all you need.

Life can be absolutely picture-perfect. (It still needs background music though!)

Of course there's all the wants and stuff,

But they don't matter.

They're forgotten.

Like the fact that you're still weirdly in love with some guy,

Or that you seriously hate high school.

In invincible moments it's gone,

You could care less.

And seriously.

Wow.

It's life.

It's good.

Bad.

And ugly.

But mostly,

It's good.

Now I just need some wicked awesome parental decisions,

A teal streak in mah hairs,

And another peach jellybean.

But forget it,

Because I'm still invincible.

Shrinking Violets.

How can one not be a pessimist?

I'm amused and bemused by those optimists...

How do they do that?

Think all's just peachy-keen... that's crazy...

I am not optimistic.

I am so pessimistic it's probably bad for my health.

So here, I'm going to complain about my hatred of things.

I hate school. A lot. It's just there for mental torture...

I also hate me.

For I have gained weight. (Even the smallish amount that it is.)

I am very unhappy and distraught over that.

Because I am vain.

I want to be thin.

At least less pudgy and ugly, please?

I really hate looking the mirror at myself day after day.

And shouldn't complain, I should do something about it.

But I don't know how. I hate sports.

A lot. So exercise is not pleasant. It's a chore.

I just want to be able to look pretty in cute clothes like other teenage girls.

I feel that weight loss would overall improve me.

A very significant amount, too.

Maybe if I were anorexic things would be easier.

But eating disorders are so horrible.

(And I like food.)

Seriously.

I don't know how to fix this, short of drastic mental conditions or major illness.

Can I just dream it have it happen?

To be a size... a size 8? Oh what I wouldn't give.

To be a size 8. Heck a size twelve.

Anything.

Anything smaller than my clothes now.

I hate how I look.

I hate it.

And I deal with it everyday

.I am insanely, grotesquely pathetic.

But I want to be thin.

Because in today's world, thin is equal to pretty.

And who doesn't strive to be pretty?

To have boys fawning over them?

To be able to buy any dress you'd ever want.

I want to fit into the adorable dresses and things meant only for the pretty ones.

I want to be pretty.

I think there's no easy way to accomplish that.

So maybe I'll just cry instead.

Maybe I'll dream up some more lovely fake scenarios in my brain.

I'll dream of what it's like to be perfect.

You Are My Sunshine.

I'm confused.

Not really, but I suppose it's a feeling similar to confusion.

It's as though my brain was dumped into a blender set to "mash to a pulp". And then somebody pressed the "on" button.

So my cerebral cortex got all jumbled into my hippocampus, and whatever other things happen to be lurking on/in my grey matter.

(Is it weird that I have different spellings of "grey" for different things. "gray" is for more warm-ish, tan-ish hues, while "grey", my personal favorite spelling, is meant for the cool greys, like the sea mist and the sheen of a kettle... it's weird isn't it?)

And so as my jumbled brain was sucking itself back into its appropriate place, I sort of had an epiphany... type thing.

I can't say it was a true Jesus-came-and-hit-me-in-head epiphany, but more like an I've-had-this-thought-before-but-it-didn't-quite-make-sense-at-that-time-and-now-it-does type of epiphany. I hope you can understand.

But yes, you see.

There are different categories of love.

The Sexual Love- the kind of "love" that translates to "I'm horny and you're single". A favorite of teenagers, college guys, and creeps. See also, "Lust".

The Puppy-Dog Love- The adorable and completely innocent "love", but that can turn out to just be a slight affinity for someone or a deep friendship. Very common in small children. Very cute.

The Unrequited Love- The on in love chooses a victim that is either A) unattainable, or B) They're too afraid to say anything. Or C) The victim knows and chooses to completely ignore the loving-one. See also: Obsession.

The True Love- The type that leads to marriage, happiness for an extended time, possibly yielding offspring. The type that creates the adorable old couples in the grocery stores that you can't help but "aww" at. It's somewhat rare in modern American society, so the sight of a truly in-love couple may be off-putting to some.

Those are a few. The first disgusts me. The second is cute. I think I'm stuck in the third one. And who can't help but long for the fourth?

Love is insanely odd, and I couldn't give you a straight definition if I tried for weeks to, it just doesn't happen. But hey, love's here, there, and everywhere so get used to it, I guess? It's a difficult thing to see through. It's impossible to ignore, especially when the lovebird-type make out all of the time. That's always uncomfortable...

But still, love is what it is. And now I'm sick of ranting about it, so onward.

T-minus 8 days until school starts.

Let's not even go there, shall we?

Eh, screw it. We're going there.

The Institution. Prison. Hell.

The disgustingly horrible place of no return full of the Earth's scum and drama all condensed into what, ten periods a day?

Learning seems to be overrated.

And this year can't go that swell. This I know.

For I will be stuck in fifty minutes of Biology Hell.

Fifty minutes of torturous math I'll never need to know in my daily life.

A nutjob teacher or two,

And another fifty minutes of trying (and failing!) not to stare at the teacher.

And Latin.

Latin is not Hell. It's like a small sanctuary in the seven (eight?) hours of homicide I deal with five days a week.

I'm looking forward to that.

And it's not to say I'm not looking forward to first period, but sheesh...

I can't deal with that.

Ok, I'm getting off the crazy train.

Goodnight, adieu, my lovelies.

Silly Love Songs

Well.

It's been interesting. That much I know.

Staying up until 6:30, and running down the middle of the street away from dogs, and laughing about the name "Blanche" and the word "Legumes!" (Both of which are actually hilarious at anytime of day, but even more so in the wee morning hours) And then there's the nonexistent scandals, and the nonexistent marriages. And all the silly love songs. :) And here it is, the end.

It's near,

And it's awful, horribly so.

But I think the last ten ( now nine, really)days can be decently lovely. Not fantaaaastic or anything, but good.

I can't think of much to say. (That's a lie, I can, but I don't want to.)

Ahhhhhh. School soon. Arggghhh. D: