"Powerless"

We were alone. We were lost and naïve and dying. We were the Power Rangers. Physical death, an end to our bodies, never imposed itself as an object of fear. With the reckless abandon of youth, we consistently subjected ourselves to close proximity with that specter of doom. We were just children, desperate to become a perfect embodiment of everything beautiful and safe in the world. Teenagers, selected by some alien force we did not understand to protect our fragile world from the evils of intergalactic imperialism, eager with youthful idealism to become forces of good and the stainless heroes of childhoods lost. And yet, slowly, everything we strove so diligently to protect and sanctify began to negate our existence. We allowed ourselves to become ideas. We ceased to exist as humans, fallible and capable of fear.
With stupid, naïve trust we removed the duty of protecting and caring for our lives from the incompetent hands of our parents, and into the cold technology we did not understand. It was a kind of magic to us, the science. The machines were devoid of the emotional failures of our parents, mothers and fathers, families, and things dreamed of suffered from. Our “families” had abandoned us in a startling reality. Selling our childhoods for their own safety, they betrayed us to a scathing world and bound us to protect it. Despite their brilliant logic and ceaseless calculations, the machines eventually exposed their fallibility. Thus was our twisted fall into adulthood. Everything will break, heart and body included. Our resentment was understandable, even reasonable.
Extravagant villains plagued Angel Grove like locusts, a common occurrence and ordinary experience for us Power Rangers. Ivan Ooze, a vile creature from an ancient past formed from foul primeval filth, was unlike the thoughtless antagonists of previous encounters. The machines guarded the interests of innocent citizens against “bad guys,“ such as these, before the welfare of their own existence. Zordon was the seemingly infinite being whose wisdom and obligations controlled our destiny. The first time we fought the minions of Ivan Ooze was at the direction of Zordon. He told us to leave him, to go out into the city, and protect its inhabitants. In our absence, Ooze himself entered our command center, and the source of our powers. Ravaging the wires and circuit like some demented flood, he destroyed not only the life support of our powers, but of Zordon. Instantly, the suits, weapons, and abilities granted us by alien intervention vanished.
The brave commander had died. The “brave commander” had orphaned us, powerless against the evils of the world. It was “a calculated risk.” If his machines calculated the worth of citizen’s lives against our own, we would obey as child slaves incapable of free will. Billy, the stereotypically nerd, once recited to us, “When a man cannot choose, he ceases to be a man.” He had realized before all of us that we had no control in the decisions of our life. Whether to laugh, cry, reject our responsibilities, or fall hopelessly, madly in love had not been our choice. Zordon had managed every aspect of our developing adolescence. Zordon, omnipotent, infallible Zordon had failed to protect himself, and doing so, failed to protect us. Yet somehow, paradoxically, the responsibilities that had forced us to abandon our childhoods and assume the role of hero, a title we believed only adults could hold, had prevented us from ever really “growing up.” The “Power Rangers” were infallible. We were not, but the blinding perfection of childhood ideals masked our faults. Zordon’s power had protected us from physical harm, and protected us from making mistakes. Upon his death, we floundered in the magnificent void of freedom.

Madly in Like

It's not a fake stalker crush anymore. He makes me feel squishy and warm inside and his unique humor forces me to be witty again. I don't know what I expect to gain, except that I know I want to hold his hand. He called me from Hawaii every day to endless laughter and easy chatting.

In English class, a great number of our conversations become personal "confessions" that would otherwise never come up. Listening to Dave's stories, though I love and admire his dispassionate logic (jealous to no end), my life is touched with the brilliant and devastating fire of emotion. Our days of eternal summer and glorious autumn will remain bittersweet memories of perfect, innocent romance, but they are the last of anything between us. I can love him and his life without wanting to be near it. It is sweet release.

Recent Texts Worthy of Much Remembering

You know, I think I'll take you up on the cookie baking extravaganza sometime :D
-Jimmy

[picture] Doesn't matter! iWin!
-Matt

I know, It's so exciting to find a functional family that likes each other when yours isn't like that o_O you and molly are a cute friend couple lol
-Jeff, on my super duper Valentine's

Dude. you rob and jimmy are all fucking awesome. like, seriously.
-Jeff

Hahaha okay. Thanks. He was a wrestler, he wrestled with heroin and a shotgun and he didnt win
-Steve

I hope you dont get smited Chloe.
-Steve

Now your just giving Jesus ideas. He could kill two birds with one lightning bolt, or a flood or a drunk guy in an SUV
-Steve, on the observance that my smiting would serve example to any of my communist conspirators

A homeless (and assumedly gay) man just tried to pick me up. God bless this state!
-Jimmy

He mostly ogled me and asked me 'How much for that ass.' pretty straghtforward.
-Jimmy, when asked, "What pick up methods did he use?"

I'm madly in like with Jimmy.
-me

PostSecret

I hope whoever got this appreciated it more than anything else in the world.

[edit] Why this should be mine:

1. I don't want the love to have vanished.
2. The last time he told me he loved me in person he said, "I love you so much."
3. While breaking up with me, his exact words were, "I felt like it was going to end and I don't want you to be a 'fuck and chuck.'"
4. It's perfect for my situation.

AWESOME

QUAKE

Written by James Avestruz

Starring
Chloe Glynn
and
Rob Holtzinger

FTW!!!!

Filming, final day

Jimmy's final product has to be sent out today and the post office closes in 7 minutes. I hope he makes it. I got to Jimmy's around 12:20 and he was still in the shower. His mom and I talked for a few minutes, when he finally came down. If he wins the scholarship Mrs. A will take us all out for dinner. He showed me the edited product from yesterday's adventure, which was a tiny bit hilarious on several accounts. In the original film, Rob played the protagonist, but then he was busy and Eric P. replaced him. Then Eric quit and Rob was in again. However, by that time, Jimmy had already shot Rob in two others scenes that seriously force the audience to question whether or not he has a twin and/or can teleport. Music is absolutely beyond melodramatic, and some of the scenes are goofy beyond expression. Also, the ending is a total cop out due to lack of CGI magic. However, though I could never be an actress, I enjoyed it a lot. Rob came up, we watched again, realized a few more holes in continuity, but whatever. The light effects on the slow motion running scenes look brilliant, even if slow-mo is a tad unnecessary.

The only scene we had to film in the house was a phone call and experiencing the earthquake. After taking minutes generating random names on the census bureau, one came up already with the first name "Rosie" so we stole the last name, "Davila" and programmed it into Rob's phone so caller ID would show up. Jimmy left Fouraker's tripod at school, thinking we'd have to come back today, as well as his better tripod. Using his crappy one that threatened to fall off his kitchen table and smash through a glass door, he shot Rob's phone vibrating on his wooden table. CONTINUITY ERROR!

After mild revision, my phone call wakes up Ben, but he fell asleep on the couch, not near the kitchen table, so we had to reshoot it with the phone standing up so the caller ID would show up. Then comes the issue that in the script he says he's already had Pop Tarts for breakfast, but I just woke him up. Jimmy wanted to conveniently and inexplicably place the package of Pop Tarts upright on the little table where Ben fell sleep. That doesn't make any reasonable sense in the least. The solution was to place an opened pack of Pop Tarts next to the couch for him to find and devour. Yay! But on the topic of placing completely unnecessary objects on that little side table, Jimmy went to go find a book, or something that would suggest Ben is getting ready for school. "I've got to have some kind of learning book around here..." Jimmy mumbled wandering off. "Learning book?! What the hell is a learning book?! What a stupid dick I am!" The idea was abandoned. Scene finished.

Oh no, I have to experience the earthquake and look like an idiot. In my scene, I call Ben, while making tea, and then fall over and freak out. It was sometime during this scene that Alexa decided to come down and make Hot Pockets for a few minutes. Following that, I have some wonderful visual humor, and upon flinging myself onto the floor, drop my phone. Now, my phone suffers from spontaneous battery ejection, and thought continuing a conversation with a busted phone wouldn't look so great. Mr. Shiller had some old phones he gave to Jimmy, which were in far worse a state than mine, i.e. "flipping the phone open would result in having two halves of a phone." For no particular reason, Rob decided that the earthquake had struck him too, so he fell over and began sliding around the linoleum floor until he hit carpet. Eventually, we got the scene finished.

Rob gave me a ride home, and managed to open a can of coke with his teeth while driving. Although he may eventually lose his teeth, it was an impressive display of skillful maneuvering and I told him so. It was a very pleasant day of filming and I hope Jimmy wins.

Filming, 2/12/09

I have spent three years in this damned building and still cannot conceive of where classrooms are hidden. Jimmy told me to meet him in B202. That room is Mrs. McGraw's room, and the upstairs computer lab. And lucky for me, Rob and Alexa found me vaguely wandering the 1st floor B-wing, not entirely close to the stairs. Having had 2 bottles of water since 3rd lunch, I had to go to the bathroom. However, after 2:40 or so, every single bathroom in the entire school is under lock and key. However, however, teachers have keys and Jimmy's got connections.

The first shot, Jimmy did an outside vertical building shot of Rob and I peeking out a window and discussing the possibility of jumping out said window. My character complains that it's 20 feet and is not jumping out a window. Rob's wants to build a rope ladder. Filming adjustments required that we repeat the scene 3 times or so. During what should have been the final one, Mrs. McGraw realized what we were talking about and instructed us that we were not allowed to jump out of the window. Much hilariosity ensued, and we repeated the scene after relating the story and apologizing to Jimmy. Shooting the final scene, at the same point, she repeated with more emphasis that we were definitely not allowed to jump out of a window. Jimmy laughed and said we were good enough.

After arriving inside, Mrs. McGraw told us that some day two years ago, the Great Francis Tracy oversaw a class where, while raining, a student lept from the very window we were filming at and ran home. The scene had to be done from approximately 6 inside angles which went fairly well.

Next came super awesome hallway rejoicing scene! The characters, Ben and Rose, have some sort of unexpressed relationship. Earlier in the script, in a scene which has yet to be shot, Rose calls Ben and begins to say, "Ben, listen... I-" but is cut short. The tone of that sentence is probably the most important clue to their relationship. Did she want to break up? Is she saying "I love you" for the first time? Is it, "want to go to Panera's after school?" It's should be said how Jimmy wants, but he "has no idea" and it's vague enough that I had no idea where the characters were in their relationship, though it is positive. After "the catastrophe" happens at school, they run out of their respective locations to find the school empty, but each other "to much rejoicing," as written in script. Asking Jimmy how much "rejoicing" should take place, and demonstrating an Anchorman "freeze frame, legs tucked jump," he reiterated he had no idea.
"Like, a hug? An awkward hug?" I asked, "High five?"
"Strip down and have sex?" Rob suggested.
"Don't you even not know each other?" Jimmy asked, inquiring of Rob and I.
"Well, yeah, but the characters do." Was my astute observation.
"You two are awful. Just make it up. No stripping."
A regular hug was decided upon, and much rejoicing occurred. Much rejoicing also occurred when Rob found the most excellent, "Party Locker."

The characters, Ben and Rose, were in separate places when the event happened. Ben was in the guy's room, washing up, tripping, and ripping a paper towel. I was not needed during this scene, and decided to practice my "shake, rumble, trip" scenario for the next scene in the empty hallway. The German teacher came out while I was seemingly throwing myself at the ground in a locker bay completely devoid of people. *sigh* She left, then I resumed. Then a janitor came out. I stopped and sat down to wait. They almost used all of the paper in the towel dispenser.

Now my solo scene during the rumble. There is a copy machine in the teacher's lounge upstairs, which is what I was doing while separated. The Pepsi machine does not have real Pepsi in it. There is a gallon of Dutch Chocolate ice cream in the fridge growing hair, and a gallon of Vanilla we did not investigate. Their closet will close, but lock on itself. Experimental data was thought of to verify the warning's claim, but decided against. Jimmy left the shot list in the bathroom during Rob's scene. So to "copy stuff," I used a random paper lying around with Markie, my brother's ex girlfriend,'s name on it. I looked awful crawling around, pretending there was an earthquake, but I did get to eat a powdered donut in the teacher's lounge.

During the Guitar Hero 3 Tournament on Friday, Jimmy filmed Steve and Susan leaving the building in the wooden room with the "Not Creative Enough" mural, which is actually, in fact, a girl, and not a guy. The sun was perfect, and it wound up being a beautiful shot of sunlight streaming onto the reflective tile floors and silhouetting their forms. Wanting to capture that light effect again, Jimmy decided that Rob and I would epically exit the building during sunset, with the sun falling about us and casting shadows across the hall. It was during this time, Rob found another unlocked locker, this time, oddly enough, Markie's. Interrupted by Twilight School kids, it didn't seriously delay our epic running scenes.

Today was really fucking windy. The "last" scene occurs outside, after we have escaped the building. During "the epic running scenes," Rob and I would go to the double doors and push them open, to have gusts of wind scatter incredible quantities of dust everywhere. That wind didn't stop, but gives dramatic effect to our ecstatic, thankful running from the school. Having to film the last scene outside, Jimmy and Rob went outside, and I was supposed to follow, but had been behind a bit. Luckily, before exiting the building, I realized the doors would be locked if we attempted to return. A rock was procured for door propping services. Leaving, a joyous embrace occurs between Ben and Rose. Rob smells nice and I miss hugs.

Filming out of order:
Remember the rope ladder idea from earlier? I will leave it a surprise what we initially use to try to get out. However, the singular scene of me gloating took well over 40 minutes because we consistently became distracted by such distant conversations as "My mom ruined Titanic for me," which set up an Opus and Anthony joke, which was interrupted by Mrs. McGraw asking about who they were, continued into Jimmy berating her for interrupting him, she accusing him of always being mean to her because she never responds angrily, him agreeing, and finishing, his one line, somewhat funny joke. It was now around 6:10 and we had kept Mrs. McGraw and her daughter for far too long.

Rob gave Jimmy and me a ride home. It was a very pleasant, very enjoyable experience, and I told Rob he smells nice. I think Jimmy was indignant.

Notes on the Film:
It's about an earthquake.
Eric P. was originally scripted to play "Ben."
My character's name is Rose.
When I volunteered for this, I assumed I'd be "Girl #2" or something.
Jimmy and Rob are hilarious.
Rob smells nice.
Jimmy might too.
I don't know.
Jimmy didn't get his candy gram.
:(
During filming I met 3 teachers I had previously only known as names.
Mrs. McGraw's daughter told Jimmy she was 6.
Jimmy acknowledged that.
Jimmy does not know anything about kids.
She is 11.

Short Film

I'm gonna be a in a short film produced by Jimmy that Erik P. is in.

I have no idea what it's about, but that's okay.

I'm going to be able to make the donut run of vindication this year at Wildwood.

However, holey Chucks + holey socks + 20 minutes of jogging = blister

My PSSA "best invention of my lifetime" essay was about Stephen T. Colbert's Americone Dream.

In AP US, I told Mr. Layman to remember that the 19th Amendment is women's suffrage because now they're "legal" in all 50 states.

I have the vague feeling he'll think about me when referencing that amendment in the future.

WHO'S STUPID IDEA WAS IT TO HAVE A "NO TAKE BACKS" CLAUSE IN THE CONSTITUTION?!

18th Amendment anyone?!

That surprised me a lot actually. I didn't consider it at all and am a tiny bit jealous.

It was a very enjoyable conversation/afternoon.

Things to get: tea set, perfume, used books of poetry

When I see her, I want to acknowledge her and apologize for not speaking since 9th grade.

There's so much I want to tell her.

I feel like I should apologize?

Even though I did nothing wrong, and didn't realize until later.

It would hurt me too.

People who have been in my thoughts lately: Jimmy, Trisha, Matt, Jeff, Wasiq, Stasi, Automm, Barathi, Viv, Dave, and Wasiq.

It's a group I like thinking about.

Walking

Today I accidentally found Clayton Park and didn't realize how close it is.
I hate fences.
The ground is very moist.
Music is beautiful.
Garnet Valley is beautiful.
It is also rather boring.
Though I hope for someone to walk with, it would be a curse.
I don't really give a damn about it...
My dad and I have been eating alone a lot recently.
I'm wondering how fake this actually is, and why.
For Valentine's Day, I wrote everyone in my Bio class a poem.
It was mostly so I could give Dave one without being obviously insane.
I'm going to ask him to be my friend again, but it doesn't work like that.
Though I did spend time and effort to personally write poems for them.
I told Trisha I got awesome music from you, and Nick said, "Fail."
People are born inherently evil.
I am meeting new people, sorta.
Talking to them, anyway.
Charlotte Sometimes is FANTASTIC.
The Ben Kweller concert is the night of BotB.
I've been devious all week. It's excellent.
I have the best PSSA group ever.
It's Matt, Kira, and I.
The proctor told us to shut up.
Matt made a boat.
In Career Development, our parents had to write us a letter.
Mine made me sad, because my dad doesn't know me.
All of the trees in Clayton are adorned with words.
It seems the most romantic idea in the world.
Trisha+Wasiq4eva

Forgot Nothing but the Feeling

I remember everything. Every date, everything he ever wore, everything he ever said or told me or texted me or sang to me, but I don't remember what it felt like to be in love.

I forgot nothing but the feeling

Today I reread my saved texts. Deleted a few. Still not any of the ones from Dave. They're too beautiful and remind me that he's more than apathetic. He does feel, did feel, and I inspired it. I didn't remember what it felt like to get those messages, but I remembered the words.

In career development we keep talking about goals and future careers. I got the same Myers-Briggs test score as Wasiq, Kevin, and Steve G. They said we had long term goals. I know Was and Kev do, but not me. I want to have a goal, but not a job.

"I switched my fake crush from you to Jimmy on Sunday. My offer to make out with you continues, but not the rest of the sexual harassment."
-Chloe, to Big Was

AIM Prose that Became Poetry

I was going to go in the guy's and graffiti there
but I don't know what yet
not poetry
but close
it's not my poetry, btw
it's famous stuff
but not really
because nobody reads poetry
so it's not really famous



*sigh*
I don't belong in garnet valley
I'll find my place
and then I'll walk out of it into the next



I really like people and it makes me sad sometimes that nice people are sad and I don't understand any of it
I feel so young and naive and I don't know why I walk all the time
but I enjoy it
I shouldn't be up this late
but I was writing a letter
and now I'm crazy
er
I have to go to bed

things I wrote on my hand today

in a dark and confusing world, you burn brightly

if you die in canada, you die IRL

T.H. White's MERLIN

Jimmy Carter was attacked by a giant swimming rabbit

I baked them a cake shaped like the internet

Rationalizing the familiar is easy

male inflatableable sex toy $40

Honor Honour Monty Python promote surreal humor humour

What time is it?
Now.
That's a boring answer.
No it's not.
It's the most interesting answer imaginable.

let the poets cry themselves to sleep

meerkats can play rugby

this graffiti is fleeting human contact
both of us lost
but for a moment, lost together
I wonder who you are*

*coming soon to a bathroom stall near you

Perspective

This weekend I have spent a significant amount of my time with people. Friday was probably the best day of 2009 for me so far. Stasi and I started talking on my bus, and didn't stop until we fell asleep sometime after midnight. Our conversation ranged everything from futures and ideals and philosophy and boys and sex and family and memories. It was so easy to talk. It flowed constantly, including while sharing a bowl of mac n' cheese and then two little slices each of cheesecake. I was sad to realize it was the first time I'd ever discussed philosophy in depth, and that I wouldn't feel comfortable speaking with my "closer" friends. We have many similarities, and I think her life is very exciting, if because of its extremes. I am comfortable in my nerdy happy medium, but I have no scars, I have never broken a bone, I've never gotten drunk, and there aren't any exciting boys in my life.

I talked about Dave a lot, bleh, but she really helped me to see the apathy. I knew it was there, he listed it in his favorite things, and I in my least favorites. But I didn't see it applied or directed towards me, despite the obvious. Thanks, Stasi. :]

My only thought for the last two days

I wish I could honestly say this quote:

"I love my past.
I love my present.
I'm not ashamed of what I've had, and
I'm not sad because I have it no longer."

edit: I can say it

Some Songs

Wish You Were Here: a beautiful, sparse guitar duet by Pink Floyd, the words are gorgeous and the music divinely warm and simple.

It was the first riff I learned on guitar because Matt taught it to me some Monday after drumline practice freshman year. It made me think about him for a while afterwards.
"I was dueting with my uncle and we played Wish You Were Here and it made me sad. :(" -Dave
It is the most important vinyl album I own and the basis for the mural on my door.

American Pie: piano and guitar, it's got nonsensical lyrics that sing of lost love, an inability to help others, and a love of fading music.

The first full song I learned to play on guitar, I've screamed through choruses with Katy Creppon, in Sarah's basement, and hope to with new friends as well.

Soco Amaretto Lime: guitar and harmony and a vinyl scratch, this song made me cry for the memories I won't have and adventure and wondering if I will ever again be young and love in the same time.

Jeff showed it to me after the Power Pit Reunion, and I cried in front of him for the third time in less than a month.

You Can't Always Get What You Want: English chorus, guitar, lonely trumpet, Mick Jagger, and one hot maraca, it's the epitome of my quiet longing and belief that it'll all turn out alright or dead.

The only song featured on [H]ouse twice, it was my personal motto for a long time.

Hallelujah: piano and vocals, it doesn't really matter who's singing it. The words are Biblical in nature, and sometimes I don't understand, but when I do, it's tragic.

The times sung together my first year with the pit, innumerable. Coffee House and private moments of mourning, this is the most important song of my high school career and summary of freshman year.

Golden Slumbers: Abbey Road, a piano and strings and childhood idealism and the dream that someday I will not wake up alone.

In My Life: The Beatles' most sentimental work by my standard, and once hailed as the greatest song of all time, it is a very thin song with vocals and warmth and harmony.

Landed: piano, a drum set, a bass and Ben Folds' voice, it's about redemption and leaving and being welcomed back.

My favorite song by Ben Folds (that is not a cover of Bitches Ain't Shit), I've seen my clouds come tumbling down countless times.

Mr. Tambourine Man: the most lyrical poetry I've ever come across, the guitar is simple and the harmonica sad.

I want everything beautiful and free in this song.

Love Reign O'er Me/Baba O'Riley: I couldn't pick my favorite The Who song. They've both got memories.

Samson: quiet piano and the unattainable voice of Regina Spektor, I can never be the first one to love you.

Us and Them: the second riff I learned on guitar, it's a beautiful, swirling culmination of every beautiful instrument and sad thought I can muster.

It's only barely my favorite song from my favorite album for reasons I won't explain. It would be The Great Gig in the Sky, if only because someone I admired and found solidarity in and was jealous of in 9th grade loved it.

Farmhouse: a beautiful song with enveloping guitar by Phish and lyrics so simple and comforting.

It was playing when I finally escaped Dave bearwrestling, and it made each think of the other though that was found out later. I couldn't believe how perfect it was and is. There are several by Phish I should include, but I'd have to thank Dave for introducing me to them. I feel like I can't like them on my own.

Thunder Road/Born to Run: The Boss has more "American" lyrics of freedom and young love than all the novels of experience I've yet read and I cannot choose. Whether guitar, piano, or mad saxaphone, they are wonderful for their own reasons.

In the Sun: featured on Scrubs, a solitary guitar, and vocals warm and cold at the same time, there are memories I can't stand to think of.

Going to California/Tangerine: my favorite by Led Zeppelin, they're of a quieter guitar than many of their other rockin' hits, but the lyrics are more for me and childhood escapism

Old Man: by Neil Young and the Stray Gators, it's a simple guitar and a wavering voice singing of growing old and the differences and change of age and idealism

It was the first and only song my dad has sang with me to some degree of completion. I was singing it as I came home the first time I snuck out.

Stolen: a blatant pop song with a strong guitar, drums, and vocals by Dashboard Confessional.

I played it for two hours the day I broke up with JoeKat, determined that I would give it a try and not end what had given me so much happiness. This summer made it all the more a reality, because when the last week of the gold and glimmer was replaced, I intended to break up with Dave to save myself heartbreak. He fell in love with me, and ended that notion.

Some I loved before the memories, some the memories made me love. There would be many more from Pink Floyd, Phish, and The Beatles if I was going into songs that should be appreciated with all reverence, but these are the best. Probably another 30 would be needed for me to accurately depict the summation of my musical choices with importance, but I left out blink-182 and Bright Eyes because there are a lot that I feel like I shouldn't be so attached to.

Stuff

Stuff I want to write about, random crazy things I've been thinking about, sad things I don't want to think about, and general thoughts perusing my head:

I'm going to write a short story about the aftermath of "the rain." The rain where it was raining men (Hallelujah) and every woman found their perfect love. What would happen to the men who had to find out that they weren't perfect for anyone?

If no one could lie to you. Not that they'd have to tell the truth, but if everything they said became truth. Not stories, but things they told to you as fact. Like fortune cookies. Steve Goff got "you love sports, horses, and gambling, but not to excess :)" What the hell? Or maybe just if every fortune cookie told you the truth, no matter how it was presented.

I know you meant it, and I loved you before and because of it, but I honestly don't think you'd be capable of breaking his neck. I feel like I never told you I loved you, even if it's not like that.

Sometimes I feel like I'm making friends. Not real friends necessarily, but who I would like to talk to more and make it official. Also all the people who I've really liked before, but know I don't fit in with.

My little brother kicks ass. Literally and figuratively. I wonder about his personal character when he's not with me. I don't know where he gets his money.

I think I may have found my person to talk philosophy with. Looking back, I wonder how we all fit together, and who the next one will be. It's really strange to think about it, but I really like all of Dave's ex-girlfriends. He's got good taste in girls. We should form a club.

Vocab Vednesday is going to be awesome! I'm super excited for our first word, "calamity." Mad props to Matt and Dimitri Martin.

Vegetarianism appeals to me as part of a kind and efficient existence. However, it seems right that as an omnivore I should not deny myself meat. Once I go to college, I won't buy myself meat, as it's economically better, healthier, and generally more convenient. If someone offers, or it's Thanksgiving, I will indulge. Best line ever "it's a cookbook." The episode ends with, "Sooner or later, we'll all be on the menu." What a great fucking show.

I don't know how to tell someone they smell terrible and should shower more often. Do I do it anonymously? Other people agree with me, so I think something has to be said. It's incredibly pervasive and offensive to be near them for any period of time.

My reading has seemingly been all intertwined and self-referencing recently. Perhaps it's because I've been reading very leftist literature. Music has been an interesting change for me recently. I've been listening to rock and loud music to drown out the other thoughts and I'm enjoying it. However, many of my new music choices are mildly influenced by people I don't associate with at all.

I was totally serious watching that hilarious movie. Next time, just you three, we're gonna think it's even funnier.

Pirate seems like an ideal occupation, if only the Robin Hood kind of pirate stealing from oil tankers and rich assholes. It's the freedom of the wild seas, a collective anarchy, and all the booze and wenches. Being a girl gets you really appreciated I should think.

Being sexually harassed makes me feel pretty.

Sometimes I try to reconcile my philosophies and it doesn't quite work. I want to live the beautiful ideal that I am best to determine what is best for me, an anarchy. And yet, I would give my control to the boy who introduced me to this philosophy. Communism can only work with enough people. But I don't want to force people to join, otherwise it still won't work. I don't want to waste any time not doing what I want. However, it doesn't matter what I want if it absolutely takes someone else to complete it. If I do everything in my power to do what I want, it may still come down to someone else's affirmation. Be silly. Be honest. Be kind.

In my entry, "Questions I Should Ask" I don't remember who I was going to ask seven of the questions, but think they were important.

Romanticism and Decisions

Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote in the Romantic Period about the Puritan Period. I was very much aware of Romanticist ideals. Being very much conflicted with how I incorporate the emotional extremes and reckless abandon into my life, I will not stand to give up the luxury of reason and logic. Mr. Longo asked if anyone had to make an important decision recently, in an attempt to give an example of the reasoning vs. impulse response. Hurriedly, I raised my hand. The moment returned rushing and quiet. Those seven important syllables came back to perch upon my lips. Of course, there was more than those seven, but the only ones he heard. The fear and trembling doubt collapsed over me in a movie version of my choice. It was the perfect example of logic vs. being swept up in the beautiful ideals of passionate Romanticism. Longing so painful, so grating and drawn out, finally eased and the vision of a perfect sidewalk in June. And yet, apprehension, hesitation, fear. I wanted to give everything, but logic made that sudden positive/negative chart. "Wrong place," glared the headline. "There will always be time," said the sub-header. The only two whims of logic, and I spat out the most important words of my life. "Would you like to share?" Asked Mr. Longo.

"Nope." And he moved on.

Notes I Wrote

This is my journal entry describing the fear of what will happen after he stopped loving me. It is undated, but was written sometime after October 13th, 2008.

I fear that when there is no more love and awkward interactions and memory remains, he will leave with indifference, reducing me to a good girl and a good fuck and I will go about with my pain and heart broken love for what could have been no more. How he will maybe move on, and I will run to Matt in spite. I could not bear in my soul to hurt one in efforts to hurt the other.

P.S. At this point I was pretty certain I was going to fuck Dave. "Never the time and place and lover all together," to quote. "Run to Matt," meant to publicly associate my grieving self with Matt so that Dave would be jealous. However, I knew I couldn't do that because it could potentially undermine his relationship, and I would never have intentionally subjected another girl to my sad fate.

Notes I Wrote

This is my journal entry that describes my dissatisfaction with my relationship with JoeKat entitled "She's no Baribie™" and, remarking on how devious I had been, I now planned to be. It is dated Sunday, September 28th, 2008.

My mom wants a picture of us, and I think she's going to get another circumstantial accident. Or nothing at all. There's nothing of Joe, but he's a fuck up and fucked me up. Too goddamn awkward to kiss me in public. Dick. Made me feel like a common whore. It's because I'll actually FUCK You! That's why I'm scared. Because I don't want to wait and I won't regret you.

P.S. "Fucked me up" is referencing when he told me he loved me, then took it back less than 24 hours later. Tomorrow will be the last reminiscent day.