New Phone: Pictures

This is written description of the pictures I'll be sending to my new phone. There were a lot of pictures I forgot I had.

Aviators from the first Cossart Road party at Jeff's house when it poured

Boxeh Friend screen shot

M&M heart I sent to JoeKat

Tibby, may've still be Tibbetha at the time of taking it

Colbert pumpkin

Steph's car when we got the pretzels that fogged up the windows

"Pablo" from the Dresden Doll's concert

the first time Wasiq rode the bus and I was there

Spotted Dick from the ACME adventure

"This disc is bad or dirty." From Sarah's PS3

Ginger beers from the night of Oct. 8th, 2008

First bouquet of flowers I ever got

Tom's head on Steve Gadd's

Sunrise from January 1st, 2009

the hail outside Dunkin Donuts

Huge toad from gym class

MOJO13 lit up sign

Blue M&M heart

xkcd on the shack

Celebrating Matt's birthday with party hats

heART

Jeff smiling at the sleepy old fat cat from Longwood

My super sweet igloo

Cabot

New Phone: Texts

Last night, I went through the texts, sounds, and photos on my phone that I don't want to lose forever. Some of the texts I may've posted before, but these are the ones I wanted to keep with me everywhere I went.

'i like black boys better than white boys, they're much more fun. Oh, and i tried cocaine! I think i'm addicted!' oh dear god lol

Sad and strange as in dark summer dawns, the earliest rise of half-awakened birds to dying ears when unto undying eyes the casement grows a glimmer square; so sad, so strange, the days that are no more

I take a tip from you as the highest honor anyone can receive, no matter the amount.

Awwwwww chloe, i love and miss you. My roommate and i are running around and getting free things to decorate our room XD makes me think about you =P

We should totally go on Wheel of Fortune teen best friends. We'd pwn.

I do not knowo the story behind the sadness in your eyes but i hope as the day gives way to night that somehowo there is something to make you happy, if on

ly for a moment. You are awesome. Remember that. Love you.

Thank you, you're also my best friend, even if it does get me in trouble

FWD: Which of your girls is trying to hook up with our tenor player?

That's probably the most adorable phrase I've ever heard, and it's a perfect way to say it. That's good, because I think I'm madly in like with you too. :)

I like the tree

I'm sure you'll end up at a place that fits you. You're on of the most distinct people that I've met, and the college that you end in up in will reflect t

Happy Birthday! Now go to sleep!

[Picture] Happy b day

Ill be there for you

ps- if you happen to change your mind about anything, you know you are always welcome back.

[Picture]

WHYY offered me TWO interviews!!! =D =D =D

just an fyi, you are an amazing person and i really admire everything about you. i love you most dearly and hope that jeff continues to be good to you. please dont ever change chloe, the world needs more people like you. oh and by the way.... he breaks your heart ill break his neck =P

First text message from my new phone =( don't like change!!!

I jumped into rainboe falls! Not the big party, but you should still gis it =P

there's a store here that sells NOTHING BUT STENCILS OH MY GOD I'm in heaven

Feelings just faded.
It's so easy.

Apartnership

And we said that everything would be alright, if only the time and place had been different.

This evening, I sat outside on the tire swing. Thought about some fateful late night July, when I couldn't handle it anymore and there was a promise that I could talk about what makes me "me." I stumbled out in that morning darkness, tearing up my feet with walnuts tucked under summer grass. The night was so warm, I figured I could fall apart again and wait it out on the tender ground.

My little brother makes me unbearably proud. There's so much unconventional life about him that I worry he's living too fast, but it's a little beautiful and he's more involved in the lives around him than I've ever been. I despise my accolades to be touted in front of him, because they're worthless in my life, but his achievements can't be revered by adults. Defending a middle schooler from a bastard bully and making lives of moments.

I bet everyone's boobies look good during the upside down parts of roller coasters.

Prom is a singular chance for girls to dress up the like princesses they've always known they are, and one of the few days in a lifetime when it is almost socially acceptable to wear a tiara in public. For girls, anyway. Anything under 13th, 16th, maybe 18th, and 21st are acceptable. Boys never get that evening. On that, I'm borrowing my dress from Viv, though I'll need to get it refitted "about the bust."

I thought about the night hanging out with Carley and Jeff, and how I'd like to get some chalk pastels and draw all over some body.

Someday: Statement for the Future

Someday, I'm going to make love to some beautiful boy who loves me f'real f'real and we'll listen to my records, and he'll appreciate what a quirky alive person I am. He'll love music more than me, because I don't really love it like I thought I did. He will call me, not text me, and I will be friends with his parents and send them Christmas cards, unless he happens to be Jewish. We will wrestle in the grass, and he will be barely able to hold back his ferocious lust. We will share dinner with our families, and he will laugh at my dad's jokes when my dad tries really hard to be funny and personable, but is really only mildly amusing and entirely endearing. Jack will think he is a good guy, and that my eyes are squinty all the time when I'm with him. We will talk politics and question existence, like "Can snails move backwards?" "I wonder how many four-leaf clovers have been run over with lawn mowers?" and at the peak of science and all knowledge, we will go to a museum to find out how magnets work. Because if I don't make it a statement for the future, I will always settle for less and the least.

I can't stop listening to side two of "Our Endless Numbered Days." Damn. He reminds me of James Taylor in his talking with melody.

[edit: I looked it up, snails can't move backwards. I never considered it before today until looking at the pond in my grandmom's backyard.]

WWJT

BLAG! WRITING!

I was first! Mwahaha.

I spent all this break playing Pokemon.
It may or may not be a problem.

Yesterday, I went into Philly with my aunt for the Philadelphia Writing Project in which my short story won an honorable mention. I was proud, until I found out that a particular story from our class also won an honorable mention, and it was some of the worst writing I'd ever read. After that, I was just glad to be in Philadelphia on such an unbelievably gorgeous day. I finally got to see the trees in the Kimmel Center. Ever since it opened, I've been really excited to go up there. Some night, I'll go back and look out at the city. There were beached whales on the streets. An artist put them there. I got new records!! Wooden Shoe books moved next to Repo Records. I would like to volunteer there and read and read for hours, until I go over to the record store and maybe the thrift store. I could be the hippest hipster in Philly, if only I had the dedication to seriously listen to indie music and find it while it's still indie.

The voice of the man from Iron & Wine sometimes sounds like finally getting to sleep in clean sheets, warm and solidly soft. Other times it's lighter, like things could pass through it.

Standing in front of my mirror, putting my hair up for Easter Sunday with grandmom, I had pulled my hair into the perfect half ponytail. BUT! I didn't have a hair tie! My new package sat on the dresser taunting. With all rage and uncivilized gnashing, I tore opening the packaging with my teeth, a beast-woman in command of all objects within my flailing thrashes. Satisfied by the paper killed dead, I put my hair up into a very lovely arrangement and realized my yellow and pink combination had me dressed up very similarly to a dyed and hidden egg of such celebration.

I had a beautiful dream that everyone I'd ever known was in my backyard, looking for buttons in the grass like an easter egg hunt and I could almost fly, like if I'd spent more time trying for lift off instead of looking for pins, that I may've started falling the wrong way. Later, after the dusky hunt was over, I retired to my bed with a friend, and we spoke and it was twenty of midnight until his dad said that he could stay out late, and Apologize kept playing snippets as I leant over my dresser and I was didn't have any clothes on, but it was okay, because it was just us and what is a person but a person. I don't remember waking up or how it ended, but I guess most dreams don't really end cleanly.

Stasi, thank you. I'll tell you in real words soon. Welcome home.

I'm going to tear up all the letters I wrote. They're no good for Jeff or for anyone. I've been writing some poetry, just a little bit. Thinking poetically and sometimes writing it down, maybe.

We are white trash, and our legs are tired from walking up apartment stairs. I dress like it's summer so that the boys will notice when I'm leaning backwards and raising my arms to shut the tall tall trunk of the car. The cars all slow down, but I think I'll have to mention that's because of the speed bumps.

Topeka

Last night, in fitful bouts of sleep, I thought about what it means to really be an adult. An honest to goodness "my parents & Mr. Longo" kind of adult. As much as I'd like to permanently leave on the big girl pants, I'm trite and petty, jealous and temperamental. It's considered a bad thing that I've been "parentified," in the word of my mom's counselor, that I feel overly responsible for the well being of my brother and myself. Still, at times it seems like nobody else is going to be responsible for us, so somebody should care about where he is. Jack and I have similar attitudes towards authority, we just react differently. If the person in charge has earned their position and is competant, they can be respected. However, figureheads get nothing. This is another reason I don't feel quite like an adult. The "adult" world is full of bullshit that has to be resigned to if one is to continue and succeed. But again, maybe this is just a childish interpretation.

Party Like it's 1998

Red version was $19.99 and MarioKart64 was $30.
What kind of hell store was I in?!

Pity Little Things

Though you will never read this, and I already said thank you, "Thank you."

Talk is cheap, and so is my writing. It's been brought to my attention that I need to reiterate what this blog is for. This is an airing of personal grievances. I don't make attacks. I do post information that is of a fairly sensitive nature, but I do censor myself. I realize that we are not all sensible adults who read this and write accordingly. I never post about shit that's going on in my family and only rarely about "my angst." Reading this blog does not entitle anyone to think they know me. Trust me, no matter who you are reading this blog, I don't talk about you behind your back, please try and return the favor as far as this blog is concerned. I write for expression, not entertainment.

Fuckin' A

My 18th birthday is going to be down in Myrtle Beach this year. It's a little hard to get across what that exactly means, except that my cousins are good people with good taste in wild.

"Well, we fooled 'em for a long time, didn't we?"

Imagine that you suddenly lost the ability to read or sing or speak. Overnight, skills just started disappearing, including how to tell everyone else what is happening to you, when you don't really understand it yourself. There are memories when you knew how to do these things. Is it terrifying? Frustrating? There's a disorder, under the class of a childhood developmental disorder, where three year olds start forgetting how to do things, start forgetting how to speak. They start reacting to waking nightmares, hallucinations, and have no idea how to tell their parents what's happening.

"Childhood desire for companionship can become numbed through a history of failed social encounters."
-Wikipedia article on Asperger syndrome

Last night, before Nick and I went to pick up Emily, we shared dinner with my dad. NPR drifted smooth jazz from some Sunday evening program, maybe American Routes, and we got to discussing classical pianists. Eight hour a day focus, intensely preoccupied with black marks on white paper, to the point that simple verbal instructions "play these two chords" becomes a difficult task. My dad said that in the future, all these levels of focus would have names, ADD and Asperger's being broad descriptions. He then went on to casually announce that he has Asperger's. I'd never known it, though everything seemed to fall into an understanding.

"...research supports... and suggests a genetic contribution to Asperger syndrome."

I don't know where my abilities originate from. My mom has the worst memory I've ever encountered, while mine is one of the sharpest. She forgot her friend had cancer, while I remembered that it was thyroid cancer, and he'd lost his health insurance because he was laid off. I've had roughly the same schedule for four years, Tuesday and Thursday HiQ, Monday and Wednesday [activity]. She has never been able to retain this, scheduling all manner of appointments for times with well established engagements. Despite some tendencies towards isolation, I'm still social, whereas my dad is removed from the world except for his immediate family and clients.

"The sky so big it nearly broke my soul."

I have an honest to goodness picnic basket and there are ladybugs all over my house. I count them dotting windows in the morning and afternoons. The grass feels brighter than I've ever seen it. Even the walnut and maple trees in my yard are growing a mossy green bark. Spring is so barely sprung, but the birds are loudly courting and living outside. I think I'll go for a walk.

"Never tell a soul that we kissed."

Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it doesn't.

"Why won't our love keel over as it chokes on a bone?"

MOE seeded 4th and went on to win the Philly regional with Miss Daisy (341) and the Positronic Panthers (486) from Strath Haven. It was an awesome three days, though demanding. Last night, eight of the team members and two more kids from GV went out to a restaurant in Chinatown. I ate a fish's eyeball. It tastes like fish.

"We can mourn it passing and then bury it in the snow."

"So, I gather you're kind of promiscuous then?" I'd never really considered that the word may apply to me, but admittedly, I have low standards and only casual relationships. I've whispered the wrong name, called up the past instead of the present. For my only talent of remembering things, boys sorta blend together.

"If you don't want to be with me just say, and I will go."

"Should you look through some old photos, I adored you in every one of those."

"If someone took a picture of us now, they'd need to be told."

"I'd say she was his sister, but she doesn't have his nose."

"But I hate when I feel like this,"

"...and I never hated you."

An Artist and a Scholar and a Philosopher

I'm getting 150 points off my art project because I am inept with x-acto knives, and my brother is incapable of making photocopies. Alas. On that note. Neither Gabby nor I (nor anyone else?) won the logo design contest, but they did give complimentary Wawa gift card, a lovely surprise.

Today was the second day of FIRST Philadelphia regionals. It's been waaay better than Balitimore, maybe because I know people better and the right ones are here. Yesterday saw a good hour or so of Ultimate with other teams. I was all weezing and sweaty and not good, but it was a great time and I wasn't the worst. However, I fell asleep immediately after showering, so today saw a really rank jersey (though it's currently gettin' a bath, and I can hear the spin cycle). MOE is rockin' and seeded 5th, though tomorrow's qualifiers will probably see us ranked a lil' higher. It's been a much better event than in Baltimore. There's a more intimate sense of team interactions, prompted mostly by the flying disc and warm weather. Today was chillier, damp, and sorta important, so more teams were inside than out. A few of us toured around Drexel, which made the day soar by with interesting conversation. I'm excited for tomorrow.

I've been looking at the past with the opposite of rosy glasses. First, I'm a pretty terrible friend to really just about everyone. I do not reach out to other people and have become horrendously self-aware when talking. I'm crude and blunt and easily irritated. Second, I was awfully cruel to Jimmy. I can excuse myself as a horny and immature teenager, but in the end it doesn't matter, because those are some of my shameful moments. Third, fuck every other guy I've been with (but not Joe either). I'm a dumbass when it comes to relationships (having never seen a functional one except Meg and Joe and the D.'s & D.'s), and always selling myself short. I'm terrified of being codependent, because I can see where I want it, that I show tendencies towards being ensnared, and that my mom gets the way I never want to be. But I feel like I don't get even get decency. Augh. I'm too little for this, or too old to be so naive.

I'm glad that you can forgive

The most satisfying feeling in the world is contentment.

I've finally met someone who I liked less after talking to them.

I've become horrendously self-aware in my head when dealing with kids I perceive as "cooler" than me.

The 7th grader done good. Even the 6th graders are a good batch this year. I kinda wish I could see them grow up a little.

I never have time for reading, but I think this is a lie.

Sometimes, I wish I'd been born a boy with the same mentality. If I was a boy, my art and literature would be downplayed in favor of my above average abilities in the sciences. There wouldn't be the household implications that Jack is free to come and go, while I am a frail and impregnable girl. No one would ever call me a slut or a whore or a bitch. There are no standards that require boys to be photoshopped to be beautiful. Girls writing love letters are heartsick, trite. Drinks would be more expensive, but I don't imbibe, so what benefit have I really lost?

I didn't realize I was so far discarded my irreplaceable friend.

People from a generation past don't really frown so much on smoking cigarettes, because they remember being teenagers, and hey, at least it's legal.

It's a dumb rule that NAHS won't let first year seniors wear the chords. Luckily, Q&S does. :]

Cartwright knows something, but I don't know what...

Today in photoclub, I was surreally surrounded by good feelings and people. Gabby said I was awesome. Becca talked about V for Vendetta. Kira and I talked and shared goldfish (blah blah blah blah). I helped Kristin with math homework and told Eva how to cheat in AP Chem. It was saddening to talk to Emily, but still good to see her. Kate was making an adorable bracelet and we talked about drumline. Sarah and I talked for the first time since Exploratory Art together, though I think circumstance will have us interact over the summer. Dan and Brandon weren't there.

Bucci is displeased with my art submission, but there are only four entries and two are photography, so I'm probably looking at ~$150. There are two entries for the logo, me and Gabby. We'll see how the coming weeks stack up.

I miss Sarah in a similar way to Jimmy. Life is going well without her, but I know I'm missing out by not having her in my life.

Spring is Springing

I've lost the will to write for the sake of writing. This is forced. Partially it has to do with my limited awareness during the day. I'm interacting all the time, but not meaningfully. With the current groups I hang along the edges, I'd predict four people to openly question my whereabouts should I ship out for a few days. The weather's getting nicer. It'd be lovely to run away.

I thought I heard a beautiful analogy today, but I didn't write it down.

Bucci swore I'm meant for art, that I'll be calling her a few years from now and telling her she's always been right. Hopefully it won't take a couple years to find what I'm really after. At the honor society induction, it sucked looking at what everyone was wearing, and remembering of my outfit "hand-me-down," "Goodwill," "hand-me-down," "Goodwill." I think it was the same for my mom. I hate inviting her to things, because then she has to see the other parents. It was tough, always getting dropped off outside McMansions. She called us "second hand roses," in honor to the Streisand song. It's why I don't give a fuck about crimes against property.

It makes me upset when kids don't have lunches to eat.

There's No Turning Back

"a silly little skeleton walking miles to chase her dreams..."

I'm gonna learn to sing these songs.

Take me to an ocean all yours.

I'd like to write Sharpie over my whole body. It'd be art.
First, I'd like to be 18 to keep pictures.

Today was some tough stuff.
Maybe after break it will be less hectic.