Oh Em Gee! This Is So Cliche!

I don't know why I'm so worried about it. It's not like I'm actively seeking him out. It's not as if I am prepared to make all of the changes and sacrifices that come with a commitment. But it still hurts. I am still alone. I can handle that. Most of the time, I am perfectly okay with that fact. But sometimes, The feeling rides on me. It balls itself up in the pit of my stomach, and makes life even more depressing. Not always, but sometimes. Maybe it's because I see how it has worked out for me in the past; meaning: not at all. And how others make it seem so, so, Not easy, but less difficult. I guess there's just that part of me that will always want to be loved and protected. There's that part of me that wants to commit and sacrifice for someone else, for an us factor. regardless if it's now, or not.

Maybe that's why I keep doing this to myself... that's not an answer... Maybe I keep thinking back to past non-possibilities because in my self pity there is desperation. Unfounded desperation, but desperation no less. I want something comfortable, and constant. something I know, but am still curious about. Something mysterious and deep. Something with someone I know that I will always love, AND be friends with. Something real.

The Part About This

The sad part about all of this; is how much I wanted to like him. The sad part is I was thinking the same things sober as I almost blurted drunk. The sad part; music makes it harder.

The worst part about this is knowing that it would never work out in the long run. The worst part is understanding that I can get there in my head, but in person, it will almost always stop in person before then. The worst part; these lyrics are convincing me otherwise.

The best part about all of this is finding out truths about me. The best part is talking with people because of my self pity and demise. The best part; knowing I’m strong enough to walk away, at least eventually.

Granted; this 'poem' sucks terribly... Thanks. :)

It's only a send button.

I am sitting here contemplating my demise. Not in a way that seems normal. Not in a way that most people would think of as a demise at all. I am contemplating pushing for something that I know will inevitably end badly. It started ok, and went bad day one. It will end badly. That’s not a feeling. That’s a fact. I am fretting over whether or not I will put my faith in mankind’s ability to change, and mold for others. If people are able to bend their wills to those of others, or not. If I do this, the ball will be off of me and in someone else’s court. But that could be the last straw to rejection. It’s only the matter of clicking a measly minuscule button or not at this point. But in that button is the future of my life as I know it. Do I take this chance? Do I run the other way? I should, and say Fear, it doesn’t matter what you think. I can handle the no if it comes. I can even handle being laughed at for trying. But can I handle it if it’s a yes? Can I cope if the vicious cycle that’s bound to come about with the yes, does come to fruition? I’m not sure I could handle the yes. So I wait… and contemplate. And fret. And over think. Just press the Damned button! It will mostly likely be a no. But what if it’s not?

They Think the Same, It Ends the Same.

I think it's funny how I let these things happen. Especially since I know exactly how they'll happen before they happen, and then they happen exactly the way I think that they will. There are so many 'smart' things I think of to say in situations like this. But they never seem to make it passed my lips. Lots of this has to do with me not being that kind of girl. I mean seriously; I don't think I look like that sort of girl. Maybe I do...

Maybe it has something to do with those it happens with. I have a theory behind that as well. The attractive ones think it'll be easy, because I'm NOT as attractive as them. The fat ugly ones have too much self confidence, or they think it'll be easy because no one else is trying. Regardless of the reasoning; They all end up wanting the same thing. They're guys.

This isn't actually what I wanted to say.

Empty promises are things that I tend to want to believe. But who doesn't? They sound good. they are designed to be believed. But in the end; I know they are empty. And I am glad that I don't always believe them. I chastise myself for believing them some of the time, and to the extent that I do. As soon as I hear them, I think I should run the other way, but stay a few minutes longer. Just to see how it will play out I guess. I do not regret leaving though. I just wish I could get my act together and leave when instinct tells me to.

Sometimes I wish the night would just go bust early, so I won't have to deal with this. Then I won't be the villain. That's terrible. Sometimes I want things to work out. But no one has the same ideals as me in this 21st century America. Therefore; it may never ever work out. So I'll go back to being alone. I know what I want. But I also know where I stand. I am just a mostly good girl. And I won't lie about my past. But if asked about it, they get the wrong ideas. My deep end was not as deep as others. But you can still drown yourself in the kiddie pool. Maybe if I just make a frowny face all the time, they'll leave me alone. Maybe if they actually read my about me; they would get the idea. I wrote it in all truthfulness. So here's the new idea. I will Not meet Mr. Right at a Bar or Club, on the street, or on MySpace.

Blah blah blah blahblah. I think I'll write a poem about this instance.

I've made my skin crawl too far this time.

There are rational and irrational fears. This may sound like a line from a movie. That's because it is. Several movies actually. But it is true. Right now I am afraid. I am afraid of something that is pretty irrational. I don't think I ever have rational fears. Regardless of this fact though, I am still afraid. I know that things like this scare me beyond reason. I know I should not partake in any sort of activity relating to it. But there are times when I feel it would be rude to say no. Maybe I should just be rude sometimes. I should admit to my wimpdome. I should back out, and accept defeat. Otherwise things like this happen. I get no sleep because irrationality plagues me when I close my eyes and turn my back. If my life were an horror movie. I'd be dead in the first 3 minutes. No joke. I would just like to be able to sleep without nightmares. I don't know how to get to that place. I feel terrible. I feel sick. I can't sleep, I can't even shut my eyes and relax. I want to cry because I know this is all so stupid, but I am helpless to change it. My imagination has every possible evil jumping out at me. This is why I said I don't do them.

Strays I Guess

This is what came of our 15 minute writing exercise in class this past week; enjoy:

”There will be mud on the carpet tonight.” She blurted with a stare and calm resignation coming into her face.

I don’t know why she has to speak this way. A way in which no one really understands what she’s talking about. Quoting random poets or authors. It’s just so damned confusing. I hate trying to figure out her subtle meanings. I never know what she has in mind. And I can’t ask about it. She’ll just get all butt hurt and bent out of shape.

So I search my mind quickly for the response she might be looking for. Nothing comes so I sigh and hand my head and ask;

“Why will there be mud on the carpet to>night?” she looks at me aghast.

“Honey don’t you know?” She stares at me as if I had a dunce cap stapled to my head. “There be a dog runnin’ loose in the streets today. And e’ry body know stray dogs always be windin’ up at my house. ‘Sides that, it’s been rainin’.” I really didn’t see that one coming. She turns back to do the dishes. “Shoot, ‘n’ I just got my carpets done. Those Stanley Steamer things ain’t cheap you know.”

With one brow raised. All I can do is stare at her back. Was she serious? It took me a minute to try and find some words again.

“You don’t have to let the dog in.” I said. She laughed a short laugh then mumbled under her breath. I leaned back in my chair at the table and tried to think about something less trivial.

After a time she spoke. “Ya know I’m the only one who can take care of them strays. Dogs, cat’s e’v’rythin. Look at you. You as stray as they ever be.”

If I could walk to everything, I wouldn't need to drive.

Hey! looky here. A student life center. And what do they have in a student life center? Computers! and what's a computer's main use these days in a place like a student life center? Connecting students to the Internet! Whoohoo! here I am, ON the INTERNET! This week in school, I have to bring in a piece for writer's workshop. It can be anything. an excerpt from a story, an essay, a poem, etc. But I can't figure what to bring in. If I bring in a poem, which one? if I bring an excerpt? from which story? and what part of that story? the stories I have are either too short to take an excerpt, or I can't decided a good way to break the story apart so that it won't be awkward. Oh Poo!! Help Me! I'm also needing to find a job. I don't really know what I was thinking. Trying to get into a specified field. I always feel sooooo inadequate when it comes to applying. I need to find a bar tending job, or just work in my own graphic design field. then I need to move close to that job. I just can't swing it. It would help if I were happy with my portfolio, or I know what the He!! I was doing for a bar. But My Portfolio is unhelpable right now, and I can't work on it without my computer, which still doesn't have a screen. I need a car, and a place to live, and my computer, and a job. And a good friend.

Good Advice and Gypsy's

And a Terrible song I wrote. Thinking about what Gypsy Said... Maybe she did do this; ish.

-Good Advice and Gypsy’s-

Pack the car when I’m 18.

They said that I would never leave.

I’d never break the mold of this small town.

I’ve proved them wrong times before.

Both chess club and homecoming court.

The way of thing it never tied me down.

Well life it is a funny thing.

For on the day I turned 18.

I went and turned their whole world upside down.

I packed up what little I had.

Left both the good and the bad.

I ran as far as I could go.

Where I’d stop’d be my new home.

Work for a dime and gain some trust.

To better learn ‘bout all of us.

Experience something never meant to be.

I’ll become that modern day gypsy.

I make a friend at a corner store.

Hear all about her life before.

Thought she’d never get a chance to live her life.

Three babies and a dead end job.

Her back aches and her feet they throb

Why is living, filling her with strife?

I got to thinking what I could do.

And introduced her to a guy I knew.

He just asked if she would be his wife.

-

Another day another tale.

I listen to the locals wail.

Why to bad things happen just to them?

I sometimes give them insights on.

How they’re not the only people who’ve been wronged.

That others might have it just as hard as them.

They don’t always like my good advice.

That’s about the time that I think twice.

Do I really like this line of work I’m in?

So I packed up what little I had.

Left both the good and the bad.

I ran as far as I could go.

Where I’d stop’d be my new home.

Work for a dime and gain some trust.

To better learn ‘bout all of us.

Experience something never meant to be.

I’ll become that modern day gypsy.

Sometimes though the town is nice.

I consider setting down some times.

Be more than just a waitress or a hand.

Become a local of a town.

But then I start to lookin’ round.

Experience is the nature of my plan.

If I stay what have I done?

To justify this path I’m on.

Like a bullet, I’ll be gone again.

I pack up what little I had.

Leave both the good and the bad.

I run as far as I can go.

Where I stop’ll be my new home.

Work for a dime and gain some trust.

To better learn ‘bout all of us.

Experience some things never meant to be.

I’ve become that modern day gypsy.

Things to Do Around the Mansion

So; I've started my Creative writing class. We had an in class 'assignment' I liked mine. It goes along with the idea of loosing sanity by solitude for VanPyre Mansion...

-Things to Do Around the Mansion-

There’s not much to do around the mansion.

Read, and re-read books.

Roam thru the old classrooms.

Dig for chalk in the teacher’s lounge.

Take a walk around the track and see who you’ll run into.

Look out the top story windows at the town below.

Drive past the front door.

Think.

Don’t Go Into Town.

Dance thru the hallways.

Do handstands and commune with teddy bears.

Shove yourself into a locker to see if you can get out.

Gaze off the balcony contemplating caterpillars below you.

Think.

Don’t Go Into Town.

Reminisce about real life.

Forget the names of people who knew you.

Research butterflies.

Cook raw veggies from the garden.

Learn to kick a touchdown.

Disconnect your thoughts.

Rummage through the old wrestling room for choir robes.

Let your imagination go wild.

Think.

Don’t Go Into Town.

Make up theories about the people you see.

Mold marzipan into villagers.

Rule a nation on your desktop.

Compute numbers for irrational purposes.

Laugh out loud so you don’t get scared.

Watch your back.

Look twice before rounding every corner.

Think.

Don’t Go Into Town.

Make friends with a Vampire.

Speak only in Rhyme.

Summon a demigod.

Feast on imported cheese from the kitchens.

Sit in every seat for two minutes.

Paint dinosaur scales on your arms.

Learn to play both sides in badminton.

Run.

Return to the Jedi mindset.

Invent a language for you and the ghosts to communicate.

Think.

Don’t Ever Go To Town.

My mirror has three shadows.

It's been a while. Life's had its ups and downs. There were plenty of things I could have vented about, or made note of. But life warranted it not so.

That said; I think my reflection is much better than my photo. And my shadow is better than my silhouette.

Catching up with the Catcher of Dogs

And here's the next part (what's written) of my story; The Dog Catcher:

I tried to press myself further into the clothes while trying to not move a muscle, and unable to blink. I could feel his eyes penetrating my resolve. It felt almost as if his eyes were willing me. Willing me to just leave my safe-haven and just come to him.

Why did he just sit there? Why did he not just get my life over with? That must be what he wanted. My mind raced. I tried to find a way out of this predicament. I found none. I was stuck. Chills ran up my spine at this realization.

In that instant, I could feel the cold sweat on my skin and the heart beat in both mine and Scotty’s chests. I could hear the ticking of the clocks throughout the house, and the low din of the TV still on in the sitting room. The sound of the wind as it lightly rustled the leaves outside my windows, and the sound of the few cars that passed by on the street. I could hear the low melodic breathing that cam from Boyd as he stared unblinkingly, building the suspense until my end.

.

Then there was new sound. Boyd cleared his throat. “’tseems we’ve got company.” He announced with his grin. The sound was a car turning off the street into our drive. Boyd slowly got up off the bed and made his way around it. “Now don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back with friends.” He winked as he walked passed.

The car that had turned into the drive now cut the engine, followed by the slamming of two car doors and their footsteps on the walk. Whoever this was; they should not have been here. I wanted to shout out to them to help. But I also wanted them to run for their lives while they still could. I did not know what Boyd had concocted in those few moments, for our untimely visitors.

.

I was nudging my way further back in my closet attempting to think my way out of this as quickly as possible, before Boyd got back. Then I resolved to try and find a way out. I put Scotty down on the floor of the closet. He backed into the corner and sniffed at the back walls. I whispered for him to stay and be quiet.

I slowly let myself out of the closet and rushed to the windows. The storm windows were still on. We could not get out the way. Why was mine ht only room without access to a balcony up here? I tiptoed towards the door and tried to turn the knob, while straining to hear where Boyd and our visitors were.

The door was locked. Why could I not get though this locked door if he could? I couldn’t hear anything from downstairs, until I heard the volume on the TV go up. The front door hadn’t been opened yet, so he must have sat down. This was getting stranger by the minute. I was about to turn the lock when the doorbell rang.

.

Scotty barked out. I shushed him. If I could not save us, I at least didn’t want to be the cause of yet another death. The Bedroom door would not open.

The doorbell rand again, and its ringer knocked in persistence. “I’m comin’, I’m comin’.” Boyd called out.

I imagined him making his way over to the door with his evil grin and Joe splattered shirt. I could see in my mind the look on the faces of whoever this was, as they looked at the blood that covered Boyd’s face and body when he would open the door. Scotty started to whimper. He pawed at the back wall. It looked like he was trying to dig his way out of this.

I went to him to try and make him quiet down. This is when I saw a seam in the wall. There was also a lip on the floor. Not very noticeable, but it looked like it was there to keep the wall even. I ran my finger along the break. The faintest draft wafted through it. The seam went all the way around in the shape of a square barley wider than a body. I pushed on it. Nothing happened.

.

I was at my wits end, and out of ideas. The bedroom door would not open, even after I turned the lock. The windows were double payned. The storms were “shatter proof.” I couldn’t even break the glass to get out. Not that out the window led anywhere but the outside of a high second story. I stopped my fruitless effort of trying to push on the wall. I turned and re-locked us back into the closet, then slumped down behind the clothes against the wall. In a fit of frustration, I kicked at the corner of the door frame. I heard a weird click, and then put both my hands on the ground bracing myself for whatever was coming next.

.

Downstairs I heard the front door open. But no screams followed. They were talking! Maybe Boyd had cleaned up. I hadn’t heard the water run, but in my present state I may have missed that.

I leaned forward to try and hear better through he closest air vent. I must have pressed down too hard on the lip on the floor, because it slid down from my palm. This startled me, so I turned around to see it. The lip had submerged completely into the floor. I heard a loud outburst of laughter from below me. It sounded as if they had moved away from the door into the living room. The sudden slam of the door confirmed this suspicion for me. Scotty started nudging at the crevice again with his nose. I was too confused to stop him now.

Who was here? Why were they laughing? Didn’t Boyd just kill my Joe? Wasn’t he planning on killing me too? What was going on?!

.

I slumped back against the wall once again and it promptly gave way. I had to stifle my own surprised yelp this time. The hole in the wall was now most obviously a door. I could see that now. It opened to the side and led into a very narrow hall that led to a spiral staircase. Scotty was now wriggling with excitement. I’m sure me being in the way is all that kept him from shooting down into it.

Before I moved, I strained to hear where Boyd and his guests were again. It sounded like they were still below us in the living room, and still speaking heartily. I did not recognize the voices, now that I could hear them more clearly, as if they were now directly below me. One of the voices was a deep bellow. It was a hearty and throaty voice of someone like a Cadillac dealer or a ranch owner, though I could not make out what they were saying yet. The other voice to my amazement was a woman’s dark voice.

I managed to squeeze myself into the hole of the wall, and I found I could stand on the other side. Scotty shot past me and down the stairs as stood as I was out of the way. I tried to examine the door a little, to see if we could get back through that way if needed. I could not feel a handle on my side. While running my fingers along the sides, it slipped from my grasp. There was a click when it slid back into place, leaving me in the dark.