Eulogy (Poem)

My hearts lie deep in shattered palms,
My elders crying out the Psalms,
Trying to show me the way
To the empty hell of endless stray.

Sunset comes inverted like
the artery's red lightning's strike,
soaking up the empty bliss,
and the princely love who comes with gifts-

The dark wood stake of lost sons,
not unwieldy like the Native's last run,
who shies away from light's embrace
and lives in the darkness unencumbered by waste-

As the moon makes its last jaunt,
and I cry out for my former haunt,
The fire licks my saddened skin
and I know what is found within...

a broken child's shattered palms
and the dying woman screaming Psalms
the flickered light bearing the way
my empty hell, the place to stay.

Growing a Pair

I recently decided that, for the time being, I am over the whole relationship thing. I try to build something, and inevitably someone f's me over. I want to find something on my own with someone who doesn't get the background of the athlete's culture. I want someone appalled at the thought of having the stresses of a club on your shoulders. I want someone who I can explain my frustrations and have them not understand at all.

Why does this deem the title "Growing a Pair"? Because this is my decision to start to make my own statement and bring my own individuality to a relationship. My previous life revolved around my dependence on another's outlook to base and evolve my own. I no longer care about that. I want to make my own decisions and emotions on what I want and not what someone else wants out of me.

Maybe I have come to this after hours of listening to self empowering music, maybe watching Martin Jones getting smashed by the Blackhawks...maybe maybe what if what if. This is my New Year's resolution: to stop being a pussy and assert myself. And FTR.

Christmas Cheer/Misery

For the holiday that is supposed to bring a family together, my family managed to push me further away. Firstly, my presents sucked-next to my sister, at least, who easily got twice as much of much more expensive stuff. I spent Christmas Eve with my grandmother in the emergency room for her not-really-emergency-but-still-urgent infection. So my mother and sister did all the Christmas baking without me.

Christmas Day rolls around. Our usual thing that we do on Christmases that my dad and I are in town is: 1. Open Presents; 2. Eat Cinnamon Rolls; 3. Veg Around Watching TV; and 4. Going To The Movies. This is what we do. Everything got screwed up this year.

It sucked. My mom has been trying to make things better since she realized how much it meant to me to help with all of the baking. It meant that there were some pretty significant lapses in familial structure. I did all of the heavy lifting, high reaching, and anything that involved any pain at all. I would pour the toffee because it burns your hands through any potholders, and I would get the cookies off the tray before they had cooled because all of the spatulas were in use. And when my sister took over all of those tasks, it really showed how much of a sideliner I had become.

I expected my family to move on without me. I appreciated that at Thanksgiving. What I didn't expect was to get attacked by my family for not acting like a part of the family when I was doing all that I could to try. They acted like I was trying to ostracize myself. I spent four years of my life being ostracized by high schoolers. I have no desire to do that again. I want to be respected and wanted.

Right now I feel like a Christmas decoration that doesn't go with the décor and is about to be tossed in the trash.

Walking the Straight and Narrow....or at least right next to it

Figuring out what people want from me is something that I have struggled with for the majority of my life. I miss a lot of verbal or physical indicators that are obvious to others. This makes me feel like a moron a lot. Whether or not I ever get the situation plagues the people close to me.

And now I'm back "home". What is home? Is it some place that you have lived in since early childhood? Is it where you grew up? Is it where you currently live? Is it where you feel at peace with yourself? Because I don't have that. I have lived in California my whole life, and yet I have hated it here since I was little. I have lived in this particular house for a few years, and I feel somewhat at peace in my room, but everybody just barges in and sits to talk without my permission. My childhood houses were scattered about Temecula and Escondido. Now I go to college in New York. And I never once felt at home.

My dog makes being here easier. I missed her the most when I was gone. Don't think I'm some asshole for this either...she was the only one that I couldn't talk to over the phone or message. But the fact that she is absolutely thrilled over my presence is welcoming. Even if my sister holds the stage and attention of my parents at the moment and I just hole up in my room while both my parents work.

I know that I shouldn't complain about not really feeling at home anywhere. There are plenty of people who have a just reason why they don't feel at home-military family, people who move around a lot, homeless people. But to tell the truth, I feel like this is staring me in the face and causing me to miss out on some truly amazing experiences.

I feel so alone. People surround me, and yet none of them understand how anyone could dislike the sun and heat, the city of hopes and dreams, the love and joy of the city. But I do. Los Angeles is the City of Broken Dreams. And I need to find the city where dreams are whole and unmolested to flourish.

Finals Stretch

Today marked the end of my first term of college. I turned in my research paper and took my Biology final. Monday, I had the Calculus final. It was a bitch. Tuesday I had to turn in my Conflict in the Ancient World essay. It was a solid essay. I'm pretty sure that I will get As in everything except for Calc.

My calculus professor is a dick. I have him next term because he is the only Calc II professor, but he doesn't really teach. He plays around on his computer and throws up a program that half the class doesn't understand. I had taken calculus three times before I went into this class.  I aced the last two I was in, but the school didn't offer enough math classes for me to go straight into Calc III and still be a Biology & Math major. It was a bitter pill, and I knew that this class wouldn't be simple. But I never expected to assume that everything I knew about calculus was wrong. That pissed me off. He just ignored our questions and focused on roundabout versions of extremely basic computations.

Regardless, I think I will do moderately in that class.

On the side, I really hate commercials about adoption. If a teenager gets pregnant, they deserve to do a little work to figure out what to do. Although it is probably more likely that the mother doesn't pay very much attention to case studies or options...


Eh. Gonna go watch this marathon of Best Ink

Pirates

Tonight is going to be a blast. At midnight, a group of my friends are going to get together and play King's Corner. Or Circle of Death if you live in the South. With Captain Morgan and eggnog. The term is almost over-finals are all next week. We all are excited to be going home, and I know that I will have a blast with my friends when I get back.

Currently, I am holed up waiting for my friend to deliver. Watching The Big Bang Theory....Leonard failing miserably at Skype-sex. And Sheldon freaking out over a dirty couch.

Aaaaannnndddd.....

My stupid friends just brought over 100 proof Captain Morgan. A half a bottle. They were supposed to get us a 40 proof bottle. I am pissed. I paid a lot of money for this. Leave it to Rudy to fuck things up. What a dumbass.

So much for a fun night

Being Different and Other Extreme Sports

I am a rocker and a metalhead. Its pretty clear. I wear black on black, too much eyeliner, pale foundation, and Doc. Martens. I have a pretty withdrawn appearance and I listen to music ceaselessly. I write depressing or tragic poetry. This is who I am.

I always hope that someone will fall for me because of this. I want someone to think that I am amazing based solely on the fact that I really don't fit in. I am the token freak that people want in their stupid clique for the crazy perspective. I hate being alone.

My relationship is at a low. He is never online and has no cell service. I miss him so much, and I know that he is sleeping around up in the Midwest. It is infuriating that he gets to screw random girls that I will never know and I can't talk to him. A main part of our relationship is that we can see other people, but we communicate with each other about our personal issues or doubts. I don't want him to be a doubt. Or a regret. And he is well on his way to being one. I'm pretty sure that I love him, but I never get to see him or be around him.

He is the most amazing person I have ever met. He is talented, smart, funny, uplifting, inspiring, hot, and all and all a great person. He cares about others, and cares about what people think of him. Everybody loves him. When I am around him, its like there isn't anyone else that he would rather be with. There is nobody that I would rather be with. I never get bored with him. He knows what he wants out of a relationship, and freedom to expand is one of them. I'm not just a teenager who thinks they're in love, I am a teenager who has been given just enough to be addicted, but doesn't know if the end justifies the addiction.

I wish I had the balls to not care about what others think. I slept with this guy a month or so ago, and he told another guy that he actually wanted to sleep with my best friend and roommate, Faith, instead of me. That hurt. I thought that I didn't care about what people said about me, but that proved that I was wrong. I am the self-esteem bomb that teenage girls all are. And it sucks. I want to be confident in a relationship, but still have the ability to be free with myself and have that collegiate spontaneity. Why is my life so hard?

Fuck me.

...But Home Is Nowhere

Thanksgiving Break couldn't have come soon enough. I got to come back to Temecula, CA. Everything was going to be mellow and easygoing. Working out, watching TV, seeing my friends....simple right? Not. My parents are taking this time to run me around. My mother was going to have me clean the backyard, but my dad interfered. I had maintained it singlehandedly for the months leading to my departure. So my sister had to do it. Now, I have to go shopping. So much for relaxing.

It feels so weird here. Elmira seems more like home now. I adjusted quickly. Probably because I'm not really the family type.

Did I mention this is weird???


FML. This is gonna drag...

My Place

Figuring out what people want from me is something that I have struggled with for the majority of my life. I miss a lot of verbal or physical indicators that are obvious to others. This makes me feel like a moron a lot. Whether or not I ever get the situation plagues the people close to me.

And now I'm back "home". What is home? Is it some place that you have lived in since early childhood? Is it where you grew up? Is it where you currently live? Is it where you feel at peace with yourself? Because I don't have that. I have lived in California my whole life, and yet I have hated it here since I was little. I have lived in this particular house for a few years, and I feel somewhat at peace in my room, but everybody just barges in and sits to talk without my permission. My childhood houses were scattered about Temecula and Escondido. Now I go to college in New York. And I never once felt at home.

My dog makes being here easier. I missed her the most when I was gone. Don't think I'm some asshole for this either...she was the only one that I couldn't talk to over the phone or message. But the fact that she is absolutely thrilled over my presence is welcoming. Even if my sister holds the stage and attention of my parents at the moment and I just hole up in my room while both my parents work.

I know that I shouldn't complain about not really feeling at home anywhere. There are plenty of people who have a just reason why they don't feel at home-military family, people who move around a lot, homeless people. But to tell the truth, I feel like this is staring me in the face and causing me to miss out on some truly amazing experiences.

I feel so alone. People surround me, and yet none of them understand how anyone could dislike the sun and heat, the city of hopes and dreams, the love and joy of the city. But I do. Los Angeles is the City of Broken Dreams. And I need to find the city where dreams are whole and unmolested to flourish.

Impatience

I can't focus today. Class could not drag any longer. I wish I was being productive elsewhere. Good God. Pericles is DEAD!!! Who cares what he said hundreds of years ago???? Ugh...history will always repeat itself and nobody can do anything to change it. People are bloodthirsty and full of hate. We can never have peace because we can never come to our differences and learn. And even if I were to try, nobody would speak for me to listen.

Comedians and Drugs and Circus Acts

Why does all comedy make you wonder if the comedian is snorting cake mix? They all have a serious case of the freaks. Either way- they are hilarious. The judgments of others and the obnoxious fart jokes are the joys of life for a poor (ish) college student. At least, Daniel Tosh is. He is the cat's meow. My catch phrase that I'm trending...or not?

I wish my life was a comedy; funny, sarcastic, with its ups and downs. My life is a tragedy. In the historical sense. We follow the life of the "hero" and watch as she falls epically. And it inspires a deep emotional response. AKA pity. I am surrounded in my failures. I go to a school with a Nationals winning ice hockey team and I'm regulated to the JV wannabes. Half of the team are newbies. FML. My classmates all think that I know everything about anything when all I am trying to do is keep my head above the water and get into a serious relationship with a guy who actually wants to be seen with me. And my favorite band is getting a little to close to personal. Every song hits every nerve. Its poetic justice. Literally.

And I have been suffering from severe poet's writer's block. My work has been grossly repetitive and darker than usual. The light at the end of the tunnel is dimming. And so is the spark of excitement at going to college. Leaving California was probably the best thing I ever have done, but falling into a safety net the second I got to my own tightrope was dumb. I should pull a Toussieng. I should go to the big city with a bag of clothes and a pair of brass balls.

Because I wish I actually was strong enough to walk without a net.

Collegiate Lab Day

Any day that ends with a four hour long block lab sucks. Biology isn't too bad, but still. Who does that? Ugh. Biology/Math double majoring was not my brightest moment.

At least its all over.

Learning the Ropes in a Way That You Don't Get Burned. Literally

I watch TV. Who doesn't? Looking back, I realize that in comparison to others, I really haven't seen all that much. Probably a result of my parent's idea of socializing and stuff. I never cared about the social lives of pointless celebrities. People needed to do something to deserve my attention, like write a song or perform something close to flawlessly.

My standards are a tad high.

I started watching a TV show where a girl came to the conclusion that she was being used for sex. Not a new concept. I think most TV shows are based in that to a certain point. But up until very recently, that was who I was (minus the sex. I'm pretty sure our relationship would have been better had I put out.) We have an open relationship, and that never was a problem. He lived far away and it gave both of us the excuse to keep from extreme emotional attachment. He would sleep around, I would sit and try to skirt the massive shadow he cast everywhere. The greatest hockey player produced from the area (cough cough state) was hard to miss. His little known, metalhead girlfriend who wore too much black was.

I am not emo. Or punk. I am a rocker metalhead. If someone tells you different, then they don't know their ass from a hole in the ground.

Anyway, he was all that and a bag of chips. I was a handful of fries short of a happy meal. How could our relationship work when we were on different playing fields in different games on different continents? And then he moved to Iowa. Then the open relationship became an issue. Skanks would upload dirty pics of them together, tagging him with little quotes like "hooking up with the next hockey legend..." and other stuff like that. He was a little iffy on that, but he would always tell me. I never told him that I hadn't actually rounded the bases with anyone. He figured I had. So it wasn't a big deal. Until he became almost exclusive with a Barbie Doll named Brandie. Who names their child Brandie? Or Meladie? Jesus.

This went on for too bloody long. I let it happen. And I almost lost everything because of it.

My Li(f)e

So. This is it. The place where I can flash out my dirty laundry in cyberspace without too many people seeing it. This is my life. The dysfunctional, hateful, slime that nobody ever sees. Because I was always that person you could ask anything and expect an honest answer. I was that nerd, that really smart girl who forced herself to become an outcast. And then fell in love with being an outcast. The girl who was completely emotionally on hold until college. The girl who was completely socially on hold until college. That's me. That's what is on my name tag. Its not something interesting, like the Silent Rebellion. Its short. Its relatively androgynous. Its to the point.

I'm Ari. And this is my bloody lovely life.