The stories I want to tell are not the stories I can tell. I look at the screen and think "This time I will make it safe, fun, something everyone will like." But I can't write like that.
These stories burn through my mind, clamoring until they are let out, until the world sees them. I'm scared of what the world will know of me if I let them out, but they will consume me if I don't.
I've grown used to hiding. I don't show my emotions. I don't let people see the scars-- the rage. I nod and smile and laugh. Keep the blood hidden nicely underneath the skin.
When I write I can't hide. I have to bare myself on the page.The sadness. The vulnerability. Even the naivete. It's all there. Want to see my demons? I've locked them in the pages.
Monday, October 29, 2012
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Better than drugs
"Sit down." Matt said firmly. His purple hair showed brightly against his pale skin that still was not as pale as mine.
"I don't want to watch it." I said, chin up.
"Why not? It's good!" My brother chimed in.
"It's so girly and childish. I swore off that kind of stuff."
"Sit." Matt repeated. I sighed, sitting down. Matt sat down beside me and my brother sat on my other side. Both guys were 18 years old, only one year younger than me.
I sighed as I listened to them discussing which episode to show me. Hey, at least they weren't into drugs or something.
But still. This was pretty bad.
They settled on an episode and music started playing. "My little pony, my little pony, ahhhhhh."
I grimaced. I just had to get through an hour or so and then I could tell them officially that I didn't like it. They could collect their dolls without me.
I paid attention, because if I didn't they would call shenanigans. Also I planned to use this material to tease them later.
Except, things didn't go the way I expected. I started laughing at the jokes. I liked the art. I began to feel similar to Twilight Sparkle, the main character.
I found myself wanting to watch more. I had joined my brother and his best friend in the Brony ranks.
Sigh.
"I don't want to watch it." I said, chin up.
"Why not? It's good!" My brother chimed in.
"It's so girly and childish. I swore off that kind of stuff."
"Sit." Matt repeated. I sighed, sitting down. Matt sat down beside me and my brother sat on my other side. Both guys were 18 years old, only one year younger than me.
I sighed as I listened to them discussing which episode to show me. Hey, at least they weren't into drugs or something.
But still. This was pretty bad.
They settled on an episode and music started playing. "My little pony, my little pony, ahhhhhh."
I grimaced. I just had to get through an hour or so and then I could tell them officially that I didn't like it. They could collect their dolls without me.
I paid attention, because if I didn't they would call shenanigans. Also I planned to use this material to tease them later.
Except, things didn't go the way I expected. I started laughing at the jokes. I liked the art. I began to feel similar to Twilight Sparkle, the main character.
I found myself wanting to watch more. I had joined my brother and his best friend in the Brony ranks.
Sigh.
The only time I have ever been kicked out of a store
In high school, my group of friends had a tradition. After our finals every semester, we would go out and do something. It didn't really matter what so long as we were together. It was our way of making sure that we saw each other before we all went our separate ways on breaks.
The first instance of this took place my freshman year. Seeing as we were stuck in Racine, our options were pretty limited. Obviously, we chose to go to the mall.
We did some basic shopping. Salespeople followed us around the store because they thought we were skipping school and we were going to shoplift. I thought this was really funny.
When we got to JCPenney, we were bored. Deciding to express our teenage independence in the only way we knew how (by being greatly immature), we took turns making running leaps onto the perfectly made, rock hard, sample beds. It was a great time.
My best friend had gotten separated from us, and she was hiding behind racks trying to sneak up to us to scare me. What she didn't know was that her hiding had actually drawn the attention of the harshest saleswoman in the store.
When she finally caught up to us, we urged her to take her turn ruining that perfect bed. She eagerly walked as far back as she could before running forward and taking a fantastic soaring leap on the bed. She landed heavily, bunching covers up as she fall. Just as she landed, with brilliant timing, the saleslady stepped around the corner.
I swear my friends melted into the racks. One even had the audacity to say that she wasn't there with us. She continued that ruse until she was out of the store, refusing to even speak to us.
It never occurred to me to try to get away, so in the end it was my best friend and I taking the brunt of the woman's anger. I don't remember what she said, except, "Get out or I am calling security."
I remember the rush of it. I had always been the "good kid" and it was exhilarating to get in trouble while having such fun. I remember feeling wild. Like I was some hero in a story.
For a fourteen year old stuck in Racine, it really meant something.
The first instance of this took place my freshman year. Seeing as we were stuck in Racine, our options were pretty limited. Obviously, we chose to go to the mall.
We did some basic shopping. Salespeople followed us around the store because they thought we were skipping school and we were going to shoplift. I thought this was really funny.
When we got to JCPenney, we were bored. Deciding to express our teenage independence in the only way we knew how (by being greatly immature), we took turns making running leaps onto the perfectly made, rock hard, sample beds. It was a great time.
My best friend had gotten separated from us, and she was hiding behind racks trying to sneak up to us to scare me. What she didn't know was that her hiding had actually drawn the attention of the harshest saleswoman in the store.
When she finally caught up to us, we urged her to take her turn ruining that perfect bed. She eagerly walked as far back as she could before running forward and taking a fantastic soaring leap on the bed. She landed heavily, bunching covers up as she fall. Just as she landed, with brilliant timing, the saleslady stepped around the corner.
I swear my friends melted into the racks. One even had the audacity to say that she wasn't there with us. She continued that ruse until she was out of the store, refusing to even speak to us.
It never occurred to me to try to get away, so in the end it was my best friend and I taking the brunt of the woman's anger. I don't remember what she said, except, "Get out or I am calling security."
I remember the rush of it. I had always been the "good kid" and it was exhilarating to get in trouble while having such fun. I remember feeling wild. Like I was some hero in a story.
For a fourteen year old stuck in Racine, it really meant something.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Horror Movies
He watched her as she watched the screen. She squealed and squirmed as blood and intestines poured out of the deep cut on the main character's stomach.
She buried her head in his shoulder. He loved the warm feel of her cheek there.
He looked down at her to see that she had her head turned so that she could see the screen out of one eye.
He was amazed at the look on her face. Not fear. Not revulsion.
Hunger.
It turned to lust as she gazed at him. He was afraid, so he did the only thing he could do.
He kissed her.
She buried her head in his shoulder. He loved the warm feel of her cheek there.
He looked down at her to see that she had her head turned so that she could see the screen out of one eye.
He was amazed at the look on her face. Not fear. Not revulsion.
Hunger.
It turned to lust as she gazed at him. He was afraid, so he did the only thing he could do.
He kissed her.
Character sketch
Clouds loomed over yet another frigid night in Beensville. Sara hated the cold weather. Coming back for the weekend had been a mistake.
She watched the faces around the fire. All smiling and laughing. A few were shivering in the cold weather. The girls all gossiped about other people they had known from high school. They snuggled closer to their boyfriends, planning their futures together.
Sara saw all these faces and felt lonely. She had been so close to these girls for so long. They had passed notes, they had fought over boyfriends, they had fallen asleep on hard floors together many times. Yet, Sara didn't belong here anymore.
She had always longed to leave her hometown, as had many of these girls, and Sara had been the only one to get away.
Staring into the fire, she considered the cost of her dreams. The people she would have to leave behind.
She would leave them all to get away to the sunshine.
She watched the faces around the fire. All smiling and laughing. A few were shivering in the cold weather. The girls all gossiped about other people they had known from high school. They snuggled closer to their boyfriends, planning their futures together.
Sara saw all these faces and felt lonely. She had been so close to these girls for so long. They had passed notes, they had fought over boyfriends, they had fallen asleep on hard floors together many times. Yet, Sara didn't belong here anymore.
She had always longed to leave her hometown, as had many of these girls, and Sara had been the only one to get away.
Staring into the fire, she considered the cost of her dreams. The people she would have to leave behind.
She would leave them all to get away to the sunshine.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Bat is a lesbian donkey
My roommate is standing on a box singing into a lampshade about being a transgender woman-loving donkey who tried to use flowers as a fake penis.
Sometimes, life gives you moments that are so surreal even your imagination couldn't come up with them.
This is one of them.
Sometimes, life gives you moments that are so surreal even your imagination couldn't come up with them.
This is one of them.
Monday, October 1, 2012
D.I.Y.
I have always loved taking something useless, outdated, or broken and turning it into something new and beautiful.
Luckily (or perhaps unluckily) Bat shares my passion for personalization. Our apartment is filled with paint samples, old magazines, knicks knacks,and pieces of art made by both of us. Her sharpie drawings are pinned to the walls haphazardly. Our fridge is topped by a two foot long papier mache bat I made in a high school art class. It may be cluttered, but it is clear to anyone entering our apartment who lives there.
That's what I love the most about DIY culture. I can make ANYTHING my own. Whether it is by putting googly eyes all over our tv or by extensively collaging my bookshelf, I can make just about anything reflect my personality.
That is what I love about zine making. I can mix my writing and my love of decorating things. I can make it so that when someone looks at one of my zines they instantly see my style. It's an expression of me.
Luckily (or perhaps unluckily) Bat shares my passion for personalization. Our apartment is filled with paint samples, old magazines, knicks knacks,and pieces of art made by both of us. Her sharpie drawings are pinned to the walls haphazardly. Our fridge is topped by a two foot long papier mache bat I made in a high school art class. It may be cluttered, but it is clear to anyone entering our apartment who lives there.
That's what I love the most about DIY culture. I can make ANYTHING my own. Whether it is by putting googly eyes all over our tv or by extensively collaging my bookshelf, I can make just about anything reflect my personality.
That is what I love about zine making. I can mix my writing and my love of decorating things. I can make it so that when someone looks at one of my zines they instantly see my style. It's an expression of me.
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