Well, I'm making the post now, just because I want to be in a better mood.
First off we have something Blue and postively delicious. And is that Marlyn Manson I see? Yeah, please no. That's my limit of crazy men adoration. I don't know, maybe my color pallette is a little strange, but there's something mesmerizing about the drama and fit of the dress. Plus, I'm so pale the dead bride look would be perfect
Second, is the Lacy Bride (on the left, I have no idea how to get the pictures below the text), standing as something old from the Victorian Era. It's about the drama and mermaid fit for me. I do adore it.
The third is my something new. I really do adore the red dress. It's just totally beautiful, so formal and almost gothic romantic. I'm in love with the Red Hot Brides website I found it on, too.
The fourth is the gothic uber formal black dress. And between the drama and the plain irony of wearing a black dress is appealing to me. Ma famille would not approve.
The last is something more simple, but really quite pretty. The one shoulder embelishment is very pretty, along with the sweetheart neckline. Tres belle!
Well, that's enough dreaming for one day. I'm off to do some last minute homework. Of course.
So take your tears, put 'em on ice cause I swear I'd burn the city down to show you the light
As much as I love time off from school, it only makes me realize how dependent I am on mon copain. This entire weekend has been fine, though I've been entirely alone, my friends not seeming to want to do anything together, so I'm just sitting here wishing I had any idea how he was doing. My sanity slips away when were apart a little too long.
I didn't hear from him yesterday, but distracted myself by watching the Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame Concert. Bruce Springsteen always manages to put me in a good mood. Ma mere and I sang along to Born to Run, and I felt ok.
And then I woke up this morning, watched Say Yes to the Dress, which is really quite amusing. Hmmm. I need to make a dream wedding dress post, which is only evidence of this whole hopeless romantic thing. I've always wanted to wear Helena's dress in the My Chemical Romance video. Or just jeans and t-shirt
Ugh, ADHD is kicking in.
Anyway, I decided to look in the Mirror, and that friggin thing just reflected another disgusting reflection and this one sent me over the edge. First came the utter frustration, and then the let down. I'm so tired of this body.
On top of that, there's this kid I've been helping out. I asked the girl he likes out for him, gave him advice, comforted him when she rejected him, basically playing mommy/girl who can be used. My overall sweet, nice to everyone personality makes me a prime target for being used. It's happened before and will happen again. Well, he decides to go and tell me I'm unattractive and ugly.
I'm so done with being nice to everyone, helping everyone. It's gotten me nowhere. Men will always use me. They'll always think of me as the ugly girl that can help them, whether its for some confidence or to make their girlfriend jealous. Really, I'm done. I've tried my entire life to be someone that's good and loving, but it's only broken my heart ten times over. I never cared much about the kid, but it hurts nonetheless.
In my self-loathing meltdown, my mother told me that I was just as vain as the other douchebags that are referred to as peers, if I hated myself just because of they way I look. And it's true. That's where the insecurity comes from. And I think it's time for a major self re-evaluation. I will not care about how I look anymore. I'm in love with a sweet boy, and I'm cared for. I won't be greedy and ask for beauty. I will not shrink to the level of my peers and judge others only on appearance.
But I've concluded that being in love doesn't solve the problems that I have with myself. Those can only be solved by my soul. No one else can save me now. But I do miss him badly.
I'm a hopeless romantic type, always wanted love, whether it was real or not, and I may not be totally convinced of its existence. But then again, there is definitely something in my heart, sitting there, making my heart beat faster, my lips smile harder, my cheeks blush redder than ever. Not normal.
Just as I was typing that, mon copain texted me, and I'm reminded of what I'm getting myself into, and then by the always lovely Keltie Colleen, the only blogger I follow on this website, I'm reminded about exactly how I will fall so hard and then my heart will shatter.
Hoahshit.
I've taken the entire boring day to let this thought simmer in my brain, and I concluded that, if I can put it in this blog, it'll make it real.
Maybe, just a little tinsy winsy bit, I think I'm in love with mon copain.
Well, that wasn't very confident, but I'm going to take it a day at a time. See how I feel tomorrow. But, i think it'll be the same. Most of all I don't want to be stupid and let this all pass me by or ignore how I feel. Maybe I'll embrace it. And on Tuesday I'll put it into spoken words. Being in love would be nice. I think it'll be a pretty color on me, too.
Well, I think I'm going blind for some reason. My vision is blurring, so I'm gonna stop. That can't be a good sign.
I actually wrote some of "Runs in the Family" (Click the romance novel link on the side) Three cheers for teenage angst. Mood: Oddly Content Song of the Day:
Btw, I have no idea why Lady Gaga, but the rah-rah-ah-ah-ah, roma-roma-ma-ma part keeps getting stuck in my head. GAGA-OO-LA-LA. i WANT YOUR LOVE, LOVE, LOVE, LOVE. I WANT YOUR LOVE.
Yeah, I know it's not Thanksgiving yet, but in the next 48 hours this is the only time I'll have to blog. We're hosting our family Thanksgiving dinner at our place this year. Without giving my entire life's story, my mum worked throughout my entire childhood, so I was left with another babysitter to another. Thus, she never was much of a "Domestic Diva" or "Soccer Mom" and for that I am very proud to have her as ma mere. So she's never learned proper recipes or cooking techniques.
Basically, we're trying to pull the entire household together by tomorrow.
Anyway, today started with it's usual beginning. My alarm clock goes off, B-b-b-b-beep, and I swear mentally, before rolling over and switching it off. Nothing pisses me off more than the sound of my alarm. It's like the devil's calling or something. Then, I roll out of bed, cue the goosebumps, which don't leave till I go to sleep that night, and trudge into the bathroom. Like most bathrooms, the focal point of the room is the mirror. The mirror in that bathroom is known as Common Enemy #1. As I get ready, I simply stare at my reflection, and it stares right back with the same self-loathing, insecure countenance. My insecurity has just turned into frustration. That mirror has never reflected back something I like. Never anything the least bit attractive. No matter what I'm wearing, or how my makeup is, or how I do my hair, I can't get it right. The problem: I'm ugly. My appearance is cringe worthy, and every time I look in that goddamn mirror the reflection, no matter how happy it had been a second ago, frowns back at me, eyes flickering away.
It's not an unusual affliction for a teen, especially a girl with masochistic tendencies. But with all my immaturity I feel as though my appearance is one of the worst. I'm short, peaking at 5 feet exactly. I've got a long torso, broad shoulder's but a generally petite build. Except for my thighs and ass. I've got a quite disproportionate pear shaped figure. Affectionately, I could be described as Bootylicious, cept my butt isn't that toned. And my face is just...ugh, not bothering to describe anymore so none of the readers lose their lunch.
And then by the end of the day, I'm sitting on mon copain's lap trying to come up with a decent script for a group project we're in. His hands keep me tightly locked down from falling and he lets a hand run up and down my back, occasionally messing with the clasp of my bra. Why this makes me smile? Am I a creep? No, I've concluded, I just love to be held, touched, loved. Love can't describe the way my heart warms when he holds my hand or hugs me, tells me I'm pretty or hot, and all those thoughts, and all the tears of self-hatred I've cried, are evaporated. He makes me whole, and alive, and right, and happy. And I don't care what they say, all the kids who call me emo *gasp* and make fun of me for dating him. It's okay. And then I go home to a cold house where none of my friends are there to make it okay again. He's not there. And often doesn't text. So I sit there and begin to fall back down from my high. It all comes crashing down.
And then, I'll remember when he tells me not to doubt myself. How he worries about me, about the episode on Halloween. And that feeling of warmth creeps up my spine, and safety locks me in again.
Today's post is just my reminder to thank the ones you love or like or even hate just so you have someone to focus your anger on. For helping you, caring for you, making you happy, loving you, or just being them. Don't be an idiot and go over to your copine/copain and say "On Thanksgiving I'm thankful for you!" Maybe just an 'I'm glad I have you.' Or even an 'I love you' if your lucky. Just a hint to let them know.
Second grade essay style: I'm thankful for my friends, who I'm not going to list, my crazed family, my Big Fat Italian Family, except no ones fat, and mon copain. I really think I may be falling. And maybe he'll be there to catch me.
-End cheese-
Happy Thanksgiving, and if your reading this, thank you very, very much!
Today we had our little PRMS winter orchestra concert. 'Twas quite enjoyable, and I must add, that it's really becoming a love of mine to perform. With the lights brightening and all attention focused for forty minutes, just on the music, it's something that I've come to find really fun. The music we play is often cliche and cheesy, we played a rendition of "The Locomotion," but if you can just set yourself in the right mindset, you can connect to the song. If there's no emotion, no connection, there's no music in my mind. I've played Old McDonald and Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star countless times, and they can sound beautiful if you open your mind. The essence of many artistic works have been lost from narrowmindedness and pretentious mindsets.
If you open your mind, and peak your head out of your little bubble every once in while, you'll notice alot more, understand alot more, and grow to appreciate things that you normally would've scoffed at.
Lecture, lecture, lecture, blah, blah, blah...
School was like always. Nothing remarkable happened. We had the most annoying French substitute, and, really, what's the point of a foreign language substitute that can barely speak English properly? Maybe I shouldn't be the one to talk but...this woman was clueless. On the upside I was free to say all the dirty french words I know.
hehehehe
Anyway, the highlight of my day was a random woman coming over at the end of the concert and telling me that I had played flawlessly and that she had been watching. It means something special to me when people notice how I play (I sit first chair, so it's also kind of hard NOT to notic). So I thank you random woman for making my day.
Song of the Day: Sadly, the video isn't on YouTube yet. Watch on Paramore.net
So I was reminded that the AMA's were on last night, by a friend of mine. I proceed to run downstairs like a maniac, in hopes to see Adam Lambert's performance. I followed Adam through the entire American Idol season, through his audition and all the way to America's fail of chosing Kris Allen over him. One of my friends and I saw him on the American Idols tour and screamed out heads off. Basically, I love everything about him, from his eccentric style to the insane notes he can hit.
Anyway, I turn on the Television to find A naked appearing Lady Gaga with Christmas lights around her chest, breaking bottles on a flaming piano.
And I didn't think it could get much wierder.
Then, today, after I'd fallen asleep before Adam's performance and not gotten a chance to watch my recording, American Idol Tour Friend texts me, or me cap rapes me, informing me of Adam's scandolous performance. My first thought is psshh 'It's Adam! What else did you expect?'. Until I saw him force a dancer's head to his crotch to demonstrate a blow job and then kiss another man, very intimately, I may add. Yes, I wanted that kiss.
-End Fantasy-
Anwho, it was enthusing, and, yeah, I was frigging entertained. He wasn't lying with his pledge to entertain us, even if it was a little risque, and so bravo, bravo Mr. Lambert. You'll never stopped entertaining the crap out of me. May you continue getting blow jobs and kissing straight men, even if it's just for my entertainment.
Oh, Do you know what you got into? Can you handle what I'm bout to do? Cause it's bout to get rough for you. I'm here for your entertainment!
Couldn't resist.
That put a nice end on my school day. Which was actually not half bad. I'm off to do geometry homework and a rehersal. Enjoy if I can get the link to work! Though I doubt I will
Song of the Day: Are We The Waiting -Green Day http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JxQtafrR6Cw
I decided to make an impromptu entry just because I felt the need to get some crap out of my mind. And because I don't won't to right useless, cryptic poems for English so the teacher doesn't get worried and call guidance. Or make suggestive comments about me and mon compain again.
Shudder
Anyway, my friend had mentioned that she was tired of waiting. And it occurred to me that, hell, I'm tired of waiting. Waiting for dinner, waiting for sleep, waiting for happiness, for love, for life, for death. The first is the most important out of all of these, by the way. But why wait? Why keep complaining, waiting, wanting? I know what my friend is going through, and she can't exactly go buy what she's waiting for in a store, but instead of sitting here, wallowing in self-pity, try taking life by the reigns.
And maybe instead of waiting until ten thiry tonight for mon compain to text me, which is some odd way is always the highlight of my day, I'll text him at nine-thirty, so I don't end up falling asleep in History. Though it's so boring I could just close my eyes and drift away....NO. I shall stay awake tomorrow. I did write one poem for school though. It's oddly motivational for my taste, but maybe someone will stumble upon this and need it. Who knows.
So I’ll sit here and wait Feel the time tick by With an ever-present fear In my mind And maybe it’s too late To fix the broken But I’ll change the fate And end these filthy crimes.
I’ll be the one to sew up your heart With my precise needle Of a well practiced art. I’ll clean your tear stains up With a string of sweet words To soothe all these pains away.
Caught in the middle Unable to break free. I’ll comfort her a little While he just wants a word from me Diagnosed with a good case of drama They fight like magnets of orientation the same The cure’s laced with compromise So, don’t place the blame
Together, let’s stand Against every break, rip, and tear. As I’ll give you my hand. Don’t hide from the shame We’ll rise up the best we can As pieces of life’s game.
So if you're reading this, for whatever reason, you may or may not know anything about me. I'm going to attempt not to directly characterize too much. Attempt is the key word in that sentence. You can love me, hate me, be completely and utterly indifferent and/or apathetic towards my existance, and I will care. Because I'm human and have that deep, scary yearning to be accepted. So go ahead, judge away!
Just so you know that you're not reading about a forty-year old man, I'll give you the basics
I'm Cirque, which should be somewhere on this page, I'm 14, just legal for blogspot. I live in the suburbs of Pittsburgh, which is...bland. It's cold and grey and decaying outside. Ew. Anyway, I'm currently in a relationship with a lovely boy who's name shall be anonymous. I shall refer to him as mon compain. My boyfriend. There are no French accents on this computer so I will try to resist butchering the language. Though it is fun to curse. Merde!
Immature, I know
Well, I'll try to post here a lot, and plan on doing a favorites post soon. Favorite food, music, dino brand all that good stuff. Dinosaurs should be cereal brands. T-Rex Toast Crunch. Yum.
Direct Characterization: I'm random. Not surprising.
Well this was an epic fail first start, but, hey, we all have to start somewhere.
Xoxo Love for Always.
By the way, I'm a violinist *ahem* Concert Mistress for the middle school orchestra - brag- so I found the heart strings title fitting.
