Saturday, April 16, 2011

Candles

I'm beginning to see the light

Sometimes, I don't know what to say, so I listen to music and let it do all the talking.

But sometimes it's not enough. I just mix the melodies in my head until all I hear is madness

Tonight, it's this thrown in with some closure:

Saturday, April 2, 2011

My Pretty Little Angel

On a less mushy-romantic note than the title would suggest, I'm taking a study/eating/discussing college options break to write. I start to get this itch, with the only adrenaline that seems to run through me nowadays, when I start focusing too much on school or just sit around all day. That has become my life for the most part anyway.

It's gotten to the point where I spend so much energy on school that I have no more energy left to sit here and type about some huge issue like the crisis in Lybia or Japan, let alone the divisions forming in our own country.

That is such a superficial list. I just listed millions of casualties, decades of hate, and a possible 2nd civil war in the same sentence like what I ate for breakfast, which was an English muffin and peanut butter bar.

It's true, contentedness is the biggest cause of writer's block. I've been strangely happy lately. Not in an over-zealous way, but in some odd healthy thing that doesn't end with me crying my eyes out and yelling at everyone around me.

My grades are improving, somehow, as well as the sky around me. The snow should melt by Monday and maybe even some sunshine will show through. Summer's on the tip of my tongue, as well as freedom. Freshmen year is my last chance to make mistakes, as dumb as that sounds, 10th and 11th grade seem to be the biggest college factors in high school GPA range. That doesn't even factor in how many SAT prep course I'm going to take over the next two years.

But, when it comes down to it, I feel the touches of freedom, teenage restlessness, or sleeplessness. Those three words, or four if you take out contractions, are not what you'd think. I don't care. Through all of the mechanical work and exhaustion I still have this naiive childish view of the world. I still want love and happiness and still want to move to the ocean one day and write music all day.

So basically I'm on this fast-track future of hard work and stress for the rest of my life, but I can't shake who I am. I can't leave my music, my poems, or my heart as simple childish past times. They're part of who I am. Maybe it's like that glory and final paradise hope of blue collar working all those Springsteen songs are about. Maybe I'm just full of shit.

But it comes down to the point where I either sell out, and focus on books from now on, or take on the impossible task of balancing everything. Tonight there is a light in my heart, and it reminds me that I will never compromise who I am. I will never forget my music or my writing or my love. That will always be me. I can't let go, I refuse.

Song of the Day: "Stall Me" Panic! at the Disco. Sexy, refreshing, energetic. Sounds like Spring to me.