Vagabond

I've never understood the word strength.

What does it mean to be strong? Because I'm pretty sure whatever the hell it is, it doesn't apply to me.

However, I am a firm believer in strength through music. Maybe it just sounds that way.

I will pull myself out of this, I will not drown, I will not let go. I refuse to let this eat me alive. Or let me eat myself alive.

Peace, Love, and Rock n' Roll

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.

Baby, I Was Born This Way

Okay, so I did just quote a Gaga song that sounds like a Madonna song and is quite pop-ish, but you know what? That's irrelevant. It's a good song. And catchy. And it might be the anthem of 2011.

And you know what else?

I've been beaten down, horrified of myself, the rumors that haunt me like a curse, the curse of my past....the curse of him. Though they don't mean a thing to me know, those people still manage to give me shit via the rumor mill.

I'm hoping internally one of you are reading this. And I will not give you the satisfaction of watching me try to defend myself helplessly from the hell hole that is high school. I can sit here and type vehemently that all of these rumors are lies and that I am better than that, but it would be a waste of internet space. Of course, basically everything I say on the internet is a waste. Ah, well. But I won't give them the satisfaction of anything.

Because, when it comes down to it, all I've got are my real friends, the one's who know the rumors aren't true, and everyone else can go suck cow nipples.

I could also sit here and tell you that I don't feel any of these attacks. I feel every word whispered about me behind my back, and every glare I get. And, truthfully, it's not often about me.

My point is the following: I've gotten this far. I've been to hell and back. And there is no way I'm going back there. I've made it through. And he will never, ever, ever win. I will not regret, because it never happened. He will never, ever, win, as long as I have my strength.

Don't be a drag, just be a Queen.

Peace, Love, and Rock n' Roll

Song of the Day: *You guessed it* "Born this Way" Lady Gaga