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.

If I Was From Paris

Grace Potter and the Nocturnals. "Paris"


Pretty sure that video and song are just sex in music form.

Anyway, midterms are approaching along with a shit load of English...so I really should be working. Oh well. On the upside, I bought a corset to complete my burlesque costume...and few new sweaters and tops. I'm pretty excited. My Burlesque outfit is complete. Now I just have to work out...and not have just eaten a huge meal and photograph it all. I will find somewhere to where it..eventually. Til then I'll keep a closet of seduciton clothing.

Kittehs are lovely.

And a bit of relaxation and care are almost as good as revenge because you realize that after it all, all the pain, insults, embarrassment, you're still the same person you were three months ago.

If I was a man, I'd make my move. If I was a blade, I'd shave you smooth. If I was a judge, I'd break the law. And if I was from Paris, if I was from Paris, I would say ooh la la lalala la la

Peace, Love, and Rock n' Roll

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas and happy holidays to everyone out there. I hope you're all save, and lovely, and warm and happy. And that you always will be.

However, I must self-indulge myself again and post this like every other woman who has had a guy step all over their faces.

YOU OUGHTA KNOW!
Phsychotic ex-girlfriend has stricken again.

I wish you well, I don't really mind, but this..you really oughta know of the mess you left when you went away. I don't want attention. I want you to know.


As numerous women have said before, the first verse of this is freakishly accurate...it's funny how low men go after you leave them. What a shame. She's almost like me, except...completely not good enough for you. shrug.

Growing Up or Going Down?

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.

Peace, Love, and Rock n' Roll.