...everything that happens from now on...

she reflected.
a secret on her mind.
it made the world so much brighter.
livelier.
and she smiled.
the kind of smile that lights up a room.
illuminates the darkest corner.
is contagious.
the kind of smile that forces you to look past the eyes.
into the soul.
and see the beauty within.

she smiled.

*********************************************

i've had bon iver's re: stacks on repeat. for what seems like months now.


so transparent. so much soul. so much angst. and yet. there's so much resolve. so easy to relate. in one lyrically sparse song. i wish i knew what made someone push repeat 40x in a row.

i'm learning patience. with everything. its frustrating.

but, i'm moving forward.

inch

by

inch.

i'm moving forward.



and now if all your love was wasted. well then who the hell was i?

you're a beautiful soul

she said she needed out.

a fresh start.

she said he gets her.

and thats all she needed

to leave this town behind...

*************************

i've been writing. a lot. more than i probably should considering the myriad of other things that i really should be doing.

its been purging. its been painful. its been quite the exacavation. but the end product? satisfying.

what sparked this random occurence of musing?

perhaps its watching a house and a dog for some friends. a house rife with recent memories. good. and bad.

perhaps its this reticent mood. locking myself away from the world for hours. with a silent dog as my companion. and one. glorious. piano.

perhaps its the simple nostalgia that a porch swing brings... the breeze of a storm blowing in. the scent of summer air.

or perhaps i've just shoved too many things in my "deal-with-this-later" box. and trying to stuff one more thing inside made the contents explode. unexpectedly. all over.

i'll post lyrics (and hopefully recordings) soon. i havent actually written the lyrics yet. crazy, i know. first time i've poured my heart into the melody and NOT into the words. i think i like this way better.

i'll leave you with three songs. i've been ruminating on. mulling them over and over. wrestling. and beating myself into a bloody mess...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I483tB12SyE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v6Y8euc1G9A

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dCnI3Xjjvzo

I was starting to shake
From the days I’ve been up
There’s a lot on my plate
And the ones I loved stopped answering
They left me to find my self
In my own hate
I work all alone with a cynical taste
And the day I get out
Is the day I’ll be made

...i buried myself alive on the inside...

I've been listening to a lot of the used recently.

and by a lot i mean.

nonstop.

it's been quite the aggression/tension/frustration releaser. seriously. there is nothing like blasting a bit of burt mckracken in the car while flying down the road...with the windows down and the sunroof open.

nothing.

throw in a little bit of Story of the Year (SOTY), a dash of Finch, a touch of old school LP, a pinch of AFI, and a WHOLE LOT of Brand New... and bam. you got yourself the makings of a mini moshpit for one.

playlists like these remind me of long runs (when my knees could still take it...). Beating my body to a (metaphorical) bloody pulp and loving every minute of it. bloody toes and all... there's something to be said about the endorphins that are released during the most intense workout. they really do make you happy.


and so does music like this. nothing gets me more fired up than an intense scream. and a bass line that drives. a guitar riff thats mirrors that inner chord progression of my heart.

ahh.

unfortunately, i dont see things changing for me any time soon... even with all the music therapy. so if you'll excuse me (as i lace up my sneakers and blast my iPod)... it's time to go beat my body. and break something. ...



parental advisory for some mature content ...

also. get ready to rock out...

maybe memories - the used

hit the floor - linkin park

letters to you - finch

medicate - AFI

the ghost of you and i - story of the year

three simple words - finch

slit your own throat - the used

the black swan - story of the year

forgotten - linkin park

gasoline - brand new

liar liar (burn in hell) - the used

we dont care anymore - story of the year

and the hero will drown - story of the year

meant to die - the used

given up - linkin park

in the shadows - story of the year

a box full of sharp objects - the used

lonely, lonely - taking back sunday

the taste of ink - the used

choose your fate - story of the year

wake the dead - the used

error: operator - taking back sunday

razorblades - story of the year

the best of me - the used

cannonball - story of the year

i'm a fake - the used

what it is to burn - finch

blood on my hands - the used

paper cut - linkin park

take me back - story of the year

untitled - finch

buried myself alive - the used

"is this my fate?" he asked them - story of the year

this celluloid dream - AFI

post script - finch listening - the used

paper airplanes (makeshift wings) - AFI

men are all the same - the used

place for my head - linkin park

sink - brand new

darling i want to destroy you - AFI

Blue and Yellow - the used



...i guess its ok i puked the day away...

Love More...

...hate less. simple? sure. in theory.[1] within the last few weeks i've had a few out of body experiences. and no, i dont mean in the weird sense of "oh-hey!-im-floating-above-my-body-this-is-creepy-cool-im-a-ghost" sorta thing. i mean i hear what i'm saying and i cant believe those words would come out of my mouth in a million years. ever. but they did. i mean. my mouth was moving. it had my voice. it was me. right? dont be silly. of course it was me. i can take ownership for those words. so what, you may ask, was i saying?[2] ha. i wish i could remember. i'm sure it would be a much better post if i could give you the play-by-play, he-said-she-said, nitty-gritty details. but i cant.[3] what i CAN remember is the mood with which i was in. crabby-pants.[4] apparently i had gotten up that morning, and instead of reaching for my jeans, i reached for and put on my crabby pants. so frustrating. because with these becomes my "negative nancy" attitude... where everything comes out as word vomit.[5] i may end up picking apart every little thing thats occuring. voice what exactly is wrong at that moment with one of the three L's.[6] or just something eyore-esque. in other words. [ie]. complaining. or. just down right hating. (which ironically just makes me be disgusted with myself. and/or further deepen a self-loathing...) i think the last few weeks i've been wearing these pants a bit more. not because they go with everything... and not because they're comfortable. i think quite simply because i find them as an accessible diversion.[7] its easier to focus on whats wrong with everything ELSE around me. than having to deal with whats wrong with me.[8] but these word vomit moments preceed (almost simultaneous depending on the situation) an ad naseum apologetic intervention. flash-bang. and i've been pretty angsty these past few weeks. more so than normal... and i realized. i feel hopeless. as in. i feel chained. stifled. suffocated. quelched. as if i were running in circles in a room that was boxed up and stuffed into a plastic bag. tied to a wall. a butterfly in a jar. if all this angst. stress. unhappiness. if i at least had something to show for it. but. it never seems as though i do. and of course i'll have another week at lab meeting where i have no slides to show for my work during the week. because NOTHING IS WORKING!!!! #@$)(*#)(*@#$*@($&(&#@ [9] so i sit in lab. late at night. knowing that its all for naught. roar [10] perhaps all this angst will move from word vomit to musing. at least then i'd possibly have something to show for all the stress, angst, frustration... ...heartache... 1. this entry penned while listening to Love More - Sharon Van Etten http://tinyurl.com/4gpe9cs 2. i realize that you may not really care. if thats the case, then stop reading. if its not, then play along! makes things MUCH more fun. i promise :) 3. this does not mean i have turned in my girl card. yes, we do remember lots of details. but we also forget a lot of things. 4. not to be confused with my dance pants, which are, of course, always on. 5. word vomit: (noun) 1. a jumble of words; 2. something completely disgusting. In THIS case, please refer to definition #2. 6. Life, Love, and Lab 7. i hope you realize that i'm still talking metaphorically. however, i also realize that you can over use one to the point of - wah wah - and i dont want to beat a dead horse. so i'll drop it. starting. now. 8. the good ol' finger point. blame shift. focus on the splinter in your neighbor's eye. etc. etc. 9. but i wont tell you how i really feel. 10. not to be confused with Rawr. rawr = i love you in dinosaur. roar = anger. think T-rex eating a stegosaurus. i apologize for the graphic-ness. O_o

...shattered surface so imperfect is all that you believe...

::sigh:: it's january.

i hate this month.

i always have.

and i believe i always will.

just when i dig myself out. i slip back in.

the month in one playlist (i'm pretty sure this will be on repeat... these songs already pretty much have. just actually put them all together...):

1. The Funeral - Band of Horses
2. Skin Cloud - Dog and Panther
3. Poison & Wine - The Civil Wars
4. The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot - Brand New
5. Speak to Me Gently - Future of Forestry
6. Slow Show - The National
7. Jesus - Brand New
8. You Are the Moon - The Hush Sound
9. Swans & the Swimming - Iron & Wine
10. Tautou - Brand New
11. Green Gloves - The National
13. Southern Knell - Lovedrug
14. The Sun and the Moon - Mae
15. Pressing Flowers - The Civil Wars
16. Start a War - The National
17. Go - The Civil Wars
18. Hurry Hurry - Dog and Panther
19. Daisy - Brand New
20. Sanctitatis - Future of Forestry

sorry no links. but youtube = great search engine.

go ahead. procrastinate. i dare you.


...searching the stars in desperate hours... bound to find meaning....

...but im scared ill get scared and try to nail you back down...

...but while you debate half empty or half full....

hey! look at me! 2 posts in one week.

and it's 2am. so this one's gonna be short. as short as can be for one who is overly in love with writing. and talking. and the english language. and well... pretty much anything that deals with words.

*note to self* short.

i broke out my DCFC albums these past few days. (in case you arent acronym saavy: death cab for cutie)

they make me smile.
they remind me of fall.
and much like fall... elicit a shower of memory "leaves" some full of vibrant colors, others a bit faded, dull brown. wrinkled. and sometimes missing pieces where the "faulty cameras in [my] mind" are starting to wear the tape thin...

...listening to DCFC is...

... much like pulling a box of photos off the top shelf of your closet... and you, thinking that of course you dont need a ladder, hatch the brilliant plan that climbing on boxes and precariously perched shelves is perfectly safe. and just when you think you've mastered the jungle gym of a closet- sans ladder- you sneeze from all the dust you've kicked up, and of course it's the worst possible moment. and this is where you realize that: no, you dont have suction cups on your hands or feet... which means yes, you dont have a grip on the box (with your hands) or the shelves (with your toes) and that maybe this wasnt such a great idea after all... and you AND the box tumble backwards contents flying out (of the box, of course), and as you land with a thud... the once ordered pictures begin to rain down all around you...

death cab is like that. a lot like that. i see the albums in my itunes and think, of course i can listen to these... where clicking play is like the climbing the jungle gym closet... and then a line, a lyric, a riff.... the dust induced sneeze ... and i lose grip on the present, and fall back in time with memories flooding me at random. no chronological order. just falling all around me.

somtimes i love that feeling. othertimes i wish i had a helmet to protect from the heaviness of all the thoughts. to sit and ruminate on them. and then pack them back away for the next time i decide to pull the dusty [musical] albums off the shelf. (though music albums are clearly photo albums for me)

and im beginning to learn that even bad memories. those that hurt. the ones that are painful. the ones that make me uncomfortable. the ones i wish i had a helmet for. they are just as good as the glorious ones. they are the all a part of me. without any of them. i wouldnt be me. id be M. or E.

so with that. i bid you adieu. and while laying on my new twin sized bed thinking of things like what sarah said (love is watching someone die... so who's going to watch you die?) i'll eventually drift off to sleep, dreaming... of times past, and those to come, and the gulf between them... much like transatlanticism...

you're dancing 'round on life support with matches and a gun...

things i've noticed:

i have a tendency to be sporatic in writing.
i believe this directly correlates to my mood.
my mood usually correlates with the weather.

therefore i usually only write in this when it seems as though my world is falling apart. when i am beginning the decent towards the pits of hell that only one who knows depression can understand.

when it rains.

but not today. today i am neither high nor low. which is a nice reprieve from the doldrums of being yellow and blue. its amazing how deep fear can root. and just when you think you've gotten every last root... it springs back. like the dandelions my mom used to coax me into pulling from the garden. those stinkin' roots are harder to get than you'd think.

maybe its because i spent a glorious evening in the cold autumn air. standing around bonfires. reminding me of times before with friends of old. thankful to make memories with friends who are new. continually mulling over thoughts. feelings. wishes. all while dancing my pants off in the expanse of a carrboro backyard to booming pop music with no neighbors for miles. it was classy. it was fabulous. it was what i needed....

....until i opened my mouth and said "yes, i'll play and sing on that little stage over there"....

what a ridiculous idea to entertain when it's 43 degrees outside and 1am. these bitty little girl fingers (which are ironically attached to giant man hands) just couldnt hack it. so i play 1.3 songs (not even a half of the second song...) and i punk out to walk away feeling retarded and lame.

thank you for all those who cheered me on. and didnt laugh. i love you. doesnt stop me from being annoyed with myself. dissappointed with myself. i could have done better. i should have done better.

and thats when i realized tonight that i'm seriously, ridiculous, obnoxiously insecure. and i bet you're thinking as you read that last line. what? seriously? the chatter box? the loud one? the crazy-always-has-her-dance-pants-on-one? the "party-in-a-box" one? yeah. the longer i think about things (going on 2hrs here...) the more i realize that the facade i have is the greatest disguise. why? because if i LOOK like an idiot. it's clearly because i meant to. i embellish my ridiculousness so that way my insecurities will remain hidden from penetrating eyes. but. well. im human.

so guess what. im insecure. especially when i suck at something.... and sometimes something directly translates to:
life.
lab.
calling people back.
remembering important things and where i put the post notes with the important things listed on them.

::sigh::

i could keep going, but this post is slowly going down hill... and it's pretty much 4am.

so the song i leave you with is: she's disaster - lovedrug.