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[28 Aug 2004|06:10pm] |
Love is something I've been thinking about often, lately. I don't know what triggered it, but I can't help but recall all the times I've told others that I love no one, and never have. Perhaps it's my conscience that's bringing all this up.
When asked if I loved my family, I would respond with a snide, "well. Isn't it mandatory?" and when someone inquired as to why I refer to my dad as "father," my reply would be: "because anything else would be considered a term of endearment." Then, of course, when asked if I loved anyone romantically, I would give the typical too-good-for-that-highschool-dating-bullshit line.
I remember telling Mr. Holiday, my school counselor, about all of this. (Keep in mind that this was when I was severely discontent and my concept of reality was incredibly skewed; think Truman-Show-esque). He said that, since I had no significant attachment to people to keep me grounded, I have no concrete attachment to reality.
I don't know what I was thinking back then, to have openly said such things. The only thing I can do now is write it off as a more ungrateful, dispassionate phase in my life. Yes, I love my family, and I know for certs that I have loved others. I think that with love comes two other things to nourish it and keep it strong: hope for the future, and faith in the present. Without those things to sustain it, love withers.
At the time, I had no faith in the present, and thus no hope for the future. Those empty statements and false revelations occurred after months and months of abrupt, startling, uncontrollable failure -- academically, mentally -- in nearly every manner one can think of, I failed. I collapsed and broke down. And this is why, in my attempts to piece myself together again, my heart was nowhere to be found; this is why I was left a puzzle incomplete.
It's back, now. I didn't find my heart, but rather, someone who sparked its regrowth. I am infused with the fantastic feeling of love for family, for others, for life, along with a desire for a fresh beginning.
I'll prove them wrong; I can do this. I can, and I will, succeed.
___________________________________________
This is my 499th entry. As stated before, I am looking for a fresh beginning.
Therefor I shall urge you all to say goodbye to ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) _uncouth, and I direct you to my new journal: letsget_nucular. Add as you wish. I hope to see you all there.
Farewell, journal. You have served me well.
Much love and muttering,
--Kate/letsget_nucular.
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[26 Aug 2004|10:57pm] |
Dear School Year,
Please. Let's get this over with and start already. The wait is making me so painfully antsy that I may even start crossing the days as they pass on my Incredible Hulk calendar; I have resisted temptation thus far, so as not to seem like too much of a nerd. O Capital Highschool! Give me strength to withstand this blasted gap of time that seems to be ticking in such a sluggish manner.
Signed,
-Kate.
[POST.SCRIPT]:Thank you for putting the wee sister in Mr. Sparks' Pre-IB English class. I appreciate it muchly.
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[25 Aug 2004|09:02pm] |
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I just sat through an hour long conversation (between the wee sis and her friend) about farts. Those kids really know how to procrastinate.
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[24 Aug 2004|12:35pm] |
It's very, very difficult to succeed when your own father has no problem verbalizing his expectance for you to fail.
[EDIT]:It's likely that I won't be able to attend the Pixies concert. My favorite still-together-band in the world. Son of a bitch.
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| Edited for explicit content and name asterisk'd for confidentiality. |
[19 Aug 2004|11:02pm] |
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mood |
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Jonathan just left a message on my phone, saying "I love you like **** loves her vibrator."
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[19 Aug 2004|11:47am] |
Dream:
I was a child, enrolled in a school full of other little children. Our teacher died. Before she died, she showed us all a giant treasure of golden skulls and just two blood red ones, and we built a ship underground in the back room and put them all in a chest, then covered it up so no one could find them. My mother replaced the teacher. I went back one day to find that she had stolen the skulls to impress a man, so she decided to take me out into the desert and leave me there to die. We drove and drove and drove. We stopped at a gas station and I asked if she could buy me a pack of cigarettes since I was about to die, so she said yes and I picked out a pack of American Spirit blacks. While in the store, she ran into a man that resembled my father and he related the game of poker to the grand scheme of all our lives; from this conversation, she decided not to kill me. On the way back she tried my cigarettes and started yelling about how gross and expensive they were and how I should have gotten Basic Ultra Light 100's instead.
The End.
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[18 Aug 2004|02:05pm] |
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music |
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Jeff Buckley -- Hallelujah. |
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I'm feeling very romantic and smilie and kind of violent right now. Passionate, is the word. I need a lady.
I keep forming these ridiculous crushes on girls I don't know and most likely will never know. (Unless I actually get up the nerve to talk to them, but that takes the zing out of things. I think I'm more in love with my imagination than anyone at all). This water is slipping down my throat and I'm thinking of one person in particular; some of you know her. I'm not the revealing type, and it's better this way. She's beautiful, though. I think of her on rare occasions. It's not an obsession, more of an obscure whimsy that hits me every once in a while. It's nice.
I wish I had room in my life for devotion. To concentrate on just one thing, or everything at once; one or the other, I'm an all-or-nothing type of girl. I want a child. I don't know what's wrong with me, to want to get pregnant and have a baby and raise a baby at this age, but how exactly can that be wrong? To create life? I can think of two girls in particular, my age, who are pregnant at this very moment. I've been afraid to talk to them, but it intrigues me. Similar to my small almost-crushes, I just sit back and imagine our interactions. I want to tell them how much I love what they're doing, how I hope they're successful, that it's wonderful and though regret is possible it's not necessary. There should be more room in this world for those people. Some breathing space so it's not an unceasing state of panicpanicpanic.
People will always look down on me. I know this. I know this upcoming year will be full of ridicule and looks of shock and disbelief, that I actually have the nerve to go back to the site of my failure and try again. It must be possible to have a fresh start in a familiar place, but I have never thought of it in those terms. I crash, move on to somewhere else, crash again, move on to yet another place. Perhaps Capital is the best thing for me. To prevail has lain dormant in my nature for the past two, three years, but even if that ability is activated, I wish to remain invisible and anonymous. Impossible.
My pride is trite and selective.
I don't expect to find anyone, not soon. I have a reputation. A lot of people know me, if not in person, at least by sight or word of mouth. That alone revokes attraction. Would I desire someone exactly like myself, or entirely different? Which would you choose? I am enticed by mystery, notoriety, and complete and absolute tenure over my interest -- an ownership that transcends fidelity. Fidelity does not matter. Above all, constant revitalization is what is important. Nothing is more fantastic than the first couple weeks of a relationship and I would want that feeling to last throughout. I still want this. But, perhaps I should take my educational situation as a sign and look into the old, make it new again. It will be considered. I'll see how things go.
I'm in no position to point the accusatory finger at life. Look at me, making demands of how things should be, or could be, when things obviously and irrevocably are. I'm forced to make do.
I miss things. I'm excited, in a gentle way. And I'm still smiling.
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[17 Aug 2004|03:58pm] |
Marley-Man: I tell jokes.
Marley-Man: But I do not joke about wanting to do evil.
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[17 Aug 2004|11:36am] |
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I'm going to CHS this fall.
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[16 Aug 2004|01:46pm] |
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music |
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The Pixies -- Tony's Theme |
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Golly. Parents make it so hard for me to be a stylishly vagabonish miscreant like all the other teenagers. At this age, I'm supposed to be permitted to spend the night at a friend's house only to do something else entirely without their permission, but I'm not even allowed out in the first place. OMGolly, SO WACK.
Also, there's nothing to eat in this house aside from a giant ten-foot salmon that Mr. Nice Guy caught yesterday. I should turn them in for abuse.
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| Crossposted. |
[16 Aug 2004|12:29am] |
I scoured ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif) howto and, for the first time, it FAILED me. I know my objective is possible. So, perhaps you fine people can help me...
How would one go about altering the number of entries displayed on a journal/friend's page? For example, changing the twenty entries per page to ten.
Help. Please? Thanks.
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[13 Aug 2004|03:34pm] |
Dear Aunt Flow,
You stood me up again. It's been fifteen days since we were scheduled to check into the red roof inn, and I've not received any flowers, phone calls or anything. All I have left to remember you by are the occasional bouts of cramps, mood swings, bloating and chocolate binges.
Now, really. That's just rude.
You come and go as you please, sometimes walking out for five months at a time without warning. I mean, the first three years were fantastic, an absolute dream, but after that you just got flaky. I miss you so. I just wish you would come home in a more punctual manner.
Am I an embarrassment to you?
Was it something I did?
Was it something I said?
A dozen times a year isn't so bad, is it?
Please, darling. It's not you, it's me. Things don't have to end this way.
Come home.
Much love and for seriouslys,
-Katoris.
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[12 Aug 2004|06:19pm] |
"Slut" has got to be my least favorite word out of the entire English language.
And yours?
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[12 Aug 2004|02:51pm] |
I lost my voice, I have cramps, a fever and I hate my wee sis + everything, ever. I just sneezed with such force that I banged my head against the monitor. I am absolutely miserable.
[EDIT]:Thank Dude for cream of chicken + mushroom soup.
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[10 Aug 2004|12:59am] |
So, I was about to go to sleep last night and I had this idea...
You remember that one movie, The Ring/Ringu? Instead of making those tapes and giving them to friends and people you know, why not enforce capitol punishment and send the tapes there to be viewed by those on death row? Then destroy all copies so as to reduce the risk of innocents getting a hold of them, except save one to be used for assassination purposes. That would be a rad way to kill someone.
Anyway. I'm feeling slightly upset.
I've been sleeping down in the basement since it's been so F-ing hot as of late, and I forgot to take my bra off when I was changing upstairs in my room. So I take it off and hide it somewhere because I'm lazy. I CAN'T REMEMBER WHERE I PUT IT. That was a week ago. It was my favorite bra, too. My preciousss.
For seriouslys.
Summer leaves me nothing to say.
[EDIT]:updown_grade.
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[08 Aug 2004|12:17pm] |
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Because I am fortunate enough to live in Olympia, I was able to attend ( Homo-a-Go-Go ).
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[03 Aug 2004|10:28pm] |
I went and saw Napolean Dynamite earlier this evening by myself. Ever get the feeling that people will laugh at something that is so blatantly unfunny just so they can have the bragging rights of "understanding" the brand-spankin'-newest trend of humor? The only good part was the disco scene, anyway.
Then, I walked home listening to the most recent addition to my cassette tape collection: Joan Jett & the Blackhearts' self-titled. Whoop.
Anyway, we're going to try this Bri thing again. Seeing as how Oldschool was up in flames the last party we attempted to plan.
TOMORROW, AUGUST-4-2004, VIC'S PIZZARIA, 7:00PM.
Be there, or be some form of rectangle.
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[01 Aug 2004|12:37am] |
I LOST MY CELLPHONE. LIFE IS A BIZNATCH THAT I WANT TO SLAP.
[EDIT]:Nevermind. It has been found.
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[30 Jul 2004|08:58pm] |
Dear Olympian friends --
SATURDAY, JULY 31ST:
Bri is getting back from vacation and I'm organizing a lunch for her so she can see everyone again. 1:00PM at Oldschool Pizzaria.
Please be there, and bring whomever you wish. Everyone is invited.
Much love and for seriouslys,
-Kate.
[P.S]:If anyone has any questions, I can be reached at 943-9184 OR 951-4717. Mwah.
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