A small experiment...

I decided to see how long it would take for 3 of my "friends" to text me back. Alright, I haven't talked to most of them for a while, but it doesn't hut to try talking to them right? I'll let my tweeting do the explaing for now:

4:37 PM Ok experiment time. I'm going to text 3 friends at once and I'm going to see who replies first, and how long it took them.

4:59:These people really suck. 22 minutes and no reply. Really dudes? 

7:00: 30 minutes, 0 replies. Fuck my life

 7:30: Still no reply. How long has it been?

12:50: I waited all day. No new anything from the 3 people I texted. I'm pissed off, so yes. I'll write a song about this and it will be great.

I can't stand this anymore. I hate it. I hate sitting at home all day, hoping to find something to do with one of my "friends" but everyone is doing something else with someone and it always isn't me.

When I look around at all of my "friends" I feel so far behind them. Sure, I might be smart and everything, but they have boyfriends and girlfriends, they have things to do, but I'm sitting idle, they have fun, and I don't. Sometimes when I'm sitting alone, I wish that I had those things. I wish I had something or someone to interact with.


Like I said before, It is nice to be creative and everything, but I feel like I'm always "looking at the conversation than taking part in one". I feel bad, but what can I change? I'll write more about this later when I have time.

Not again...

I'm doing something new; I decided to write during the after effects of an argument. Right now, I'm shaking and I can't really think straight, but I do have enough focus to write about the things that are making me mad.

OK, let me set the scene; I'm driving in the car with my Mom. I ask her a question on what to do at stop signs, she takes it the wrong way. We drive around for 8 more minutes and then I take out the tape recorder on my phone and record the rest of the conversation. We return home, and then after a 15 minute break I'm replaying the conversation and I'm writing down some of the key events on the tape. When I'm done, I ask my mom if she wants to talk about what happened. She said yes, and then I asked her 3 questions. She clearly wasn't understanding what I was asking so I got more frustrated than normal and I threw my hands down and hit the couch cushion (I was sitting on the couch) and then proceed to hit myself on the forehead with my palm (It didn't hurt that bad). Although I didn't want to say that “everything is always my fault” but I did because she really wasn't listening to anything else that I was saying at that point. Then I told my mom that I needed some space in my room and I slammed the door because she was trying to trying to get in. When I slammed the door for one last time, she entered and I told her to get out, and she didn't. She was yelling at me to “give her a hug” but I told her no 3 times. She clearly wasn't listening. Then I finally told her to leave, and I don't know where she is right now. That is how my day went from great to awful in about 2 hours.

This Saturday, I played in a very successful showcase in front of 700 or so people. I was happy. That whole week, I played guitar, met new people and had fun. I was happy the whole week. I was happy even though my band mate called me “a cold heartless person” and although it made me angry, I kept being happy all week. People wanted to listen to what I said. They wanted to hear my Debate stories, they wanted to hear my jokes, they wanted to hear my guitar playing. They wanted to know me better, and they did. I seen old friends that I haven’t seen in a year or so and they haven't changed. They all know about what's going on, and even if I didn't tell them, they will find out sooner or later, and I know that they wouldn't leave me in this title wave called life.

It's sad because my family isn't like this. I feel like my parents don't want to listen to what I have to say. I feel like they don't care about how hard my life is. I feel like they don't care about me. I wasn’t to talk to them, but I just don't. I haven't talked to my Dad in 3 months. I still haven't given him that letter. When I told my Mom about my intention on giving my Dad that letter, she told me “to not do it” because if I did “then you wouldn't see your friends next week” (aka that whole last paragraph). Now, I feel like that I'm never going to talk to my Mom with some sense of normalcy.

When I was in my room sitting on the floor I told myself that I could just give up now and not worry about dealing with my damn parents ever again. For a while I thought about really beating myself up because I was so angry, but again, just like the time I tried to kill myself, I stopped and the same saying popped back into my head “You can't leave now, You are doing it for them remember?” I then realized that it was a true statement.

I always make promises to people, or that what it is in a nutshell. Let me explain, Last week, my guitar instructor told me that I would be on the cover of Guitar Player magazine one day, and that I would also be the next “big” guitarist. Now what if I end up dying before I could reach any one of these goals? It isn't like I can't reach these goals, they aren't that difficult for me to do (yes, I am that good at guitar) but I just have to make it for just a couple of more days, but I feel like a week goes by so slow now. Yes, I'm afraid like heck, and I'm not quite sure if I could make it or not, but like I always say, something is keeping me here.

I calmed down now, but I'm starting to get very anxious because I don't know what I'm going to do about my family. This week isn't looking very good. Hopefully, I can find something to look forward to.

First day back at camp.

I can't really write a whole bunch like I normally do because I'm pressed for time. So I'm going to take some time out of my day to write about music camp.

I went to music camp for the first time last year and it changed my life for the better. I got to meet so many new friends and I was really happy for a week because I found the people that were like me. I loved it. I felt like I finally found one of the places that I belonged because no one was critical of me. I wasn't stressed out all week, and I felt good to connect with 5 people that I didn't know, wait a week and then become best friends. So when the application for camp came out a couple of months ago, I just knew that I had to go back to camp.

Now the time is here. I'm back at camp this year, but my good friends are gone, there are 30 more people than there were last year, and I'm still the oldest. I'm "outside" my box, but I'm starting to crawl out more but I should be fine by the end of the week, just in time for the big concert.

I'm starting to notice that I'm not as awkward when I'm around people that are like me. I'm still having a hard time making new friends, but whenever I think that I won't, I just try to remember that half of these people don't know me and that I will meet a lot of people this week and I'm sure they don't really care if I am awkward or not.

I also have to deal with the occasional "bullying" by some of the younger kids, but I guess don't really care because they are younger than me after all, and it should roll off me very quickly. It is kind of strange because I'm the oldest and I shouldn't really be putting up with that kind of stuff anyway.

On the other non related to camp side of my life, I got my test scores back, and I got a 2 on my History exam but on the bright side I got a 3 on my English. I'm kind of shocked because I was hoping for 5's on all of them, but I think that my class grade will speak louder than my test score grade in the end because I ended each class with over 100% in both classes. I'm sure that most of those people who got 4's and 5's didn't get over 100% their classes. Anyway, I don't really care about these scores, I'm more worried about the other test but that is a story for a different time.

I'll be back blogging about my day tomorrow.

Out of pain and boredom.

For the better part of the last two days, my back has been killing me! Its starting to get better though. Yesterday, I found these liquid muscle relaxers that I used to take when my wrist was hurting. I took them last night and when I woke up this morning, I really couldn't move around. So because I really couldn't move this morning, I thought "If I can't make it out of the bed because I'm so tired, I'm not going to work today. How am I going to lift book crates?" (yes, I lift book crates for 5 hours when I go to my job. If I'm not doing that, then I'm putting things on shelves). Yes, today was my day off.

My back has been hurting for the better part of 3 days. I think that I've pulled a muscle, and that might be the case. My whole back has this really bad bruse on it and I've trying to take it easy and relax, but that really didn't help. So, I found these muscle relaxers and I can finally sit down at my desk and type everything out. I didn't go to work yesterday, and that really made me angry beacause I wanted to lift book crates all day and take a 45 minute break. Overall, I was happy that I got the day off because I finally had the time to sit down and refine the raw thoghts that were in my head all day.

(Yes I'm writing this under the infulence of muscle relaxers. I don't know if my writing will be any diffrent, but it would be cool to see if it was.)

But before I get to the "raw thoughts" I first should say that I hate having days off. I always feel like I should be doing something and when I think about that I get kind of angry because I should be doing what I normally do. I really don't get injured in summer, so I really didn't know how to react to that yesterday. I guess it was kind of nice having a day off (and mostly to myself) because I got to look out the window and see the sun shine, and enjoy the air conditoning as much as I wanted. And I'm happy that I spend so much time by myself yesterday because the prefect theme for this blog post came out of my bordom.

Like every other day, I was checking my social networks (this time Facebook) and I was just looking at my news feed. I'm not really into Facebook like I once was, but it didn't hinder my thought. "You know what? I'm the ONLY one of my friends who is single, doesn't post pictures of partying, has less than 50 friends, and still looks like their 7th grade self. Whats wrong with me?"

Alright, I know that was just a thought and nothing is really wrong with me but the question is still valid. I guess I should say "Why am I not like these people?" or "Why are these people my friends in the first place? We aren't alike at ALL".

I guess I should tell you about my "Friends" on Facebook.Look, I don't add every single person I know on Facbook. I don't add my whole 3rd period French class, I don't add the whole Debate Team, I don't add random people that I don't know. However, I do add people who I know. I add my best friends from camp, my best friends that I lost when I transfered, and the people I eat lunch with everyday. So when you add that all up, I have the wopping total of 36 friends. No, they aren't all my "Friends". Out of that 36 people, about 5 or 6 are my "I would take a bullet if I had to so you could stay alive friends" and out of those 5 or 6, 2 or 3 are the "I would die for you if I had to" friends. Subtact 2 exes, and about 5 people who I don't really like, and there you go, that is my Facebook friend list.

I really don't know why I'm not "popular" online or in life for that matter. I always thought that I was an interesting person, and people would always like me for what was on the inside and not on the outside, but that doesn't seem to be true anymore. I can go days without hearing from people, or just anyone. I always thought that that was fine at first, but I didn't realize that whats on the inside doesn't matter that much to people. I feel like no one really wants to go that deep, but then again, I do realize that it is ok if people don't get that far. I'm used to it.

I feel like I finished this post, but the rest of my thoughts are starting to spill over into something else in itself. I'll be back later so I can finish it. I'm in a lot of pain right now anyway, so I'm going to take an Advil and go to bed.

Why I write

Its 11:11 right now, and I don't feel like sleeping, and I want to blog but I don't want to blog about something serious or about music (Well I do, but just not right now). I also don't feel like writing about love, life, or my friends, because I feel like I always write about that on my blog. So because of that, I guess I'm going to just write about writing.

I've always been a writer. Always. I knew that I was going to be a writer when I first picked up a pencil in Kindergarten. Back then I thought that a writer was "someone who wrote on paper", that isn't really "correct" but I guess I was smart then too! When I was in first grade, I wrote and illustrated a story just for fun. I gave it to my teacher and she liked it so much, that she decided to have a story writing unit just for me. Eventually, I got that story published into a small book just because I could. I didn't sell it or anything, but I still have it. Now that I think about it, I was really smart then too. What kind of kid would write a story about an Aardvark gathering supplies to paint his house? I even threw in a narrator! What kid does that? (an awesome one right?)

I kept writing through Elementary school, and thats when I've really got into books. It just so happened that the awkward phase started then (look at definition four). I was that kid who read all of those Sci-Fi books. And if I wasn't reading that, I was probably reading something else; anything else really. By the time Spring Break rolled around in my 4th grade year, I completed all of the books in our classroom library. Narnia, Redwall, A Series of Unfortunate Events, I've read them all, heck, I've pretty much got all of those kid books down in my memory.

Like I said before, this is when I really started to become "awkward". Who wants to be friends with the kid who reads all the time right? No one really. I eventually quit playing with kids, and my "best friends" were my books, my pen and my pencil.

My grades started to "slip" but it wasn't because I was not understanding the material; it was because I was so bored in the classes I was in I had to do something else. So I started to doodle what my characters looked like, and I used write out plot lines when I've should have been paying attention to lectures. Eventually, my teachers got annoyed and they started to dislike me more than the regular student.

Eventually, I made it to Middle School, but little did I know that things would go downhill from there. Trust me, I didn't like transferring at all, so what did I do? I wrote. When my first year of Middle School came around, we had more time for writing in all of our classes, so I was excited. However, my writing got more criticism than I was used to. It wasn't from the people in my class, but it was from the teachers. Now that I look back on it, some of those teachers who taught me how to "write" were some of the worst teachers I've had. But one believed in me and told me that "I should write, because if I don't write, people would be missing out on the real you". I guess that is a reason why I do write to this day. I want to write so people would "get me" and to just "find out" about who I really am because so much of the assumptions that I encounter in my daily life are from the way I look. So I wish that everyone I cross paths with could read some of my writing and really see how I am.

More books, but this time they didn't have pictures in them, and they were complex. I really got into philosophy, and more abstract things in plot lines. After all of that reading and a lifetime of writing, I realized that I should major in something that I did every day. My favorite teacher (this far in my education) told me that I "NEED to major in English, Literature, or Journalism" because if I didn't "then the world couldn't be able to see what I've written, and I would let my talent go to waste". So I've been writing more, less stories, but more "words". I've been listening to albums like crazy, and I've been writing about them on my music blog. I've been following bands, and I also write articles, and predictions on what I think that my favorite bands will do with their next album/concert/whatever it might be on my music blog too. And I use this blog to just directly channel what I'm feeling. And I use my "paper and pen" journal to jot down my raw thoughts. (I also work at the library too, is that just in my future?

That is almost everything that you need to know about me and writing, and why I write so much. I could write more, but its 12:12, so I should probably be doing something else, like sleeping.