funky jane's secret thoughts

moving on...

2008-11-17T08:23:00.000-08:00

Ha. the title is misleading, as it indicates I am indeed moving forward in my life. I suppose in some ways I am, but i persistently feel stuck. I'm over Blake for the most part, I believe. but i never see him anymore, so who knows...what if he were to pop up into my life again suddenly, and i fell back into that heart-trap? he's like a steel bear-trap for hearts. it doesn't matter though. I'm safe as long as he stays away. I haven't seen him since July. It's November. Good.

I'm supposed to be writing 700-900 words for a column for the school newspaper... I have to have it done by two but instead I decided to write in here. Sigh. I really don't feel like writing. I wonder if I could turn in a half-assed journal entry instead? I doubt it. Maybe if it were a progressive paper and less conservative. Maybe I'll just not go. Just be like "Fuck you guys. You suck anyways." Except I like the editor-in-chief, Rikki, and I know what an asshole I'd be by bailing out last minute. Even though I hate the teacher. Ok, well not hate. Dislike.

So...the stuck feeling. What about it. I don't know. This morning I went up to my math teacher to talk to him about making up the test I missed last week (I slept through it because I wasn't prepared and didn't feel like getting up), and he patted me on the back and told me "You're a wonderful student." It was the most depressing thing ever. I'm not a wonderful student, I'm actually a horrible student. I never do the work until last minute, I put forth a tiny fraction of effort and am never surprised or pleased with good grades, only indignant and irritated when i receive bad ones (although more often then not they're what I deserve). I don't even like math, really. I sleep through his class half the time. Just because I somehow managed an A last eight weeks he thinks I'm a wonderful student? It depresses me. I can't figure it out. I think I just like being depressed.

I think all my problems are my own fault. Or rather, the fact that I let problems make me stressed and miserable is my fault. I bet you anything my life would be excellent, without having to change anything about my life at all except my piece-of-shit attitude about things. Maybe I see being content as overrated and boring. I never can seem to do it for long. Germain accuses me of being insecure and acting pathetic to get people to feel sorry for me. He's right, of course, and it only makes me feel even shittier about myself. Great. Now I'm always second-guessing everything I do as a plea for attention. Why am I sitting here writing all alone when i could be socializing or at least doing homework? Probably because I want people to look at me and say, "Damn, what a loser. She must be sooo depressed i bet she takes vicodin. Idiot." and then I'll be satisfied that I don't have to keep up appearances. Or maybe just my appearances are easier to keep up.

Ah. It's even worse now. Now three people are sitting here at the table with me and I'm ignoring them to write. But I need writing. I feel that I've had more than enough of socializing lately. Well not exactly as harsh as that... I don't know exactly what I mean. That' s why I have to write. What did my yoga teacher call it...self-study. I need to self-study. Reflect a little more often. Figure it out. Figure me out. Why do I function the way that I do? I don't think I can trust myself with another person until I can figure myself out. It's likely though, that I'll never really figure myself out and I'll probably end up trusting the untrustworthy and regretting it (see entries below for example).

I think one of my problems is consistency. I'm never consistent in things that I begin. Writing, drawing, painting, photography, soccer, bike riding, mandolin. I start learning something and as soon as it gets difficult I quit. Sometimes just for a little while, but even if I start again, I'll still quit again. Shit...what am I going to write about for the 700 words? I have having to write in an orderly, organized fashion. I much prefer to just expel this motley thought train with word vomit.

Sonnet II

2008-05-04T22:53:00.000-07:00

Sonnet II

Edna St. Vincent Millay

I think I should have loved you presently,
And given in earnest words I flung in jest;
And lifted honest eyes for you to see,
And caught your hand against my cheek and breast;
And all my pretty follies flung aside
That won you to me, and beneath your gaze,
Naked of reticence and shorn of pride,
Spread like a chart my little wicked ways.
I, that had been to you, had you remained,
But one more waking from a recurrent dream,
Cherish no less the certain stakes I gained,
And walk your memory's halls, austere, supreme,
A ghost in marble of a girl you knew
Who would have loved you in a day or two.

everything i'm not saying to you

2008-04-30T21:13:00.000-07:00

how the fuck dare you! i can't believe it, you ask me to jump into this relationship with even though i was frightened of the very word, and yet i decided it was time to take a chance on someone, even though i was terrified i'd be a shitty girlfriend and i would end up hurting you. i did it anyways. and i when said 'get into this with me' i didn't just get in, i dove in fucking headfirst like an idiot who doesn't know what she's doing, cause it turns out the lake was actually a pool and now i've cracked my skull open at the bottom. thats what i get for...for... fuck, i don't know what for. trusting you. thinking i could safely fall in love with you. thinking you would fall in love back. and now you say you can't do this, you have personal shit to get through, you cant or won't tell me really what that stuff is, just that you can't be in a relationship right now. i feel like you asked for my heart, and i gave it to you, and you held it for a little and the whole time i was waiting giddy with anticipation to get yours back, and instead you had me mine back. but you handed it back in shitty condition cause instead placing it where it belongs inside of your chest, you just held it out in the open air letting it dry and out and crumble before handing it back. how come this seems to be so easy for you? it hurts so much that you don't seem to even care that what we had so briefly is gone. it must've meant nothing. your pain apparently is so much greater than any happiness i could bring you. i feel insufficient and worthless. i couldn't make you happy and now i must suffer alongside you for it. why did you let me give you my heart? why did you ask for it if you knew all along that you didn't want it? why is it you can say "let's just let go of this, trust me, it's for the best" as if it's something so easy to let go of, like a cute stuffed animal you decided wasn't really worth the fifteen dollars. just put it back. no harm done. means nothing. sure, i'll just let go. no problem fuckhead. let me just rip my feelings for you out of my chest where i've been nurturing their growth with tender loving care, let me rip them out and tear them to pieces and then burn them and then throw the fucking ashes of them in your eyes. i wish you'd stop pretending you cared for me at all. i really thought you did. i really really really did.... the way you would look into my eyes and how when we kissed you'd stop and smile at me as if you couldn't help it cause you were so happy, the smile was just contagious, and you'd say in that goofy awkward way "you're great" as if you couldn't believe how lucky you were, and i began to feel the same. every time we hugged i felt like i was in this safe place where i didn't have to worry about what the other person thought, their affection was assured and genuine. and now i feel as if that was all a cheap fraud. if i had actually meant anything to you at all, why have you given up so easily? why have you just quit on me with a pathetic, "i can't do it." what i see is "I can't do it, you're not worth it. maybe if i liked you more i could get past my problems." but no, you don't. your problems are so much more important. 'personal stuff.' what the fuck? ok, here's what i know. you dated this girl a year and a half ago. you guys were very serious for a long time, but things fell apart and eventually you just stayed together so you wouldn't have to be alone, and you started feeling like she was just using you for sex. so you broke things off, and for up to eight months, except for the three while she was in the mental hospital, she would call you hundred of times begging you to take her back i suppose, and threatening to kill herself over you. ok. thats enough to fuck anyone up. strangely i feel better now that i've re-looked at that. that is pretty fucked up. maybe i should just pull my angry little head out of my ass and realize this probably has nothing to do with me. it's just that i feel offended that the reason you're ending things with me has nothing to do with me at all. what can i do? i feel so hopeless and helpless and i hate not being able to make you happy. i still like you a lot, i honestly thought i was falling in love with you. and i thought maybe you felt the same. and as i had a feeling that strong, probably the strongest feeling i've ever had, and i find out that it's not enough to make you even want to TRY to be with me longer than one goddamn week, yea, i get hurt and angry. how dare your fear and pain be stronger than my love? is my love so weak as that, that pain that's over a year old can defeat it like it's nothing? it makes me cry and cry and cry, which is what i've been doing the past hour. i don't think i've cried so much since i was a little kid. actually i know i haven't. congratulations you broke the dam. and by 'dam' i mean heart. now i'm back to where i've always been, laden with the knowledge that i truly do have an expiration date. after a maximum of two weeks, a boy just can't stand to be with me any longer. maybe thats just how long it takes them to realize how flawed i am. so selfish and arrogant and vain as well as insecure. now i feel as if i'll never actually be in a real relationship. before i felt like that, but the knowledge was light. now that i've had a taste of the happiness i could have, that weight is immense. now i have to walk around knowing that to be in a relationship you have to risk having your heart trampled on like you mean nothing. i don't know how people do it. i feel as if i'll never be able to trust anyone again and that makes me mourn for myself, now i now i'll always be alone. when alone my flaws maximize themselves, i'm a better person if i feel loved. i know it. right now i feel like a worthless scumbag. i want you, you don't want me, and the pain is unbelievable.

ANGRY

2008-04-30T14:58:00.000-07:00

i'm so pissed off right now at you! WHY WHY WHY?!?!?!?

girl meets boy. boy flirts. boy texts. girl flirts back. girl texts back. girl and boy hang out. and then again. and then again. boy tells girl he likes her. girl says, lets just be friends for a bit, wait and see. they wait. six days. girl tells boy she likes him too. next thing she knows, she's swept off her feet in a whirlwind of romance. five intense days of happieness. then boy says "i can't do this"

ah fuck describing it that way. that way sucks. this whole situation sucks. what im getting at is that im angry he's still doing this. he said he couldn't possibly be with me, than changes his mind for what? a day? a day where i think we've worked something out and we're trying.... and now he's back at that shitty conclusion. he can't be with me, it's too hard. his ex from a year and half ago fucked him up so bad she's ruined my happiness. i wish i could meet her and tell her she's awful for doing this to him. to me.

i like him and i like liking him and i want to continue doing so. i thought he felt the same, it certainly seemed so, but apparently his likage of me is not stronger than his...what is it? fear? fear of what? that i'll hurt him like she did? that he'll hurt me? that we'll end up horribly unhappy due to each other? how does he plan on living the rest of life....alone? if he's not willing to try to get past this now, how will he later on? he's just going to be attached to his lonlieness and sorrow and thinking nothing but bad things about himself, and it will be a horrible addiction that never ends.

maybe we won't work out in the end. maybe we're not meant to be together for all eternity. but he's not even willing to try past a WEEK with me, even though he likes me. or at least he claims to. i'm beginning to wonder if this entire thing isn't just some concocted story to get rid of me without lowering my self esteem cause he's too nice to say "i'm just not into you." at least that makes sense!! and then i could feel bad and then move on. instead i think he likes me and i know i like him and i can't understand why he won't try to be with me when we both are into each other. he just tells me to run as far as i can before he hurts me. fuck that. i'm no puss. i'm not giving up so easily.

i don't know how he expects me to just accept this. i'm not a weak person. i don't give up at the first sign of adversity. he may not know it, but he's not going to be truly rid of me until one of two things 1. i have no more feelings for him or 2. i'm sure he has none for me. and seeing as i've gotten pretty attached, it'll have to be the second. otherwise he's stuck. i'll try not to harrass him. but i'm not going to forget him, i'm not going to pretend he doesn't exsist, i'm not going to pretend we're 'just friends' and thats it. I LIKE YOU ALOT DAMN IT AND I'M NOT ABOUT TO JUST FORGET IT.

thats it, i'm taking a nap.

jeapordizing my future?

2008-04-29T14:20:00.000-07:00

let's make a list of all the work i'm not doing right now.

three page book critique, due tomorrow
14 analyses of historical documents, 125 words apiece
8 math assignments
a ten-page research due in one week
seven or eight pages in my french workbook
three overdue 'cultural activities'
organizing and labeling my photography in an album

i think that's about it. not to mention finals are next week. fuck fuck fuckkkkkkkk WHY can't i just do my work? it's so sunny outside, so warm and sunny... green grass, sunshine... sigh. i'm in the library not getting anything done.

a large part of why i don't get anything done is the fault of a boy, by the name of Blaine. well, his name isn't really Blaine, but my name isn't really Jane, is it? anyhow, this way our names rhyme. i like him so much i don't even think i can write about him right now. i guess all i can really say is that he's a huge distraction and within the past three weeks that i've known him he's managed to make me feel incredibly happy almost to the point of feeling unworthy, and disastrously upset and hurt and angry, and then back to happy again.

he is so bad for my homework - but oh, he is so worth it. i think now, anyways. i just hope i don't regret anything later on. i don't think i will, as long as i can manage to pull my act together in time, so that i still manage a decent GPA. i don't think i'd fail anything, not at this point... in a way i wish i hadn't met him until school was out so i could've finished the semester better. but i was floundering before i met him anyways, now that i think of it, and i probably would've found something else to keep me distracted. i usually do.

geez some lady is coughing here in the library and it sounds like she's dying. that is nasty. i think soon i will drive up to the school and make some photos in the darkroom instead of writing my book review, which desperately needs to be written. oh guilt guilt guilt. i wish i could just turn a note in to my teachers that say "I didn't do my homework because I fell in love instead." Do you think they would accept that?

Am I in love? I don't know. I know I care about him immensely, and that when, after just five days of being officially 'together', he told me he wasn't ready and couldn't be with me, I was devasted. I went and sat at the end of the little pier in my neighborhood and cried. That's saying a lot, seeing as i don't cry readily.

You know what? I thought I would feel good writing in here again, but I don't. I feel exhibitionist and bland. I thought I should start writing again, maybe write some poetry or prose, to get out my feelings, as an outlet.... but this is not satisfying. I feel like I'm giving a news report. Maybe I'm not being honest enough. I think that's when I truly feel the essence of writing, is when I lay something out there that I don't want other people to see, something true and ugly and unavoidably me.

Maybe I'll try again later.

2007-09-06T00:44:00.000-07:00

so whats up public at large? its janey jane jane here again, 2:45 in the morning and i just spent and hour and half lying in bed not sleeping, so idecided to give up for awhile. im hungry but im too lazy to go downstairs and eat, and i dont want to have to brush my teeth again.

soooo i thought id write in here to maybe get some thoughts out of my head so i could fall asleep, even though its obvious the resason i cant fall asleep is simply because i didnt wake up until 4:30 this afternoon, after sleeping for 12 1/2 hours. no wonder im not tired.

im so annoyed at how lame my life is. i still dont have my drivers license, im still not in college, i still dont have good friends, i dotn even have any marijuana. all i have are so pseudo-buddies and cigarettes, and an irritating job at starbucks. the ship is still delayed, my escape is still yet to arrive. i want to shave my head but i dont want to have to answer any questions about it; i just want people to pretend its normal for 18 year old girls to have buzzcuts. i have a little baby crush on my friend josh who lives inconveniently in Ohio, i miss all my other friends, who live in California and Brasil and other various nations around the world (Norway, Australia, Mexico, Germany, Poland, France, Finland, Denmark, Canada... how can i be that i have such luck to have so many great friends all over the world but such luck to have none nearby? thats the nature of luck i guess.

the high point of my week was when a couple came into starbucks and accidently almost gave my some hungarian coinage and i told them how i had a hungarian friend and he taught me how to say "i love you" in hungarian but i couldnt remember what it was, and then the man told me 'It starts with S...' and i remembered and said "serret lekt" (spelled wrong im sure) to them and they pleasantly laughed at the nice starbucks barista who loved them. for some reason i foudn it really nice that instead of telling me what it was (or not telling me) that the man gave me a hint so i could remember it on my own. it felt good to remember how to say i love you in hungarian.

i want to get my drivers license, drive to Chelsea's Coffeehouse, and ask for the phone number of the guy who works there, andi dont even know why. i cant really remember what his face looks like, i just know i liked his voice and his manner. he's probably a few years older than me, 23 or so i'd venture to say. would he mind going on a date with a licenseless bald eighteen yearold? probably not his ideal date. im not bald yet though. and maybe i'll get my license soon. in my mind i call him Bob Ross Guy, or Bob for short. maybe tomorrow when i go out with Anna for late lunch we'll end up there and i can talk with Bob a bit and see if im still tempted to flirt. he probably has a girlfriend who he loves very much, but she cant possibly be mad at him for me flirting at him.

raechel sent me another boy-angst email. she seems to only write when she has boy troubles. i have no boy troubles - i have no boys. bryan is a boy but hes just a friend. i think. iono. i do like him, but im scared by the thought of him falling in love with me, i know i wont fall in love with him, and also i dont want to have a 'thing' with him only because im desperately lonely. i know we make good friends so why should i let that change? i dont want to lose half of the friends i have here - bryan and anna. ive gone out with jamie from work a few times too, but im using her to get high and shes using me to have someone nonjudgemental to pour all her problems into - and she has a lot of problems. i never say much, she does most of the talking. interestingly, now that i think of it, when i go out with bryan and anna they also do most of the talking. have i become less talkative? or have i just simply made friends with very talkative people? before i was always known for talking alot, usually a lot of nonsense. hmm. interesting thought.

i dont know. i feel bad about going out with jamie just to get high. its not that i dont like her - i do - its just that if we werent getting high i wouldnt want to hang out with her. that makes me a downright shitty person, and not much of a friend. but on the other hand, i dont think she really wants to hang out with me exactly, i just fit the bill of a quiet non-judgemental person who will let her say whatever she wants to without arguing, cause im so docile around her. i just dont have the energy to fight with jamie about anything even though i disagree with all her justifications. shes one of those people who never accept blame or responsibility, and im too lazy to try and change her, i just let her live her life they way she wants. its her life, and its so fucked up honestly i dont really want to get very involved in it. her friends are sketchy and the kind my parents would tel lme are 'dangerous' and i shouldnt be around. i dont think thye're dangerous personally, but they arent the kind of friends i want. i want motivated, inspired, intelligent people who i can talk with and who can understand me. but if i want to get high theyre fine, i guess. as long as i dont get in a car wreck.

ok im too hungry to type any more. i guess ill go eat. this sucks. i typed and i dont feel any more tired, any less hungry, and not even more satisfied from writing. i basically feel the same way i did when i sat down, except more hungry.

damn you all.
g'night.

wow people, what is up with the world today?

2007-08-30T07:05:00.000-07:00

more appropiate question, what is up with me?

fun facts:

1. i didnt sleep last night
2. i feel like im on a caffine rush but all i had was one cup of coffee, and not very good coffee either
3. ive become obsessed with the tv show 'House' and have begun to think like a fictional cynical, depressed, huge jerk NON EXSISTENET doctor
4. black guys are hot. thats not from the lack of sleep though, its just something about a cute black guy that melts me since ive been back from Brasil
5. i hate math, claim to hate science but i liked chemistry and i find reading ameurter lay books on neurology fascinating
6. i have a secret blog which you are reading. i dont know you, do i? oh thank god!!

hmmm what am i up to with my life now? let's see... 2005 i moved from my happy northern californiana life to my friendless exsistence in texas... i graduated from high school a year early. i went to brasil for a year, partied like mad, learned portuguese, developed higher self-confidence and drinking tolerance, lost my virginity (and got caught! oh yay!).... now i'm back in friendless texas-land. i work five days a week at a starbucks, i have no drivers license, i rarely practice driving,
i'm not going to school, i have no definite plans for college other than "i'd like that"... i bummed a ride downtown with my mom and im sitting at the University of Houston library typing away on my stupid secret blog that no one knows about or reads... i'm surrounded by young people who were motivated enough to apply to a university and get accepted, unlike lazy stupid me who cant get my act together.

of course, i have an excuse. i'm probably going to go work on my dads merchant marine vessel sometime in the middle of september, heading most likely (but not definitely) to several ports in Africa. or perhaps Asia, or the Mediterraean, but not not likely anywhere else. i'm thrilled at the thought of going to sea with my dad (the captain) but i cant stand the undefinitiveness of his career sometimes.... its all so variable. first the ship was supposed to arrive in houston in late august, then it had to stop in italy first, so its delayed until early-mid september, and now its in italy but has to make a side trip to israel, and its going back to italy, and then after that it goes to south carolina, then louisiana, and then houston. so now the ETA (estimated time of arrival) is september 25, so it'll probably arrive around...let's see....october?

i have a bottle of caffine pills in my purse. i dont know why but im so tempted to take one. i'm not tired. i may not have slept but i have plenty of suspirciously adrenaline-like energy.

DRUGS. it's a topic on my mind in big bold capital letters. in brasil i went through my ALCOHOL and SEX phases and now, deprived of parties, the legal right to drink, and friends in general, the big D is niggling my curiousity. probably why the Fictional (i must capitalize lest i forget) vicodin addicted Dr. House captures my restless imgination so. probably explains why i want to take not one but THREE of those caffine pills in my bag, just to see what will happen. probably explains why last night when my sister took out of her large green prescribed migrane-defeating pills, i was half hoping (or three-quarters hoping...) that she would drop one on the floor unnoticed, accidently leave the bottle out, go into a crazed rage and shove one down my throat to see what would happen to me later.... my curiousity is probably why i went searching through my room for that old bottle of vicodin i had left over from when i had my wisdom teeth removed last year, and probably why i was disappointed to find they had disappeared (later accounted for by my sister... she gets migranes and i dont). probably why ive smoked weed about four times this month... not a really high number (hahaha...high number) but compared to my earlier zero times it's quite a rise, and in all likelyhood, rising.

what with the removed anti-drug pressure of my older sister (she broke up with her boyfriend of two years and instead of protesting maryjane abuse as before, shes now wondering if i could maybe hook us up), and the raised avaliabilty and opportunity to smoke (aka jamie from work), my vague depression and clear lonlieness, combined my insatiable curiosity and reckless youth; i have a feeling instead of ceasing to use pot, i'm going to turn to it more.... i've barely started into my DRUGS phase, far to early to turn out now! i got kicked out of the ALCOHOL and SEX cause i'm no longer in Brasil (1. easy access to alcohol 2. i had a boyfriend... and regular friends for that matter). drugs (illegal or no) are actually easier to get in the states then alcohol (for someone underage, obviously, as i am....obviously).

i started smoking (cigarettes) in january. i quit when i came back to texas. i started again three weeks later. i quit again this last saturday. well, i quit buying cigarettes as of this saturday anyhow. if jamie offers me one after a joint i hardly would say no.

it's 9:38. i'm supposed to meet my mom at the front of the library at 10. i better get off and go do something else so she doesnt suspect i spent a whole hour writing in a secret blog. of course, i could always tell i her i was purusing myspace, but then what would be the point of coming to the library? i told her i wanted to learn today ( and i do... i mis learning, i miss school, i miss feeling like more than a mindless working ameoba).

ok. im going to go.

reasearch topics today:

brains!
travel
brasil
film
drugs
do i know how to do math? do i like science?

hmmm.

voltei

2007-05-28T20:39:00.000-07:00

well, im back. for the moment. i just need somewhere to write where i dont feel judged or apprehensive about someone finding out things that i try to keep relatively hidden. for example, my rather recently adopted habit of smoking about two packs of cigarettes a week. yesterday (sunday) i decided with Ben and Julie, two of my best friends here in brasil, that we were only going to smoke on weekends from now on. i lasted about 17 hours, i think. lets see how i do tomorrow. probably not so great. my only feeble hope is that julie, or at least ben, will fall with me. just so i wont be alone in my sinful weakness. i feel guilty for smoking, but only when i think of my parents or friends finding out about it. otherwise i seem to be mostly alright with slowly destroying my health. i never planned on being athletic anyhow.

Right now I'm compiling a playlist of all my favorite 1990's songs on my youtube. a way to pass the time. current favorite... Tom's Diner by Suzanne Vega. current favorite band... Cake (not 90s, but whatever). so i decided yesterday at Pessimu's (a bar) with Josh, the guy from Ohio who i kiss when i see. the only ways i know how to describe our relationship are literal ones. "We kiss each other. More often when I'm drunk." Anything abstract and non-tangible, such as emotions, I'm at a loss for. he doesnt live in my city though, he lives in Araçatuba, which is a seven hour bus ride away. i'll see him again in two weeks when i go 'the raça' for the annual Rotary Conference.

Recently I've been living life very shallowly. On the surface... i dont venture in deep often anymore. About an hour ago I finished watch the film The United States of Leland and although i missed the beginning, it made me feel like diving a bit deeper again, something i havent done for awhile. All i do as of late (as of...hmm since august i suppose) is wait for the next party, the next time to go out with my friends and have good (and generally drunken) time. I've changed, but I dont feel its in a bad way. Honestly i like myself more than ever right now. I dont know why. I suppose nowadays i feel so much more free, so wild, so honest... when one just lives on the surface of things there's no reason for faking and lying. I care so much less about the judgments of others, I'm so much more confident... despite all the bad habits i've picked up on exchange, what i've gained is so much greater. freedom of spirit. and im bilingual, thats kinda neat too.

i dont know how im going to handle the confinement of my parents house and rules when i return. not to mention the restricting laws of our nation, and the conservative culture in general. whenever i think of leaving this place i feel so lost... i have no definite plans for my future. i tell everyone that im going to go work with my dad and travel to africa, but honestly i still dont even have that confirmed yet. its possible that i may just end up at San Jacinto South Community College until im 21, like my older sister. But i sincerely hope not... i am so incredibly ready to move out of my parents house... metally and emotionally, that is. fincaially... unfortunately not so. thats why i hope going to work with my father really does work out. I'll earn some money, hopefully stay onboard until January, go to San Jac for six months and work as well (i'm thinking starbucks or barnes and noble)... and hopefully by then i'll have enough money to go to a real university (one at the very least several hours drive away from my parents house) or even better, go to Europe and work or study there. And if i have the money/time for a train pass, i can do my own europe trip, staying in the homes of all the european friends i've made on exchange (i'd say theres at least ten who would welcome me into their homes).

i have school tomorrow. i generally skip but im starting to feel guilty about that too. so im going to go eat, shower and then go to bed. which will take me another hour undoubtedly, but i dont rush my nighttime rituals. i think its because i know if i get to bed too early i wont be tired enough to fall asleep, and i hate just lying in bed not sleeping. it feels like such a waste of time.

boa noite.

My 1990s Hits List:

(song, artist)

lemon tree, fool's garden
the way, fastball
sex and candy, marcy playground
toms diner, suzanne vega
bitch, meredith brooks
where have all the cowboys gone, paula cole
waterfalls, tlc
no scrubs, tlc
dont turn around, ace of base
the sign, ace of base
all that she wants, ace of base
kiss me, sixpence none the richer

goodbye

2006-07-01T00:33:00.000-07:00

when i'm n brasil i dont think it'd be a good idea to write in here. here is where id bitch about people when there is no one i can bitch to; and i dont want myhost families finding that shit. not cool.

so bye, as of august 7th. to no one i suppose.

meet... the Prat.

2006-05-30T19:31:00.000-07:00

oh ho ho. i just returned from a rotary gathering. ohoh, i suppose i ought to explain. Rotary international... its a service/ volunteer program worldwide, and i am arranged to be a Rotary International Youth Exchange Student to Brasil this August (for a year). wow, look at all those capital letters, how strange for me. anyhow, i spent the majority of the three hours i was there sitting next to Nicole (Nicki) who is an exchange student here from Brasil, and Andrew, a Houstonian who just returned from his year long exchange to Brasil.

it was interesting. Nicki is such a sweet girl, i hope i call her up seomtime and invite her over. i'm horrible at calling people, so who knows. but i hope i do, i really should. and as for Andrew... well, i just finished this young-adult-science-fiction-novel called Deep Secrets by Diana Wynne Jones and in it one of the characters meets the other and her first impression is so strong that she calls him nothing but the Prat in her head. Well, Andrew makes an excellent Prat. or Ass. or... Pretenious Pompous Arrogant Ass. yes, i like that. PPAA. or maybe Pretentious Arrogant Pompous Ass, so he is PAPA. but i call my father Papa, so i dont like that so much, too weird. anyhow, i think you get the idea.

it was kinda funny, actually. i forgive him for it though. he was loud and loved to say "I'll be honest with you" or "In all honesty..." or perhaps just "Honestly..." --- nothing makes someone less believeable then over-using the word 'honest', dont you think? he'd give me some 'handy advice' for my trip next year, and who knows, maybe it will be handy. i wont know until i get there, will i? but everyone has a different experience. when one of the rotarians asked him how many languages he knows, he answered just loud enough so he was yelling but everyone automatically looked at him, informing us he is fluent in two (spanish and portugese, and english too, although he didnt count it at least) and could speak four (french, german, and i forget the other two).

i dont know why, but i feel like describing him, this Prat. yes, i think i shall stick to calling him 'the Prat' even if it is stealing from Diana Wynne Jones. i give her full credit. there. he was just so... imposing. i felt that he felt he was absolutely amazing. i also think that perhaps a portion of his loudness and overwhelming confidence stems fromt the fact he only arrived home from Brasil three days ago, and the language and the experience and everything is still very fresh and present in his mind and he's just one of theose people that always want to Share experiences and their lives.

of course, i could be wrong in all of this. just my First Impression.

The Prat is tall, and appears much older than... 19, i think. he graduted as a senior from my highschool last year (as opposed to me, who graduated as a junior this year) and took a 'gap year' as they say in Brasil. He had just gotten back from his first day of work at a law firm (which is why he is back already, most exchangers dont return until mid-summer) so he was wearing cacao-colored leather loafers, beige slack, and a white and light blue verticle striped shirt, with one button undone. His hair was black and slick with gel, and perched on a sharp nose were rimless spectacles (i love that word... spec-ta-cles...spec-tac-u-lar...) faintly magnifying unobtrusive dark eyes. He also had two stud earrings, just two little balls of metal on his earlobes, which i assume he thought made him look...oh i dont know, whatever young men assume metal stud earrings make them look like. but they were very distracting. probably why i cant recall his face very well but i remember his earlobes quite well. In particular, i remember his earlobes, the little soft looks tufts of black hair just over his ear that he hadnt managed to slick back with gel, and his spec-ta-cles. The lenses were probably about the size of a carnival ticket, you know, the little red "Admission!" rectangle of stout paper. Or soemtimes blue. Anyhow, they were rimless, and i believe the stick-part-that-goes-over-your-ear (i dont know what to call it) was a bronze color, but it may have been black. I think his glasses and the little tufts of hair that escaped the wrath of hair paste are the two things i liked best about the Prat. and about the only things as well. he was in general, repulsive, in that i felt repulsed from him. didnt even shake his hand.

I would be talking with Nicki and then he would join in the conversation normally enough, except that he would join in Portugese. which i do not speak. and then he and Nicki would continue the conversation, or who knows, perhaps they were speaking of something completely beyond what we were talking about before, i wouldnt know, but i dont speak Portugese. which he knew. so i got to sit there looking like an idiot. It wasnt Nicki's fault, she would try to sidle the conversation back into English, and it would work for a bit, until his pressing desire to prove his multi-linguity returned and he'd switch it around. I realize i'm going to have to get used to not understanding what people are saying for awhile, and i dont have a problem with that. its' just that i dont like my conversation in english being interrupted and stolen from me.

oohohoh..... the song "sing for absolution" by Muse is playing on my computer. how i love this song. 'i only dream of you...only you never knew' the lyrics dont suffice, if one wishes to appreciate the music one must hear it. thats why its music.

i think i shall depart for now. i've gotten a little writing out of me, it was building up. i havent written in my journal since school ended. its difficult to sit down and write when i dont have classes to bore me into it. i checked out too many good books from the library. two of which are late as of today. ah well, i'll turn them in tomorrow.

in control

2006-05-24T00:32:00.000-07:00

oh, oh oh oh. its 2:30 AM. i've been listening to the song "Crazy" by Gnarls Barkley over and over again, eating orange yogurt and reading Valiant by Holly Black. I just finished it. it's left me feeling melancholy. or maybe that's just me. its just so frusturating. i feel like i know these fictional characters better than i know anyone in my real life.

i only get like this when i'm tired. what is this? i dont know, for sure. a mood, certainly. like my eyes are bulging out of my skull and my limbs want nothing more than to collapse into a lethargic state of apathy, but my mind insists on sorting through the sludge that is my thoughts. i sometimes think i'm depressed. but whenever the idea ocurs to me, that i have real tangible mental issue, its not true. i can think of a million reasons why. and yet for each reason why i'm not, there's still that little part of me that whispers a reason why i am. nasty little whisperer.

i read a lot. my room is full of books. they dont even fit on my bookshelf anymore. i know i should get rid of half of them, its not like i read them over and over, i only read a select few over and over. most of the time i'm just itching to find something new. sometimes i wonder if its because i read so much that i can be such a loser. maybe.

"maybe i'm crazy."

i love the way my thumbs feel to my fingertips. i can feel the grooves of my thumbprint. it's a nice feeling.

i wonder what the rest of my species thinksof me. i feel so small and insignificant and such. if i were to die, what would it affect? my family. my friends. aquaintances, those that hear about it. but what does it matter if they die? what dioes that affect? it would devestate their family, their friends, their aquaintances... other people. that's it. but think -- what if the entire human race were to vanish? what if there were no one left to care?

i dont know where this is going.

i just want ..... oh, so much. i want SO much! there is so much that i want. i feel ill with want. or maybe its lack of sleep. but i doo feel ill. not just physically. my mind is tired, fatigued, feverish... so is mys oul. god, can i get anymore dramatic? i soemtimes wonder if i'm just an act. i know i put on an outer show for others, a slippery venner for the world to glance at and see nothing but themselves reflected back at them -- do i put onthe same show for myself?

what does it.... oh, i'm so tired of being pathetic! no more! that's it. i'm going to bed. tomorrow i'm going to get up and live liek a normal teenager. i'm normal i'm so fucking normal. i'm normal AND happy. fucking happiest noral teenage girl ever.

oh but god, thats not wqhat i want is it??? if that were what i wnated i'd have it. what... why do i torture myself like this? i must enjoy it, why else would i??? why am i not going to bed? is it because when writing the words 'normal teenager' a wave of nausea hit me?

oh, i'm so glad no one reads this. i'm such an embarrassment to myself. although, im ust be secretly hoping someone is reading it. why else would i put it in a secret blog? if i didnt want someone to see it i'd write it in my journal.

i'm going to bed now. i'm not going to wake up normal or not normal or anything, i'm just going to go to sleep now, simply because its almost three in the morning and i'm tired. i'm going to have lovely dreams where there is someone who loves melike the characters in books and movies love each other, the kind of love where i can completely forget about myself and wrap all my thoughts around that other person. because i'm tired of thinking about me. dead dog tired.

storietelling

2006-05-21T17:00:00.000-07:00

i know i just posted, but i'm just not done. so i thought i'd write some more.

i just.. oh, i shouldn't be writing in here. why do i anyways? i suppose it's just a kind of plea for human understanding. i'm not brave enough to confront any one real with my issues, so i post them anonymously on the internet hoping some kind soul can guide me gently to enlightenment. like that'll happen. i've checked, and i'm fairly postive exactly ZERO people have viewed this page. which isn't surprising. perhaps i just need an outlet, and my journals just weren't cutting it. after all, uness you're Harry Potter ( i love those books), journals typically don't talk back.

i'd like to tell stories professionally someday. good stories, meaningful stories. not true ones necessarily, but stories that are written so that it makes no difference if it's true or not, like House of Leaves or The Celestine Prophecy. fiction or not, makes no difference. "The consequences are the same." - Mark Z. Danielewski, or Johnny Truant, whatever, House of Leaves, page xx. those are the sort of stories i'd like to tell - riveting and capturing and disturbing and fascinating and relevant to something but no one particular thing, something different to everyone. my medium of choice to tell this story is film, or book. i know i will continue to write. i've always been a writer, i always will be. i need writing, i rely on it for something. beyond me what that is. alli know is that thoughts start collecting in my head, clamoring to be heard, and they won't leave me alone until i get them out. and i very clearly do not want people i come into contact with hearing my thoughts, so i write in journals until i'm desperate, and then i resort to the secret blog hoping for an understanding stranger.

i miss my frineds so much. even for everything i've gained by moving, i feel as if i've lost so much more. even though i know i haven't really lost my friends, but it's so hard when they're 2500 miles away. i really love them, so much, i miss them. i feel so melancholy whenever i start to think of everything i'm missing out on. i think it would be bearable if i were making new friends an having a good time here. i have made a few friends, and have had a few good times, but they are few and far between. school's almost over and i have hardly anything to show for it. just one new friend and i dont even feel comfortable begin completely myself with her. the only friend i feel completely comfortable with is maria, but she lives downtown, which is about an hour away, so i dont get to see her much.

oh well. i'm leaving in august anyhow. just one summer vacation to slog through and then the experience of a lifetime. i'm so thrilled, excited, nervous, apprehensive, estatic about my exchange trip. i have trouble believing it's really true. of course, i had trouble believing me moving to texas too. oh, i need to go work on those damn history notecards. due on the last day of school postively absurd. thats what i get for taking AP.

incredible

2006-05-21T16:26:00.000-07:00

life is incredible. i'm so lucky to be alive, i really really really am. i mean, sure, i have my moments (as in not-so-great-moments) but in general, i should be on my knees thanking evolution or god or random chance or whatever or maybe even The Great Whatever (i heart douglas adams!) just because I'M ALIVE!

i breathe. i eat, sleep, read, write, talk, walk, swim, run, draw, paint, listen, dance. i'm so incredibly lucky. i have all my senses in working order.

mom and i went to the galleria (huge mall in downtown) and even though i didnt really feel like shopping and i cant afford almost everything in mall that fancy, i feel tranquil. just sort of browsed, mostly. i spent twenty dollars on a shirt, sunglasses, and two headbands. not bad. i felt a little silly buying headbands since i have virtually no hair, but they looked cute and i felt like it, so.

anyhow, most of the time i just wandered around on my own (mom was in the apple store trying to get our imac repaired, it went on the blink, quite literally). it was so interesting. i felt.. hmm. disembodied, i suppose. kind of. it was more like i was still inside my body, but i wasn't really attached to it anymore. like i was floating inside my fleshy shell. i let my hand run across the wall as i slowly whirred up the escalator, and i was surprised how soft and cool the wall was, like... cream, except not moist. i could feel the faint breezes of the air conditioning and the cool air wafting around from the ice rink in the middle of the mall. i could hear the various melodies emerging from the indivdual shops. fabric felt, feels, immensly complicated. just thinking about the feeling makes me feel it again. ah, it feels so good. the keyboard, right now, this very instant, is slick and smooth and comforting against my eager fingertips. i can feel my soul floating around in my torso. the purple paint on my walls is so deep and rich and complex, and even the computer screen is bafflilngly beautiful. i hear my music, i hear the computer, the kays clacking merrily in quick steps, the jingle of lucy's collar bell, the tv on downstairs. i can feel the faint vibration of the bass through my chair. i can smell the air... it doesn't smell like anything except air. my room.

this is why people live, this is life, this is living. feeling seeing smelling hearing tasting living.

maybe its only because i'm tired. i never do sleep enough. its not insomnia, its not that i cant fall asleep, or that i wake up too early. i never have trouble falling asleep, or staying asleep. its just i have terrible time management. for instance, i have 120 history notecards due tuesday and i should begin on them now but i'm not.

oh, its hot. especially my face. and arms and hands. i can feel me sweating. i think i'm on the verge of falling into a very peaceful sleep right here and now. my eyes just want to close but my brain is SO awake! incredible, really really incredible. if only i could always feel like this, so much.

its funny how just stroking the desktop can bring my fingertips pure ectasy. just simple and pure. i love to touch things, to memorize textures. i love recalling them later in my mind, recalling them so clearly i can feel them again, and i half expect to feel it again when i next touch something.

life really is incredible. i'm so fortunate to be alive, i think i shall try to never be ungrateful ever again.

love and blood

2006-05-21T00:22:00.000-07:00

it's 2:20 AM. i just finished watching Moulin Rouge, after having not watched for... i don't know, at least a year. i'd been listening to the soundtrack the past few days though. thats not really what i sat down to write, though, is it?

its just... listening tho the songs, alone on the bus these past few mornings... listening to the words "my gift is my song... and this one's for you..." do people really sing like that? well not sing, but feel, really say and mean things like that? i certainly never have. it makes me feel very lonely. of course, i am very lonely.

no, thats just me being melodramtic. i say that sort of thing in my head and late at night, but i dont really mean it. i have really wonderful friends, and family. i suppose i'm just wistful, you know, for a boy to give me a song, or something equally cheesy. the thing is, when i did have a boyfriend, i didn't even like that sort of thing. i mean, i did at first when it was new, but it got old fast. thank god he never said 'i love you' - that would have been awful. i proabably would said it back, thats the worst of it. oh, i wouldn't have meant it, not by a long shot, but i would've said it, just to avoid hurting feelings.

it's just i've never been in love. i love my family. i love my friends. they love me. but there have been no and are no 'in love's in my life. and there's this nasty little part of me that wants to add 'and never will be' but the majority of me balks at the thought, and rears up in angry defiance. it makes me think of the aimee mann lyrics:

"you look like
a perfect fit
a girl in need
of a tournquet
but can you save me
come on and save me
if you could save me
from the ranks
of the freaks
who suspect
that they could never love anyone
because i can tell
you know what it's like"

she says it so much better than i could. why am i always doing that? but why is it always true? why is it.. why.. why can other people....ah. why? just why. i'm so frusturated with myself. part of me is angry that i cannot say what i want on my own, another is reasonable and knows i'm young and haven't had time to grow, another is skeptical and says i sure have, another says its only because you are one of those freaks and not only will you never love or be loved, you deserve it.

how on earth am i supposed to think clearly when i have so many thoughts? and i can't even express them? or figure them out? there's more than just those, that's only a few. there are at least twenty different strains of thought in me, all runnning at once but not parallel, there all just crashing and burning and tumbling and running so fast all over one another that its hard to decipher what is wise and stupid and true and false and ugly and beautiful and anything at all.

and then there's elliot smith, whose words just pierce straight into me. and sylvia plath, her too. and i dont tell anybody that i love these two, that i feel their pain like a sister. when reading sylvia's journals i knew i was reading my journals too, and listening to elliot just invokes this amazing feeling, this deep sorrow that he had to die, that in him the evil took over or maybe all his thoughts collided in such a way that they could never become untangled.

and theres also the part of me that is furious right now that i am sitting here typing this bullshit when i should be sleeping, preparing for another day in my incredibly comfy, pampered spoiled life that i dont appreciate whatsoever. they wouldnt even let me give blood, that makes me so sad, really it does. i've given blood last year, and although, yeah, i did almost faint and had to sit in the bloodmobile for an hour afterwards, i still did it and it was worth it. but on friday after i waitied in line and filled out hte forms and got my finger pricked to check my iron and it all went alright, they couldn't find my veins in my arms, said they were too small and i'd just faint and get bruises. and they gave me a t-shirt and sent me on my way. but i had really been loking forward to giving blood. it made me feel like a good person, a real good person, when i did it last year. and i havent felt like a good person in so long, at least it seems so, that i just wanted that.

oh nevermind, i should just go crazy and they'll lock me up and then i dont know, i'd just die alone in a mental hospital like i should and life will move on properly without diseased me to hold it back.

i'm so unfair to myself, its so hypocritical. weakness in others can be fixed. weakness in myself is unacceptable. unaccceptable. i can do better. i can be better, so much better. better than this.

jane's a headcase

2006-05-18T21:27:00.000-07:00

hey there ya'll!

first things first:

at this most auspicous moment, i'm hyped up on caffine. thank you NoDoz! the reason i took a caffine pill at ten at night was to work on an in-depth book review of John Howard Griffin's immortal Black Like Me, which I have been succsessfully ignoring since I consumed the caffinated capsule. However, I have

a. eaten yogurt
b. danced around my room with funk/r&b/old school playing at obnoxious volumes (fortunately, my room is rather isolated fromt he other bedrooms where i'm sure the rest of my family is speeling, i mean sleeping, damn typos, my fingers are out of control) while trying on different variations of my sexiest clothing which i will most likely never wear anywhere then downstairs
c. create a new secret blog..

and that's about it.

i love funk music! it makes me happy! and salsa, i love salsa, and meringue (spelling?) and flamenco and bachata and reagge and raeggeton and all that excellent dancing music, and techno, can't forget techno.

oh, hi, i forgot the obligatory new blog introduction.

my name is jane. i am 17 (Last of the Eighties Born!). i live in the suburbs surrounding Houston, Texas, and it sucks, because i moved here this summer and i have only two friends here and one is depressing as all hell, although still a sweetheart, and one is really excellent but she lives in downtown, which is like an hour away. damn!

most important thing about me currently:

in august, i leave this hellhole for paradise. where i will be foreign and not only illiterate, but i can't speak the language either. but i'll be there for a year, so i'll learn. where am i going, you strange interenet folk may wonder, i'm sure. well, i'll tell you.

Brasil!!!!!

i swear, it has to be the most fucking exciting, scary thing i've ever ever signed up to do, to be an exchange student for a year.... i dont speak portugese, live with three (not just one, but three!) brasilian families and go to a brasilian high school (although since the credits dont count, i'm graduting early, in three years instead of four -- graduation is next week!).... ahhahahah!

oh shit, i need to write that review. i love the book, i really do. if i hadn't been reading it during class, that part where he's with that sweet family in the swamp would've made me cry. as it was, i almost did, even in public! crazy. i think everyone should read it, really. i admire Griffin so much for exposing all that damn injustice!

it just baffles me. how could this have actually happened?!?! and the wierdest thing is, it all happend to REAL PEOPLE! take my econ teacher, mr. ingrim. he's black, and probalby about ... 55, i'd venture. that means in the 60's he was in his early and middle teen years. and this is texas. so he'd be a black teenager growing up in the sixties. what on earth could that have been like??!? i can barely fathom it. Grififn relays the emotions and the isolation and .. jsut everything, so well, it's so fucking depressing, it really is.

ok, whats the point of having a secret blog if you're not going to make controversial confessions? so here goes:

i feel Guilty for being white.

for one thing, i cant make the claim, "oh yeah, i'm white, but it wasn't my ancestors who were racist!" because my ancestors were racist bastards. racist alcoholic bastards, the lot of them. ok, that's probably unfair, but i do have definite White Trash Heritage. and it doesn't hlep that i was raised in a mostly white, conservative community. small town northern california, i love it there, but there's a lot of hillbillies and virtually no black people. i mean, seeing an african american was something you noticed. it wasnt an Event, exactly, but it wasn't everyday either. my highschool of 1700 had 4 black students. four!! i think my guilt stems from these factors:

a. i was raised around mostly white people with no black friends or even acquaintances, really

b. because i read a lot of history, and it's just chock full of The White People Enslaved the Black People. The White People Killed the Natives. The White People Destroyed the Lives of Anyone Different. The White People Were Primarily Racist Bastards.

c. i'm insecure about myself as all hell. i'm usually pretty positive i'm a horrible person, just like my racist bastard ancestors.

d. popular media. whenever a person is referred to as 'white' it's not referring to their skin color, not really - it's something else. a soceity. same with 'black.' i dont know how to describe what's in my head, but its soemthing nasty, i can feel it.

i dont want to be racist. you know what i want? to not even have these thoughts. if i weren't racist, i wouldnt even think aobut color, would i? it's like asians and i. i know i'm not racist against asains - you know why? because i dont even think aobut it. when i see an asian or someone of asian descent i dont really note it, except as a part of their general appearance, just as if noting someone's clothes or soemthing. i think this is because one of my nest friends for the past four or five years is filipino. well, her parents are at any rate. and it was never soemthing unusual. there were a lot more asians in Redding (my town in norcal) than african-americans. so at least i'm not completely racist.

it doesn't help that my new highschool this year is such a pie of stereotypes. everyone there seems to dig themselves into this niche of what they are, just one thing. its hard to get to know people who are just one thing. its weird. most of the black kids aren't just kids, they're black kids. not all, but most.

oh my god, i bet this is all in my head. just as many white kids are into balck culture and rap and hiphop.. i mean, look at me! i'm totally in love with funk! come on, Funky Jane! i love all the soul music from the 60s and 70s, and disco and r&b and oldschool and funk. love. it.

someone tell me how to get this crap out of my mind. all i need to do probably is just make friends with a few black kids, and then i'd stop this whole 'shit am i racist?' crap. god, i feel so awful just for thinking about it.

oh! i just had a comforting thought. BRASIL! i had totally forgotten! brasil is full of black people! god, that sounds awful, but it's all just a thing of probabilty. probabilty of making friends with a black kid (without persuing them solely for their blackness, which just seems as racist as anything to me) in redding was about 4/1700, or 1/425. not very high. here in the houston burbs it's about....14/175. i have 7 classes and probalby two black kids in each class, on average. (i cant believe i'm calculating this). that's 2/25. better, but still pretty low. and since i've only made ONE friend at my highschool this year, the chances are made even less by my shyness.

god, i'm not racist, why am i even bothering with all this shit? why cant i just let it go? it's stupid history books. i have the sam eissue with native americans. i'm descended from Brits, that big bunch of colonizers and supressors of native peoples... My People Commited Genocide Agaist the Natives and then Stole Their Land, and NOw I"m Living On It. How's that for a guilt trip?

i just need to shut that litttle bastard in me that lieks to torutre the rest of me.

"hey jane! you're white. your ancestors were white. whites commonly are racist, infact, your ancestors were. they wiped out an entire culture of people and stole their land. and you live on that land. you are spoiled and pampered and comfortable in the suburbs on the land your ancestors unrightfully stole from one people after killing them, and enslaving another after kidnapping them. what a great cultural tradition."

"shut up stupid. thats stupid. i'm not racist."

"yeah, well, how many black friends do you have?"

"well, none. but that's not fair!"

"just the fact that i exsist proves my point. if you werent racist, if you were a good perosn, i wouldnt even exsist, would i?'

"shut up!"

dam damn damn. i need a brain wash.

shit!!! shit fuck holy crap i need to write that book review! due tomorrow! i mean, oh shit, today!