Fourth Summer of the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants is OOUTTTT.
"Forever in Blue."
I think I might post when I have pictures. I'm saving Australia stories for when I see people, because I really am in no mood to write them here. Excited for school, but also terrifically, terrifically nervous. I think I need a pocket thesaurus so that way I can stop using the word "ridiculous". That pretty much is all I have to say. Oh yeah, and JOANNA NEWSOM NEKO CASE MARTHA WAINWRIGHT CONCERT!!!!!oneoneeleventyone!!!!!!!1111
I am leaving tomorrow, and I'm sorry that I haven't been able to see most of you, but working at the store to pay off this trip has been a BITCH, as I've been working ten-hour days in that furnace that is known to outsiders as a laundromat. And yesterday, I had to do it in the dark. That's some shit. At any rate, I hope that maybe we could all do something before school starts, because I miss everyone, really and truly. I will miss you all terribly. Amanda
I'm leaving for Australia in a week. I just can't believe how fast this trip has arrived and I'm nowhere near ready for it at all. I'm a mixture of excited and anxious, mostly because I'm such a social cripple sometimes and so I can't really cope with dealing with other people outside of our school setting. Went to the camp this week and saw everyone, which was lovely, because I've really missed everyone, so truly and terribly, and I don't know, a little bit of me wants to be stupid and not go but I know that I'm going somewhere I may never go again and may never see again and I should be way more excited, but I don't know, I'm just not, not right now. Well, I am excited, but not in the way I should be. I will write people though, so everyone give me their addresses. You can screen your comments, whatever, but I really want to use all my stationery. I say that as if I really have stationery. Can we do things next week? I don't know, I feel kind of lonely. I think it's mostly because my sister came home and now she's leaving and she's going to Texas to see her boyfriend, and there's so much of me that is so angry at him because she talks about how she just wants to see him and there's nothing for her at home and how she's just waiting for this week to end. And I just wanted to spend so much time with her at home and agh it's run out. I don't know. Just feel kind of oddly disinterested.
Now I tag:-
The year is almost over. At least for us, and I can't accept this; I can't yet wrap my head around this. I feel like I'm trying to grab the edges of my life and pull it back into place, gosh it's moving too fast.
There were things, I think that I wanted to do, and I suppose that explains my general stupor of melancholy. It's just that I thought I had time you see, I thought I had time to complete things, but maybe in the end of these things, I didn't really.
It's just that, well this was a good year, for me, at least. Well, no, maybe...well, it was a better year, a kind of good that I haven't really had in a while. I am mostly proud when I look back at the things that happened this year, mostly proud at the fact of what I did, and so I guess in that respect, I'm mad at myself, because I lost that edge that I had during the year, that keenness that I took to studying.
But am I supposed to take it easy now? Is that what this is about? I feel guilty, lazy, when I do. I don't think I'm working hard enough.
I know i'm thinking too much, but that's the way I am, the way I think I'll always be, all lazy limbs and bouncing brain that jumps up and down like some freakishly active dog saying
But that's the thing, loves, I don't know what comes next. I never really know what comes next.
We're not supposed to, I know, we're not supposed to know but I have to figure it out because if I don't I'm never going to be able to sleep; I'll always be waiting for things to happen and waiting to piece everything of my past together to make some large, crooked arrow, an estimation of a future that points to a very unknown destination that scares me.
But I'm not supposed to.
I get this.
I just don't practice it, is all.
Been reading The Virgin Suicides . That book is beauty. It's made of all the most beautiful molecules and printed on all the most beautiful paper and written with all the most beautiful words.
If there are all these books, if there all these books which scratch at the soul, how does anyone in the world expect us to not fall in love with fiction?
I say nay. I will none of it, is what.
Don't tell me my love is a lie when it can speak so loudly, and with such terribly aching sounds.
"We realized that the version of the world they rendered for us was not the world they really believed in..."
watched some battlestar today.
was more annoyed earlier, but now very diffused by the fact that the variety show is coming up and i'm banging my head against the wall with this skit. it's so terribly bad that i don't know what to do with it.
in any case.
i was freakin' pissed as hell that the "black market" episode had to occur. just awful. what is this new, "we need flashbacks every episode" policy? was this some sort of contractual obligation? explanations please. and you can't begin every episode in the middle and then work backwards, i'm sorry.
essentially i just miss the integrity of the first two seasons, although to be fair, scar? amazing episode. mostly because it = starbuck, and that was good. and that scene where she's facing the raider and she's just wide eyed and facing death unflinchingly? too much.
i am mostly sad though because it's no longer starbuck/apollo. like it just doesn't make as much passionate sense anymore and i don't want to admit to that. i just want it to be simply necessary like it was before, and now they both have some other sort of person and why won't it stop?
why are they doing this? and duallla/lee? not necessary.
just stop fucking with apollo, essentially is what i'm saying.
although, i was EXTREMELY happy with adama/roslin action going on. so sweet.
but then that was countered by the fact that they CURED HER CANCER WITH CYLON FETUS BLOOD. what the fuck. seriously people.
anyway. i have to get back to my skit-writing and then history and then canada.
so tired of parents right now.
after the choir performance i told them how i saw them in the audience and they didn't smile AT ALL. not at one point. mind you, we did thirteen different songs. THIRTEEN. not a single smile, not a single moment of enjoyment.
afterwards when i brought this up, they said simply: "we just didn't like parts of it" which most closely means: "we didn't like it. why do you want us to waste our time like this?" and then my dad told me that i should wear makeup to events like that.
which admittedly, i shouldn't have translated literally in my head, but what did he want me to say? yes? sure? i know i look ugly without it?
i mean, it's like they say things, receive a response and then get annoyed because i reacted. what kind of reaction are they looking for?
it's just that i try to be better, try to be good at things, and it just doesn't happen. they just don't believe that i'm trying.
i just want to curl up a little and pretend that it's okay to be mediocre, something which i know i'll never be able to accept.
i should be more appreciative, but i just can't. i want them to believe that i do all of it to make them proud. that i do all of it because i can't stand the thought of letting them down.
and i always get it wrong.
Who knows how to make love stay?
1. Tell love you are going to Junior's Deli on Flatbush Avenue in Brooklyn to pick up a cheese-cake, and if love stays, it can have half. It will stay.
2. Tell love you want a momento of it and obtain a lock of its hair. Burn the hair in a dime-store incense burner with yin/yang symbols on three sides. Face southwest. Talk fast over the burning hair in a convincingly exotic language. Remove the ashes of the burnt hair and use them to paint a mustache on your face. Find love. Tell it you are someone new. It will stay.
3. Wake love up in the middle of the night. Tell it the world is on fire. Dash to the bedroom window and pee out of it. Casually return to bed and assure love that everything is going to be all right. Fall asleep. Love will be there in the morning.
- Tom Robbins
I wish I could express this in real words. Words that aren't borrowed, or stolen or dreamt up, or ephemeral, but words that stand and speak and are heard simply because they are meaningful, and not because they ask.
I want to express things because they are necessary, because they are worth expressing, not because they sound good when beat upon my ears.
There is a comprehension I am lacking, a cohesive element to most thought.
Forgive me, everyone, for writing these things; I mean to tell you all that I just want to make something beautiful.
I suppose I will have to settle for secret.
maybe, in the end, it would be better to do something good.
maybe, after all of this, that would be the most beautiful.
that would be all right.
my relatives are gone.
why does guilt pile up like pages of books i haven't read?
i won't go to australia like this. i refuse to be that daughter.