Don't Do It

Nestled in among the shelves of nonfiction 811's this afternoon, directions flew out at me. Writer's block has been squeezing the soul out of me and drinking it with breakfast of late. I can't even force myself to glance at my college application essays.

I had come to the library for a class, but I found myself with several beautiful minutes to explore the new jungle. My fingers traced countless bindings but did not rest until 811.54. Bukowski.

A specific book stared out at me from among his alcohol produced children. I leaned back against volumes of America's best poetry collections, felt secure in my isolated cage of a bookshelf, and opened it.

There it was. I read it gingerly at first, not able to take it all in. Then again quickly, not sure if Bukowski really was crying out the secret to every sleepless keyboard's woes.

Sitting there, the cold steel beds of poetry grating into my back, I connected with that page. That ink. Nothing else in this entire world mattered. Not my past words, not my friends, not my loves, not my life.

All there was stared back at me from the cracked typewriter of an alcoholic legend. It wasn't optimistic, it wasn't vicious. It cut through every sentence word and letter I have ever read about writing.

Call Bukowski what you will. Call poetry what you will. Life on the page has flown out of me since I could walk.

There is no other way.

And there never was.

All the Wild

It has been so long since I have been completely alone.

No one to call. No one to listen.

I forgot how lonely staring out the window on sleepless nights can be.

I hope I did the right thing. I cared so much about the mad scientist. It just turned more into a friendship. I couldn't hurt him anymore.

But how many have I done this to? Katt. Amira. Kalene. Lauren. Chad. Chapin. It keeps going.

Nights like these I wonder if I am going to screw life up. I got upset tonight over a trivial issue, and I couldn't convey why. I think I scared away a friend as a result. Who would want to be companions with a crazy one like me?

I pray I am doing the right thing. Will I get into UVA? Will I enjoy my life if I do? Am I settling? Is this my dream, or my family's?

I called lovely last night, just to see if he would answer. I forget that as life goes on here, another life goes on for him as well. I don't know why I bother. I suppose I still think about him because some of the best times in my life occurred driving wherever in that old loud mustang. Lovely was the only one crazier than me. He made me feel like maybe I belonged somewhere in this world.

I really do miss the mad scientist. I miss laughing with him. We may have been at odds a lot by the end, but we totally understood each other sometimes. If I had danced in the car with anyone else, they would have just laughed uncomfortably and wished they were home sooner. The scientist was the only one who would dance along with me.

it is so hard to let go of a puzzle piece that you were sure fit.

The others, they have their own lives. I love them so much, but sometimes I'll find myself trying to melt into the backseat while their gossip floats with the music from the dash. I just don't quite fit.

I'm sick of being the minority in political views. I am sick of people laughing at my train of thought. I am sick of people ducking out of beautiful photographic memories. I can't take feeling ugly and invisible anymore. I don't want to always be the one to initiative hanging out. I miss resting my head on the car windowsill. I miss the smell of that old mustang, looking over and seeing one of the few people I understand smiling back at me. I want dancing in the car back. I would kill for one evening without a care in the world. Where did my coffee nights go? The black and white photos of my head back, mouth eternally frozen into a laugh? Where did my ability to write run off to?

Being alone wouldn't feel so worthless if I didn't think I was always going to be the odd one out.

I am going to be 18 in 6 days. I look back on the past four years. The past 17 years. And it kills me to say I don't see anything that I kept up. Any friends I kept along. Any ideals I dragged with me.

I have been a loner all my life.
And I might just be for the rest of it.

Back to Center

Somedays, I get back to this wonderful finger worn palate and I try to remember how I used to blog. I try to remember what is important. And I think of Tony Pierce. Specifically, one now famous post which led to a book which led to me secretly reading his blog day after day after day.

Well, I used to. I missed a few days, and then I missed a few more. It turned into confession. I had missed so much, I felt guilty to look back. I was the disgruntled jazz player afraid to look under his bed for that dusty betrayed brass lover.

So today, I looked up how to blog, just to refresh myself. And oh did it. It called me out on about 4 or 5 different things.

So, yes, he's famous. And, yes, I have been scared to hit that once familiar bookmark because I felt I had missed too much. But that is what he is. A lot.

And that makes up for when we give out so little.

Down to this

With the exception of the mad scientist, I haven't been close friends with a boy in about two years.

Therefore, I'm not surprised that I am having trouble understanding the ones I come in contact with nowadays.

I dropped so many people, but the one I regret the most is the Coffee man. He got me through my first year at school. Every Monday, we would go get coffee and talk for an hour. I don't think he realized how much that kept me going.

I called him the other night and walked in to his life. He just accepted me back. I've always found a big brother in him, and it thrills me that that part in him has not changed a bit.

Other friends, however, were not so forgiving.

A real test of my relationship came about two months ago, when I called up Chokey. He used to be that boy that would keep me up late nights talking about everything. The one who When I called this time, he hated me. So I went out to dinner with him. I glimpsed a second of how life could be if I was still friends with everyone.

The Mad Scientist flipped.

Chad left me for New York last weekend. I had to be okay with it. I owe him a lot more than that.

My secret puzzles me. We've become friends of late, which is enjoyable. However, I just never know if I am being too forward for him. I can't create drama, that is not part of the agreement. But the ground is dry, and I am starting to wonder if he will call.

My curiosity frustrates the hell out of me. I've never met anyone quite like him. He seems so uncomfortable around me. I feel like I could talk to him for hours, but I know he doesn't want to. You can just tell when someone would be an incredible friend. I just don't think the feeling is mutual. I am so used to just putting all my thoughts out there with the Mad scientist. I forget that not all boys are so ready to be my friend.

And shall we forget lovely? Every night, when I drive around the corner, I unconsciously look for his car. But its just for a second. He isn't a person anymore. He is a feeling. That steel fist wrenching at your heart when you go to dial that number.

That is lovely. We all have one. Mine just happened to live down the street.

John Reaves and I are friends this year again. There is a complete absence of whatever issues we had between us. We see each other in limited doses, and I enjoy it thoroughly.

throughout all of this, I still feel invisible in the hallways. Boys have forgotten that I am there. I don't remember how they think. It scares me.

It scares me more than I care to know.

Down in Marietta

The walls of my life are crashing down around me.

I needed that so bad.

The mad scientist and I have closed shop. We had gone bankrupt months ago. It was just time to move on.

And tonight, I did something that I haven't done in years. I dragged an acquaintance out to the middle of nowhere to take pictures.

Standing there, at a tree lined crossroads with a beautiful curiosity of a friend, I remembered something

Something two years lost.

I remembered how I used to be.

The mad scientist was a blast. I learned more than I ever thought I could about a person. But I lost so much of myself. I conformed to fit the mold of the girlfriend. I gave up my coffee drinking soulmate, my lunchbox, my opinions, my innocence.

It just wasn't the right price.

I started conforming to other things in my life. Other's hated liberalism, so I stopped being open about my political views.

This evening, standing there with a curiosity, I felt so refreshed. Like I could find myself again.

But this time, I was more aware of the world around me. These past two years have taught me how to take and give. I'm so much more confident in my soul. I remember now that there is more to this life than the west end.

People are fighting, Love is gone, Secrets are flying, I'm failing AP government.

But somehow, I am so content right now.

Sometimes its more fun to be happy when things are shit than to enjoy when life is perfect. Because you know that everything will work out, and that is simply enough

to keep you smiling .