So, Maybe You Were Right

Yesterday, as my brother and I were getting home from some last minute christmas shopping, because we'd done exactly zero, and the little that we had just finished amounted to a grand total of half an hour, he told me I should write about him on my blog more.  I, of course, forgetting that the internet is a big and open place, merely looked at him in stunned silence and said, "How did you know about my blog?" and he was all like, "well it isn't exactly hard to find ya know." And then I felt like a bit of an idiot as I so rarely do.

But he's probably right, as he so frequently is in his quiet and kind way. So, Gabriel, you were right. Thank you for bringing to my attention this grave misstep on my part. A thousand pardons.  And, this one's all for you brother.

I think I've probably loved you since day one.  Well maybe not day one of my existence, I was probably a bit frightened of your disproportionately large head and small body and those big blue eyes you had.  But, day one of consciousness.  The first memory I have is of going to see Sophie in the hospital, and bringing her that purple elephant, the one Erin helped me pick out.  Erin held one of my hands, and you held the other, and I was so, so scared of the little tiny alien on that white hospital bed who had taken our mother away for a few days.  But you were there.  And I was okay.

You were the first friend I ever had.  I longed to be exactly like you, with your skill at legos and lincoln logs, your talent for making our mother love you, and for coming up with the best game ideas.  Did I ever tell you about the time Kai and I made a list (full disclosure, it was a bunch of scribbles because we didn't know how to write) of the ways we wanted to be like you and Jon Luc?  And then the time you swallowed the marble? That was the first time I've ever remembered being pissed at you, because I had to miss my ballet class, and that obviously meant that my talent for dancing was being squandered on taking you to the emergency room.  Remember Julia and Erin?  How much fun we had with them, even when we went back to visit?  I loved going to the yogurt store, the bagel store, the toy store, with you and them and Jon Luc and Kai.  Remember the tricks you and Chris used to play on Emma and I?  Remember the greenhouse, the overgrown one right next to our purple house, how we used to go in there and pretend we were pokemon.

And the first day we were in Vermont, the first day of the Warren School.  Do you remember how scared we both were?  But, we still got out of the car, clutching our backpacks, and walked in holding Mom's hand, like we were fearless.  Remember beyblades and Yu-gi-oh and dragon tales?  Do you remember my special painted chair and how when you sat in it I would get mad, but secretly I hoped some of your coolness would rub off onto the chair and then onto me.  Remember the birthday party when we got to paint wooden swords and shields and fend each other off around the purple house?

Do you remember when we went to Florida, how we played volleyball in that pool everyday with Sophie, lifting her over the net because she was too small?  Remember Atlantis and how you wouldn't go down the big slide that went through the shark tank until I had?  Do you remember the first day at Mad River, when we got those french fries and smiled at each other?  Remember two summers ago? How much of a mess that rafting trip was?  But the only time I was happy was when I was in one of those two person rafts with you.

All the best car rides have been with you.  All the best music jam sessions and spontaneous dancing and best food belong to you.  The best laughs, scariest movies and TV shows, skitching and fireworks are yours.  You were my first friend, the one I wanted to be so badly.  You were the one who taught me so much, who still shows me up.  Your the one I still look up to, the one I still wish I could be.  I've always felt like its been the two of us, always the two of us, the one I can count on to pull me out of bitch mode, the one who makes our family laugh, who keeps us all sane. You are the glue. And of course we fight because people fight.  But at the end of the day I'd still rather be telling you my results and having you make a joke out me falling at literally every single race, than anywhere else.

Thank you, for teaching me how to be a good friend, and an even better person.  Thank you for making me laugh, and continuing to inspire and teach me.  I love you, whether or not I tell you enough, and I promise I'll write more about you on this blog.  Happy?

On another, unrelated note, Merry Christmas eve! I was woken up this morning with a text from Kara, telling me ITS CHRISTMAS EVE!!! Because yesterday I woke her up saying, ITS CHRISTMAS EVE EVE! We are a little excited.  

Be thankful for the family and friends you have. I know I am. Merry Christmas.

"Come to me, clear and cold 
On some sea
Watch the world spinning waves
Like that machine"

"Were we the belly of the beast, or the sword that fell?

We'll never tell"

If Wishes were Fishes

Some Things Can't Just Happen
I wish to be obsolete so that I can watch all the birds and beautiful people float by.  They'll tip their hats at me as they go, smiling and waving hello.

I wish I was somewhere other than here, somewhere the stars surround me, somewhere the sun will rise and fall just for me.

I wish the voices in my head would go on vacation and let me think, for once.

I wish I was with you, up in the clouds where words don't sting as much
and the people are all peculiar.

Where we could be surrounded by cotton candy and sheep are counted.

I wish wishes were fishes.

But if wishes were like fishes, common and usual
then would they be wishes anymore?
Or would they become obsolete
Just as I hope to be.

Laika Come Home
Laika come back down to earth
Laika don't fly so close to the sun
Laika you'll surely be burned
Laika you'll surely be knocked down
Laika come home
Laika, please come home

24 Hours of Happy

All in all, it's been a pretty good week. Stuff is really starting to make sense, whether it's in SAT tutoring, schoolwork, and skiing (scratching the fantastic fail that was this weekend- thats right, blowouts on both runs) seem to finally be going somewhere which is not something I tend to say often.

But I like being back at school again because I get to see all the people who are going to leave me in a matter of a few months (i'm talking about the seniors).  And while this prospect saddens and scares me beyond belief, it makes me realize I only have a few more months to enjoy their company.  So, I'm planning on doing that, because it makes me happy and I'm more than determined to be happy for as long as I can this year because I've failed so miserably at that in the past.  So I'm trying something new this year.

And my foray into happiness doesn't mean there won't be tough or sad or just plain awful moments because without those, life is one never ending ray of sunshine-which isn't what I'm looking for.  I'm more going for a soundness in the body and mind that the company of those who you like can elicit.  And the fact that all these people I really have grown to love in the past few months are going to leave really soon, really just means I'm going to have to appreciate the time I get with them a lot more.

In Colorado, I was really too wrapped up in my own drama to realize how much fun it was.  And the thing that woke me up to that, when we were back home, was something I never thought would.  A boy on the bus was making fun of something I'd done with someone else, and Ellie and Sammi completely shut it down the minute it happened.  I've never had friends who stood up for me so completely and so immediately like that.  Like ever.  And it surprised me, so I sat there for a few minutes trying to figure out what to say.  And then I texted Ellie, who was separated from me (I didn't text Sammi because she has a junky phone and is awful at texting back) by bags and bodies, and just said, simply "Thanks."  And she wrote back, "anytime."  And the entire experience make me almost forget the mean thing the boy had said.

It made me realize that at the end of the year, I'm going to have to say goodbyes to all these girls, and even guys, who I hopelessly and completely love and it is going to totally suck.  The compassion I've felt from people for the past few months, whether it was through dirty chairlift jokes, discussion's of a certain english teacher's physique, misguided attempts that ended in tears, hugs, and promises of marriage, discussions of ethics and morality in gray vans, or fake fall ball proposals, has been unreal and it's made me pull myself away from jumping into the deep end I was in last year.

It's made me realize that living, having fun, experiencing life as fully as you can, while you still can, is really really important.  And I know that sounds corny, but lets play along for my sake okay?

And I don't say it often, but it is really hard to tell people how i feel. Super hard. Because I hate being vulnerable, I hate being hurt because its just all too familiar for me. Having these people has helped me trust again, trust that I can tell people how I feel about them and they will simply smile and give me an oreo and say, "Honey, I already knew that."

Bottom line-I love you guys a lot.  Thank you for saving me, and I know I don't tell you it very much, but I appreciate you more than anything else.  You're the best.

"Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof
Clap along if you feel like happiness is the truth
Clap along if you know what happiness is to you
Clap along if you feel like thats what you wanna do."

"A friend is one who knows you and loves you just the same"

"Sunshine, she's here, you can take a break."

Up Here It's Blue

Counting today, I have three days left in Colorado.  It's been a long three weeks.  There have been quite a few late night team bonding sessions, mac and cheese, a few failed lange girl shoots, lots of pinball before dinner, several Austin Power movies, innumerable van jam sessions, deep conversations with Toby, play fighting with Chris, capture the flag plays, capture the flag with snowball plays, walks up the wheelchair accessible path, walking up and down the halls with no clothes, and there were, admittedly, a few near death experiences, mostly due to our own stupidity and refusal to just take the easy way up the hike.  All in all, it's been a really fun trip, with really good skiing, and really fun people, which is not something I'd ever thought I'd say about the whole of our group, but I can't really complain about the whole of this trip.  There were a few nights with tears, mostly due to some person not at this specific camp.  

When you get really close to someone, you forget what it's like when they aren't around.  You forget the late night talks, the hugs and the food they bought for you, the punches and scary movies, the kind, and not so kind words, you forget that this can all just go away.  You get so used to the routine you've built, you figure out their sore spots, their nuances, their hopes and their dreams, their fears and their hardships.  I think it's a saying that you don't know what you have until it's gone.  Because when it's gone, it's really gone and it really sucks.  All you want is the love you felt for this person before, the friendship you had. 

It's even worse when you know it's over because of your own stupidity, your own refusal to listen to what this person was trying to tell you.  And that even though their attempts to make you listen were extremely rude and misguided, all they wanted was to help you.  It's hard to accept that.  Really hard. Like unreasonably so. 

Being away from it all for the past three weeks has really helped.  Up in the mountains, it's easy to forget your problems.  The sun shines on the sparkling snow, and the whole place smells of evergreen.  The endless mountains rise to form a never-ending landscape of snow and beauty.  As soon as my skis hit the snow, and I take a deep breath of the air, it almost feels like nothing could ever go wrong, even though it already so terribly has.    And even for those really hard nights, I look outside.  

The moon bathes the landscape in an ethereal glow, the mountains fluidly sloping on and on.  The stars twinkling and the quiet only forests can provide. 

It's hard not to feel at peace.

(full disclosure, I am now sitting in the airport because I couldn't post this because i didn't have enough internet at the house)

Love, Anonymous

Do you remember the day that I showed up at your door, in the pouring rain?  And of course I was crying, because I always cry, no matter how much I don't want to.
Do you remember what you did? How you took me inside and gave me dry clothes and wrapped me in a blanket and sat me on the couch and told me it was going to be okay, that we'd always be okay, even when I knew it wasn't true?
Do you remember those nights I told you stories that I'd never told anyone before, stories I've still never told anyone?
Do you remember how we looked up at the stars in the cool summer air through the crooked slats in the barn, with straw in our hair?
Do you remember the times we took the canoe out onto the lake, how we looked for salamanders, our still tiny hands searching in the water?
Do you remember the secrets we shared, the tears we had, the unconditional love that only children can share?

Because I miss it all.  More than anything I miss it all.

Do you remember the day I had to say goodbye to you?  How we sat in front of the big green car, trying not to wail, trying not to end it.  Because if we didn't say goodbye, it wouldn't have to be over, right?
We were so foolish, so young, so caught up in how much we loved each other, how much we didn't want it to end.
It was a safety blanket, we were a safety blanket.  The kind that a child can't give up because it's the only thing they've ever known that will never disappoint them.

Unlike their mothers, it won't ignore them.  It won't focus on others.
Unlike their fathers, it won't yell, it isn't possible of hate.
Unlike older brothers, it won't exclude, it isn't jealous.
Unlike younger sisters, the babies they were, it won't cry.

We were so alike.  Our names, our eyes, our families, our age, our birthdays.  We felt like we'd finally found someone who'd understand us, who'd accept us.  
Someone who wouldn't shout, who wouldn't leave.
Someone who would take us out of the rain and dry our tears.

The day I left is still the saddest day I've ever experienced.
Because we had to say goodbye to the only person we loved, in the world.  The only person who finally, finally, finally, understood us.

Isn't it sad, the way we left it?
And sure, I came back.
But it was never the same.
And it never could be.

But I loved you, I loved you so much it hurt.
And I still love you, the way your brown hair fell into your eyes, the dimples when you smiled.  I loved the chicken legs and arms we shared, the tan skin and long fingers.
I loved the hot chocolate you made me, the mud pies you carved my name into.
I loved it all, I'll always love it.

And I'll always miss it.

Love,
Anonymous

Beware

It's the week from hell.  The one I, without fail, know is coming yet somehow manage to not plan accordingly for.  I'm tired, I'm sick.  I have to get onstage in front of a bunch of people in a mere matter of days (as in Thursday) and somehow embody this styrofoam dragon, that at the moment, closely resembles a rotisserie chicken (sorry Nate, thanks for making this thing).  And I'm petrified.  On top of that, I did not do well on my history test, despite having studied for it, religiously, for about a week.  That goes to show my luck.  And I have homework and working out and other freaking people to worry about and it's killing me.  And I have to remember to eat on top of all that.  Life is overwhelming.

I miss the days when everything was so simple.  Nobody pressured you to do things you didn't want to do, and then didn't get mad at you when you didn't do said things.  If I wanted to do those things, I would do them.  Thats it.  And it doesn't mean I don't care about you if I don't want to do those things, it just means I don't want to do those things and that is the END of the discussion.  So you can deal.

I'm beginning to feel the familiar itch of last spring/winter.  Because for a while, I've been pretty good.  No meds, no anxiety attacks, not too many sleepless nights (a manageable amount), no frantic panic, no refusals to listen to anything, no hysterics, for a good few months.  I'm pretty proud of that.  But I'm terrified it's going to start again.  Like, absolutely petrified that I will find myself in the huge hole I was in at the end of the last school year, the one I've almost managed to dig myself out of.  And that this time, I'll let the dirt cover me completely, and unlike last time I won't want to get out.  I'll want to die.

I just hope that day never comes.

"You should beware beware beware."

"Nobody said it'd be easy, they knew it was rough
But, tough luck"

Quotes of the Day

"I like my alien performers dark and sexy as well."-Gabe, best brother ever.

"This is a judgement free zone."-All of the girls who slept over at my house, in reference to all the food we were eating

"Okay, well I'm getting the large.  With whipped cream.  It's been a fat day. Actually a fat week. It's been a fat year."-Christine

Thats it.

Hold On, We're Going Home

Yesterday my advisor, Kerry, asked me whether or not I wanted to drop my physics class because it sucks so much, and I was like, why are you asking me?  Shouldn't there be somebody older handling that?  Fast approaching is the day where I will have to make those kind of decisions for myself on a much larger scale, and I will be so far out of my league it isn't even funny.

Actually, that isn't true.  I've made some decisions, recently, involving a certain aspect of my life that I don't really want to delve into.  But it really sucked and it was the right thing to do, but it still really sucked.  And I've made decisions on friends, food, clothes, classes, standing up for myself and, now that i think about it, I've been pretty independent and making decisions for myself for a really long time.  I mean, I was that kid who made themselves grilled cheese and picked out their own clothes because they didn't want their mother to pick them out for them.  And growing up and making grown up decisions is hard, but it will be really worth it.

But even though life is really hard, lately it feels like it couldn't get any better.  I mean, I still have to worry about college and the SATs and play and my homework, but it just feels like there are all these wonderful and vivacious and just loving people around me, and that for me not to be happy is a crime.  Just a straight up crime.  There's good music to listen to, I have a really comfortable bed, my parents and my siblings love me, I live in the most beautiful place in the world, and my friends like me.  My friends appreciate me.  And yeah, there are the occasional mean girls, and for that matter guys.  But it feels like I have this army of people standing behind me who understand, and who stand up for me.

The people that I cry in front of, give me hugs and then say we're going to get married one day.  They people/brothers that offer to beat up awful people for me.  The girls who I play contact with on our hikes, the girls whose room I spent more time in then my own room in chile.  The people who watch shameless with me, who teach me how to play xbox like a true gamer, who invite me to go on their zombie runs, who give me their hats on plane trips because I express concern about the severe grossness of my hair.  The people who, without fail, let me sit in their room and eat oreos and ask nothing in return.  The people who set off fireworks with me, who let me hold their hands, who sing obnoxiously with me on the chairlift and tell an obscene number of jokes, dirty and otherwise.

I just really want to say thank you.  You have no idea how great my life is because of you, and I have no idea how to show my thanks to you, to the world.  My cheeks hurts from smiling.  Life has never felt even close to this fun before.  I'm having fun, I'm kind of just going with it.  And I can honestly say I've never done that before because I may or may not be a bit of a control freak.

So thanks.  Carry on, and I'll just keep smiling.

There's a spirit in Montana and in your chest, a soul
Oh what a soul 

I love these roads where the houses don't change (and I like you)
Where we can talk like there's something to say (and I like you)

Into the Wild Green Yonder

So, this summer I worked a lot.  Like that's all I did.  I mean besides working out.

Okay, that sentence wasn't entirely factual.  What it really should have said was, during the day, all I did was work, work out, and do SATs.  However, during the night I filled it with people I find amusing, namely a certain girl with carrot colored hair who I've been best friends with since before I can remember.  And you know, others.  Actually I was really proud of myself this summer because I was almost never home, I was either working or running or at school lifting or at the Lanser's doing math.  Or, I was at the movies, in burlington, swimming, or frequenting the Asiana noodle house because that place is the best thing to happen since the invention of leggings (if I've never told you I hate jeans during the winter with a passion, and people actually get surprised when they see me wearing them).

But anyways, I've gotten to know myself pretty well during the course of this summer, mainly because i spent so much time talking to other people, and formulating my opinions.  On, oh lets say, everything and anything.  But what I've come to realize is that I'm really weird.  like, I'm not as out there as some other people, but once you really get to know me, I'm weird.  And I'm much more okay with this situation than I thought I'd be.  Yeah, I'm the girl who watches Doctor Who and avidly discusses it with another enthusiast who wears a TARDIS hat, you know who you are, and I still think Ozzy is better than Amy.  So there.  I'm also the girl who would rather watch the show Girls with my friend than go out and go partying.  I'm the girl who loves being witty, who loves dirty jokes and chairlift conversations about sex.  I'm also the girl who is terrified of sex and boys and the world.  I contradict myself, I embrace life and at the same time I hate it.  I am the girl who spent the last three days not eating and puking and I'm the girl who frequently falls when walking.  I'm that girl who puts sunglasses on her cat, takes pictures of it and then puts in on Instagram.  I'm weird and I'm funny and I'm quiet and I'm loud and I love it.  And every day, I'm learning to love it more.

I know I've struggled with hating myself, and I do have the occasional bad day, or bad week.  But I feel like I'm finally okay admitting to the world that I'm really weird, and you can like it and thats great, snaps to you, and you can not like it and thats great, snaps to you too.

And thats about it.

"The way is clear, the light is good.  Into the woods"

In other news, Miley Cyrus has gone full tilt, and I can't decide whether I think it's hilarious or just tragic.
Both my roommate and Ellie called me funny, which I'm still dying over because they're both hilarious, so yeah that was the high point of my week.

Words Of Wisdom

So, I'm in Chile.  Anyways, my dad has been sending me emails, mostly to comfort himself, but probably also to comfort me.  Also to tell me that my grandmother is still alive because she had open heart surgery, and to tell some scary stories about the ICU and my uncle.  Anyways, I have probably told you, but when my dad is in a good mood, and feeling philosophical and not at all pompous, I love to listen to him talk.  He doles out life advice, tells jokes, gives insight on events and just generally makes me feel like a good human being.  But his most recent email made me really really sad.  

Both of us are kind of of the same belief, death is inevitable and isn't something to fret over.  You can obviously be sad about it, and about the fact that you are leaving behind the world we live in, but it will come and there is nothing a person can do about it.  

In his email, he told me about the waiting room in the ICU, how there were these little knots of people, almost like their own communities, waiting for news of their loved ones fate.  And he said that when he went out to get himself and my great uncle a soda, after having talked to my grandma's surgeon and determining that she was alright, he saw a little community come screaming out of the room.  And when he said screaming, he literally meant screaming.  Like these little kids were throwing themselves on the floor and these women were pounding walls and this man just kept yelling and yelling.  He said it made him cry.  

But he also said it made him think of me and my brother, and how much he misses us already and how much he loves us.  He said he thought how one day we would be the ones screaming down the halls, and while it made him really sad it also reminded him of the love that exists in our world.  And then he told us how much he loved us again, and he gave us a little tip and signed it, love, pop.

He's a really good guy, and an even better dad.  And I'm really lucky he's willing to share his feelings and his thoughts and his love with me.  It makes me really happy, but it makes me dread the day that I have to walk down the hall, crying and pounding my fists against the wall.  It's alright though.  Because death is inevitable.

"We all stand in the mountainous shadow of our mortality so get the most of what you can while you can."  

On and On and Beyond

In the past few weeks, I've done little other than school, Mountain biking, and strength.  Well, that isn't true but those three are the most prevalent.  Anyways, the first time I went mountain biking kind of soured me on it for a while. I remember thinking I was finally done with the hard parts when we got to the top of tlb, that the ride was just going to be easy cruising from here on out.  Because how hard could going downhill be right?  Wrong, very, very wrong.  So, at the top, Steve told me just to keep my feet even on the pedals, lift my butt off the seat, and I'd be a-okay.  Well, I did that, went top speed, and crashed into a tree and sprained my ankle, and ripped my pants.  I then had to ride all the way up Bragg Hill because Cindy didn't believe me when I said that yes, it did felt like I'd broken my ankle.

When we got back to school and I went to PT, Evita told me that my ankle was three times the size it was supposed to be, it was already bruising and that I wasn't allowed to walk on it for a few days.  Cue my first experience with crutches.  And I was extremely mad at Cindy because Evita told me that if I hadn't had to bike up Bragg it wouldn't have been half as bad.  I think I went Mountain Biking once that year, after that first time.  I hated it, and walked my bike all the way down.

The next fall, we went mountain biking once on tlb, and it went fine, I only sprained my ankle, but not badly, and I finally went down a hill and over a tree.  I was ecstatic, believing I was now a professional mountain biker.  Again, I was so very wrong.  Because that spring, when Ben and Mikki took us mountain biking in Randolph, or somewhere near there, misfortune fell upon my head like a two ton brick wall.

We had finally biked all the way to the top of the last hill, over what felt like miles and miles of shale and never-ending incline.  I was tired, hot, and annoyed that Ben had made me work this hard, but, nonetheless was excited for the downhill, because those trails we all man made, and had little trees or rocks to bumps into, and were wide and almost clear cut.  It was ideal.  I think it was maybe the first or second hill we went down, after taking a group picture at the top, talking about the play for the next year, and Katie Campbell's impending knee surgery, when I fell.  I mean, I got a little over-confident and started flying, flying, down the shale and when Ana stopped because she was scared, I did the thing you are never, ever, ever supposed to do.  I pushed the front brakes, and only the front brakes.  And I flipped over my handlebars, my bike leaving gear marks and tire skids all over my clothes, face and legs.  I then slid, headfirst, into the bank my bike had already found.  I sat there, for a good minute, trying to understand what had happened, why I couldn't breathe, and what was going on.  I tried to unclip my helmet, but as I felt the top of it, I knew that wouldn't have really done much.  I'd split my helmet.  like, almost clearly in two.  And I could hear a girls voice yelling, I think it was something like, "MIKKI! Katy's dead!!"  I tried to call out, to tell this frightened person I was fine, but I couldn't speak.
So I waited until the air returned to my lungs and picked myself up, meeting Mikki's and Mika's and Ana's eyes.  I was quite embarrassed, and they were probably worried.  I walked my bike down, all the way, after all the girls had gone by, crying.  And I didn't mountain bike for a while after that.  Wonder why.

Anyways, this past summer, and even these past few weeks, I've really improved my mountain biking. I mean, I can almost keep up with Kara and Nate, and for those of you who don't understand what a big deal that is, its a big deal for me.  Because I can finally, finally, push myself hard going down those hills.

Anyways that wasn't really relevant to anything but i liked the story.  I'm going to Chile tomorrow.  This week was an emotional rollercoaster.  Last night was a very good night, and today would have been a very good day if life hadn't gotten in the way, as life tends to.  It's fine.  It's always fine.

Gazelles and Purple Elephants:

The words are so loud in my head I wonder how they don't break out
Running towards the horizon like the heard of wild animals they are
And the sun eclipses them and they are heard
And someone can finally, finally understand
finally stand under the sun with me
And I can pass the baton to someone else
like I did with the purple elephant that day in the hospital
When she was still so tiny and new
That day I said the words and didn't know what they meant
And I still don't know what they mean
But now all I can see are the stars
My skin still warm from the sun
And the hope that came along with it
Before I stepped on that plane and flew away from the sun
Whose warmth felt everlasting
There were no words running then
I wonder if they will ever be truly free
And as I've always done I kept running
I jumped in the train and let it take me
Every time it jolted on the rails I pretended it didn't hurt
But it did
And I'm still waiting for the train to crash
And the animals and heards to escape
And I can finally, finally stand under the sun
And someone can finally understand what those words mean
What I mean
And someone can finally know all the things I know
And I will stand in the sun
Letting it totally and completely eclipse me
As if I never was there
And had always known its warmth

What We Talk About When We Talk About Mental Health

So, a few nights ago i stayed at my friends house.  It was right after the circus show, and i went out with friends, and this other friend messaged me and was like, oh come over, and i was like, yolo, it's my last day of summer.  Not exactly the most intelligent strand of thought i've ever had, but I'm sixteen, I'm afforded a certain amount of stupid decisions.

So, we made a campfire and roasted marshmallows and by the time we wanted to go inside, it was like ten o'clock, and the woods were becoming creepy.  But, disaster had to rear it's ugly head, of course, and one of the older dogs had gone missing, and we had to drive around for hours looking for her, and she eventually just showed up at their house soaking wet and covered in mud.  Anyways, that's not the point of the story.

The point is the part when her mother told us that if we were to see the dog, dead on the road, we couldn't tell her, because she wouldn't have mentally been able to handle it. I mean, I believed her because she was screaming and crying and running in the road for the entire two hours the fucking dog was missing.  Like, the entire time.

But my big question was, why would you make your children, or children you know, deal with something hard like that, like a dead squished dog.  Children are the ones who are supposed to be sheltered and cared for and never have to make difficult decisions.  But lately I've realized that isn't exactly how the world works.  Because recently, I've noticed I carry a lot on my shoulders.  And a lot of it is pressure from myself, but I realized why I'm always stressed, why the panic attacks are so frequent, why the anxiety keeps me up too many nights to count.  It's because I have a lot to deal with.  It's a lot, this shitty business of growing up.  I guess it's nicer when you see adults all put together because then you have normality to look forward to.

But then I started thinking back on the many times I've seen adults acting like that.  First of all, it scares the shit out of you.  Because if our parents and teachers and uncles and aunts aren't put together, then what the hell is going to happen to an emotional sixteen year old girl?  Secondly, it makes you realize that your parents and teachers and uncles and aunts were also once your age, and also had to deal with all the bullshit of being a teenager, or, more in general, being a person.

Because it is a lot to figure out what you want to do, finish your schoolwork, workout, do well on the SATs, be a good skier, get into a good college, take care of your skis, yourself, and anybody else who needs it, and then to formulate your own opinions on EVERYTHING with constant pressure from everywhere.  And, on top of all this, you have to deal with really shitty people.  So, in short, growing up is a lot, and keeping yourself mentally in the game is a lot more.

But, in the end, I think it's worth it.  I mean, I hope it's worth it.  Because otherwise I will have put myself through hell for nothing.

And, essentially, we're all just scared, and some people know how to mentally keep themselves in check, and others don't.  I think the struggle is probably what makes a person who they are.

"Like all energy, we can only change shapes and sizes and manifestations. They forget that when they get old. They get scared of losing and failing. But that part of us greater than the sum of our parts cannot begin and cannot end, and so it cannot fail."

- thank you mr. John Green for making me feel quite a bit better. 

Ask Alice

Things can get really rough.  I mean, for a while back there, they were really, really rough.  I mean they still kind of are, but its probably the lack of sleep that's making me crankier than anything.  But that's not the point.  The point is that life can get you into some sticky situations.  And in the movies, at the end of these sticky situations, everyone bands together and like, puts their play on, makes a movie, wins something, etc.

Wouldn't it be nice if life was just like that? If there were no monsters in heads, children only spoke when spoken to, and everything ended up with a rosy tint?  Well, the truth is, a lot of the time, it isn't going to end up that way.  Not to say that it will be bad, but nothing really ever ends up the way you expect it.  I mean, at least in my sixteen years of experience.

I watched a movie about a little girl named Phoebe who was really troubled, and the movie was really sad, but it was also really full of hope.  And I usually hate movies like that, but this one really struck a chord with me.  It dealt a lot with mental illness, which is something I think should be talked about more.  Having suffered from various forms of depression, social anxiety, among other things, I can say that I sort of understand what this kid was going through, but like, not really.

The one thing I understood was how she felt.  How awful life was, how badly she felt about every single choice she made, every single person she hurt.  When Phoebe jumped from that catwalk, I understood.  I understood that all she wanted was to go down the rabbit hole, to meet Alice and to never go back.  She just wanted everyone around her to stop getting hurt, she wanted to stop feeling so badly about everything in life.  I've been there, done that.  Haven't we all?

But at the end, Phoebe didn't need Alice, or any rabbit holes or tea parties, complete with queens and painted roses.  Phoebe needed love, and guidance.  And it didn't matter who that came from, as long as it came from someone.

And in the end, it was alright.  And it always will be, because humans were meant to keep going, no matter who dies, what diagnoses come, what people disappoint, and what things are said.  And the going gets really rough, but you kind of have to stick it out, even when you feel like pulling your nails out, laying down, and accepting death.

If you don't believe me, you should go ask Alice.  Just make sure that before you jump, theres a ladder in your rabbit hole.


"Go ask Alice, when she's ten feet tall."

"it's your heart, it's your life, it's pumping blood."

Everything will always turn out alright.  If it is not alright, it is not the end.

I love You, In a Cloud Atlas Kind of Way

So I've watched snippets of the movie Cloud Atlas, which is arguably one of the best movies I've ever seen.  Maybe snippets is the wrong word?  I've seen large portions of the movie, basically the entire thing, just not put together.  I mean, until a few days ago, when my brother convinced me to watch it.  And it's a really good movie.

Favorite Quote? : "All boundaries are conventions, waiting to be transcended."

For those of you who haven't seen it, please do as soon as possible, but in case you don't have the patience to sit through a fully three hour movie, heres a summary.  A bunch of people in different times and different worlds and places and situations, are all jammed into one movie.  They use all the same actors throughout every single one of the scenarios.  It's a bit scary.  So yeah, thats the movie.  It's kind of hard to explain actually.  In fact, it's a really incomprehensible movie.  I mean, collectively, this is about the second or third time I've seen this movie, and there are a few things that have bothered me each time.

                             "This world spins by the same unseen forces that twist our hearts."

This statement bothers me a bit, because for one thing I don't understand it, but it was in one of the pivotal scenes with Susan Sarandon and Tom Hanks, in the future, but I don't get it.  Well I mean I get it, but I don't get the connotations that come along with it.  Okay, no I definitely don't get it.  And the whole dialect Tom Hanks and Halle Berry use, I mean, what was that? Like abbreviated English or something?  It seemed stupid to me.  And why did the good people have to die, like the Chinese robot girl?  Well, I mean obviously she had to be a martyr but couldn't her and that Chang guy have lived happily ever after in their own time, instead of in the story about the man who bonded with the slave, and said slave saved him from a greedy doctor sort of looking Tom Hanks who was poisoning him?  And how was Sixsmouth still alive in 1973 California?  That was the thing I really didn't get at all.

But the thing that bothered me the most was this repeated phrase.  Like, it was one of the only cohesive pieces that spanned throughout the entire movie.

                        "Our lives are not our own.  From womb to tomb we are bound to others, and by each crime and kindness we birth our future."

After I heard that for about, say, the fifth time, I realized something.  This movie wasn't about action.  It wasn't about futuresque, or past worlds.  It wasn't about huge fight scenes, it wasn't about sex.  It wasn't about sticking it to the man, or fighting for what you believed in, no matter the cost.  It wasn't about any individual character, or person.  It wasn't even about the choices you make, and how the choices connect us all.  I began to realize that it was about one singular thing, and the triumph of the ending scenes completely convinced me of this.  Because at the bottom of it all, the movie Cloud Atlas was about one very important thing.

It was a love story.


"And thats the true true."

The list

So, it's been a year since I started this blog, hoping for some online confidence boosting, and in general, looking for an outlet for my teenage angst.  Just kidding, I don't have any angst.  Maybe a better explanation is, I was in the mood to write and the whole secret diary thing just seemed wayyy too kitschy, so since we live in the age of technology and all, yadda yadda, I started an online journal.  So everyone can just deal with it.


Okay anyways, heres a laundry list of some of the most important things I've learned in the past year.  If it doesn't make sense to you, it makes sense to me, and it's my blog, so I don't really care.

How to survive being alive (i know that rhymed):
-antibiotics, antibiotics, and lastly, antibiotics.
-when a death occurs, hugs and ice cream are the route to go
-if the above does not give desired relief, girls night is always a suitable alternative
-spotify is the best device ever created, besides netflix
-Don't be sad, be happy.  If that doesn't work, see cure for sadness about death.
-british youtubers
-make lists of the things you love often
-eat healthily
-go for runs often
-install fans in your room during the summer, and sleep with little clothing on
-don't care what other people think, it will ruin you
-writing helps cure aggression slash teenage angst
-when fighting with your best friend, stop, and fix it as fast as humanly possible
-enjoy the time you have living
-enact the lion king with your cat at least twice
-dress previously mentioned cat up in sunglasses, and post it on instagram for posterity
-cherish the people you love
-use heavy amounts of sunscreen, no matter what
-hug your family
-hug your friends
-play x-box with your brother
-join the f'real trend
-enjoy life as much as possible
-eat unhealthily (I know, contradicting views, practice both methods of eating)
-live vicariously
-smile.


and that's about it.  I hope you enjoy reading my very early (and even recent) posts, and have laughed about how bad they are.  I know I thoroughly enjoyed them.  It's been a long year.  I'm really glad I made it through, and heres to another long series of years.

*clinks glass which holds non-alcoholic beverage because author is only sixteen.

It's All I Can Do

Throughout the course of this blog/ my life ( I know I'm being very general and vague, bear with me.  or, you know, don't), I've developed a lot of coping skills to deal with life.  Because, to be honest, life is pretty overwhelming, whether or not I'm actually busy.

There are the constant surprises, the ups and downs, and underneath it all, an engine propels us all through life, and we are helpless to stop it, all we can do is float along the rails.  This life is forever changing.  This life is forever amazing.  And all we can do is offer our thanks and continue to look at the sky, and try to grasp the fleetingness of life.

And for most of those times, it's hard to cope with the experiences life has handed us, whether sad or fantastical.  At least I find it extremely difficult.

So I sing, I dance.  I write, I listen to music.  I study the mountains, stand in  cornfields and look at the blue sky. I laugh, I cry, I swim and surf and ski.  I run in the place I live, the place I love.  I take pictures.  I laugh with my brother, I scrub my sister clean of the dust life leaves on her.  I try to understand, while at the same time know that I understand nothing.  I live.

It's all I can do.

Window Smudges and Unceremonious Bucket Kickings

So, my phone died today. Like its a complete goner.  (Sorry Meredith, Lucy, Amelia, and the others I was texting, I'm not ignoring you.  Or am I? No, i'm not.)  And life is so hard because i have to go buy another one.  Yeesh.

Anyways, if I haven't told you before, this year was the longest one i've ever had the misfortune of being a part of.  But, it was also one of the most contemplative.  And it made me realize how many things in life I'm afraid of.  It may not seem like it, at least not now in my summer prime state where I am completely comfortable hanging out with all guys, all day (yes that was today and I was pretty proud don't hate).  But I'm scared of like, every emotional thing that could hurt me.  I feel like my phone does, vulnerable, susceptible to cracks and drained of it's power source.  Life is like a windshield.  In the beginning, it's clear and new and everything almost seems brighter.  People take care not to smudge the new windshield, for fear of hurting it.  But, as it goes further and further in it's journey, the people and places smudge it, leave lasting memories that make the windshield as battered and weathered as it becomes.  And although the battering itself might suck, the product that is created is better than it once was.

But when I'm feeling more like a cracked windshield, rather than a battered one, I have to make a list.  Of the people, places, and things that I love, of the things that are good in the world, and then I take a deep breath, read the list, and go for a nice and long run with my headphones turned up to full volume, and the anthemic songs of The Vaccines playing in my ears.  This happens more frequently than I'd like to admit.

Because I have to remind myself that I'm not a breakable piece of glass, and that I'm on this journey for the long haul, because I've made a promise to myself to not let it ever get as bad as it did that one year, or the last few years.  Because I'm not a crack, I'm not dis-valued.  I'm me and I'm here and I'm alive and I'm okay.  And I'm going to be okay.  I am going to be okay.

And one day, I'll look at the smudges and hope they stay forever.


"And all the paths we have to take our winding, and all the lights that lead us there are blinding."

"Well I'll give you all my love."


Things that are Good in life today:
The weather
my job
babysitting
writing
family (plus the new addition)
Friends
sunshine
youtube playlist
british/australian youtubers
VT
Home
BFLSLF (don't ask)
coffee
Kale smoothies
carrots
peanut butter
music
ME

Attached

Nothing in life is ever easy.  If it is easy, be skeptical.  Those papers aren't going to write themselves, you need to do your taxes, and your children are starting to smell.  That sounded funnier in my mind.

Anyways, in the last few days I've been taking an optional summer english class, which is almost over, but we've been reading a really good book about Vietnam, called "The Things They Carried."  I really like this book because it's a horrific war story, but it isn't just about war.  It's about love and necessity, it's about hardships and tough decisions, "it's about sisters who never write back, and people who never listen."

So all these men had to go to Vietnam, a lot of them died, and a lot of them still have lasting psychological problems.  Some people hold to the belief that if you are hurt or depressed or unhappy or whatever, you just need to suck it up and get over it.  I am not one of those people.    I guess you could say I'm one who lets people take their time to heal, even if it is at my personal expense.  What is the technical term for that?  Oh, right, a softie, a wimp.  But I'm not, just in some emotional matter I am.  Like when the girl died in Chile, and I couldn't stop crying, and my brother didn't understand why, my roommates didn't understand why, most of my friends didn't understand why.  I began to think I was wrong, until I looked around and saw other tear streaked faces, blurry red eyes, waiting in the crowd, hiding from those who didn't understand.  And I called my mom, and she told me it was okay.  And it wasn't okay, but I felt better.  You know those times you start off crying about one thing, and then go into everything that is wrong with the world?  I started out with a dead girl, progressed to Iraq, and ended with gas prices.  So that was a rough trip.

But something I realized has really helped me through the year.  I shouldn't be ashamed of the fact that I was crying over a dead girl who lived one floor up, one room over, and I had never met.  It's not something to be ashamed of, and I still am not.  Because the fact that I was crying meant it meant something to me, that I felt scared, and sorry for this girl, younger than I was, who I'd never met.  People who were fine, it didn't affect them the same way it affected me.  Because at first, I was fine.  I don't even think it meant anything to me, maybe I thought it was a joke?  And then when I did find out it was, indeed, very real, I told everyone, and it wasn't until about an hour later when it was just Christine and I alone in the room that I started bawling, and I couldn't stop.  Because I felt for the dead girl, and everyone she had formed attachments with.

In April, something happened at my school.  Something really bad, and something that still keeps me up extremely late at night, something that people would rather that it be swept under the rug, something my advisor tried to make me feel bad for being so upset over.  And it didn't even happen to me, but it happened to one of my best friends.  And it was awful.  Every second of it was awful.  When I found out what had happened, I skipped training to be with my friend, because that was more important than anything, how she felt.

But then when i found out the whole story, I was hysterical.  I mean, I couldn't talk because I was hyperventilating so badly.  It was bad, it was really bad.  I went home, at nine o'clock in the morning, with almost an entire school day ahead of me.  Told the one teacher I was going to miss, called my mom, and just left.  No, I didn't call my mom, I had a friend call my mom because I was hyperventilating.  My friend stayed at my house that week, because she couldn't bear to be at school anymore.  A lot of my friends went home that week, because they couldn't deal.  Well, not a lot, more like all the 96's I'm friends with.  But it was bad, it was really bad.  It was part of the reason my parents made me see a therapist.

But what I realized through all of this was that it is okay to be sad, to be really, really sad.  Sometimes at least it's okay.  Because sometimes being sad is what helps you through things, it is what makes you process and reflect and get through it.  Sad isn't a bad thing.  At least sometimes.

And another thing sad does.  It makes you realize who, and what, you can't give up.

"It's about sisters who never write back, and people who never listen."

'Now I'm dealing with the hell I put you through.
If I had my way I would be right there next to you.
There are things in life I cannot change.
I hope you know I care."

I am Gonna Make it Through This Year

So it's been  really long year.  Like, probably the longest one yet.  And don't tell me that's improbable because I know it is, but I'm tired and sick of being told what is and isn't right.  So if I want this year to be the longest one yet, that's how it's gonna be and everyone is just going to shut up about it and move on with their lives, got it?

Sorry.  It's been a long year.  Have I said that yet?  This year felt like an unending stretch of weeks, and everyone said, "oh this week has been long, but it will be better next week."  But it never got better and the weeks only got longer.  But finally, school ended, there were finals, then prom, and then I was free to hang out with whoever I wanted, do whatever I wanted, and be whoever I wanted.  But the thing that kind of sucks is that everyone is either gone out in Mammoth, still in school, home in some other distant state, or they are friends with my brother, so that automatically means they can't hang out with me without him being there, and that the minute they do, he freaks out.

But at least it's summer.  I have some babysitting gigs, which will be nice because young children are much less complicated than adults, and I really just don't want to be around adults right now, because they are just really annoying and always have hidden intentions.  But I have to find a real summer job.  Because I like money.  And not being bored.

Actually being bored might be nice.  It feels like I'm in constant motion all year, always doing something, always with people.  It's nice to be alone.  I value alone time more and more as I get older.  That's one of the things I really don't like about ski camps, you aren't ever alone, and if you want to be alone, it's misconstrued as you think you are better, or nobody likes you.  What if I like not having to talk, or socialize sometimes?  What if I like being left alone with my thoughts and the nearest container of unhealthy food and a movie?  What is so bad about that?

Some of this has to do with current times.  It's the age of social media, of being connected at any and every second.   I'm definitely guilty of over texting and too much computer usage, but aren't most people?  It's really hard not to be, right?

But I digress.  So It was a long year filled with a lot of ups and downs, woes, moaning, complaining, crying, and tough decisions I know I'll have to make again, probably in a short period of time.  But I got through it, just like I always do.  Whether it was for worse or for better, Katy Rosen is, again, alive, after another year at high school.  Whether she is happy about this remains unknown.  Whether she will ever be really happy also remains unknown.

That sounded like a newspaper didn't it?  God, it's been a really long day.  It's been a really long year.

I just felt Deja Vu.  Wonder why?

"I am gonna make it through this year, if it kills me."

"Maybe someday
You'll be somewhere
Talking to me
As if you knew me
Saying I'll be home for next year, darling
I'll be home for next year"

I'm either gonna go watch dailygrace, Emmablackery, or Roseellendix.  That is how unhappy I am.

Damages

“I guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons.”  That’s a line from The Perks of Being a Wallflower, for all of you wondering.  This line probably holds the most truth for me, because recently, or maybe in the last like five years I’ve been on a really long, never-ending rollercoaster of change.  And I’m sure it’s one rollercoaster that a lot of teenagers, and even adults are familiar with. 

But anyways, in the last five years life has switched from just plain sucking, to being okay, to sucking again, to being really good, then to sucking, then to being okay (for real, there have been a lot more switch-ups then that, but I felt I was being too repetitive).   And recently, talking to my therapist, we were discussing how, in the Perks of Being a Wallflower, everyone was damaged.  Like, everyone in that book was so screwed up it was unreal.  Except for maybe the teacher.  And then, I said how lately, I’d been feeling a lot like that bundle of bananas that got all brown and nobody wants.  In short- I’d been feeling like damaged goods.  And my therapist said, “Well, that’s perfectly natural.  Katy, in some ways, everybody is damaged.  It’s doesn’t matter the degree, but, not a person from this world makes it out without a few scars.”  

And the more I thought about it, the more I realized she was right.  There are so many ways to screw up a kid, or even a person.  Like, in the book, Charlie is really messed up because his aunt molested him.  Patrick is messed up because he can’t get over Brad.  Brad is messed up because he can’t accept himself.  Charlie’s sister is messed up because she lets her boyfriend hit her.  Charlie’s brother is messed because he cheats on his girlfriend.  And even Sam, the one who seems like she is the only one who knows anything in this entire book, is messed up, because “We only accept the love we think we deserve.”  And Sam doesn’t really think she deserves much. 

And everyone in real life is damaged too.  Like, my friend lets her dad bully her because she is afraid of him.  Some family I know really only pays attention to one of their children.  Even my best friend has a hard time realizing that she is more than worthy of love. 

So, compared to the world, I realize I don’t have it so bad.  I was bullied in eighth grade, but that’s over now.  I’m not exactly grateful for it, but I wonder what I’d be like without it.  But it’s what made me start realizing who I want to be, and what I want out of life. 

As I’ve said before, I want to be a good person.  I want to be a writer, and I want to be loved.  I want to get so good at ski racing, that I’ll show the headmaster of  my school, and make him sorry for everything offhand remark he’s ever made.  I want to inspire people to do good things.  But, most of all, I just want to be a good person.

Because I realized that there are a lot of people that are really, really damaged, and are still really good people.  And if they can be good, then I kind of owe it to the world to be good, don’t I? 

“And I hope they are happy, I really hope they are.”

“This lullaby is only a few words


A simple run of chords


Quiet here in this spare room


But you can hear it, hear it


Wherever you may go


I will let you down


But this lullaby plays on”

Taking The Plunge

It's hard to say why we love the people we do.  People say there are a million ways to lose someone, which is true, but there are also a million ways to love someone.  And the thing about it is, you can't ever really put your finger on why it's this person, out of the other six billion on the planet, that you've chosen to love.  I will never be able to fully tell you why I love my parents, why I love my siblings, my cousins, my Nana and my Aunt and Uncle.  I Couldn't tell you why I love my friends, some of my coaches.  I couldn't tell you why I love the songs I do.  I couldn't tell why why I love my childhood friend so very much, and that when she leaves, It's feels like someone is tearing a hole in my back with their nails.

I couldn't tell you why, I couldn't tell you how much I love some of these people.  The only thing I could tell you is that it feels right.  And not only that, but it makes you feel good to love someone with the entirety of your soul.  Like I said in one of my earlier posts, which is a really good example of this, I got my friend a pair of earrings for her birthday, and the fact that she was happy to get them, felt better than any present I ever get will.

When you are little, you love your parents because they are your parents and you have to love them.  But when you get older, and you start to think and realize and really and truly love them, life becomes infinitely more complicated.  You make sacrifices for the ones you love, you want to be a better person for the people you love.

But life becomes scarier when you love someone, because you risk the possibility of losing them.  And you have to make tough decisions, make scary and dangerous and downright stupid moves to keep them.  And, to quote an earlier blog post, "that's what you do when you love somebody."

My friend's dad once told us, when we were about ten, that loving someone is a lot like taking a plunge into a freezing cold, shark infested lagoon.  He went on to say that it will most likely be the scariest thing you've ever been faced with, had to do.  But he said that, without fail, he would do it every time for my friend, and her siblings, and her mom, because he loved them more than anything in our world.

Whatever we do in this life insignificant.  Some people could make the argument that taking that plunge into the lagoon is not worth it, and they'd probably be right.  And I bet one day, and I'll be standing on a rock ledge above that lagoon, looking down into those hungry sharks mouths, into the freezing cold water.

And I'll take the plunge, every time.  Because that's what you do, when you really, and truly love someone.

"You belong to me, I belong to you."

"Because I love you, and that's all I know right now, and I'm on a journey, and as long as your on that journey, I'll be okay, I'll be okay."

"Deep inside, the feeling always stays the same."

Little Princes

There's this really cool video called The Most Astounding Fact, that talks about the stars and some other stuff like the Universe.  In the video, the guy talking says that he looks up at the universe, and instead of feeling small, he feels big.  He feels this way, because the same atoms that make him up make up the cosmos, and the planets, and the whole entirety of freakin' space and time.  And It made me think a lot.  Because while it's true, what he said, I don't feel that way.  But I don't feel small either.

Well, that's not true either.  I feel like a little kid sitting at the base of a mountain looking up and thinking, I am never going to make it up this thing.  Because the reality is, I most likely won't ever go into space.  I won't ever feel as close and as connected to the world as this guy does, or as astronauts and astrophysicists and other people who have jobs starting with the word astro do.  And it makes me sad, because I live on a tiny speck in a sea of tiny specks, in like, the largest speck resort ever.  And i might never ge to go up to the roof of that resort and look out at the rest of the world while it sleeps.

Another thing this guy in the video talks about is connection, and how as humans, that is all we want to find, human connection.  It seems like an accepted fact that when you grow up, you'll get married and have children.  But, what if that isn't the kind of connection he is talking about?  What if he means connection with the world, with the stars and the planets and other spacey stuff?  What if he means connection within yourself?  It is impossible to tell what he means, just as it is almost impossible for me to think that someday I'll go to space.

In the song, "Space Oddity" by David Bowie, an astronaut goes off into space, and doesn't come back.  He's on communication, and one of the last things he says is to tell his wife he loves her.  But the very last thing he says is how planet Earth is Blue, and describes that the stars look very peculiar.  And then his circuit cuts dead, and inevitably, he goes off to die, somewhere in space.

 In his last moment of life, up in a tin can in space, He looked at the stars all around him.  And I bet he felt really close to them, and really close to the whole of space.  I bet he was really sad that his wife couldn't see it with him.  Maybe he was really sad that everyone else couldn't see it, too. Because it makes me sad that I won't ever see that.

It's every little kids dream to be an astronaut, at some point or other.  Maybe that's because, when we are so young and innocent and don't know much of the world, something inside us tell us that the stars are something that need to be seen, to be felt close to.  Even though, we know, deep down that we probably won't get to see them.

But, on the right nights, when I go outside, and look up at the night sky, I can see all the stars, like tiny beacons of hope, thousands of them, shining in the dark nights.  And I feel big.  Becaus I'm made of what they are made of.  And someday, when I die, someone else will go out and look at the stars.

And they'll feel the same way I did.


"This is Major Tom to ground control
I'm stepping through the door
And I'm floating in the most peculiar way
And the stars look very different today"

"I could tell an antique lie
full of all the things I want to hide
but that would only lead to the truth"

"Look at that speck.
That's home, that's us."

Trojans

So, In one of my previous posts, I said I was going to try and be funnier, or light-hearted or whatever.  Well, sorry.  I lied.  But, I realized that you can't force yourself to be happy, no matter how much you desperately want to.  Because there is always that little nagging feeling in the bottom of your stomach.

Lately, like in the past few months, I've been feeling damaged.  Like, everything needs to be a certain way, and when it isn't, it makes me really angry.  And I know I have a temper, I know that, but this is different.  I see red, pure red.  And then other times, I really can't handle the world.  And I just feel so insecure, and helpless about everything.  The fact that my parents are making me go to a therapist really doesn't do anything to stop the little voice in my head telling me that I'm not normal.  Well- not that I'm not normal, because there really isn't anyone who is just "normal" whatever that is- but that there is something really and truly wrong with me.

And it's not this bullshit teenager finding yourself stuff that most people go through.  It feels like more.  I know it's more.  I hope it's not more.

But I just have to make it through the year.  I have three weeks or so left of school, and if I can just make it through that, I'll be okay.  At least that's what I keep telling myself at three o'clock in the morning when I've been up for the past five hours.  Because that's been happening a lot more frequently than I would like to admit.  I used to just not tell people, to pretend that everything is fine.  But now, I just don't care.  I feel so desperate, and so tired.

I'm scared of what the therapist will say.  I'm scared of what my friends will say.  I'm scared of what my parents, my siblings will say.  I'm scared of what the mean kids at school will say.  I'm scared of growing up, of leaving home, of going to a bad college, of failing school and the SAT's.

Because the reality is, everything is not fine. In fact- it's probably the farthest from fine it's ever been.  Including that period in eighth grade where I wanted to kill myself.  This is worse.

So I hope that, sometime soon, I will feel fine.  At least I hope I will. I really hope I will.  Because I want the sleepless nights to stop more than anything.  I just want to sleep, to be able to feel again.  I just want that picture of a smiling little kid again.

That's all I want.  I want myself back.

"regardless
The walls get painted anyway
Oh you're guarding
The gates, but it all got away
Your trojan's in my head"

"Underneath this fragile frame

Lives a battle between pride and shame
But I've misplaced that sense of fright
This crown of thorns is perched atop my spine
But listen closely as I testify
Dependency has been a thief at night
Thief at night, thief at night"

The Choices We Make

Our lives are full of choices.  What to wear, what to eat, who to be friends with, who to date, what to do with our lives, whether or not to write that next blog post, what to hashtag on twitter, and so forth.  I bet a lot of people wonder whether or not their choices matter.  And while I don't really know for certain, I think they do.

What you do in this life matters.  Because, in the whole scheme of the world, it actually doesn't matter what you do, and for all anyone cares, you could die alone with no friends.  But the people that choose to be good in spite of the fact that, in  a few years, their actions will become obsolete, those, in my mind, are the good people.

My favorite movie quote of all time (it's from Charlie Bartlett) goes like this:
"Charlie, there are more important things in the world than popularity."
"Look, everyone keeps saying that, but the reality is, I'm seventeen, and popularity is pretty damn important to me."
"Charlie, there are more important things."
"Like What!" (shouted)
"Like what you do with that popularity.  Look, I've been around long enough to know that what you do in this life matters."

At my school, a lot of choices have been made, quite recently.  And the choices made by one individual, are not those I would ever make, or can even begin to understand.  Now, I probably don't have the right to weigh in on the topic, being that I'm not really good friends with any of the parties involved in the situation, but I feel like, the whole thing just sucks.  For everyone involved.  And my heart goes out to the person affected by this.  But I don't really know what to do about it, so I'm writing it on the blog.

There is also another important thing we choose in life- what we choose to see.  Because some people choose the glass half-empty, and others choose the glass half-full.  Others choose the glass on mars, and others choose to see real life, what people really feel.  Because a profile picture isn't an accurate representation of what is going on in a person's life.  Contrary to popular opinion.

This week was a bit of a meltdown week for many parties, myself included (sorry Christine if I freaked you out, it wasn't intentional).  There have been shouting fights, yelling, nastiness, and all-out sobbing over locking yourself out of your car and having to get to practice, like RIGHT NOW, or being afraid that no one will ever love you, and screaming over how much homework you have, and how life is unfair.  So, to say it's been a long week, is a bit of an understatement.

Because the reality is, it's been a long year.  I've lost people who were important to me, people who I thought were my true friends.  I've gained a lot of friends too, but hurting kind of sucks more...

Anyways, the point I'm trying to make is that as a resident of planet Earth, I have to make a lot of choices about, well, everything.  And to choose to see a person in pain, and to help them, is something I consciously do.  Or I like to try to do.   Even if I really hate that person, and really don't want to help them, I've been there.  I've been in the position where you can't do anything but cry because it hurts so much, and you know the hurting isn't going to stop anytime soon.  We've all been there.  And we all know how comforting another person's presence can be.  So just to be there is enough.

I've realized recently that I've done some pretty bad things in my life.  Not like, a drugs and alcohol fueled sex rampage, but I haven't always been the person I am.  And I realize that I don't want to be a good person, and do the right things just to get into heaven, or to be praised for being a good person.

I want to do the right thing because it's the right thing to do.  That's the only way to explain it.


"Like the dead sea, you told me I was like the dead sea, you'll never sink when you are with me."

"If it's a friend you need, let it be me, let it be me."

Hearbeat

I can't fall asleep, because my thoughts scream.  I can't be awake, because the world scares me. I Can't listen to music, because it all just makes me so sad.  Why does life have to be so sad? Why is it all so sad?

It feels like there isn't any place that's safe anymore.  Because of all the death in the last year, in the most recent times.  There have been school shootings, first graders killed, moviegoers killed, spectators killed, college kids and guards killed.  And it's different than death.  It's not the same.  Because people have killed a lot this year.  It feels like everywhere there is a masked man waiting with a gun, with a bomb.

I have this one dream that I'm walking down the bottom of the road where I used to live in Boston.  I'm ten, going to the grocery store for my mother.  I turn the corner, and A man is standing there.  He's dressed in all black, hood pulled partially over his face, wearing black aviators.  And then there's a sharp noise, and I feel a sharp pain in my stomach, and I fall, as he runs by me.  There is red, oh so much red it surrounds me.  And a woman is screaming in the background.  And then I look up at the blue sky, and finally, I wake up.

And I feel like, for a lot of people, that's been the year. Or the last two years.  Or even the last ten years.  Because a lot of people have been killed, have died.  And I know death is a part of life, but not like this. Not in this way.

And Nobody can tell me that there are safe places in the world, because it's not true. It's just not.

Because no place is safe anymore.


"I wanted you to know, whenever you are around my heartbeat, my heartbeat.
I wanted you to know whenever you are around, I can't speak, I can't speak."


"Am I still alive, or has my life gone by? I've got to die, I've got to die.
I've got to die."

Another Year Older, Another Year Wiser

Last week was my birthday.  In the span of two days, I got a year older, cut my hair and removed those things on my teeth that are called braces, but are really just a clever disguise for little metal things of torture and death (the death was for dramatic emphasis).  And then I looked in the mirror and was just like, woahhh too much transformation for me to handle, I'm going to bed, see you in another year.

I'm a year older, but I don't really feel that much different.  Maybe I should be?  Maybe I should talk to my therapist.  Oh, yeah forgot to tell y'all, I now have a therapist.  My parents are insane.  Like off the deep end into the 130 foot pool called Nemo 33 in Europe.  And yes, that is real.

I'm feeling a tad bit overwhelmed with life today.

Favorite depressing status I've seen on facebook that describes my life and makes me cry with laughter:
"Got up today, Wish I hadn't."

Well that was my attempt at a post. Back to hibernation.



Also, another really sad thing about my life: I just wrote this entire post reading it in a british accent in my mind, and I even got the vowel enunciation right.  I blame Rose Dix.


"Rose, you can't say that on youtube."

Again, british accent.

Laughter is the Best Kind of Music

So, right now I have about oh, five posts that I'm in the process of writing.  I woke up this morning, (I'm on break from from school) and realized I had absolutely nothing planned for the day and decided that I was going to finish ALL of the posts, and then I would be soooo happy!

Then I went and looked at all of these posts, and was just like, why am I such a depressing little monkey?  Because If you've ever listened to me in real life, I do not talk like that.  So after thoroughly going through all my posts which I actually thought were kind of witty, I realized that they all just depressed me.

I've spent most of this break with my friends, and I went to new york for a few days to see my cousins, which was kind of like hanging out with friends, but like closer you know? And I realized that I don't really want to go away for break (which we can't because my little sister doesn't have a break from school) because I've had a pretty good time, even though I'm stuck in crappy Vermont.

So, I'm going to be more thankful for my friends, and my family.  I'm not going to be as depressive, and I'm going to be way more funny on this blog. So deal.

Now I'm going to watch Rose and Rosie videos because I ship them so hard. Plus they are hilarious.  And I love them.

Reasons I love Rose and Rosie:
-they are the only youtubers I watch that love cats almost as much as I do
-Rose's video titles are the best
-they have shock confessions
-Rose can be spontaneously stupid JUST LIKE ME
-challenge le Dix
-they aren't street walkers
-Rosie seems to drink as much tea as I do
-obsessed with chapstick
-Rose looks like keira knightley
-their accents.. I can't even...
-Rose f*cks up punch lines, exactly like me
-they come from a land down under
-Rose thinks baguette is an acceptable answer when asked if she speaks french
- they are the lesbian version of my two friends, Meredith and Maud, and I when we are together
-I just love them

Getting back on the Horse

When I learned how to ride a bike (to be honest, it took me a while, because i loved how pretty my tricycle was), my dad, in his infinite wisdom, told me that I was never allowed to let the bike control me, I was the superior being riding the bike, and it was therefore up to me to control it, and that is always how I should think of it.  This attitude stuck with me throughout elementary school, and I wasn't really one of those kids who was going to keep quiet to my fellow peers when they did something that I didn't like (adults were a different story).

But then, middle school happened all at once, and I kind of lost myself, as people tend to do.  I didn't belong, and I knew it, and I felt like everyone else was mocking me for it.  This continued throughout, oh, maybe eighth or ninth grade, at which point I took a good look in the mirror and told myself, "This is ridiculous, go find some friends."  So I did, and for the first time in a what seemed like forever, I found myself.  But then, tenth grade rolled around, and with it, a whole new host of insecurities and un-sureness.  At times during the year, life has been pretty good, largely due to the fact that my attitude towards, well, everyone, has improved a lot.  Although, I'm not afraid to admit that, yes, I am a harsh person, who doesn't take well to not being listened to, and people she doesn't like.  Anyways, i again felt like I'd found myself.  And then the end of racing season rolled around, and all the kids who were good made it to the next level of racing, yaddah yaddah.  Never having ever been one of those kids, I felt like I wasn't really missing out on experiences, because they weren't experiences I've ever had.  But I found myself slowly sinking into the pit of despair, and it wasn't until last week that I pulled myself out by, again, looking in the mirror and saying, "this is just ridiculous. Stop wallowing about and go have fun like a normal fifteen/sixteen year old. God."

Some of this has to do with the fact that it is the end of winter.  As far as my opinion goes, I'm beyond done with slalom and super-g, and gs is just closing in on the done mark.  I want spring skiing, for maybe a week (meaning no training thank you very much Dave), and then I want the snow to go away, the mud to go away, the slush to go away.  I want sun-baked dirt roads, and rivers that are infinitely cooler than the air that surrounds them.

Not having any direct connections to mother nature makes this virtually impossible, but hey, can't a girl dream?  Anyways, it's time for me to stop being such a depressing little girl, and accept that another year has gone by, and that what I'm feeling is most likely just a product of nostalgia, and not real remorse.

So, I will be pulling myself up by my bootstraps, putting on my race blinders (points to whoever remembers who and when this saying happened), and any other clever metaphors you can think of.  In short- I'm going to start enjoying life again, and stop trudging across campus like the sullen bear I am.

Because life is much more fun in technicolor.

"The sun's in the sky, its warming up your bare legs
You can't deny your looking for the sunset"



"rock it to the break of day, don't stop rocking now, no way"