My parents are cereal killers

I usually have a bowl of cereal every morning for breakfast. Well not THIS morning. THIS morning my parents decided to throw out all the cereal. Why did they decide to do that? Because there was a spaghetti sauce leak in the pantry and some dripped on the box. Doesn't that seem just a little ridiculous? I mean, there was only like a couple drops on the box, and the cereal is in a plastic bag anyway, so whyyyy would they throw it out?!? So I had to have a sandwich for breakfast because we had no cereal BUT I always have a sandwich for lunch and I can't have two sandwiches in one day so my entire eating schedule EXPLODED! I had to eat a microwave pizza for breakfast!

Thank goodness I went to a barbecue today and lunch was saved. However, I failed miserably at Scene It. It was still a funderful time though. Thank you, barbecue-giver, for keeping my entire universe from unraveling at the hands of a breakfast microwave pizza. However, I was forced to eat cheese and crackers for dinner...

Another entry on some random ramblings? What is this blog coming to...

SoC: Shattered Seashells

Shattered seashells so fluid and flowing groaning and growing hardly shards but scattered cards slaves washed away by waves and graves so empty they teem so silent they’re screaming and shouting their outing to nowhere to go where and show where their flow ends to bend and twist and mold the gist of gold to gain in pain to shine glowingly and knowingly with wisdom of all time and trial and tribulation the tv station of static staring straight through the melty-brained child stars and felt-handed compact cars caught catching crowns in crowds of clouds that fade softly into the mist you quietly wade in.

Shattered seashells shaping hearts that beat at their own slow pace tick slowly off the clock’s face fall softly in the palm of your hand folding grains of sand to make music and light in the stomach of night to digest lest they rest eternally in the eyes of the sky god and his flowing fields made of salty silk and orange milk that is safe enough to drink and sink down to the shine and brine at the base of the stand of the globe and the silver hem of the robe that no one can wear lest they tear away from the world.

Shattered seashells and scattered bells are the battered hells of which Simon tells each time he speaks in his commanding tone you must retaliate or be sucked into his dark romantic dance and games of chance to waltz in the fiery flags of white-tailed stags repeating forever their final fatal endeavor to mix and match and spark a revolutionary love a wingless dove senselessly beaten slashed crushed and mashed to be trashed happily ever after.

Shattered seashells finally free sadly drifting aimlessly so empty and whole yet not quite in-between for you and I to find together with our hands melting and our fingers still crossed after all these eternities spent soaking in the seashells.

Deaf to all but the song (the useless picnic story)

So today, in honor of school ending on Wednesday, the IB teachers held a big congratulatory picnic. There were like 100 IB kids there, most of which I tend not to get along with. And considering I do poorly in large crowds anyway, it was a recipe for disaster when I decided to go. Mainly I decided to go because there was nothing else to do, and I didn't want a repeat of yesterday's disaster: eating only 2 blocks of cheese and watching SciFi channel all day. There was a Tru Calling marathon!

Anyway, I basically spent 3 hours sitting on the grass and not speaking to anyone. Usual picnic for me. Except I had this song stuck in my head the whole time, and it just kept playing over and over and driving me slowly insane. I won't share what song it is, since doing that is useless to the story. Anyway, now I have to babysit a dog for the weekend, and my mom thinks I'm going to jump out of a window in misery. Oh, I think I skipped some parts. Oh well, those parts aren't important to the story either. Actually the story isn't important at all anyway. Let's change the subject...or at least expound on a previously stated theme.

So, I get songs stuck in my head a lot. Sometimes it gets so bad that I'm driven mildly insane by the music playing in my head. However, its usually really entertaining, and the music fits the situation I'm in. For example, I'll get town music from Earthbound playing in my head while I walk home from school, and I'm entertained the whole way back. Yeah, usually when I get a song in my head it keeps me from getting ridiculously bored (with my meaningless existence). So, I guess having a permanent iPod in my head is a blessing more than a curse.

...I totally lost track of what the topic was here. Oh well.

THE END!

Confusion...

WARNING: Emotional content. Viewer discretion is advised.

So, I haven't posted in a while. Everything's just really confusing now. My last day of high school was today...I just wish I could join in with everyone else and their simple gladness that they're moving on. But something is holding me back, like it always does.

Its not that I'm glad to be out of the hellhole called Schenectady High, its just difficult to leave. I never had many friends there, but it was just...familiar. I could go there knowing I'd see certain people at certain times, knowing what teachers I could talk to about what subjects, just feeling comfortable. But its over. The whole routine, after getting to know my classmates for 4 years, and suddenly just having it all drop away from beneath me, its just hard.

I can't find the right words to express what I'm feeling, and its killing me. If I'm supposed to be this great writer, then why can't I find the words that matter? I mean, I have all these emotions that I could write about, but its like I can only write them when I'm not feeling anything. Someone I know from school wrote a note on Facebook (haha, this sounds so unprofessional) where he talked about how he always has this mask on so that nobody can hurt him. I kind of feel that's what I do...I always seem to get hurt when I try to open up, so I just sucked back into myself, never speaking or trying to make friends. I don't know if it was fear, or what else it could be. Now, I just don't seem to know how to open up anymore, even when I write.

Everyone always talks about how beautiful my poetry is, and how deep the emotions I expressed are...but no matter how much I get complicated, I always hate what I wrote, and even that I do write. I never want people to see that side of me, especially friends. And its weird, since what I write is completely fabricated. I guess its a double edged blade...I'm too scared to show what I really feel because I'll just get hurt again, but I still feel the need to write anyway. So I fabricate emotions in poetry, and then I hate it because it isn't real.

It feels like I built up this whole wall to keep everyone out, and once it solidified I wanted to bring people back in, but I just couldn't. Now I feel, well, empty all the time. Sometimes I even feel hated. But, I brought it on myself. I think the biggest enemy I have is myself. I'm always tearing myself down. Its almost like because its something I was practically raised with, I do it to myself for a twisted feeling of comfort. Maybe even a feeling of home. But what kind of home is that? Home should be safe...how can my pain bring a sense of home?

Sorry for the rambling...I don't know, I'm just really confused right now. Maybe when I'm not insanely emotional for no apparent reason, I can explain things better. Or maybe at that point I'll just be fabricating it all again.

*Prime candidate for therapy here*