Roots

I'm defined not by what I am, but by what I'm not. What I'm not is getting to be a much shorter list. One small step. A few old songs. It's a little less like war paint now, even though I'm still picking up that shield and sword. All things to everyone. What am I gonna be? I'm wound up too tight. I need to get rid of my guilt complex. Complexes. My subscriptions. The dirty old river keeps rolling into the nightmares. Water under the bridge. No fear, no doubt. Last call, you can't stay here. Oh what can it mean? Now you know how happy I can be. What's next? When you can't walk anymore, you keep on crawling. You keep moving because there's nothing else to do. My contradictions are my trouble. That's how you get to be your own enemy. With a self like this. I can't fight it. Face the music. That's what I'm doing, facing the music.
Dancing in the moonlight.

Daydream Believer

As The Leaves Began To Change

I woke up a few days ago, and it was still dark. The last time I had to wake up that early, it was daylight by the time I'd ditched my pj's. No longer so. It's not summer anymore, kids. I love fall, always have. Even when it meant the end of summer freedom and the beginning of seemingly endless schoolwork. I just love it, the smell of it, the weather (I hardly ever get tired of telling people, during the dog days of summer, that I'm only sweating like a pig because my genetic makeup isn't built to withstand temperatures of more that about 20 degrees) but most of all, the feeling of opportunity and excitement. Naturally, spring symbolizes rebirth, the beginning of life. That's not the case for me. For me, all that stuff goes with fall.

Another thing that goes with fall is hibernation. Making a nest in which to hide out over the winter. Nesting, that's something I've been wanting to do a whole lot lately. I want to paint, pick out furniture and paintings, decorate. A big part of it is that I've never really had my own space. Sure, when I was thirteen my parents let me pick the colour for the walls in the room I was sleeping in, but it's not quite the same. Even when I moved out, it was temporary, again, not really my space, and then back into the castle, into the extra room that for the rest of the year is a glorified closet. I want my own place, yet another trapping of adulthood I've always wanted but right now am feeling a mammoth push towards.

My baby sister starts high school tomorrow. I wish I could talk to her, tell her that her whole life won't suck as bad as high school will, that it does eventually get better, that it's not as serious as it seems. But even if she'd listen to me, I have a hunch these are lessons she'll have to learn on her own the same way I did.

Looking at it objectively, it's not as bad as some have led me to believe, and not as good as others have. I've always hated the sound of my voice recorded, but like so much else, I'm going to have to learn to live with it, learn to be proud of it. It's a start. I wish the Siren would help me.

Keep Dreaming
Daydream Believer

25 and Sunny

In response to Loud, I hadn't really thought about what kind of motorcycle... preferably one in a relatively un-motorcycle-like colour... like hot pink or something like that. Or maybe a red one... but aside from that, one that runs would be a good start, I think.

I call her Siren for different reasons. Her song tempted me, drew me out of myself and towards her only to dash those initial thoughts on the sharp rocks surrounding her. Reminding me why I was never cut out to be a sailor. As much as the song haunted me, it told me a lot about her as well, maybe a little more than she wanted me to know. She made me sing, when I was afraid, and for that I owe her a lot. Although I doubt she knows it. I hated her for a time, a hate fueled by jealousy, loneliness, and misunderstanding. And then I sailed away on the ripples of those small words that meant so much, and here I am, standing upright and unmystified, like a four-year-old marking her height on the door frame.

I'm sure Freud would have something to say about the funny dreams. I blame it on change of diet, actually getting as much sleep as I should, and the number of detective shows I'm watching. Maybe not so much that last one, but you get the idea.

Anyways, it's sunny and warm outside, so I'm going to rip myself off the computer chair and go outside. If anybody feels like joining me, feel free. It's too pretty a day to be by yourself.

Daydream Believer