A Nightingale In A Golden Cage

"It's a shame there's no one to blame/For all the pain that life brings."

It is.

This is not directed to anyone in particular, but it's just my personal view. Don't be offended if you disagree. I tend to be very agreeable when others express their personal opinions. If I disagree with you, I'll likely say, "I see where you're coming from - I really do. I understand how you see that such and such should be this way, however, my belief is a, b, and c."

Now that that's been said, I digress:

College is a time for change. College is a time for finding yourself. College is the place where we go to live our lives for the first time without parental guidance. At least, it is for many of us. Some change is expected from this, obviously, because you can't just go out and live on your own without learning a few new things about yourself that you didn't know previously.

Now, understandably, this might be a bit difficult to understand for those who stay at home for college. Or even for those who don't go to college at all. I don't know the percentage off the top of my head, but there is a chunk of high school graduates who never go to college.

For me, college was/is weird for a couple reasons.

1) The classes are HUGE, which means two things:
   a) You don't get to know your professor.
   b) You hardly talk to anyone, which makes it sooo much harder to meet new people.
2) My old friends aren't around everyday, which makes keeping up the relationships ten times harder. Ok, maybe not ten times harder. Maybe seven. But it's definitely more difficult.
3) It's a completely different atmosphere to adjust to. You automatically get thrust into this environment of adulthood that you never got in high school. In high school, the administration continually bombarded you with the idea that you were still a minor and they literally controlled your fate. And now that that bull is over and done with (and now that we're in control of our own lives for the most part) we're considered adults.

But for those who stay behind, I wonder perhaps if there is something in psychology to suggest why they seem to be stuck in the high school mentality. Once you walk that line, high school is OVER. No more high school drama. Now it's just melodrama and real life crap that happens to everyone else. Think your life totally sucks? Go check fmylife.com - if you can't find a similar situation on there, then yes, maybe your life does suck more than usual. If not, then, hey, it seems like everyone else has been wearing your shoes while you weren't looking. Wow. Tangent. Sorry. My point is that college is a time where people (typically) make most of their bad decisions because they're on their own for the first time. People change in college. It happens. It's the stepping stone to pure adulthood, with bills, and jobs, and all that jazz. College is stereotypically a time where people explore and expand and curse and make poorer decisions than they usually did in high school. College is where the parents and inhibitions disappear for many students. College is where many can let loose and discover who they really are. College is typically a time where people have fun and learn things about the world. Ask any parent and they'll have stories up the wazoo.

I had a goal in mind: get to my own personal diatribe that I spouted off about an hour ago at someone who needed to hear it, in my own oh-so-professional opinion.

Hypothetical situation: Person A is friends with Persons B and C. Persons B and C go their separate ways after graduation, off to college like many people. Person A, however, opts to stay home. Now, when Persons B and C have personal problems, they turn to Person A because they know that, in the past, Person A has always been the kind of person to talk to about such crappy life happenings. However, when Person A attempts to share such crappy life happenings with Persons B and C, B and C do not wish to speak about said crappy life happenings with Person A. Now, normally, I would suggest that Persons B and C were tards, however, that would be jumping the gun. Let us analyze why Persons B and C do not wish to return the favor.

Person B is going through a lot of shit. Person B doesn't like thinking about depressing aspects of life and would rather not think about anything that makes them feel uncomfortable. Person B has mentioned before in the friendship that they do not feel comfortable knowing/talking about certain crappy situations that are in Person A's life.

Person C is emotionally immature and unable to deal with certain aspects relating to the more depressing parts of crappy situations. I would guess that Person C is too emotionally young to know what to do in a situation that Person A presents, and thus, feels uncomfortable. Person C has similarly expressed a desire to not discuss certain crappy situations with Person A.

I suspect both Persons B and C have an innate fear of death, as well, which would make both persons feel even more uncomfortable.

Now, part of being someone's friend means that one must accept all aspects of them. This is not a one-sided idea, however. It is required that both individuals accept one another. One might argue that Persons B and C not wishing to discuss crappy life situations with Person A is a failure of this idea. However, Person A's lack of acceptance for the desires of Perons B and C is also a failure of this idea. In such a case, we are left with a circle of pointing fingers. Thus, someone must take a stand and grow a pair, for lack of a better term.

What I mean to say is that while both parties may be in the wrong, someone must make the decision to stand in the morally sound department and raise themselves above such trivialties. Acceptance is the key. I will pretend that I am Person A (which I'm not, but nevertheless...). As Person A, I would brush off the fact that Persons B and C felt uncomfortable. I have many friends with which I may converse about crappy life situations, therefore, the fact that Persons B and C will not converse with me isn't a big deal because there's always someone else I can talk to. See? Problem solved. No need to throw the friendships away over spilled milk.

In fact, Person A (which is no longer me) can consider this a learning experience, assuming that Person A is the one that takes the morally higher ground. Person A has learned that Persons B and C are not the people to go to when Person A needs someone to talk to. This does not mean that Persons B and C are not good friends; they are just....emotionally unstable people that enjoy avoiding such situations that make them feel awkward or uncomfortable. Person A should respect that.

However, Persons B and C should think about growing up in the near future. Life is not just a Monopoly board that we travel in a circles around (actually, it'd be more like travelling in a square, wouldn't it?). We can't control the people around us, but we can control ourselves, and so that is what we must settle for (unfortunately). Sometimes things make us uncomfortable, but that's also part of growing up, and thus we must deal with it like adults. And here, I cannot resist adding, "And you are adults, aren't you?" Don't say otherwise. In this hypothetical situation, Persons A, B, and C are all adults. And frankly, none of them are acting like it. Perhaps it's too much to ask nowadays, for young adults (yes, they're young adults, too) to act their ages. Perhaps when people say that the voting age should be raised to 21, we should raise it. (I personally don't advocate raising the voting age at all, but some do.)

Wow....tangent. Sorry. Here, have a metaphor:

We love the people we love because we love who they are, flaws and all. And, yeah, maybe their flaws include instability or the inability to return certain kinds of affection, but with time and effort - it's not going to happen overnight - they might be able to change. But we can't just expect instant gratification with people. People are a complex computer system that we have to get used to and when the upgrade is finally ready, we can install it.
It takes two to tango, as my mother always said. It's not Person A's fault alone, nor is it the fault of Persons B and C. It's all of their faults. However, Person A hypothetically took the higher ground, and thus disregarded the wrongdoings of Persons B and C, making themselves the better person in this case and forgiving them for something they might not even be aware of. And, honestly, it would be a bit silly for Person A to throw two good friendships away over the fact that their upgrades haven't arrived in the mail quite yet.

That's just my two cents. Disagree, Agree, Complain, Rant, whatever you like.

An update is definitely in order.

First of all, it feels good to be back in my room. It's messy. And I have little to no time at all to clean it, but, hey, it's my room.

It's definitely not cold down here. Let me just say that right now. Davis? Kinda cold. San Diego? Not cold at all. A tad chilly some nights, I'll admit, but not cold. Cold doesn't exist down here, no matter how often I complain about it.

And before I go any further, let me please just say the following: I did not come home to listen to fighting. If I wanted to listen to pointless bickering and childish quarrels, I would watch Jerry Springer. As it is, I hate that show with a fiery passion. See what I'm getting at?

Alright. Now that that's over and done with....

I've been enjoying my time with friends very much. Granted, I'll admit that visiting my high school every day last week was a bit much and I won't be doing that again. BUT, I haven't laughed nearly as much in my life as I have the past three days combined (except for maybe in ENL45, but that was only because I was sitting next to an awesome person, and the professor was frakking hilarious).

Key individuals responsible for making the past three days amazing? I'll name them by their initials, just in case they have issues with being listed by name on the internet: CF, MS, GB, DA, BC, AP. I love these people. I love other people just as much, but other people weren't there for the epicness that has been the past three days. Especially GB, CF, DA, and MS. Those four in particular have been making me forget about any sadness at all. So thanks, guys. I love you all. Really.

Saw Avatar and Princess and the Frog. Avatar was frakking amazing. Words cannot convey it's beauty. Go see it for yo'self, fool. Princess and the Frog was cute. It was a Disney movie, minus the epic Disney music from the classics. Now, that's probably because Randy Newman can't compose worth a damn, but that's my personal bias and I'm stickin' to it. All his stuff just sounds generic and similar to me. And don't get me started on Toy Story and Faust. Just don't. But overall, the story behind Princess and the Frog was cute. I liked the new message Disney has: "Kids: you can wish on stars, but don't expect them heavenly bodies to do all the work for ya. You've gotta sweat if you want to make it in this world." Heh. The stock market itself is evidence enough to prove that they're right. I could go on, but Disney really said it all.

And, yeah, there are great messages in Avatar, too. But, like I said, go see it for yourself. I'm not giving anything away. Oh, except for this: go listen to "I See You" by Leona Lewis. It's pretty much the main theme to the movie. James Horner was in on that. Beautiful song. Go listen. Right now.

And now...I really need to stop, because I'm SUPER behind on X-Mas cards/gift wrapping and I'm in pain right now, so I don't really feel like sitting at my desk much longer.

Hope the fun continues for ya all.

Cheers.

Oh, and apparently it's the holiday season, so Happy Holidays?

Sitting in an airport terminal, watching people.

It reminds me of In A Station Of the Metro by Ezra Pound:

IN A STATION OF THE METRO


The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.

There aren't quite that many people here, I imagine.

But it's so much fun to watch them.

I like looking at their clothing. Some people have good fashion sense. Others........need help. Most of the guys have it easy. All they need is a pair of pants and a t-shirt. But even guys can screw up. I saw this one woman wear a black pantsuit that was far too tight in the back and highlighted the fact that she no longer has a rear. It made me sad.

There's something about a guy in a nice winter coat. It's just....a good look for guys. Makes 'em look more.....oh, I don't know...it makes them more well put-together. Yes? No? Eh? Or not.

Anywho.

It's very foggy outside. I'm wondering how we're going to fly at all in this weather. But, hey. Who knows. I'm just along for the ride, basically.

Skinny jeans look back on some people. Especially when those skinny jeans are bleached in the rear. And only the rear. It's bad. Don't wear 'em. Just don't.

I feel like a child sitting here with my computer, watching all the big grown ups as they walk past with their boarding passes. And then I remember that I'm one of them. And it's a srange thought.

The plane should be here soon.

Whiiiiich means I need to take my dramamine. Because if Christina doesn't take her dramamine, then she won't feel well ont he plane ride home. And that's bad. :(  <---see? that means bad.

It's paralyzing, this feeling of utter loneliness and this wave of sadness that just hit me. I cannot explain where it comes from. One moment, it's not there, and I'm fine. And the next moment, I am dead weight and don't have the energy to move from where I am. The word "debilitating" comes to mind.

And then the second wave hits - and my heart aches so fiercely for something I cannot have, something I have no knowledge of.  Or experience with.

I want to be held, I want to feel loved, I want to feel like someone cares. But I don't feel anything save for gravity's hatred.

Things should be different.

I should not be like this.

I should have more courage, more confidence.

Shouldn't I?

I dreamt he sent me a letter. On a piece of yellow paper in blue pen. And in it, he talked about everything that I had wanted to confess.

As I sit hre, staring at the screen and typing at the same time, I can't help but feel a bit surreal. After all, I'm staring through the television and my fingers are moving as if they all have minds on their own.

I remember when I was on the phone at the MU and I saw him out of the corner of my eye and he looked over at me. And I can never tell what he's thinking (not that I should be able to) but at that moment, I felt that there was something to it....just like when he said "you seem sad" and I lied and said "it's just the paper" (or something akin to that) he got this look on his face that made me wonder if he believed me....

But it's likely nothing. I'll never know.

My mother apparently can't wait to see me. I'm almost afraid to go back.....will anything be different? Or will it all be the same? Have things changed since I've been gone - but they'll go back once I return?

I wish I could just move on. Grow up. Fall in love. Be kissed.

AKGJALKSJFAKGJK.

That's possibly the silliest, corniest crap I've ever wanted. It's utter shite. Stupid things to want, really.

Music. I need music.

My inner compass is pulling a Jack Sparrow.
And I have no science with which I can point
it back in the right direction. So I sit, and wonder
what I am supposed to do with a compass
that doesn't point North. Or a tree sword
that will never do its job. And as I sit, the
squirrels run to and fro, up and down. They
hang from trees like the people in the Cirque and
collect like they have OCD. And I think about
Le Balcon and how high up it is and how pretty
Diana is tonight as she stares down at me with
her paleness. No she is no Cullen or Lestat, but
a model of Perfection that I will never compare to.

And while I stare at her I think that maybe some
unreal savior will come to my rescue if I move
closer to Her light. But then I find my feet and
see that I am Katherine Hamnet, and I am
alone.

          And the King's daughter cannot See
that I am up so high, for she is busy with
her own concerns. And this fasting makes
me weary so weary that I start to believe
that what she Sees is only an illusion. So
can't someone Bring Me To Life? I swear
if peace is as as rare as finding a four-leaf
clover...
            Won't you ask me again? Won't
you tell me that you see? I put my hopes
in those who are bound to fiddle while
I contemplate Le Balcon and just how
high I have come. But it's all my fault and
there's no going back no going forward
or sideways or any way. And as often as
you tell me not to I always will because
you're halfway across the planets with
your new companions and I'm over here
and there are no survivor from Gallifrey
that will come to my rescue, for they are
elsewhere, occupied with more important
things such as fiction and blondes and
saving the world from ultimate peril which
means that my fight with Genet's Balcon
must be fought on my own without any
help or guidance and the line between no
and yes has been blurred by Frost's
decision but I am unsure of whether he's
right or not and UGH I should just get
on with it already because no one's coming
and no one cares enough to ask except
one person and I threw that down the sink
like the idiots I hate in chick flicks and now
I'm still alone and it's my own damn fault.

There's no more color.

The moon was beautiful tonight, but there was no color in it.

Definitely spent a half hour on the second story balcony of Wellman, staring at the moon and imagining what it would be like to just...climb the rail....and walk off.

And then it occurred to me: no one would come after me. Sure, after awhile, my roommates might wonder where the hell I was, but if during one of my low tides I seemed really down even to strangers and random people I barely know and I went up to a balcony, I don't think any of them would suspect that I had the intention to jump off. Or that I was imagining it.

And, yeah, I can call people. But sometimes what I crave the most is just a hug. And the people I can call? They can't hug me. They're all the way in Maine, and La Jolla, and San Diego, and Santa Barbara, and Berkeley, and all other places because of this thing called college and life and moving on and I really don't like this whole 'moving on' thing because it means I have to leave the people I'm closest too behind and I'm expected to just make new friends like that and I can't just do that because that's not how I am I have to know someone for more than just a few classes when they're a peer.

UGH. And I was going to go today. I was going to do exactly what they told me to do. But it didn't work out. Because it just wasn't meant to. And Cassandra will tell me all sorts of things like "Fate isn't real, thus this and this and that" and I half believe her.

I just....I just want a hug. Or someone to sit me down and say, "You look like you need someone to talk to." Or something like that. According to Matt and Cassandra, that did happen. The last bit, that is. Somehow, I can't see how "You seem sad" translates to "You look like you need someone to talk to." But, then again, my first session with Katie proved that I'm wrong about many of my...."ideas."

I just wish that things would go as I planned. I wish I hadn't lied when he said "You seem sad." I wish I would stop lying to myself about this. I wish my brain wouldn't just step in and lie for me so often. I wish someone would grab me by the shoulders and say, "STOP. Let me help." I wish I was more assertive. I wish  there was more time. I wish we were on the quarter system. I wish so many, many things.

But there's no time. No time at all.

And tomorrow's the day Christina has to wear her mask again. For the lovely church people that would love to "help." Yeah, not happening. No way I'm letting them anywhere near my problems. We can all go to church together, but I refuse to open myself up like a museum exhibit for you all to oggle and stare at.

That's unfair. I'm sure they wouldn't be like that. They're nice people. They are. It's just....I don't want them involved in this. Because all they're going to say is that the solution to my problem is to read my Bible and pray more. And to be honest, I just don't find that advice very helpful.

Have I ever mentioned that I hate that effing mask?

All for now. Brain is shutting down.

Nothing feels normal anymore.

I don't understand why.

I'm tired, and have no energy, and I'm lackluster.

I don't even feel like going into detail.

I should know better by now.

Really, I should.

When my brain says "Hmm, maybe reading Rated-M Doctor Who fiction isn't such a bad idea," I should know better. You'd think I would.

Geez, as if those dreams weren't bad enough.

Maybe some Nightwish will....calm me down.

*Yawn*

So....apparently I passed out for about three hours? They had to come and wake me up. How did they wake me up? Put Cora on top of me and watched what she did. That's definitely a new one.

And when I finally wandered out, Dan was like, "Yeah, Cora went to college while you were out."

And I was like, "How long was I out?"

"Like 24 hours. It's not Thanksgiving anymore."

"WHAT?! Really??"

"No, you were only out for a few hours."

Geez. I'm so gullible. And now I feel like so much time has passed since I was awake. And I still haven't gotten very far on my English paper. Ugh.

Anywho, so last night I slept in the Blue Room and went to bed at around 1-ish in the morning....but woke up at 4-something in the morning feeling like I had slept for 8 hours already. It was the dreams I had, I swear.

I dreamt I was the 10th Doctor's companion. And the world was, as usual, coming to an avoidable end. And the Doctor told me to stay somewhere and was more insistent upon it than usual. In fact, I remember him saying, "Please, Christina. Promise me that you won't move from this spot." And so I promised him. And before he left, he kissed me on the forehead and told me he had something to tell me when he got back.

So I waited. And then suddenly, there was this crazy lady. And she was shouting and she had a huge, heavy mallet that she kept swinging around. Of course, I was running from her....and then the Doctor came back and shouted something and I stopped and looked up. And then his eyes got really big and he yells "No!" and then I dreamt that this crazy lady hit my in the side of the head with her mallet.

After that, it was like an out of body experience within the dream. I watched as the Doctor, angry as he was, vowed to destroy the crazy lady. And I can't remember how he did it, exactly, because I mostly dreamt that I was just laying there on the ground. And then he was back and kneeling beside me. I kept thinking he was going to say, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry" like he usually does in the show, but he didn't. Instead, he just knelt there and seemed to be speechless. So I opened my eyes in the dream, and looked at him, and he was crying. In my dream. And I felt so bad. So I said, "Doctor?"

And he seemed to snap out of it when I said that and he looked at me, and there was something in his eyes... relief, joy - so many things mixed in at the same time that it literally made me gasp. And then he said something that I can't recall and the next thing I knew, he'd scooped me up and was heading back to the Tardis.

And then he said it: "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." But he didn't stop there. "I didn't think...She wasn't supposed to....You were supposed to be safe." And I didn't say anything. But I remember my eyes were getting heavy. I was getting sleepy in a dream....which doesn't seem to make much sense to me, but apparently it happens. And all I heard was "Keep your eyes open. Don't you dare close them, Christina." But I closed them anyway because I was just. so. tired. And then I switched points of view in the dream. I became like....the silent invisible observer. And I was staring down at myself, unconscious, in the Tardis and the Doctor's using some sort of Time Lord equipment to heal me or something. I can't remember. I remember being more focused on the fact that he was quite unhinged by the fact that I was unconscious and it seemed like I wasn't going to wake soon.

I think he cursed in Gallifreyan at some point. And banged on a counter in frustration. And then he seemed to calm down a bit and just started begging. Which is, of course, rare for the Doctor.

"Please...."

And I felt bad. Because he seemed so sad and desperate.

"You're healed, you're fine! Just wake. Up!"

Or something like that. I can't remember what exactly was said, because I went back into myself and then I felt his hand in mine and I squeezed. I'm sure when he felt me squeeze his hand, he must have felt a little better. And I opened my eyes. Yeah, they were still heavy and I just wanted to sleep still, but I had to show him that he didn't have to worry or be sad.

And then he was staring down at me with such relief and care that I felt like I couldn't breathe. For a long time, no one said anything. He just stared at me and I just stared back. And then he touched my cheek for a moment and said "You're so cold." Then it was back to the staring. And then he said something that makes me warm even thinking about it right now. He looks at me, still squeezing my hand, and he says, "I love you. That's what I was going to tell you later. I love you."

And I'm still laying there of course thinking "....whoa......" And he's staring at me still and I realize that he's waiting for me to say something. And I'm like....what do you say to that? I mean, yeah, in the dream, I felt the same way, but I just didn't know how to reply.

He seemed to get that, though. Because then he kissed me (and trust me, he's really good at it) and said "I love you, understand?"

So I nod, unable to say much else and that's where I woke up. Well....certain things might have ensued before I woke up. But let's not go there... Let's just say I woke up. At 4-something in the morning. And for a long time after, I just lay there replaying that dream over and over in my head...

.....

And then I fell asleep again and had this dream:

I was back with the Doctor, and I know that this dream takes place after the first one. Except, every time I looked at him, his face would switch back and forth between David Tennant's face......and my English professor's. Which was weird. I sort of just ignored it. It's probably because they kind of resemble each other? ajiglkajlkfjas Who knows.

Anywho, so somehow Twilight (ew) of all things slipped into my dream. I decided to go cliff diving. I guess my mind has been a little preoccupied with the fact that my own mother (who's more of a feminist than I am) called me singing the praises of Twilight and New Moon. The movies. I about gagged when she told me. But that's a tangent. Anywho.

So, cliff diving. And the Doctor was standing next to me, hands in his pockets casually. But it was like he wasn't really there. It was like he was a figment of my imagination. And then there was this girl dressed goth-style. And she looked so angry with me, like she hated me. And she said "Jump off the cliff." And, in the dream, I found I couldn't not do what she said. So I jumped the cliff. And of course when I landed (because it was so very high) I was in pain and other things that I can't recall.....And then the Doctor was there performing CPR on me until I coughed and choked and caught my breath. And then he helped me change into warmer clothes (which included one of his shirts). I think we spent some time snuggling under a blanket after that....amongst other things....

Anyway. I woke wishing that I could just stay in my dreams forever. Because if only that could happen....well, obviously not the getting hit in the head with a mallet part. Or jumping off a cliff. I'm sooo afraid of heights that it's not even funny. I get panicky going down the stairs sometimes. But seriously? Having the Doctor tell me that he feels that way? Or even just getting it on with the Doctor. That would be fun.

In hindsight, writing this probably wasn't a good idea. Now I'm in one of those moods......

ANYWHO. NEW TOPIC. I had to go and wake up. Anyways, so I left my coccoon of warmth and coziness.....and had breakfast with Ellen and Cora. Took Cora to the park and she shared! There was this other little boy there named Kieran (unsure of spelling) with his two fathers. And he wanted to play with Cora's sand toys but his parents told him to give the rake back and when he did, Cora just handed it right back to him. And I was so proud of her! I got to talk to Kieran's parents a little. They thought she was mine, which both pleases and amuses me.

On the one hand, it means that I can pull off the mother thing. On the other hand, it's amusing because I'm definitely not old enough to be Cora's mom. Well, I suppose I am, but she's way too asian to be mine. I'm only a halfie. Anywho. I thought that was cool.

My mind's in a place right now. Can't write anymore for now.

Cheers.

Last night's sleep was not good at all. I woke up periodically all night. First, I couldn't fall asleep til like 1:30pm. Though, that was probably the coffee.

But then I woke at 4:26. Then again at 4:30. Then again at 5:30. And finally I decided that if I woke up again, I wouldn't go back to sleep. Of course the next time I woke, it was with my alarm.

But the dreams! Mmmm.

Dreamt that the world was ending (at least it seemed like it) and I was - of all things - shopping in a big city. I remember being in a group. My english professor was there with a very tall, very slim, dark-haired young woman. They were very clearly enamored with one another. The girl reminded me of Anna from V. Or, as some might know her, as Inara from Firefly. There was someone else with me. I remember that. But their face is blurry to my memory. We were walking down a sidewalk. The sun was either just beginning to rise or just beginning to set. I'm thinking the latter, because no one shops that early unless they're a ridiculously famous celebrity. And I'm certain that was not the case in my dream. So then we went into an antique store and of course no one else was there because - duh! - the world was ending. Slowly, but steadily it was ending. Isn't that how it is anyway?

Anywho, I just had to write this down before I forgot because today is going to be busy.

Meeting at Mrak at 2-5pm. Supposed to wear black, so I chose my Lip Service black pants from Hot Topic and the black Switchfoot shirt I bought at their free Del Mar concert. Paired it with a morbidly tie-dyed long-sleeved shirt to ensure that my left arm is covered at all times. Black Converse-styled flats with red stars. That's how I'm rockin' it today. And, of course, Nightwish's "Escapist" on repeat to get me into a rockin' mood.

On this day in history: November 24, 1859, Charles Darwin published his Origin of Species, a groundbreaking scientific work that made natural selection the popular theory. It also indirectly began the practice of Social Darwinism, which is one of the many banes of my existence. But that's another tale for another day. :)

Cheers, all.

Tip for today: Get a good song in your head and rock it all day long.

It's late.

I'm hungry.

I want to sleep.

I wish I could do both at the same time.

......

>_>

<_<

>_>

Hot Pockets sound particularly good. Possibly because Ivette had one a half hour ago and it smells like Hot Pockets.

I should be sleeping, because I have an early meeting with a prof. tomorrow morning. And I feel bad about it because I'm making him rush through traffic to get there that early, I think. So...uhh....definitely feel bad about that. I'm definitely not worth rushing through traffic.

Anywho. So....Walmart es no bueno. The assistant manager of the Poway Walmart totally humiliated my madre in front of tons of people and all she wanted to do was return a frakking camera. Stupid skinhead. He literally was like baiting her and she made a mistake and took the bait. And when the other assistant manager came over, she described the skin head assitant manager's attitude as "asshole"-esque. And the skinhead's like "If you're going to use that kind of language, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

REALLY? Dude, you probably drop the f-bomb every five seconds when you're not at work. People drop the f-bomb all the time in Walmart. Heck, I drop the f-bomb in Walmart. Not once have I ever been approached by a Walmart employee and told that I might have to leave if I decide to continue using foul language. I betcha Target would welcome the foul-mouthed customers that Walmart denies. Not that my mom is foul-mouthed. She was embarrassed about saying asshole. I wouldn't have just let that slide, though. I would've been on that guy's ass. Verbally speaking, of course. I would've been like "really? you're asking me to leave for saying the word "asshole"? How 'bout you kick out all the people that drop the f-bomb first? Why don't you go on and do that - I'll just wait here while you kick them out first. Because asshole is nowhere near as bad as the f-bomb. Oh, and by the way? Screw you. You're a d-bag and you have no customer service skills whatsoever. Go back to kindergarten and learn how to play nicely with other children."

That's my schpiel. No one disses my momma and gets away with it. Not even me. Believe me. I would know. I've tried. Don't get me wrong. I love my mom. We just don't always get along. I'm a more tactful version of her that has stronger opinions.

Anywho.

Yeah. Went to the UC Protest Organization Meeting on campus tonight. It was awesome. The past few weeks were totally lame and depressing, but after the meeting, I was just like....on a new high. It's like I found something to channel my problems and stress and anger into. Not that I'm going to be violent or anything. I'm only violent when I'm really mad and I'm only really mad when I'm arguing with my mom or dad or brother. Other times, I'm completely under control.

So....I'm still tired. And hungry. Ew, I have to wake up early tomorrow. Today. In seven hours. Ew.

Cassandra? I did that thing again. Same way I did it last time. And now I feel stupid about doing it. Anywho.

And little bro? You're the one I'm thinking about when I'm at the protest meetings.

That's all for now. Cheers.

So I have this mask. It's called "Happy Christina." I wear it everyday (mostly) except the days that I forget it. Or the days that I just can't fit it over everything else.

And I'm tired of wearing it.

I don't like my mask. And, yet, I'm so afraid of casting it aside forever.

It hurts to wear my mask.

When someone says "I'm sure you've heard this before, but you look gorgeous in your profile picture," I laugh it off and thank them. But inside, I don't believe them for a moment. Why? Because my mask was in place when the picture was taken.

Today I looked down from the third floor. I stared down at the courtyard before me and imagined stepping off the edge. I imagined what it might be like to fall down three stories. As many of my close friends know, I'm a very visual person. I can imagine nearly anything and almost feel it. I've decided that three stories is too tall. The second story? Maybe.

It'd be so easy, too. There's no one around me most of the time. It'd be so easy to just climb over the railing and....step off. Sure, my mind entertains the notions of a certain someone reading this blog and then valiantly intercepting my attempt. But let's face reality. That's not going to happen. Don't get me wrong. I'm not going to actually do this. I've just been thinking about it today. For those of you who can't tell the difference between thinking and acting.

I want him to ask me again so badly. I want him to be the person I can email or talk to. But he's not going to be. I know this. Don't ask me how, but I just know. And I've been right about these things before. I usually am. It'd be great if I was surprised and wrong. But that's not going to happen either.

"Who's there knocking at my window?
The owl and the Dead Boy
This night whispers my name
All the dying children

Virgin snow beneath my feet
Painting the world in white
I tread the way
and lose myself into a tale

Come hell or high water
My search will go on
Clayborn Voyage without an end

A nightingale in a golden cage
That's me locked inside reality's maze
Come someone make my heavy heart light
Come undone
Bring me back to life

A nightingale in a golden cage
That's me locked inside reality's maze
Come someone make my heavy heart light
It all starts with a lullaby

Journey homeward bound
The sound of a dolphin calling
Tearing off the mask of man
The tower-my sole guide
This is who I am
Escapist
Paradise Seeker
Farewell, time to fly
Out of sight
Out of time
Away from all lies

A nightingale in a golden cage
That's me locked inside reality's maze."

That's an excerpt from Nightwish's "Escapist." I don't know how I've never stumbled upon this song before, but now that I have, it's been on repeat for awhile.

I think I'll go to the ARC. Last time I went, I nearly blacked out because I worked myself so hard. I'll try that again. And I'll still come back the same as I am now. That's what happened last time.
 
I've accepted the fact that I can't control my depression. And I'm screaming inside to tell someone. But, as in the past, I'm picky about who I tell these things to. For some reason, they have to be older and male. I don't know. Maybe it's because I look for father figures? Who knows.
 
I've wanted to return to my usual method of dealing with things so badly, but all I have are a few pairs of blunt scissors and that just won't cut it. No pun intended. I've been thinking about what I use back at home and I'm wishing I hadn't left them behind.
 
I grow bored with words.

November 12, 2009.

high tide today.
happy happy
caffeine happy
high.
does he see
what my shirt says?
how do you mess up
Easy Mac?
giggle
giggle giggle!

November 12, 2009: Later.

low tide
nothing is funny.
not even English.

November 12, 2009: Even later.

Tears burn
inside and out
a pressure building
up
      and
              up
                    and
                            up
and finally
I
    can't
              b
                 r
                    e
                       a
          t
          h
          e

H    M
E    E
L
P
.

Attempt #3. This one took longer because I was distracted with a very corny movie called Bedtime Stories that my roommates were playing. I should've just stuck my headphones on and blasted some music. That usually helps.

I dreamed last night that I was walking a bridge - you know, one of those rickety wooden rope ones that hangs low over a huge never-ending abyss? Yeah. I dreamed I was walking over one of those and I took a step and the wood fell out from beneath me and I could do was hang there in the middle of the bridge. There was no one around to help pull me back up and I certainly didn't have the strength to get back on the bridge myself.

Anywho. That dream is easily interpreted.

Attempt #3. Probably shittier than the rest. If "shittier" is even a word.

----------------------------------------------------

And nightstand beverages stand still
And twisted sheets grow tighter
And in the air you feel a chill

And yearn to climb familiar hills
But you'll go - you're not a fighter.
And nightstand beverages stand still

Faster and faster - all downhill -
It's dangling over a lighter
And in the air you feel a chill

You'll stay with me if it's His will -
No time for one all-nighter
And nightstand beverages stand still

You hear soft rains outside the sill
You say It's getting brighter
And in the air you feel a chill

You feel it failing now (your Will)
The beating now grows slighter
And nightstand beverages stand still
My Shadow and I still feel the chill.

Here's attempt #2. I wish this came easier. Merlin, seriously? FML. Why does all my stuff have to be so frakking morbid? Geez, I already know my poetry sucks. Why don't you just rub it in? It's not like I don't already feel like shit today. It's harder than it looks to pretend you're happy and cheery and feeling well. Because, really, I'm none of those. I feel like I could vomit at any moment. I'm in one of my low periods.

And I don't have a "Fitz" or a "Leslie" to talk to. The one person I'd consider? Not available to talk to about that sort of stuff. I went to his office hours yesterday and at one point he said, "Talk to me." And I said what I usually say to Fitz when that statement comes up: "What do you want me to say?" And he said, "You seem so sad."

That was my chance. I could've just said it all right there. "Yes, sir. I am sad. Because there are things in my life that I can't deal with. Because the people I put my trust and confidence in are no longer here to help me. Because I have no one to talk to about the crap that happens in my life. Yes, sir, I am very sad."

But, no. What did I do? I let my brain take over, let it lie for me again. And I said, "Well...it's a big paper." Was it a blatant lie? No. Not really. I mean, it is a big paper. It's worth 30% of the grade. But it wasn't the biggest thing that was making me "sad" at that moment. And why did I shield the truth from him? I have a few answers prepared for this question.

1) He teaches english in a college setting. He has tons of students. My problems are the last things he has time for.
2) He probably doesn't want to know.
3) He probably doesn't want to deal.
4) He probably would be weirded out. Like many are.

I can't think of anymore, but I'm sure there are several more out there.

And the number one reason I'm afraid to hand in my poetry? Because I know if he reads it, he'll see what I'm saying and will do one or all of the following:

1) Tell me it's rubbish. Because it probably is.
2) Think I'm just another teen angst writer.
3) Think poorly of me.

I like none of those options. And I'm not just another teen angst writer. Most teen angst writers are going through normal problems that most teenagers go through. I like to consider myself a young adult with abnormal problems. I mean, come on, your average college freshman doesn't have two clinically depressed parents (one with anger management issues and the other with OCD) or a brother who tries to remain detached from life at home. To add to that, I'm clinically depressed myself. Not as bad as my parents, for sure. But I have major swings. I'll be on a high for an amount of time, and then I'll be on a low for an amount of time. I try to control it because if I can't control what happens at home, then I sure as hell try to control myself. But it comes back to that bit of truth that slaps me in the face every time: I can't control it.

Wow. That was a tangent. Anywho. Attempt #2. For the second time. I feel pathetic now. Ew. I don't like this one very much. Hell, I don't like any of them very much. They're too whiny and personal. LGUJKLASJLAKSJdl .()@*%(#

-------------------------------------------------------------

Even though I've left them behind
I will see my secret friends
And they are ever on my mind

And together they're oh-so-kind
With low tide they make amends
For devoured Fruit in time behind

Evidence of their Hate is lined
Rich with rubies from where they rend
But I cannot push them from my mind

When seasons change, then shall I find
Them waiting. And back I'll send
To repair what I've left behind

The offending limbs they have signed
Glinting, shining as they tend
Their poison spreads throughout my mind

My friends would surely have declined
Requests for our friendship to end
Forbidden to leave them behind
They are - forever - on my Mind

So....Professor Clover made an extra credit assignment: write a serious villanelle and you'll get five points. So I wrote three. And I don't know which one I like.

Also, I realize suddenly just how at ease with yourself you have to be when you're a poet. Imagine: Elizabeth Bishop was a lesbian at a time when homosexuality was not very well accepted and wrote a poem after her lover killed herself. She had to be completely at ease with what she was writing because everyone who read her poetry would eventually know. So, knowing this, I feel even more nervous about turning in one of my poems because I don't like my personal writing being judged. And that's what's going to happen. I'll turn it in and someone will decide if my poem is serious or not. And if they understand what I'm talking about (and they probably will, since they're smarter than I am) then they'll know about a part of me that I don't readily and easily reveal to people.

Maybe I should just keep the three I've already written to myself and write something less......"personal."

But that's not the point. I want your opinions. And I know my work is probably complete and utter rubbish compared to the great poets of time, but, hey, no one said I had to be the next T.S. Eliot, now, did they?

Anywho. Here's the first one I wrote. Now, keep in mind, I usually am more visual and creative with words when I'm depressed. I don't know why, but that's just how I write my poetry. I can only seem to write it when I'm low. Well, actually, I don't know. I feel like I write better when I'm depressed. Poetry, that is. Who knows. Maybe I'll try to write when I'm happier and see what the difference is.

-------------------------------------------

But this is a low tide.
I cannot feel the way
For there is nowhere to hide.

When you asked, I lied
Prayed my eyes would convey
That this is a low tide.

"Please ask!" my soul cried
But the waves rolled away
And there is nowhere to hide.

And I wanted to confide
"So talk to me," you say
But this is a low tide.

And if asked again, I'd
Confess 'til end of day
That I've nowhere to hide.

Sans Moon, I cannot abide
The burning, scorching ray
For this is a low tide
And there's nowhere to hide.

Ah, blogger. It's been so long since we've talked.

So...I'm in college now. Surprise, surprise.

I actually fell down the stairs on my first day. It hurt, too. A lot. My suitemates are awesome. So are my roomies. One of them is from my church and the other is her friend from school. Suite, eh? Haha that's punny.

Well...let's see. I'm taking Animal Science 1 and my Professor is from New Jersey. He's quite funny and a little absent-minded. He reminds me of Emma's dad, except he has more gray hair.

My math professor is difficult to understand. He's got a very thick asian accent. I think I understand him better than some, but it's still a tad difficult. And he's teaching things in completely different ways than I was taught at PHS. I still think PHS does it mo' betta.

My English professor is like David Tennant + Graber. And he's a little more flamboyant than they are. And he drops the f-bomb at least once every class. First day it was twice. Yesterday it was thrice. His hair is completely white, yet I don't think he's past his mid-40s. He's also hilarious.

And for my freshman seminar class on Dr. Strangelove and finding humor in nuclear war.....well, my professor reminds me of Ms McMillan. 'Cept the Prof's a little taller, maybe. And isn't quite as fashionable. And has hair that's a mixture of Hermione Granger + Rogue (from X-Men). But she's still funny. And I enjoy talking with her.

Yep.

As for myself? Well....I didn't fall down the stairs yesterday, which was a good thing. And now I'm sick, along with half my other suitemates. I essentially don't have much of a voice. Which sucks.

And I also have to leave for my animal science class now. So...yeah. That's all for now, folks. Laters.

Wow. Fitz was right. It's been awhile since I've posted.

Ok. Summer. So....

I went to Denver for three weeks with my brother. Great bonding time. We're definitely a lot closer now. I'm being so serious right now. No sarcasm at all. Seriously. Got to see my aunts and cousins and uncle and grandmother. Good times. Two of my cousins are due soon. One in October. The other either two weeks before or after. Can't remember. Met a new cousin. Daughter of my cousin's girlfriend. 12 years old, I think. More like second cousin, but who's counting? I like her a lot. She's pretty cool.

My cousin has a HUGE Great Dane named Thor. Fitting name, I thought. And his sister has a English Bulldog named Malice. Name hardly fits the dog; he's a sweetie-pie.

One of the weeks in Denver I spent at church convention, which was actually really good for me. I reconnected with my faith and was able to work through some things concerning my parents. I still have a lot of anger towards both of them, however, and that will likely take years to get over. But the first step is moving out and getting on with my own life. Well, I'm not really moving out, but I'm going to college and living in a dorm this year. Maybe next year I'll be ready for the apartment.

Oh, yeah. That's right. I'm going to college. Oops. Forgot. UC Davis. At least ten to twelve hours away. And I'll be alone. Well, I'll have a roommate - two, actually. But I mean....no one to make my food for me....or pay for my gas (not that I'll need any at college this year)....or fix my car....huh....well that's about all my parents do at the moment besides pay for college....and that's only my dad....well, they do buy groceries. But that's easy. I do that on my own when I need stuff. So I guess it won't be so hard this year. What comes next year will be bills. *shudder* Ew. Bills. Gross.

And I have to get a credit card this year for emergencies. Dad said so. I don't like credit cards. I see what my mother and other irresponsible people do with them and I shudder. I don't want one. I like my cash, thankyouverymuch.

Anywho...once upon a time, I was talking about church convention. Oh, yeah. So it was great. Heard a lot of good things, had a personal visit with one of the visiting ministers that's known me since I was born, and bonded with other people. Funnily enough, it doesn't matter what field or state I'm in, I still don't find much in common with the kids my age that aren't related to me. I always tend to find more in common with people that are above a certain age. Well, the fact that I stayed in the kitchen working almost constantly probably didn't help....

Anywho, after the last day, we all went to one of my aunts' houses for pizza. My cousins Hazy and Tyler had come for that Sunday of the convention with their mom. We don't see them very often because they live in Nebraska on a ranch, which is AWESOME. I'd like to go back there some day. Anyways, after that, there were many adventures with the cousins. My brother, and two of our cousins, and I went to the midnight premiere of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. My brother went out to Lake Powell for a fishing trip. I went to the Denver Zoo and the Denver Aquarium. There was an indoor trampoline gym that we went to as well. It was tiring.

Then we came back. My brother was sad to leave. He really does dislike being at home so much that he feels more at home with my aunt and her family. That's his escape, I guess. Visiting them, being with them, etc. Oh, I rode bareback at my aunt JoAnn's house up in the mountains. Her house is shaped like golfball. I so want to buy it from her someday. It's awesome and so incredibly beautiful up there. Anyway, I rode her horse Indigo bareback down the hill to get the mail one day and got sunburned, but it was a fun experience. I nearly fell off a couple times - it's harder than I thought to stay on the horse without a saddle!

I didn't have any compulsions or depressed days up there at all. Like I said, it was healthy for me. When I got back, I completely overhauled my room and got rid of a bunch of stuff. Reorganized too. Came to the unfortunate realization that I have too many clothes. That, or I need more space to store stuff. Come to think of it, I do need a new shelf. And I could get rid of that stuffed animal thing near my second desk....

I'm sitting on Jessie's couch next to her brother. She's sitting at the computer. We're watching Spiderman. And her brother is getting on my nerves. I swear this kid is like ADD or something. He won't shut up and he thinks his comments are intelligent. Sorry Cassandra, Jessie. My patience is thin at the moment. I must be PMSing.

"Who am I? You sure you wanna know?" No, Tobey Macguire, I don't wanna know. I don't like this movie. It's a so-so on my list. I saw Julie and Julia last night. It was cute. Meryl Streep was amazing. Saw The Time Traveller's Wife today. That made me cry a the end. Anywho, kinda want to see G.I. Joe just for Chris Eccleston. Speaking of the Doctor, saw David Tennant at the Doctor Who panel at Comic-con. And can I say, "FRAKKING AWESOME."

Yes. Frak. I have delved into the world that is Battlestar Galactica. And it's also frakking awesome. Haven't finished the first season yet, as I've spent a couple weeks catching up on Angel. Didn't like the ending of the fifth season.

Now I'm bored. And tired. Think I'll zone out and just read fanfiction. And get some icons. yeah.

Laters.

It's over. I can't believe it.

I thought I was going to cry. I would have bet money that I was going to cry. And, surprisingly, I didn't.

The ceremony was wonderful. The Die Lieders sang beautifully, Jake's solo was a song I sang in 5th grade (which made it even cooler), and Chanell's solo was amazing. I teared up during "For Good" but didn't cry.

I sat there in my chair the whole time, hoping that my calculations were correct, that each teacher would hand out diplomas to four rows and then switch. That way, one of my most favorite teachers would give me mine. I could have been shaking for all the excitement I had. And when my row stood up, I couldn't keep the smile off my face. Believe me, I tried. I wanted to look serious, but I just couldn't stop smiling. And then, when I was just two people away, I had to bite my lip to keep from smiling too much. And then Brian went up the two steps and took his diploma. And I waited for Mr. Maxie to call my name. When he did, I couldn't stop from smiling anymore. I took those last two steps and I was so very happy to take my empty diploma thingy from Dr. Fitz. I wonder what happens to those pictures they take while you're getting your diploma....

Getting my diploma from one of my favorite teachers absolutely made my day. Not that my day wasn't already made by the whole graduation thing, but it just made it even more amazing.

After the ceremony, I hurried over to the Poway Rock to meet up with family and grab my diploma (which I was first in line for). Bethany tackled me once I got there, picked me up, and swung me around and around. It was fun. After I got my diploma, I gave big hugs to Emma and Jessica and Jessie and Bethany and pretty much anyone I knew who I found. My dad finally came down, followed shortly thereafter by my mother and Vejaya, who had never been to an American graduation ceremony before. It was an honor for her to come to mine and have it be her first. I took my phone and my camera from my dad, gave him a hug, and had him start to take pictures. My mom came down, gave me a lei (spelling?) with legit flowers and a bouquet. More pictures were taken - especially by Kami, who'd brought her awesome expensive Canon DSLR. I'm still waiting for those, fyi.....*hint hint Kami*

Anywho, then after many pictures had been taken, I bid adieu to my parents and Vejaya just in case I didn't find them again that night, and went off in search of more friends and teachers to take pictures with. We found Stacy Moon and Abbey Howe and many other people and then finally ran into my favorite Golden Trio: Fitz, Graber, and Lewis (alphabetical order, ftw). I got pictures with all of them and even when I wasn't posing with someone, Kami kept snapping pics. I made some pretty weird faces. I tried to get a pic with Lewis, Fitz, and Graber at the same time, but in most of them, they were all looking off in a different direction or were talking to someone else.

And then Emma found me again and took me off to her family, who had another bouquet for me. They all gave me hugs and we decided to go back to the cars to drop everything off. But not before I gave one final hug to my two favorite teachers EVER: Lewis and Fitz. After that we trekked back to the Faculty Parking Lot where both Emma and I were parked - oh yeah, I had to get my keys from Fitz because they were in his pocket. Anywho, Emma's mom took my flowers home, we dumped our flower leis in the back of my car, along with our caps and gowns, and grabbed our clothes to change in the bathroom. On the way there, we met Lewis, who was heading home for the night, then changed, came back, made some last minute calls, and went to Grad Nite 2009.

Needless to say, Grad Nite was so AWESOME that I can't even begin to describe just how AWESOME it was. There was DDR, Guitar Hero, a chocolate fountain, a lemonade fountain, a candy bar (a bar for candy), coffee, a DJ, tattoos, a hypnotist, a pool table, an ice sculture in the shape of a guitar that they poured energy drinks into, fortune tellers, handwriting analyzers, hair stylists, a rock wall, a giant slide, carnival rides, a money machine, a dress-up photography booth, jewelry-making booths, carnival games, raffles, free food, a casino, paparazzi, cool prizes - it was SOOO COOL.

I put a lot of my raffle tickets in this raffle for Birch Aquarium tickets. The nerd in me screamed when I won them along with a gas card. I also won this random action figure that I don't remember signing up for....but it came with a cool Victorinox Swiss U. backpack. I got some stickers for my bro and a cool hand-painted box that I think I'll take with me to college. Jake got the bike he wanted, Evelyn got the dorm comforter that she wanted, Bethany won posters, JT won a bike, Emily won a giant bear, and Linzi won something that I can't recall.

Anyway, after partying for eight straight hours, I was surprisingly awake enough to drop Emma off at her house and drive home. And of course when I got home and unlocked the front door, I found that it was chain-locked. So I had to ring the doorbell and wake my mom up so that she could let me in. >_<>