You're the neutrino to my relative motion, baby.

In physics recently, they've just discovered that the particle neutrino can move faster than the speed of light, which is causing a stir in the realm of theoretical physics because if that were true, then it would disprove Einstein's theory of relativity, and that theory is the glue that holds together almost every other scientific theory.

That's kinda how I feel right about now.

Things move so fast that they shatter the foundation of everything in which one believes.

Yeah, sounds about right.

There are things I need to do.

• get cat food and highlighters
• get a job
• get my priorities straight
• move out on my own

Short-term goals.

One-year plan:

• get through two semesters at OCCC with passing grades
• get a job and save a decent amount of each paycheck
• move in with some roommates somewhere
• continue saving money

What as always been in the future tense is now in the present tense.

This frightens me.

If I were to write a play entirely centered in the mind of a disturbed girl

how would it go?

http://www.nyaap.org/about-jungian-analysis#2

http://www.uky.edu/~aubel2/eng104/myth/essay2.html

http://www.scriptfrenzy.org/howtoformatastageplay

The dialogue of the play is languid and artistic, not colloquial, and everyone wears somewhat avant-garde type costumes.

cages

walking shadows - influential memories, people, emotions

surrealism

music

prominent usage of colors

archetypes

some frightening imagery

Dante?

very interpretive sets, props, costumes

Aesthetic Franticisms

I wrote this a year ago.

I know franticisms is not a word, just to clear up any confusion.

Call me emo. Call me stupid. Be irritated. Be better than me. At this point, I just expect it from you. All of you. To look at the situation, see how it applies to you, and then get offended and not see how it affected me. How it is affecting me. It's okay, too, because I'd probably do the same thing. It's natural.

I feel extremely mixed up and confused right now, because I feel like I'm being slowly forgotten by all those people around me who care except for four people.

I know I act like I'm over it and I stress that it's cool - I'm not mad or upset or anything - but I'm not over it and I am upset. Razia's Shadow failed only because of my friends who are "flaky" and choose to disregard something into which they all poured some part of their lives.

You're "flaky."

I'm sorry, but that's almost insulting with how trivial it is. You're "flaky" and this is something that I invested so much time, money, self and emotional conflicts in just to see it succeed. And you're "flaky," so you'd rather watch it wither and die than push forward a little more and watch it bloom into an amazing show.

Yes, I understand that it's my project, so of course I'm more willing to put forth my effort, but everyone pushed for it. Everyone sacrificed a lot. Everyone learned a lot. Everyone had fun.

Your "heart isn't in it anymore." You're "flaky." "It's not your fault, Kate."

I'm sick of your bullshit.

I'm fucking ANGRY at the fact that the first thing I ever really put all my faith in failed because of your fucking whims and your lack of caring enough about me and the project to see it live.

Yeah, I'm angry. ANGRY. I'm fucking furious.

I just had to sit on my hands and watch it DIE because I didn't want to seem bitchy about being upset that you all have your own lives to worry about. I know it's insensitive of me. I know it is. I tell myself that every time I think about this. But I still feel like you're being extremely insensitive toward me by just dropping it like a fucking worthless rock because you got bored with it and decided you didn't want to put forth any more effort.

It upsets me the most because I'd do it for you. If you had something you were so extremely passionate about, so completely immersed in, so set on attempting something of its nature as a career choice, I'd sacrifice whatever the fuck you wanted me to sacrifice to see it through because I care about you.

Only a couple of you might read this and I hope you don't think that I'm pissed at you for having your own life or not caring as much about the project as I do, because that's not it at all. I love you guys. I really do. But to watch something so valuable, so beautiful just DIE because some people were "flaky" and bored really, really, really cuts deep in an area that hasn't stopped bleeding.

I hate myself for not deserving enough respect.

I hate myself for not proving to you all how important this project was to me.

I hate all of you for not caring about it and, indirectly, my life.

I hate all of you for never changing and always leaving me out.

But, truthfully, I just hate myself for not being good enough for you.

I really want to kill myself - true. But I most likely won't because there's still a chance that I might achieve something. There's still a couple of people that really, really love me, even though they weren't involved with Razia or dropped out of it. There's still the image in my head of a group of friends walking out of a movie theater and buzzing about the movie that they just watched. There's still the shadow of a future society on which I might leave a mark. There's still a whisper of applause.

But sometimes, I just want you all to watch me fucking burn as you sit helplessly. I want to know that you'd actually be sad if I fucking died, because no one seems to care that we have no fucking classes together or lunch together or that we don't hang out after school.

If I cut myself off from the world, who'd actually remember me?

My mom
Brian
Ray
Conner

Maybe Nicole.

At least there's those, I guess.

It's really amazing how much has changed in a year.

Wow.

That one project thing

The introduction:

We are in a really weird and interesting state of development right now. We're about to graduate. We're all about to split up. We're really finding out who we are. We're in the process of having our minds blown and our limits tested. I want to document the immense change that has already begun t to shake our foundations and knock us loose from our good old suburbian comfort zone. This project is about the passage of time and growth of our frames of mind. It's about the youth of today and what's going on in their heads as they head out into the mad world of optional schooling, figurative umbilical cord cutting and career choices. It's about that emerging fission that's ripping through our minds and propelling us with ambitions to reach the top, enthralling us with daydreams of what's to come, and scaring the shit out of us with incessant uncertainty.

Basically, it's about us growing up.

The overview:

We all will film a little introduction to who we are, a day-in-the-life, and will talk about our beliefs and dreams and ideals for the upcoming future. There will be some clips of us hanging out, a couple lighthearted events - this will lead up to graduation.

After graduation, we'll film a little bit during the summer, pass the camera around to everyone just so we can keep a relative idea of what you've been doing all summer, your thoughts on college getting closer, and then make a montage of when everyone moves out or stays behind.

After some time passes and everyone gets settled in to their new homes/routines, I'll pass the camera around again (or if you're out of the state, I'll either visit or you can just make videos and send them to me online). How is everyone handling their new lives? What does the new dorm room look like? What does the campus look like? What's your class schedule? Basically another day-in-the-life.

Then, after that, I'll figure out what to do.

This is really important:

BE AS HONEST AS POSSIBLE. Be as explicit as you can possibly stand. This whole project is absolutely meaningless if you're not going to be honest. You only need to answer the questions provided, and if you are legitimately uncomfortable with answering something, you don't necessarily have to, but PLEASE don't hold back on any questions you do choose to answer. Yes, I will be viewing these, but I won't judge you for anything you say, and these clips will be edited, so if you make a twenty-minute video about religion, it will probably just be cut to a few key points, but without deep honesty, this project will seem empty. This is about the mentality of young adults in the situation we're going through right now and the way they think, not about fluff, though fluff is necessary too. :)


WHEN IT'S YOUR TURN TO HAVE THE CAMERA FOR A WEEK:

Day 1: Your face
Name.
Age.
Grade.
What are your plans for the near future? (Summer, college, etc.)
Tour of your house/room (room especially).
Three things you can't go without in a given day.
The coolest or most sentimental thing(s) you own.

Day 2: Your life story
Just list a few influential events in your life in some kind of chronological order and describe how they've shaped you into the person you are now, and please specifiy which event has left the biggest impression.

Day 3: Your general thoughts
What is your biggest pet peeve/turn on?
What takes up most of your time during any given day?
What is your favorite (all of these if possible) movie, show, book, band, song, color, quote, and why?
How do you feel about politics?
What are your religious/spiritual views, if there are any, and why do you feel that way?

Day 4: Your survivors (family and friends)
Show pictures or hopefully get a few people on video. (Not the whole family, please; just your nuclear family, the people you live with if that's not the same, and the people you see very often)
Describe which family member and friend you think you're closest to and/or who has helped you through the most. Give an example of such a time.
If you don't feel very close to your family or friends, explain why and if you wish things could be different.

Day 5: Your memories
What was the best day/night of your life?
What was the worst?
Who has been your friend the longest and what is your relationship status now?
Who was your first real relationship? Describe the significant events that took place.
What's a really significant childhood memory that sticks out to you?

Day 6: Your future
What college are you going to and why?
If you're not going to college, why not and what are your plans for the future, both near and distant?
What is your dream job and why?
Do you have marriage/kids in mind? Describe that part of your plan.
Are you confident with where you're going? Why or why not?

Day 7: Your soul
What's your passion in life? (not necessarily career-wise if you're not sure about it - just what gets you fired up)
Who or what influences the way you think the most?
Have you ever been in love? With whom and what happened?
If this applies, when did you first realize you were gay and how do you feel about it?
How do you really feel about yourself? (Be HONEST - if you hate yourself or if you think you're pretty okay or even if you think you're the shit, be honest.)


I'll make another list of questions when the next pass goes around.

Here's another biggie:

MY VIDEO CAMERA IS A FIVE-HUNDRED DOLLAR PIECE OF EQUIPMENT SO IT NEEDS TO BE TREATED LIKE AN EXTREMELY FRAGILE TALISMAN BESTOWED UNTO YOU BY A SACRED DEITY.
Seriously, if you break it or anything, I'll be pissed. And somehow, someway, I'm getting a new one, and that feat will be your responsibility.

Also, please don't spread around that we're doing this. You don't need to keep it top-secret or anything, but I can think of a few people who would not take too kindly to being left out. I chose you people because you're all extremely different from one another and also my closest friends.

This is THE LIST (which is subject to change if you don't want to take it that week or whatever):

Me
Tyler
Hannah
Joey
Nicole
Emily
Ray
Fernandez
Shianne
Gabby

Don't be afraid to ask questions or opt out if you don't wanna commit, but I'm super excited and I think this is going to be really awesome when it's all done.

Thank you all so much for agreeing to take part in this. The diversity is awesome and it's gonna be great.

If I could be convincing, I would be.

So, Brian wrote a really long description of the beginning and ending of our relationship.

-

I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say. I hate knowing that you feel that way. I know it's probably not what you want to hear, but it's true. It's hard living without you and feeling like I don't know who I am or if anything I do is right. But honestly, it's even harder knowing that I made the right decision.

I was terrified of what it would do to you, of being alone, of being a heartless bitch, of losing you, of pulling myself up after knocking both of us down and having to do it alone.

Then I finally did it. I ripped your heart out.

Still, I question if I made the right decision, but then I remember that sickening uncertainty that crippled me every day, feeling like I was lying to you by staying with you, not because I didn't love you, but because I felt like I was pretending to be someone else every time I was with you.

After I emerged from my critical depression, I felt something different. My entire frame of mind had tilted off its axis. It changed the way I view the world, myself, and, in turn, our relationship. All of that change that suddenly heaved onto my life, all of that insanity I experienced, all of that terrifying, mortifying isolation that my soul bore like a wound, all of that swallowing darkness served as a chisel, chipping away at my rough, outer surface. The worse I suffered, the more was shaved away, and when I reemerged into the waking world of consciousness, everything was different. I didn't have that lens through which I'd been viewing my life, wishing I could partake. Underneath the rocky shell I'd been weighing myself down with was something raw, vulnerable, and pure. My natural defenses just turned off the emotion switch whenever something personally vindictive stood before me, and this also served as a block from truly feeling any joy.

Something was growing, scratching, growling inside of me. I tried to suppress it - thus, the pretending - I tried to explain it away and say that it didn't have to overpower me and who I was when I was with you. I really tried. I didn't want to lose you - what we had. Everything was perfect. So, I tried to pretend like nothing had happened - like I reemerged from the depression completely back to normal. I tried to ignore the pressing quest for self that filled every part of me. I thought I already knew who I was as much as I could as this part of my life. It seems that every time I think that, something happens and changes everything.

But I couldn't win. It consumed me like fire. Every day I felt the burning prickling my skin, charring pieces of me to ashy debris. I was emerging as someone completely new, and it was like a freight train. I just couldn't keep it to myself any longer.

But every time I tried to share this with you, it seemed like you were just on the sidelines, and if you weren't on the sidelines, you weren't on the same wavelength at all. There were so many areas where we didn't connect, mainly what we wanted out of life, and I couldn't pretend like I was content with this difference. I want the world. You just wanted me. It was when I saw this that I realized our relationship wouldn't work anymore.

You were so content with just having me in your life that nothing else mattered anywhere near as much. At least, that's what I saw, and that's what everyone else saw, too. And it made me feel like shit, because I want so much more than just the perfect partner. I want to be immersed in everything I love, which is theater, love, fun, other people, music and art in general. So yeah, I felt selfish and like I wasn't being honest with you. I grew restless. I grew discontented. I want everything, and you just want me.

Even if that's not entirely true, it's mostly true, and that's really all I saw, so even if that isn't true at all and I was in the wrong for picking up on it, clearly we weren't connecting at all anymore.

You say you wish you never met me. Well, I'm really sorry you feel that way. Extremely sorry, because I sure as hell thought that the good times we had together were infinitely more intense than the bad times we're going through apart. Maybe that's just me. I can't say I'm sorry again, because you've stressed that it makes you mad when I do. So I guess all I can say is that I don't ever for one second regret meeting you, being with you, giving you my virginity, or anything at all, and I'm extremely hopeful for the future.

I understand that you're angry and heartbroken and you want to hurt me, so it really is okay that you're so hostile and venomous toward me. I accept it. You probably don't want to hear that either, but I'm being honest with you.

I still love you. I need to be on my own. I'm a different person right now, and I'm about to get even more different. I hope we can still have some semblance of a friendship.

Dr. Horrible notes

I need to get stuff DONE:

• Fundraisers
• Advertising
• BLOCKING DESIGN (AAAAAGGGH)

Fundraisers:

• Maybe a small concert thing? With some food and live music?
• SOMETHING ELSE

Advertising:

• Stand pathetically on the sidewalk while passing out flyers in the freezing cold
• Posters up around the city
• Pass flyers out at school
• Facebook, but it's not that reliable
• SOMETHING ELSE

(I need this ><)

BLOCKING DESIGN:

• Watch it several times
• Listen to it several times
• VISUALIZE
• Write down ideas

IN SUMMATION:

I am so screwed.

I don't have any leverage over the city of Edmond.

AAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHH.

Growing pains

I'm loving all the negativity.

LOVIN it.

Man, I wish so many people disliked me all the time.

It's just funny to me how even when I try so hard to be friends, (genuinely, I might add), there's something about me that juuuust repels people.

But hey, soon we'll all go off to different colleges and a new crowd will have to put up with me. So you guys won't ever have to see me again if you don't want to, which at least four of you don't.

So there it is.

Man oh man.

I love growing pains.

However, with weakened relationships, old ones are strengthened, and that's comforting.

Let's be honest

"All charming people, I fancy, are spoiled. It is the secret of their attraction."

- The Portrait of Mr. W. H. by Sandra Williamson, quoting "Erskine"

Napkin notes

"In the Mood for Love"

"Pi" - Darren Arronofsky

Tarkovsky - "Stalker", "The Mirror", "Solaris"

"Koyanisqatsi"

"Russian Ark"

Out of the entire conversation I had with David Rosfeld, this is what stuck with me:

• You don't need a green screen for car scenes if you have small microphones and a guy strapped to the hood of the car.
• Don't be drunk on set.
• It's actually better to shoot scenes with only one camera. It just takes multiple takes and lots and lots of editing.
• Consider the character, setting and story before considering how a scene will be shot.
• Don't try to perform Beethoven's 9th at Carnegie Hall with only six months of piano lessons.
• The gaffer is the electric guy.
• Sound quality and editing is more important than the cinematography.
• It's easier when you're young to ask for favors.
• Invest the most money in good food for the crew. They'll be a lot more willing to do everything you ask if you're super nice to them. Also, allow for mealtime to be downtime.
• You're probably going to suck for the next six or seven years.
• Going to a film-geek-populated town will make you average, irritating and completely un-extraordinary. It's the best kick in the ass you could ever ask for.
• You have to accept that you're going to fail horribly. There's no chance you won't. But those failures are tiles in a floor, and the more you make, the further you go.

today

I'm single today.

No doting boyfriend.

No courageous knight.

No tall, dark, handsome stranger.

No perfect match.

No cosmic pair.

No prince charming.

No.

No.

No.

My family members are dying, one by one.

Wraith

Death has extended

his icy hand,

so it would

appear,

a smirk drying his chapped lips

as he singularly taps the

unsuspecting

shoulder of my family

and blows cold breath

onto its cheeks.

With slender,

black

fingers,

Death

penetrates the

spring

chest

of my relatives

and mind,

syrup leaking

into the veins

and trickling

through the circulatory system

before

blood

and

ink

drip out

of our slightly

open

mouths.

"Why?"

"Why us?"

Death's smirk

simply

grows

into a grin

and he shrugs

his

bony

shoulders,

causing a temporal ripple

down his arms

and

lanky

legs.

He's so thin.

My mother escaped.

She clenched her rosy fists

and shook her head,

demanding a doctor's visit,

albeit somewhat unaware

of the feat she'd just mastered.

Death raises

his

mo

las

ses

brow,

tilts

his

languid

head.

"Which would be worse -

to live as a monster

or die as a good man?"

"I'm never watching that again."

"I warned you."

"Yeah, but I'm never watching that movie again."

Yet, for some reason,

the name

Scorsese

reminds me of a

butterfly.

"It was weird."

"Yeah."

"Something's going on."

"Yeah, I agree."

"It's definitely spiritual."

"Yeah."

And I look to my

finger

nails,

wanting

the subject

to

change.

How long

until Death

rights his

silky head,

ends his

curly smirk

and

dips his

tar-

drenched

finger

nail

into

my

mother's

sternum?

Or mine,

for that

matter?

Her cheeks emulate roses.

A Pretty Bad Poem

Violet Transgressions


While I draw within the lines in the confines of my mind, I sip from the chalice of creative malice and consider the callousness of me. I am a simpleton, a ditzy blonde with nothing left to lose, and while I consider this, I also consider you. You seem to me so full of life, insight and trite, but I know your tightly rife hindsight. You smoke with superiority and bottoms-up your individualism while I stand back and compete with witticism and petulance. I am a mood cloud and you are a false one but at least I rain creativity where you reign with insanity.

Conceivably, I pull these words from some recess left untouched, and yet somehow I make them rhyme.

Wringing forth the purple art from my gel-cap brain I stagger north in tripping arcs and leave marks on some Aurora Borealis of my transcendentalist culture. I am a beautiful butterfly that has no feel for algebra or hard work at all really and oh my, this soup's delicious. But still I tiptoe because for some reason it seems more effective. My Mona Lisa has yet to rouse herself from her hazy wonderings of republicans, democrats, and how the Lord giveth but still taketh away. I may be a sorry excuse of a poet, but at least I'm not the best. I see the rest in a soft limelight and though it makes me crave, I still smirk at your oblivious snobbery.

Conceivably, I feel unwanted and surround myself with fluttering negativities, and yet somehow I have the world thanking me for my coarse fingertips.

(Midnight was three minutes ago, but dusty twilight still stuffs my nostrils. As a recovering Ibuprofen addict, consider me relapsed.)

In the bear traps of my hometown, I start most sentences with a prepositional phrase and drive with my head out the window. To be a widow is to be severed, I think, and to be so tethered to sociocultural norms is so collectivist, don't you think? So rather than making like a tree, let's all be Socrates and shed some purple to those poor dwellers in the caves with nauseatingly fluorescent lights. Speaking of nausea, I know a little too much about internal infections and how they can kill if left untreated.

Garden of Eden

I had another strange dream.

There was a young, blonde girl there, and somehow I knew that she was Alice from Alice in Wonderland. We were in Wonderland already, and she was showing us around. Us being a young man and maybe me, if I was even there. She brought us to a closed gate that looked more like a wall.

"Do you know the password?" she asked the young man. "I think I might've forgotten."

He seemed puzzled as he scanned the blank wall with only a blue, horizontal line. "No, I don't know."

Alice looked back up to it and thought for a few moments. "Maybe it's The Green Tree, because I know there's a green tree in there somewhere." She picked up a paintbrush and painted the words 'the green tree' onto the wall with green paint that seemed to materialize from the brush itself.

"Now we have to create our own birds," she explained, moving over to the other side of the gate. The paint color in the brush changed based on what you wanted to paint, and she painted a red and orange bird with her small form atop it. "You're not going to be able to ride anything if you don't paint it on here first." With that, she handed the young man a brush. After a few moments of confusion, he too began to paint birds with little miniatures of himself riding them. They both laughed, and as they did, the gate broke apart and opened, and Alice took his hand and led him inside.

She took him to a red table and they sat across from each other. Behind Alice was a large tree. "This is the game. You have a dream of something and it comes true. For instance, I have a dream of a rain shower." Out of nowhere, rain fell onto the young man, despite his protests. "And you have to beat it," Alice continued, watching idly.

The young man looked completely confused, but then started beating away the raindrops somehow, and the rain eventually disappeared.

Alice grinned now. "Too easy. I have a dream of a place to play."

The tree all of a sudden opened up into a garden, and the two of them went inside. It right outside the tree's doorway, there was a smaller tree with bright green leaves and a red fruit hanging from one of the low branches. The two played games for a while before their time was up and they returned to the table outside of the tree.

"My turn?" the young man asked, clearly having fun with this. As she was about to warn him to be careful, he closed his eyes, leaned back, and spoke the words, "I have a dream of another dream, of another Wonderland, that's dark and mysterious."

"That's too much," Alice answered, but the tree opened up and a loud, shrieking, whirling wind came to pull them in, but before it could, I got a glimpse of the new Wonderland the boy had created. It was the same as the garden that Alice had created, but everything looked dead and sinister. The sky was dark red and the trees were black silhouettes against it. Black birds flew out of the thin branches. The small tree now had black branches with no leaves, and the red fruit still hung from a low branch, but now seemed evil rather than juicy.

But, then I woke up.

Killackey's Request:

1. Why am I here?
I'm here right now because I love English. I love everything it has to offer. I love being able to see things not only as they are on the surface, but as they want to be beneath the face-value. The study of English fascinates me - it's abstract and artful, like my own thoughts and ideals - yet it's concrete with strict rules, like grammar, punctuation, syntax, and all those rhetorical devices I learned a few months ago. I'm here simply because I love the rigorous analysis and the emotion that can be revealed if one chooses to look deeply enough into a piece of literature. I want to learn more about the study of artful analysis. In complete honestly, I want to soak up as much as I can so that I can not only apply it to my own writing, but acutely appreciate the works of others - books, movies, or otherwise.

2. What is the point of reading a novel, poem, or short story?
The point is what can be derived from the novel, poem or short story. The thematic statement, the commentary on life and religion, the deep, nameless emotions that can be so accurately described in a literary work. Literature can change the way one views the world, a troubling situation, or even himself. Without literature, we as people would have no gage for what matters and what doesn't. We wouldn't know what to do with our emotions or our burning questions about life, love, and pursuit. Literature artfully shows us our own emotions in a way that brands our minds with images that we never would've seen before otherwise. The point is the inner message that can enable our minds to ingest an idea that may or may not change the roots of our perceptions.

3. What have I brought to this class and how do I intend to use that talent?
I've brought all I can offer - my feeble attention span and burning creativity. I'm always vocal during class discussions and can offer varying perspectives on different topics. I'm also an extremely interrogative person, so beware. I'm rarely satisfied with one answer. I love going into detail on essays, if you can't tell, and, when it comes to English particularly, I push myself until the emotion or point of view I want to convey is successfully revealed. I can promise that I'm an interesting person, for better or worse, and my questions will keep coming. I love talking about English.

4. What will I give up to give my best to academics?
My academic life, to be quite honest, has always been an intense struggle for me, not only because I really can't focus no matter how much I want to or how much I try, but because my life has always been in a state of violent disarray that, I realize now, will never settle. I don't question my intelligence, as narcissistic as that sounds, but I do question my willingness to sit down, shut up, and focus for a minute. I amaze myself with how distracted I am as a person. If I could give up my distractions, I would. Trust me. I've wiped away countless tears of frustration for my academic life that's always been robbed and maimed by my ADD or whatever it might be, (not that it's not my fault or responsibility, because I understand now that it is.) I can promise you that I will do my honest best. It's senior year and no one has any idea how to sick to death I am of falling behind and trying to catch up all semester.

5. Am I willing to daily read 40 to 60 pages of an outside reading and/or class reading and keep an ongoing log or response to what I am reading?
Willing? I give you a resounding yes. Capable? I give you a seemingly although not actually disrespectful maybe, I'll try. Based on my aforementioned array of mental issues, I can't promise a wonder student that will be everything you've ever asked for in a student, as much as it pains me to say it and probably annoys you to hear it. (Hey, you asked for honesty. Here it is.) However, this year, I've finally found what I believe to be the motivation to quiet my forever inanely buzzing mind and focus on school. I am willing. I am capable. It'll be extremely hard for me, but I can do it, and I will definitely try my hardest to do whatever you or Mrs. Vandagriff asks me to do.

6. What is my highest personal accomplishment?
I want to give you a girl scout résumé complete with the maximum amount of merit badges and saving the life of the troop leader by an impromptu CPR session. However, I was only a girl scout for the earlier years of my life, before it went insane, I think, and I have very little, if any, notable achievements that might be considered worthy in the eyes of someone that's only skimming this ridiculously long email. My greatest personal accomplishments include: feeding my cat every day, doing my homework the day it's assigned, cleaning my room before it gets out of hand, and waking up on time. I'm a social retard.
However, I do have a few that transcend the normal you're-really-dumb-if-you-consider-this-an-accomplishment area. For example, I very nearly directed an amazing musical. I say very nearly in the sense that it was never actually performed, because some of the people involved left the production, but we were almost complete, and it was almost a breathtaking show. I'm proud of what it would've been, and I'm proud of the fact that I know, despite that failure, that I'm going to try it again.
I'm proud of some other things that probably wouldn't be tactful to put on here, since they're extremely personal, but know that they're there.
I think my highest personal achievement is becoming the person I am right now. I've been many different people with many different beliefs and attitudes, but the one I am right now is someone who's less fluid a concept and much more flawed, but in a good way. I accept the responsibility of my chipped attention span, and I accept that I have a lot to learn about life, myself, and on a smaller scale, English. But, I want to learn and I want to reign in my rampant mind. This year, the person I am right now is willing to do anything to get off the track that I've been on and move into a direction of structure, something I've always envied. This person, this confident, likable, artistic, inherently flawed person is willing to push and push as far as she can go to obtain the future that will make her happy and then go on to affect the world. I can promise you that, Mr. Killackey and Mrs. Vandagriff. I don't know if you'll like me, but I know I'll like you and I know I'll try my hardest to do right by both the school and myself. It'll be really, really hard, but I think I can do it, and that's the best place to start. Or so I've heard, anyway.


I hope I didn't irritate you with the probably excessive length -

- Kate Howell

Eighteen

Today is my eighteenth birthday.

I have a job, a car and now eighteen years of memories.

I can go to all those doctor visits by myself, sign all the necessary paperwork.
I can move out into my house if I want to do so, and I can do it right now, (assuming money/school weren’t an issue, of course.)
I can register to vote for the president of my country, have my own opinion that may or may not minutely affect the polling system and, ultimately, the choice for who leads the country in which I live.
I can buy a lottery ticket.
I can smoke cigarettes and not be questioned.
I can buy porn.
I can go to jail.
I can stay out past midnight.
I can get married.

It’s a strange, dizzying feeling to realize that I am able right at this moment to do what I want to do, within reason. The world seems so much larger after knowing and evaluating the true weight of these things that I can do. Can, present tense. There is no future tense anymore.

My life as I know it has ended, descending into ashes as a new life ascends, only a meager ember at the moment. With prodding and room to breathe, it will erupt into vivacious flame, and my new life will sprint across the earth, leaving creation in its wake. My new life will be my forever remembered eruption into what can now be called adulthood.

This strange spiraling moment will not last forever, or even a few days, but it will take root in my soul and sprout a blossom of violet creation and inspiration. I am now obligated to make myself happy.

This is a milestone, as they say, and this stretch of mile will be unpredictable. However, I can predict that it will be one of the happiest couple of years of my life, simply because I refuse to ignore the importance of happiness and aesthetics anymore. This is my last year of required schooling, and I am determined to make it the best year possible, not only for myself, but all of those I choose to love and cherish. This year will be unforgettable. It’s time for us to breathe again.

This is it.

I'm unnecessarily angry right now.

You

are

a

narcissistic

self-involved

life-sucking

drama

queen

that

feeds

off

others'

flaws

to

diminish

your

own

I

can't

believe

I

put

up

with

you

I

eagerly

await

the

day

when

we

go

off

to

different

colleges

and

never

see

each

other

again

Can you believe it?

If your life flashes before your eyes as you die, what does that say about the afterlife?

Do you forget everything once you get over there?

If your life flashes before your eyes and that's the last time that can ever happen, could that mean that the memories are simply streaming from your body, like tears and blood dripping and swirling into a river of nostalgia and past lives?

What if a memory stays with you when you go to the afterlife, like a stubborn insect unable to be shaken from the bottom of a shoe? Would that mean that heaven, hell, the next life, your rebirth, was false, since it wouldn't be a completely fresh slate? Is it possible for your repressed memories to clog up your nacent mind? A gurgling confusion that roils with doubt? Naive questions about life, love, and pursuit, all leading to pointlessness and an overused drainage system?

As my eyes protest any more use and their shields simmer to a close, I consider the necessity of grief and sanity. If peanuts had more protein, we could just eat them instead of cows.

For a lack of better words.

My hands tingle with laziness.

I don't want to be typing this right now, but I don't want to be doing anything at all right now.

I don't want to adjust my leg even though it's falling asleep.

I don't want to turn music on even though it's uncomfortably silent.

I don't want to go out with friends even though I feel isolated from the world.

I just want to stay right here, with my tingling listlessness and prickling solitude.

I miss you, Nicole. <3