Fleeting Memories

There are days when I can just sit here, thinking. Memories come and go like a slideshow moving to fast for one to comprehend what the pictures are, but I still know what they are. I still know, when I see rain scenes and then my mind moves onto something else, I still remember what days they were. I still remember who I was with, what I was wearing, where I was. I wish one memory could stay longer than a fleeting second, but as the days move farther away, the memories stay for less time.

Rain makes me think. It makes me think of darkness, of sorrow, but at the same time, it brings back memories of another day, another place, another time, when things were okay. When things were different, when I was allowed to run in the rain with my friend because we had nothing better to do. When such things wouldn't be considered juvenile because "you're too old for that." And as I get older, I get less and less innocent. I start changing, molding myself into an image I believe will be accepted by society.

I always told myself I would never do such a thing, but as I look back, I always have. I've always changed my shape and ways so that I would not be considered "crazy," or "stupid," because, as much as any self-respecting human hates to admit it, that's the only way to get by. You simply cannot survive by just "being yourself." You must learn to accept that society has its views on things, and that's all that matters.

If you want a tattoo, but the job you want or do doesn't allow them, you will not get a tattoo. If you want black fingernails, but your school has banned them, you will not do it. Rules are what shapes us. Deep inside, we all wish we could be brave enough to do the things we truly long to do, but society has such a band-aid on us, that the sting would be more than a sting if we ripped it off. If we removed the proverbial band-aid and allowed our scars to show, society would not accept us and only push us away. The sting would become a slight burn, until the pain was so white-hot that we were forced to put on another band-aid, this one also approved by the FDA of life.

If our scars are deep enough, society puts a bandage on us. Society wraps us so tightly that we cannot break free, until our nurse decides it's time for another bandage, and for a little while, we are truly ourselves. But then the nurse gets back with the gauze and tape and wraps us right back up again.

Speaking in metaphors again, eh Savannah?

Yep.

Interview With Savannah

So, Savannah, where did you begin your writing career?

Well, it was a couple of years ago, and all my friends were into writing fanfictions. I was pretty good at essay and term papers, so I thought it'd be a cool idea to write my own story. Of course, having been in seventh grade, it sucked complete balls, but, hey, it was my start. I remember it was long and ridiculous, with original characters thrown in here and there because I didn't know enough about the actual characters to write a story.

Hn, interesting. So, Savannah, if you had to choose anyone from any fandom, who would you date?

Oh, that's a fun question. I guess, well... It varies with my mood, right now I'm stuck on Itachi, from Naruto. Although, if Naruto, Kakashi, Iruka, Jiraiya, Deidara, Sasuke, Gaara, Kiba, Shikamaru... Oh, I should stop. This is bad, I feel like a whore! D:

Coolio. So, aside from the fanfiction crap, do you have any bad habits?

Well... I'm a pot head? And I smoke cigarettes, but I intend on quitting. I guess, I should, really, it's not that healthy. Oh, and I bite my nails. Haha, wow.

Why do you do these things, Savannah?

I started smoking cigarettes because it was really the only thing to do in Small-Town USA. I really had every intention to quit after a week or so (I'm so stupid sometimes), but it never happened. And here I am today. I don't do it because I have to now, either. I really do it because I enjoy it. It's not a damned rebellion thing, either. I really just want to live my life as it comes at me, not worrying about the future. I mean, I'll make decisions that will ultimately affect my future, as in my job and life, but not really my health. I'm not going to get into hardcore drugs or anything, oh no. Just weed and cigarettes, that'll satiate me. I've been biting my nails since I was able to lift my fingers to my mouth, so... Now that I have braces, I can't really do it anymore, though.

Okay... You're weird. Anyways, what do you like to do in your spare time?
Well, there's a number of things. I play piano, sing, write, draw, and ride horses. I've been playing piano for seven years now, I've been drawing for... er... EVER, I've sang since I was able to talk, and I've ridden horses for around six years. I actually had my own two horses when I lived in Small-Town USA, and when I moved out to the city I had to sell them. That was one of the hardest things I think I've ever had to do. And then I also had to leave behind my HEIRLOOM piano. Ugh, that pissed me off. But I have a Korg keyboard in Big City USA, so I'm not completely instrument-less.

Hm. If you could be any animal, what would it be?

Oh, that's easy. A horse, of course. As long as I was in under good owner-ship, then, hell yeah.

Okay, that was an interesting interview. Any last comments?
I'll be back... with weapons.

Untitled

I've been having these weird dreams lately. I've been seeing glimpses of a woman in her mid-thirties, she's got brown hair tied back and a white 1800's style dress with a blue apron on. She seems to be cleaning or cooking in the kitchen, and has several children running around her. She's got an older daughter working alongside her, and she looks disdainful. So does the daughter.

I'm curious as to whether or not I'm seeing glimpses into my previous life. It would be amazing if that was it, wouldn't it? I'm curious as to why no one wants to know if they've had a previous life or not. If reincarnation is real, I wonder how far I've come. My soul, I mean. How many lives have I had? Every soul has to start somewhere, right? I wonder if I've lived once or twice, or maybe seven or ten times? I wonder how many of my lives have been happy and prosperous, and I wonder how many of my lives have been depressing and ended in a sorrowful death.

In the Wiccan religion, suicide is not a terrible thing, but is punished. Wiccans do not shun those who've killed themselves, and embrace the souls of the suicides as they have the natural deaths, but as a reincarnation, your next life will be just as bad, if not worse than it was before.

I've been reading a lot of fanfiction lately. I wish I could amount to something like these Mary Sues do. It's not fair. I sit here, I read all night, I go to bed, I wake up, I bitch about hating life, I go to school, I work for seven hours at school, I come home on the trolley, I do homework, I read, I go to bed, I wake up and repeat the process. These people in these stories wake up, intend on doing their daily routine, and somehow, something fucks it up. I wish I could have a not-so-ordinary life. Ah.... I feel like I'm not living up to the standard I'm supposed to because I have no special talents. Sure, I can draw, sure, I can write, play piano, and ride horses, but it's all mediocre! I mean, I do it, and it never seems to be good enough. I'm no Picasso, I'm no Chopin, I'm no Parelli, I'm no Orwell. I want to be all these things. I want to be extraordinary and get peoples' approval at first sight, but I can't. I have to work my ass off to get what I want, to get where I need to be, and no one else seems to need to do these things. Everyone knows everyone except me. It sucks.

I long to find the approval of those who mean most to me, but my heart can't even win the approval of my mother. She says it's a cruel heart. She told me she hopes it grows up as I grow up, for it's a mean heart. I've striven to obtain a mean heart, don't you see? So no one will use me like they would if I had a kind heart. I can make my heart kind if you are deserving, but I need the ability to make it stone if necessary. No one seems to understand this, and I feel so alone. I see people for what they really are: Smelly, nasty, rude, obnoxious, uncaring creatures who's main goal is to reach the top, no matter who they kill in the process. And I desperately wish I wasn't human for this reason. As George Orwell said, "Animal's only enemy is man." I wish I could hide my heart away where no one could find it, where if it was found, it would be impenetrable and unstoppable.

And I wish I could hide away from all the stupidity in this wretched world.

Yellow Cat (Slash) Red Cat

Oh, oh man. Wow. Shit has happened in the past week that I wouldn't believe could be possible. And you know what? I really don't care anymore.

It kind of sucks. You know, I constantly feel on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and I'm fighting it, but how long can I fight it for, you know? Honestly.... People are only so strong.... And I think I have an ulcer. My stomach hurts a lot. Meh. But the title of this blog is a song that belongs to Say Anything, the greatest band ever. Well, for now, at least. Until I find something else that can fulfil the blank spot in my muse. Oh, and as an afterthought, you should really look up the works or Hiromi Uehara. She's an amazing Japanese jazz pianist. She's quite talented (as are all Japanese folk). Oy vey. I made a bunch of multi-lingual friends. It's fun speaking in different languages with them. I hardly ever update, and as time has passed, my muses have gotten less and less interesting, ne? Just a few suggestions here and there, and few complaints, and a few updates. Nothing too interesting.

Well, I s'pose I should end this since I'm only wasting energy. Goodnight, patrons.

New Beginnings

Ah, the time has come to rethink my point of view on drugs. I have made many mistakes since my last post, and mistakes I know they are, but the hilarity in them, I just cannot pass up. I swear, I'll have to tell my children these stories. The first and foremost funnies one of them all: One night, a couple of friends and I got together and smoked a bowl of some stuff that, I cannot lie, was the best shit I've ever had. We were sitting out on the road, and they decided they wanted to go for a walk, so they were like, "C'mon!" Except, (and I'm sure all of you stoners know the feeling of never getting up again, the one when you get so fucking stoned that you can barely think straight) I just sat there. They walked a couple of feet, and stopped, turned around, and said, "Why aren't you moving?"

I said," I can't. The ground people are stuck to my butt, and if I stand up, they'll all fall off and die. Then, their angry, vengeful overlord will come and devour my soul for eight stale skittles. It won't end well." They finally got me up, and we were walking down the road, and all I could concentrate on was the street lamp, and I really did scream out, "MAN! THIS IS LIKE A FUCKING HAMSTER BALL! THE WORLD KEEPS ROLLING IN FRONT OF ME BUT I'M NOT GETTING ANYWHERE!" I need help, man. I can think of the best fucking metaphors when I've smoked weed.

Humour....

Have you ever been in love? Nah, I'm just kidding. I hate it when people talk about nothing but how much they love their significant other. We get the fucking point, man. No one cares how many times you banged your lovely girlfriend in the last hour. Jeez, get a fucking life, other than the inside of your lover's mouth. Goddamn. 

Oh, but off that topic.... Ever been stoned? It isn't worth it. It sucks, and you start thinking about the things you've done that you regret in your life.... Ahh, I'm rather sleepy, and I've found that I'm ranting.

G'night, dear patrons.

I Think...

...it's hilarious when people lash out for correcting them. I was having a nice conversation with my cousin when she spelled, 'call', 'kall'. I corrected her, and I s'pose it damaged her ego, because she cussed me out. For the sake of my schoolwork, I am a grammar nazi, and I can't stand it when people spell things wrong on purpose. I mean, I completely understand when people spell things like, 'text', 'txt', it's for the sake of preserving letter space, especially on a phone, but when people spell things like, 'hearts', 'heartz', I just want to beat them until they admit their mistake and correct it. I think it's a real sign of stupidity when the only "cool" thing they have to do is misspell words that I could type in my sleep.

Dreams...

I used to not dream at all... Now I can't stop. I dream about death, happiness, music, love....
The other night, I had a dream... I was an Otaku, or a gamer, and I played a video game for a couple of hours with this friend of mine. His mom called and bitched and he had to leave. The walls then morphed into a castle chamber. I was in a tower surrounded by clouds that you could walk on, and the friend was in the chamber with me. He told me that I had fallen morbidly ill, and that during my unconciousness, the castle was where I was to reside. It looked like a pretty sweet gig to me, so I didn't object, although I was a tad bit scared.
I s'pose I stayed unconcious for a couple of months, because I never left the castle. The friend showed me I could control the weather, by thinking of the weather pattern I wanted and then touching my right index finger to the cloud. The only catch was, if I didn't get off the cloud by the time that the weather pattern began, I would fall through the cloud and die.
It was pretty cool, and I enjoyed spending time with my friend, who never left my side. There was no hunger, and I had everything I needed in that one, spacey room.
Well, after the few months, my friend approached me with a serious look on his face and told me I had two options: one, I could go back down to the realm of the living, where I would still be sick, and be able to feel all of the pain that was in my body because I would be concious, or I could follow him into the sun and not have to feel hunger, sorrow, pain, or anything negative ever again.
I didn't know what to do. I guess by this time, I had fallen in love with the boy, and I didn't want to leave him, but I still wanted my family to be happy. I was sure they'd understand if I followed him out of love, but... I was scared. I didn't know what lay beyond the sun.... I tried to think of what it was and nothing came to mind... just black. I asked him if I could explain to my family the situation, and he told me that wasn't one of my options.
That's when I woke up. I still don't know whether I would've chosen to be in pain with my family or with my love for the rest of eternity....

It's Quite Amazing...

...how our thoughts are controlled by songs and music. We are bred to think like our parents, but somewhere along the line, music warps us. We become what society has shaped us into because of music. We explain ourselves with songs that have already been written. How... uninspired....
I find, that, if given the right amount of time, I can become quite... philosophical.
I was thinking, the other day, that if we hadn't seen and heard about other people's lives, we wouldn't complain about our own. My friend pointed out, though, that our lives that we never complain about could be horribly wrong. For instance, if someone had grown up being molested, but didn't realize it was wrong, they would come to look foward to it. It would become part of their daily routine. School and work are things we know is coming, and we've grown used to it. We may not like it, but we know we have to deal with it anyway... the same goes for the child that gets molested everyday because she doesn't know to go to anyone. Say, it was impertinant to complain about one's life.... Would one be frowned upon for trying to get away from said life?
People seem to pity those who don't quite meet the "good" standard. People who don't have brand name clothes, people who shop at Wal-mart, people who don't have much money. What does it take to be happy? I've often found it is not money, but the simple things, such as hanging out with friends, or being with animals, in my case. Playing a favorite instrument, listening to music (though I think I just contradicted myself), the small things that don't cost money.... Isn't that true happiness? Then again, who am I to say what happiness is?