Artists > Maria Mena > Fragile
I've been walking around all day,
Thinking.
I think I have a problem,
I think I think too much.
I've been taught to hold back my tears,
And avoid them.
But you make pain into something I could touch.
I've been walking around all day,
Laughing.
I think I'd be better off without you here.
And I bet you're sweet and hard to get over.
So I'll cry and people will stop and stare.
Now that's okay.
Let them stop and stare.
Cause I am fragile.
I am hopeless.
I'm not perfect.
But I am free.
I've been walking around all day,
Waiting.
And waiting is all I seem to do.
Cause I never get it unless I'm fed it.
But this time i'll just have to.
Yeah this time i'll just have to.
And I'm fragile.
I am hopeless.
I'm not perfect.
But I am free.
Say you're not around, Am I finished?
If you're not around, thats too bad.
Hope youre safe and sound,
not alone now.
Cause you know I believe in you.
Friday, August 10, 2007
Thursday, August 9, 2007
7.9.07
I’ve recently been treating myself to some fantastic books. I don’t know why I don’t read for myself more often. Oh, that’s right, school.
The past few weeks have been me taking time to do things for myself. Which believe me, is rare – I live my life to do what others want from me. But! I’ve been taking time for myself (rare) and doing what I want to do (even rarer). I can only hope this is a more mature stage of life for young Kyla. I’m almost 17! It’s time to act like I’ll be able to live, responsibly, by myself in a year. Make less stupid, immature decisions – my resolution. I guess I’m not following it that well though, since I’m still picking dumb fights with Adam.
Funny, how I’m both so happy for you and so jealous at the same time. And only half the time is it a possessive jealousy, the other half of the time is a whole other monster entirely. Do you know what I’m talking about? No. But does it matter? You can relate without even knowing where this is coming from.
Anyways, how ‘bout them books, eh? I read another Jodi Picoult book, Mercy. After 3 novels, I find she writes very formulaic-ly, not unlike – dare I make the comparison? – Nicholas Sparks. Then I read Oh the Glory of It All, which was vaguely reminiscent of Girl, Interrupted. Only set in San Francisco and with a male lead character. And now, for the greatest summer reading of all time – One Hundred Years of Solitude! No, just kidding. Seriously, no. Middlesex, by Jeffrey Eugenides is probably one of the most amazing books I’ve read. And I’m only half way through! Luxuriate in this quote, won’t you?
“Emotions, in my experience, aren’t covered by single words. I don’t believe in “sadness”, “joy”, or “regret”. Maybe the best proof that the language is patriarchal is that it oversimplifies feeling. I’d like to have at my disposal complicated hybrid emotions, Germanic train-car constructions like, say, “the happiness that attends disaster.” Or: “the disappointment of sleeping with one’s fantasy.” I’d like to show how “intimations of mortality brought on by aging family members” connects with “the hatred of mirrors that begins in middle age.” I’d like to have a word for “the sadness inspired by failing restaurants” as well as for “the excitement of getting a room with a minibar.” I’ve never had the right words to describe my life, and now that I’ve entered my story, I need them more than ever. You can’t just sit back and watch from a distance anymore. From here on in, everything I’ll tell you is colored by the subjective experience of being part of events. Here’s where my story splits, divides, undergoes meiosis. Already the world feels heavier, now I’m a part of it. I’m talking about bandages and sopped cotton, the smell of mildew in movie theaters, and of all the lousy cats and their stinking litter boxes, or rain on city streets when the dust comes up and the old Italian men take their folding chairs inside. Up until now it hasn’t been my world. Not my America. But here we are, at last.”
I am in love with his writing.
I just poured my heart out
The past few weeks have been me taking time to do things for myself. Which believe me, is rare – I live my life to do what others want from me. But! I’ve been taking time for myself (rare) and doing what I want to do (even rarer). I can only hope this is a more mature stage of life for young Kyla. I’m almost 17! It’s time to act like I’ll be able to live, responsibly, by myself in a year. Make less stupid, immature decisions – my resolution. I guess I’m not following it that well though, since I’m still picking dumb fights with Adam.
Funny, how I’m both so happy for you and so jealous at the same time. And only half the time is it a possessive jealousy, the other half of the time is a whole other monster entirely. Do you know what I’m talking about? No. But does it matter? You can relate without even knowing where this is coming from.
Anyways, how ‘bout them books, eh? I read another Jodi Picoult book, Mercy. After 3 novels, I find she writes very formulaic-ly, not unlike – dare I make the comparison? – Nicholas Sparks. Then I read Oh the Glory of It All, which was vaguely reminiscent of Girl, Interrupted. Only set in San Francisco and with a male lead character. And now, for the greatest summer reading of all time – One Hundred Years of Solitude! No, just kidding. Seriously, no. Middlesex, by Jeffrey Eugenides is probably one of the most amazing books I’ve read. And I’m only half way through! Luxuriate in this quote, won’t you?
“Emotions, in my experience, aren’t covered by single words. I don’t believe in “sadness”, “joy”, or “regret”. Maybe the best proof that the language is patriarchal is that it oversimplifies feeling. I’d like to have at my disposal complicated hybrid emotions, Germanic train-car constructions like, say, “the happiness that attends disaster.” Or: “the disappointment of sleeping with one’s fantasy.” I’d like to show how “intimations of mortality brought on by aging family members” connects with “the hatred of mirrors that begins in middle age.” I’d like to have a word for “the sadness inspired by failing restaurants” as well as for “the excitement of getting a room with a minibar.” I’ve never had the right words to describe my life, and now that I’ve entered my story, I need them more than ever. You can’t just sit back and watch from a distance anymore. From here on in, everything I’ll tell you is colored by the subjective experience of being part of events. Here’s where my story splits, divides, undergoes meiosis. Already the world feels heavier, now I’m a part of it. I’m talking about bandages and sopped cotton, the smell of mildew in movie theaters, and of all the lousy cats and their stinking litter boxes, or rain on city streets when the dust comes up and the old Italian men take their folding chairs inside. Up until now it hasn’t been my world. Not my America. But here we are, at last.”
I am in love with his writing.
I just poured my heart out
there's bits of it on the floor
And I take what's left of it
and rinse it under cold water
And call him up for more
And I say baby, yes I feel stupid to call you,
but I'm lonely
but I'm lonely
And I don't think you meant it
when you said you couldn't love me
when you said you couldn't love me
And I thought maybe if I kissed the way you do,
you'd feel it too
you'd feel it too
He said I'm sorry
so sorry
He grabs my wrist
as my fingers turn into angry fists
and I whisper why can't you love me,
I'll change for you
I'll change for you
I'll play the part
Sunday, July 29, 2007
7.29.07
Why am I so annoyed?
Yes, I’m probably the most stubborn person you’ll meet, but I’m not going to take the blame for something that’s half your fault also. That just gets us no where fast.
Yes, I’m probably the most stubborn person you’ll meet, but I’m not going to take the blame for something that’s half your fault also. That just gets us no where fast.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Friday, July 20, 2007
7.20.07
Call a parade!
...I made a decision for the first time in my life. Hurrah!
I just hope it was the right one.
...I made a decision for the first time in my life. Hurrah!
I just hope it was the right one.
Friday, July 13, 2007
7.13.07
Hello Friends.
Remember me? Kyla? No, not Kayla Mining, Kyla Minnig…yes, that’s right, the one who likes the cats! Very good.
I guess I might as well get into it.
I have nothing to say. And I HAVE had nothing to say since summer started, more or less. This happens, every single summer, like clockwork. Since I don’t see everyone every day of my life, I get into my head, and stay firmly planted there. Not like there’s anything interesting going on in my life that I need to constantly ponder, but I just…am being incredibly solitary. I’m trying to be more social this summer, really. Going to Circus School helped facilitate long conversations with Best Friend and Dark Hell Lord Krotodrid. We will be spared when werewolves take over the earth because we told him how to pronounce proprietorship. But anyways.
I laugh uproariously, nay, chuckle inwardly, at what a hypocrite I am. All day long I spew my thoughts and advice on to uninterested ears. Were I myself in my situation, erm, reread that, it’ll make sense on the second try, I would say something along the lines of:
Look at history, you moron! Because nothing has changed, that’s for sure. How is this acceptable? I don’t expect anything better from him, but I expected much more from you, you pushover.
And I would say:
But I believe in the good in people, sometimes you have to take a risk to get something you want.
And in return:
That? You want that? Are you an idiot? Ah yes, drunkenly screwing around with other girls, only to recount his stories of glory to you the next day, what girl wouldn’t want that? Silly me, to have forgotten those traits of Prince Charming.
But for a rebuttal:
Everyone makes mistakes, sometimes people need another chance to prove they can do things right.
…fighting ensues, etc. I am bipolar, but only when I want to be. Because that makes sense.
I cannot make up my mind, just like with every other situation that’s ever presented itself in my vacillating life. Thus, he will decide for us, and I will accept it willingly, even if I don’t believe it, because that’s what I get for never making up my mind.
I am a sorry excuse for a homo sapien, me thinks. And a waste of a brain. Perhaps I shall give it to a lab monkey.
This has been a post full of nonsense.
Coming full circle, I have started listening to acoustic music, in keeping with the whole “not talking” theme. It was amazing, I told Adam what I was looking for, and he provided! Perhaps he is the music god, but he’s still fussy like a baby, and quite tense.
Check out Andy McKee. You don’t actually have to watch, but at least listen!
http://youtube.com/watch?v=Ddn4MGaS3N4
Remember me? Kyla? No, not Kayla Mining, Kyla Minnig…yes, that’s right, the one who likes the cats! Very good.
I guess I might as well get into it.
I have nothing to say. And I HAVE had nothing to say since summer started, more or less. This happens, every single summer, like clockwork. Since I don’t see everyone every day of my life, I get into my head, and stay firmly planted there. Not like there’s anything interesting going on in my life that I need to constantly ponder, but I just…am being incredibly solitary. I’m trying to be more social this summer, really. Going to Circus School helped facilitate long conversations with Best Friend and Dark Hell Lord Krotodrid. We will be spared when werewolves take over the earth because we told him how to pronounce proprietorship. But anyways.
I laugh uproariously, nay, chuckle inwardly, at what a hypocrite I am. All day long I spew my thoughts and advice on to uninterested ears. Were I myself in my situation, erm, reread that, it’ll make sense on the second try, I would say something along the lines of:
Look at history, you moron! Because nothing has changed, that’s for sure. How is this acceptable? I don’t expect anything better from him, but I expected much more from you, you pushover.
And I would say:
But I believe in the good in people, sometimes you have to take a risk to get something you want.
And in return:
That? You want that? Are you an idiot? Ah yes, drunkenly screwing around with other girls, only to recount his stories of glory to you the next day, what girl wouldn’t want that? Silly me, to have forgotten those traits of Prince Charming.
But for a rebuttal:
Everyone makes mistakes, sometimes people need another chance to prove they can do things right.
…fighting ensues, etc. I am bipolar, but only when I want to be. Because that makes sense.
I cannot make up my mind, just like with every other situation that’s ever presented itself in my vacillating life. Thus, he will decide for us, and I will accept it willingly, even if I don’t believe it, because that’s what I get for never making up my mind.
I am a sorry excuse for a homo sapien, me thinks. And a waste of a brain. Perhaps I shall give it to a lab monkey.
This has been a post full of nonsense.
Coming full circle, I have started listening to acoustic music, in keeping with the whole “not talking” theme. It was amazing, I told Adam what I was looking for, and he provided! Perhaps he is the music god, but he’s still fussy like a baby, and quite tense.
Check out Andy McKee. You don’t actually have to watch, but at least listen!
http://youtube.com/watch?v=Ddn4MGaS3N4
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
7.4.07
Happy 231st Birthday, USA!
As per Adam sending me this song, I thought I'd post the lyrics. Very cool, if you ask me. Enjoy?
As per Adam sending me this song, I thought I'd post the lyrics. Very cool, if you ask me. Enjoy?
Artists > Cursive > Excerpts From Various Notes Strewn Around The Bedroom Of April Connolly
Excerpts from various notes strewn around the bedroom of April Connolly:"Why I should leave . . . no - why I'm leaving you for him. Well, let's see here . . . well, let's see: where should I begin? Every night you get annihilated with all your friends,and every night I drink alone until you stumble home wanting some - like some fuck and run. I know you sleep around, I see it in the eyes of those girls. Those fucking girls . . . they smile and nod, but never offer a single word - I'm just in the way - I'm the ball and chain, you're the jailbird chirping, 'How hard life is in the cage!' How hard it is waking up next to me. Well, you've dug this hole, come on and fill me up. When you said you loved me, I knew I was getting fucked. You said you'd never let go - all that stopped . . . you used to turn me on, now we're just getting off. That's why I am leaving you."
And the drunken, erratic response from April's ex-boyfriend Trevor Post upon finding said various notes:"You really, really think this guy is going to make it all right? You told me you could never be in love with another man, 'Oh but this one is it!' But I remember when we met, we knew that this was the end. Yeah I remember - I remember everything - The haircuts, the dollar movies. We used to sneak a six pack in your bag, and wait for a girl to scream or a car to crash so we could crack open our cans. Or the the time you shaved my head in the front yard; a passerby stopped to take a picture - we ended up in the paper. And now you want to leave? Well, maybe I forgot a couple things, it doesn't mean I don't remember how it feels when you're laying naked next to me. Valentine, I want to feel your hips pressed up against mine. We'll push into each other - love's alive. It might be fleeting, but it's ours and it's tonight . . . so won't you reconsider love-lost lives? You might be lonely, but I'm still by your side. You might have to leave, but not tonight."
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