A moment in the life...

I'm standing by the open window in my room listening to the drone of air conditioners and traffic around me as I stare out into the approaching clouds. It's almost night time, and heat lightning, as they call it, flickers like bothersome camera flashes in the distant storm. Every once in a while a breeze will leak in through the screen and push the strands of hair from my cheeks. It's not a cold or a warm breeze, it's absolutely perfect, and it reminds me of someone.

I've got a candle lit, a single candle, as if I'm preserving energy or even a mood. The flashing light in the clouds keeps my eyes staring into nothing, and with my eyes busy, my mind has the chance to trail off... I'm reminded of someone again.

The smoke from the now extinguished candle makes my eyes burn a little, and they start to water. Not a purposeful water, just enough to keep my vision clear so my head stays the same way. But another breeze hits my cheeks and pushes a tear drop out of it's home... I'm still thinking about them...

I guess some things you really can't escape. :)

[no subject]

I know it's been too long when the simple gentle press of a knee to my side sparks an inferno of barely identifiable emotions. And from someone I hardly know, much less someone I'm intensely attracted to.

I don't want to turn into that animal that's always the latest feature of the new cougar-themed show on ABC. I've always been deeper than a body, and I hate to think I'm losing that to the world.

The further I lose myself in studies and friends, the easier the need for love and acceptance is to suppress. But once you taste it, you want to dive right in all over again. It's a shame too, thinking Love is broken but at the same time knowing that you're the only mechanic.

I guess only time can tell.

Another post? Christ.

The popularity of my sentences makes me wish I had some sort of private diary to fold my life neatly into. But where would I get gratification if I didn't share my futile struggles with the rest of humanity?

I always seem to write fleetingly about some indescribable feeling. Similar to when a comedian tells a knockout joke that you know you can relate to, you just can't quite put your finger on why you've never thought of it before. I wouldn't say that's my intention, but it feels damn good to think I'm treading on intellectual ground.

With my life all patched and audited, I can take a step back and observe what's going on. I have love interests, and whether or not I lie to myself and pursue them is entirely dependent on... Well, what is it dependent on?

Oh sure, if I wanted to be a corny motherfucker, I could sit down and construct one of those pros and cons lists, but at the end of the possible relationship I'm saying "I told you so." Which is why I avoid those things like the plague.

Really, I don't know. I'm glad that things have been laid out for me on a platter this time around. I see with clarity now, not the hazed-over beer goggles of love.

User input required!

I already know the answer to the question I pose, but have you ever laid your head down at night and noticed that the person you most readily think about before dreaming is someone you desire? Sure, reading this makes it seem obvious, as it's the very thing of fairy tales and Warner Bros flicks. But really, have you ever noticed who you think about before sleep?

It's always someone important. Someone important doing something memorable. 'Could be someone you love, someone you want to love, someone you no longer love, cheesy-etc cheesy-etc...

So tell me honestly, who did you think of before going to bed last night? Who was the last person to grace your thoughts before you slipped into dreams? I recommend posting anonymously if you plan on being honest. :P

Yo Mika!

Lollipop is the perfect theme tune for this blog! It hits pretty much every point I'm gonna try to make. :P

Love's really gonna get'cha down. So let it go! ^.^; But seriously. I bet you've read on my Facebook that "Amber is cutting the last few threads of a tattered relationship." And it's true. But that doesn't mean I'm angry, it doesn't mean that I'm vengeful or even interested in someone new. It means that I'm finally detaching from what it'd mean to get hurt. It hurts to think I have to hide in the shadows about anything. I'd rather blatantly lie or be completely honest.

This movement wasn't brought on by what you think. Really. Friends like Nate and Reynolds, friends who hardly know the story of my life, are here for me. So why would I waste my time in the dumps over it when they have the kindness to be here for me. This is beginning to sound like a shout-out blog...

Another topic in the song Lollipop is what 'Momma' tells you. That's huge. All my life good 'ol Mom's told me that men aren't worth it. And while that was cryptic to me at the age I learned it, I'm glad I learned it. I understand the issues she had with trust and the problem she had with depending on someone. It's important to be able to stand on your own feet before you go looking for someone else. Maybe I didn't quite grasp the 'men aren't worth it' message, but I got the idea. :P

Another one of my favorite things is loving from a distance. It's a bit of a creeper thing to do if you get obsessed, but if you don't, you have that butterflies feeling in your gut just like you always had over Him or Her in high school. That's a good feeling to have...

If she loves you, let her go! Cause love only gets you down.

Hopeful Serenity

I honestly can't say which one hurts more- losing you, or losing you again...

I'd go to the end of the world and back to bring you a smile from my journeys. That's never been untrue. Whatever fleeting feelings I experienced were brought on by wandering minds and bad spirits, but that doesn't mean no one's to blame.

Everything you've ever said about me was right. I care too much. I let my strong will to help others overshadow what I think and what I believe in, and even algebra will tell you the resultant is change. I didn't want to. Christ, if I could go back, nothing would have changed. Never would I have even spoken to him, and never would I have taken for granted a single moment I could have been in your arms... Happy... With you...

I made many mistakes, and you made none. I guess in the world's cruel sense of justice, I'm getting what I deserve. But I can only hope your current feelings are fleeting too. Because I'd give anything to be caught up in your breathing while you sleep, unmoving, under the story of stars written just for you and I.

This is...

This is going to be one of those posts about knowing your place it the world. It's likely going to be lengthy, so if you're not up for the intellectual mopings of someone with negative self esteem, bail out now.

All my life, shit, as far back as elementary school I've been a freak. I've been nothing but an outcast that everybody talks shit on. Like that retarded kid who tries to be in your group of friends, but as soon as he's left the vicinity, everyone's making fun of him. You keep people like that around to make you feel better, or because you take pity on them. Or maybe, just maybe, what little they bring to the table is worth keeping them around. You know, like that time he paid for pizza...

I've never fit in anywhere. Not once in my whole life. I've always been the butt of jokes or the girl that people stare at in the halls and just ask questions to themselves about. "Why does she wear all black?" or "Why isn't her hair a normal color?" or even "Why can't anyone just have a normal conversation with her?".

I never had a single friend in elementary school, so I was a mommy's girl. I didn't understand how jaded everyone around me already was because my positive outlook and naive hope for humanity blotted out the dark even at age 10. I started to open my eyes and see that people thought I was an idiot in middle school.

I didn't have a single friend there until I met Susan. Someone who, like me, wasn't afraid to hope for a little light in people. Someone who wasn't afraid to be different and answer those unasked questions in others. She understood the pain of uniqueness and had overcome beautifully. Shit, to this day I still look up to her.

She carried me into high school, where I continued to be a fucking freak. It wasn't until senior year, after being battered for the first eleven, that I started to give in. Hair was normal blonde color, clothes were average just to blend in. I didn't carry anything abnormal and IF I had a conversation with anyone, it was boring, average, and unmemorable.

I thought that all changed when I came to college. I thought I could break free of the world of judgements and finally be amongst people just like me who would appreciate my cunning wit, my daring fashion sense, and my off-center interests. And I was right for a while. Of course there was the occasional prick who would bust me for having red hair or sporting any Tripp gear, but I was so high and mighty that it didn't affect me. And I've been pretty fucking mighty since then...

But it's hard to turn the other way and pretend someone you trust ISN'T thinking of you as useless.

For the longest time, I thought being a RA was a power. I thought that having that master key made you someone to look up to, someone to trust, someone to believe in and someone who you could rely on. And for the longest time I've tried to live up to that. I've tried to be everything.

I've been the event coordinator, working through events and taking the blame for something falling through. I've been the party buster, where students learn their lesson and gain a new respect for following the rules. I've been the counselor LOTS of times, where anyone can come to me with their problems and expect an understanding shoulder to cry on. I've been the role model, the person that someone sees doing positive things and swears away their demons to strive for greatness. I've been the professional, the slick-suited representative of DeVry giving an old school a newfangled name. I've been the girlfriend, who does her man's laundry and keeps his apartment clean while he stresses himself with work, and when he comes home, is there to make him happy still. And I've been the friend, the one you can rely on to be there whenever you need them, through thick and thin, unmoved and unchanging.

Despite what I've been, I'll always remain the outcast. It doesn't matter how responsible, mature, trusting, kind, understanding, optimistic, caring, giving, strong, respectable or even PERFECT you may be... Once an outcast, always an outcast.

This is one of those posts about knowing your place in the world as a piece of shit. And how badly it smells while you're shining at the bottom.

Come What May...

Never knew... I could feel like this.
It's like I've never seen the sky before.
Want to vanish inside your kiss.
Every day I'm loving you more and more.

Listen to my heart, can you hear it sing?
Come back to me, and forgive everything!
Seasons may change, Winter to Spring.
But I love you... 'Til the end of time.

I know I'm still sticking to it...

Come What May...

I'm done.

I'm done putting on a face. I'm done faking it, forcing it and lying to myself.

Hate me. Cause I'm fucking normal.

The monologue of my life would be angry...

And would probably be in German.

It seems that even in the places that I started finding comfort ages ago, I can't be honest with myself or others. That's the kind of shit that makes people want to get up and start over in some foreign state or country...

In other news, I'm in love with Scott Cohen.

That's all.

I'm on it.

In 5 minutes, I'll receive a text message 10-minute warning from 48368, a.k.a. Google Calendar, saying I've got a RA meeting on Monday may 5th from 8 to 9pm to attend.
45 minutes after that, I'll get another text from the same number reminding me of the DHC meeting tonight. Upon completion of both the RA meeting and DHC meeting, I'll feel ignored and overworked, likely with a figurative pile of work to complete over the next couple days.

I'll come back to my apartment where Laura will be with Joe watching an anime on her laptop and I'll propose ordering from Apollo, even though I'm not hungry. We'll probably watch Kill Bill until the food gets here. Once the movie's over, Laura will say she has to get up early tomorrow and head to bed, Joe will leave soon following.

I'll surely get a text from Ryan about going on a walk tonight, which I may or may not consider. Odds are, I'll feel sleepy and be reminded of how overworked feels and call off the walk. I'll probably wear the black striped pajama pants to bed tonight, and I won't actually get to sleep until much later because of texts received from TJ and Alex Bodt.


Some days, I feel completely on top of the world.

Ah, there goes my phone.