Your life is like a spaceship with no recognizable components, no rivets or bolts, no entry points, now way to take it apart. It is very shiny and it has no discernible flaws. Or you could somehow smash it into smaller pieces, there would certainly be no way to put it back together again. It simply is.

At no time while living are you unaware that you live a life of complete obsession, of a stretching of the mind and body of a yourself to the point of, we assume, near madness.

But you are a different sort of madman., one in full control of your tools, one who instead of teetering on the edge of this precipice or that, seems to be heading ever-inward, into the depths of memory and the relentless conjuring of a certain time and place that evokes utmost order despite its mayhem.

It's complicated, but there are pleasures everywhere, but there is also a very quiet but very sturdy and constant tragic undercurrent that concerns a people who are completely lost and only want some sort of direction or purpose or sense of community, because who would live if not for a want of connection and thus of love?

Flopper.

I ordered a 1920s flapper dress.

They sent an extra large.

I ordered a small.

We called the company.

They said they were sending the right size.

The box just came.

But they didn't put a dress in the box.

The party is tonight.

I think I might cry.

A Recent Death in my Life

There is something strangely liberating about throwing a pair of shoes away.
There is also something strangely tragic.

Five Stages of Grief:
DENIAL- Honestly, I didn't believe my toes had worked they way out of my sides of my shoes. Those brown, patent leather flats were my absolute favorite, and I am still having a hard time imagining my fashion world without these gems. "This isn't happening. Not now. Not ever. Please. Just let this be a nightmare."

ANGER- The shoes were near and dear to my heart, and my friend are well aware of this. It infuriates me to see my feet peeking out of the sides of my sole. "Who makes shoes like this!? Where is the quality?"

BARGAINING- "If you just wait and break once I find another similar pair of you, shoes, I promise I'll give you a proper burial. Just hold out until I go home soon. You can do it. Come on. It's okay."

DEPRESSION- Having breakdowns in class is not uncommon at this school, so it wasn't all that strange for me to shed a few tears in my Government class. "How could this happen to me? The love of my feet are gone. There is no way of getting another pair of these shoes. WHY did this have to happen now?"

ACCEPTANCE- And just like that. After all of the emotional turmoil, I felt better. I got over it. I moved on. Put the shoes in the trash. And moved on. "Rest in peace, little brown flats."


MIA Brown Patent Leather Pointed Toe Flats: March 17, 2008-August 28, 2009.

Monster Running

It's a known fact that stairwells are made up of concrete and echos. I had to point this out to a friend who nearly ran me over one morning. He said something to someone, made them mad, started running away, and was terrified because he was being chased. By his own footsteps.

Poor thing.

Third Floor Dash

For the entirety of my junior year, I lived on the sixth floor of my dorm. When it comes to female residency, this is as far from the ground as I can get, and I more or less hated it. I had little to no friends near me, and when it comes to being late for class, I had virtually no time to get from my bed to the classroom.

By no means am I saying that I am always late, it's just that now that I'm on the third floor, life is a whole lot easier.

I'm writing songs.

Mississippi School of Death

First thing in the morning, I get on the bus to go to Trig. (I've never taken the bus before. I'm afraid.) This will kill me. From there, I get back on the bus, return to campus, and go to AP Music Theory. This will beat the dead horse. In Government, we will finish the 25 chapter book. That, dear readers, will put me in my grave. From there, I take to online classes at the same time. These two lovely boogers have no problem with spitting on my grave. And lastly, choir: the class full of 39 loud and opinionated divas, will "sing me to heaven."

What might possibly be my favorite part of Art Boarding School is the spontaneity. I receive a text message saying "Come down" from Madee, and despite it being very vague, I figure out there is a guitar jam session going on. So, being the talented guitar star that I am, I grab my Taylor and hit the stairs. Of course I'm nowhere near as talented as the other guys playing, but I sure did enjoy myself. I suppose it was nice bonding time for all of us.

Scheduling

I have fifteen minutes to make a blog, edit it, and get it up.

There's a poster of Kim Kardashian in my bathroom. It's a total joke. I don't know if my suitemates understand that.

I'm signed up for AP Music Theory. Do you understand how insane that is?

Schedule for tomorrow:

Principal's session

Why Art? Seminar

Break

Why Art? II Seminar

Vocal Hooplah.

Tuesday:

Plagiarism Seminar

Technology Seminar

Ettiquette/Professionalism Seminar

Schedule Changes Seminar

I love all of this business business.

The Farmer's Dog

As a form of mandated fun, the entire senior class was called to the cafeteria for a lovely game of BINGO. Now, I, of all people, am an avid fan of BINGO. I know there is no B-24. I know that "Four Corners" will only be counted in the bonus rounds. I know you must announce "BINGO!!!" loud enough to stop the caller from proceeding with the game. It's an exciting game, and I'm always in it to win it. (I refuse to let my nursing home pals down.)

When playing a game with about 60 other people, chances are you won't win much, if at all. But that didn't stop me. I was hunched over my card, ready to win. However, my time never came. I was close. Extremely close. One number away from a double bingo. But fate just didn't have it in for me. And I can accept that.

Sleep deprivation at its finest has finally hit me. I have forgotten the point of this entry. I promise I'll improve. I'm still a little rusty.