Saturday, July 30, 2011

I wrote again!


Chapter One
The Continental Train

The air is soggy heat and nothing more. It hangs like a blanket. I sit on a damp bench and wonder if I look mysterious, waiting for a train by myself, a lonely midnight passenger in a gleaming, thrilling night. I like to think sometimes that I am a mysterious person, who people see and then see in their dreams without remembering that they knew me.

It is hard to describe the type of night it is. It is the night where you catch sight of an old brick building which you have seen a million times before, but now it is in the rain and there are lights around it and it looks like somewhere else, a city you have never seen. It is the feeling of somewhere else, crushing and lonely and wild. It’s not really raining; it is the moment between waking and sleep, when you’re not really sleeping or waking, but being aware. It is raining, but the rain stops falling as soon as I look at it.

The train pulls into the station as if it had always been there and I had not noticed. Nobody gets off, because there is only one place anyone ever goes when they board the Continental Train, and it is impossibly distant and vast and meaningless, a light from far away which you see through rain, which is burning in sad splendor on a lonely pier. That is the destination of the Continental Train. This is just a long, dark road in the night where people drive and wonder where they’re going. I remember standing up and boarding the train and sitting in my car, an almost empty car of an almost empty train, and I don’t remember much else. I don’t know if I think at all.

There are no windows in this car because it is coach, but only plastic indents where windows should be, as if to remind us of what we are missing. I do not want windows because I have never wanted windows, and when I have been given windows against my will, I am only filled with longing for the things I didn’t want to see. Through windows are worlds we cannot touch. I do not want to see them.

There are two others in the car who look at me and who seem like a dream. I am never alone when I flit like a bird from one place to another, even though I desperately want to be. There always must be someone.

They sit together and they both have brown eyes, but one pair is restless and dreamy and the other is careful and observant. One pair is young and wide and wears a pale head with a crown of silver-blond threads upon its head, and the other is tired and ancient, and sits in a garden of glimmery thin brown vines. They both look like ghosts to me, lonely strangers in an endless night, and I think that they are more beautiful than people can be.

I am so lonely.

The train pulls away from the station slowly, waiting for people who will never come. Maybe it will never leave the station at all, but wait forever for those missing passengers, trapped souls who have lost their tickets or who are kept behind by old lovers, sad friends. Maybe it has always been there, waiting for its lost souls, and I have just now boarded for myself. Maybe I am the last passenger it waited so dutifully for, and now it can pull away from the restless city and the empty night and fly into the shining light of beyond this world.

I close my eyes with feather lightness against the utter grayness of the car, and feel the breaking hearts of the passengers who never came as the train sidles up its lonely track and into the brilliant lostness of the night. We are in the air and supported by a thin metal beam which I have always thought is made out of bones. The air of the car is still and cold.

When I open my eyes next, the two others souls, who I think must be sisters, are leaned against each other and are caught by a restless sleep, dreams with threaten to take them from this world forever; they are only kept together by their gentle grip of each other. I watch them for a moment before falling into my own torrid dreaming, with no one there to keep me to myself.

Thursday, July 28, 2011


It's almost like I have a life. I have done things! With people! I feel busy, like I'm not slowly letting the best(?) years of my life pass me by in a haze of insignificance. I should go hang-gliding and write a book and tell the boy I like him. Or I could spend my days listlessly floating in a dream-like state, unaware or refusing to admit that brief moments of happiness and activity don't make up for all the things I haven't done.

Oh. Where did that come from? Anyway, on Tuesday I cleaned my terrible, terrible house, and yesterday I had Shari over! People rarely come to my house, especially Shari, so this was an excitement. We expressed concern over my--possibly dead--snail, played Mariokart, went for a walk (it was so unbelievably nice outside--but not after we walked in the sun for half an hour). Then we went to the mall and somehow every skirt I tried on looked AWFUL on me, but I did get this fantastic blue tank top and a set of earrings!

We came back, played more Mariokart, ate dinner, and then went upstairs and shamelessly talked about people in the eighth grade yearbook. Also, we became concerned over my lack of clothing. I always thought I wore the same clothes all the time because I was lazy and didn't pay attention to what I wore, but apparently it's because I really don't have that many clothes. Later, after Shari left, I made a list of all the outfits I could make out of the clothes I had. Unfortunately, there are two problems:
  1. I'm not going to wear dresses every day, especially in the winter.
  2. I'm not going to wear skirts every day, especially in the winter.
This basically puts me back at square one, which is: about three/four shirts which I wear a lot and five/six which I wear commonly, a deficiency in jeans, and a bunch of shirts which I no longer like. My parents have given me part of the allowance they owe me, but I still don't have nearly enough to actually flesh out my wardrobe.

Essentially the point of the entire above section was that I want to go to the mall again :) If only my friends ever read my blog anymore!

Oh! Back to Shari. Eventually we drove her home, but a good time was had by all. I liked the part where we shamelessly gossipped about people we did/didn't like. We're just good people, deep down :D No, I kid! We also talked about clothes.

Today, I took my possibly dead snail along with us on errands so we could go by Petsmart, and less than fifteen minutes into the trip he suddenly starts moving around and being normal. So, well, great. Apparently, to test if a snail is alive or not, one must try to pry open the "door" they put against the opening of their shells. If they continually keep it shut, they're alive. If the snail comes out and smells bad, it's dead. I do not want to do this, ever. Hopefully Eddie will stop being weird and acting dead. We got him algae tablets!

After we were finished with errands, I invited Vera and sisters over and we played (yet more) Mariokart and ogled over my fish/cats. Then we biked to this kind-of-nearby park, and there were these three adorable children there who we played tag with :) When we got back, we hung around for an hour, and when I went home I had to take my second shower of the day since we were going out to dinner. I think I'm abusing my hair.

Speaking of hair, I once again have the urge to do something different with it. Don't get me wrong, I really like my hair. I like the color, I like the length, I like the way it falls, and it hasn't gotten shaggy enough to warrant a huge haircut (although it's getting there). But...I don't know. I've gone on-and-off about actually getting bangs for years now. I keep talking about getting a different style but usually they do the same thing: hack it off to above my shoulders and add layers. If I got a haircut now and hated it, I think it would grow back to normal in time for school, so what's stopping me? You know what, I think I will. I will get bangs. Gosh, I'm adventerous.

In yet further news, I have lost all urge to write. It's not simply writer's block (which I had severely before this); I just don't feel like writing anything at all. I haven't even looked at a story in pretty much a week, and while I go through these spells almost often, it never fails to bum me out. I guess I have a fear that I'll never want to write again and then I'll end up working at McDonald's since I'm not really good at anything else. Usually it goes away after a week or two, though.

I just swatted a fly on the screen and there are bug guts on it, now. Lovely.

I'm almost entirely sure that I had something else to say. Hm.

My mouse has gone from double-clicking everything to not wanting to click at all. Either way it's terribly annoying.

I suppose I should end here. Good night! Sorrow, and all that. Yes...I should say I'm going to bed, but really I'm going to stay up online browsing for at least another half hour. My, my.

Monday, July 25, 2011

Now I feel shallow.

Hey! It totally hasn't been five days; don't be ridiculous. You know, I probably would've forgotten to blog today if it hadn't been for my handy to-do list (which I made last night), on which I accomplished two items so far.

SO. Sleepover with Kim! We played Super Mario Bros. for a significant amount of time, haha :) We also saw Captain America with Leo and Jon, and it's probably my favorite comic-book based movie so far. I thought they didn't explain the ending properly, but hey, that's just me--otherwise it was pretty solid. After the movie we got ice cream at Friendly's, which was delish, of course :D

Kim and I also played video games, painted nails, played Candyland, and, as always, played Jojo's Fashion Show--it's a hallowed tradition. Actually, now that I think about it, we didn't do much else. But we stayed up till four in the morning! We are both masters of making nothing last a really long time, apparently. But still, it was fun! And it's the first outisde activity I've done in weeks, as long as you don't count my short-lived bout of athleticism, which I don't.

In other news, I've bought another snail! And I'm pretty sure he's not dead yet! Unfortunately, he's been on his side not moving for hours. When my mom picked him up to put him upright, though, he retreated into his shell, so I geuss he's still alive. I have named him Eddie, which may or may not be the name of the last snail I had.

Also, I have officially become excited for back-to-school clothes shopping again! I suppose this isn't a good thing, since I'm broke as hell. Technically speaking, if I get my parents to hold off my payments on my phone (which I still do not have, because Great Adventure is a flying butthole) and they give me the six weeks of allowance I have not recieved, I'll only need two/three more weeks to have enough money to actually get the clothes! The chances of this all happening and the clothes all still being there is slim, but I can hope :)

Part of me is ashamed to be concerned with clothes and money when there are starving children in the world. Hmm.

I'm sure I had significantly more profound things to say, but now I don't remember them. My birthday is in a month! It will be a marvelous day, I'm sure.

You know, birthdays remind me of presents. Presents remind me of things I want. Things I want include: a school bag which does not make me sad, and a jacket. The backpacks I usually get don't make me sad, I just feel like something cooler. That's not important, though. I really want a jacket. I haven't owned a jacket in years, always just hoodies and puffy winter coats. I will take any type of jacket: trench coat, biker jacket; a freaking sailor jacket. But you know what's consistent between all of those? They are all expensive, or at the very least beyond my current monetary capabilities. Meh.

Now I feel shallow for talking about clothes I want, and money and stuff.

I wrote all of the above hours ago, and then I went to Barnes and Noble and read The Great Gatsby. I'm looking forward to going over it in school because I feel like I'm missing something from it, honestly. I've never been good at literary analysis...

Well. Good night!

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Axes from the sky.


Yesterday, after consuming my typical lunch of a hot pocket and a glass of soda, I felt the twinges of a health kick coming on. My "health kicks" are usually short (several hours to a day or two, at best) and minimally effective, but yesterday, I happened to be talking to Kim while it happened. Kim, being of a hardier (and less wimpy) breed than I, has occupied her summer days with track club, which she then persuaded me to join for the day. I, in a fit of insanity, agreed. Why do I do these things to myself?

Anyway, I went to her house first and we walked there. It was muggy and hot. That is all there is to say about that. When we got there we ran a lap, which was bad enough in gym when I was used to it, and was now, after weeks of lumpiness, brutal. Then we did stretches and running exercises, which weren't so bad, except it was so hot and so muggy that I was literally dripping sweat. Then we did this monstrous thing where we all ran in a line and the person at the end of the line ran up to the front, and then when that person reached the front, the person now at the end of the line ran to the front, and so on. For two laps. I am far, far too wimpy to do this.

Luckily that was the end of the meet--it was cut short due to weather. When my mom picked me up, she rewarded me with a giant thing of Mountain Dew X) You know, it's almost like I'm not even lumpy! Almost...

In other news, I am getting more and more excited for The Hunger Games movie. Here is what I had to say about it to Kim:

You know what? I think it's going to be AWESOME. And if it's not, I will find the director in his home and make him participate in a hunger games where the only other participant is a giant man-eating robot which shoots fire.
And Kim made her own lovely edition:

HAHAHA. And if he somehow defeats this robot, then axes will rain down from the sky. Axes and nothing else.
Who else is excited for it?

In other, final (since I'm supposed to be going to bed now) news, I have come up with a new story, and it makes me very happy. It's about zombies! Well, it's about other things, but it's set in the zombie apocalypse! I've never actually written a story set in the zombie apocalypse. I really do like it, though. When I have more time, I'll describe the plot in detail :D

Monday, July 18, 2011

They hosed you down, you're good as new.

Does anyone remember in Harry Potter 7, the scene when Harry and Hermione danced in the tent? I have the song that played during that scene on my iPod now :D It honestly makes me sad. It makes me feel like I'm remembering something sad, you know? Anyway, I guess, if anyone doesn't know and wants to listen to it somewhere, the song is O Children by Nick Cave. I'm too lazy to find it on YouTube, sorry :D

I admit, I'm kind of disappointed that only one person commented on my last blog. It was important to me. Well, the part about writing was important to me--I don't know, I felt like I had finally given a voice to something I didn't know how to express before, and no one responds? It's okay, though. I'm not one of those people who beg for comments. At least I got one, right? :)

WELL. How have I been keeping myself, you ask? Today I hung out with Vera, the only person I ever hang out with anymore. We hung around then went to the library, then got pizza with her family, and then came back home where I trounced her and her sister at MarioKart. We then played online games for a brief time until her laptop started imploding, then played Stratego and ate pizza, which was going very well in my favor (the game, not the pizza, although the pizza was quite nice) until my parents called me home to eat dinner and stuff. Yesterday, I helped her make her first Facebook account! So, I suppose that's been adventurous.

As for anything else, well, I'm as lumpy as ever. But next week, I'm having a sleepover at Kim's! Fun!

Friday, July 15, 2011

Out of the blue! (Also, 700th post!)

In my defense, for most of the past week, I didn't have Internet, and yesterday I had nothing to say. No longer!
I watched Harry Potter today (you know which one), and AHHHHUBDCGHYDJGDSQUEEVBGCFNXYDU. Spoiler alert (as if anyone who reads this hasn't already read the book or seen it already): I started crying when Fred died, renewed my tears when Snape found Lily's body, and then kept it up until King's Cross, with an interlude of near-sobbing when Harry used the resurrection stone. Sad sad sad. Hermione and Ron's kiss was fantastic. Now I have the urge to reread all of the Harry Potter books, because, I mean, seriously: they're brilliant. The world, the characters, it's all just brilliant. It's a world that everyone knows and anyone can feel like they have a place in it, you know? Like J. K. Rowling said: Hogwarts will always be there to welcome you home.

As for other things (yes, surprisingly, there are other things in the world), this is my 700th post! I suppose I should make a speech about how lovely you all are (as if you didn't already know) and how I can't wait for 1,000 or something. You know, I never really do anything for the big round numbers (although big round numbers are my favorite). I usually don't even write a very long post (because my life is boring). My 600th was angsty, and then I talked about Up, and I might've even mentioned grades or something. Usually I include a picture of some celebratory thing, like fireworks.

I've used a surprising amount of parentheses (because I can't form full, coherent sentences in order to describe my meaning).

Before I continue (because the next part is long): I have finished my summer reading, The Once and Future King, and it's my new favorite book. It's beautiful. Also, yesterday I went on an impromptu trip to Great Adventure with Vera! Unfortunately, I still didn't get my phone.

I have to say that I am having a miserably boring summer, with barely any communication with my friends, which is spent inside all day. I'm not really surprised.

After venturing into my old blog archives I realized that my three year blogging anniversary was on June 27. My first actual post on Cloudy was July 8. My first post on here was November 9. All in 2008, when I was in seventh grade and I was over-emotional but couldn't express my emotions properly.

I hope to keep this blog until the Internet ends, even though I don't really read the archives anymore. Some things I don't want to remember, some things I just don't remember, and it doesn't do me any good to remember most things anyway. Writing this isn't about remembering. It's not just so I can look back in twenty years, on the old gravestone of my childhood that I've long since abandoned, and think of all the things which have no impact on me anymore.

But then, asking me why I blog is like asking me why I write. I can't answer; there are a lot of reasons and none of them make any sense to me, so if I wrote them they wouldn't make any sense to you. I guess I just like the people, and I can't stop now that I've started because I'm afraid of endings and I hate change. See, now I don't even know what I'm talking about.

I wonder why I sound so miserable?

Writing frustrates me entirely. It's as if every letter isn't going anywhere; the words are running in place, never moving forward, never bringing me to what I want. I hate everything I write, I really do. Every story I create is wrong, like I'm circling the drain until I find the one thing I'm meant to achieve, the one story which speaks to me and to others, that I can write without looking back, without losing hope. It's like a set of puzzles lined up before me in a row, and if you put them all together they make one splendid, beautiful picture, but every puzzle has been mixed up so that none of the pieces fit together, and I can't sort them out. I feel as if the reason I write is to find that one story which I am meant to tell, the very best thing I can possibly create which I have been given whatever gifts I may possess so that I can create it.

There are obstacles, though. Not obstacles, but one obstacle which I cannot overcome. It's not the puzzle pieces; if I were patient I could sort them out. The trouble is my own disenchantment with the world. I don't hate it but I don't know what to do with it, don't know how to tear myself away from it. The world makes me think that every step I take is wrong. Everything I see is contrived and empty, fake, silly, and my own work is no exception. Everything I write, from the moment I put it on paper, is wrong to me. It's all just plastic; the whole world is plastic, and I can't create something that isn't. I'm no alchemist; I can't turn lead into gold, and I can't discover the elixir of life. I fear for myself, and that when I die, there will be nothing left of me at all.

I want to leave something behind desperately. The desire for recognition has poisoned my work, and I know it; it fills every word with fear. It is in short a desire for approval, but it runs deeper than that. I want the things I create to live on forever; I want them to be classics, to be discussed by professors, to change people's lives. I want people to feel. And this want has made me so focused on recognition that nothing I write is good enough. Nothing I have created makes anyone feel, or weep, or sense for days that there's something missing from them which they weren't even aware of beforehand--these are all the things I have experienced, but cannot make others experience. It's infuriating to believe that there is one story, one thing of beauty which I am meant to create, but I can't see it before me.

I want to capture all things sad and beautiful, to describe heartache and to be subtle. Subtlety is my desire; when I look at the world through my own eyes, I see sadness and I see beauty; I see what is there all around me but the true love I have for the world comes from the things unable to be expressed, the feelings you get when you stand in the wind, the thoughts which break your heart in silence, the things you know without knowing why. You see the light everywhere, but the rays of the sun are subtle, and the warmth or the cold on your skin. I want people to see the beauty I see without having to tell them, so that they can love it and make it apart of themselves.

I want too many things. It all pains me. I feel desperately alone; not because I don't think anyone would understand, but because I can't express my meaning so that they will. It would be so easy if I had the puzzle pieces in a line before me, so that I could put them together and show the world these things I see. I think it's worth something to see the world as beautiful, to feel alive just by standing on the steps and feel the wind through the trees as the sun sets. I think it's worth something to see the difference between the light of the morning and the light of the afternoon. I wish everyone was as fascinated and devestated by the world as I was, because then I wouldn't be tasked with describing it to them, to make them feel it too.

I don't really know what I was originally planning to write here. I suppose this would be Why I Write, Second Edition. I think it's significant that I accidentally deleted a paragraph and I cried, because I couldn't remember what I said, and it felt lost forever.

I think I've been trying to say this for a while.

Friday, July 8, 2011



Monday, July 4, 2011


Happy Independence Day!

I'm trying to describe my fireworks experience without sounding pretentious, but it's not turning out so well :) Every year the local high school (not the one I go to, but one closer) hosts a fireworks display for the Fourth of July, and it's become something of a tradition for my dad and I to go. It  simply isn't the Fourth of July without fireworks. We left around 7:30, because the show was supposed to start at 8, but we all know it doesn't start until around 9:30 when the sun goes down. Even hours beforehand, the streets surrounding the school were busy; rather than fight with the crowd, we pulled into the half-full parking lot of a business and walked the rest of the way.

The fields behind the school were already crowded; the most popular vantage point, a hill which offers a perfect view, was almost completely filled. My dad and I found some bleachers which, except for a couple trees, would let us see all of the fireworks. Slowly people began to fill in, and the sky grew darker.

Before the fireworks began was the celebration--not of independence, not for our country, but the joy of being together and being with friends and family, the joy of sitting in a field with hundreds of others, strangers brought together, waiting for the sun to go down. People from all over town came together and played together and laughed together; as the sky grew darker, glow tubes dotted the field. All around you could see the glow tubes; people threw them, ran with them; you could see the vendors, holding great chunks of them in their hands, wandering like beacons through the fold-out chairs and blankets. There was the smell of hot dogs, grass, perfume, air, and people; there were people everywhere. There was togetherness. There was friendship. There were games and food and conversation; there was nothing bad in the air, not a single sour feeling, just friendliness and anticipation.

The fireworks started without warning; in a moment the atmosphere went from a communal picnic to riveted focus. Everything stops. Your eyes are filled with light, and you count the seconds till the sound hits you, the crack that stops your heart. One after another, flying upward and disappearing for a moment before exploding in a burst of color before slowly fading, twinkling out like dying stars. Each new explosion illuminates the fading smoke skeletons of the ones before. Whispers and gasps and laughter fill the silence, create a backdrop for a world which has suddenly been narrowed down to the simple, beautiful world you see in the sky. As red, white, blue, purple, green rock the sky you get a feeling, a sense of what you're celebrating--the people gathered, the joy of the moment, the wonder of this thing you can't grasp. This is what the celebration is for; this feeling of pure, untainted, happy freedom. It's a beautiful, beautiful thing.

The finale is a spectacle, one after another after another. The entire world is filled with light. You know it's ending because it's more spectacular than anything you've ever seen; it's a thousand, million colors, lights, and the old ones don't even have time to die before the new ones fill the sky and you can hardly breathe, you can't breathe. Then it's over and the field of people you forgot was there begin to move, to fight each other to get out, but their eyes are still training on the skyline, just in case...

Meanwhile, a certain young writer tries desperately to remember all the things she thought during the show, so that she can write about it later :) Happy Fourth, everyone!

Friday, July 1, 2011


I realized I forgot to say HAPPY FIRST DAY OF JULY!, and then that I forgot to share my final grades, which came in the mail yesterday. I'm very happy about my final exam grades :D
  • English - 85This one is okay; considering that it was the hardest exam, I'm not too worried about it. Some people did better, some people did worse.
  • Geometry - 96WOOOOOO. Considering how poorly I usually do on math tests, I'm SUPER DUPER happy about this!
  • Science - 97WOOOOOO. AGAIN. WOOOOOO. But then, I usually do fairly well on science :D
So, yes, very happy about all of that :D My actual final grades were pretty good, too, considering. I wish I could have done better overall, but too late now, you know?
  • English - 88
  • Art - 90
  • Geometry - 87
  • Latin - 88
  • Science - 84
  • World Civ. - 90
Just think, the next letter I get in the mail will be my sophomore year schedule :D

Unheard of!

Hey, I actually did something today! How exciting! It's almost like not being a lump.

Shameless plug time for my fantastical friend, Shari. She has an art blog, Fresh Crayons, which is now doing a giveaway involving her lovely Etsy shop. It's not nearly as popular as it should be. AWAY WITH YEE, BLOGGER FRIENDS. GOEST THOU TO YON  LADY'S BLOG.

I like to think I didn't butcher all that nice old-timey speech.

Anyway. I went to the mall with Shari today, and actually bought things! I got this shirt, which just makes me happy in so many ways, and this dress, which I wasn't really sure about, but Shari convinced me to get. So, hooray! I'm getting ever closer to my annual obsession with buying new clothes for the school year, which generally comes right before my obsession with school supplies. The most beautiful thing about going back to school is all the stuff it gives you an excuse to buy.

Oh, and I got a dollar's worth of bouncy balls from Old Navy, which is an entirely reasonable purchase and I can't fathom why you're all looking at me strangely...

Now I'm just cheerful. Imagine, actually doing things with friends during summer vacation! Unheard of!

This morning wasn't that great, though. Last night I tried to mentally will myself to wake up around 7 o'clock so I could mow the lawn and take a shower and stuff, but that didn't happen. So, after waking up at 9 in a semi-panic, only two hours before I was supposed to be at the mall, I went out to mow the lawn. It was all going great--as great as that particularly chore can be--when all of a sudden, out of the blue, I run over a hose. I swear I stared at that spot for a good minute, trying to decide if there was a hose there, because I thought there might be but I couldn't see it. Clearly there was. Anyway, the mower suddenly stopped, and after many desperate attempts to turn it back on, I started crying. Probably because, if it couldn't be fixed, I'd have to pay for a new one, haha.

Well, that was my day! Until next time, friends!