| Date: | 2005-03-02 10:40 |
| Subject: | |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  depressed |
i am seventeen years old and fickle. the bangs i've only had for a few weeks brush my nose and i peer out from under them with mean, narrowed eyes; i am not always a nice person. today is one of those days. i do not have the patience to deal with teachers today. i do not have the patience to deal with people today - this includes myself. if i were a shade more melodramatic, and a shade less apathetic, i would have smeared myself in black makeup and worn the long embroidered dress i wore to my grandfather's funeral. as it is, i'm wearing jeans that are a little too short and a brown jacket that i wore every day last spring. people stay away from me and my notebook, though: even without the trappings, they understand that i am not happy.
so, my nini-sandra is visiting at the same time as sarah would have been and i didn't even know. she talks giddily about visiting her best friend, her sasha, her jen. i feel like grabbing at her skirt-hem and whimpering: what about me? she calls me her little sister, her shaygirl. i don't know if she means it or not, because she could have been here and left without my knowing it. i am not needy. i don't beg for the love of my friends - maybe i should, instead of letting it fester until i spill it here.
i hate people reading over my shoulder, i really, really do. this is why i do not write in libraries, usually. ugh. there is an overabundance of vaguely attractive girls with horrible laughter.
i'm going to go, now.
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| Date: | 2005-03-02 10:34 |
| Subject: | |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  crushed |
so. sarah's not coming - her parents didn't come through with the funds. i don't want to think about it, don't want to think about how close she was. my eyes are sore enough without crying more, and i already have a headache.
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| Date: | 2005-02-26 22:33 |
| Subject: | |
| Security: | Public |
| Music: | Crowded House - Private Universe |
lemon chiffon yogurt is just lemon yogurt mixed with french vanilla yogurt. for some reason that upsets me a lot.
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| Date: | 2005-02-22 10:32 |
| Subject: | |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  optimistic |
so, my girlfriend got up at two am her time because she knew i'd still be on and wanted to tell me she loves me. she will be here in eighteen days and i don't think i've ever felt this queasy-excited before - it feels like right before you kiss somebody for the first time, times about twenty. i walk around and i'm fine, and then I realize holy shit i'll get to hold her hand and even that has me breaking apart. my hands are shaking as i write this; i miss her. eighteen days. i think i may get my brother to drive me to the border to meet her - it would be worth it, i think. plus, robyn would, as he's my big brother and my nybor and loves me.
my back really hurts and i don't know why.
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| Date: | 2005-02-18 22:06 |
| Subject: | |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: | i am a bitch |
so, now i'm pissed off at my girlfriend for no real good reason, except that i'm in a bad mood. and it's making me even more unhappy, because she doesn't deserve my getting pissed at her. she didn't do anything. god, i am such a bitch. (i am not this immature, really - i can just use this journal to vent about silly petty grade-three things, so i do.)
will discuss in possibly greater detail later. right now i'm just upset and achey and lonely. and bitching at my poor girlfriend who i adore, but i am pissed at her, because she keeps condescending to me.
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| Date: | 2005-02-18 11:22 |
| Subject: | |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  cheerful | | Music: | Frou Frou - Let Go |
so, i'm going downtown in an hour and a half to celebrate my birthday. alone, but that's how i like to go downtown. i don't like people dragging at me when all i want to do is sit in a coffee shop and read for two hours. i fucking love vancouver, really i do. it just makes me so incredibly, unbelievably happy to go downtown when it's sunny and i have money and. it makes me so happy. i don't know why i love vancouver so much, but i do: i love the marvellous fags holding each other's hands on davie, how the spelling of lickerish makes it seems vaguely dirty. i love that i can walk down denman and then sit on the beach with a cupcake, and that if i sit long enough in any coffeeshop i'll see ten people kiss. i love watefront and i love granville.
i do not, however, like what my hair is doing right now. rawr.
my girlfriend sent me a parcel from texas and i got it yesterday. it was full of silly her-things, and much more stuff than i deserve. she gave me bookmarks and journals and the spoon river anthology and the waste land and other writings and incense with names like 'leather and lace' because she has no idea how to buy incense but it's adorable all the same and she remembered that i like dragons blood incense. breathe. run-ons aside, it's her things that i love the most. she gave me her big bulldyke t-shirt from a bar in austin that she loves, a rainbow wristband, and her ring on a chain. i love the ring-chain. i'm wearing it around my neck right now and it makes me feel like a cheerleader with a quarterback boyfriend. it makes me so happy, and every time i look in the mirror i miss her.
three weeks and two days until i hold her hand. i am such a sap.
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| Date: | 2005-02-16 20:07 |
| Subject: | |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  angry |
so, the pastor of a nearby church has been making rowdy lately about gay marriage. not cool, especially when he protested the wedding of some fags i know personally. his latest activity was writing a letter to the local editor, which i've taken the liberty of responding to.
( his letter )
( my reply )
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| Date: | 2005-02-15 22:07 |
| Subject: | |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  lonely | | Music: | tattle tale - glass vase, cello case |
i'm listening to crash into me by the dave matthews band, who i like sometimes but not usually. regardless, it's reminding me of my ex-girlfriend katora. which is odd - i've not thought about her in a couple of months, which i suppose is probably some kind of record with me. i tend to think about other people a lot, especially people i don't talk to often.
anyways: crash into me.
i'm not sure why it reminds me of her, except that she once drew a lovely picture for me and said she drew it while listening to the song, but i digress. i was fourteen when i was with her: young enough that i honestly swore it was forever, old enough that i knew it was improbable, even impossible. she and i were wolf-girls and we knew it. we howled at each other to say hello. we both cut ourselves and swore each other we wouldn't cut too deep, and we broke up every other day and loved each other with a fierceness that frightened everyone around us. we were fourteen years old and we broke up when she moved to toronto - she was my first girlfriend, and we were together, all told, for a year.
i'm seventeen, now, and feel a lot older than i did yesterday, how odd. i feel so young too, though. young like seven years old, like six years old. not a writer, not a lesbian, not in love (stripping away the onion-cliches that are me), not anything but tiffany. all i want to do, right now, is cling to my mom's legs and ask her to make it all okay. i want her to bake cupcakes for me with a red heart, and cakes in the shape of rabbits that she makes herself as well. i want to throw a birthday party and invited all my friends, and tote around a fading stuffed rabbit. i've never honestly wanted to be a little girl again, i was always pretty poor at being a little girl, but i do today.
i keep bursting into tears for no reason at all, except that i'm little and scared and really, really want somebody to tell me that it's okay. but my girlfriend hasn't phoned, and my mom's not home, and my brother forgot my birthday and i feel like a little girl lost in a mall. i never got lost in malls as a little girl.
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| Date: | 2005-02-15 10:36 |
| Subject: | |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  thoughtful | | Music: | damien rice - amie |
i am seventeen and i feel like a different person, but not enough. when i was twelve years old i thought that being thirteen, being a teenager, would feel completely different. like maybe the difference between a catipillar and a butterfly, if you ignore the tedious symbolism inherent in that. it didn't, of course. this is the first birthday that feels different and even then it only feels like another stepping stone. another another another. when am i going to stop being so impatient? sixteen was so young. eighteen is so old. i am nothing, i think. not in any melodramatic adolescent way - i don't need to cut down to blood anymore, just to make sure it's there - but just in a simple, waiting way.
on friday i'm going to go downtown again to celebrate.
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| Date: | 2005-02-12 02:40 |
| Subject: | |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  szo tired | | Music: | Iron & Wine - Naked As We Came |
I deserve:
Long, long, long long long decadent and sensual showers, featuring candles, essential oils and shamelessly feminine fragrances. (Womb-like atmosphere duly noted)
Chai tea at all hours of the day or night, upon personal demand. Chai should never be limited by any kind of contraints.
Wearing expensive perfume (that reminds me of who I am) as often as I desire.
Music surrounding me at all times.
Silly moments of: hypocrisy, melodrama, depression, self-delusion, angst, arrogance, pretension, etc. Consider me a work in progress.
To be proud of myself and my achievments on my own terms
To make my own hours on the weekend, depending on exactly how tired I am. This often turns into what I want to do.
To have my mood change with the weather.
Running down the hallway naked at three am.
Girly makeup, face cleansers, shampoo, clothes, et cetera.
Wearing just jeans and no shirt or bra. Wearing ugly shirts my ex-girlfriends bought that make me feel happy and attractive.
More necklaces! More pointless earrings! This is becoming a v. femme list.
I need to:
Wash my face every morning. Why? Because clean faces feel fantastic, and I'm tired of being zit central. Likewise, brush & floss my teeth; I am such an unrepenetent slob. Until now! Why? Cinnamon tastes damn good, and I have cinnamon toothpaste.
Go to bed and wake up at Christian hours. Why? Because falling asleep in class is so 1980s and I'm running on negative fuel half the time. Plus, getting up at the right time equals being able to get ready properly.
Buy silky underthings, such as bras and panties, that make me feel sexy and confident. Because I can.
Get off my rear end, stop whining, and go to the damn gym. Why? I'm not fat, but losing a few pounds wouldn't hurt and exercise makes me feel good!
Keep my room clean. Clean room = clean karma.
Write.
Do all my work at school. Why? If I wasn't worried about school, I would probably be happy all around. Because I want to go to a good university and be a trendy, cute university student. Because Sarah will beat my ass in, and not in a fun way.
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| Date: | 2005-02-12 01:13 |
| Subject: | |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: | hipster-cat-cool | | Music: | Simon & Garfunkel - The Only Living Boy in New York |
i don't write enough. i don't do a lot of things enough: clean up my room, do my homework, put effort into things i should put effort into. that said, i don't write enough. at the beginning of this I meant to write in it once a day, but the best laid plans of mice and men and all that; if i made new years resolutions now, would i be more likely to keep them. alas. the capslock on my keyboard has gone to heaven, and typing in all lowercase is making me feel hip and beautiful.
i'm going to be seventeen in four days, and i'm not sure why. i don't feel seventeen - there must be some sort of law against aging when you're not ready. i call foul. it's not that i don't want to be seventeen (i really do - actually, i really want to be twenty, but we can negotiate), it's that i want seventeen to be a good year and i'm afraid i'll screw it up. if things work out, it'll be a fantastic year. already i have sarah coming home, and u2 in april. this past year has been insane, i tell you. i've fallen impulsively in love and had my heart broken, i've fucked men i met on the bus after they were in a feminist play and took me for ethiopian food, i've lost my closest friends and moved on. i've fallen in love again with the girl who feels, against all my suspicions, like home.
i wonder if i'm going to marry her. i think i might, and that scares me a little, and confuses me a little, because i'm really a slut at heart (see: pretentious man from the bus that i'd known a week). i want to wear hip clothes and get fucked against the wall by a few baby dykes, and want to catch another pretentious feminist poet man and go have sushi and ethiopian food with him. i want hundreds of beautiful little arthouse romances before i fall in love, but my heart goes, 'fuck you. fuck the untouchable amazing people you have gut-wrenching summer flings with, and fuck the hurt-looking poets. fuck all those people you want to fuck - this girl is it. you've never even touched on this love before with anyone else. this girl is all the stupid lovesick poetry you never had the courage to write, you self-concious bitch. this girl is open to you, and possibility, and one day one of you will propose to the other and you'll fight and love and fuck in a little apartment with two cats.' i'm seventeen - why the fuck am i thinking about proposing to anyone, let alone a girl in a different time zone? i'm a hopeless romantic, but only in theory.
when i listen to matchbox 20 i feel like i ought to turn in my hepcat credentials; don't care. it reminds me of my sandra, even though sometimes it feels like she's left me behind. (in my thoughts on turning seventeen, i have distinctly ignored three things: actual memories, actual people, actual tears) 'the difference' messes me up though, because it's so hard to forget your first summer fling. oh, jen, my velveteen rabbit phoenix woman - you fucked me up so bad. 'slow dancing on the boulevard / in the quiet moments while the city's still dark'. i mean, this woman planted me a garden in the middle of my forest and took me there in the middle of the night with candles and fireflies lighting the way. phoenix woman flew away, and i'm finally, finally okay with that. she had to find her ashes again. i just had to find someone else. 'day breaking on the boulevard / sun warming up your second hand heart'. i swear it: this is the last time i mention jen. sasha. whoever she is now.
i bought a valentines day card from hallmark. wow, way to stick it to the man. she's turned me into this raving lovesick lunatic, and it's fantastic. screw your facist hepcat standards.
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| Date: | 2005-02-04 23:19 |
| Subject: | |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  stupid and melodramatic | | Music: | Tori - Silent All These Years |
I don't know where I am.
I think that maybe I'm Borderline.
I feel stupid and melodramatic and way too sixteen years old. I feel emotionally suicidal.
I keep listening to music I listened to when I was twelve years old.
I gain and lose the same people daily.
I don't care about the people everybody assumes are my friends.
I want to tell them that the things they say to hurt me can't touch me.
Is it better to have the kind of friends who try to hurt you, or no friends at all?
I am so high school. I am so sixteen. One year left, if I can make it.
I've got twenty-five bucks and a cracker / do you think it's enough / to get us there
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| Date: | 2005-01-31 14:20 |
| Subject: | |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  calm |
Outside it's Spring. I don't care what the calendar says - I was born in the springtime, and the springtime is here. In Vancouver, if it's warm enough the tulips are opening by Valentine's Day, and my birthday is the day after. It's warm enough. I don't know what the temperature is, but it's perfect, and I just want to spend the entire day outside drinking chai. Sarah's coming, for sure this time, and it's making my stomach twist to think about it. She'll be here when Spring is firmly entrenched in the city. Sarah's coming home.
Shine with all the untold / hold the light given unto you
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| Date: | 2005-01-25 22:13 |
| Subject: | |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: | lucky | | Music: | Vienna Teng - Harbor |
strange how this journey's hurting / in ways we accept as part of fates decree
Everywhere I looked, I saw things that haven't yet happened. I could see myself curled in her lap at lunch, see myself catching a kiss before I go to class, holding her hand and dozing on her shoulder during the concert. I feel like I'm falling in love all over again, like she's woven that secret into my skin and everyone is able to see. I'm living my life in a world of has-beens and might-bes - in memories and things that are yet to be memories. Downtown hurts because Jen showed it to me, and that's where we drove at three am while we screamed away our fears. The rest of the world hurts because it's so beautiful, and I want to give it to Sarah.
After I pushed her away, after I told her that it was a mistake, after she saw me fall in love with and worship Jen, after I cried on her shoulder about Jen for a season - she still took me back. I'm not sure how I deserve her, and I'm afraid that one day she'll be gone and I'll be left dragging my fingers in the sand. But for now, we're ours.
And for now, I'm willing to put my faith in that.
sail your sea / meet your storm / all I want is to be your harbor
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| Date: | 2005-01-23 20:59 |
| Subject: | |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  crappy | | Music: | U2 |
Listen to me now / I need to let you know / you don't have to go it alone
So, my maniac girlfriend got me a U2.com membership so that I can see them from GA when they come here in April. Sometimes you can't make it / best you can do is to fake it. I feel exhausted. My hair is already annoying me - I can't tie it back, I have to wash it every morning, I still need to be a straightener. Blah blah blah. I'm so goddamn whiney.
Shut up, me. No love. I'm worried about this week - interims are being sent home.
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| Date: | 2005-01-18 18:47 |
| Subject: | |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: | broken | | Music: | Tori Amos - Doughnut Song |
I'm going down so quickly, and it's terrifying me. I've not spoken to Jen or Nini in weeks, and I'm tired of caring about that. I'm tired of caring about them. Fuck them - fuck that feeling of perfect, or something that's supposed to be. Fuck last Summer. Fuck last year. I would have turned my world upside down for them, and they've just... left. Alright. You win.
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Every action has an equal an opposite reaction. I looked like Greta Garbo and people fell in love with me. Gay is not a word to be respected. Gay is not a person to be respected. Gay is not to be respected. I will not respect you, your words, or your strength. I will not respect your weaknesses. I will exploit you - I will exploit what causes you pain, I will twist what gives you joy, because this is my right. You are mine, and you are flawed. Tiffany, you stupid girl.
Shut up.
My name is Shay.
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| Date: | 2005-01-16 17:11 |
| Subject: | |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  melodramatic | | Music: | U2 - With or Without You |
Blood can be pretty like a delicate man. I hate when my mom uses it against me that I used to cut - thank you for reminding me, like I haven't had enough trouble putting it behind me. Like I don't hate the scars all over me, like they don't scare away the people who see them. I haven't touched my razorblades since the summer. I made a new journal, have a new (old) girlfriend. I'm getting better. Damnnit - I am better.
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| Date: | 2005-01-16 09:14 |
| Subject: | |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  aggravated | | Music: | Bon Jovi - You Give Love a Bad Name |
I'm going to need to buy a hair straightener for this haircut - damn.
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| Date: | 2005-01-12 14:37 |
| Subject: | |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: | loved | | Music: | Vienna Teng - Harbor |
I faked sick to get out of a Math test, but somewhere along the way actually got sick and went to Math anyway. Mr Lai told me that it was okay, that I could take the test another day if I was sick, so I went home. I'm afraid that Dad will phone him after school and will find out I actually did have a test today - I lied and said I didn't. I hate when I lie, but I keep doing it. When I want to lie, I need to remind myself how much easier it is not to. Stress is more painful than telling the truth in the first place.
My mom and I have been fighting all day - she says she wants to run away from her life and never come back. I want to play her my new Vienna Teng albums, want to go on a road trip with her, remind her how much alike we can be. She is me, right now. I don't know if I'm going to become her or continue her, but I love her so much. I don't think she realizes that.
Sarah is being my saviour and my lifebouy right now.
you've got a journey to make / there's your horizon to chase / so go far beyond where we stand / no matter the distance / I'm holding your hand
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floodlikeafever's journal
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