Quod.

At the end of the day, we think we want to be everything we're expected to be.

But, at the end of the day, we really just desire someone to tell us we're more than anything they could have expected us to be. 

Cause my camera is my prescription glasses, cause without that lens and that shutter button, this world is blurry and exploding, unexplainable in every sense.

We are who we are not because we chose to be, but because there's that one person that makes us decide we have to prove them wrong. 

Because anyone who's defined me has been wrong about me. And anyone's who hasn't been wrong about me never defined me.

Because Hope isn't just from heaven. It's from human to human and from him to her. 

Hindrances / Merchandise (sorry, I know my titles suck)

We're standing here for no reason.
And here, the weather changes though it's not a new season.
You're as cold as the North Winds, but windier,
but, this time, our relationship isn't the only that's being hindered.

Falling through the cracks, I can hardly believe that we did.
You believe it's all my fault, my flaws, just 'cause I'm a foolish kid.
Drive me to the nearest Target and place me back on the shelf
cause there's clearly a price tag on me that I couldn't see myself.
I look in the mirror and see you,
our similarities are obvious, I won't argue.
Though the truth is, I'd rather have anything than that be true

Oh, these times are hard. They're making us crazy. Don't give up on me baby http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cRh4lskJQUQ&feature=related

    I really don't even know what to write about. I feel about as motivated and inspired as a piece of burnt toast. No emotion. I'm tired, but a gratifying and admirable, an almost congenial tired. I went running last night, threw up, woke up early this morning and did the same route....but without throwing up. Actually, scratch the no emotion thing... I am exhilarated. Animated. Invigorated. Ebullient. Yesterday was a harmoniously, pleasingly great day, but it was one of those days that you don't realize how fabulous it was until you glance back. Just like you can't really judge a president until they're out of office, and the effects of their leadership settle in. You can't tell how good they are (or bad, in Bush's case) until their laws are executed. Yesterday, my dad told me that we are actually attending my cousin's wedding, this June in Islamorada (one of the Florida Keys). I absolutely love summer, beaches, vacation, travelling, weddings, the month of June (isn't it just such a "Oh, look at the lovely dandelions! See the green grass! Wear a sundress! Look at the brilliant stars!" month? Gahhh, I adore June!), celebrations with food, the Kerns, and planes. All that's left is my siblings to both be able to attend, then I am convinced few things could be more sublime.
    Rewind to Friday. I babysat some of the coolest kids alive. Around eleven (no party animals here), the kids' mom came home and we hopped into the car and she drove me the three blocks to my house. She handed me some cash before I dashed out of the car and said the most encouraging thing I've heard all week. As my fingers fumbled around on the cash, slightly uncomfortable that I'm sitting having a sentimental talk with one of my employer's, I caught a few words that she was really articulating, clearly but quickly. She was saying how her family loves me, loves how I play with her children, how wonderful I am, and how I will continue to be her #1 babysitter. We need more of those people. She had no need to tell me anything she did, she had no need to drive me up the street just because it was cold and late, but she did, without hope of repayment and without question. Those people are the ones that save the cynical critics, like me, from drowning in this plundering and pillaged world.

Home isn't always where the heart is

I know two play this game,

but it's you who don't live up to your name.

One to provide and support,

instead a father waiting for a chance at a callous retort.

Through my stinging eyes, I envision crossing that threshold, void of a goodbye.

I would never return. Farther than far, I would go.

Because your snide speech reaps far more than it sows. 

Because your treacherous tongue hurts more of me than you know.

"Dad, three years, and I'm out of here."

Your face turns to iron: unrelenting, cold and stern.

My feet carry me away, it's too much to handle, 

I saw the sincerity of your indifference, your true colors at their essence. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_PD3RuojxsE

As I looked over the pictures I wanted to post, I peered at the one of my family and this song came to mind (in title). In Mean Girls, Aaron Samuels enters Cady's room and strides over to a dresser, sees a picture of Cady with the Plastics, frowns, and glances at the picture behind it. Directly after, a smile emerges on his face as Cady is with an elephant and exactly the opposite of Plastic, real. Not synthesized or manufactured, but genuine. While my life is no movie, if I ever had a boyfriend, I would want his reaction to be the same as Aaron's. He would appreciate me even in my bowl-haircut stages, and actually delight in seeing those times in my life (however unattractive they may be).
In the following picture, my initials are just sitting on my math notes. Since I was placed behind two SUPER tall kids, it is pointless to even try and see the SmartBoard. So I take notes by ear and doodle so I'm not tempted to pull out my book and read behind my shield of giant teenagers sitting in front of me. Anyway, I love the logo of my name. I tried to think of an acrostic, in which I came up with Just Made Kinky. It sounds silly, but it's honest. I was just made with a different mold than most others, which is totally fine by me.

Sorry these pictures were a little meaningless but I have a ton to import, but I didn't have so much time tonight to decide and upload them all.

We'll just call this Tidbits (part 2).

Pipe Dreams * / White Knuckles

You're a dreamer,
a pure-blood believer,
but don't make me follow,
you are in none of my pity to wallow.
All I say,
it doesn't have to be this way.
But hurting you's the only way you learn:
my respect for you, you have never earned.

A pang anxiety,
a twinge of desire.
I wanted it so badly,
the idea I was in love with madly.
You snapped your fingers,
but that ambition still lingers.
One day, you won't be able to.
That success will be the first of many, a debut.
I'll look back and smirk,
'Cause I defied everything you told me not to.

Tidbits. :)

So, I'm sorry I mocked Bert and John Jacobs in a previous post of mine, but it was for the sake of proving a point. Call me contradictory, but I'm siding with them once more:


Life Is Good!


-Tea makes me happy though it tastes like diluted dirt water
-I think cameras are practical, but yet, so awful. I went running yesterday and my legs ran me straight to a park by my house. Upon seeing the beautiful lake as I entered the park, I also spotted a tranquil hideaway across the lake. I scurried around the lake to find the spot I had been eying and sat Indian style (the best way). After a few moments on meditating and just examining the glorious sight before me, a rising sun jabbed my peripheral(s?) (you know when the sun either reflects off something such as a car or comes out from beyond the trees where your sunglasses don't cover and your eye feels like a needle just was stuck in it? Maybe not, but bare with me). So I turned my head (uhh, who looks at the sun when it just jabbed them in the eye? Still, I'm glad I did.) and saw such an array of colors and a painting that 1,000 words would be such an injustice. The moment was so picturesque that though the sun was burning a hole in my retina, my gaze was glued. For a second, that little voice in my head (the one that is just so annoying, that says aww when they kiss in movies) said Oh darn! Shoulda brought your camera! But then the voice I favor, the proponent of all logic and reason, said No! You idiot! Why in the sam heck would you go running with a camera. Or, moreover, ruin this perfectly, incoherently exquistite moment?!  At that moment, I turned and glanced over the dazzling water and had basically the same arguement with myself once more. I thought it'd be nice to have my laptop with me, to blog about the beauty enclosing me and how dumbfounded it caught me, but then it would have lessened those moments. So I pushed all those thoughts to where they belonged and concentrated on the surroundings that had me so aghast. I wish so much that you (if anyone is reading this) could have seen the ravishing sights of the great outdoors. In those split seconds, there is nothing more certain in my whole body, that reaches an impeccably tall 5'3', that there is indeed a Creator. But that is a whole separate can of worms.
- I secretly shield my desire to read love stories because I feel it to be a weakness, and another thing that makes me part of the group I so violently abhor, but treasure them so much that (keep in mind once more, I don't cry) when I read Message in a Bottle, I wept myself to sleep.
-Rap never ceases to give me an inadvertent burst of energy.
-Summer camp, not church camp, is one of my favorite places to go in the entire world
-My aunt and uncle's back porch holds number one for that category (favorite place in the world)
-I LOVE math (except geometry) - “Mathematics, rightly viewed, posses not only truth, but supreme beauty; a beauty cold and austere” -Bertrand Russell. "Pure mathematics is, in its way, the poetry of logical ideas" -Albert Einstein. Why? When everything else in life is unstable and feeble, weak and disappointing, or worst yet, unknown, Math always presents an answer. No solution or all solutions, there is always a logical, reasonable, possible, definite solution in which is faultless. When everything else requires faith I cannot give, Math provides logic and discovery, consistently. Math is the single post that can be grasped when everything spins out of control and collides with the ground.
-I am not a people person. I don't know why it took me so long to discover this, but I'm not. I never will be. I cannot handle people well. I become annoyed easily and in turn become passive. There is not bigger nightmare (other than getting married) than working in Customer Service once I am employed after college.
-I was meant to be a mermaid. Swimming is of second-nature to me (maybe due to my 7+ years of year around swimming? Nonetheless,) and I enjoy life much more from behind my Speedo Vanquisher goggle lenses.
-Despite popular belief and judgments placed upon me before actually knowing me, I truly am an outdoors-woman. As I was typing the last bullet, I almost typed that I enjoy life most [...] but hesitated and instead realized how I love the Great Outdoors more than anything else. Picnics and pools to hiking and heavy backpack trips, I might complain some, but what is more rewarding than looking back on a day spent basking in the beauties around you?
-The stars are one of my favorite sights. Before my dad began to be so consumed with work and whatnot, the two of us would grab two towels and trek down to the end of our driveway. I still can recall laying down with the crickets and mosquitoes on some blazing summer evenings and watching the stars just be. No need for tomorrow, I can remember feeling. I liked a boy in seventh grade because at the dance, we were right under the star and talked about them, and as a young-in, I found nothing more charming in the world.

I could go on forever about random tidbits, but I won't. It's rather selfish that I've already written so much solely on me and my likes and interests. Until then, you know where I'll be, in the Great Outdoors, doing my math homework, wishing the stars would come out tonight.

Fine Filth / A Dangerous Melody

She's shipwrecked, a horrid mess.
You see the makeup stains on her dress.
Her veil is no longer concealing,
her tale no longer jovial,
she bites her nail, her nervousness revealed.
'Cause no one wants dirt on their slacks.
No one sees what she has, just what she lacks.

Tickling my ears,
Daddy, your voice is all I hear.
Oh,
These floorboards aren't sound.
But it don't matter,
I'm just glad to hear you 'round.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uDkBzkA9L4s

Winterfest was extremely ironic. Winter feels like the darkest season of all, with the longest nights of all, right? Well that's exactly what Winterfest was: an extremely long, dark evening. Not too bad though, just long and dark. Oh, sweaty, confused, dirty, shaky, and bizarre also fit Winterfest as well. 

Sweaty because my date had his hands around my waist and I could feel the sweat on the tops of his forearms while we were dancing. Confused because everything from where to take pictures and what car to ride in to what hairstyle I should wear and who to dance with while my date was occupied. Dirty because people should definitely not grind while their dress is already as high as soffees shorts. Honestly, it scars me to have seen straight up your skirt, please never do that again. Shaky because I was a little out-of-balance when exiting the car and tripped into a small ditch. Lastly, it was rather bizarre because my friend Kelly cannot swallow gum so she gave it to one of our friends (I thought she would throw it away or something) and instead our friend swallowed it for her. The strangest thing I've ever seen attempted at a dinner table. And my mom is quite a scientist (she mixes coffee yogurt and spaghetti and views it as normal) at the dinner table, so that means a lot. 

While the dance was hectic and dinner was bursting with energy and anticipation, the sleepover was one of the best ever. It contained such a random set of girls that somehow worked out the sleeping arrangements as perfectly as 9 girls can without communicating. I woke up with my head stuck in an ottoman, and two girls were on the sectional above me, two girls I would never have envisioned sleeping in the same room. Altogether, it was such a bonding and humbling experience to see how we may be so different but congregate on such occasions and become good friends when we've seen each other in the halls everyday for half of a year now. 

Girls are like cds. We accumulate photos, memories and files, but to access all that, you have to take us out of the case first. We don't step out from behind our shields on our own, something has to bring us together. That is exactly how this last weekend was: a dance that wasn't even that merry and wonderful merged us together in one evening more than anything else has in six months. Winterfest took us all out of our cd cases.

Of All the Years That We Stood There on the Sidelines, Wishing for Right Now http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3cZRmyR3r0k

I don't have much time, nor do I have energy (basically every muscle below my waist has been throbbing today - hehe). Last night was a blast. The dance  was a bust, yet really animate and alive. Getting ready before was loose but anxious and the sleepover was like no other. While last night was a set of oxymorons, today left me pondering even more about how much time you can waste time by being unhappy, not even knowing what could possibly beyond your dis-contentedness.
I will go into greater detail tomorrow, or sometime this week, because I have so much to scribble down. Mostly, though, listen to the song in the title, and you'll receive maybe a glimpse of how invincible I feel right now. Beyond the tiredness that lies beneath my eyes, the restlessness and tenseness within my home, and every other limit and confine that has ever been placed upon me,  I lived a life that was mine last night and today. February 12th, 2011 is no glorious-sounding date, but it is. It's Jenny's National Forget the Haters, Forsake the Traitors, Don't Care About Your Behavior Day. And so is tomorrow. And Tuesday. And every moment for the rest of my life.

Daddy's Not Daughter

    As I replay another paining debacle with my mother in my mind's eye, I sit here typing into a blurring screen. I've said before, I don't cry. This is true. Tears don't ever leave my eyes, just the softness of my vision is boosted to the point where all I can make out is the general shape of an object. More than anything, I need a person. A physical, in front of my face, play-with-my-hair person, not a machine with some keys or a phone where it's not even guaranteed that I am talking to someone. It could be a robot with a human's voice on the phone. And all I hear during this is my father's tantalizing voice in the distance, chuckling occasionally, listening mostly, and injecting his software expertise when desired/needed. "Don't bother me now," would melt his smile if I appeared with my foggy eyes. Broken heart or broken leg, he wouldn't care. All that matters is everything but Jenny. No, I know that's a lie. I matter. People are human and work falls before family in some occasions, but I do wonder what would happen if I left right now, went running and I slipped on the iced-over sidewalks and died before I received help. Or while you were gone, being anywhere but with me, I was murdered. Would you think twice about telling me to take a hike?
     Thump-thump-thump-thump quickly interrupt my thoughts. IT'S DADDY! His running shoes smack against the hardwood floors and down the stairs in hasty steps. I call his name through my closed door. "I'll be there in a sec'." He replies. I wait patiently, staring at the wall until I hear his shoes distantly become louder and louder, slowly drawing nearer and nearer. I place my laptop below my feet as I prepare to see my Dad for the first time today. His feet forsake me. I sit here as he walks past my room, closes his door and begins to work feverishly once more. Not remembering for a second he had just told me a lie.
     Out from all this, I finally can formulate (not comprehend - no, I'll never see how you could do this with such ease) this stinging clause. The only place Daughter comes before Job is in the dictionary. But, Dad, don't you worry, you're doing this pretty well already.

When the waves are flooding the shore, and I can't find my way home anymore

    I am tempted to publish this post without even entering a body, because the title sums up everything I want to say. The title is a little dishonest, though. After the fragment above, the song says that's when I look at you. But I cropped that, because that would be a deceitful exhibit of how I feel. While I watched and concentrated on every musical note and scene in the music video, I couldn't help but hear a ever-so-slight hesitation between the clause of bitterness and melancholy and the almost sanguine: that's when I look at you.
    Thus, I look to the fact that sometimes, the more unfortunate of us never have an opportunity to utter: that's when I look at you. We have no battle cry, no resort for our destitution. Instead, we sit here and hum that when our world is falling apart, when there is no light to break up the dark, we' have to continue without any relief. That life sucks. Sorry Bert and John Jacobs, try Life Isn't Good.
    This week was rather lethargic, every moment so painfully important. The eves-dropping on my parents to either failing this test or acing it, I had to drag myself into each second, lugging all my baggage into each moment, even when I thought there was too much for it all to fit. While brainstorming what to say, I glance over the laptop screen and beyond into my shanty dwelling, a perfect reflection of both me and my life.
    Ruminating over that statement, I have a challenge for anyone out there reading: your life doesn't have to be you. Let it not be you. I'll try if you do. Our lives are just the mystery meat slung onto our trays at camp, maybe it's a little gross (or a lot) but that is only a trace of a shred of what should affect our day. The minutes this week I shoved with my shortcomings into, the desire to eves-drop on the arguments, knowing I'd be even more indignant and distressed, making studying the subunits of Carbohydrates and their functions that much more difficult.
    Today is a new day and a new life begins, as others end. I am already beyond blessed to be alive, living and breathing in each second that zooms by, and nothing will snag those from me. My encumbrances won't imprison me today, no thank you. Cause for once, my life is everyone's but mine. And all I have to be is me.

Places

I decided to pop a squat in this exact spot about four hours ago and moved only for dinner. I have guarded this spot like it is my job, letting everything else filter through this one standing ground. As I text someone about Winterfest and let the music float through my ears and fall out the other side, I feel emotionless. My day started off rough, initially because another tomato zit appeared on my face. (Tomato zits are the huge kind that are like ant hills are your face, are bright red and no matter what your dermatological prescription is or your acne-killing secret, they take at least a week to go away.) After showering and getting dressed, I did my makeup and blow-dried my hair. I ate part of my breakfast, gathered my books and binders, grabbed the other half of my breakfast and ran out to my carpool with as much momentum as Dash from the Incredibles. I would not gain a ginormous tomato zit and miss my ride all within less than an hour.

My day was quite literary-term resembling. Alliteration: Drab and Dull. The minutes passed as quickly as molasses runs, but not in a bad way. Unlike the agonizing longevity of Monday, their gravity didn't strap me to my chair and nearly suffocate me. They were empty moments, but heavy at the same time. Like metal or titanium ships without passengers or furniture, they contained nothing but fell with such clamorous crashes. At the end of the day, everything was iffy. IFFY. What an awful word. It, in itself, is iffy. Iffy has no real connotation besides its meaning. What a perfectly, awfully constructed word. Ignoring that side note, I had yet another insignificant scuffle with the mom. Why do I have such an eventful and spontaneous life?

Coming home, I retreated to the space with walls that hold my head when my neck is too scrawny, that lift my shoulders when they still schlump despite my efforts. These fencing, four walls try to kill me sometime, they hold me so high to where my feet can hardly reach the ground. They are my only crutch as I click the little red X button beside the Facebook tab and reach for my phone but it is out of reach. They breathe strength into me and gather me into one piece and impel me to be individual, to be independent. 

Moments later, Explosions in the Sky played on the iHome and my heartbeat echoed the beating drums. My pulse sped as the drums burst with sound. Yet, my indifference was evident. I rhythmically and mechanically completed my Algebra 2 homework, only hesitating to locate my original equation in all of my chicken-scratch. I opened Facebook once more and immediately acknowledged the name of a guy I basically hate on chat. (Not his real name-) Trent, himself, isn't so bad. I rather like him when we talk and interact, but it's him, morally, that pisses me off. He flirts with a bunch of girls and his words are miles in front of his actions. Trent promises things he won't do and tries too hard to look like he doesn't try at all. So, in other words, he's a total poser and feigns hating the attention then under-handedly totally milks it. But that's another can of worms.

Yesterday, I was a stay-up-late slacker. Today, I am a methodical machine without any human reflexes staring blankly at a arrogant guy's name on Facebook chat. Tomorrow, who knows what I will be. But all that matters now is sorting the rest of today. Words of Coldplay drift through one ear and fall out the other. They come like the shape of a kid running the course of a diving board. Even, level and unaware of the crash at the end. They dart across the board and collide with an abundance of aqua beneath. They collide with the carpet here. They seep in and remain stationary.

They perch on the flooring on which I put all my weight and faith into, the faith of keeping me up. They settle there until I sort them out, problem by problem, so methodically, until there is nothing left to figure out but what I will be tomorrow.