Under Pressure.

The title of this post is reminiscent of the oh so popular song by Queen.

Pressure, pushing down on me. Pressing down on you. No man ask for. 

That's basically how my life is going right now. I've never been under quite so much pressure. As if being a senior and running a school weren't a challenge in itself, I now bear the weight that comes along with the responsibility of being a licensed driver. Following the rules of the road, watching out for other people, in addition to minding my own ass. My mom wants me to get a job so I can pay for my gas. She wants me to go to the grocery for her. She wants me to take my brother here. And there. Oh and there too.

That burns a building down. Splits  a family in two. Puts people on streets.

Soon I will have to pack all of my things including that license, buy gas, and drive myself away from my home and to college. I have yet to pick a college. And a major. And a career. And a life to call my own. This past Saturday, it dawned on me that my days are numbered. No, no, I'm not planning on dying soon, but my days of lazy Saturdays and procrastination are most definitely numbered. So few in fact, I'm afraid I can count them. My mom wants me to spend my Saturdays planning my future. She doesn't understand my need to savor every Saturday. Planning can wait until Sunday.

It's the terror of knowing what this world is about. Watching some good friends screaming "let me out".


School, with whom I was once so happily acquainted, has transformed an untamable monster. My classes aren't hard. It's just hard for me to actually do the work. I'm sick of busy work and have a bad case of senior-itis, doused with my predisposition to act like a diva. Last week was the worst it has ever been.  Also, the worst it will ever be. I realized half-way before too late that in order to get a job, or go to college and grow up and concern myself with planning and bills and panty-hoes, or any of the ridiculous things society or my mother wants me to do, I have to (somewhat) focus now. That's what pressure will do to you. It will take your childish fantasies, slap you in the face with them and cast them into the fire.

Pray tomorrow gets me higher. Pressure on people. People on streets.

Pressure is like the mafia. They give you an ultimatum, a death threat, and a dead line. Unfortunately for pressure, I am stubborn and refuse bow to its wishes. Examples? Sure. Last week, my friends and I went to a dinosaur themed restaurant to celebrate their 18th birthdays, played the La Marseillaise on the kazoo and continued to watch movies from our past (ie, My Neighbor Totoro, Veggie Tales...). So, pressure can pry youth from my cold, dead, decrepit fingers.

Um ba ba be. Um ba ba be. De day da. Ee day da- That's okay.

Today I Decided...

Today, I decided to be happy no matter what. Because wallowing in self-pity only makes it worse.

Today, I decided to stick around for better or for worse. Because once you leave, you'll be hard pressed to come back.

Today, I decided to speak my mind. Because nobody can read it for me.

Today, I decided that I am in control. Because without control, there can be no hope of progression.

Today, I decided to be confident. Because I can.

Today, I decided that people are all we have

Today, I decided to hope. Because though frail, it's hard to kill.

Today, I decided that love was the answer. Because it conquers all.

The Belated Blog: From the Dormant Desk of one Withered Writer.

I have not blogged in over a week. It's not that I don't care to blog, or that I have nothing about which I would like or need to blog. No. I have often referred to my life as an episode of the popular Canadian teen-drama called Degrassi. In said show, with every episode someone has either had an abortion, contracted syphilis or has laid themselves in front of a tractor out of protest and met a sticky end. As I said, my life follows such patterns. You may be thinking, "why do you associate yourself with such people as they seem to inflict such turmoil upon your otherwise perfect life?" I'll have you know that first and foremost, I do not consider myself to have such an exemplary life. If I did, rest assured, I would not have a blog. Nobody wants to read about the perfect life in which I wake up to Handel's water music and birds fluttering around my head and proceed to go to school in my steam-pressed plaid skirt and knee-socks, a healthy lunch made by my mother in an unwrinkled brown sac in hand and all of my teachers are chip-chipper and my friends are all bright eyed and rosy cheeked, because that would be a nightmare. Not to mention a huge lie. Secondly, it's not that I choose to surround myself with such people. Rather, I tend to surround myself with people, instead of dooming myself to a life as a social leper. Everybody has their quirks, (yes, that means you) and I, personally like them. They tend to keep life interesting. Where would I be without my crazy friends and their equally crazy families? I'll tell you. I'd be hopelessly lost. Many of the crazy people I encounter on a day to day aren't even my friends. I am guilty of sitting in a coffee shop just to watch the customers in their natural habitats. I sometimes go so far as to fabricate scenarios that I assume to be their lives. For example, just the other day, I was sitting outside of a local coffee shop called, The Roasterie with my friend Kirby. (Mind you, Kirby does not share the same passion of people as myself so naturally she was just sitting there with her iced mocha, absorbed in the newspaper.) An aged man walks by wearing a gray pristinely tailored suit, a pink tie and brown leather loafers. Oh, he also had an alligator skin briefcase and placed so delicately atop his head was a black toupée. 45. Lawyer. Three kids and a dog named Scout. That sort of thing. You understand.

What one could call my obsession with people has led me to attempt to pursue a career as a psychologist.  I used to want to be a sex therapist. But that is a bit of hasty thinking as I've not yet experienced the "magic" of sexual intercourse. Anyway, maybe later in my career I will see patients who have reached their golden years and attempt to help them rediscover their libido. But, for starters, I'd like to be that "shrink" with the cool office and leather chaise where you come and spend an hour talking your heart out. I find that people love to talk and I love to listen. Another thing people don't realize, is that they often say far more than they intend without saying anything at all. I feel like psychology would be the best job for me and for the life I'd like to have. Psychology will allow me to have flexible enough hours to where if my child chops off his or her finger, I can be in the ER in a heartbeat, holding their disfigured hand. Morbid, you say? Yes. But that's what kids do. They chop off appendages. On a more realistic note, let's say my darling son and or daughter has a game or school play for which my attendance would be much appreciated, I would love to be able to be there. Perhaps this is because I have never felt the pleasure of having a parent support me an my functions, as they both have demanding jobs. Sad yes, but if I can manipulate my disappointment  into something beautiful for the sake of my children, so be it. This career will also give me room to pursue my other passion. Writing. I love to write and I have recently unearthed a secret desire to write and perhaps illustrate children's books. As my dear boyfriend once said, "[I'll] be a regular Patricia Polacco." She was truly one of the greats. Though, I would rather be more of a Roald Dahl. It was books like Matilda and James and the Giant Peach that saw me through my woeful days. Though Lemony Snicket and J.K. Rowling were also among my childhood favorites, it is not my desire to write on such a grand scale.

So, there you have it. My life, and plans in a nutshell. Make of it what you will.

Wherever You Are

Come out moon, come out wishing star
Come out, come out
Wherever you are

I'm out here in the dark
All alone and wide awake
Come and find me
I'm empty and I'm cold
And my heart's about to break
Come and find me

I need you to come here and find me
Cause without you I'm totally lost
I've hung a wish on every star. It hasn't done much good so far
I can only dream of you
Wherever you are

I'll hear you laugh, I'll see you smile
I'll be with you just for a while
But when the morning comes, and the sun begins to rise
I will lose you

Because it's just a dream, when I open up my eyes
I will lose you

I use to believe in forever, but forever is to good to be true
I've hung a wish on every star
It hasn't done much good so far

I don't know what else to do, except to try to dream of you
And wonder if you are dreaming too
Wherever you are

A Shrewd Awakening.

It's not that I don't want to grow up. I just want to stay a child as long as I can. Take my time. Now that I'm a senior in high school, people are expecting certain things of me. Asking me certain questions. To which most of them, I just shrug my shoulders. It's not that I don't care about growing up, because I do. I'm not your typical nonchalant adolescent. No. It's just that I look at people like my parents and teachers and they don't seem to be having a swell time being grown up. I also don't understand the things about which adults are concerned. Suits and ties. Stocks and bonds. Those things seem ironically infantile. I also hate how adults are. Stalking around the earth like kings, who don't even condescend to consider "children" like myself. They forget what it's like. Almost as if they forgot they were ever children themselves. If only they could see that they are not nobles, but amorphous, gray, shells, merely pretending to exist.

It's sad, because I can already see myself slipping into maturity. I can feel it creeping into my being, and suppressing my inner-child. Certain television shows and movies just don't tickle me in the same way they once did. I am no longer stupefied by the simple wonders of nature, like rainbows, snow capped mountains or even from where babies come. And perhaps the most horrible loss of all, is all that remains of my imagination which once smoldered like an untamable inferno within, is but a feeble ember.

Just as depressing is the fact that there is almost nothing neither you nor I can do to prevent this. At some point, the majority of us will be consumed by the demon that is maturity. Life rapes us of our tender ambitions and leaves precious few virgin souls on this earth. All we can do is enjoy it while it lasts. And pray that just maybe, the transition into adulthood won't be so bad after all. I'm sure maturity has it's perks, (they have, however, chosen not to disclose their whereabouts at the present time). They have disguised themselves well. But I have so far uncovered one and it lies within parenthood. I have come to appreciate that ideas like holding your child for the first time possess a new sort of gratification. Hence, I have pragmatically placed my trust in the prospect that things will be okay.