Trying To Be Brighter Than Orange

27 May 2013

I’m sorry I’m bad. I’m sorry you’ll see every bad thing I think and do now. I hope its better now. I’m sorry, grandma. Please don’t think too badly of me and I hope you’ll be on my side. I don’t want to be alone. I wonder, will you understand this although it isn’t in Spanish? Please rest in peace. Goodnight. 

21 April 2013

I was annoyed because of a single yellow light bulb in my room and the fan being on high because this isn’t my original room. My parents moved me into the tiniest, farthest away room in the house so they wouldn’t have to see or hear me all the time. I wouldn’t care, except I’m going crazy because this room is small and cramped and yellow and dim and it just makes my head and my chest hurt because I keep having tiny mental breakdowns and I feel like I’m going to explode and I think I’m going to cry a bit under all my stuffed animals after I’m done typing this because there’s so much pressure in my head and heart and lungs and strangely enough my stomach is perfectly fine, but even weirder is the fact that I ate today, and I ate a lot, I ate ice cream and pizza and shrimp and eggs, but I almost threw up the eggs because I had to consciously eat them, the rest I ate while doing something else because I can’t eat just to eat, and well thinking of the eggs makes my stomach contract a bit, but anyway I’m going insane because of a yellow light bulb. 

31 March 2013

I took chorus for 6 years. I have strong vocal cords, impeccable scale recitation, can sight read at an advanced level, and have sung from a range of alto 1 to soprano 1 in a choir with 5 sections. I know how to sing happy birthday on pitch perfectly. DoReMi is a mantra much like the daily pledge, except I know it much better than the pledge because I cared more for it. I did all of that for 6 whole years, and today I forgot that. I found myself admiring people in YG, SM, JYP, LoEN, Cube, JTunes, etc. for spending 2-7 years max in musical training before debuting. I thought , wow, that takes dedication. Then I realized it didn’t. There are some things dedication will never get you, and that is talent. You can’t do anything or everything you want. I can’t do whatever I want. I can’t do a lot of things I want. Maybe that’s why I want them, but I don’t really think that… I wanted to be an acrobat before I realized I was too late, I wanted to be a singer before I realized I’m on pitch and skilled but too soft to be heard, I wanted to be a dancer before I realized I don’t know the first thing about moving in a dance. Why do I have so much and yet yearn for the very things I can’t have? I very much admire people who can draw, dance, sing, play sports, tie their shoes, talk, and bend. I burn with the desire to be able to do those things well. But I can’t. I’m bad at those things, though I’ve tried hard. Still, I have a lot that I can do that other people can’t. I can work hard, can build things, can analyze literature, can debate, can cook new dishes, can pull apart tiny legos, can calm animals, can design blogs and scrapbook pages, can program things, can edit html and chrome themes, can speak some Latin, and can memorize almost anything instantly. Some people are jealous of my mind. I’m jealous of their talent. I am not talented in what I wish to be talented, and I find that horribly unfair. Why can’t I trade my skills for what I want? 

26 March 2013

I think I write beautifully when I’m in pain. 

I’ve returned to this blog because I realized that I can’t delete it. I don’t want to. It’s painful to read at times, but the excerpts from when I was manically high and nothing could touch me bring a smile to my face. There should at least be good where bad exists, so I will continue writing. Sporadically, I’m sure. But I will write. And I will write good things. 

15 October 2012

Life with parents still sucks, mother has been ignoring me, father is getting progressively catty and angrier as time passes, etc. BUT THATS NOT WHAT I’M GOING TO TALK ABOUT, NOPE. I AM GOING TO VERBALLY VOMIT ON YOUR DASHBOARD ABOUT SOMETHING THAT MAKES ME TRULY HAPPY.

Okay, so now that you’re on the second paragraph, let me just tell you that no matter how long this turns out to be, it is not nearly long enough. (You see, I know this because it is nearly 12 am and I’m procrastinating on homework that must be done before I fall asleep.) SO YOU KNOW THAT BRITISH BOYBAND THING EVERYONE IS IN LOVE WITH CALLED ONEDIRECTION!? No, I am not going to write about them being the something that makes me truly happy. I just brought them up because I’m assuming that 1D makes their fans really happy. Really really really happy. Like happiness is a bright light that starts in the belly and/or heart and explodes in a bright burst of warm goodness to every little nook and cranny in a human girl’s infrastructure. The kind that makes you want to scream (and you do scream or let out the occasional squeal because you SIMPLY CANNOT HOLD IT IN THEY ARE SO LOVELY AND PERFECT AND BEAUTIFUL AND JUST WONDERFUL BLESSED CREATURES) and its okay. MORE than okay. They take can take you on an emotional rollercoaster of highs, no matter what your day was like, whether it was blase or downright depressing or whatever, they can make your heart soar in an instant. 

Do you get the point? YES, there is something that makes me this truly happy. And it is SHINee. I used the OneDirection analogy because they were the closest thing I could find to a general example understood by the majority. SHINee is comprised of beautiful and perfect wonderfulness and just now I was watching Replay (their debut video) and I came close to tears of love (yes, tears of love. MAKES NO SENSE BUT THAT IS WHAT THEY ARE. LIQUID SPRUNG FORTH FROM MY TEARDUCTS DUE TO HARDCORE ADORATION AND LOVE AND CHERISHMENT). THAT SONG WAS FROM 4 YEARS AGO. AND THEY STILL MAKE ME FEEL THIS WAY. AND THEY’RE GROWING UP SO FAST AND ITS JUST PERFECT AND UGH. THEY ARE PERFECT SOULS REALLY. SHINee HOW DO YOU DO THIS TO ME!?!!!!!!!!!!!!!?/ 

Kay, whoops, I have homework to doooooo.

12 October 2012

Deep inside, I know that it never really goes away. But since its been so long, actual months, I somehow came up with the ridiculous notion that I was ….cured? I’ve been sleeping mostly on schedule, trying to eat daily and at set times, organizing my work so I don’t get too overwhelmed, and I’ve even got my softest teddies on hand just in case. I felt pretty good. I felt stable and okay, and not once in the past 4-5 months have I had a dizzying headache or numbness or tingling of any kind. I did sob on the night my laptop died a horrific milky death, but it wasn’t the same as a panic attack. It was a wholesome sob fest. I did hyperventilate when I found Mia’s pictures last month, but I wasn’t dizzy or tingling, just whirlingly depressed. And though that may not be a word, it seems to fit that situation perfectly. It was whirls, like when you’re mixing a thick brownie mix. Some shots of sky and thin-air places, but it was more like a slow whirling pendulum than a zipping rollercoaster. It was crying that needed to be done and pushed out. 

NOW THIS, HOWEVER. My madre. We all know her by now, you know, the one that really just doesn’t seem to like me and my existence in her castle/prison island. The other day when I got home from volunteering, my little brother called me a rather rude word and she didn’t bat an eyelash. I didn’t really care but I shot back with a random remark because I am competitive by nature, and this set her off. She was shrieking and berating me, but again, I did not really care. I had 3 tests and 2 assignments due the next day and I was tired from working House already. I smiled and said okay at the end of her spiel, and went on to my room to slave away at my homework. I thought that was it, since Izak and I didn’t really do much. He just called me a jackass, and I called him a bitch; I don’t usually use such profane language, but remember I was tired, and either way I would have called him an idiot another time and we’d still consider it banter. Izak and I did and do not care. Something must have been bothering madre, because she followed me around the house and periodically would come find me expressly for the purpose of berating me. I didn’t pay much attention, mumbling the random okay to make her think I was listening. Life went on.

TODAY. PERHAPS 2-3 DAYS AFTER THE FACT. She saunters into the living room with a smug look, trailing my dad who had just asked me to come to the living room. The two little bros sitting on the couch, ready for their punishment or whatever. She presents her story. I had screamed several profane words at Izak, her, and Derek in front of all the neighbors and their mothers and absolutely could not be calmed by my madre’s sweet harmonious words of tranquility. I shall admit it, I was laughing by then and she looked mad. My dad tried to make a lesson out of it, but I cut him off and reminded him I was the girl who wouldn’t dare make her own order at McDonalds, so how was I to raise my voice in public. Not only that, but I was also the one who most actively tried to get everyone at home to stop using profanities. He acknowledged my point. My madre started screaming again saying that I hated my little brothers and I was always targeting them and calling them horrible things and saying they were disgusting creatures that should go die. None of which is true, except for the disgusting creatures part. Because that is true. And they know it. In fact, they both see it as a term of endearment. I do not hate my little brothers, I simply severely dislike them most of the time. I do not call them horrible things because that is a waste of breath and life; I know this because I read the Phantom Tollbooth and Milo has taught me several life lessons about the importance of words and time and numbers and such. And I think we allllll know I would never tell anyone to die. it is not funny or cool or even an option to tell anyone to die. Its the worst thing you could tell anyone. So at this point, my stomach hurts. Its that black pit of fury and frustrations, and I feel it broiling in my head and belly. My eyes start leaking and after I tell my dad that he has no idea what really happened and that he can’t trust everything he hears from madre (as he should have learned by now), I begin to wheeze. I couldn’t breath, and I made noises I never made before. I ended up curled over an armchair, with my sister holding my back, and my head hanging over the edge underneath the side table and arms of the chair. It probably lasted about 15 minutes, which is a long while. I know I heard my madre start off on her “Oh she’s such a dramatic little actress” spiel and my dad telling her to grow up and act like she was my mother. When I was done, it was my sister and I and my dad left in the living room. My sister was crying, which shocked me a bit. I didn’t feel sad or afraid, I was furious. My dad gave a halfhearted speech about how I needed to sort this anxiety thing out because if I can’t handle a “simple conversation”, how could I ever hope to handle life? I stubbornly said it was because my stomach hurts and he conceded because he didn’t want me to go panic again. Then he gave me this laptop. Its cute and nice and has ridiculously amazing speakers and visual quality. The only problems with it are that it was expensive, the wifi usb keeps falling out, it will take forever to transfer all of my old files, and its not my old laptop. I do have my loyalties. I miss my sleek black hp. This one is still an hp, but its a cheery white and purple butterfly thing that I’d imagine fashion bloggers tapping away at rather than myself. It will suffice, but I think I’ll clean off my old laptop and store it away for a while to see if it would still work later on. If not, I might sell it to my sister. I don’t really want to let it go. Right now, all the keys are sticking, and I’m pretty sure theres milky residue hiding under the dvd compartment. I have some intense cleaning to do, but it shall be done. Other than that, today felt pretty successful considering all the tests. I’m just a bit down since I know my anxiety is back and I’m currently going throug the after effects of having a panic attack; slight perpetual trembling, dizzy headache, raw eyes and cheeks, cold dry nose, and exhaustion. I don’t see myself waking up before 3 pm tomorrow.

5 September 2012

>_> My sister has taught her boyfriend to call me black too. So now when they want to exclude me, they say “We’re racists, and you’re a niggah.”

My siblings are stoopids.

4 September 2012

My mom made me clean out a memory card for the camera she’ll be taking to the hospital tomorrow morning for when my sister gives birth. Rather than delete all 800 photos, I searched for another memory card. I found one from 3 years ago, and I saved all the pictures onto my computer and deleted them from the camera.

Now I’m sitting here, bawling my eyes out because there were 16 pictures of Mia on that card. I thought I lost every photo I had of her when that thief stole my iTouch. But now I have pictures of Mia, as a puppy, in the october of the year I got her. I can’t believe she’s 3 now. I really can’t. She was so small and beautiful. She was maybe 7 months in these pictures. I can’t stop crying, and I don’t think I ever will.