Nothin

I haven't blogged in a while.

And I'm not gonna apologize to anyone but myself, because this isn't just some sort of serial for someone to read and follow along with the story.
No, this was intended to be for me. A place where I could actually express myself since I have so many issues doing that on my own.

I wish I had been blogging more, however. Because it really was starting to help me see how things relate to one another, how words can be the most and least expressive modes on the planet. For us humans anyway.

I just read City of Glass by Paul Auster. I had read Oracle Night last summer for summer reading, and just loved it. Didn't know why I loved it or anything, but I did. City of Glass is actually a graphic novel that I found at my sister's house and got super excited about because it was a graphic novel by Auster, and thought that my English teacher might like to see it. But of course I never got around to reading it over the year so I never showed him.
But I finally read it on account of self-banishing myself to my room over the past couple of weeks in order to avoid more people screaming at me. And I read it. It was...amazing.
I really do think that my English teacher would like to see it if he hasn't already. Because it would fit just perfectly into the curriculum.
I really like that a few months ago, maybe a year or so, I would have been so confused by it. I would know it was good, but think that some of the more modernist elements in it were just weird to be weird.

Thank God I read Faulkner...

read was the only word in that sentence that wasn't capitalized.

I feel really bad about the promise that I made. I said that this would be the best summer ever. But I've just been too depressed and moody and stupid and angry and whatever to do anything about it. All I've done was be pissed off about little things that don't really matter in the long run. I should just be happy. I should just be grateful. And believe me, I am. But I still can't help feeling a bit selfish in that I'm not getting the most out of everything.

And yes I know that I am being vague.

But that doesn't matter to me because I'm writing this for myself.

I'm so damn tired of getting guilt tripped just about once a month. Seems to be on quite the schedule though. But whatever. She may love him, but I don't. I say "I love you" because there's nothing better to say. But I know that that isn't what it is. And I don't need to repeat that whole rant, that whole philosophy again.
But really, it isn't some set thing, and it's not fair for anyone to compare it. You can't say "I love you more" or "I love you unconditionally" and say that someone else doesn't. You can't be inside of someone's head.

I just wish I knew more about what was actually going on. I wish I could actually say that I completely believed that all of those events happened so that he disappeared for a few extra hours the other day. And I wish I could actually believe him on why the condom was suddenly gone right after that. I'm not saying that he's lying. All I'm saying is that I have trouble believing it.

I can put events together too.

I may seem like a bumbling idiot, and I may be one some of the time too.

But I can piece things together as good as anyone.
Perhaps more.

Blog

I really feel like I should have something to say.
And I know that I do, but I don't know if I want to say it, of if I could phrase it just right, or if it's something that I could even put into words.

It's probably not.

But at the same time, I'm probably just a coward.

I really wish I could have a moment where I could just feel purely happy. But it seems like there's something that's always weighing me down in some way. I know I've been close...but then again what the hell is happiness anyway? How do I know that I haven't been "happy" if I've never felt anything stronger? Maybe "happiness" is just feeling good for a while. Maybe it doesn't mean that you have to feel completely carefree or whatever, or else it would be called carefree. I'm always going to feel guilt, or anger, or sadness, or something like that because those seem to be the emotions that follow me around all the time.

But then why does the word "happiness" even exist? Isn't it supposed to be some purely good emotion? Something that isn't just "careefree" but something more?

The word exists because you can't describe it. It was made by people who can't feel it, or who haven't felt it. It's like love. I really don't like words like that. Happy, love, hate, whatever. Some "strong emotion." If it's so strong then why do we need a word for it? It's for those of us who don't know what it is. The word is it's description.

I had a clarinet recital and then my family got into a fight.

There are always things like that that happen to me all the time.

The recital actually went really well. But then we didn't get ice cream.

I got through the piece and didn't mess up too badly. That doesn't always happen. I was pretty proud of it. But I didn't get any kind of "good job." All that I got was a lecture about my conversation skills.

And of course there's the guilt. But we all know that story.