Never heard anyone say, "I Love You", so Coldly.

So, she sounded okay on the phone. But, then she got here. Never heard it so coldly.

What I didn't turn in:

Why I Didn't Write A Concert Report

I was sick to the stomach in 7th period, today. I was nervous, but there were no tests to fear, so it didn't make sense at the time. But, now it does. As it did, at 5:00. My mother called, at said time– she insisted that she was coming over, and that she was going to bring my sick brother some soup. Funny, how she didn't know that I had been sick; sicker than my brother; before he even contracted a mild cough and high fever, until after the fact, when my father suggested– by phone of course, and through an interpreter– that my brother had come down with whatever I'd had.
It took a moment, I imagine, for my existence to register again, with my mother. It was interesting talking to her on the phone, again, today. She used to call pretty often– sometimes twice in only one week– before our great falling-out; and it was almost like old times again, tonight. Back then, however; conversations consisted of “Has your brother eaten?” “Yes. How are you?” “-Click-” and by click, I do not mean that my mother clicked in any way – but I am rather, referring to the audible snub that followed any further attempts at conversation. I don't know exactly know how to recreate the sound of the silence that followed such calls, but I suppose you could compare it to a flat-line, on an EKG. Tonight's conversation, however, featured a all new addition– she actually waited to hear my responses– to questions pertaining to my brother, of course, but she listened, nonetheless .
I haven't even considered inquiring about the fate of the flowers; I haven't asked my brother, as to whether or not my mother ever looked at her Mother's Day present– not quite wishing to know the answer. While I have my suspicions, my brother would know first hand, having been there with my mother since mothers day. It had been longer for me, since she wasn't in the mood to grace me with her presence, on Mother's Day. In all honesty, I'm too tired to write now.
I would have related something to each of the pieces at the concert, maybe I would have even written something intelligent and heartfelt. But, I've lost my muse, and now the only piece, in that entire concert, I can think of is Northern Lights. Northern Lights, the song that I read was about the angst the composer endured after the death of his mother. Well, I've lost something, and a mother has something to do with it, but isn't quite the same as a dead mother. It's more like the angst of one who has been disowned and then expected to smile for a picture. I got her to say “I love you.”, funny; I've never actually heard anyone say “I love you.” so coldly. It was like she was saying one thing, and implying the contrary. Funny woman. I guess I'm ranting, and getting nowhere. Oh-well, my thoughts are all written in that pamphlet – my original impressions, that is, from the night of the concert, during the experience itself.
Just snapped at my father for no reason. Feel stupid and ungrateful. Should go to bed, before I think anything else.

A Fond Farewell - Elliott Smith

The Litebrite's now Black and White
Cause you took apart a picture that wasn't right
Pitch burning on a shining sheet
The only maker that you want to meet
A dying man in a living room
Who's shadow paces the floor
Who'll take you out in the open door
This is not my life
It's just a fond farewell to a friend
It's not what i'm like
It's just a fond farewell to a friend
Who couldn't get things right
Fond farewell to a friend
He said Really, I just wanna dance
Good and Evil matched perfect, it's a great romance
I can deal with some psychic pain
If it'll slow down my higher brain
Veins full of disappearing ink
Vomiting in the kitchen sink
Disconnecting from the missing link
This is not my life
It's just a fond farewell to a friend
It's not what I'm like
It's just a fond farewell to a friend
Who couldn't get things right
Fond farewell to a friend
I see you're leaving me and taking up with the enemy
The cold comfort of the in between
A little less than a human being
A little less than a happy high
A little less than a suicide
The only things that you really tried
This is not my life
It's just a fond farewell to a friend
It's not what I'm like
It's just a fond farewell to a friend
Who couldn't get things right
Fond farewell to a friend
This is not my life
It's just a fond farewell to a friend

Figure 8 Elliott Smith

I am not going to music camp this summer.
I managed to complicate things for myself, thereby screwing things up for the entire summer.
I am working on geometry, but no matter how hard I try, I always end up circling back to the same place in Math..and everything else.

Memoir Draft .75

Memoir (for English class) Draft .75, idea 4...
Yes, I'm aware of the mistakes-- they were deliberate (the majority of the time). I need some constructive criticism..

Yellow is Mama's favret colour for flowers. Trouble know this becus Trouble have alwas known this. Trouble have alwas known everthing there is to know about her. Becus that is what family is for. Renembring things like favret colours. To renembr her flowers. Mama is grownup so Trouble can count on her favrets never to change. Favrets change like clothing for kids. One minet is red. Then was red. Sometimes they dont even know what is or was anymore. Grownups are forever to remane in their ways. Mothers must never change. For a kid's sake. So it is alwas easy to renembr wich flowers to take her, when you find some peeking their blonde petels out of park grass.

This is how Trouble came to be standing before one closed end of a shut door, basket awkwardly held out in Trouble's reddening hands, and in basket, yellow flowers, partially smothered. All for she; she who would not receive them. She who would never receive Trouble. Sunday, May 9th, twenty-ten; a bright-enough day, if bright you awaited. One ghost of Helios, burnt through grey masque overcast, at one-noon, when she; for whom trouble waited; came only in the form of ghostly absence at an absent end of a table. A spectre stayed in for her, never removed her own masque of absence. Helios retired, at three-noon, to his golden palace; but left tracks, like letters to those you leave; in downy virgin-sky marks, left before lingered, blinding-chariot wheels, burnt still; as in an afterthought. Still with sufficient fury-divine to bake Trouble; to bake flowers, until they leaned over, smothered on top of their sisters and brothers; in the tire scented confines of a whale-belly van.

She never showed. Masques had resigned their spectral forms to lower elevations. Mystified still, not only mental mist, common babble, there was the unfortunate date to add to the list; fog lingered too. When Trouble was younger Trouble used to pretend that Trouble was a messenger, Hermes bridging the chasm; restraints of verbal language; communicating with small-world inhabitants. Trouble used to send messages, warnings, peace-offerings; from she, queen of household (to whom Trouble was born, bound to serve) and queen of multitudes-- ants, shifters, shakers of Earth herself. They built palaces from nothing, plain clay Earth, and moulded and maintained their tunnels, from a hole in the back-yard fence, to she-- Earth's-- molten core. Trouble the importance of maintaining good relations. If not maintaining face with Trouble's own monarch, how insignificant Trouble's role in their world truly seemed, how they could, on she— queen of ants whim, devour all, Trouble's queen and yellow flowers Trouble picked for her, wipe our race from she-Earth's own clay face-- just like Trouble's queen did with her moist blue cloth. The cloth removed smudges from Trouble's brother's baby face, and went on to kill half of the queen's race. And Trouble had only just begun to feed them some of her lunch.

Mama. She made a big mistake with Trouble. She was a Mama. Before she ever wanted to be. That is when Trouble came. Trouble came and took without giving. Came to take what she was giving. She made Trouble living. With tears in her child eyes. Trouble used to think all kids were born for a reason. Used to believe that god gave Mamas' a gift. Now Trouble knows that Trouble was one. A gift of living, shitting, high-pitched singing, slip lipped, being. Trouble used to believe in god, then she hit Trouble, while Trouble was still kneeling, praying for forgiveness in tongues-- from anyone, dear god, dear pity, dear mother. What happened was de-nerving, breath knocking, heart throbbing in Trouble's head slow, eyes screaming. Then numb. To be honest, Trouble found Trouble received no acceptance from anyone else.

Trouble's brother can walk, can baby talk, speaking in a language that adults can not. Trouble understand every slippery word he says, half slobber, half angels still reluctant to leave him in peace. A cricket is dead. Therefore, Trouble must offer it to her queen, queen Earth herself, friendly ant queen; it is all her work here that Trouble'm seeing, her labours for Trouble's living sin. Her disciples cleanse Earth and feed their masses; taking anyone dirty or clean. Some day they will take Trouble, and Trouble will belong to Earth, Trouble will belong to someone, something, accepted-full for Trouble, at length's last. In yellow Earth, she forgives Trouble, beneath yellow flowers in park grass. While beneath Trouble's baby brother's baby butt, beyond reach of his baby talking, beneath the linoleum pattern, tread light, by Mama's delicate skirted waist; beneath Trouble's own Earth-stained fingers and grass dyed knees; there are creatures greater than myself, shifting she-Earth, under her feet. Mama loves Trouble's brother. So she said. So she lied. Trouble became surrogate mother. So she left Trouble; two worries behind. Yellow flowers burn Trouble's eyes. Mama's gone for find her second childhood. So, Trouble pretends, Trouble've got things figured fine. For the sake of a kid.

Mama told Trouble; love god, child. Then, love your mother. She told Trouble how now she wished, she could start again at an earlier time, to do as she said, as she expected of Trouble. She said, how could you do this. She cited all she could have been before “you”, all “I couldn't do” but for you. Trouble said, “Trouble'm sorry too.” But, remember, it wasn't Trouble's decision to be born just when Trouble did to existence. She hit Trouble hard, and all spun, and Trouble fell through. Earth caved in, flowers too. Trouble fell into cavernous caves of hell, all made ready for Trouble, by Trouble's beloved queen. As Trouble's eyes spun into zeros, in Trouble's greyish sockets; she watched as they took Trouble back to the perfect state Trouble began in, one atom at a time, in tiny grey pieces. Trouble's brother loves Trouble's mother. Trouble's mother loves her son. Trouble's mother never had a daughter. As concerns a mother, Trouble believes she might have had one. But, like Father Christmas, like god of sin forgiveness, like the myth of kinship, the good of self; Trouble added Mama to her collection of those things she once believed, that were falsely delivered.

The flowers wilted, the sky shed a million shades of grey-blue; the variances of one inconsistent moon remained an iridescent reminder of how time passes, in silence. In time, Trouble grew into Trouble's own shoes, it compelled her to attempt making peace with mother, for once. After being called Monster, and other things she deliberately forgot; she invited mother over to mother's day brunch. Mother of Trouble never showed. Trouble made the journey to mother's house; though she knew already her mother had gone, the moment she heard of Trouble's coming. This is how Trouble came to be waiting the closed end of a long shut door, with flower's she knew to be of Mama's favourite colour. If Mama did forgive Trouble, she never made it known. Some mystery remains, rooted somewhere in whale-belly confines of Trouble's troubled mind; wonders, as to whether or not she ever did see those yellow flowers. Wonders--- as to whether Mama ever knew my favourite colour.

วันแม่

What I wrote in the Forum:

Posted: May 9, 2010 - 10:15 pm

Bipolar Mother's Day

Question: I need a song that will convey a message of forgiveness and apology to my estranged mother, and any suggestions would be greatly appreciated. So, do you know of any good songs for forgiveness?

Background:
So, my mother and I are both bipolar-- and a few months ago we had a major falling out. Today, rather than see me for mother's day, she offered to work at her friend's new restaurant-- and she fled her house as soon as she found out I was still (despite her having said that she couldn't go with us to mother's day brunch) coming to give her mother's day flowers. So, I didn't get to give them in person.
My step-dad says that she is still hurt over what happened when we had our big fight, and I'd suspected this to be the case, despite her seeming pretty kosher around me in the few occasions in which we were in the same place at the same time, but there were always a bunch of other people involved then. She seemed less than warm on the phone today, when I finally got her on (with my step-dad's help-- he handed her the phone, and told me she was still within speaking distance, which indicates to me that her animosity over our relationship has been affecting parties apart than the two feudal ones, i.e. the two of us). I suspected that it was time of month, since she hasn't been as short with me on the phone since the aftermath of our initial falling out. My step-dad cited another range of possibilities-- for one, the sad date;namely mother's day. Then, also she was a bit ticked about having been invited to brunch with the other side-- meaning my dad's side-- my side-- of the family; even though she has been fighting a one sided battle, seeing as she's been the only one to throw any punches, while this side (aside from myself) has been trying its best to keep the peace between the two families, even whilst having to bend over backwards to accommodate her--- speaking through an interpreter, for example, the interpreter being my step-dad, who unfortunately must face the heat of my mother, while attempting to pass simple communications from one side to the other. My mom doesn't want to associate herself with this side of the family, since she feels that my father somehow; in raising my brother and I, without any help from her; embittered me against her, caused her to sprout gray hairs, and managed to be the cause of every one of her perceived problems-- from the weather, to a hangnail, to her outrageous phone bills (none of which has anything to do with my father or us, and her phone bills especially, since she never calls here).

Enough of my ranting.
Basically, I just want to keep the peace now, and since she isn't mature enough to toughen up and endure the company of her ex-husband, her eldest daughter (me), and (the one who made reservations for the traditional mother's day brunch) my sweet 95 year old grandmother (who loves her dearly, and is hurt by my mother's sudden aversion to her); well, then I'll be the grown up, and I'll be the one to go out of my way to make peace with her.

I'm 15 years old, so it's high time I took some more responsibility for her-- and I can't allow this animosity to continue to hurt individuals on either end of the conflict-- I'd really like her to reconcile herself with my grandmother, and I'd love to see my newest baby brother, who will grow up without ever having known me-- the first person he saw when he came into this world.

I have seen the power of music, and believe in the healing powers of art.

Do you have any suggestions for songs I might sing, and send to her, in order to seal and immortalize my apology?

I need something she can hear, a song that would convey my message of "please forgive, I don't expect you to forget it, and I know I've done wrong, but I'm completely open to being friends again, and I'm willing to forget any bitterness on my part to the best of my human capacity. I just want to be friends, and it's okay to feel hurt, it's completely understandable, but it only hurts everyone much more when we stay bitter and hurt, and I think to forgive each other would be of benefit to all.." and maybe even something she feels is worth listening to. Any suggestions? Any input is highly appreciated.

แม่

What I wrote, in the forum:
Posted: May 8, 2010 - 9:52 pm

Freak Out

I've managed to miss about half of the school year, due to illness. I'm also late to school every day, because I can't seem to wake up or move in the morning, partially due to insomnia, partially because I completely zone out-- and I mean, I'm not there AT ALL, every few minutes-- and this means I could be pulling on a shirt at 6:20, and then I'll blink and it's 6:40, and I've got the shirt half way over my head. It's not like I chose to daydream, I just randomly zone into this state of total vacancy when I'm tired. Then, I'll feel sick to the stomach, and my dad will be furious because I've missed the bus, which means I make everyone late, because he has to drive me to school, and due to my slowness in the morning and all my minor crises my dad might not have a job any time now, since they're still doing cuts to the schools. Basically, I'll break out in hives due to school anxiety and my sensitive skin, and mornings give me tension headaches which often morph into migraines, and I'll walk into my first class late, and wish I could disappear, but everyone thinks that I think I'm the shizz, that I think that I can do anything I want, and my teachers must feel I have no respect, since I never show up on time, and I don't really deserve any of their respect in my opinion.
Everyone at school dislikes me, and this normally wouldn't phase me, but now I just don't want to show my face anywhere, because I've been late so many times, and everyone seems to think that I like the attention, but I hate it. People all are convinced that I'm a drug addict because I act like I'm stoned when I'm tired, and I act like I'm tripping out when I'm having one of my many anxiety attacks. Basically, they all know, and I know, I don't belong there, and the teachers have no reason to care for me now, and I feel like I've let the world down, and I've got so much work to do right now, I can't even begin to face it. I can't even kill myself, because tomorrow is mothers day, and even though my mother chose to help work at a friend's restaurant on that day so she wouldn't have to spend it with my side of the family, and she chose to go to a movie with my brother yesterday instead to escape the guilt of not doing something for herself on mothers day weekend. So, basically, my grades are shizz, and I really can't see them getting any better, because whatever I say I've done by now really they have no reason to listen, since I've screwed up and managed to lose any credibility I ever had, and I really feel like shizz and I can't seem to tell myself it'll be okay ever with the way it always is with me. I just can't face my work, or failure. I don't want to be me, and I never really have been. I just want people to forget who I am, and I want to erase everything I've ever said or done and just disappear. I think of suicide obsessively, though I know I'd never want to hurt myself while it could still hurt someone else. When my dad and grandmother are gone, I don't really plan to live with myself. My mother really wouldn't hate herself for too long, because I'm sure my younger brother would reassure her that she's worth it, even though I raised him myself, when she left us both to go and be a kid.
Now she's got my new brother, and I love her and I love him too, but I can't help but wonder how long we'll get along this well, and well, to be honest, I can't really ever trust her again.
She gets these insane ideas into her head, and then she believes them, and the worst part is she is so good at embedding them into herself, that people believe her when she tells her lies. She believes all she says, as far as most can tell, but when I caught her up in her own contradictory tales, I see a flicker of fear or doubt for an instant.
We had a falling out two months ago, and that's when I really began to screw things up for myself, and my health declined, at least in my head.

I've got so much work to do, I've made such a mess of things, I can't even bear to see myself in the mirror. I've got so much that I have to do before tomorrow, but I just can't because I have no will or motivation or brain or responsibility or a mix of all of the above. I just really want to curl up in a ball and implode upon myself, but about two hours ago, I was floating on cloud nine, and I hate to enjoy myself these days, because I've finally learned the meaning of "sine wave". Basically, I've got my crest and my trough, and right now I hate them both, because I'm depressed and have a tension headache. I really don't want to worry my dad.

Delerium - Angelicus

Don't know quite what to make of it. It feels powerful. Beautiful in it's own way. It feels so real, and yet, nearly video-game-ish all at once.

Raphaël Haroche- «La Mémoire des Jours»

My heart breaks from the very first note.

Mes Favoris

Memorable Quote: This song is self explanatory...but, for those of you who aren't familiar with mythology, "Mephistopheles is just beneath, And he's reaching up to grab me" is referring to a Faust legend (appropriate, if you think of Faust Arp), one of the seven princes of hell. So, basically, he is just the devil reaching up to grab, our dearest, Thom Yorke!


Memorable Quote: This one is about mental illness in general, alluding to Kurt's own illness, of course, in the title alone "Lithium"-- being a drug used to treat bipolar (manic) depression. This especially rings true for me, being bipolar myself. The words needn't all be profound, but they're effective in conveying the general feelings experienced by bipolar individuals. Love it all, so here is the very beginning, "I'm so happy 'cause today, I found my friends, They're in my head".


Memorable Quote: This one is poetic and ambiguous from the very first note, to the last. Elliott Smith was a genius, and his lyrics hold new meaning every time I hear this song. This is just one scene in the song that struck me as interesting. "This is the place where time reverses, Dead men talk to all the pretty nurses, Instruments shine on a silver tray, Don't let me get carried away..."


Memorable Quote: Mann, this is a tough one...every line is meaningful! So, I'll just give the first in the song...
"The sun came up with no conclusion." - Bright Eyes


Memorable Quote:
"I was in love with the place.." -Sufjan Stevens. God, what doesn't he attack in this song? There it all is; concepts of home, love, loss of innocence, leaving, being alone, growing up, mortality, loosing touch, youthful wonder, wanting to let go of life-- i.e. suicidal thoughts-- when he cries in the van with his friend, god, surrender to fate, so many things. Actually, it can mean whatever you want it (or don't want it) to mean. It's just one of those multi-purpose songs that molds itself to the listener's mind and life. It's really got infinite meaning...


Memorable Quote:
"The people that you love, they change, when you leave them behind." -Lhasa


Memorable Quote:
"I was rising up, Hitting the ground, and Breaking." -Lhasa

No Sleep, No Place

Funny how little things can raise me up and drop me down. I was having a productive weekend. Now, I want to cry. I can't though. There's something fundamentally wrong with me. I just don't know what it isn't.
Dad got mad, because he doesn't spend enough time with my brother.
He said it was my fault.
My fault, for being so time consuming, so needy, having so many things to do, making him my taxi cab.
He said he ALWAYS spends time with me, but never with my brother. But, he got mad when I cited the fact that just last night, it was he who told my brother to shut up, while forcing me to watch a 2 hour long bore, that even he had trouble staying awake through. Then, in the morning, when I still managed to drag myself out of bed, only because I knew I had some work to do, he made me watch yet another movie, on the same damn guilt trip.
Then, I didn't get to do my math before going to the English thing, to which Dad begrudgingly drove me. Then, he complained the whole way about having no time for my brother. I apologized. No response.
I wondered about how much easier life would be for him without me.
I figured significantly.
Then, I felt awkward as hell at the book fair. Only my friend Meghan's own notion of being out of place dwarfed and downplayed my own. I never feel right in groups.
I talked too much, as always, and listened too little. I wanted to shut myself up, but couldn't.
Then, dad stalked me about the store, like a lost puppy, and guilt tripped me home.
I was too euphoric, from nothing much other than having some friends to make me laugh, to feel too burdensome.
Funny, how dad wasted his morning forcing me to watch a movie that was good, when I was trying to do my math homework. Funny, how he was mad at me, because he'd spent no time with my brother. Funny, how after the euphoria of the concert, when I got home; they were both so hostile towards their unwelcome guest-- myself.
Their movie was on so loud that it rattled the strings on my bass. Forget sleep. So, I didn't take my melatonin, and now, I'll be up for at least another two hours--- there goes tomorrow. So, I wont pass Geometry.
So, I wont edit my paper.
My brother is vomiting in the next room. He's got the cough I had last week, but not quite as deep as I did.
I glared when he peeked in my door, but when he left, the fire ran out of my head, and I ran after him to help in my cold way. I wish I could take back the cough that I gave, take it all back, and then just leave.
This rage should not be directed at my brother. Dad kept me up two nights, and then blamed me for this. Yet, somehow, I feel stupid, trying to pin this on him. The true trouble originates with the troubled.
I haven't eaten dinner or lunch. My stomach is tied up in knots, and I feel no hunger.
Just tucked my brother in bed with a heating pad.
I want to make noise just to piss off my dad, since he's already fucked it up for me for the next week; and there's only so many days left of school. Now, I can't go to camp. Now, I'm pretty sure I wont make it through the summer. I just hate everything. I don't want to be living.

Purpose

Two weeks ago, I was diagnosed with the following:

1. Bipolar Disorder (also known as "Manic-Depressive Disorder")
2. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (also called "OCD")
3. Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD)

Aside from the new diagnoses-- I have also lived with severe ADHD, seizures, and now-- Lungs that love to give me hell whenever it's least convenient.

So, I am here to record my thoughts, through out the struggle...and that's about all!