50 Books Re-Attempted

1. What We Talk About When We Talk About Love by Raymond Carver

2. Einstein's Dreams by Alan Lightman
3. Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood
4. Pygmalion by George Bernard Shaw
5. Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll
6. Please Don't Kill the Freshman by Zoe Trope
7. Girl Meets Boy by Ali Smith
8. No one belongs here more than you. Stories by Miranda July
9. Bitchfest: Ten Years of Cultural Criticism from the Pages of Bitch Magazine edited by Lisa Jervis and Andi Zeisler
10. Fiela's Child by Dalene Matthee
11. The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Steven Chbosky
12. Sula by Toni Morrison
13. Oedipus Rex by Sophocles
14. Annie on My Mind by Nancy Garden
15. Medea by Euripides
16. Reasons to Live by Amy Hempel
17. Grendel by John Gardner
18. Hamlet by William Shakespeare
19. A Doll's House by Henrik Ibsen
20. Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett
21. The Essential Dykes to Watch Out For by Alison Bechdel
22. White Teeth by Zadie Smith
23. Candide by Voltaire
24. The Chelsea Whistle by Michelle Tea

Writer's Block: Warning:

 Warning:

If you came with a warning label, what would it say?

 I AM NOT DEFINED, and I REFUSE TO TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR MY ACTIONS.

You're the human thing.

95% of my life has been torn from me.

I want to tell Hannah that letters are gifts- that I appreciate how much she writes to me when everyone else just says they're "too busy"- but I can't read her letter, because held up to the light through the envelope it looks short.
It looks like she's running out of things to say to me.
It looks like I'm running out of people to tell.
(Not about this thing.
Or that thing.
Just about my life.)
I would keep these parentheses open, but that nonsense is for e-mails and this is Livejournal!: Serious Business!
So, that harp player from Bryn Mawr seems like who I want to be- independent and strong. Not, some girl whose parents won't let her be near boiz (boiz because I mean "men", but men just sounds so officious.)
I'm so scared to visit! What if it's not right, when I've already made it everything I want in a college.
Now I'm tired. Now I want to go to bed.
P.S. I miss Family Unit, well more the kid they let me be.
I don't think I'll get that back. I don't think I'll ever be close to being their real true friend again.
I miss!
Fridays = longing.

All that's known is what's debatable

Our sins aren't as flavorful.

Keep them quiet, she said,
Keep them quiet.
Our sins aren't as flagrant,
Don't sing them out from your balcony.
Keep them quiet,
She said.
I didn't know the rule.
I didn't know some sins were more sinful.
Our sins aren't significant, she said,
Keep them quiet.

This love-left life

 

If you want to know who I am- look here.

If you want to see what I miss- look here.

If you want to know what she meant- look here.

If you want to see my all- look here.

If you want to know why I'm sad- look here.

If you want to see the girl I love more than I ever will again

Look.

There she is.

There she is, permanently afixed in my heart, captured in photograph.

And she is gone, miles away, at a distance I'll never diminish.

We walked together with wheelbarrows full of weeds.

My heart is sitting on the grass with her.

My heart is in all that we were, together.

My heart belongs to you.

With a heart full of wishes and despair,

-K.

Tears are not apologies.

 old dog
so prone
to sleeping
sprawling off
my bed
my feet
glance your
big dog
body and
you barely
seem to
register the
touch. old
dog you
once ran
gaily through
the playground
chasing sunshine
frightening children
you so
big energetic
alive. old
dog now
close to
dying far
from running
always sleeping
old dog
i remember
you and
celebrate.

It's one year since we split.

This is not even an actual poem, so why I am posting it in my LiveJournal?

It clearly does not make any sense.
What this technically is supposed to be, is what I would tell people if they asked me what I'm up to. But they didn't ask, and I forgot to tell them when I was writing them letters they're too busy to read.
Sigh, oh well, I won't give up so soon, because it's love, right? Or something? Can't I convince myself of this anymore? Oh I am sure I can.

So this is the update on my life no one cares enough to read.

Tomorrow I am playing midnight Ultimate with my math class. I am so excited. I love my after school math class. It is so much fun. It is so dorky.
I need to volunteer more so I can get into a good college. Like Reed, possibly. I'm disappointed at how unintelligent that girl (from the one college) was. I keep changing what I think it is I know I want.
Also, I can't stand that other girl with the greasy hair and the smelly body stealing everything I like. I want to write stories about my day to day life and Clif bars. I want someone to want to read them. I can't believe she's better than me.
And my ex best friend is still a bitch. I know she is. Why is she everyone's new old favorite. I would do anything to be liked more than her.
Now I'm very tired. I need to sleep, but I like listening to computer music. I like urban warfare and anarchy. I like people who are accepting, and not people who can't stand gauged ears.
I miss camp. So fucking unbelievably much.