Kick Drum Heart


Also known as: “I guess I guess I guess”

Here I am again; crap.

I didn’t do anything I’d planned on doing. Instead I went down to find dad in the garage, and we “jammed” while Michelle and Tara were swimming. He’s so difficult to collaborate with sometimes, without John keeping him on track. “Can we take it from the beginning?” and he keeps playing. “Can we play a song I know?” and he keeps playing.

Whatever, though. I came back upstairs after the second attempt at “Pretty Woman” and jealously played Guitar Hero Aerosmith for a while.

And here I am now, fingers skittering anxiously across the black keys, hoping for some kind of relief or peace from the thoughts and energy and nerves that keep nagging me.

Tomorrow, I’m not going to care. I guess Mitt can make all the excuses she likes about me. I need some singing, some real singing. It’s not that “Helter Skelter” and “Heartbreaker” aren’t real, but opera is so much healthier. And, oddly enough, feels more powerful at times than the blasting-belting-breaktheglass I tend to do.

So, I guess I’m done here. I’m just restless, I guess. Itchy for something to happen. I want to be busy again. Practicing on my own and writing on my own and doing projects on my own are altogether separate from doing things because of a deadline. Because I need to. Quite obviously I still need to get them done, I just don’t have a present and looming driving force right now. (My willpower hardly counts as present, or looming.)

I suppose I’ll trundle off to bed here shortly.
It’s goodnight for now.

Unless I sleepwalk myself up here in the middle of the night. And you never know about those things, either. My subconcious makes me text and talk in my sleep, maybe sleep-blogging will be next.

See you tomorrow.
…Maybe.



One day

One day
                                  it’ll all be over.

No more parties, no more xylophone, no more crazy ideas like “let’s steal the zamboni” or “how about we break into the vending machine?” I won’t be able to bitch about the early morning or walk to Timmy Ho’s when there’s nothing to do afterschool but I’m stuck there anyway. I’ll be a grown up. I’ll have responsibilities. I will have to hold down a job.

From time to time, I’ll look back on high school and think, those were the best years of my life. Carefree, unrestricted, restless and just learning how to be my own person.

I want to make the most of it.



Picking at daisy petals

I’ve been itchy and restless all day. I want to be doing something. I cleaned my room, and some of the barn, and I went roller skating on slick wet blacktop and ended up doing a split to keep from falling on my ass.

I still don’t feel productive, though. I’ve been singing throughout the day, on and off; I played a little xylophone earlier but then I couldn’t stand it because my room was simply too messy and needed to be fixed.

I need to do something! I can’t sit home and impatiently wait for exciting things to find me! But I was surprised, in lieu of my new resolution, that I’ve found myself scared– just at the thought of making things happen on my own, instead of idly picking at them. It’s so… so… not normal for me to think about blatantly telling someone how I feel, or hinting at it, or suggesting something to do. I know I can be persistent and outgoing, but I don’t know if I can take that step to be a motivating force in a situation. I guess I’m just used to having others be that force, unless it’s something basic and no one else is stepping up to direct it (i.e. group projects or what have you). This is different, though. This is my life, or at least my life as it is right now. I keep debating with myself: do I want to take this first step? Because for me, the first step is finding out if the kid on my mind is worth spending my time thinking about. But to have public rejection as the failed outcome? Hmm. Is it worth it is it worth it, is it is it is it? It’s like a mantra on repeat winding through my brain.

I hope it’s worth it, because I don’t know that I can do anything else now but find out. Even if my persistence, force, and willpower are being held captive by fear, curiosity is strutting free and confident.



Another snow day

I feel a little like writing. Maybe not just the blog today; mayve I’ll pick up a pen or a story outline and set to. Who knows?

Anything’s possible today, though… we have a snow day.

Ha, don’t think I haven’t noticed my own change in attitude toward the days off. Friday was shitty; today is marvelous.

It’s exceptionally marvelous because I mayormaynothave lost my National Honor Society folder and binder, and my voice lesson materials… they are definitely floating around here somewhere, but in all of my hectic cleaning haze, I must have misplaced them.

You know what’s excellent? I have all day to find them. I looked for them last night amidst a cloud of panic, then finally resorted to sleeping and hoping their location would come to me in a dream or hallucination or something. As it is, I did have a restless night, which is why I was up so early today, but I still have no freakin’ clue where my missing materials might be. I am cheerfully planning to conduct a large-scale search for them…. later.

I think it was the addition to something fun to my schedule that put me in a good mood. All last week it was “go, go, go”– and I honestly felt like I was the hamster in the little wheel: trying to go but simply turning round and round in the same exact place. I didn’t think I was trying hard enough, but the more I tried to push myself to get things done, the more frustrated and exhausted and befuddled I became.

But then I cleaned the house, and spent some time chilling (literally) with friends, and voila. Good mood is back again. Maybe that’s key– the friends and fun thing. If it is, though, then why am I constantly being reminded, no fun until the work is done?

Oh, well. I’m happy this morning, and once I find my runaway papers, I’ll be happy tomorrow morning, too. So bring on the snow days, I’m ready for anything.