INDIEchouette


UPDATE
4 December, 2008, 1151 am
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , ,

I haven’t updated in forever, I know.

Here’s what’s been happening.

My grandmother is a bitch.  She hates me only because I am my mother’s child, and my parents are divorced and me and my siblings all chose to live with our mother.  This means she also hates that I’m vegan and hates most every fiber of my being.  It’s not fun because if I lash out at her, I’ll get kicked out of the family tree, I think.  I am nonconfrontational and I’m also especially shy in the presence of elders, but over the two or three days I had to see her this past week, I came very close to exploding at her.

Oh, and for Thanksgiving, I went to Bethlehem, Pennsylvania instead of home.  I lived in Bethlehem for the most important parts of my child development or whatever.  I can’t navigate around to save my life, but I am familiar with it, to a certain extent.  And while Bethlehem always reminds me of sunny spring afternoons spent on the playground in our green, beautiful back yard, when I’m there now, I feel most out of place.  Bethlehem and actually most of the Lehigh Valley consists of two categories:  Old People and a few Disillusioned Young People Who Are Out Of Touch With Reality.  In Bethlehem, I am expected to be a proper Catholic girl.  I can’t be an agnostic creepazoid who loves most erryone for some different reason.  Bethlehem isn’t any fun for me because of this.  Also, I can’t make eyes at anyone there because there is nobody to make eyes at.  Richmond, there are ten million people to make eyes at anywhere you go.  Lotsa young people like me.  Bethlehem, there are not many young people, and the few young people there are not people I want to associate with generally.  They can’t appreciate my music, my literature, my style of talking or dressing.  I have a Lehigh Valley accent (whateeeever that is), but I don’t call people gay or retarded as an insult, for one.  So I’m one-of-a-kind there, but I’m also so very alone.  So lonely.  It’s the pits too because whenever I feel inspired to meet someone new or make eyes at someone, I have to go to Bethlehem.

I was, however, in Lewisburg for less than twenty-four hours.  Let me tell you how it was in one word.  Overwhelming.  Ten people in my house at once.  Not very calm.  That was an enormously busy day, and I slept heavily that night on the couch.  What am I going to do over winter break?!  I have no room!  I will have no privacy ever again!  This thought is frustrating because I so rarely have privacy here at school.

Also, finals are next week, so every time I’ve sat down to write, I’ve been distracted.  I’ll post music soon.

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PLEASE DON’T LET ME ESCAPE

My headache has subsided temporarily and I can think for a moment.  By the way, I got a killer headache earlier from playing Solitaire on the computer obsessively.

You could say that Long Beach Island was enjoyable only during the day, when I could lounge on the blanket on the sand with my iPod cranking out “Parisian Skies” by Maximo Park (which Ali supplied me with) as I stared out at the ocean and considered that the Atlantic is all that separates me from France, pretty much.  I hate the people on Long Beach Island.  Everyone’s living for the wrong reasons.  Why can’t you just kick back and enjoy how beautiful life is for a moment?  Salty air coursing through your hair.  Sand exfoliating your feet.  Being feels so healthy at the beach, yet when you look around, you just see that everyone only aims to be aesthetically pleasing, and few succeed.  I always feel overprivileged and greedy when I’m at the beach, which makes me feel extremely guilty and slightly nauseous.

I wore a bikini for the first time in ever this year.  I never wore one in years past because I was afraid of offending people with my body.  Pale, hairy, full of baby fat.  It’s a strange train of thought, I know.  I disagree with it.  But really, being bikini-ready is the least of my concerns.  I am more concerned about contentment and knowledge than I am about whether or not superficially-oriented boys will want to fuck me because of the display I put on while half-naked at the beach.  And hey.  If I was really that terribly self-conscious, I never would have bought the thing.  This is a small step towards confidence.

I read a whole lot while I was on the beach.  In fact, I covered three books.  Interview with the Vampire by Anne Rice, Survivor by Chuck Palahniuk, and Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut.  I was already a Palahniuk fan, already a Vonnegut reader, so my thirst was quenched by those two.  Survivor is up there with Invisible Monsters.  I love Palahniuk because he doesn’t give you some bullshit happy ending.  The important questions are answered by the end of the book.  That doesn’t mean all of your questions are answered, though.  I would like to call his novels “mind-fuck” and leave it at that.  Through his characters, he also takes our culture apart from the inside–not as someone judging or evaluating, but as someone who has experienced it.  And best of all, he doesn’t do sequels.  Vonnegut was stunning.  Something about his writing style made Slaughterhouse-Five a quick read.  I never wanted to set it down.  I love his commentary on religion, especially in Cat’s Cradle, but there is certainly plenty of it in Slaughterhouse-Five.  There are actually many similarities between those particular novels.  As for Rice, well, she’s wordy, but I did crave more when I’d finished reading the novel.

Now I’m reading Catch-22 by Joseph Heller.  I find it a bit more difficult and lengthy to read, possibly because of descriptions, but it’s surprisingly hilarious.  Chuck Palahniuk sometimes solicits a small chuckle from me, but this one often gets a hearty laugh.  I’m only a few chapters in, too.

Somehow, despite the fact that I have a fairly firm grasp of who I am, my cousin constantly makes me feel like the inferior laughing stock of the family, and though I usually laugh it off, I flipped out about it this time.  Just not to her face.  With the help of the people who take me seriously, I was able to cool off fairly rapidly.

Example:  She wanted to swim in the ocean.  I was wary.  When I was twelve, I was sucked off the knee-deep sandbar over an 8-foot-deep hole and had to tread water while screaming for help and trying to live.  I just remember trying to keep my head up, and wondering when the lifeguard was going to come, thinking I was going to drown and die.  Whenever I used to think about my death scene, I would think about last words and telling everyone how much I loved them, but in that death scene, there was no time for last words.  Afterward, I completely forgot how to swim and stopped enjoying the ocean.  I find nothing about that story funny, but for some reason, my family thinks it’s hilarious that I had to get a lifeguard to save me.  So flash back to this year, and everyone still thinks it’s a great one and I still find nothing funny.  I reluctantly consent to go in the ocean, and it’s fine except my cousin’s already ditched me for Rachael and as I try to catch up to them, I’m suddenly in an area where I can’t touch bottom and I start panicking, breathing hard, and flailing, but this time I can turn around and ride the waves to shore, and I’m shaking and when my cousin gets out of the water twenty minutes later (because they abandoned me), she tells me that I missed the six “hot guys” who got in after me.  Too fucking bad, right?

There’s always some criticism of my style.  Your sandals don’t match your outfit.  Or your sunglasses are atrocious.  You wear that shirt every day.  This song is stupid and I don’t know why you’d listen to it.  You sit on your ass all day at the beach.  That guy is so comically ugly; I don’t know why you like him.  You should get your eyebrows done thinner.  You look young today.  You’re the eight and I’m the nine.  You are the eight.  And I am the nine.

I am not the favoured one by my grandmother, no matter how much I resemble her.  It’s because I’m not sassy or outrageous.  Only once:  We were thirteen or fourteen.  My cousin said she liked hot guys, and I asked if intelligence mattered to her one bit.  My grandmother laughed and noted that I was the smart one.  And that’s just it.  My cousin is the conventionally hot one, and I have to be the conventionally intelligent one, no matter how hard she tries to make it seem like I’m not only less attractive, but I’m also less intelligent.  I’m just good for a ho-hum laugh and it’s all good.  But not anymore, because I’m sick of everyone laughing at me for being the weird one.  I’m sick of having to laugh at myself for being the weird one.

Today, I’m going to give you a Bright Eyes tune.  I some of my Bright Eyes on my computer, and I feel compelled to share some of it.  I enjoy listening to this one before I do something important.  And freshman orientation is tomorrow.  I hate it when people confuse the words “freshman” and “freshmen.”  I know, but it happens.  It really does.

Gold Mine Gutted | Bright Eyes
[buy] [mediafire]
[zshare] [direct link]
Bright Eyes’ Official Website
Saddle Creek Official Website

What the hell?  I’ll give you this one, too.  As far as I know, it’s Erika’s favourite Bright Eyes tune.  I personally love Maria Taylor’s heavenly voice floating over the heavy lyrics.

Nothing Gets Crossed Out | Bright Eyes
[buy] [mediafire]
[zshare] [direct link]

I have so much music I want to share with you soon.  Why do I keep seeing American Apparel ads everywhere I look?



THE SLOW FADE OF LOVE
14 May, 2008, 956 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , ,

My friend was arrested and put in jail for an alleged rape.  At first, I didn’t think much of it, except that I had a slight stomach ache.  It reminded me of the sheer anxiety I felt when I found out that Josh was arrested and put in jail, and wondering, plain and simple, why.  But unlike the situation with Josh, I knew why this friend was put in jail.  And I felt scared for him, because he might be overwhelmed, especially because of the way people will talk when he gets back to school.  He’s a joke, whether he’s innocent or guilty.  I also felt slightly angry.

If he did, in fact, rape her, then fine.  Whatever.  I’ll be angry at him for violating all morals because his penis couldn’t wait.  And I will be so sorry for the girl.  Her whole life and trust in men, ruined.

But I’m most angry about the people at school who know very little about him who are making it all into a joke.  Or they’re saying that they definitely saw this coming, or they knew something was fishy.  No, you didn’t.  Only through rumours, which you should always, always either take with a grain of salt or keep in mind but disregard.  It’s not like you ever took the time to get to know him because everyone who has lived here all their lives knows all the supposedly fact-based misconceptions about him.  I’m an outsider, yes, but I find that prejudices are built around people for little reason on small incidents.  All the skaters are potheads.  “Poor” people are Dirties and they apparently smell bad.  Half the senior class is full of alcoholics.

What I think and firmly believe probably happened was that yes, he seduced the girl into having sex, maybe, and perhaps she was a bit reluctant, but that she probably regretted the whole thing afterwards and then told her parents or the authorities that she was raped.  Sexually assaulted and raped.  Maybe it was to save her dignity as a supposed virgin.  Perhaps she told her friends about the whole thing and they harassed her to turn him in, based on misconceptions.  Maybe they called her a slut or something because they disapproved of her sex life.  Or maybe they disapproved of her sexual orientation because perhaps they are hardcore narrow-minded lesbians.  I don’t know.

Thing is, girls can do that.  The least bit of doubt about what you did, and you can turn a guy in and say he raped you.  That’s why, on one count, a guy has got to be careful about who he chooses to have sex with.  If you don’t choose someone you trust and is fully willing, then you have the potential to be screwed by the law.

And as for the girl?  I have no idea who she is.  And maybe she’s someone like me.  But I’m assuming that she knew my friend beforehand, at least several hours or days beforehand, and going into that whole thing, I’m certain that it probably seemed like a date.  If you’re going into a date with someone you don’t know very well, especially someone that charming and confident, do a group date.  Whether or not you’re on a group date, always stay in a very public place and don’t stay out to all hours of the night.  I don’t care how romantic it would be otherwise.  You probably won’t be raped.  You could probably even get away with some making out in public at Hufnagel or Kidsburg (just don’t consent to get in the Rocket Ship or any tunnel-like structure).  And if you’re not sure if you want to have sex, just say no.  The guy should respect your decision, and if he genuinely cares about you, he’ll be able to wait.  This should be common sense.

Basically, though, my friend did not grab some random good-looking girl in the Wal-Mart parking lot and force himself upon her.  Come on, now.

I am mainly freaking right now, though, because my eyebrow magnifying mirror is MISSING from my room ever since yesterday, when someone apparently swiped it from my desk in an attempt to improve the quality of their own eyebrows.  That thing is my baby, perhaps more so than my iPod.  I use it every day for a good amount of time, and I become very stressed if I can’t find it.  And I can’t find it now.  I paid eight dollars for that thing, and it is amazing.  I hate living here and being unable to lock all the doors and windows, because it means extreme invasion.  At any moment, one of my sisters or cousins could sneak into my room and take something without my knowledge or permission.  And knocking is apparently unnecessary.  If I go over there to borrow something, though, I get stared at until I leave.  It’s not like I could go over there to grab food after school or drink all their juiceboxes or chill and utilize their normal-sized television or gaming systems or whatever.  It’s all about asking and being polite for us.  Don’t get me wrong; I love my family, but sometimes…Jesus Christ Almighty, you know?

I am very tired, and I feel that this song is accurate for capturing happy nostalgia, despite the lyrical content.  This would be a shout-out time to my frennnz.  Lewisburg and Richmond.  Guess what shirt I wore today.  Just guessssss.

A Man/Me/Then Jim | Rilo Kiley
[buy] [mediafire]
[zshare] [mp3 direct link]
Rilo Kiley’s Website
Rilo Kiley’s MySpace

Here are the lyrics.  I don’t think I could really express what this song means to me any other way, really, then urging you to listen to it.  Jenny Lewis’ voice says it all.

I had one friend in high school; recently he hung himself with string
His note said, “If livin’ is the problem, well, that’s just bafflin’.”
And at the wake I waited around to see my ex-first-love
And I barely recognized her; I knew exactly what she was thinkin’ of
We sat quietly in the corner whisperin’ close about loss
And I remembered why I loved her and I asked her why I drove her off

She said, “The slow fade of love, its soft edge might cut you
And our poor friend, Jim, well, he just lived within
The slow fade of love.”

A woman calls my house once a week; she’s always sellin’ things
Some charity, a phone plan, or a subscription to a magazine
As I turned her down (I always do) there was somethin’ tremblin’ in her voice
I said, “Hey, what troubles you?”
She said, “I’m surprised you noticed.

“Well, my husband, he’s leavin’ and I can’t convince him to stay
And he’ll take our daughter with him; she wants to go with him anyway
I’m sorry I’m hard to live with; livin’ is the problem for me
I’m sellin’ people things they don’t want when I don’t know what you need.

“He said, ‘The slow fade of love and its mist might choke you
It’s the gradual descent into a life I never meant
It’s the slow fade of love.'”

I was drivin’ south of Melrose; I happened upon my old lover’s old house
I found myself starin’ at the closed-up door like the day she threw me out
“Diana, Diana, Diana, I would die for you
I’m in love with you completely; I’m afraid that’s all I can do.”
“You can sleep upon my doorstep.  You can promise me indifference, Jim.
But my mind is made up and I’ll never let you in again.”

For the slow fade of love it might hit you from below
It’s your gradual descent into a life you never meant
It’s the slow fade of the love [repeated an infinite number of times]