I'm

...a writer, but I should have been a scientist. Not because I have an aptitude or even an interest in anything even remotely scientific, but because of the way I'm wired. Artists think with their hearts, and record, in whatever medium they do, what it says. Scientists think purely with their heads, and with the intuition that comes from the knowledge of the table
Of elements or the life cycle or whatever the hell else I immidiately forgot in science classes. But they're logical. They compare based on evidence and statistics and outweighing pros to cons. 

I'm like that. I hate the illogical. I hate when things aren't black and white but a hundred thousand shades of grey. If I didn't analyze everything from every possible angle, I'd consider myself almost childlike in my way of classifying thing. Black and white. Wrong and right. It's when left is right and right is wrong that everything gets confusing and complicated. Too much. 

That's one thing I couldn't deal with as a scientist. Something goes wrong and I shut down. That's not very professional. Writers are allowed to go three days without talking. It's a part of the creative process or some nonsense like that and maybe my future publishers will think my anxiety and nervous habits make me unique and not just weird.

Someone told me tonight that for someone that takes everything so personally, someone that uses 98% of their heart, I sure ignore it a lot. I wish that was something I wanted to work on. If the government could recreate my defense mechanisms, there'd be no terrorism. 

Kelly

I

...always said I would be jetting across the country for college. I said I'd have no connections back to Plano, that I'd start anew in some cold, non-Texan city and adjust to making new friends and the freezing weather with grace and poise. That I'd be the charming southerner without ever having to actually come back to the South.

But the truth is, as much as I loved the Northeastern schools that fit into my life plan, I changed this year. "My Give a Damn's Busted." It's harder for me to make friends than it used to be, and whether that's due to the thousands of little stresses I finally let get to me or just my utter inability to try, the fact of the matter is, UT is the best place for me now. I'll be close to home in case something happens, but I can make Austin as far as I want it to be. I'll know enough people that I wont be completely overwhelmed, but I'll have 50,000 new friends to change me even more. College is about growth. Who's to say I wouldn't run to the Northeast and become the exact same person I am now, with warmer clothes?

And then there's the whole My Two Best Friends I've Ever Had Are Going To UT Also thing. I tried so hard not to let that affect my decision, but it did. And I'm relieved. Kimberly and Allison and I have been best friends for literally longer than my memory can go back. Facing not just one change but the ten million that come with college and growing up and striking out would be impossible. And when I invariably do something stupid, they'll always be the ones to let me know how stupid it was and then remind me how much better I am than that. And when I do it again, they'll laugh and make it a nickname. And there's really nothing I'm going to need more than that next year.

"so that's that."

pieces.
kelly

Have

...you ever actually thought about a hug? Like the act of hugging another person? It's so weird. It's simultaneously the most primitive and complex way of expressing emotion without any words or sounds messing it up. Hugs probably existed before languages. When cavemen communicated with grunts and hand motions, hugs had long been accepted as a way to express love. Or even just like. Hugs are good at ambiguities like that.



Consider it. Strip away the clothes and the makeup and the general facade of everyday life and all we have left is our body. Our body that houses our brain for thinking and our heart for feeling, if you're the romantic type, and everything else for processing and moving and ensuring that we get where we want to go, when we want to get there, with no delay. Completely involuntary. Hugs have no need for medecations or remedies, they're more simple than that. One can even consider a hug a remedy in itself, atleast for abstract things like lonliness or anxiety.



It's basic. Humans want to share things, it's the way we're trained since birth. And, running the risk of sounding like a birds-and-bees talk, when you get right down to it all we can really share, all we really and truely own, is our body. Is a hug. And sometimes they're awkward, and sometimes they're unexpected, but do you ever walk away from a hug really regretting it? Of course you don't. Because at the least, a hug is a hello, a goodbye. But at the most? A hug is a declaration. I miss you, I love you, or maybe just 'I can love you'. At the most it's a promise. And when we're old and decrepit and words fail, hugs won't. Parting might, but hugs will never fail.

One Minute

Write about a way you need to catch up in your life.




I could write about how much work I have to catch up on, because I do. Not that I have a desk job with quotas, just the usual teenage English papers and science tests. But instead, I'm going to write about ketchup. I hate ketchup so much. I actually compiled a short list of foods I hate and it really spans a lot. Like...ranch. Just the smell makes me want to die. And bologna. I already distrust that food because of its sneaky spelling, but it is really just disgusting. And couscous. That one I’m not sure how to spell, but it's all we ate on the mountain and therefore I cannot stand it. Maybe I associate a lack of oxygen and ten hour hikes with tuna couscous and that's why I hate it? Whatever, it's gross. Also on the list is blackberries, blueberries, raspberries, fish of any kind, duck because that shouldn’t be eaten at all, pork "because it isn’t kosher"....that's all I can remember. This is one minute. This is all I’m writing. I'm devoid of inspiration.

Uncanny

JAIME finally let me borrow her motion city CD and now im obsessed with this. so im posting it. so I dont actually have to write anything. brilliant.

Too Close

If I stand too close
I might fall in
But if I'm too far gone
I'll never win
And if you believe in me
I might just wanna spend some time with you again


I'm afraid I tend to disappear
Into an anxious state
When you draw near
There is no reasoning
It's quite a silly thing
But it's the way I've been for years


So I will understand if you don't stay
They say I'm great at first
But then the magic fades
Into an awful hue of dismal views
And a pessimistic attitude


All this distance
Years of sweet resistance
Swirling overhead like angry clouds of discontent


I have apologized a billion times
When I've gone off the wall
Like Buster Rhymes
And pulled a stupid stunt
That left you thinking
There was something wrong with me
You've thrown a few choice phrases at my way
And I've ignored them all
As best I could
Except that tiny bit
How I just can't commit
There was some truth in what you say


All this distance
Years of sweet resistance
Swirling overhead like angry clouds of discontent


If I stand too close
I might fall in
But if I'm too far gone
I'll never win
And if you believe in me
I might just wanna spend some time with you again
I'll spend time with you again


If I stand too close
I might fall in
But if I'm too far gone
I'll never win
If you believe in me
I might just wanna spend some time with you again

Things I Wrote In Utah- pt. 2

Things always look better from 37000 feet. So high above the rest of
the people in this tangled up world. It's almost as if the only people
are you and the other passengers, and they don't even necessarily need
any attention. I always wonder about the people in the seats around
me. Right now, as I write this on my phone, the woman to my right is
reading People. Every so often she offers her kids in the seat ahead
of us napkins, or water. She skips the pages with stupid celebrity
gossip and reads the book and movie reviews. She's eating a sandwich
with onions on it. I really hate onions but I'd obviously never tell
her that. She and all her kids are wearing green for saint Patrick's
day which makes me think they're all either Irish or superstitious or
just a fun family. She ordered Chardonnay which means she's probably
afraid of flying, since it's only 3:00. Right now I'm worried she can
read this and one) thinks I'm creepy or two) thinks I'm untalented.
I'd prefer the second. Talent is so objective. Creepiness is less so.

Isn't it odd that I don't even know her name but I know she's married
to a man that drinks diet coke, she has a daughter that does middle
school theater, she's either Irish or superstitious and she likes to
read? Sometimes being observant is the same as being creepy I think.

I'm fairly confident she can't read this.

To my left is a window. I always try and get a window seat because it
calms me down. Not that I think we'll crash. I just like to know where
we
Are.

And while I'm up here
I'll just pretend
That everyone on the ground
Doesn't
Even
Exist

Things I Wrote In Utah

Conflict Averse

Everything in Utah is really bright. Usually my eyes were protected,
shielded behind the yellow plastic of my ski goggles. But when I took
my sun-and-snow-shine barriers off, everything turned this brilliant
shade of light blue. At night, even where the earth was shadowed there
was always a beam of moonlight cast onto the snow and reflecting so
brightly it might as well have been noon. But I liked the first
moments without my goggles- everything looks new and even squinting
against the sudden light it's a comfort knowing that the sun is still
there.

We went tubing. They attached us to this pulley thing and dragged
(drug?) us up a huge hill. And when we got to the top they pushed us
back down in tubes. I went careening down the slope spinning, so fast
and wild and for the thirty seconds it took to get the to bottom, so
out of control. And it was terrifying. Not because I was afraid I'd
crash, but because there are few things in my life I don't have
complete control over. And that's always been my problem- my complete
and utter need to have absolute control over every aspect of my own
life.

But when you're as conflict averse as I am, there will always be loose
ends. Because instead of asking "why aren't we on speaking terms?" ill
dance around it. I'll ask how your break was. And when you don't text
back I won't let you know how much it hurts, I'll bottle it up with
all the rest of the emotions I prefer to pretend I don't posses and
wait until you feel like cluing me in. And since that's something i
can't force, enter the lack of control that drives me insane. It's
really just a horribly vicious cycle.


This blog has so become a method of dealing with my own screwed up
emotions. Since I can't talk about it, I may as well write it.

Kelly

Ps
Hey Kevin Michael Pellicone and Jaime Ping-Ling-Shing- Cho- Chow
Cheng. Was that racist? My bad.