In this Mess I Call a Life

The past week has been foggy with challenges and obstacles that I honestly didn’t think I would handle gracefully, if at all. In-fact, if you looked on the surface, you might be appalled with the way I live my life for everything seems bad. A lot of shit went down and a lot of things went sour. Despite this, through the fog, I see happiness. I sought it and I was not disappointed.

The band has about five tempos at any given time. I’m quite tired of trying to pick a tempo to follow, and while I ought to be a “good listener” (I actually really am), I’m getting really sick of it. Indeed, I was so upset with the piece by the end of part two that I turned up past my usual limits. I can be really loud; I win, but I’m still the inferior one.

Inferiority is interesting, for me especially. Even though I finally have nearly everything going my way, the people I want to be around encircling my thoughts and life, and fun surprises around every turn, I still feel less-than-adequate. Maybe it’s just because you all are so much more incredible, or perhaps that it’s the fact that she compares me to you at every opportunity. At least I’m not compared to your failing aspects, yet.

Friendship mail is amazing. The person that invented it ought to receive a very large and long hug. Speed-bumps are awful, and unlike the happiness of some mail, I have no fondness for bumps in the road ahead of me. Yet, I’m starting to think that some things are okay, even if they’re bad. A lot of people are mad at me, for one reason or another (talk to me, please) and more have forgotten me. To most people, I’m little more than a name attached to Pit, which in itself, already has no friends. It doesn’t bother me, though. I see how happy you look and I no longer envy that. Granted, I may wish to partake in this love, but I’m satisfied with where I am right now.

Helen Keller once proclaimed, “When one door closes, another opens. But we often look so regretfully upon the closed door that we don’t see the one that has opened for us.” Frankly, I’m so sick of living behind these closed doors, waiting for old things to reopen. I have so much good that I’m just now starting to see.

I choose happiness today, and it worked, despite the mess.

Do You Realize

Why does our happiness depress us? It’s a ridiculous notion, but it’s true. We’re happy for a moment, then depressed the next moment? Does this mean we’re inertly sad with happiness being an exception, or vice versa? Perhaps it’s neither? Why does happiness make me cry?

If you want to tell someone that they are beautiful, should you? If you appreciate their eyes, is it creepy to let them know? Perhaps you feel fanciful when they wear their hair in a certain way. Do we tell them that we like it, or avoid saying anything for fear of rejection?

People talk of funerals a lot, and honestly, they make no sense to me. Why would you spout these wonderful things about people if they’re not even around to hear them? Don’t you want them to know how much you love them? Instead of all these goodbyes, should we just speak the truth? Life goes fast, and yes, everyone you know is going to die, but shouldn’t we make it count? You never know if the person you just wanted to compliment will be there tomorrow.

Would you rather me write you a requiem when you’re dead, or a love song when you’re alive?

The sun never goes down, it’s just an allusion caused by the world spinning round. Don’t regret what you can change, and don’t regret appreciating what others say. The best things in life won’t last, and honestly, shouldn’t last. This is why you appreciate what you have, who you have and never say goodbye, because you already should have.

Do you realize?


Edit: I’ve decided that this makes absolutely no sense, grammatically speaking. You know what though? I’m not going to edit it, because I like it the way it is. Not everything needs fixing just because it doesn’t fit a form.

The new mixer for the keyboard is incredible! I’m so excited to really use it when we mic the instruments for PAS, that and the fact that I’m allowed to play as loudly as I desire, there isn’t a band to worry about! The keyboard is fun and quite capable. It doesn’t bother me, and that’s a good thing. I got a monitor so I can finally listen to myself and new patch cables to avoid the fuzzy sounds that were driving me insane.

School work is finally over and my DBQ is nothing short of “pretty good for doing it a night before it’s due.” I’m satisfied though, and that’s all that matters.

I didn’t fight with anyone all day, and despite the fact that I was disenchanted with many people, I didn’t let it bother me. I’m so happy that I am friends with such amazing people.

This was superficial and shallow, but I’ve been told that’s really the way I am– I stopped pretending for a bit. I hope it makes you happy.


Self, you suck at life. Actually, I’m just kidding about that (sort of), but you are second-rate with a pen! It’s actually really funny, because you always say how much you love what you write and how much doing so means to you. I find hilarity in this, for now, I can’t even bear to read them! Even the topic, which once seemed so incredible, now seems bland and boring, not unlike your word-choice.

You are a very awkward person, self. Seriously, every other sentence, though it may make perfect sense to you, is actually incredibly awkward. Your attempt to expand your word choice is futile, for it actually just made things more awkward. Word choice is a major issue for you, as you seem to lack any knowledge of anything you try to use. Most of all, though, you’re too awkward.

Having lots of ideas isn’t a benefit, it’s a handicap. I thought you would have realized that you can’t allow yourself to think this much! You seem to allow these ideas flow like fountains, instead of the desired sludge. I’d really rather you go a mile deep and an inch wide, than the opposite. Why look at a broad spectrum when you can focus on one issue alone! Narrow fields of thought are good here. I’m trying to tell you to be more narrow-minded. Besides, this gluttony of ideas really proves to me that you have very few original ideas of your own.

One thing that’s really bothering me is your perpetual knack for starting things with conjunctions! Seriously, it’s about the most grievous error any writer can make (even though it’s perfectly acceptable in our language), and you shouldn’t even try it, unless you get smarter. I don’t see that happening any time soon; besides, no one will teach it anyway. Don’t start with conjunctions!

I guess what I’m really trying to go after is how murky your writing is. I’d surprised if you’re able to see your own feet; you’re drowning in your own poor excuse for words! Okay, occasionally you have a good idea, but no one can see it (except you, but that’s only because you know where to look), because you bury it with useless information that has no business being anywhere.

You may have done better this time, but you still can’t write. Eight may be your favorite number, but in this case, you need to learn to like ten better. Clarity is an issue, as it always has been and always will be if you can’t seem to learn from your mistakes. Conventions are alright, but still, you must realize that the grading is harsh and unforgiving; starting things with conjunctions is a bad idea, you just can’t do it.

It’s time to get over yourself. Self, I know that you usually love writing and you take pride in your work, but this is embarrassing. I’ve never considered you to be this bad, but they do. I guess this what it’s all about. Your work isn’t to be personal. What you write shouldn’t be for you. This is all about pleasing them and fitting a specific, uncompromising form. And you’re very bad at it.