HURT: Ten Ton Brick

A ten ton brick was making me sick
Breakin' my bones with the weight of it
The weight would grow with each new soul
Buried fine lies make big, black holes
And who am i supposed to be?
Not like you'd give a fuck about me.
But who am I supposedly?
When I'm finally done.
But I'm finally done with the decisions of my former thoughts
And all that i may have loved
Yeah, i'm finally done with the descriptional
And i don't mind sayin' i'm to blame!
When atlas slipped i lost my grip
Yet, i didn't think it could turn into this
But i was told by two sweet crows
Nobody feels what nobody knows
And who am i supposed to be?
Everything good was taken from me
And who am i supposedly?
I was overcome...
But i'm finally done with the divisions of my former thoughts
Although i may have lost
I'm finally done with the dissention now i don't mind sayin'
I don't mind sayin i'm to blame!
Oh, this ten ton brick would treat me like shit
This little piggy licked others lips
And so defined, who was i
But it won't encumber me.
'cause i'm finally done with the positions of my former thoughts
And all that it may have cost
But i'm finally done with my decisions
Love and now i don't mind sayin'
Don't mind sayin'

I am the one to blame.

Untilted

I like the words you say when you lie to me.
When you tell me that I am wrong,
that my faith holds no meaning,
that I will be good without it.
I am nothing.
If you open your eyes,
you will see.
Open your heart to the possibility,
the fact,
that I am so un-perfect.
Stop feeding the denial in your heart.
Stop believeing what is easy and for once,
entertain the idea that that life does not make sense,
that good is not always the triumphant,
and only death and failure
are certain.

by Kate Caretto

Let me ask you this- Is it worth it to wait for perfect? Is there such a thing? Will I ever find it?

What is ok to compromise on? I don't think I can compromise on what makes me who I am. My passions, my desires, my dreams, my religion; should I expect him to believe in and care about these things, or is it enough for him to tolerate?

And when everyone says that I deserve better, do I forfiet what is "good enough" to search for something better? Is it possible to find someone better?

I don't believe in perfection, I don't believe in human goodness, in the goodness of human nature. Do not tell me that my God is not sufficient, or that He asks too much of me. Do not tell me that I give too much to my God, or that I should ignore the wisdom of my God. Do not tell me where to find happimess, or where I will find fullfillment, or that you are the answer to all my problems. My problems are beyond you, because you do not understand my struggles, my insecurities, my depression. When I try to voice my heart, I am shot down by the storm of your own heart.

You have to love yourself if you ever want to love me.
You have to realize that this is not just about you,
not just about your feelings.
And if this is about eternity...
Fuck that shit.

and it pisses me off beyond belief that you will not even care enough to read this

one more thing to say-

hillary better not win

Why is it that we care so much? What makes people become in-tune with the feelings of others and have it affect us? Sometimes these feelings and emotions of others can completely take over our own emotions that result from inside ourselves. Is it good to be this concerned about others? There must come a point where it will wear a person down, but this point must come at different times for different people. Can emotional overload be compared to a glass that overflows? How much will our concerns help the target person?
And it seems like we never notice when someone cares about us. It's not like money, that can be passed between individuals as payment or a measure of worth. It is invisible, sometimes tradgically unfelt.
And then there is the point of numbness, when we no longer feel the same in response to another's pain. Where it has become an everyday occurance, or a way of life that no longer fights for our attention. When the feelings are so common and familiar.
And the same is true for the reciever of concern, when the support and care is not enough to block out the feelings anymore. The drug has become ineffective, the drink not strong enough.

There must come a point where I really don't care anymore. Where I no longer care what other people stress about, because it makes me stress out too. When I know that there really is nothing I can do. When I know to let go. To stop caring because I know it will just hurt me. When I can stand up for myself and not be brought down by guilt and feelings of failure.

How much personal feelings does the world need? Is it possible to run the world without social capital, without integrity, without debts except for those in concrete froms of measure, without love..., without trust, without sense of family or friendship, or if they exist, that they have no effect on how the world turns, without empathy or sympathy? If we say the world turns on money, there is no reason for values such as these. And it seems that people are losing the values that are not essential to life. (But what about quality of life, you ask, and they will answer; I just need a few more dollars) The road may be paved in gold, but what worth is the journey when there are no flowers (and I don't mean silk flowers) along the roadside? Where will your road of gold lead you?

The Offspring: Gone Away

Maybe in another life
I could find you there
Pulled away before your time
I can‘t deal it‘s so unfair
And it feels
And it feels like
Heaven‘s so far away
And it feels
Yeah it feels like
The world has grown cold
Now that you‘ve gone away
Leaving flowers on your grave
Show that I still care
But black roses and Hail Mary‘s
Can‘t bring back what‘s taken from me
I reach to the sky
And call out your name
And if I could trade
I would
And it feels
And it feels like
Heaven‘s so far away
And it stings
Yeah it stings now
The world is so cold
Now that you‘ve gone away

I can not believe how much my life has changed, and I keep wondering if I am the only one who notices this. Am I just spinning in one place inside of myself or do others see that I am not stationary? I am in need of good literature and time to read it. I am in need of something longer, for sure, and tangible. I am in need of no worries and I life that I can live for everyone the same. I am in need of something that will let the words form beyond the recognition of my own brain and allow me to speak them to you in all honesty and freedom.

How do I know of turning points in my life? Should I accept such sweet invitations, or are they merely sugar coated? Is there more growing up to do? When do I recognize these things and if they are true and right? The biggest problem is knowing who to believe. Deciding who is the person to follow who will lead you to the straight path. Why must people insist on what you should do if they are only looking out for themselves? Does anyone really know someone well enought to be telling them how to live their lives?

I don't think it is wrong to make choices and sacrifices in your life to better the life of someone else. I believe it is admirable to give in order for others to recieve, to not be selfish and to think of others before yourself. What I want really holds no meaning in my life. Fulfilling my desires and dreams will not make me a better person.

What is desire? What is good desire and should it be sought/satisfied?

Do certain things have meaning if you yourself do not place meaning on them?

WHY CAN'T YOU HEAR ME SCREAMING????

Traits of creative people:
1. wonder and be curious
2. be open to new experiences
3. see the familiar from an unfamiliar point of view
4. take advantage of accidental events
5. make one thing out of another by shifting its function
6. generalize from particulars in order to see broad applications
7. synthesize, integrate, find order in disorder
8. be in touch with one’s unconscious, yet be intensely conscious
9. be able to analyze and evaluate
10. know oneself, have the courage to be oneself in the face of opposition
11. be willing to take risks
12. be persistent: to work for long periods-perhaps years-in pursuit of a goal

Why?

Because I saw a part of me in you,
I part of me that I wanted to
protect and understand.
Because I wanted to please you
in every way.
I wanted for (you) to be happy;
to not hurt anymore.
Because I wanted you to love me
completely,
and more.

Because it just didn't matter anymore.
Nothing really matters anymore.

Caroline's Spine: Unreal
for Jon

I've come to feel when you're constantly changing roads
it's hard to know which way is right.
It gets a bit colder when you're down ten feet below
with no conclusions
no end in sight.
So I hold this:
we don't ever walk alone.
You can't stay here on your own.
And I know you are
the only one who can make it right
when it isn't right.
And I know you are
the only one still preoccupied
with all your "if I did" and "maybe she might."
You beg and you borrow
like some ordinary soul.
There's nothing to see here tonight.
Until tomorrow,
after all your cameos,
there's nothing to see here.
And I know this:
we don't ever walk alone.
You can't stay here.
And I know you are
the only one who will make it right
when it isn't right.
And I know you are
the only one still preoccupied
with all your "if I did" and "maybe she might."
Life is so unreal.

Static

Black as rum, white on top,
tan for you, in a double shot.
A hammer for a fly,
a fox on the sly.
Stop, drop and roll,
red handle, waiting for you to pull.
Steel guitar, dead baby in a cradle,
comfort ma; tell her a fable.
Click, click, clack, snap,
popcorn for a midnight snack.
Junie B. Jones has no home,
E.T. must call, but has no phone.
Lipstick on a collar, wine on a cuff,
heart-shaped box holds no more love.
Bermuda triangle, a honeymoon dream,
early morning coffee, milk the cow for cream.
Bullitts in the fire,
shoulda shot higher.
Shine from a diamond, dull as a knife,
sacrifice all that glitters, for the golden life.

By Kate Gubert

http://mintypics.com/Hurt%2010-4-07.html

Today is the day you took her away
and hid her in a glass sphere.
Lavender and honey consumed
as you examined her willingness.
Tassels and pom-poms shredded,
the confetti falling to the sky.
Turkish ashes smolder on painted toes.
Enter her mind through your eyes.

by Kate Gubert

Compliments:

http://www.madsci.org/cgi-bin/cgiwrap/~lynn/jardin/SCG

Will my death be painless?

I wonder...

as I lie here in anguish,

twisting and writhing

in the most unexplainable emotional pain.

To believe that there will be no beginning.

Seduced by those eyes...

those piercing, honest eyes.

(Where did you learn to look at someone like that?)

And though I wish I could,

I know that I do not know what is behind those eyes.

I take solace in the knowledge that

I fell in love with your music first...

the lyrics that speak of my heart's desires

(though I am sure that I am not the only one.)

The vocals that never grow tiring,

that never cease to make me cry,

words that heal and break.

Yet I cannot stop listening.

And I cannot stop the thoughts of you,

the glance of your eyes and

the melody of your voice,

and how my words are not enough.

Is this the hope that will be lost?

lost before it has even begun?

To know that these pains mean nothing more than feelings,

that feelings are nothing more than emotion,

to somehow forget...

To know that your love will never be mine...

is my hurt.

Truth is...
I'm scared of making another hopeless attempt.
I'm afraid that I will fail, after investing all my strength.
I don't want an ending, so I will never begin.

Truth is...
I try not to be pessimistic,
and I can't be optimistic,
So I must be a realist, as it goes.
And I must be crazy too.

Truth is...
I can live without you.
I can do anything on my own,
But I really,
Really,

...

I found some places I'll have to check out. Turns out I coulda seen Hurt without driving to Flint. But oh well. I kinda miss that place. And it was cheaper for a ticket.

http://www.sectionlive.com/

http://www.orbitroom.com/

Maybe I should rephrase that... Who is John Galt to you?

To me, I know who he is even though I haven't finished the book (yet).

But I could (and will) just as easily ask: who is Tom Buchanan to you?

To me, he is careless, soul-less, bruteish, despicable, self-interested, and absolutly vital to the story (whether that story be the Great Gatsby or life).

I guess, do you really think of characters in books as real people or as representations of groups of people? people you know? you? depends on the book?

Who is your favorite character? why? are they representational of someone/something?

Or maybe it is just in the asking that our question is answered by a void of an answer. Maybe there is no John Galt to you. Maybe he does not mean anything to you. Just as asking why some people are the way they are. There is no answer that would be correct. Who are you, or I, to know who John Galt is. Even in a book where someone has created him, even she may not even know who he is entirely. Maybe it is best if we do not know. Maybe it is best if all we do is ask questions, even if we don't get answers.

I think the best questions are those without answers.

I feel like posting something. I don't really know what to say because I don't have my journal in front of me. Isn't that sad? I cannot think about my own thoughts unless I can read them from a book. Well, for one thing, school is going well. Classes are fun. Biology is my favorite, but math is ok (just kinda feels like high school), Government and Politics is good for me (yea! I read The Nation The National Review and U.S. N&WR), and Art is really fun. We made mobiles yesterday from sticks and coathangers and wire and nuts and bolts and cardboard. I am thinking about walking downtown, except I don't really know if I want to walk through those neighborhoods to get to it, or if it is too long of a walk. Maybe I can figure out the bus schedule. Words of Wisdom for the day: Steak & Shake does not know how to make malts. Other mile markers on my calender: I am going to the Machine Shop and I am going to Chicago and I am going to Maine. Oh yeah! And I need more chocolate. Don't ever get put in Hruby. I am in the dorm for mentally unstable, gay, and antisocial persons. And those are only the ones I've met. The world is a scary place inside this little jail. I need chocolate. Wait, I already said that. Ok, we're on a mission for chocolate...


Who is John Galt?


Should I dye my hair black?