places to go and people to see

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

But 'm not tired.

I'm  actually often not sleepy, even at eleven or later. I'm used to staying up til about one, even on school nights. Shh, don't tell. I can still get there just fine, though I might be a little sleepy. Poiiiint is, I know I'm gonna be up for a LITTLE while (I'll try to sleep soon I promise) but for now I need something to do. Maybe for half an hour or so?
I'll just have to think.

Monday, October 29, 2012

ok so this is off topic from like everything but

if anons leave comments (and it's someone i know), i would appreciate it if you had your name somewhere in the comment (unless it's incriminating and/or you just aren't comfortable saying who you are - in which case, say so! i don't judge for stuff like that). i'm putting a lot of trust into my readers by letting you leave comments anonymously, and it would make me feel better.
so yeah i'll go back to whining now.

i have a writing blog.

and i think much of my posting will happen over there, because here on mylifeisnotaship i feel contained to para form, and freeform verse lets me whine better.
the url is if you care.

Sunday, October 28, 2012

I saw Wicked again yesterday.

It was even better than last time. So worth it. I have a shirt :) Went out to dinner, then went and visited cousins and learned Rummikub. Best thing.
So yesterday was kind of awesome.
And now I'm lonely and down again. I don't understand why that happens: I have a good day, and I think that my positivity will carry over to the next day, but it never does.
Does having a really good day drain my happiness? Why can't I be okay for more than one day?

Friday, October 26, 2012

well that was depressing.

here's what I did at the party tonight: danced, spent about half an hour in the bathroom crying, and danced some more.
god, why is this so hard? I'm so sick of everything being screwed up and feeling like this, like I'm never enough.
Don't you leave me brokenhearted tonight.

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

I started a new journal.

It's for poetry. I might transcribe stuff onto my writing blog.
But it's mostly really, really personal poetry that I think might embarrass or offend people. So far, at least. If it becomes more neutral, then I'm more likely to post it.
Writing poetry is kind of (incredibly) therapeutic to me. I'm not very confident in my skills in visual art, i.e. drawing, painting, etc., so I write a lot, and I always feel like I can express myself better that way. Sometimes, if I just use color, I can express myself visually, but it's easier for me to write because I feel like I can go back on it and change it and that's something I love being able to do. Even this post, as I'm writing it, I'm sure I'll look back later and want to change it somehow. But the point is, I like to write. A lot of people I know don't understand that. But I like to write, and I've been told I'm good, and it makes me feel better.
That is all.

Monday, October 22, 2012

Yew Guise

I can haz poneetale. After liek. Two munths. Omgomgomg.


I just want there to be male bloggers my age, okay? And maybe if they aren't religious bloggers? Yeah, that would be great.

Here is what I am doing:

Watching the debate. Listening to the only two candidates who have a chance of getting elected talk about the situation in the Middle East and about the economy. Wanting to bury my head in the sand (somewhere on the other side of the planet) because I JUST WANT THIS TO STOP. I WANT AMERICA TO HAVE SMART PEOPLE. I WANT EQUAL RIGHTS AND LOGICAL EVERYTHING AND THEY AREN'T. EVEN. TALKING. ABOUT. FOREIGN. POLICY. THIS IS ABOUT EDUCATION. I WANT FOREIGN POLICY YEW GUISE GODDDDD.


I was just outside for about five minutes, under cover, and my teeth are still chattering. Why is it so coooold?

Sunday, October 21, 2012

I don't know who I am anymore.

Dear McAwesome, Darth Veda, and Fun Sized Awesome

Thank you. Thank you for your words and just everything.
McAwesome, I don't know you that well. (Though I wish I did, you seem really cool and I know you're funny and smart.) But knowing that you felt similar? That means a lot. I never would have guessed that. Never. I guess no one is quite what they seem at first glance.
Darth Veda, I've known you for a loooong time, but only gotten close (at least, as close as I get to anyone) to you in the past year or so. And I'm really, really grateful for that. (You let me fangirl about my LoTR slash shipping without hurting me. well, USUALLY without hurting me. ;P) What's more, even if you don't totally get it, you're willing to try and make it better. Your email yesterday? I nearly cried. Thank you.
And finally, Fun Sized Awesome. You are the actual best. I can alternately drool over and cry over guys and you tolerate me, unlike some people (coughcoughcamelgirlcoughcough), not to mention that you tell me when I'm overstepping and you make me listen to your problems because that is what true friends do. they are mean to each other, but only to an extent (coughcoughcamelgirlcoughcough). I hate you to the isles of the blest, sweetie. Never stop.
So again. Thank you.
I can do this.

Saturday, October 20, 2012

tonight is melancholy.

i'm lonely. i saw pitch perfect with rachel, and it was awesome, but now i'm alone and tired and things suck and i want someone to hold me.
someone specific, but it's not like that's gonna happen.
so i'm stuck here alone, wanting and waiting and wondering.
wondering if it's all worth it.
i don't know anymore.

(i'm a writer. deal with it.)

i'm sitting.
sitting and waiting.
waiting, but i don't know what for.
i want to know what for.
i want things to change.
change and get better.
better and happier, brighter, like things are finally looking up again.
again and again and again i find myself waiting without knowing
flying over the precipice of wonder
waiting on the edges of life
for something to happen.
for things to change
change and get better
better and happier, brighter.
brighter than the sun.
(our class song is we are young, and sometimes i even want that to change)
I want to meet people
do things
make a difference
a dent
i want people to know my name
my friends
my family
they don't know what it's like
not being able to look someone in the eye and say
i know what i want
i've had that once
i said
i know what i want
and that's you
and he beat me down
love pricks like thorn, after all
and don't i know it
i relate more than i'd like to say
beca is lonely
she closes herself off
and i
i do the same
and i wish i had a jesse
someone stupidly sweet
who told me to get my shit together
but life isn't like that
my life isn't a movie
my life is bullshit
listening to pop and obscure tracks
reading classics and the newest chick lit
taking photos and wanting to learn graphic design
i am stuck in the past
long before my time
then i realize
that times are holding me down
i need something more advanced
i need sherlock's mind palace
i need jarvis
i need the stuff of legend
science fiction
but i want the hipster culture
vinyl and tights and mod dresses
vintage is my vice
but my iPad is my best friend
(except that it doesn't have a word processor, but that's okay)
i don't know which way to go.

two things (one much more important than the other)

1. 70th post on this blog. wow. 70th.
2. I don't get it. Nothing in particular, I just don't. get. it.
I'm sick of drama and being confused and having to deal with things.
I'm so tired. I sometimes want to sleep and never wake up because I'm so over having to deal with people and politics and romance and damn emotions.
A lot of my friends don't know this, and this may be a wake-up call to them, but I'm on anti-depressants that double as anti-anxiety meds. 10 mg per day.
I feel happier than I have in years. A couple of weeks ago my mom asked if I remembered what it was like. I automatically thought "what, being happy? no, I don't."
She meant the sadness. The empty ache of loneliness. Of not speaking.
She meant the keeping everything inside, not dealing with things. Letting them accumulate and pile on top of each other until they came spilling out all at once.
I don't care who knows. If I get bull for it, well, I can stand up for myself now.
I'm not a doormat.
But at the same time, I don't put myself first.
I want people to be happy. They deserve it. I don't see why I would, but they do.
they. deserve. whatever. they. want. from. life.
and maybe that's not healthy.
sometimes, a lot of the time, i look at my friends and think, why am i friends with these people?
Many of them I don't trust. Many of them say things that aren't supposed to hurt but strike my deepest fears, my most internal points.
The parts I don't show anyone.
I don't know anyone because when I did, when I used to, I got hurt.
I was proud of my art and someone else said, 'I can color inside the lines better than you'.
I was proud of my intelligence and someone said, 'I've been doing that forever. those are easy.'
I was proud of my work and I got behind in class because I cared when no one else did. My teachers would chastise me for working at a different pace.
I was proud to have a sister in fifth grade. One of her classmates said to me, 'she told me to massacre you' when she never did and he slapped me. I was seven.
I was proud.
And someone tore it all down.
It was never the same person, see. It was always different, always unexpected.
I'm doing a lesson on insecurities for the sixth grade class at my school. Me and my friends.
And the person who broke my heart on tuesday.
After leading me on for two days.
But that's not the point.
The point is, I am insecure. I am so incredibly insecure but I never say anything about it. My insecurity that I'm going to talk about in this lesson is 'anxious'. I have a generalized anxiety disorder. It's paralyzing. It's why I miss school. It's part of why I have an iPad instead of a planner.
I'm getting accommodations this year and I really, really wish I weren't. I get attention for it. People ask, why do you have an iPad? Why weren't you here? And I want to scream at them, to tell them to get out of my business, that I would tell people if I trusted anyone, anyone, anymore.
I don't trust anymore. I can't trust anymore. I'm more closed off than ever. It used to be that I had a best friend who I told everything and she never told anyone.
And then someone else got between us. Someone who I've known longer and have always liked better. We go to different schools now.
I made a new best friend.
I love her with all my heart.
But she knows she's mean. She's got my back, and I know that, but I'm not as close to her as I was either of my friends in elementary school.
I'm not close. I don't do close.
I do squealing and gossiping and I miss close.
I miss happiness and simplicity and wishing I was older. I wish I could go back and tell myself that it's not all that great.
That I am not me. I am a shell who doesn't know what to do because she doesn't do close.
I am makeup and this blog and whatever book I can get. I am fashion and beauty and boys because I can't be myself because I don't know who I am.
I don't know anything about who I am.
I want to, but I can't figure it out.
I am my statistics.
Emily Rose. Cis-female. 13 (Jan. 22). Eighth grade. Washington State. Parents are a civil engineer and a lawyer (both state workers). I have a sister. I have three pets. My parents are still married.
I like to write. I like to dance. I like to read. Especially classics. (The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald might be my favorite book. It might also be The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky or Shine by Lauren Myracle.) I have a lot of friends. I go to a private school for smart kids. John Green and Cassandra Clare are my favorite authors. I like superheros. Marvel ones. I'm pro-choice and pro-love.
I like late nights and coffee and good music is obscure music and/or Maroon 5. I like photography and flowers and dollhouses and tights. I like the idea of love and models and makeup and pictures of food. I like anime and sci-fi and romance. I like soccer and swimming and basketball and gymnastics. I like being relevant but disconnected. I like creating things instead of using them.
I like television and movies and actors. I like Disney Princesses and Hello Kitty and Winnie the Pooh and pastel colors. I like Harry Potter and The Lord of the Rings and the Bronte sisters and Jane Austen and the smell of old paperback novels.
I like the smell of grass and chocolate and perfume and ink and honey and farms.
I like the warmth of dogs and the sass of cats and the gentleness of horses and the aloofness of chickens.
I miss liking life.

Thursday, October 18, 2012

I don't like Thursdays.

Thursdays are when my sister has Knowledge Bowl and my grandma goes shopping, so I'm alone from when I get home at two fifty or so to about four. Sometimes later.
Thursdays are lonely. Today feels like a Friday, because I have no school tomorrow, but it's still a Thursday and I can't just sit in the family room and watch Angel with my sister because she's not here.
So I don't much like Thursdays.

Sunday, October 14, 2012


as soon as I finished that post and put my computer down, i DID have something to blog about.
my thumbdrive just broke and now I'm laughing at myself.
seriously. it has a case and then the little chip inside of it and they just came apart. so i have this piece ^^

and this piece.
Shh i'm awesome.


I don't really have anything to write about today.
But. I feel like posting. So here, have a picture of a llama.

And some bunnies in cups.

And maybe I'll throw in a tiny deer.

Perhaps a Dylan O'Brien? Yes?

(That one doesn't stay within the 'eee adorable' parameters so much, more of a 'hnnng' but that isn't always the case. sometimes Dylan is 'eee adorable'.)
Okay last one: Back to 'eee adorable'. Daniel Sharman.

(But fear not, dear readers: Daniel Sharman is possibly even more 'hnnng'-worthy than Dylan. Trust me.)
This is my post for the day.
You're welcome.

Saturday, October 13, 2012

Tell me.

Sometimes I wonder if anyone has any idea what's going on in my head. I mean, I talk all the time, but I don't say the important things, the 'I love you's and 'you matter's and 'I need you right now's.
When I do, people ignore them.
Am I the boy who cried wolf? Who doesn't say the things that matter, so they get ignored?
If I am, then how am I supposed to change?

Friday, October 12, 2012

Oh and did I mention.

My EGP is going to be Ikebana. I might already have a mentor and some resources and I'm really excited.
Basically I'm going to study the art of it, create arrangements, and deliver them to a local nursing home (where my grandmother lived until her death) on a bi-weekly or monthly basis. I'll take photos of each one, and maybe post them. Maybe create an entirely new blog for Ikebana. (This is something I want to continue, so... you never know.)
This is going to be so much fun :D


we keep talking and talking and talking
you and me
you and i
he and she
the ones everyone speculates about.
we keep talking
but never working anything out
i know that you know
i feel rational
like talking to you is ten times as easy
and we use our words
we're teenagers
we pretend like we know what we're doing
so we use our words
but we don't say anything.
all that talking
all that talking
and we've gotten nowhere.
we need to get somewhere
you can talk to me.
you should know that.
can we make this clearer for both of us?

Thursday, October 11, 2012


I keep blogging about how long it's been since I've blogged. Which is boring.
Thus, this is not a post about how long it's been since I've blogged.
It's a post about...
I don't know if he reads this.
I know I gave him a link, a long time ago.
I know he knows how I feel.
I know he 'zapped' me today at break.
I know I want to go through with it.
But I also know that someone else has said that I shouldn't, because he doesn't know what he would say.
So, if he's reading this, I ask him now: If I went through with the 'zap', what would he say? Would he break my heart because he doesn't know for sure, or would he let us try this?
Because if he's so confused that he might say no, then I'm not going to. I'm going to ask him to give me space so that maybe (maybe) I can get over him. But if he'll let us try... then I'm going to do it.
I am going to let myself be freed from a confinement that I've placed on myself for over a year. I'm going to let myself wonder and live. I'm going to let myself be happy.
And that's what would be best for me.
If it's not best for him, then he shouldn't say yes.
He should give me that space, let me see if I can be just as happy on my own.
I just wish this were easier.