I can hear the cries of the city, no time for pity for a growing tree.

I don't like sweating over a boy.
I don't like my heart beat being manipulated by his words or lack of them.
Or do I?
Maybe I'm not as disillusioned about love as I like to think.

song of the day: world of pain, cream

Words, simply put.

song of the day: Casimir Pulaski Day, Sufjan Stevens

I really, really, really like this video. You can watch it so many times, and each time something new comes to view. I'll leave it at that.

It's by Daniel Mercadante, who calls himself everynone.
You should also check out his video "moments" on the website.
Sorry no more talky talky for today. Maybe tomorrow? Maybe I love you? Maybe pictures soon?

~Lola

Busy

song of the day: Corduroy, Jaymay

When people ask me nowadays how life is, I almost invariable answer: busy. I'm filled to the brim with work. Homework (surprisingly not so much as I would have expected), thoughts, ideas, schoolwork, traveling to and fro, keeping it all under control. But I guess you could say I sleep well when my head finally does hit the pillow.

I've been having odd and vivid dreams though. I always have been a dreamer of either grotesque or fantastic but definitely realistic dreams. I've got to start writing them down in here. Not today, though.

I have the best of people in my school. I love each one, and even the inevitable jerks still each have something I grudgingly admire in them. 

I know I picked the right friends when they knew who Eddie Izzard was, and had seen Amelie and Star Wars + Star Trek and listened to the Doors and David Bowie and all of them spewed with sarcasm. I sit with them at lunch and eat my customary large carrot before digging into whatever I packed for mealtime. The days are clear and biting. The air turns my nose cold in a second, yet the sun still shines bright whitened yellow and our colorfully adorned bodies still shriek and scream as we play our lunchtime away. It will be too cold soon. But then I can pack hot tea in a thermos and drink it during first period math class. Mmmm. . .

I'm officially on the Ultimate Frisbee team, so y'all best watch out. It's basically me and twelve guys age 15-17 running like maniacs around whatever field we can get in to practice, twice a week 2.5 hours a practice. I love it. I've grown up in a household surrounded by guys, so I have this slight out of the ordinary tendency to associate with them. I'm comfortable with these guys in a way I don't think many teenage girls are. I feel almost no sexual tension, and I feel at equals with them, at least off the playing field. On it is a different matter. They're all ten times better than me, easily. But I'll work my hardest and I'll get better, I know. Anyway, we can't afford to turn anyone away, since we're so tiny. Right now we seem a bit pathetic, but I know we will be the best, once season starts and we stop fooling around. We don't have a field to practice on. After school, we meet and go down to the park, and usually there's a locked field that we hop a fence into, but recently this parks department guy keeps coming in and threatening to give us a summons. So we're kind of homeless. Sucks. Soon soccer season will be over, though, and the fields will be empty. 

Classes are good, too. I'm learning bunches and bunches. The classes are very informal, but I think we're able to control ourselves enough to learn while we joking and calling out and eating and teasing. In advisory, we voted wether to play circle games, or talk politics. We chose politics, hands down. My physics teacher met his wife on World of Warcraft. We all find it too cute. 

In short, we're nerds of a feather, and I am very happy. I want to write about non-school things soon, but I needed to fill you in on this info first. I hope to be writing again ASAP. 

Love.

Shellshocked

song of the day: wallet, regina spektor

This place is amazing, but crazy. You know, I've spent the last couple years of my life reading (fiction) books about teens. All the stories are set in high school, this place of big kids, this milestone that seems so far away, just untouchable. But then, here I am! Among seventeen and eighteen year olds, guys with beards, kids who drive to school, I mean this is actually it, and that's shocking! I was still in denial over the summer, though I had thought it hit me. I'm one of the big kids on the bus who everyone hates, I'm someone with a personality and individuality and I'm old enough for people to notice that and me. It's nice, it's so nice. PLus I'm among my kind, my ilk. Its okay to read your book during lunch, it's okay to use very large words in normal conversations, it's okay to want to read your work out loud. In fact, it's just great to do such things! I love these people (well, some of them). Also, I've been learning and thinking hard about things and finding people on my level of work, which makes me realize how much I was missing at my old school--please don't think I'm being an egotist, I can put it no other way--and I've been making actual friends! I'm really into Ultimate Frisbee, so I bring a disc with me to school, and I've been playing every day at lunch and attracting a group as I go. It's started to get really competitive! So, yeah. Lola's happy yet a little shook up, as expected of a freshman in her first week. Report back more, later!

A Blackberry Crown, a New Beginning

Song of the day: All Along the Watchtower, Jimi Hendrix (cover) 

Mmmmmk.
It's a day before school starts. Before high school starts. Cliched or not, the first day of high school is going to change my life. It may not mean everything, but it sure means a lot. I'm going to change, my mind is going to change, my attitude, my looks, my social standing. Maybe I care, maybe I don't. All the same, I'm going to record it on this blog. I've had it sitting around for a while, just waiting for the right time to write my first post on it. Now seems right, especially since Flower just released her own new blog.
So here's to new beginnings. This one is called Blackberry Crowns. My childhood is filled with blackberry bushes, with cars pulled off to the sides of roads to grab ourselves handfuls of berries and stain our shirts with abandon. Blackberries are childhood to me. Funny, when I was younger, I couldn't stand the sweet ones. I would always pick the underripe ones, so I could be sure they were sour as I liked. We have a blackberry bush in our country house, which I still pluck berries from, gingerly. Gingerly because like so many other good things, blackberries have wicked thorns. So I've got blackberries for the memories of childhood, and the ongoing enactment of such pleasures, and crowns for the beauty, responsibility, and handled weight and pain.
A crown is something regal, a symbol that tells you that the wearer is worthy of--something. This gives the wearer responsibility. The crown can weigh on the wearer's head, if worn right, and my crown is made of blackberries. That's why my hair is so dark. It is stained with the juice of the blackberries twined together on my crown. The crown is sometimes very sharp, and sticks me with its thorns, but like I said before, with good things there are often tradeoffs. My blackberry crown will bind me and free me. It will keep me sane yet allow me to let myself go insane for a little while. It will help remind me to do what I must do and think what I must think. Without it I would not be Lola, and I think everybody has a blackberry crown, but not too many of them are made out of blackberries, like mine. What's your crown made from?
Maybe you don't know yet, maybe you'll find out now that you start looking. Tomorrow fills me with anticipation, not all of it good, not all of it bad. Hey, I may be acting dramatically, but this is my blog, so deal. See you next time a post comes round.

cheers,
Lola.