Happy belated birthday, Harry.

In the spirit of things-

I would normally open up my blog with something pertaining to the type of day I've had/cynical humor/what's nagging at the back of my sleep deprived mind. But the only two things I can keep focused on right now are:
1. I'm using my mom's computer so for once, I don't have to worry about it shutting down on me and/or punching it in the face. Patrick be praised.
2. I want some serious coffee...like enough for me to call it a night at 1:55 and sleep for four hours so that I may awake, shower and the plague the poor souls who have to open Starbucks at six in the morning.
I would also kill for some decent conversation right now. It's too early for me to go to bed [even with a genius plan such as the one mentioned above] aside from that, my mother has this intense rule about having her car home before midnight thus, me not being in Lakewood for the second night in a row. lately I'm finding myself sort of "escaping" to Common Grounds. Escaping being in quotes because there's nothing to run from back in the falls. In fact, I should be running from Lakewood but fat chance THAT would ever happen. I find myself at peace in that little coffee shop- my mind settles for a few hours. In an odd way it's like my own awkward version of a good nights sleep.

The moral of this story: I am Jack's odd sense of security.

Until next time, stay classy kids.

My purse has once again become a mobile library.

Books are the single greatest thing to ever exsist-

this is something I've come to realize within the past few days. How I've gone without them for so long, I cannot tell you. This realization was thrust upon me when I finished The Half-Blood Prince for the millionth time. Of course I was in tears- the ending phrase "we're with you, whatever happens" having a lot to do with it. And to tell you the truth fellow bloggers, my yearning to become a fictional character has reached it's peak. I long to live in the pages of a book alongside some of the most interesting people ever. I want to pull an "Alaskan" prank, I want to search Europe for horcruxes, hell I'm even curious about a fictional life in Forks, Washington.[against my better judgment.] A break into an ink-and-paper world would be more than welcome at this point. I'm sick of distractions in this world and I'm sick of making decisions. I would gladly accept someone else's ability to make decisions for me. But despite all of these feelings, I am quite content at the moment, sitting in my haven in Lakewood with my coffee, [which is more excellent than usual, FTW] cigarettes, and company. I enjoy the small surprises in life- the ability to make up monologues on the spot, pancakes of the international sort, when myspace surveys ask you questions you WANT to answer.

The moral of this story: paper girls don't always have the most fun.

Until next time, stay classy kids.

And then I realized- I update my facebook status way too much.

"That was EPIC!"-

I nearly screamed as I slammed my book shut. My delightfully Asian companion made no move to stop her coloring, eyes still on her art. "Was it?" she responded with mild amusement at my rush of excitement. In all reality,it was. Not just the perfect ending to the novel I had finally finished, but my night as a whole had been drama free for once. I figured after my epic word battle, Lakewood would be off limits for awhile. But as always, I'm pleasantly surprised by Common Grounds and how it proved that it could never truly be "enemy territory" for anyone. But still,in the midst of everything there's this nagging feeling in my stomach-like I'm constantly waiting for something but I can't figure out what it could be. I've taken great strides within the past few days to detox my life... regardless of weather or not that includes shutting out someone I care about for his own good and exactly how that makes feel-it's helping.

The moral of this story: I have a feeling my sleeping pattens will never right themselves.

Until next time, stay classy kids.

All I need to know about love, I've learned from The Decemberists.

There' something about being awake when the sun comes up-

that keeps me from wanting to sleep. Although I'm finding with insomnia comes the frequent feeling of disorientation. I picked up Jena last night around nine, and feels like I picked her up a week ago. It's also alarming to look at my phone and find that it's July 28th...not that the date is an important one- it just baffles me to realize that summer is almost over. I vividly remember graduation, the moment of unease I felt a half an hour before it, as I sat down with a polar pop and a cigarette on my front porch with Hatts. It seems like yesterday I was walking down the stairs to Yami's basement for the first time. I remember my trip to c-bus, and prom night. But so much time has passed between the first day of my first year of high school to right this very second- and so much has happened. I worked an awful job, fell in love, got pierced, recorded a demo, lost sleep and found myself- not all in that order. At this very moment, I have my whole life ahead of me. I have school to go [or not go] to. I have friends to punch in the face, polar pops to consume, songs to write, stories to tell. I'm eighteen and invincible,and my life won't stay this way forever. All I can really say is I hope that when the world comes to and end, I can breathe a sigh of relief, because there will be so much to look forward to.

The moral of this story: Keyser park is beautiful at 4:30 in the morning.

Until next time, stay classy kids.

"Patrick be praised."

Lullabye-

Honey is for bees, silly bear
Besides, there's jelly beans everywhere
It's not what it seems in the land of dreams
Don't worry your head just go to sleep

It doesn't matter how you feel
Life is just a Ferris wheel
It's always up and down
Don't make a sound

When you wake up the world will come around
When you wake up the world will come around

Its just the sweet weather and the peacock feathers
In the morning, it will all be better
It's not what it seems in the land of dreams
Don't worry your head just go to sleep

When you wake up the world will come around
When you wake up the world will come around

Honey is for bees, silly bear
Besides there's jelly beans everywhere
It's not what it seems in the land of dreams
Don't worry your head just go to sleep.

The moral of this story: when there are no words- copy and paste Fall Out Boy as a filler.

Until next time, stay classy kids...at least classier than me.

Aside from Harry Potter and cigarettes, blogging is the best thing ever.

There's something about Kurt Cobain I cannot stand-

Maybe it's the whole " young and tragic" thing, but that would go against my ongoing obsessions with other young and tragic people I'll never meet. The young lass sitting across from me would never forgive me for vocalizing these thoughts. However, at the moment she is busy. A pen clutched in her hand, scribbling furiously and pausing now and then to check a steady stream of texts from whom I assume is her lad. her hair is completely out of her face, as opposed to mine, which hangs like a curtain in front of my eyes.Looking at her is like looking in a fun house mirror- our corresponding piercings are the only physical similarity between us. Our features blur and distort, as fun house mirrors do. But somehow, I always see her looking back- a cleaner version of me. This is not a compensation, at least, not in my eyes. Just proof that everyone has a kindred soul- a horcrux, if you will. Someone who, when you see them, you see a piece of yourself hidden in them as well. And as with any good horcrux, their pain is your pain and vice versa. But unlike a horcrux, I did not choose the people I see staring back at me. There are few other souls I know upon looking at them I immediately see my own dirty reflection blurred with theirs. And for some strange reason, I know the phrase "we're with you, whatever happens" thoroughly applies.

The moral of this story: Splitting your soul seven ways isn't always a horrible thing.

Until next time, stay classy kids.

Fall Out-Boy Meets Girl.

Al-x Lovell is single-

that's the first thing facebook has to tell me when I log in at 4:00 in the morning. Not that I'm not well aware of this fact- seeing as I'm the reason he's single. It's just a big slap in the face, displaying the fact a full week after we called it quits. Now fellow bloggers, I'm completely aware that even though I punched him in the face, I am still not over him yet. Yes, meeting a total stranger in the parking lot of Steak-N-Shake is nice, and yes, this Patrick look-a-like is beautiful, but I still find myself lacking the closure I expected to have by now. In a cosmic sort of way, this is the definition of irony. A girl whose never cared about anyone suddenly finds herself needing closure to move on with her life. It's like God is giving me the proverbial middle finger for waiting so long to grow up. I used to make fun of the kids who clung on to past relationships and now I guess I'm one of them. All I can do is pray to whatever's up there to send Patrick back my way and prove to me this misdirected punk wasn't the best thing out there.

The moral of this story: relationships are not for the weak.

Until next time, stay classy kids.

Ten reasons why Steak-N-Shake is the best place to be at 2:00 in the morning.

I just met the new "Patrick"-

Now, let me explain.If I find a young lad attractive in any way,shape, or form they will most likely fall into one of these two categories:
1. They're skinny, tall, and nerdy.
2.They look like the lead singer from Fall Out Boy.
Sad, yes...but oh, so very true. Patrick Stump is the one man I would marry on the spot if he approached me with a ring and a promise that I could have his beautiful, nerdy, shy be-speckled babies. As most of you know, I'm an insomniac- which means my body refuses to shut down anywhere before 5 and 7 in the morning. So what do I do to kill the extra hours I find myself awake? I go out in search of caffeine. Most nights, I'll drag anyone willing to come with me to Lakewood, where I'll smoke myself to sleep and drink copious amounts of awesome coffee. But tonight, I decided to drag Cait with me- a well deserved break after dealing with her extended family's ten thousand dogs,all of which coincidentally, want to hump my leg at the same time. Our destination? Steak-N-Shake.
I parked the trailblazer and we wandered inside to find the waitress who recognized me as a bi nightly regular,sat us without hesitation, and began to make a fresh pot of coffee. It was in that moment that Cait tapped me on the shoulder and pointed towards a couple of lads sitting at the counter. "look! he looks just like Patrick!" she whispered pointing directly at the lad seated closest to my field of vision. And lo, and behold- he did. From the sideburns right down to the thick,black square rimmed glasses. I stared freely at this point, as the lads were playing their check and wandering outside, and for one heart wrenching moment, I thought I was too late. But then something happened. The lads stopped directly out front and lit a cigarette a piece.
Cait and I exchanged one solid look, and I removed the last cigarette from my pack and bolted outside in time to pat my pockets convincingly and shout "Do either of you have a lighter I can use?" Ah, the perks of lung cancer. Of course the other lad offered up the Patrick look-alike's lighter [which was RED!] and started a conversation, introducing both lads as "two best friends named Joe". We spoke for about forty-five minutes before they departed on their way back to Kent [score] where they both resided [double score] and went to school [score x3].

The moral of this story: Stake-N-Shake is the answer to ALL of my prayers.

Until next time, stay classy kids.

When in Lakewood- blog in all night coffee shops.

I punched a man in the face last Saturday night-

and it was quite possibly the most bad ass moment of my young life. But before I can unveil more about that, I should fill you in on the events leading up to the single best moment of my life so far. Let's rewind to Tuesday, July 14th of the year 2009. On this fateful aforementioned night, I resigned from my most current relationship with this guy...Fellow bloggers, meet Al. Now, I know he looks like your typical angst ridden punk, and in reality, he is. But this ferocious lad is also so much more. For one, he's one of the four people who's DNA makes up my best friend, along with The Asian,Killer and Cait. He's also one of the most adorable kids I've ever met...but that's not why I clocked him in the face. After my resignation he left me with a paperweight in my chest and became, for lack of a better term, a punk. Now young Al had a good thing going for him. He was in a decent band and had decent friends. He was a decent guy. Until one day, his tiny world exploded. Now he has no friends, quit his decent band, and became a ghost of the adorable young lad I once knew and subsequently, adored. Now back when we were together we had an agreement between us.When young Al said or did something remarkably stupid- [granted, this was not often] I would give hm a tally. If and when he got to 25, I was allowed to punch him in the face. far trade? I'd like to think so. Towards the end of our time together he had accumulated far more than 25 tally's and was well aware of this fact. But young Al made one fatal mistake- he refused to believe me every time I threatened his adorable little face. Now this lad had one final show with his decent little band before he so tastefully decided to give his band mates the proverbial middle finger for reasons unknown to the rest of us. Now this lad was pushing the show pretty hard- I guess he wanted to go out with a bang or something that seemed logical to him at the time, so we all bought tickets, and pushed our limits to make it out to Misdirected Aggression's last show as a decent band. Fast forward to the few moments we had to smoke a quick cigarette and book it back inside to see Left Alone-an incredible ska band from California.Aside from having a moment with the bassist as he stared deep into my eyes and gave me the type of shit eating grin that can ONLY mean one thing- the men below my perch on the balcony had begun to form the usual mosh pit you can only find at an underground punk show. The pit was loud, fast and full of men-until something happened. I found myself tossing aside my cigarettes and glasses, and hurling myself down the stairs into the mass of sweaty lads who were busy beating the shit out of anyone who came too close. I found myself in the midst of the beating of a century, my lungs screamed at me to get out, but the paperweight in my chest seemed to evaporate on the spot. I found myself relaxing as I was thrown brutally in between men twice my size, hands and elbows hit my face,arms and every other exposed appendage possible. And to my surprise, I found myself hitting back just as hard. All too soon the set was finished, and the pit broke apart in a wave of high fives and requests for cigarettes.I joined the current of people headed for the back patio and found the people I was looking for. I stood in a semi-circle alongside Al, smoke hung lazily overhead as the single greatest moment of my life was rapidly approaching. He turned his head for an instant to reply to a friend, when I found myself winding back and prepared to issue three months worth of misdirected aggression straight to his face. In that split second it took for my fist to make contact, I watched his face turn from passive, to astonishment, to disbelief as my knuckles made full contact with his temple. The greatest moment of my young life so far was in that second where my fist found Al's face, and within the next few minutes where it made it's way to his collar bone and stomach, respectively. I had finally done what I said I would do much to his surprise and it felt absolutely amazing. Well, there you have it fellow bloggers. Three months worth of pent up aggression, all let out in about three minutes.

The moral of this story: the best way to win a lad's heart, is to punch him in the face.

Until next time, stay classy kids.