The perks of being a teenage girl.

Breathe in, breathe out.
Sip your coffee.
Put a dollar in the jukebox, and pick your favorite song.
Pick up a pencil, and write it out.
Fall for the fictional boy.
Stay up late.
Pick out your outfit ahead of time.
Listen to a sad song.
Laugh.
Find your summer "fling."
Crash on your best friend's couch.
Cry.
Find comfort food, way too late at night.
Update your status way too much.
Take solace in your horcruxes.
Go out past midnight.
Find your haven.
Write a breakup song.
Sing obnoxiously to crappy emo love ballads.
Have a sleep over.
Let it go.
...And just like that, I did.

I'm just such a happy mess.

Today, it finally happened-

I finally had that cute little breakdown I was waiting for. I had just dropped off one of my first and only friends in high school, leaving her alone in the Kent Student Center to suffer through waiting in line and awkward conversation, while I foolishly waited around for someone who was long gone. It's funny, I've never had a panic attack before. I've calmed plenty of people down, but never once have I experienced the intense feelings of shortness of breath through a sudden, striking realization. I just want to make a clean escape- I'm leaving, but I don't know where to. I believe this calls for another early morning coffee outing with myself.

The moral of this story: I'm too worn out to think of a moral.

Until next time, stay classy kids.

I have to get this out of my system.

For days on end-

I haven't been able to blog. It's been driving me insane- quite literally. There's so many things I need to get out of my system and there's barely any time left to do it. This isn't about just one person, one situation, one occurrence. This is about three month's worth of experiences, relationships and lessons learned...or not learned. This is about just how hard it is to let something you care about go, and not feel like half of your organs went with it. This is about growing up- becoming an adult and how much it scares me. This is about second chances, the end of an era and the true meaning of "life outside your apartment." This is about my insomnia, and how when it finally does run it's course, I will miss it most of all. So yes, I will think of one of you as a time of day, the time of day when I felt the most alive. And yes, I will think of others as endless hours of coffee and sleep overs and late night food runs. And I will think fondly of someone else as the end of a wonderful era and the beginning of something better...but what does that leave you all to think of me?

The moral of this story: if you walk away, I'll walk away.

Until next time, stay classy kids.

When I do wrong I am with God-she thought

There seems to be some things that need to be said-

and once again, as always- I can't bring myself to say them. I can never explain my "writers" block when it comes to these sorts of things, but I guess it's all in how much experience you have with confronting your fears, and telling the truth. There's a lot to be said about my efforts, but sometimes the effort itself just isn't enough. I'm lacking the nerve to say what needs to be said. In order to take action, and do the right thing- one must be sure that the right thing is what needs to be done. Maybe the right thing is walking away, saying goodbye...or maybe the right thing to do at this very moment, is to crawl back into bed with the J.J.K. and forget for just a little bit longer.

The moral of this story: sleep is for the weak...and maybe, I am the weak.

Until next time, stay classy kids.

I need coffee like addicts need heroin.

I truly believe I may be dying-

from a lack of caffeine intake. At the moment, I swear I'm going through with drawl. I feel shaky,irritable and I'm practically begging anyone on facebook to come out with me. I'm also listening to Bright Eyes at the moment, so that may have something to do with my hostile feelings as well. I believe I may just resign to my old "let's-get-up-at-six-in-the-morning-and-harass-the-kids-opening- Starbucks" idea... but you know, actually go DO it this time...plus, I have a game boy advance with Pokemon Sapphire for the moment, and I might as well take advantage of it...at six in the morning. Alright! my plans for the day have been made! [Let's pretend this never happened, and we can all ignore just how sad it is that I'm excited for this.]

The moral of this story: my life=epic fail at the moment, considering all it takes for me to get excited is Pokemon and early morning lurking.

Until next time, stay classy kids.

What I would give to have an imaginary friend...

What's happening to me-

It's 11:37 and I'm about to crash. What is this nonsense? I haven't slept before 5 A.M. in three months and now suddenly, I'm tired at 11:37!? I'm vaguely insulted...but then again, maybe it's time for my insomnia to right itself. The whole reason it came about in the first place has been fixed-and through my insomnia I have had the privilege of doing some fantastic things...like revisiting friendships I thought had long since died. And above all, it lead me to discover the joy of blogging...but maybe it's time to retire while I'm ahead. Yeah, my past three months have been hard-but at the same time they were absolutely amazing. Without them, I wouldn't have the J.J.K and the closest thing I have to a real life imaginary friend-Tyler. But like the Kling house, my insomnia seems to have done all it could do for me...righted all the wrongs that caused it to spring to life in the first place.I am forever grateful for three months worth of sleepless nights spent in coffee shops across Ohio with anyone I could convince to come out with me. So I would like to say thank you- to anyone who was kind enough to get out of their bed/off their chair to come out and spend the hours in between today and tomorrow with me.Thank you for listening to my stories and reading my blog-thank you for understanding just how much I needed another person at the most awkward of hours.

The moral of this story:

Until next time, stay classy kids.

This is for Fawley, because he reads my blog.

Today, I got free pizza-

for washing my hands in a pizza shop in Highland Square. Technically, I got TWO free pizzas, but who's counting? [I am!] of course the members of the J.J.K. had everything to do with the free pizza and cigarettes I obtained, and that is why love them. After re-reading my last post multiple times, I've come to realize just how big of a part Misdirected had in my life. Band practice became a weekly thing for me-whenever I needed a car all I had to do was say "mom/dad, I have practice tonight." and they'd hand over the keys, tell me to be home at a decent hour if it was during the school week, and let me go. But that period of my life has come and gone, and much like The Orange Street, will be missed terribly. On a much lighter topic, the J.J.K. will once again be terrorizing Lakewood/Cleveland Heights on Monday-so any of you kids who live in and or around either of those areas should make a point to find us and converse for a little while...we'll most likely be at Taco Bell-eating our body weight in cheap Mexican food, The Flower Child-going insane over retro home furnishings, American Apparel-crying over overpriced hoodies, or Common Grounds- smoking our lives away and drinking copious amounts of bad ass coffee.

The moral of this story: The J.J.K. is everything you wish you could be.

Until next time, stay classy kids.

And then suddenly- my life exploded.

First and foremost-

I apologize to the two people who read my blog enough to realize it's been four days since I've updated...but what an epic four days it has been. I've spent a lot of time with the J.J.K. frolicking about Lakewood and causing general mayhem all over northeastern Ohio. I've also spent a lot of time with people I never thought I could waste my sleepless hours with. Call it irony or foreshadowing or whatever you want, but that includes Al. Tonight was Misdirected Aggression's last show as a band and of course as soon as I saw the event on Facebook, I hit "attending" and memorized the date. I figured at most, it would just be a great house show and an awesome way to end an era...but it was something more. Now I've always known that the house on Kling had some sort of magical ability- weather it was to bring people together at the right time or to act as a catalyst I'll never really know. But something about seeing that house for the last time brought back a wave of nostalgia that nearly knocked me over. I had been absent from the Kling house since May...maybe early June. I struggled to remember the last band practice I had attended and my mind came up blank...how could I have stayed away from Kling for so long? I ran up the steps, saw Mandi, and quite nearly knocked her off her feet. I hugged her and waved at Jeff until my eyes found Al. We observed each other for a moment, waved, and then I proceeded to walk outside and smoke a cigarette with the "K" of the J.J.K.- Allison. Misdirected continued to play their last set, and as something inside of me died, something else was reborn from the ashes. I felt...proud. Proud of the boys I'd known for so little time. The house had worked it's magic on me, and it was time to let it do the same for someone else. Misdirected Aggression is no more and the closure that came with their end is an utter relief. I will always miss the Kling house- all the memories associated with my time spent there are some of the best ever. There will always be pictionary, ciabatta bread, house shows, first kisses, and "come back" notes to revisit in my mind...and I will always have some Misdirected Agression for the rest of my life.

The moral of this story: the world is not waiting for three boys and a broken down van.

Until next time, stay classy kids.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes.

What becomes of someone-

after you forget them? Are they a memory? a ghost? or are they just the body they vacated, laying six feet below the earth, slowly turning into nothing. What happens to the memory of that person when you can't remember the last time you saw them alive? Everyone else shares the same last vivid memory, but you- you've got nothing. All you have left is a blurry recollection of a chance encounter- you're not even sure if that really happened or if you just wish it did. You will never have closure, at least not internally for the sole reason you can't recall the last time you cared about that person until you found out they were dead. And sure, the funeral was hard for you but compared to the kids around you, you felt down right fake. They all have their last memory, their final words, their closure. But you- you sit there with tears rolling down your face and you feel absolutely appalled with yourself. Not to say you didn't care, you care very much. But your tears seem forged compared to those around you. Now imagine a year passing. Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes of your life has passed and here you are, on the anniversary of the most untimely death you've ever had to encounter. And it's painful- you still lack the closure you want...the knowledge of the date put a hole in your chest that had not been there for a long time. You want this person to know you care about them as much as you did the day you met them- but you're too poor for flowers. You have no knowledge of where they're buried. And then comes that feeling of becoming absolutely appalled with yourself for failing them as a friend.
Happy anniversary guys.
I love you all, and I know we all miss her.

The moral of this story: nobody put it better than Kaytee when she said: "I noticed how beautiful the sky was today and I realized it's because you're up there."

Until next time, stay classy kids.

I think the phrase "Folie a Deux" applies here.

I'm desperately trying to write a song-

Don't get me wrong, I can fill pages of legal pads and notebooks and blogs with useless ramblings but when it comes to writing a song, I can't do it. I can blog four hours about anything that's on my mind but when it comes to rhyming words and setting it to music- something in the back of my mind goes "let's make this absolutely awful!" and so it goes. For some odd reason, I've been feeling like it's completely necessary to write a song about the movie Fight Club. Scratch that, not even Fight Club- just about Tyler. So of course today I sat myself down at Rico Latte and scribbled a few lines on a napkin. They're satisfactory enough, but they hold no real meaning...like what I'm trying to say just won't come out. There's so much I need to say and at the most inopportune moment, my word vomit has stopped mid-stream. Writers block aside, tomorrow/today Katie and Alison and I are going to spend the day in Lakewood aimlessly walking and eating and entering various consignment shops and causing general mayhem. Our night shall close with Common Grounds.[obviously, since we'll be in the area for once] You know what, fellow bloggers? you get to read my awful Fight Club song and mock me relentlessly for it.

I think right about here is where we left off-

you and me and this loaded gun.

You asked for last words, I could think of none

Just you and me and this loaded gun.

And the world goes up in flames

And Tyler knows I won't be the same when I'm awake.

So I'll find my cure in other people's pain

I'll find a girl and push her away

Tyler makes the rules

And Tyler's gone away

And the world goes up in flames

Ans Tyler knows I won't be the same when I'm awake.

The moral of this story: I'm an awful songwriter.

Until next time, stay classy kids.