Dog Days are Over

Dear readers,

A few months ago, Eaven White started up a new blog for herself. I didn't really understand why she did it. I thought her old blog was just fine! I liked her old blog!

Now I understand. Sometimes your blog loses its savor, and you gotta start over again.

That and blog titles for this blog take way too much effort.

And so I invite you to my new blog, my new pseudonym, my new identity. Soren Cantus will still exist (and may even blog from time to time here), but there's a new girl in town. Her name is Apricot Jones.

Welcome to the secret life and times of Apricot: http://thesecretlifeandtimesofapricot.blogspot.com/
(Read from the beginning. It makes so much more sense.)

Until next time, adios faithful readers!

All my love,
Soren Cantus

My Friends, My Friends

Don't ask me
What your sacrifice was for
Empty chairs at empty tables
Where my friends will sit no more


Remember how last post I was hooked on Jekyll&Hyde? Well, now it's Les Miserables. I've actually never heard Les Miserables before Saturday. No joke. And then I watched the 25th Anniversary (the one with Nick Jonas) online, and I fell in LOVE. I love Eponine! I might have loved Cosette if she'd had a personality!

And right now my favorite song is Empty Chairs at Empty Tables. And it makes me want to cry every time.

Ah, the joy of the theater!

--Soren, out

Keep Holding On

This is my theme song for reading Inheritance. No, seriously. I'm 100 pages in and nothing is happening!

NaNoWriMo died. Alas. I got behind, and it snowballed, and trying to catch up with NaNo made me behind in my homework, which isn't good. Like, at all.

I'm hooked on Jekyll and Hyde, the musical. The music is so addicting!

--Soren, out.

Can Anybody Find Me...?

It's that time again: NaNoWriMo!

If you don't know what NaNoWriMo is, it's short for "National Novel Writing Month". And guess who's doing it this year? Me!

Disclaimer: If I go MIA, don't worry. I'm just selling my soul in hopes of accomplishing my dream of becoming a world-renowned author.

Right now, I'm up way too late procrastinating finishing my project, because frankly I don't know what to do, and I'm afraid that if I go to sleep, I won't wake up in time for class tomorrow. Because I slept through my first class yesterday. And I was late to my class today. I can't pull all-nighters like I'm used to. And now my second wind is kicking in, which means I have to drive to do something. Maybe I'll do dishes.

I think I might take little cat naps throughout the night to ensure that I get to class on time (because my project is due, and I HAVE to be there to present it), clean the dorm while I'm at it, and maybe get something to eat. I'm kinda hungry.

I'm exhausted. And, because I am exhausted, I am prone to being highly emotional. Which I am. And so here goes my splurge.

I want love so bad. I want someone to look at me like I pulled the sun right out of the sky, I want him to hold me like he couldn't bear to ever let me go, I want him to tell me that he thinks I'm the most amazing person he's ever know. Because I know when I meet him, that's what I'm going to be doing.

Normally I can put on a brave face and go on through life like it doesn't bug me, but it does. It hurts seeing other people so madly in love, and wonder what is wrong with me that I can't find it. I changed my clothes, and my hair, and my makeup, and I changed how I thought about myself, and nothing changes. I get out of the house, I go do stuff, I participate, but I'm invisible. And it hurts. It hurts really bad. I just want someone to look at me like I'm there, like I exist. Because I feel like everyone is just passing me by, going on to something that's bigger and better and makes an impression, and in the end, I'm left alone in the dust.

I just want somebody to love me. I just want somebody to hold my hand. I want to feel loveable, and likable, and kissable, and wonderful. I want my love story to begin. I want to belong with someone. I want to feel love.

--Soren, out.

A New King

I have a boyfriend!

Well, not really. He's an action figure on my desk serving as my makeshift boyfriend until I get a real one.

So my roommate has sisters. And said sisters sent her a small Smurfs figurine to serve as her makeshift boyfriend to make up for her lack thereof. She made the mistake of telling me, and I started teasing her (with love, of course). In retaliation, she promised to get me my own makeshift boyfriend.

Yesterday I get an email that I have a package waiting for me. I go to pick it up and I have no idea what it is. It's a small, rectangular box from Brian's Toys in Lexington, KY (irony, anyone?).

It was my makeshift boyfriend. Loki the action figure now sits proudly on my desk. I have one of the best roomies in the world.

It's things like this that make me love life.

--Soren, out.

Love, Can You Hear Me?

Here I am, procrastinating homework, wiping sleep from my tired eyes, trying to find a reason to do this pointless "aura-gram" assignment. The auras I see are much cooler. Not as informative, but much cooler.

I also need to retake my online Music 101 vocab test. I got a high "C" on it the first time (not too bad for not having reviewed beforehand), and I can retake as many times as I want, so long as I don't use my notes.

My favorite Pandora station is about to put me to sleep.

If I could just get a move on and do my work, I might be able to do something with my life (or at least with my dorm) before my classes start. Why is motivation so elusive?

I really want to write. And I'm not talking about essays. I'm talking about stories, whether by myself, or with someone else. I need creativity, I need creation, I need to build worlds and characters and relationships.

I might have a really big crush. It looks hopeless at this point, but I've been talking to him (electronically, since I can't face-to-face) and...I don't know how to describe it. I feel floaty. Happy. But I know that as soon as he gets here he'll probably forget he ever knew me and meet some girl and fall in love and oops, there goes the sound of another broken heart of mine. My supply is getting low. I have to guard them carefully. When will I ever learn that?

--Soren, out.

Slow Me Down

I'm pulling another all-nighter.

In my defense, I wasn't completely procrastinating all this time. Mostly I've been working on the proposal for the paper (which we've been diligently working on as a group) and today I spent all day at the PPC.

I hate having to cite resources. It takes so much time, and I'm so tired.

Schedule for tomorrow:
1. Pull all-nighter. Get paper ready for peer review.
2. Come home. Do music hw. Eat leftover rice/hot dog/creole creation. Take a nap.
3. Go to music class.
4. Sleep til I feel like waking up.
5. By this time, it's probably Saturday. Shopping day! $1 Totino's pizzas! $0.59 cucumbers! Freedom! Mostly...and then more homework.

Not going to the masquerade. In reality, it's so much better to go with a guy, and since I have no guy, I have no dance. Besides, this week has been hectic. I'm ready for some rest.

--Soren, out.

I'm so Sick

I'm a bit sick.

Not the throwing-up kind of sick. I probably have an inner ear infection, and so I've been having headaches, and lots of vertigo. I've also been suffering from Seasonal Affect Disorder. It's made me really tired and depressed.

Oi with the poodles already, right?

So now that I know what's going on, I feel better. I mean, I still have it, still feel it, but now I can deal with it.

This post wasn't supposed to be depressing. Hopefully it isn't. If it is...oops.

Thursday is the Pre-Professional Conference, and Gary Schmidt and Lawson Inada are coming to read at it! Because I'm in the English Academic Society, and I'm also hosting a panel, then I get to attend a special breakfast and lunch with them and all the other EAS people! I'm so excited!

Friday is the masquerade ball! I really would like to go with someone (ahem, I want a guy to ask me out already!) but even if there is no guy, I'm still going. I have way too much fun with things like this to miss it over a stupid guy.

I'm totally hooked on my "The Lady of Shalott" station on Pandora. Celtic music win. That and my "Gregorian Chants" station. Ah, study music.

Life is good right now. Cold, yes. Tiring me out, to the max. But it's good.

--Soren, out.

Try the Grey Stuff (It's Delicious)

Normally I don't care if people comment, but this time I really need your answers.

What is your "skinny" food?

By "skinny" food, I mean, what's the food that, when you eat it, makes you feel good and healthy.

Every time I eat something, I feel incredibly fat, no matter what it is. Right now ice cream sounds really good. Maybe I just need to eat cold foods.

The thing is that I honestly don't eat much. I don't have the time to eat, and I don't have to money to buy food all the time, so I have to be careful with what I have and make it last. I still feel really fat whenever I eat anything.

Please comment! I need to go shopping soon and I need suggestions of what foods to make me feel better!

--Soren, out.

Tricksy Clock

I'm stuck.

I should be working on an essay due tomorrow about the etymology of a word, tracing that word and its usage back into the Indo-European origins.

Oi with the poodles.

I have no idea how to write three to five pages about something that is summarized in less than a paragraph on the Oxford Etymology Dictionary. I mean, really? The word voice came from the PIE (Proto-Indo-European) base "wekw-", which mean to speak, or to vocalize. I don't even know if there are any controversies over this. How do you research something so obscure? I guess I could discuss the gradual move from the PIE base into what we know now, using primarily Grimm's and Verner's laws.

And now I'm watching Criminal Minds while analyzing the nonexistent trends in Grimm's laws. Ugh! It started as a vocal fricative, and it's stayed that way ever since! There goes my brilliant idea! And I have no idea what the Great Vowel Shift entails! We haven't covered it yet! I don't have to write about it, but it was something they were talking about in class.

There is some variation, but I don't know when they happened, and they aren't explained by these laws. Can I go to sleep yet?

I am Writer-Rant! Hear me roar!

--Soren, out.

A Dream is a Wish

I have this amazing opportunity to go study abroad in Britain. I want to go so bad. I've been dreaming about this for a year, ever since I knew I could study abroad there.

Is it the right thing to do?

Can I even afford it?

My mother says that the impossible dreams are the best ones to shoot for. This dream is pretty impossible. I'm living on $15 a week, and in order to do this, I'd have to have a $500 deposit, and then get $3200 by July. I want this so bad it hurts, but it seems so hopeless.

Then again, my left hand has been itching for two weeks.

"I'm going to go pray some more."
-Fa Zhou, Mulan


--Soren, out.

I'm Gonna Make Your Head Burn

In addition to blogging, I have now started vlogging. If you know me on YouTube, please wait a few days so I can actually get a good vlog up. If you don't know me YouTube, then lucky you.

--Soren, out.

Airplanes in the Night Sky

I am now addicted to flying.

The first flight was, not gonna lie, terrifying. I wanted to be firmly on the ground throughout the entire takeoff. I wanted OFF. And then I slept through the ride (I hadn't slept that night. Too nervous). Landing was pure bliss. That kind of feel I like.

Takeoff = Adrenaline = NO.
Landing = No Adrenaline = YES.

So at the Dallas-Ft.Worth Airport I got to ride the bus-thingy from one section of the airport to where I needed to go. So fun!

On my second flight, I made myself enjoy the takeoff, so it was super fun. Again, I slept. Being in SLC and knowing my family wasn't there was super weird.

So I got to college safe and sound.

--Soren, out.

Going the Distance, Going for Speed

I did it! I broke the PPC! I was packed before midnight! Now I just have to clean up my mess (mostly old receipts) and then go to bed. But I have to get up in two hours, so I'm wondering if I should just stay up and make sure we get going on time rather than go to sleep and possibly be late.

I'm so nervous about this flying thing. I'm not sure if it's am excited-nervous, or a scared-nervous. Right now, I'm leaning towards scared. And hungry. I'm insanely hungry.

Bon Voyage! Wish me luck!

--Soren, out.

Gonna Go Far, Kid

Today I am packing. It's noon, and I haven't really done anything yet. I have a system:
1. Tell yourself you have a whole day, and that's plenty of time, so don't worry about rushing the packing.
2. Watch a few movies. Or TV. Or read a book. Or play with your cat. Or surf the net. In other words, Procrastinate.
3. Start to think about packing around dinner.
4. Start packing after the kids go to bed and realize you had more to pack than you originally thought.
5. Realize that room in your bag is running out.
6. Panic.
7. Stay up until it's time to go packing. Finish the packing process by the skin of your teeth.
8. Enjoy a well-packed trip!

In case you're wondering, yes I've tried to break the PPC (Packing-Panic-Cycle)...but I always end up following it anyway. Today, I choose to embrace it! And maybe give myself incentive to go pack up my bathroom stuff, at least. Maybe. After some lunch.

Yeah, it ain't gettin' packed til I'm ready to panic.

--Soren, out.

Scream Like a Banshee

I've been having the dreams again. The scary ones where I know I'm going to die. This time I was with my family, and my Grandpa (the one still living) and his...girlfriend, partner, whatever (I don't like her much) are sitting with us, and for some reason get into an argument with my parents, and they say a Chinese phrase (I've forgotten it) which meant something like "Inevitable Death", meaning one of us children had to die.

Rather then let them take my brother, I gave myself up to die. So a noose appeared in the dream living room where everyone was sitting. During the dream, I was running around, sometimes feeling the noose around my neck, trying to find a way out of this death. Nothing worked. There were no solutions, no answers. I had to die.

There's always terror in these dreams, and I feel the terror days after I have the dreams. Right now, I'm so scared. The dreams are so real. I try to look up the meanings of them, but they don't fit. Nothing in my life relates to these dreams at all. None of my stresses, none of my worries. Normally I don't worry if I'm going to be sentenced to death by family, or shot in the head, or in the back, or slashed, or any of the other deaths that I've dreamed. Maybe I need to see a shrink or something. I don't know what to do. If I try telling my parents about them, I feel stupid, because it comes out sounding trivial. And they're so busy with other stuff, they don't want to hear about some stupid little dream. But these dreams make me want to cry.

I have looked death in the face, and I am a coward.

--Soren, out.

But Who Cares? No Big Deal, I Want More!

A Book List
For Glo

Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow
by Jessica Day George

Paranormalcy
by Kiersten White

The Storyteller's Daughter
by Cameron Dokey

Divergent
by Veronica Roth

Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch
by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman

Across the Universe
by Beth Ravis

The Book Thief
by Markus Zusack

Writing Magic
by Gail Carson Levine

Dragon Slippers
by Jessica Day George

Mistborn
by Brandon Sanderson

The Hunger Games
by Suzanne Collins

Song of the Sparrow
by Lisa Ann Sandell

I reckon this is a pretty good list for now. Read on, Glo! Read on!

--Soren, out.

Today I Don't Feel Like Doing Anything

No, really.

Today I stayed in what I slept in until around 3:15, when I had to go down the road to pick up my brother from the bus (which forgot to let him off, so I was stuck there for an hour wondering where the heck he was). I should do dishes. I should do laundry. I should at least make up my bed.

Have I done it? No.

Why haven't I done it? I just don't care. That pretty much describes how I've been feeling for the past couple of weeks: I don't care. I am completely apathetic about everything. And then other people talk to me. And I don't care enough about my own problems, let alone theirs.

Disclaimer: This post isn't directed towards or talking about anyone in particular. It's just a general statement about everyone. Don't get offended.

The only emotion I feel strong enough is something akin to anger. But only when I'm listening to songs that help me feel that. Which really, could be anything.

Really, my life could be summed up in Empty, by Ray LaMontagne. Which just so happens to be the first song that plays on my playlist (for now).

The mellowness, the last verse, the general vibe of the song. Yup. That's me right now. Maybe it'll change when I go to college and get a life.

Until then....yeah, I've got no advice. Enjoy your life. What's left of it.

--Soren, out.

Airplanes

Packing, packing, packing. That's what I'm doing. In my head, at least. I still have a week and a half before I leave. I can't wait! But at the same time, I'm insanely nervous! Why, you ask?

I've never flown in a plane before.

It's true! Whenever I went somewhere, it was always with my family, and we always drove (can you imagine the money it would take for a family of nine to fly anywhere?) and so I never had a reason to fly in a plane. So now I get to ride in a plane for the first time in my life all alone.

In all honesty, the plane ride doesn't scare me so much. I'll probably just sleep through it. It's the layover that gets me. Lots of people running around, and that nagging that I always get when I'm doing something new that I am doing it wrong, or I've got the wrong gate, or I've missed the next plane, and then comes the panic, and then comes the hyperventilation, and then the frantic phone calls to my mother.

I'm trying to avoid all that.

Bag of peppermints for calming my freaking-out-sense down? Check.
A good book to read while waiting for the next plane/bus/whatever? Check.
iPod movies to watch while I fly? Check.
Tablet to play on while waiting again in the airport? Check.
Confidence to be able to do it on my own? Loading....

--Soren, out.

You Can't Keep a Good Dog Down

We have a dog.

Just for clarification, I hate dogs. I can't stand them. Especially small dogs. All they do is smell, and they pant all the time and it's really loud and it sounds like they're hyperventilating, and they go poop in the yard, and they're not very cuddly, not like a cat. They don't purr, they don't figure things out like a cat does (which can be both a blessing and a curse), and they're just...ich. Give me an independent cat over a dependent, slobbery, smelly dog any day.

We now have a little Shih Tzu named Remy. He is a dog. I hate dogs.

This dog is starting to grow on me.

But I still hate dogs.

--Soren, out.

Sons of Odin

I am SO gushing over Loki right now! The one from the movie Thor. Not from the comic books.

Since the dawn of time, I have loved the character Loki in Norse mythology. Was it my wacked love of antiheroes? Was it the beginning of my devotion to brain over brawn? I dunno.

Either way, here I am gushing once again over Loki. He's replaced Snape as my wallpaper.

Dang it, now I'm going to go cry over Snape.

MEN! Geez!

--Soren, out.

I'll Never Be What You Want Me to Be

I. Am. Not. My. Mother.

I don't care if I look like her, talk like her, act like her, whatever.

I AM NOT MY MOTHER.

I am so sick of people comparing me to her all the time! My friends do it, my mother's friends do it, my family does it! Even I do it, when I'm away! I hate it! I hate how I feel I have to resort to it! I hate how I feel that it's me! It's not! But everywhere I turn, everything I say is compared to her.

Do you even see me?

Do you even freaking see who I am?

Or do you see some brainless Mother Clone?

No wonder I don't know who I am. I can't get away from my mother.

--Soren, out.

What Would You Think of Me Now?

It's been a year. A long year.

Every time I hear "Hear You Me" by JimmyEatWorld, I think of you, Bryce. You may never know how much you made an impact on my life. I said opening prayer today in church, and almost prayed for good mojo, just for you. But I figured that it was your thing, and I couldn't take it from you.

Whenever I get music, I make sure to get the whole album, because you told me never to be the kind of girl that only got singles from a band. I haven't forgotten it.

Remember our emo bracelets? Yup, still got mine. I still remember the day we made a emo bracelet team with them. Well, sorta. We had a moment. That's all that matters.

I remember the day you died. I was at a dance. I cried all night. I couldn't bear a world without your light. I still can't believe you're gone.

It doesn't help that I had the HUGEST crush on you, eh? I bet you knew, but in case you didn't...well, now ya know. I thought you were the funniest, cutest guy, and you were so easy to talk to. You were so full of life...there's no way that something as simple as water could take that away. It's impossible. You should still be here.

It's been a year, and I still haven't gotten over my grief.

I miss you.

All the Small Things

Sometimes I cry for the stupidest reasons.

Like tonight. Watching movies that I really didn't need to cry in. I always cry when someone is lost (dead, or in the process of dying) in movies. I sobbed for a solid half hour in Titanic, not just when Jack froze to death. I cried when a daughter had had her heart broken (by Death, ironically) and then realized that her daddy was going to die soon. And then I cried when Death (who loved her back) gave her up because he loved her so much. I cried when a sister watched her sister fall to her death, and blame herself throughout the movie. I cried when her mother blamed herself for the sister's death. I cried when the Indians were massacred by the settlers.

I cry a lot in movies.

I always feel like a wuss, because other people are like "whatever, it's just a movie", and I'm all "but what if this was YOU? What if YOU realized that this was the last time you would see your father alive, and that this was the last slow dance you were ever going to have with him? What if YOU saw your innocent people hunted down, and killed mercilessly just because they had a different culture, or skin color? How would YOU feel trying to calm your children, because you knew that there wouldn't be room on the boats after the rich people got on to save them from drowning?"

And then I get this ache, like I want more than anything to reach into the movie and ease their pain, or save them somehow. To me, the characters in these movies are real, and I would give anything to spare them the pain they feel.

--Soren, out

Hedwig's Theme

Not only was Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 one of the most amazing movies ever! But Alice Marvels has a magnificent Harry Potter Giveaway! You could win HP Pt. 1, a customized house mug, and a customized house keychain! I think I'd get Gryffindor, just for the sake of it. Or maybe Ravenclaw...naw, Gryffindor. I love it too much.

Go! Win! Now! No! Wait! Don't win! I want to win! Bust still! Go!

--Soren, out.

Look at This Place, Isn't it Neat?

We're in Kentucky! And we're renting a house in the country, which I have to say (minus that annoying, battery-draining lack of cell phone service) is completely amazing! It's beautiful here! There are some horses that graze in the field that is right next to our yard, and sometimes they stick their heads over. I've pet one of them..once.

Now all that's missing is a trip to the library, which I am eagerly awaiting. Without a neighborhood or friends close by (and..uh...no license...) There's not much to do. Please, o ye watchers who live near me, visit me! Come kidnap me and expose me to the Fayette Mall! So I can go to the Disney store and get new mugs for college!

With love a few stray peppermints...

--Soren, out

Next to Normal

We're hoping to move on Saturday. Most people, when they move across the country, are kinda freaked out. Me? Eh, it's normal. This is my fourth time doing it, and it's nothing new. We hardly know anything about where we're moving specifically, or what's going to happen, but if winging it were a degree, I'd have my Master's by now.

Also on SorNews, I've created a new blog. My Letters To You is where I'll write letters to my friends. The good, the bad, the ugly, the gorgeous, whatever I'd write in a real letter will be there. Check it out from time to time, see if you pop up.

--Soren, out

Jai Ho

Do you believe in destiny?

I'm extremely frustrated right no...this whole money thing for college is freaking me out.

I was looking on Facebook saw someone two years older than me talk about something he and his wife did. His wife. I can't even imagine saying anything like that, to have a husband and to do things with him. I'm too freaking young right now to be married. I'm too young to worry about anything like marriage. Anyone my age is too young to be worrying about marriage. I mean, for goodness sakes, you don't even know yourself yet! I've been living on my own for two semesters and I still don't know myself very well yet!

I might believe in destiny, but I don't believe in love. Not right now, not for me.

--Soren, out

Just Don't Deceive Me, Pt. 1

Once upon a time there was a girl. She was pretty when she smiled, ugly when she cried, and she laughed too much. She used to have two cats, but one ran away and broke her heart. The other cat was given away by her parents because they were moving. In her parents' eyes this was a necessary sacrifice. In her eyes, this was betrayal.

But enough of that, because this makes the girl cry, and she is ugly when she cries. Her face gets all pinchy, and you can't tell if she's smiling or not, and her face gets red. Like I said, not pretty.

Spring Nicht

Yeah, yeah, I know that "Spring Nicht" really means "Don't Jump" in German. But right now I'm lazy, and wanted something with the word "Spring" in it. Why, you ask? It's simple really.

I'm entering the Alice Marvel's Spring Giveaway Contest. Why? Because I could win a FREE book, or (even better), a KINDLE! You should join....or not, because if you don't, there's a better chance of me winning...I jest! Join! Go! And sign up for the daily newsletter! That newsletter is what I LIVE for every day! It's so amazing, and gives me the best books to look up! AND has updates on the latest book-based movies (Hunger Games, anyone?)

--Soren, out

Conjunction Junction

I just registered for my classes this Fall, and I'm SO excited!

I get to take, among other classes, History of the English Language (I keep wanting to say 'Human Language') and Fundamentals of Literary Analysis! Does it get any better? I think NOT!

In other news, I found the table I want so bad that it HURTS for only $124.95 (normally it's $199.99). I want it so bad! Do I get it? Do I save my money? I'd rather buy it than buy a new sketchbook, which I need desperately.

--Soren, out

It's a New Day....

Lately I've been sounding really depressed. It's been a really depressing time. Really stressful.

But it's getting better, now! The constant rain has stopped, and I've been getting out in the sun, and I've been hanging out with awesome friends, and I'm happier now. My dreams have even turned a bit happier. I don't dread them so much, anyway.

The best news is that there are two open positions at my dream job - the library! I printed out an application, and as soon as they're open I'm running it to them. I really want this job. I've been dreaming of working at a library since I can remember.

And that's my good news moment.

--Soren, out.

I Miss the Mountains

Alrighty, folks, here's the big news:

We're moving back to Kentucky.

Well, my family is. I'm not. Not yet, at least. My family will be moving to Kentucky, and I'll be staying in Utah. I'll have to find a place to stay for the rest of the summer, find out how to get to Idaho, figure out how to get my crap from the storage unit to my dorm, etc., etc.

On top of that, I'm headed to KY for Christmas Break, and that means I have to go by plane. By myself. For the first time in my life. I think that's what scares me the most. And then I'll be headed to KY for the summer.

All of this on less money than I got last year from scholarships and junk. Freaking. Out.

I really don't want to have to deal with this moving crap right now.

--Soren, out

Watch For Me By the Moonlight....

Staying up all night is better than the dreams.

It's worth being tired the next day to stay alive.

I Can't Wake Up....

I don't want to sleep anymore. I wish that I could relive that time in college where I was too tired to dream. My dreams have been scaring me.

I had lots of dreams like this before. Come to think of it, I've always had stages in my life that have dreams like this. Each time they scare me, and the fear has been escalating.

Why am I afraid of my dreams?

They are fear incarnate. There are no bogeymen, there are no jumping ghosts. There is death, and pain, and fear, and hopelessness.

I dreamed that a girl had to stab herself, and I helped her do it. I dreamed that I was kidnapped, and held ransom, and then they lined us up and shot each of us in the head. I have died a thousand deaths in my dreams, and the fear and the pain - pain that I can feel even after I wake up - are getting too much to bear.

There is no escape into dreams anymore. It's a prison that my mind builds for me.

Now You're Gone....

I think Lireal is gone for good. There's no sign of her anywhere, and even though I didn't find her body when I looked a couple weeks ago, the chances that she's coming home are slim to none. If she were alive and out there, she would have come home by now.

Thinking this is like someone punching me in the gut. I feel breathless and overwhelmed by a stabbing pain every time I have to think about this. I've spent the last two weeks sobbing. I have a feeling that I'm going to spend a lot more like that.

It feels like a betrayal, like I'm giving up on her. But my hope is wearing thin, and every time I get a glimpse of it, something ruins it and I spend the rest of the day crying, begging God to bring my best friend home. I can't understand how this could happen, or why. I don't know why she isn't home. And that wondering, that not knowing if she's alive or dead, if there's still hope to be had...that's the worst part.

I don't know how much I can take before I break.

Love of Mine, Someday You Will Die....

Do we feign sleep when we die, or do we feign death when we sleep?

And If I Bleed, I'll Bleed...

It frightens me sometimes how fragile a human life is. If I wanted to, I could take a bath, and let my face sink beneath the surface, and I could be dead. It would be so easy. It's so odd to think that we consider ourselves the wisest, strongest, and most invincible of creatures, and yet our lives could be ended so easily.

I marvel at the healing capabilities our bodies have. When I get a cut, it only takes a couple of days for the cut to be covered with new, fresh skin, erasing the mark that the broken skin left behind. I used to have scars on my arm, but now they're gone. It only took them a year, if that, to fade away. How spectacular to have a body that regenerates so efficiently.

I think perspective has a lot to do with it. Take your skin, for instance. It's thick enough to hide your bones, to protect your skull, to only scrape once you fall on the pavement. In the next moment, it's thin as paper. Your skin is nothing when a knife scrapes across it. How strange to think that something so fragile, so strong is the blanket that holds us in, that ties the different parts of us together. Our body is encased in a spiderweb, something beautiful and delicate, but ultimately strong.

Missing

Poll verdict: 50/50

Seriously?? C'mon, hopefully more than two of you read this blog...maybe? Ugh. Oh well.

Because of the lack of consensus, I am compromising. I'm going to stick to using songs, but instead of just using song titles, I am also going to allow myself to use song lyrics. I like this little arrangement, yes?

That's the good news.

Bad news: my cat is missing. Lireal (leer-ee-uhl) (n.) the most beautiful, wonderful, perfect, loving, amazing cat in the world.

I got her the week before my 14th birthday. She was only six months old, and she's been with me ever since (that's nearly five years). She's gone across the country with me. One day last week she was just...gone. I can't find her. And my heart is breaking, because she's my world. She's the longest friend I've ever had.

I really miss her.

Part of Your World

I wrote this for my English final project, and I really love it. Eventually I'll rewrite it, or at least fix the ending, because it's really rushed.


I remember in flashes. I remember the first time that I went to the surface. I was fifteen. I saw the boy. He looked a little older than me. I thought he saw me. I swam away.

I came again. It was two weeks after I had first come up. He wasn’t there. I came back every night for five years. I watched him grow. I grew, too. Our hair grew a foot each year we lived. The old ladies, the ones who were almost a grand 300, had hair that they dressed themselves with, a long silver dress that curled around their fins. That is every mermaid’s dream. Our hair is our one pride.

I remember crawling onto shore. The sand felt like broken glass, digging into my skin. The sand behind me turned red. I never reached him. He didn’t see me. He ran away. After I did. I didn’t go home that night. I couldn’t, not bleeding like that. She found me.

I remember the trail of blood in the water. I got away. No one could know I was bleeding. They would know that I had been up there, on the sand. They would know I had fallen in love with one of them. A monster.

She took me. I didn’t fight. I knew who she was. Secretly, in a place inside me I wouldn’t admit existed, I wanted this. She could give me what I wanted.

“Are you sure?” she asked me. Her smile stretched from cheekbone to cheekbone. Black magic twisted at the corners of her thin lips, tearing them even farther across her face. Her skin was gray and tight, her hands a mess of gnarled bone.

Then there was the pain. First she cut my tongue. “Payment,” she hissed. Then I felt myself catch fire, spreading through my fin, burning it apart into two parts, searing my gills shut. The fire spread into my lungs. I couldn’t breathe here anymore.

I remember my first breath of pure air. I gasped for it, clutching at it, shoving it down my throat, past my tongue-less mouth. I could not lick the salt from my lips anymore.

It was worth it when I saw him. He was on the sand, digging his feet in. I stepped onto the sand. I fell down. It still felt like broken glass. My feet were soft, like my hands. They were pierced, bleeding. He saw the blood, followed the trail to me. He jumped up.

“Who are you?” he asked, and I knew then that he didn’t remember the night he had almost drowned. I remembered that night. His ship had crashed against the rocks. He wasn’t saved by xedshis crew. They couldn’t find him. He was lost in the water. I was watching. I saw him. I saved him.

He took me to his castle. They cleaned me there, washed the salt from my lips. They scraped my skin raw with their brushes. My feet bled on the tile. A man carried me upstairs.

The ladies wrapped my feet in the softest cloth, trying to cushion it against e floor. My feet , though still stabbed, no longer bled.

I remember the days we spent together. He was being kind. I fell even more in love with him. He was perfect, even more perfect than I had thought before. Each day he smiled more. Each day it was easier to ignore the knives in my feet.

I remember when he held my hand. He pulled me in front of him, and looked down at me. The sun was setting behind me, casting shadows across his face. He opened his mouth, as if wanting to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he leaned down, and he kissed me. I would have walked a thousand miles on bleeding feet to have that moment last forever.

I thought that he loved me. When she came, that other girl, I was proved wrong. She was beautiful, in way that I could never be out of the sea. And she could speak. She could sing. She made my throat ache. I could hum a tune, but I couldn’t sing like her.

He started spending more time with her. He had seemed to have forgotten me. But I had not forgotten him. I did little things for him, things that would mean something only between him and me. It was my last-ditch effort to try and have him choose me.

On their wedding day, my sisters came to me. Their arms bled as they crawled upon the shore. Their hair was short.

“Take it,” they said, and tossed me the dagger the sea witch had made from their hair. “Take it and kill him with it, and then you can come and live with us again.”

I didn’t want to go back to being a mermaid, swimming for two hundred and eighty more years, only to turn into the sea. I didn’t want to be without a soul. But to get a soul, I’d have win the love of a human, and I’d already lost that. I would have to die tomorrow, not having lived out my three hundred years, and not having gained a soul. That seemed worse. I took the knife.

I remember their wedding night. I waited until they had both fallen asleep. I trailed blood on the floor, walking on the cold stone to their bed. I watched them, their chests moving together, breathing as one. I saw the joy that even sleep couldn’t wipe away from her face, joy that had almost been mine. I looked at his face. I raised the knife. In that moment, he shifted in his sleep, and murmured her name. His voice was so soft, and so sweet. I couldn’t kill him. I realized in that moment that I hadn’t stayed for a soul, but to make him happy. In the end, that was all that mattered to me.

I dropped the knife. The prince woke up, and he saw me. I turned and ran.

I ran to the sea, blood trailing behind me. I ran the wrong way, towards the rocks with little pools of water in them, water trapped from the high tides. I tried climbing through them, but it hurt too much. I collapsed in one of the pools, and I let myself cry.

I heard footsteps climbing over the rocks as the sun started to rise. I turned on my back, looking up, and the prince was there. His face was worried as he looked at the blood that the water had not soaked off of me yet.

The sun rose higher. I felt myself relax, as if I were falling asleep. I fought to stay awake. I didn’t want to die. It scared me. His hand cupped my face as he leaned close and whispered to me. He lifted my hand to his face.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” he said.

I knew he was talking about the blood. He knew I was dying. I squeezed his hand, letting him know that I forgave him. I loved him too much not to. And finally, I let go.

“Come with us,” I heard. I opened my eyes. The air around me had taken the form of girls, most of them a little older than me. Confused, I looked around. I was in the air. Down below, I could see my body as the prince placed it gently in the ocean.

“You saved his life in return for yours,” one of them said. “And for that, you have been given a soul. You’re one of us now. You are a daughter of air.”

I remember in flashes. There’s no reason to remember any other way. There’s no use dwelling on the past now. There is only joy, when I dance unseen with the children of the prince, when I watch over the love the prince and his princess share for each other. And sometimes, I swear he knows I’m there. He steps in the ocean with his princess, and together they look up and smile, and I can tell they are remembering in flashes, too.

Breaking the Habit (pt.2)

Since the beginning of time (also considered the start of this blog) the blog titles have been song titles. While very catchy, it keeps me from updating nearly as much as I'd like, because I have to go searching for new song titles that:

a) accurately depict the emotion of my post, and
b) I haven't used yet.

This is somewhat problematic. However, if these post titles bring you glee and joy and general frabjousness, I will keep using them. If they don't, then I might switch over to other methods of titling my blog posts.

How can you affect the outcome? Send me a comment with your feelings on the matter.

P.S. I'm also changing how I end my posts. You know that awkward moment at the end of every post where you want to say something witty to let your readers know that you're done? You that really awkward moment when all you can think of is not witty at all? I figured out a solution. Soren, out. As in over and out. A nice way to end, yes? (I'm crediting my ending to be reflective of Sak, one of my favorite artist's off DA. She's awesome.)

Enjoy your life.

--Soren, out.

Breaking the Habit

My semester is over (finally!).

Now I'm off to reading Harry Potter! I'm still on book 6 (Half-Blood Prince). I'm supposed to read books 6 and 7 by Friday so that I can watch Deathly Hallows Pt. 1 with mah friend, but I don't think that that's going to happen. I'm still in "Oh gosh, I can't be reading because I have loads of homework still!" phase. I dislike this phase. Very much. So I'm stuck almost halfway through book 6.

Have I mentioned lately how amazing free laundry is?

Decisive Battle

I had the weirdest dream last night.

The first thing I remember about it was that I was in a battle. I got hurt. Many times. There was so much blood. I was in blue armor. I had a cape. There was someone else, a guy. He was hurt, too. I remember there being a girl there, and I was thinking "Don't let her see me. I don't want her to get scared." But she saw me. And blood came pouring out. My armor opened and blood mixed with water and poured out. I felt sick.

I had to shower the blood off later in the dream. The guy was handling the water pressure/temperature knobs, which were outside of the curtained stall I was in for some reason. The curtains were white. The floor was tiled. Little tiny square tiles, about the size of the ones in my dorm bathroom. My wounds were pink scars. I don't know how they healed so quickly. But I was still injured. The water still had to be gentle, and warm, not hot.

I don't remember hurting. That's the strange thing. Normally when I have a dream where I get hurt, I can feel where it happened. I can still feel where six bullets shot me in the back in one of my dreams.

Next I remember being in a church. It was the foyer of the church building in Danville, Kentucky, where I grew up. This segment of the dream was completely unrelated to the last part of the dream. Maybe. I feel like something more happened in my last dream, something that I can't remember.

It's Sunday, and I'm dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. I ask my dad to take me home so I can change. We take a detour. Somehow we end up in what almost seems like the middle of nowhere, until we reach a wooden shed that is a garage. Shed is too small a word. It was bigger than a shed. My grandpa was there. My dad's dad. We had ridden up in a red car. He climbed into the passenger seat, I sat in the back, Dad was driving.

Then I remember being in a gym. It had carpeted floor, like the church in Danville, but the setup was more like the Lexington stake center gym. Someone was being chosen. They wanted someone funny. Everyone in the group wanted me to be chosen. The lady in charge picked another girl, saing something about church humor not being the same. I tried to feel happy for the girl that was chosen, but deep inside I wanted to be the one that was chosen.

I don't remember anything after this. It all seems so random. These are the parts that I remember the most.

My back hurt when I woke up.

I Hate Everything About You

I was going to do something similar to the list/poem from "10 Things I Hate About You", but right now, I'm too angry.

I HATE YOU.

I hate how EVERY time you bat those stupid cocky eyes in my direction I fall head over heels over you, knowing that we will NEVER be! I hate how you think my entire world revolves around you, and that no one else would save me if I were drowning! I hate dropping everything the moment you give me attention! I'm so sick of waiting and wanting and wishing and nothing ever comes of it, just heartbreak and weeks of tears. I hate how you know all this, but nothing ever changes. I hate how you're all that I can talk about, and how my roommates still think I'm in love with you. I hate how you can tease me all you want and you don't think it does a thing to me because you're "just playing". I used to go to sleep to wake up to you. Now I go to sleep to get away from you.

Guess what. I'm not. I'm tired of having my heart broken. I'm tired of being there for you, and you being there for me. I hate being so close and so far to someone. I deserve someone who doesn't have to edit themselves for me.

I would rather be alone and unloved than waiting for you.

Happy Valentine's Day.