grey-scale

reading reading reading.
sleeping sleeping sleeping.
dreaming dreaming dreaming.
watching watching watching.
waiting waiting waiting.
listening listening listening.
seeing seeing seeing.

repeat.




but i don't care. i'll sit here in front of this computer's fluorescent tones. and listen to these same 4/4 beats. read over the same words. nothing new, nothing real. nothing i can hold onto.
perhaps tomorrow i'll go downtown and hitch a train, tramp style.
and i don't know, i'd just give anything for a distraction from my grey-scale life.
because something may change, but it's only another shade of grey. and grey will always be grey. never white, not even black, and never any other color. grey. or gray? really, i think the name confusion is the only intersting/exciting thing about grey/gray.

this is my face.

i know that millions of people watch the Olympics, but is it really necessary for a woman competing to wear make-up? really. sure, you could win and then it'll be your moment in the sun, and naturally, you'll want to look and feel good, but bright purple eyeshadow when you're about to run 400m? come on. that just looks a bit unprofessional to me. but whatever, i just notice things like that while watching the games.


sometimes, just sometimes, i hear a song, and it sounds so good and perfect and beautiful.
and sometimes, just sometimes, i listen to it again, and it sounds even better.
and then i wish i could live. live that song's life.


oh, my soul.
tomorrow=cupcakes. my optimism is baked into one single serving frosted baked good. with strawberries, mind you.

calm down

i have been writing everything on stickie notes and sticking them everywhere. i mean everything. from the moment i wake up, i open my eyes and see the first one, "wake up" and i see the second one, "seriously, wake up now." so sometimes i wake up, sometimes i drift back to sleep, but whenever i do open my eyes enough to read more than those two, i see one my ceiling: "thank God you're alive." so i do. and i need that reminder, really, i do. and it helps. i mean, am i really going to ignore a yellow peice of paper? no, because it's not telling me to do anything difficult or out of my way. so i thank Him. along with those, i have other various jewls hanging out: "you aren't dying here", "you are beautiful", "wash your face", "try not to cry today", "no happy fits of rage today, okay?", "read.". sometimes these reminders help me, but they can also annoy me and seem to mock me. but i like them. even though i write them, i feel like someone is giving me instructions to help me live through these years.


sometimes urges come. when i'm so down, and everyone's too loud and fast when they walk past me. and i want to forget this youth. and i want a battle. and i'm lost.
and sometimes urges leave. when i can breathe, and i can feel with all my senses. and i feel needed. and i hear your voice in it's kind, sentimental tone.
then, sometimes i am just scared and hopeful at the same time. and i want to take chances. and i'm not scared. because, what's to be scared of? so you might die? probably not though. so you'll get hurt? you'll grow and heal. so you may get scarred? no one really notices, and anyone who does either doesn't say anything, or cares enough to listen to your story. because we all have stories. and doesn't everyone want to tell the most exciting story they have? but you can only get that story by doing something extravagant. so you know, i'm not scared anymore. maybe i'll fall off the side of a cliff, maybe i'll get sick, maybe i'll lose someone close. but, i'll be okay. i've fallen from heights before, i'm still here. i've been sick, and i'm still here. and i've lost people dear to me, and i'm better than i was before. what do i have to lose?

right?





and i'm not depressed or anything, school just really gets to me. stress and stuff.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

oh happy day!!!!
first, spend 6 hours doing a job i despise, then cried for two hours due to stress caused by the first week of school (i kid you not), worked on schoolwork (including a collage about myself, which included ryan adams[and other people])
and now, i'm listening to The Green Green Grass by American Analog Set, and i decide to check ryan adam's website....and he is blogging again!!!!!!!!!!!ahhhh what a good moment!
i have no life, and get excited about this guy blogging. once again, i have no life.
but i don't care, because now i can read about ryan's day. :)))

i keep going back and forth between Bob Dylan and American Analog Set(both are playing in separate rooms), which is a strange, yet really good combination.


*additional note: i really have some huge fan crush on Ryan Adams. it's bad, and i should just grow up about it, but mmm there is no way i can. i spend too much time searching pictures of him, reading articles about him, and now there's a blog, and i have no life, so it works perfectly.

Southern Research Institute buys Southside's landmark Quinlan Castle and will figure out how to best use the decrepit building.

i was reading the paper today and found out two things.
1. Birmingham's curfew had been changed. 17 and under have to be home before 10 pm except for Saturday on which the curfew is extended to midnight. apparently, the city council is trying to decide on what to do for the first time a child offends the new law. They are thinking of charging the parents $500 the first offense, but they're considering the town's low income families, and so they are trying to change it to just having a written warning on the first offense.

2. SRI bought the Quinlan Castle property. They have 15 years to decide what they will use it for. under the agreement with the city of Birmingham, they have to keep up the facade of the castle, so SRI is considering either making it new laboratories/office space or using it as a steam plant. They plan to begin repairs such as replacing the roof, windows, and doors soon. And they will evaluate the building to see if it is inhabitable and what they will use it for. the city can buy the property back for the same price ($400,000) plus fees the company used to beautify the building. (if you're interested in reading the entire article, you can go to al.com and search for Quinlan Castle in the Birmingham section, and the article will show up)

disappointment.

i love that castle. finally, molly and i found a way to get into it. and now, along with the end of summer, some company has bought it. unbelievable. i'm so crushed. i personally don't care if they keep the exterior the same. the real captivating part is the interior because it is so rundown and yes, vandalized. but it's so haunting and incredible to see appliances like refrigerators, ovens, and televisions decaying in there. as well as seeing what else has been left there from other people that have broken in. i cannot believe i'll probably never get to go in again. i'm just hoping hoping hoping that SRI doesn't start cleaning or putting up better security for a while, because i just have to go back one last time.

disbelief.

take it slow, take it easy on me, shed some light, shed some light on it please

don't. please, don't do this to me. i cannot handle any thing else to go wrong at this point, seeing as my life is a hurricane. i can't. so don't. just...don't, please. i don't want to admit it, but i need you. more than you're aware. i need some stability in my life. you've been there, patient and waiting. and i don't know why you doubt now. i'm sorry if i made you feel any less of who you are. that's why i kept what i did for so long, and why i couldn't find the right words to explain. don't leave me stranded. i just want you next to me, so don't walk away. no, please, don't.
I don't know what to call this.


i've been increasingly people-watching lately. i feel so interested in stranger's lives. in the least weird way of course. i mean, every day, someone has the best day of their life. every day, someone cries out in sorrow. every day, someone is in love. every day, someone is rejected from love. to me, that is some kind of heart ache. sometimes when i read Post Secret or Find of the Day, i feel like i am harboring that person's secret now. but it feels good. it feels personal. i think those websites are great, just because now in the world, it is impersonal and no one wants to get "too close" and that causes some nasty things to happen. i mean, obviously anyone who sends a post card in to Post Secret, cannot tell anyone else. for one reason or another, they have no one they can trust their secret with. and sometimes i read one, and i just can't breathe. it's such an indescribable feeling i get. and i want my life to mean more. and i want to mean more. and i want everyone to mean more to everyone. everyone has a story. stories are no excuses for anything, but still, everyone has one. and i mean there are well over a billion people in this world. imagine all their lives. just thinking about that, and typing it, i am overwhelmed. and i want to know. i want to hear the people's tragedies and the people's ecstasy.

and so instead of writing an essay for English class, i've been reading all the "Finds of the Day".


"The disision I made eats away at my very soul. I do not know how much longer I can standiteach day gets harder and harder. I don't know why it's so hard I know I did what I thought was right. This most likely the most embarassing part about it... I can't stop dreaming about you. I try to think of anyone or anything else. I can't get you out of my mind. I don't even know why I'mm writing this I'm never going to give it to you. I"

raw regret and heartache. gosh.

RSS

hello, my name's katharine, and i have Restless Soul Syndrome. it is quite a serious problem. you see, i can't sleep at night and cannot focus during the day do to my soul aching and yearning to move and see the earth. this is caused by a number of things: stress, a feeling of captivity and longing, a knowledge of a better life than what one already has, or it is a disorder one is born with. the only way to relieve the symptoms is to see the beauty of this earth we live on, and breathe it all in. if not treated soon, one will resort to drastic measures such as angst, moodiness, writing what one feels and perhaps accompianing it with some music, performing some art form to relieve the yearning, ect.