Crash Into Me?

 

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“Crash Into Me”

You’ve got your ball
you’ve got your chain
tied to me tight tie me up again
who’s got their claws
in you my friend
Into your heart I’ll beat again
Sweet like candy to my soul
Sweet you rock
and sweet you roll
Lost for you I’m so lost for youYou come crash into me
And I come into you
I come into you
In a boys dream
In a boys dream

Touch your lips just so I know
In your eyes, love, it glows so
I’m bare boned and crazy for you
When you come crash
into me, baby
And I come into you
In a boys dream
In a boys dream

If I’ve gone overboard
Then I’m begging you
to forgive me
in my haste
When I’m holding you so girl
close to me

Oh and you come crash
into me, baby
And I come into you
Hike up your skirt a little more
and show the world to me
Hike up your skirt a little more
and show your world to me
In a boys dream.. In a boys dream

Oh I watch you there
through the window
And I stare at you
You wear nothing but you
wear it so well
tied up and twisted
the way I’d like to be
For you, for me, come crash
into me

~Dave Matthews Band
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My Dad Likes The Eagles

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Hi everyone,

This week, I have a real conundrum on my hands. Yes, its been lovely weather, yes school is easy now, yes I finally paid back those lone sharks, YES I finally got one marriage proposal. But things inside me are dark. They are so dark.

Last night, I went home, to my Dad’s house. My dad is a true bachelor, he has a spittoon that he won in a spitting contest, and he owns a copy of “Making Divorce Easier On Your Child”, which he did not do. He turned a shelf on his book shelf into a liquor cabinet. He bought a Hawaiian shirt when he went to Hawaii.

I’ve always known my dad was a Dad, but it turns out I didn’t know the extent of this sickness. I came home last night to my dad using his surround sound speakers to play “Take it Easy”, by the Eagles. He was crying. He was sober.

Before I could say anything, he said, “The Eagles are an American rock band formed in Los Angeles in 1971 by Glenn Frey, Don Henley, Bernie Leadon, and Randy Meisner. With five number-one singles, six Grammy Awards, five American Music Awards, and six number one albums, the Eagles were one of the most successful musical acts of the 1970s. At the end of the 20th century, two of their albums, Their Greatest Hits (1971–1975) and Hotel California, were ranked among the 20 best-selling albums in the United States according to the Recording Industry Association of America. Hotel California is ranked 37th in Rolling Stones list of “The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time” and the band was ranked number 75 on the magazine’s 2004 list of the 100 Greatest Artists of All Time.[2]” 

I left and cried in the stairwell. How traumatizing!

Paganism and Throw Pillows

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Hi everyone!

The weather is so nice now, and everyone has allergies! This makes it so, so much easier to justify why I am ALWAYS crying! Wow!

This week I am crying because my throat hurts. You see, my mom raised me well and taught me that I should always be there for my friends and take care of them. My mother has MANY embroidered throw pillows that tell me to care for my friends also. Here are some examples:

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Anyway, so my good friend got very sick this week, and I went to take care of her. We watched many episodes of Seinfeld, but mostly to block out the sound of her neighbors also watching Seinfeld. Then, we made popcorn and did a pagan ritual. But during the spit and blood sharing portion, I got her sickness. Now, my throat hurts, and I can’t stop crying and coughing!

Thanks a lot, Pagan Gods!

So many!

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HeyaHiya

How’s the last few weeks been treating you all? It’s been such lovely weather, and school is pulling through to a close. Many people are gearing up to take long summer trips, or go prom shopping, or they are anxiously awaiting their Gov Ball passes in the mail. At least once a day, the hallways erupt into cheers as another senior promposes to someone they swear is just a friend. People sit outside to eat their baconeggandcheeses at lunch. Iced coffee is an acceptable beverage (though it never wasn’t). Everyone has committed to colleges and universities.

As usual, I have been weeping my life away.

Because there are so, so many reasons why I am crying this time, I’m going to make a short list:

  1. The doctor said I’m officially done growing. I will never be tall enough to be a fashion model or a basketball player. My genetics have closed the door on so many height-based opportunities, and I’m so young.
  2. I’m so young.
  3. I can’t seem to own matching socks. This is highly distressing.
  4. I wanted to make a concept album but I never followed through, now I want to make it again. This could be good, except for the fact that I want to make a concept album.
  5. I never got to be a preteen Youtube sensation like Rosie Courage.
  6. My dad gave me 20 dollars today.

I can’t tell if it’s allergies or straight up tears I’m crying, but it’s amazing. I love to hurt!

Until next time!

help

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Hey cuties!

Has anyone been outside lately? Has anyone been enjoying the spring weather? Has anyone heard the birds chirp, felt the sunshine, seen the crocuses and daffodils and tulips poking their heads up out of the flower beds?

I fucking haven’t.

You see, it’s hard to be outside if you are stuck on a train, underground, completely immobile. This happens to me at least 20 times a day. I have begun to live on the subway, because the pure awfulness of its service is keeping me hostage.

I like to be as fun and bubbly as possible on this blog, but I’m afraid I simply cannot Keep My Cool any longer. This is getting far out of hand. I haven’t left this dingy, poorly-lit A train car since two days ago, and the MTA website still boasts “good service”. I don’t know what to do. The walls are closing in on me. Everyone has been nervously eyeing each other but saying nothing. A mariachi band has been playing La Bomba for seventeen hours straight. It’s still Showtime. Every now and then, the conductor swallows the mic and gargles that there is train traffic ahead of us, we should be moving shortly.

I can’t stop crying. There is mascara all over my face- my eyes, my cheeks, my nose, my chin. I can’t stop weeping, and everyone is looking at me. I am so hungry, so hopeless. So tired. My eyes are like little sun dried tomatoes, but I haven’t seen the sun in so long.

Help

No Good Reason

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April is here, and so are my tears!

While I’m happy the weather is getting nice again, I also know that humanity has broken the planet, and there’s no way to tell if these sunny days are here to stay. The human race is a parasite. The birds are singing, but not for much longer!

This week, I had absolutely no good reason to cry. I know, it’s hard to believe. There are always a multitude of good reasons to cry: late trains, confusing friends, societal pressure to succeed in a typical fashion, the gentle whisper of death lurking underneath every uttered word. But this week was good. I slept well, woke up, enjoyed my food, and encountered no issues. I got way into reading and listening to Johnny Cash, music I don’t often feel the need to cry to! It was so odd.

So naturally, I got home on Sunday night and burst into tears. See, I was eating cashews (unsalted) and realized how boring every day life is. Media has lied to us. We will not all have great loves, great losses, monumental achievements. Some of us just eat cashews and then we die.

By the time I finished, my whole face tingled with angst. What an amazing cry!

Jesus Rose

Hey everyone!

IMG_5532Last weekend was Easter Sunday, the glorious holiday where my house is full of even more eggs than usual. I’m not a practicing Catholic, but I consider myself an egg lover and a casual child of G-d.

I’m also pretty big on sinning. Not trying to give you all too much information, but I am a prideful, wrathful glutton who slights her neighbors in the elevator and holds hands with boys without wearing gloves. Sometimes I even hold hands with girls. I probably sin once a day at least.

I don’t usually think about it that much, but when my mom left early in the morning to visit family friends from New Jersey, she waved goodbye and smiled a smile that said, “Siena, it’s time for you to pull your little nose out of the gutter and start walking the straight and narrow.”

The door barely closed before I started to cry. I’ve never felt particularly weighed on by God or Jesus or Mary or anything I’ve done in particular, but at that moment I felt completely overcome with godliness. My poor tear ducts just couldn’t take it! I began to weep like Jesus had come to me himself. Quickly, in order to maximize this misery and emphasize the way birth, death, and rebirth go hand in hand in hand on this holy day, I ran and pulled on my best Christmas sweater.

Praise Jesus! Hallelujah!

 

On Graduating (feat. Erica Amabile)

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Hey babes!

This time, I’m going #nomakeup. Yep, that’s right, there’s nothing on my face in the above photo but tears. But anyway, natural beauty aside, do you know what’s been weighing on my mind? I’ll give you a hint: it has to do with my future, higher education as an elaborate ruse to plunge students into debt, and why I can’t seem to do any homework.

You guessed it. I’m crying about graduation.

Now, I know there are 133 other seniors probably feeling what I’m feeling, yet I’m the only one crying about it. Well, the reason I’ve begun weeping like a mother at a commencement speech is because of the Freshman club fair last week. I’m a peer advisor, and thus had to escort my group of freshman girls to the club fair last Thursday morning. I love being a peer advisor, it’s amazing to wake up forty-five minutes earlier than usual twice a week so I can begin feeling sadness slightly earlier than usual. And it’s amazing to watch these girls begin to adjust to high school life. We took them down to the club fair in hopes that they would take one step further down the paths to discovering their passions and impressive extracurriculars, when BAM- it hit me.

I won’t be able to join any clubs for the next semester! I’m going to graduate and never go to a lunch club at this school again. I’m going to graduate, and then eventually my influence in the school, however small, will ripple out and fade away, like a pebble sinking to the bottom of Lake Michigan.

I began to cry, but just a gentle, here-and-there kind of crying. Very subtle, so my freshman wouldn’t notice and be concerned. Then, of course, I was spotted by Erica Amabile, local trout and slut-shamer. Apparently she also shames cryers. She sidled right on up to me and said, “Hey, Siena, what’s wrong?” like the tyrant that she is. I bellowed back “Nothing and no one! No one and no where!” Which made her laugh a man-hating witch laugh. She plopped down next to me and began furiously tickling me in the bends of my elbows (which only made me cry harder), and then pointed at me as if to say ‘here she is, brand her with the scarlet letter C for Cryer!” and snapped this pic.

Honestly, not the best weep I’ve had recently. But as I always tell people:

Do as I say, not as I cry.

¡Ciao!

Bathroom Floor

crying

Hey honeys! How are you?

I would say that I’ve been good, but as usual, I’ve been simultaneously numb and hysterical since my last post. Life has its ups and downs, or if you’re me, life has its downs and its way downs. Sometimes life goes deep sea diving!

After the stress of the week built up, I was dying for a quick release. See, I had performed a piece of classical music at a music school event this week, and let me tell you, I Goofed. The other performers were under the age of 13, yet they looked through me with soulless eyes that can probably sightread better than I can. I also spent time playing Dungeons and Dragons with the kid I babysit, who is better at algebra than me. To top it off, I continued to be lumpy, confused, and generally strange all week! As you can see, I’ve been busy. I texted my mother/only friend, asking for advice on de-stressing. She didn’t reply. Thanks, mom!

When I got home, my mom was there on the couch, eating surprisingly aromatic barbecue chips. She didn’t offer me one. I sat. She asked me how I was doing, and noted how odd it was that she hadn’t seen me cry in nearly a week. I turned my head to look at her like a sad possessed person and said “That’s the secret, I’m always crying!!” Just like in that superhero movie! I don’t remember which one, because I cried all the way through it. With that, I fled the living room and laid down on the bathroom floor with all the lights on.

“No one understands me!” I cried, knowing that this was the truest truth and the worst lie I had ever told. No one is unique or original, we are all as good as the same yet no one understands what I’m going through. If you look in the background of the photo, you can see my towel. Guys, my whole face felt like an old sponge by the time I was done! This was the best cry I’ve had in a long time.