Cement Girl

Grrrr. Two months is about my limit, i'm thinkin'. School just gets to me.

Maybe it was the Dashboard Confessional concert last night. So many high schoolers, singing along to music I'm not sure they understand. So many kids that think sex, drinking and drugs are living life, and a guy on stage, ten years older, reinforcing the idea.

Or maybe it was the cafeteria at lunch. So many people, noisy.. "oh i can't call you Sparky anymore" a girl says to a guy, all disappointed because she's lost the pet nickname for a friend. Gag. So what? Who cares? If only those were the things I worried about...

Anyway. I'm ready to get away. i'm ready to live a life that's mine. I'm sick of being an outsider because I don't enjoy what everyone else does. I'm waiting for that life, when I get to live in my apartment, working a job i love, and doing things i want to do, going to concerts, being with my family. Where my life isn't fully consumed with things I don't care about. What would it be like to live in a city where I didn't know anyone? I think that was the appeal of going to Oxford next year (which won't be happening).. just because I could be me, in a new place where nobody had expectations of what to see me as.

It surprises me how much stuff I keep to myself. And how much I don't have in common with other people. I like to freak out, and I love to have fun with my friends (as in.. on the way to the dashboard show last night)... yet there's so much stuff that I discover on my own (mostly music), that i think nobody else "gets"...

Sometimes it's just like I'm in high school again. Banquet. The cafeteria. Not being able to talk to people. And me getting lost in my music. Finding that that's one thing I don't have to be accepted, to love. Nobody has to give me permission to listen to this music. Whereas I don't feel like I belong among my peers, I don't have to feel accepted to listen to this music. I can get lost in it, on my own, without telling anyone. I think I find beauty in stuff that nobody else thinks is pretty. In rising guitars, and the clashing of cymbals. In a deep bass line and soaring vocals.

"He who has never swooned..
Is not he whose brain grows bewildered
With the meanig of some musical cadences
Which has never before arrested his attention"-Edgar Allen Poe