Disappointments and Annoyances- 243 Days

     I feel utterly unimportant. I feel like someone people check in with occcasionally when they think about it, or a blog someone reads when they're bored, or someone people only like when I'm happy. Then when I'm upset which must be boring, the people vanish. I can still taste the upheaved dirt from the speed with which they left. I can't be this beacon of happy and entertainment for everyone on the time. Then, when I want someone to notice or just ask if I'm okay, nothing. Part time friends are mostly what I've got.
     My friend Phillip absolutely pissed me off today. He's a freaking music nazi. He likes jazz, jazz, and only jazz and maybe some classical and opera. I like almost everything, so when I want to listen to something from a musical, or with a dance beat, or even just rock/alternative music, all I hear is "that's shit, that's crap, I hate this, what the hell is this?, this is terrible " and I almost just screamed at him today. Okay, good for you. You know what you like. I'm glad that you are so vocal about your opinions, but it's really not fucking necessary. There are so many ways to get across, "Hey, I'm just not really digging the music," or 'That's just not my style." But if you're in my car, or around me and you say stuff like that, that's hugely crossing a line. That's being downright rude and sometimes cruel. Sorry to burst your bubble, but jazz is not THESOLEGREATESTTHINGONTHISEARTH. It's another genre. I can't think of how many times I've listened to stuff that I hated listening to, but I put up with it because hey, he's my friend and I'm trying to be courteous. I never say any of that to him about it. No matter how many NUMEROUS instances I want to. I like Ke$ha. So? I could care less if you like it or not. I hate when people assume you need to know opinion RIGHTNOW. Alright, that was my ranty section of this post.
     I don't honestly feel like I possess a real friend. Some I could call up at any moment if I needed something (within reason) or that I can tell everything to, or that loves the same kind of interests I love. And that's utterly depressing. Yeah. Short post. Sorry about that.

"Everyone's a letdown it just deepens on how far down they can go." -Newport Living, Cute Is What We Aim For

Making and Remembering- 244 Days

     We got a Christmas tree yesterday. Well, Saturday night. Mom had put all the lights and garland on while I was unfortunately studing for the two horrendous Hardy vocab tests that await me in about six hours. At about eleven, having just finished studying for AP Stats she was in the kitchen and I asked her if she wanted to decorate the tree. She'd come into my room earlier and saw that I was busy and just suggested we do it tomorrow, but she said sure and we started. While we were decorating and sifting through the decorations and memories that people accumulate throughout their life, I told her, "It just hit me. This is my last Christmas at home, decorating the tree when I still actually live here." She responded with, "Yeah, but just think of what exciting things you'll be exposed to next year." While thats great and all, I expressed my fear. "It's time you don't get back though." She looked through the branches of the tree and sighed as she hung up another ornament. "No. You never get time back."
     It's the little things. I saw some small photo albums that my mom had gotten out and set on the coffee table in the living room. There was a picture by itself in a plastic frame of my sister and I beside a snowman we made years ago. I remember it because it seemed like as soon as the picture was taken, my dog Atlanta charged through it. I finished reading Ordinary People, my mom going to bed only after a few chapters into it. She spent ten minutes trying to get a picture of it with her phone, turning lights on and off, trying to get the right angle. It made me laugh. Such a little thing.
     I'm sitting in the armchair under this feather down blanket that occasionally poofs out some feathers here and there and looking through those three small albums. One was Christmas 2003 at Telephone. I remembered getting some kind of origami paper airplane book along with my cousin Collin. God, I looked terrible back then. There's a picture of my Great Grandma Pauline and I and one of me and my Grandma June. I love them. Pictures are wonderful immortal memories. There's another of a Christmas that was probably 1995 or 1994. I look twoish. My sister and cousin Carly are eating crackers out of Aladdin themed bowls with Aladdin spoons and forks on Aladdin plates.
     In another there's one of me and my great uncle Joe. I'm little and looking at a flower at Grandma Pauline's house. He's two or three feet away looking after me. It's just us in it. It's the little things. In another picture everyone is at the zoo for one of my younger birthdays. My grandpa is holding me up on the fence so I can see better. It's just us. It's the little things.
     One Christmas my grandmother gave me an angel. She let my sister and I pick which ones we wanted and I immediately picked the most beautiful one. Her wings can fold over and enclose her in an oval like shell or open up when she fits into this little stand shaped like spun clouds. There's a picture on the tree of me in some shirt with an alligator playing soccer. It's from 1995 and I have a crown on my head. I looked scared shitless, like cameras are the devil or something. The slightly lame star atop our christmas tree in silver with lights embedded in the front. Multi-colored. It seems like forever ago when we were at some store like Lowes or Home Depot looking for something to put on top of the tree. I picked it out and it's been there every year since. There's another ornament from the ancient days when my sister was obsessed with Tweety. He's sitting atop a christmas tree with a fishing pole, pulling a star up to the top. He's wearing a santa hat. It's the little things.
     I just saw a picture of my cousin Collin and I and we're eating some of the fudge popsicles that Grandma Pauline always kept stocked in that rusty old freezer in the front room. We're playing a fresh game of checkers and I'm wearing a god awful red sweater with the old navy dog on it and it's wearing a christmas hat. Collin, as always is in a jersey of someone from the chargers or steelers. I can't remember one football logo from another. I just laughed at this picture of my grandma and I. We have virtually the same glasses only hers are a little larger. We look so dorky in the cutest way. It makes me all happy-teary. It's the little things.
     I think it makes it easier. Seeing all of these moments in life that I love and remember. At my cousin Emma's graduation this past weekend we saw a slideshow of pictures that we all laughed at. My last Christmas at home I decorated the tree with my mom. Our poor tree is so lopsided. It looks like only one side of it grew and the other quit about halfway. We turned that side to the wall. There is this ornament of an elf stirring a bowl of something that is just about the ugliest thing ever. I've always thought that ornament was horrendous. I asked my mom if she was going to put it up and she replied, "I only put it up if the tree's looking a little bare." I always thought she had loved it and that was the only reason we still put it up. "No! I think it was something one of you kids insisted we have and it's jsut always been here. I don't like it at all." That is so hilarious to me. She asked if I wanted to put it up and I told her that we had to. What kind of Christmas tree would it be if we didn't have the ugly baking elf?
     I need to sleep. Tomorrow is a big-ish day. Tonight I remembered something. Something in every glass ball and every frozen scene of a picture. Something in my mom's laugh and how she talks about everything. Something in the way we live with our lopsided Christmas trees with ugly baking elf ornaments. It's the little things that matter most and the little things we love. I can't forget that. I won't forget that.

"I'm higher than high, lower than deep. I'm doing it wrong, singing along. Go higher than high, lower than deep. Keep doing it wrong, singing along." - Twilight Galaxy, Metric

How Music Is Awesome And Makes My Life- 248 Days

     Music is my reprieve from reality and stress and almost every other thing in existence. There's something is a singer's voice, the inflection of the words, the lyrics themselves, woven like a purity into these threads that beat with my own heart and mind. A harsh strum of guitar strings, the heavy, driving beat of the bass drum, the throb of the bass coupled with the sting of cymbals. It's intoxicating. I can't get into my car without something playing. Even if I have to be at the mercy of the radio. My moods differ from eclectic female leads and heavy beats to high voiced, energetic male leads with rebellious rhythms. Then to orchestral and choral combinations and musicals. I love almost everything. Especially music with strong bass beats. :D
     Music can make me feel like nothing and no one else can. It can lift me out of bad moods faster than anything. It can bring me to tears in seconds with a chord that vibrates throughout my being. It feels like I'm universally tuned to something then. I get these powerful, existence altering chills that make me feel like something so small, but integral in a larger, grander scheme. It's never just one chord specifically. It's the harmonious union of a few flutes, some french horns and a uniquely vocal singer. It's words that emanate from some deep part of me with the soft notes of guitar strings and a relaxing drum beat. It's hard to explain. I need it though. It's a fibrous part of my being. Without it I'd feel tremendously empty. I guess that's why I feel like making music with other people is this awe-inspiring, spiritual experience. A melding of hearts and souls and bodies and minds that is unlike anything else. A few of my friends and I came up with the idea of a talent show to make money for our senior grad night. I've been meaning to ask my friends Taylor and Zach if they would play with me. Probably something from Cute Is What We Aim For or Cartel or Death Cab For Cutie. Anyways.
     This post is kind of short, but I've been meaning to write about it all day. My friend Phillip's birthday was today! I went out to dinner with him, his mom, dad, younger sister, and our friend Warren. It was hilarious. Well, that's all. I figured that I also needed a semi happy post. I don't want to be too terribly depressing. :P

"The arch in your eyebrows can tell the truth, just imagine what your back can do and the dance floor where I do my best is your, your mattress. I just gave myself the shivers and that's what you get when you think about her, and I just gave myself the shivers and that's what you get. That's what you get..." - Sweet Talk 101, Cute Is What We Aim For

I'm Awake At This Time For Some Ungodly Reason- 251 Days

     It's 3:49 a.m. and I am not doing my AP Physics homework like I planned. I'm worrying about college and watching Friday The 13th: Part Two. Within arms reach are a testimonial from a friend who was with me when I got my first speeding ticket last week, a bag containing a smashed to bits jawbreaker from a local coffee house, a book I started and haven't touched in a week, my DSi, and my cell phone which never gets the texts I want. Additionally, I've been planning Christmas presents for the couple of remaining people I have left. I've only managed to get one down and I've already given it! I hate waiting to reveal surprises and what's more of a surprise than getting a Christmas present when it's not even Christmas?
     I need snow. I love snow. With snow comes awesome, and my mother's homemade snow ice cream. I could worry about polluting my body with all the crap in the atmosphere possibly precipitating down and into the snow that will become my delicious ice cream, but screw that. I found some apple cider and it made my day. I had to have two mugs of it with a cinnamon stick. SO freaking delicious. Holy crap this girl in the movie has shorts so short, they may just constitute as either skin tight granny panties, or a bikini bottom. Her butt cheeks were falling through them. Then this dude sligshotted her butt. I laughed.
     I was at my impulsive friend Taylor's house this weekend and stubbed my toe on those concrete borders around flowerbeds and whatnot and looked down to see a huge chunk of skin hanging off and lots of blood. SO, that was fun. My toe looks gross and I have to wear flip flops everywhere. It's winter. Regardless of the fact that I'm inside most of the time, it's still a hassle. And I LIKE flip flops. Oh, and in addition to gross toe, I pet my dog because he looked sad and lonely in the garage, and got secondhand poison something from him so my hands and wrists itch like an expletive. Another friend of mine, Phillip, is having a birthday dinner this week so I'll have to painfully wear shoes, but the company more than makes up for it.
     Recently I've been reading parts of my great grandmother's autobigraphy Bits And Pieces: Recollections of Life in Rural East Texas. In AP Music Theory, my eighth period  this past Friday, I almost cried in front of everyone because this woman that I always knew to be so happy was talking about how when my great grandfather died, "Part of [her] died with him that night; [She] loved him so much." That just struck me really hard how much people hold things in. How much I hold in. How much anyone around me could be holding in that I have no idea about. It frightens me. So yeah. Anyways...
     Holy crap in the late seventies and early eighties men wore short shorts. Not like mid thigh, like upper, upper junk-is-threatening-to-pop-out high. I don't understand it. Oh well, Jason'll knock 'em off some time in the next 53 minutes. I also watched Fame earlier. Not the best movie but it made me start thinking. What DO I want to do with my life? I think I want to teach. I definitely want to write, but I also want to sing and act and do all the things you're supposed to pursue in youth. There was one scene where a guy who wanted to do ballet asked his dance instructor for a recommendation letter and she said that she couldn't give it to him. He had promise but would never move anywhere past that. I'm afraid that's how it is with my singing and acting. I enjoy them, but I don't think I have anything more than promise that won't advance or grow.
     I'm cold. I love and I hate being cold. I love it because I do. I hate it because it reminds me how warm someone else can make you. Just with a touch, a kiss, a brush of the skin. I, Jeffrey, was not meant to be alone. Plus, Christmas just makes me think, FAMILY. It's not just presents and good food and even spending time with your family, it's where you bring someone home for the holidays to meet and see your family. Where you cuddle up close by the fireplace under blankets and whisper. Where you decorate with all the stupid, beautiful, ancient ornaments that have accumulated in your parent's life and yours. HOLYCRAPTHESAMESHORTSHORTSGIRLNOWHASALONGSLEEVEDPINKTOPTHAT'S BEENCUTOFFTOONLYAMICROMETERBENEATHHERBREASTS...ANDSHEHASNOBRAANDHARDNIPPLES. That's just too much. *Shiver* I just don't understand it. What can compel someone to do such a thing? Sexy and classy and even attractive are very different things. I hope she's next in line to get the possibly literal axe.
     My great uncle died two days ago. He was my grandfather's last sibling. Now his parents and siblings are all gone. I never want to endure that. The funeral is tomorrow. I'm going to have to miss the school day probably. I'm going to have to help carry the casket. I've never been that close to a dead person. Well, relatively speaking anyways. I hate funerals and I hate death. So there. Meh.
     I got to see and pick out my senior pictures today! My favorite is a black and white with my Fedora smiling. I want to put it on Facebook so badly. It'll probably be Christmas or just before until I get them. Sigh. I hate waiting.
     Well, I think that's all for the night. Morning. Norning. Might. Hah. I'm so not funny. Another day again today.

"Stay up all night and sleep all day, we were smart kids with too much to say and so so sure that they were missing out. They're the ones who were missing out. We were elemental, talked down to bare essentials. Who knew we'd get so far? 'Cause our days were numbered by nights on too many rooftops. They said we'd burn so bright. We burn this city and go." - Burn This City, Cartel

Thanksgiving, Disappointments and Enigmas- 258 Days

     Wow, it's been almost two months. Sorry. I've had a uh...interesting time lately. I'll start off with my recap of Thanksgiving. Well first I went to my dad's family's Thanksgiving. It was immensely awkward. I have this douche cousin who's just a creep. He said that if you didn't want to work, just go for a Liberal Arts degree. They just hand it to you. I was pissed. I want to study Psychology and English. That's all liberal arts. So, douchebag pissed me off. Plus I went alone. My sister wouldn't come with me because it was so awkward but I went for my father and grandparents. I know they'll appreciate it. I stayed, made my appearence then went to my mom's family's Thanksgiving which I expected to be amazing as usual. My cousin said that the fact that Glee's version of Baby It's Cold Outside was sung by two men instead of the traditional man and woman bothered her. If that wasn't bad enough, my aunt then agreed and said that that was unnatural. I almost broke down and cried. They're the people I thought would accept me the most, but here they weren't acting like it. Now there's doubt in my mind. I can see the disgust and revulsion where once I saw acceptance. It haunts me. I feel like most of my friends can just make their obligatory "awww, I'm sorry" comment and avoid it. I don't think any of them understand. For a few it isn't their fault they can't understand. For others I doubt they give a shit. They don't get the utter emptiness of the few people you're biologically bonded to in this world rejecting you. At the end of the day, most people have their fmaily. I might not someday and that almost literally breaks my heart. I'm crying right now just thinking about it. I feel utterly alone. What's worse than people not knowing is people knowing and not caring. Yeah, so that's some of the blackness I carry around. Every day. That's another problem. I tell people and they assume because I mentioned it once it's out and dealt with. It's not. It's always there. It's a leaden weight that's constantly threatening to drag me under. I worry about that with one of my friends. She's an enigma wrapped in a conundrum to me. I worry that she's more insecure than she lets on. I'm worried that I might see more than what's there, but what if I'm not?
     I just recently read Rainbow Boys by Alex Sanchez, and it made me just want to say fuck it and wear some gigantic button that says, "Hi, I'm Bi. Your name is?" That's what people see first anyways. Other days I want to suppress every personality quirk and hope that no one ever notices. I try to compromise by telling myself that if someone were to ask I would just tell the truth. I wouldn't lie, but I wouldn't broadcast. I'd jsut be honest with direct questions. Well, that's always easier said than done...like most of my personal commitments. Now I'm watching Latter Days. I love this movie. I'm playing Pokemon HeartGold. I can't sleep. Most of that earlier shit is suppressed right now. I can make it through for awhile.

"Hello again friend of a friend. I knew you when our common goal was waiting for the world to end. Now that the truth is just a rule that you can bend, you  crack the whip, shapeshift and trick the past again. I'll send you my love on a wire. Lift you up everytime. Everyone, ooo, pulls away, ooo, from you."     - Black Sheep, Metric