Knee deep in drama, but kicking and screaming through it.

All I got's the title.

Make of it what you will.

I posted a lot over vacation, you've got some catching up to do:

Haha, but not really. A couple posts, I think like 5? And they're short, but I'm ending vacation with this song that I just finished. I got into a serious discussion with my friend Lauren, who is also my... girlfriend figure without the title, about love. I don't believe in it, but it was like an argument over nothing...

So what else is new, I wrote a song. Check it:

Watch Your Language!

This drama's fit for Shakespeare
But she's outgrown the past
And this modern post-romantic girl
Is finishing dead last
In a race between love and happiness
In a race between her heart and best interest.

::Insert catchy intro riff::

Her strengths don't lie in literary
Life or conversation.
She's a weak worded story to tell
And the time isn't worth the detail.
But she's sarcastic and bittersweet
To the tongue of someone getting a taste for
Her satiric storytelling side.

(and) Love isn't part of this story
She's not in the mood for writing fiction.
And happiness, well that's just hard to come by
So she's leaving out what she can live without.

She's got a book of secrets
She keeps open wide,
Inviting all who can't resist it.
Drama seeps out in the way she describes
Everything around her
And everything inside.

(but) Love isn't part of this story
She's not in the mood for writing fiction.
And happiness, well that's just hard to come by
So she's leaving out what she can live without.

::Bring back catchy intro riff::

End.

It's nights like these.

Life sucks. Let's be totally honest. A rundown of life in general looks like this:

• You live 75 years in a 6 million year old world that's always changing, so whatever you do is not going to make a difference in the long run. At all.
• To a counterargument in 1, sure you wanna live life to the fullest and help people along the way, but they're lives aren't gonna make a difference either. Get over it.
• You want to do one thing, so you make a head down dash for it, and run into an obstacle you didn't see, cuz whatever higher power there is doesn't like you, or if there isn't one, you just suck and didn't think it through.
• The times you look up and try to figure everything out as you go, you spend too much time thinking and miss a chance on spontaneity, way to think too much, live a little... get it?

That's a horrible outline, it's just really late and I don't wanna think anymore. I just gave my band a reality check into the glass and they hated it. Pessimism rules me. Along with money, which I don't have. And dreams of being a musician for the rest of my life, which is slim to none, and there's nothing I can exactly to go college for in music if I don't want to teach it or set other musicians up for their lives in music.

I'm basically living to be a musician, and if I fail I'm just living to die.

Sucks. Life, that is.

...Then there were 4

I love my band, but it seems like there's always one character revolving around the core 4 of us.

It's always been me and Kyle, best friends for about 2 years, maybe 3 now, I don't even remember when we met. But it was like *snaps fingers* that. Right away.

Then he introduced me to Matty, and since then, me and Matty have been the core. We always think alike on music, and we're always the ones writing the new music, but lately Kyle's been back in the process.

Carlos and I were introduced through Matty about 6 months ago, and we've become better friends than anyone I've known in high school... 4 YEARS! I've become closer to this kid in 6 months than anyone else in 4 years... That's how much time we can spend with eachother and not get bored of eachother with. Hell, I think he's moving into my house because his mom is selling theirs underneath him, and he has nowhere else to go.

Kevin's a cool kid, but he's just too different compared to the rest of us, so there's the revolving character. He's a good singer, very weak keyboardist, and decent synth player, but he's just not like us...

We need a keyboardist/synth...ist? that can sing... Guy or girl... but just someone who fits in...

Therein lies the problem.

I wish I could make the most frustrated noise ever in type so this title would be fitting and not so long...

When people say quitting is the easy way out, they're wrong. I hate, I repeat, HATE being pessimistic. I have a horribly depressing outlook on things all of the time, and it's not easy being the person who's always there to keep you down to Earth.

My dreams are to be a professional (preferably famous) musician. I know this is highly unlikely, but I think that most of my lyrics (most I've never shown in this blog) are good enough to attract a lot of attention, and I've been told that the style of music that my band currently plays (and I will continue to write) is a nice way to catch attention as well. Now I love my band, but I can't stand one member recently, and I can't bring it upon myself to tell him anything about it cuz it'll trigger one of the many traits of his that I despise. He never shuts up.

Tell him to quit. Not easy way out.

Tell me to quit worrying about it so much or caring about it. It's not easy when he's in the group of 5 kids who you want to spend the next 10 years of your life playing music with.

Quitting is not the easy way out. The easy way out is apathy, and I care way too much about this to let go.

I'm in one huge f***ing pickle.

I quit.

A Brief For The Defense...

A moment of clarity, when clouds in skylines aren't just painted on light blue, they're really there.

When you get it, and you love it, who cares what the meaning teaches you, you got that far.

I got that far like 10 seconds ago. I woke up from a dead sleep because all of a sudden it hit me. No one is perfect, he's the one being fought against, and he's saying, "Everyone has a good side, let him at it." I got it. Well, horrible analysis, but this post is saying:

Find and read Jack Gilbert's A Brief For The Defense poem. It's a good one. Good works here.

Edit: Link - http://www.smith.edu/poetrycenter/poems.php?poem_id=77&name=jgilbert

Hmph... On par?

An open course of action, an infinite number of directions,
An ideal form, a not so ideal outcome.
The shift. Back foot, front heel, hips and shoulders,
Eyes focused.
Straight arm.
Stop. It hit the chin.
The inverse.
Heel down, hips turn, shoulders rotate.
Wrists? Let's just hope.

Contact.

Halfway there. Follow through, shoulders continue,
Hips rotate, chest towards target.
Back foot rotated, front foot pressure.

Follow. Repeat. Sometimes around 80 times.

Let's just hope.

Kinda late...

But I decided to listen to some advice... "Look at yourself, from outside your mindframe."

And I actually do this on a regular basis, but only as an examination of morals and future and still self-centered reasons. This time I looked at it from my friends' points of view because I saw two friends fighting and got both sides of the story. I was shocked to find out what I wrote after I snapped out of my "WRITING WRITING WRITING, NO BRAIN INVOLVED MODE" style of songwriting... It actually kinda sucks (not the song, the message.)

AutoBiography.

Color it red in the eyes of a bull
The biggest one you can find
And stand still, if you're as brave as you say
Watch the shaking and immobility sink inside

Chorus:
Your light blue eyes are sharpened
But your yellow skin and blacked heart
You're a coawrd and a liar, but tell yourself
You're gonna be something big.

Make your move, don't be careful
Cuz you wanna be known for being brash
A free soul who blows in the wind
Well follow through the window cuz you're a horrible friend

Chorus:
You're sense of style is ruined
By the heart on your sleeve and the throbbing ego
You're a coward and a liar, but tell yourself
You're what everyone wants to be...


You're a coward and a liar and a horrible friend (repeat)
2nd vocalist: What everyone wants to be (repeat)

...So I said, 'NICE HAT,' LOL

I love bad jokes. Even the ones that are absolutely horrible make you feel better because you realize almost anything you say is better than that. It's probably one of the few times people can compete to be worse at something and not feel stupid, because... it's a given that you're being stupid.

But what I realized tonight was that there hasn't been any new jokes out that suck, in the good way. There's the occasional joke that'll be like, "Hah, clever" or "...What?," but there's never any that everyone dies when they listen to only because of it's patheticness.

Bad jokes need a comeback, this whole trend of racism being funny is getting meh. Let's bring back the bad stuff.

Rocks, Paper, Song? Rene, this is getting out of control...

Okay, so yes, I wrote another song today, in Creative Writing, and yes, I love it. It's not as good as my other two, but I still like it. I'll post that and to deter you from just songs that I've written I'm going to post a piece of writing that I've yet to think of.

Song:

Waltz Of The Two Moons

Call it cheating, call it wasting
Time better suited for
What else than answering life's little questions
With a little bit of dancing in the mix.

Backyards to ballrooms
In dresses, skirts, and designer jeans.
In the wake of our mistakes
We'll build a history.

Call it rhythm, call it soul;
Reactions to the music makes our blood boil.
I'd give whatever I have left for
Warmth in the cold, her hands to hold as we dance in

Backyards to ballrooms
In dresses, skirts, and designer jeans.
In the wake of our mistakes
We'll build a history.

Dance breakdown, synth-tastic

Backyards to ballrooms
In dresses, skirts, and designer jeans.
In the wake of our mistakes
We'll build a history.
___________________________________________________________________

Okay, so now the other half of the post... Let's wing it, shall we?

A hammock, two lawn chairs, and a picnic table were messily strewn across the lawn, gathering the warmth of the fire on a cold night in April. On them sat six friends, myself included, with an acoustic guitar, throwing songs together on a whim.

"Hey J-dub, you got my lighter?"

"Yea, hold on..."

Jesse scrambled through his pockets, barely large enough to even hold a lighter, nevermind the cigarettes accompanying, and pulled out a pack of Malboro Reds and a cheap, plastic lighter.

"Here you go, George."

"Thanks man."

Between the six of them, only two didn't smoke, and they were the two best friends. They didn't need it to look cool, they were in a band. That was their excuse anyway.

"Carlos, play me a 'lil somethin' somethin', I have an idea," I said, trying to get another song started so that everyone could sing along. It was already 11:30, but the group sang as loud as they could whenever something repeated.

"When you said these cigarettes taste like new beginnings
I said 'Sorry, I don't smoke, and I like things how they are.'
But light me up a flame to burn, raging through the night
And I'll show you why I feel the way I do..."

After I had laid down the vocals to follow, everyone chimed in over and over with the verse. Quickly it became a theme of the night, being hummed or sung even when the guitar was lying on the picnic table.

"Aww, damnit. We're out of cigarettes," noted Emma, Jane's little sister, who'd gone to sleep some hours before. It was 1 in the morning, and everyone was on the verge of falling asleep themselves. Emma's outburst had shaken everyone back to life, and all of a sudden, sleep was not the goal, finding cigarettes became the newest necessity.

Carlos and I watched as George, Jesse, and Emma walked around George's house trying to find cigarettes. My car was the only means of transportation, and being a non-smoker, I'd refused to make a pick up.

It was at this moment that I realized that he could care less what happened with the cigarette situation. These were his friends, and he was watching them worry about a 3 inch long paper wrapped kiss of emphysema.

Truth.

Haha, I had no idea how to end it.

::clever wordplay::

Since people I know have been working on their monologues for Impaired, I decided to reflect on my past experiences with drinking and those of my friends. God I was so stupid. Really, I was. I've made some of the stupidest decisions ever when I was drunk. In my monologue, when I said "I'm done. I promise." I meant it. I quit. It's not worth it.

So, also reflecting on two-fifths of my band, I realized that it annoys me even more to see them get hammered, because I care about them more than anything. I mean, sure, they're having fun, but I don't want them to do something they'll regret and have to blame it on alcohol, like it's some panacea of mistakes. It's not. It's just stupid.

I wrote a song, what else is new. But, so my band doesn't know, I disguised them as a girl, to make it even more stereotypical pop-rock song. I just don't wanna start a war over it.

The Substance

You're so fragile under the influence
Like the alcohol's giving you substance
Behind the faulty framework that holds you up
All 5 foot 4 of you.
I hope you're havin fun alone...
I hope you're havin fun
With the ones who'll move on
And find more girls like you.
I hope you're havin fun alone...
I hope you're havin fun
With the ones who'll move on
And find more girls like you.

Drink up, and put down the bottle
But only when you're done.
Don't settle for less than perfect
You know you gotta be gone to do this right.
Wake up, and shoot down the idea
That you didn't have any fun...
As far as you can remember,
You were guaranteed to get some... last night.

You're so damaged the morning after
But your recovering like it never happened
And the scars that you hold aren't ones you can see
But they weigh you down all the same.
I hope your driving home alone...
I hope your driving home
And you realize
there's others like you.
I hope your driving home alone...
I hope your driving home
And you realize
They'll find them soon.

Drink up, and put down the bottle
But only when you're done.
Don't settle for less than perfect
You know you gotta be gone to feel alright
Sober up, and wipe down the tears
That have made your make-up run
You just need learn to let go
Of this foundation.

Drink up, and swallow your pride
Cuz you're out to make things fun.
I hope it ruins your night and
You choke on your security bottle of rum.

Dear Dr. Hillman,

You had time to gather pwnage material, so I came home, wrote a corny love song (that I actually love, and I think will make a great song), and I decided to post it just to spite you. This is the exact version I basically copied the notes right out of my notebook.

Read it all. Just do it.

Testing The Waters
Playing favorites was never my game
Til I started winning all the time with you.
Not really winning anything
Other than anything with you
But that's good enough for me...

You're just being you with me
And thats more than anything
I could ever ask for.
I'm just amazed that you believe
In something inside me
And that's more than anything...

Take a seat, tell me what you believe
And something embarrassing.
I'll follow suit, then start over,
We're not leaving til The water touches our feet.

You're just being you with me
And thats more than anything
I could ever ask for.
I'm just amazed that you believe
In something inside me
And that's more than anything...

Just be with me
Til the water hits our feet
And tide won't come close
If we don't go near the beach

You're just being you with me
And thats more than anything
I could ever ask for.
I'm just amazed that you believe
In something inside me
And that means more than anything...

Just be with me
Til the water hits our feet -Sing while ringing out.
And tide won't come close
If we don't go near the beach.

tl;dr - I posted a corny love song I wrote for my girlfriend just to "Teen poetry" Dr. Hillman to death.