Daylight- Matt & Kim

La Fin

I'm no Cobain,

Soli, 

Abbey, 

Blackwell,

or even a Bevan.

I'm not sure what a Bevan even is. 

All I know is that it is a name that belongs to a dora-esque girl on my favorite movie

Which I've only watched all the way through because it's two & a half hours long.

I'm just a girl who wants to start a riot.

A girl who doesn't quite see the point of the internet.

A girl who wants to see her brother get to have what she has

A teenage girl who waits 6 months to kiss another person.

A girl who hates her real name.

I am Madie Brown.

Craving Retrospect

You remember what you were wearing

what day of the week it was 

what time it was

but you don't remember how you felt.

You don't remember how when you saw us driving up that seemingly endless driveway you had an expression of misunderstanding and what looked like distaste. 

I didn't know what that look meant.

But I don't think you did either.

But, hey

We were only three.

The next day we sat eating popsicles while staring at eachother and trying to figure out what the other's presence meant.

I don't think we ever figured that out.

I don't know that we ever will.

What I do know is that 

while I'm watching you go through the pain

                                                                                                   and the pain.....

                                                                                                                   and the pain....

and I still don't know.

And it makes me wish I could be back in the time where I didn't have to figure that out.

We don't have our VCR anymore because you labeled it "out-dated"

After that it came and went just like the memories it played and the waves at the beach we went to before we found out.

Before we found out that we may not need our camera anymore.

Because if there are no more memories to made then there is nothing to reminisce.

I want to keep reminiscing.

The Road Less Traveled

This isn't my newspaper blackout.

But I liked it better.

Essentially these things are created by thievery so why not make it two-tiered?

I took the road less traveled recently.

And when I say that I don't mean it in a figurative, metaphorical sense.

I mean that I was trying to find a campsite up AF canyon that once was a setting of many awkward kissing stories and where I sneaked-out for the first time to go camping with BOYS but I took a wrong turn.

For some reason I wanted to be reminded of those times that really everything was just as good and just as sucky as everything is now.

But I still call them "the good old days."

Everything is chang-ing

            and rearrang-ing

            and disappat-ing

which makes me feel like sobb                      

   ... Ignoring my responsibilities 

because then I won't have to worry about college

or a job

or my future.

I wanted everything to stay the same. 

And I wanted to find that campground

But I discovered that although I had no idea I was going to end up where I did,

It had a better view.

Your Relativity

Time is relative to the motion of the observer.

But my brain is too small to understand that.

What I can understand is that when you're near a black hole, time moves more slowly.

That's why when I'm with you,

Time never seems to pass.

Video of the Week

There Once Was a Man Named Bernard

There once was a man named Bernard.
He thought that life...
Just wasn't that hard.

He canoodled,
bamboozled,
entrusled,
padoodled..

Week after week,
And day after day,
He saw that his friends,
Were all drifting away.

Once he got rid
Of his scorn and contempt,
He soon realized
This was a futile attempt.

His friends laughed,
Mocked,
Ignored,
And Booed,
For he had been simply too rude.

Through this event
Bernard had learned
To live life to the fullest,
to be loved and content.

Cassius- I Love U So

I'll See You Around the Bend

I'll see you around the bend.
Not of the river, but of one of the many twists and turns of our incessantly confusing dynamic.
Until then I'll be swimming in a sea of opiates and tears that really should be shed over pretty much anything else.

This is about love,
But it is not a love story.
This is dedicated to the times when you would say you miss me,
But those words were just a placebo to distract me from you drifting further away.

I've always seen you as the sweetest thing but now that I look at you more closely I realize...

You're a full-on Monet.

 

You put on this appearance of independence and originality while, in all reality, you're whole demeanor has been soured by your repeated realizations that no matter how hard you try to be different you will always be who I know you to be.

 

And that kills you inside.

 

You read our messages (more like pleas) begging you to come back,

Yet you still tell yourself we don't want you anywhere near us.

 

We reminisce over you and you over us and all of us over the memories we could have made if you weren't so distorted.

 

 

 







I Wish I Lived in the Golden Age

How to be a Good Writer

To be a good writer you must read.

You've All Been Misinformed

"You need to have a passion for roller-skating to be cool."

"You don't have long, bushy, almost dreaded hair; there's no way you're hip."

"Do you even own a Subaru?"

"You love art? Pretentious. I mean, I'm allowed to like it though."

"I didn't see you at the Velour on Saturday...."

"Banksy is my favorite artist, have you ever seen his stuff before?

I bet not. He's pretty underground."

I'm sorry I don't skate habitually, I don't want to fall.

I'm sorry my hair doesn't reach my waist, I chopped it off when short hair was "in."

I'm sorry I don't own a subaru, I take what I can get.

I'm sorry you don't agree with my methods of self-expression.

I'm sorry I don't need to love all underground music to be cool.

To all you people who are offended by another person with the same taste in music,

the same taste in fashion, 

the same taste in hobbies, 

the same taste in "films."

There's only so many things in the world to like. 

You've all been decieved. You can't copy someone else to be different. 

The Catastrophic Endeavors of Angst

When I was enthrawled by you it seemed as if I could never get enough.
Now that I am older and know better I want nothing to do with you.
What I'm battling with now is not my own frigid self-image but rather the acceptance of life's conundrum: you can only get what you want when you're finally over it.
I'm over it. I'm over you. I'm over the crippling status of independant fool who can't seem to keep her knees from giving-way whenever you walk within a 50 foot radius.

We sat in the back of your car talking about how "God won't let you have a girlfriend," and how you just can't seem to get a girl to like you even though I was sitting 20 inches away desperately trying to keep my lips from trying to touch yours and my eyes from falling in love with yours over and over again.

Others described you as psycho, while the only words that came to mind when I looked at you were charming and charismatic. That description slowly wore off due to the repeated occasions where you would ask me how to get a certain someone to fall for you just as I was mustering up the courage to tell you that I was more than willing to be that certain someone.

If only you knew how many journal pages I have dedicated to you. Many of them nothing you could read without feeling immediately morose and the others a mixture of giddyness and infatuation with topped with a thin crust of appreciation.

Now all of those pages consist somewhat of animosity and pity. Not pity towards myself but towards you and your inability to see what's right in front of you. I've repeatedly thought about lighting it on fire but I feel like that would ruin the structural integrity of the book and that's worth more than any potential relationship with you; which you so clearly pointed out.

 Here's for the many hours we spent together laughing and you playing guitar and me attempting to follow along in harmony. Here's to us going on endless drives and talking about where we'll be a year from now and hopign we're still best friends and spend every second together (because that's not misleading at all). Here's to you teaching the value of sarcasm because as of late it has come in pretty handy. Here's to us going our seperate ways because I am much more solaced with knowing that I am no longer chasing after something that never wanted to be mine.

Building Your Heavy Ego

There you are,

Sitting on your tower,

Continually laying bricks,

Content with your skewed self-image.

The rest of us are here,

On the ground,

Just as content. 

We are content with our lives,

our plans,

our "what ifs?"

You build your wall up

So you can feel above everyone else

What you don't realize is that,

Something so literal does not translate to be so figuritive.

While you are building your wall,

you sink into a fog of uncertainty.

Which is what you were trying to avoid in the first place.

The worst part is that,

you don't even realize it's happening.

While focusing on something so concrete,

All hope is lost of your original goal:

To be sought,

To be cherished,

To be loved.

To be loved,

To be cherished,

To be sought,

Break down your wall.

You can even ask us to help.

We will.

And you will be relieved.

You will be relieved of your heavy burden.

Not For the Faint of Heart

This video is not for the faint of heart.

Sweetest Kill- Broken Social Scene

Video of the Week

Hey guys.

I have an idea.

I'm starting to put my favorite music videos down below on my blog.

I just want to share with you all what I like.

Tell me what you guys think.

Here's the video for this week:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NBrxZdGcRFE

Baby, You are my Muse

With the touch of the hand

And a brush of the cheek

You always make me tremble and sigh

I wonder where we'll be five years from now

Out of state

In college 

Only time will tell

We don't have a lot in common

I'm aware, 

I've been told

But your sheepish, in-touch... tender

What more could I want?

You make me lose my mind

But you turn around and help me find it

Then despite the day you've had

You only want to talk about mine

There's never any silence

Awkward silence anyways...

Only good times

And moments to cherish

You are what I always want to hear

What I always want to see 

Baby, you are my muse

Dear Anyone

Dear Anyone,

I am a human

I say something one minute

Then contradict myself the next.

I swear,

I steal, 

I put myself before others,

I judge.

But what's worst of all is that I do these things and condemn everyone else for them also.

I say I hate people that I've never met

I play with people's emotions to get what I want

I cheat

 

What makes me human is that I, at some point or another, regret these things.

I try to change, I try to help, I try to love. 

I do.

That's what makes me human.

That's what makes me inherently good.

Sincerely, Nobody

P.S. Save the humans.

The Only Ones Who Know

You are afraid
You don't know what's going to happen
We don't either
It's all okay

We're the only ones who know.

You can cry
You can ask questions
You can be angry
You can scream into your pillow and ask "Why me?"
It's alright

We're the only ones who know.

You can let your hopes soar
You can let them descend into a deep abyss that no one in their right minds would attempt to go down to.
You can let your true emotions show because after all...

We're the only ones who know.

We're the only ones you confide in
We're the only ones you trust
We're the only ones who can dedicate all of our emotional capacity to you.
We're the only ones you can open up to
That is why...

We're the only ones who know. 

I still have my crayons and you should too.

I remember when I was the cool kid because I had the oh-so covetable 64 pack of crayons with the sharpener apart of the box. That's right, it was apart of the box. No more sifting through your pencil box to find your boring hand-held sharpener.

Now I find myself feeling like I have no friends because I didn't get asked to go to that one guys party on Saturday night.

But that's not even the case.

The truth is that there are still people that dig you for your personality and your crayons.
They know that just because they've moved on to colored pencils doesn't mean you can't color with wax.
There are still people who want to hang out with you at recess and trade pokemon cards with you after school.
The best part is that these people don't even care if you bring a lunchbox or roller backpack to school.
In fact, they think it's cool.
These people don't make fun of you because of that weird question you asked in class, they just appreciate your courage to even ask a question in the first place.

My crayons may not be the same colors as they were when I strolled into my first day of kindergarden but that doesn't mean that they can't still create a work of art.

Cringingly Nostalgic

I am not even a month into my senior year and I am afraid that I won't live it to the fullest. I am also afraid that when my kids ask me to tell them stories of high school that I wont have any tell-all tales for them.

It seems these days that if you don't get asked to the dance then youre a nobody, and if you don't get asked to the dance then you don't have a picture to put on instagram about how your date was "unreal" or how you two "killed it."

These are the times that I have to time and time again remind myself that every second of the day all of us are making memories.

Whether these moments are bitter as that coffee you feel you have to pretend to like to save your reputation or are as sweet as that king-sized candy bar that wealthy family gives out to everyone on Halloween, you have to make the most out of every situation.

Yeah, Homecoming would have been nice and I wish I could've seen you there too, but I had just as much fun simply watching a movie with my cousins. Also please stop pretending that you knew I didn't go before I told you.

I guess what I'm saying is whatever it takes, make these days the days that you'll look back at and call "the good old days."

Whatever People Say I Am That's What I'm Not

I am Jordana Bevan.
Well, not really, hopefully.
I only chose this alias as a pathetic attempt to speak out against judging a book by it's cover.
People say I'm a Jordana.

I'm far from it.

Whatever people say I am, that's what I'm not
But hey, people can think whatever.
I try not to purge up my cynicism but every once in a while the situation calls for it.

I guess what I'm trying to say is when you read this blog, hopefully will say I am what I am.
Finally.