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[ | Apr 11th, 10
1:09 pm
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place holder for my thoughts when gone
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[ | Mar 31st, 10
5:55 am
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There ain’t no reason things are this way
It's how they always been and they intend to stay
I can't explain why we live this way,
We do it everyday.
Preachers on the podium speaking of saints
Paupers on the sidewalk begging for change
Old ladies laughing from the fire escape, cursing my name
I got a basket full of lemons and they all taste the same
A window and a pigeon with a broken wing
You can spend you whole life working for something,
Just to have it taken away
People walk around pushing back their debts
Wearing pay checks like necklaces and bracelets
Talking 'bout nothing, not thinking 'bout death
Every little heartbeat, every little breath
People walk a tight rope on a razor’s edge
Carrying their hurt and hatred and weapons
It could be a bomb, or a bullet, or a pen
Or a thought, or a word, or a sentence
There ain't no reason things are this way
It's how they always been and they intend to stay
I don’t know why I say the things that I say,
But I say them anyway
But love will come set me free
Love will come set me free, I do believe
Love will come set me free, I know it will
Love will come set my free, yes.
Prison walls still standing tall
Some things never change at all
Keep on building prisons, gonna fill them all
Keep building bombs, gonna drop them all
Working your fingers bare to the bone
Breaking your back, make you sell your soul
Like a lung, it's filled with coal, sufficating slow
The wind blows wild and I may move
But politicians lie and I am not fooled
You don't need no reason or a three piece suit, to argue the truth
The air on my skin and the world under my toes
Slavery is stitched into the fabric of my clothes
Chaos and commotion wherever I go
Love, I try to follow
Love will come set me free
Love will come set me free, I do believe
Love will come set me free, I know it will
Love will come set my free, yes.
There ain't no reason things are this way
It's how they always been and they intend to stay
I can't explain why we live this way,
We do it everyday.
Interesting song. Interesting lyrics. The notion that love.....love can do so much for a person is baffling to a degree. I haven't found anything like that yet; I've seen it, with Alice, with even Emmett and Rose.
I makes me......hope.
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[ | Mar 26th, 10
5:13 pm
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Clothes.
Yes, today's first topic on hand is clothing and the wearing of them, etc. They are a great source of importance for Alice's life, and she's rather persuasive and insistent that we all be dressed to the letter. It is difficult to refuse her: she comes armed with visions and wardrobe in hand. It would be an unjustified injury to deny her simple requests. I've actually gotten used to her dressing and selecting my wardrobe. She makes sure that we all look the part. If it's a colder day, she bundles us up with the appropriate sweaters and coats and such, and the right kind of shoes. Maybe it's just my maleness and my inborn ignorance that keeps me from selecting the most appropriate things to wear. Not to say I slip up too often; I have been known to wear a t-shirt, a time or two, when the temperature dipped down to twenty or so; this was quickly rectified before I drew too much unsolicited attention to myself.
It's critical to blend. And Alice seems to take a special interest in trying out new styles and outfits on those of us who succumb, mainly myself and Jasper. Rosalie...well Rosalie is a different creature all together. She never seems to falter in making the best, most fashionable selection, and she has Emmett well in hand. So I let Alice fuss over what I wear, filling my closets with muted tones of blues and greens, tans and browns; she says that they go well with my eyes and hair. How can I fault her or protest?
I thought about clothes yesterday, lying in the field of snow, and wondered about disrobing and hunting undressed. I have tried it in the past; it does help keep the mess down to a minimum and then resume a more normal charade quickly, without fear of blood or evidence of my kill. But even now, my sense of propriety keeps me clothed. I never saw my human parents naked, not once. My father in his underthings, my mother in her dressing gown. And I am not sure I much approve of the fashion trends of this newest century. Intrigue in a female and the want to know more about her seemed to have been created by not seeing so much exposed, so much openly revealed. The hint of a wrist or an ankle was enticing and is now a thing of the past. But I do have to give an approving nod to the freedoms bestowed on the female sex. Their liberation and ability to express their wants and desires openly are only just and right. I think a woman should be given the choice to wear what they want, say what they want and seek occupation in a variety of fields; this is a good change. I can almost remember a time where these notions were considered scandalous and daring; now, they are the norm.
And good thing, because my family, my sisters and my mother, will not be reigned in by some masculine sense of propriety and protection. They have free will and a mind of their own to do as they wish. Maybe its some of Tanya and her family's ideas rubbing off on me, although I thought myself more than open minded long before I resided with them.
So, Alice keeps us current and fashionable with the times. She is our wardrobe compass and we yield to her willingly so as to better blend with our warm-blooded counterparts.
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| January, 2003 |
[ | Mar 24th, 10
10:42 am
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It's a bright sunny day, and we've all opted not to go into class. I headed out, on my own, to find that meadow I like. I'm sure to be on my own there, without fear of being seen or found. Its covered with snow at the moment, but once spring finally arrives, the grass comes in thick and it is one of my favorite spots.
It's nice to have a break, a bit of a change, even if we did only just get back from winter break. I've brought my journal (obviously) and thought I could write a few thoughts in the sun. Emmett opted out, wanting to go off with Rosalie instead, hunting or something more intimate. It was part of my reason to leave; I am pretty good at blocking out what they are thinking but proximity can make it difficult, and when they get.....well...they get going with each other, they make a ton of noise (in their heads and out.) Emmett says I should listen up; that I could learn a thing or two from him. I jest back that the only thing I can learn from him is how to win quicker at wrestling. That usually shuts him up, for a time.
I just haven't met anyone interesting enough to want to be that intimate with. I mean, I am glad and relieved that Rosalie found him; I've just not found some one that special yet. And after all of this time...I am not sure what the chances are that I will. Tanya was sweet but it just didn't feel right.
I hate berating myself about this any more. She was interested, that much was clear, and for whatever reason, call it my antiquated ideas of propriety, I wasn't. The notion of becoming that intimate with someone makes me fidget like a human, especially without the traditional rituals and human-like methods. I'd like to be the one interested first, to make the first gesture, to ask someone out and then see how things progress. To take my time to get to know someone and then, and only then, allow myself the luxury of becoming physical. It's the right way to do things. I know, old fashioned, but I can't help it. I think about my human life- I've had to go back and re-read some of my old journals. The way I experienced the world before was very different than the present, and those memories are dim and fading. But I was a product of my times, ensconced in the ritual of my era. I know my parents were looking to arrange a marriage for me. There was one girl they had in mind, from a respectable family. And she was agreeable, and pretty, and I did find her appealing apparently, although I can't exactly remember that feeling (It was in one of my old journals, from the first years when the thirst would blind me. I would spend hours upon hours writing to keep it at bay, documenting what I could of the life I'd lived before as a human.)
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I've grown quiet and still as I think about my human past. It's good to be so far from others; their thoughts are accessible, if I search for them but I prefer the solitude. It allows me the luxury to ponder and maybe dream as well. I'm not sure there exists a vampire I could fall in love with, nor a human being at that. I am doomed to forever be the isolated one, alone, virginal. Ah the irony, to see my skin sparkle white as I lie against this bank of snow. Emmett would jest, saying it suited me, all of the glistening white of it. He's probably right. I am resolved to live this fate. For me to find that right girl......?
Impossible.
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| January, 2003 |
[ | Mar 23rd, 10
12:41 pm
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Classes have begun and so I am writing in my journals again. The tedium is more acute; I think the holiday break makes returning the worse for me, as are the thoughts of those around me. I've done my best to block their whining, about getting up early, about the weather, about a plethora of things. Instead, I am writing, with the ipod on as loud as I can turn it up without catching the attention of the professors.
I know, only two more years here, in this guise of a school aged youth, stuck in these classes for what must be my umpteenth time. Rose is ready to move. I think all of us are itching to be done as we go through the motions, the actions and gestures of this human existence.
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I wish I had signed up for music now. Its too late, here in Forks, to just jump into it. I might be able to sweet talk the registrar, persuade her to let me add. But I won't; it would be too much of a bother now. I usually do that, start in band with a new instrument and continue with it for the next four years. It gives me something to learn. I only have to watch how well I play and improve, usually too quickly at that. Can't really be an expert after a few months, but who would understand the hours I have to practice and perfect the skills? Music is the best escape, the best diversion I've found. That and writing. If I had more to say, something provocative and informative to tell this populous, I'd think about writing a book. But what do I have to share? How to survive a hundred years? Ways to occupy 24 hours a day? If I had some deep, imperative thoughts that I must convey I might. No, I just have these multitude of journals, the scribblings of my random thoughts and observations. How to make sense of a life in 150 easy journals. Nothing worthy of others' eyes. Nothing so monumental that I might change the world. My time for that has past, of a sort. I can effect change, a terrible permanent change.
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Journal writing seems to have become a more popular pass-time. I noted several others writing, their thoughts transparent as they invade my mind. Rock stars do it, apparently, so its the rage. I suppose I can be more open about it now, if I care to.
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