i can feel the glaciers melting

the warm soft wind
covered up everything
on the day your love came screaming through me



I've just finished rehearsal, notes, paperwork and all.
I really should not be sitting here in Terra as I am and writing on this. I should be making my way back to my apartment so I can clean up. There is going to be someone looking at the place at 8pm tonight. And it looks like a wreck.
The landlord tried to tell me that it doesn't matter how it looks. But it really does. Also I don't want people, complete strangers at that, to come walking through my apartment and think "My God, these people live in complete squaller".
But despite that, I cant bring myself to get up and go at this moment,. I suppose I still have 2 and a half hours to get home and clean which is plenty of time. Its not like its a very big apartment.

I don't know where my time has gone. Where my life has gone.
This summer has quite literally flown by. I don't know where it has scampered off to. I wish it had stuck around for me to enjoy it. So I could savor something of my last 'free' summer. Next will be spent working as a slave for $125 a week + room and board at the beach. Pretty sweet, but not the supposed freedom I had this summer. Maybe next summer I won't apply for the Surflight internship and instead I'll take a cross-country road trip.

Thats not actually going to happen...but whatever.


Oh no! People need this room.

Maybe tomorrow morning when i'm back here- No more internet at the house.

live like music.

I wanna live like music. I wanna live like music.
Songs about justice. Songs about love.
Songs about freedom and never giving up.
I wanna live like music...



They might be stupid but damn do those crappy Canadian teen dramas have some good musics.

I'm not too sure what it is that i"m doing here.
This is my last 'real' week at Doc Watson's. Next week I start working Monday's only because of rehearsal schedules. It sucks and I will never have money again. And all the money I did manage to make this summer is already spent on my rent for the new house. So, pretty much I have $30 to my name right now. Awesome.

I don't know where my summer has gone. Erin called me Saturday and told me that she was getting ready to start packing for school again. Really? That was my main reaction. Then it hit me, "Oh, my God. It's August. I have spent my entire summer working, not playing. Not necessarily having a good time. Making very few bad decisions, though the one I did make will live on forever in a new found euphemism used at Doc Watson's. I have thrown away my last summer of 'freedom' without even realizing it since it obviously took place a year ago. I can't even remember anything from last summer that jumps out at me as being special or fantastic or so amazing that it made the summer worth it (with the exception of one very out of character act that I don't really talk about anymore)."

I had planned on this summer being my crazy, reckless, last hurrah summer. It was going to be filled with bad decisions and regrets- the kind that make a real person, and give a person experiences, the kind that they can write about if they plan on being a writer.Not that I plan on doing that or anything... But really, I know that next summer I'll have an internship -I need to have one to graduate on time. And I think I'll get the Surflight one since they already offered it to me this summer. And as awesome as it will be to live in LBI all summer I won't have the free time to go out carousing and partying because the theater will be too busy running me ragged, or so I've been told...

I just... I want my freedom to be young. And not have to worry about paying my rent, and going to work, and buying groceries, and having the apartment clean for new renters to look at it, and moving into a new house, and having such lofty responsibilities. It may not seem like I have a lot to do, but really I do. Or at least in my head all of my responsibilities are huge. Maybe I'm just crazy...
I don't know.

But I just want to be a kid again.

paciencia y fe.

Its so odd to think of culture.
I've been doing it a lot lately.

In my life I've met so many people from different countries and different backgrounds. They all have their own cultures and traditions. They have a people and a home.

But I feel like I don't have that.

Yes, I am Irish and Italian. But I really have no true understanding of what it means to be either of those ethnicities. They are just a part of my families history but they really play no part in my life as it is. And I realize that one's history is what shapes their future, but since those are not real parts of what shaped me at all I don't feel that it works out.

It's like- I may be Irish and Italian in blood but as a person I'm an American. And what does that even mean?
Do I even have a culture? Can I claim anything more than McDonald's and Britney Spears? When the time comes for me to have children and instruct them about our families roots and what shaped us what will I have to teach them? Nothing... I can talk about mass consumerism and pointless wars and too much reality television. And thats it. Thats what my culture is. And I hate it.

Also in terms of home. Yes, this country is obviously my home as I've only been outside of it three times in my entire life. Once was to Canada, once to London and once to the Dominican Republic. But there are times... I just don't feel at home here. And maybe its just my age, or maybe its the places I do live but nothing seems to fit.
I love living here in Philadelphia right now. It is so much better than Madison was for me. And I love Burlington with all of my heart. It is the only other place I can remember living since we moved there when I was only 1. But there are moments when I just don't feel like I fit in there. I've found that there are places one can go where it just feels right. And yes, my school right now is one of them but that will only last for another year. And then I'm finished. By this time next year I will have one semester left and that's all. And then what will I do? WIll I try to make my home here in Philadelphia? Will I find somewhere else to go?

My big plan had been for New York and grad school and working and loving my life. But now I'm not sure I could do that. i want to, so badly, still. But I know for a fact that I could never afford it. I can barely afford Philadelphia and things are much cheaper here. I don't know hat I"m going to do with myself. I know that I do like this town but it still doesn't feel like my home yet, maybe in the next year and a half that will change but maybe not. And then what will i be doing? Hanging around finding whatever work I can while stuck in a place that I don't want to be just trying to force a life down my own throat so i can survive?
I don't want that. no one wants that. At least I don;'t think they do,
It just seems like such a waste of time and money to be unhappy.

I'm not to sure where all this came form. one moment I was content listening to my new recording of In the Heights and then all this came pouring out. My mind is moving so fast that my fingers can barely keep up with whats I'm thinking. I haven't written like this in a long time, I haven't written at all in a while and I'm sorry, But see what happens. When I don't write things like this come pouring out of me. I need to save it up so this happens.

...I reall think I'm just crazy.



Also in other news I work at least four if not more days a week. I make okay money. I can pay my rent next month which is what really counts. And I'm god at my job. I am a good waitress. Which is funny since I was so scared that I would be bad at it for such a long time. If I had known I wouldn't suck at it I would've started a long time ago.

Probably not really but still...

ANd further news- I'm scared for what next month could bring.
Don't get me wrong I am excited too but scared all the same.
On so many fronts.



And lastly- never get as drunk as I did on Friday night.
It was a bad choice and a bad time Saturday.

going to georgia.

The most remarkable thing about coming home to you is the feeling of being in motion again: its the most extraordinary thing in the world.


i swear i will write real entry soon.

i cant sleep again.

this job has ruined what little normalcy i had in my sleep schedule once.



went on a long walk tonight, down to the river and back again. plus a bit further.
i'm not sure why when all i really wanted to do was sit at last drop and write.
but something felt awkward about doing that at that second.


i don't know...
but it was certainly an entertaining walk.

I don't know you
But I want you
All the more for that
Words fall through me
And always fool me
And I can't react
And games that never amount
To more than they're meant
Will play themselves out

Take this sinking boat and point it home
We've still got time
Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice
You've made it now

Falling slowly, eyes that know me
And I can't go back
Moods that take me and erase me
And I'm painted black
You have suffered enough
And warred with yourself
It's time that you won

i'd like to hire a plane and see you in the morning.

Random.

Now I see clearly
It’s you I’m looking for
All of my days
Soon I’ll smile
I know I’ll feel this loneliness no more
All of my days


too much to handle lately.
I'm not sure what to say.
I'm not sure what I can say.
But yeah..

I've been working. Making money.
Its a good thing.
I want to make plans for later.
And I want them to work out.
And I ... I don't know.



Mass Pike is playing in the background as I try to come up with the words that could explain this feeling but nothing comes to mind. I have one hour until I need to leave for work. The convenience of working less than two blocks from ones own apartment. I try to come up with words. I try to sound clever and simple even though I am complicated and dumb. It doesn't work out. The words do not fall smoothly from my lips. They come in stalls and starts. They tumble to the floor and break into a thousand pieces so no one can understand. I try to pick them up and piece them together but I can no longer remember their meaning or order. They become useless. More than they were originally. Waste of Paint plays and it makes too much sense. "You see no beauty could have come from me. I'm a waste of breath, of space, of time." Some things make too much sense. Like art could save a wretch like me... I'm not sure where this summer is going. If it is in fact going anywhere. If this is just a space filler. If this is a summer that I will eventually lose to memory due to its lack of events. Will it just fall away to be buried underneath previous and future seasons.
"I try to just keep moving on, with my broken heart and my absent God
And I have no faith but it's all I want - to be loved."
Wishful Eyes sings itself to me form its bootlegged performance. It is beautiful. "Little smiles, every moment brings another wasted mile between everything and everything I need." I 'm not sure where this is headed. I feel like I just keep going and going but with no real destination in mind. I will just keep going until I find somewhere to stop. Maybe with someone. Maybe on my own. But where can I stop? Where will I find that comfort, the ability that will allow me to be able to stop running and spinning and trying and just be. Just be me, who ever I am at that point in time.
Surf Wax America. I miss fun. I miss the happiness of what listening to Weezer was when I was younger. I miss the days on the beach. Wen summer was completely carefree. When weeks in LBI didn't need to be scheduled around everyone's work. When a family could just take a vacation. And there weren't these problems that exist now. And when friends could skip a class trip for a day on the sand. When money was not such an issue. "All along the undertow is strengthening its hold. I never thought it'd come to this. Now I can never go home."
Further North. Just snow and a fire. The winter would be so nice if I had someone to hold me. To keep me warm. To stay with me. Its a long way off but its always a thought. Always present. Always a possibility. "And its beautiful and sad but its all that I had, so tonight lets stay inside."

Lyrical perfection is hard to come by. But sometimes there are lines that can act like a cord straight to your heart and pull it just right, or wrong depending on the moment. But it can be perfect, even in its pain. Perfectly beautiful even if it hurts.



I suppose I should go get ready for work at this point. At least start to make myself presentable.

The final song playing is Hands Down. I miss being a freshman in high school for the music alone. And for the friends I lost. But I wouldn't trade anything in the world for the friends I gained that year. I still have them and thats a wonderful thing. But this music... It was my life. It kept me sane. Sad to say but Dashboard Confessional, Brand New, Something Corporate, and The Starting Line were, some days, what kept me together. I don't know what that says about me.

But I do know that I want an event like that of the Hands Down lyrics. That could be fantastic.



Wow this went all over the place. My apologies.


And then it feels like you get punched in the heart.

who got a job?

I got a job!!!!!!!!


Doc watsons hired me and i start on wednesday at 5!!!!

"so stay here for a while
because its nice
because its holy
laugh and drink and smile
give advice
take it slowly
life goes by so fast
but its still
when your with me here
so let this moment last
say you will always be here
for one more"

So...

What is it that I'm thinking. I'm just not sure.


Ugh.


Two interviews in the coming days.
Doc Watson's Pub on Monday
Messages on Tuesday.
And who knows what else if I get calls.


Also worked Peddie tonight. Catering like a fiend.
WOrking once more tomorrow- twelve hours or so. Woot.

Yay money.

And I'm pretty sure I'm going to the Phillies game on Tuesday!

my grandmother is currently snoring across the room from me.
adorable.

scratch that 3.75...

and make it a 3.9!

apparently there was a computer glitch and mari messed up.
she sent me an email last night to say "my bad!" so now i have an A, rather than a B-!

Awesomeness!

3.75.


almost what i wanted and exactly what i got.

good enough for a very tough semester.

i am finished my second first year of college.
thank goodness.
its been a long two weeks but i'm done.
i mangaged to write 34 pages in 6 days. (impressive i think)
i did well in all my classes (in theory)
i didn't die under the pressure.
i didn't kill anyone else because of stress.

its all good.


thank god.

tomorrow we go look at a house.
an honest to goodness house in south philly
i'm excited.

so fuck your plan
i am not amused
you go scrimping about
but i'll stay here
i'll be the one to choose
we are not alright
we are not okay
i must not have been clear about it
i guess i have to say
you are not my life
you ar enot my soul
you are someone thats a part of me
your are not in control
and its not your fault
it was my mistake
i couldnt find the words to say
i couldnt stay

a slight break from the work.

i'm just putting this out there.
i hate college and finals and everything at this very moment.
and mari fielder even though i love her.
i just feel like i'm going to drown underneath all of my work right now.
its not cool.

and then i decided to write a book.

and this is the opening chapter.

She would sit in the corners of small cafes and watch the world go by. Claire never knew exactly what it was she was looking for but she knew that she never found it. She would sit, sipping her coffee, waiting. She would watch the couples strolling by, arms linked together happily. She would sneer. “Love,” she thought. “What a bunch of bullshit.”

Claire was a cynic. She did not believe in stupid matters like love and romance. She knew that there was no such thing in the world. The idea of being forever tied to another person was one to be completely abhorred in her mind. Marriage? No, thank you. Claire would much prefer to wade through the murky waters of life on her own. She did not need another person lagging along to point out what she was doing wrong., as she was sure any partner, if they could be called that, would do. Rather, Claire preferred her solitude. She liked to sit on her own, observing the world. Seeing what everyone was doing wrong, in her opinion, as that was the only one that could matter.

As she spent her days, working in an office, typing press releases, Claire grew restless. “There must be something to do,” she thought. But alas, there was not. Claire, in her unending cynicism, had alienated any friends she might have once had. They did not take kindly to being told that their way of life was wrong, as Claire insisted she do. Thus, there was no one to help Claire when she reached moments such as this one. And so, on she went, going about her daily routine, lacking gusto. She would work all day, spending her evenings in the café, acting the voyeur to others’ lives.

To use the term voyeur may not be appropriate. In many cases today this has a certain sexuality attached to it. In the case of Claire there was nothing of the sort. She just watched. And judged. She was a very judgmental person. Anyone who did not seem to agree with the strict guidelines she set forth to live by, such as the no relationships rule, was to be looked down upon. And Claire gladly did that. There were small moments when she would begin to doubt herself and the choices she made, but they were quickly brushed away. She might regret for a moment her choices but not for long. She knew that what she was doing must be correct, right?

One evening, not long after Claire began to think on her choices as regrets she noticed something new. As she sat in her regular seat in the café, the front corner between the counter and the window to avoid contact with others, Claire saw something. It was only out of the corner of her eye, but she thought she saw a flash of light. This would not have been so distracting on any other day, but today had been particularly cloudy. It was the kind of day Claire enjoyed, as it often matched her outlook. But there, just a few feet away there was a flash of light. Not quite like a beam of lightening but something. It was something white and radiant and beautiful, like a solitary Northern Light, in the middle of the cold Philadelphia streets.

As soon as she saw it Claire began to doubt herself. She knew that there was no way something like an Aurora Borealis could occur as a singular event, especially not in the middle of a Philadelphia street. She rationalized with herself. “There must have been a car driving by, a light reflected off of it and caused that flash. It was simply a reflection.” But it was not simple at all. Far from it. Little did Claire know that flash of light was one that would forever change her existence.