One thing that I just don't understand or like is that children want their doors open, a little or a lot. I lay in bed with my door closed, and think about how nice it is to keep everything else out. How nice it is, not to be able to see anything. How wonderful it is to be in my own little enclave of darkness. I always want to close the doors of those paranoid little children's room and say, "I am keeping the monsters out for you." Because that is, essentially, what I would be doing.

And now, I lay in bed, and I think, "I hate it when they turn the light on in the hall." Because they forget to turn it off. Even when my door is closed, and I'm having my secret Margo-life where I smoke and spray perfume around, I can still see that light with my eyes closed, and it bothers me. I wish they would leave the monsters in the dark.

I sat next to Ed in this beautiful room with windows, and thought about how my clothes were all wrong, though I did fit in quite nicely with all the other nerdy journalists, and I stared at my plate. I had two sandwiches, an excessively large cookie, and "healthy" cheetos (as if there is a such thing. they just hold off on the cheese, so they are not really cheetos). I realized that it was all going down hill, and that I could only understand half of what Ed was saying, because he is Brazilian. But I did catch the part where he told me that he moved here when he was 4, so I didn't really understand why I couldn't understand him. I didn't really want to be hanging out with him. I wanted Will, as crazy as Will is, to come over and talk to me. He could bring Darth Vader with him, even, and I wouldn't mind. I wanted to hear his stories about his head wounds from wrestling, and try to understand why he was into pro-wrestling even though it was fake.
Ed told me he was "white-washed", and that he was just stupid, so I nodded and/or shook my head, and ate my food. I watched him put about 18 free cans of Sprite in his back pack, as he told me, "What are they going to say? 'You can't take that much free pop'?" and I had to agree with him. He gave me his offending cheetos because they were 'taking up too much room'.

I guess it was a pretty nice day. But I hate riding a bus when I have a headache. I'd rather gargle bees and then saw my arm off.

The thing is, ladies and gentlemen I can’t do justice to the civil war. I can’t do justice to the pain of the north, or the pain of the south. I can’t do justice to the strife and the turmoil of the in-between times. I couldn’t tell you that it has initiated liberty (well maybe it has, but I wouldn’t know). I can’t pull up any documents to back me up, because I have too many other things to do. I can’t even really write this, now. I could write it later.
There’s the rub. I won’t want to do this later. I won’t want to do this tomorrow, I or in 3 years. When I’m old, and gray, burned out and downtrodden, I still think that I would rather be baking bread, and getting past what is going on at the present time. I think that, maybe I will watch the Civil War in a movie. I’m sorry to disappoint you Mr. K. If you need to fail me out of your class, I would understand.

I wonder how many babysitter's lives
Monopoly
has saved.

We stood in the kitchen with our brothers, eating icecream right out of the tub, and occasionally filling our coffee cups back up until we'd had enough.

I think I like chaos on a schedule. I think I haven't had a headache for a while. I think coffee makes me bearable. I think I'm going somewhere.
I'm getting really good at raising my eyebrows one at a time.

I got my freakin' Franz Ferdinand tickets, and it makes me NICE. I walked into Graywhale, and the ferril blonde guy kind of smiled, and I sheepishly whispered that I wanted some tickets, and a guy with a fro got them for me, and I wasn't an idiot this time. AND I LOOK LIKE A DRUGGIE.
I can't help the red eye. Not even red eye, that's about your pupil, this is the white part, and I'm freaking out. Matt Nanes won't even look me in the face.
Anyway, Fridays are nice, because you have momentum, but you don't have to worry about homework for the nice, you can just make your bed and lay in it and think of all the ways you are such a funny person, and know that everyone should love you.

"I am finally seeing, why I was the one worth leaving."

I thought, somehow, that I would be rich after I got my money for those grueling summer hours, but that was before I signed a contract for a cellphone, and bought 4 college textbooks on credit. Now, I am starting to wonder if I will ever pay off my truck, and just get a nice $4 coffee like I did at the beginning of the summer, when I was naive, and went on extravagant shopping sprees. I am an iiiidddiiiooottt with a headache this afternoon.

times that I realize I am whitebre(a)d.

there was that one time Ian, Ben, and I were jumping into the river from the rope, and these Latinos were watching us from the bridge, laughing. waiting. they wanted to know if I'd jump off. And then there were druggies that missed "4:20", actually drinking liquor from brown paperbags(I thought that was a stereotypical joke). They got in their car, and I realized they were driving drunk, and I wanted them to not be alive. I was wondering, why are they alive and not the sort of people who don't drive drunk? But I think Jesus would have been nice to them.

I remember sitting in somebody's living room I didn't know. They were both deaf, and my friend was talking to them, and I wanted more than anything to be home, under my covers where I was safe from what I didn't want to realize, I just wanted it to stay in the magazines. That was the first time I realized I was whitebread.

It's too late, tonight. I just keep hearing Franz Ferdinand in my head. When I am mad, they are singing "I'm cheating on you...I'm cheating on you." But when I'm sad, they are too, and Paul is singing, "So come on home....come on home, but don't forget to leave." and I'm so tired of everything.

Parties are sort of nice. I like them sometimes.
Paul Porter is fuuunny.


Matt's Girlfriend = red
Philip = green
Paul = blue

Paul is sipping really hot coffee.

So, if you had the choice between soda and cafe..coffee I mean, which would you pick?
Vodka.
He has his eyes on the coffee.
That's not a choice! Come on. I mean, if you had to choose between coffee and coke, what would you pick?
Whiskey.
Uh.
Okay, if you were choosing between whiskey and vodka, which one?
Neither, I don't drink.

Welp. I'm in love. I never really thought that this would happen. Except that one time in the hotel lobby when I fell in love too. BUT that was a long distance relationship. This is just at Smith's. At the One Hour Photo.
Huh.

"I need contact lenses like I need a poke in the eye."
-John Hegley

Saturday nights, I feel cultured and alive, and Sunday mornings I feel like a bad word. I hate being sick. Really, this is the third our fourth this summer. I don't even get sick that much in the whole school year. Sucky sucky sucky sucks.

You know what else stinks? eating split up dinners with my seven person family. You have to leave stuff for the other people that are on the phone, or off in a different town for a moment. Whereas, in altogether dinners, you don't have to leave stuff, its a free-for-all, and if you don't get something to eat, its just because you're not fast enough. (I'm so considerate, aren't I.)
I'm just having a really bad day, and I feel like taking a Lortab, even though I hate them.

Suddenly, I'm making use of my phone, like, actually trying to figure out how it works. And you know what, leaving messages suck, cuz no one ever calls me back. Trying to get everyone together is dumb too. If they're going to make it this hard, I don't even want to see them.

Another thought: I'm trying to make Gelato. I watched Tuscan Sun last night, learned Italian real quick, and now I just need to eat their icecream and have an Italian guy say he'd like to go swimming in my eyes. On second thought, that's weird and I don't like that. But I'll keep the ice cream.

I really love my life. And little headaches aren't as bad as big ones.

I changed my mind again. I do like nature. In the right context, not even on my wall.
Well, all we really wanted to do was go climbing, but we hiked for three hours over dirtbikes paths, private neighborhoods and boulder fields, behind waterfalls, over rushing rivers, and through the woods. We never found the wall, so we went somewhere else.
But it was nice, and I liked it, and I don't even know how.

This morning I woke up late and didn't go to morning church, cuz I definately went last night. I cleaned and read my Bible, and listened to music really loud (cuz I can only do that when they leave). God saw that it was good.

everything takes so long to wait for.

I don't know what else to do, so I try to pick up a book. or paint a picture.

but dang it, why should a cheesecake take all night.

I started crying about key lime pie. I'm officially freaked.

I also realized that I REALLY miss Pinky and the Brain.

I need a scholarship.

Most of this summer (well almost three weeks) has been an experimentation of being deaf. One ear, or the other has pretty much been out of function for a long while now. I have an appreciation for deaf people now, and I'm ready to go back to normal. I find my constant "what?s" to be quite embarrassing, and consequently annoying.

This has also been my 4th experimentation of the all church camp out. I really try to like it, I mean, it is beautiful. Nature is the kind of thing that you want to be framed on your wall as you are walking towards your bathroom with working toilets, or your bedroom with a nice comfy bed...or perhaps your living room, where you sit down to watch your favorite movie. I like nature, on the other side of the window. Mostly. That's all I'm saying right now.

Am I tired of summer? I keep thinking about these picturesque snowy scenes where I take my gloves out of the glove compartment, and walk into the house to the smell of gingerbread. Maybe, I just need another few hours of sleep.

the stupid rat dog got into our yard, and there was uproar. I was just wondering when I will ever be able to hear and taste and smell again. (it is really unfair that a cold can knock out three of your main senses in one blow) thinking that I rather like coughing syrup though. thinking I might be addicted. planning on taking my new bike for a spin, once I stop suffocating on tissue/toilet paper/ papertowel. hoping that I will write just the right thing on my scholarship applications. driving home in fogginess with fish in the passenger side (on emma's lap of course). knowing I'm wholly not the person I set out to be this summer: acknowledging that I am indeed, five pounds too heavy, and my hair is, unfortunately, no longer.

the stupid soda cans sit on the counter, and there is contemplation. deciding that they look good, but knowing they do not taste good. elbowing my way through my dreams. trying to find one to match my current state of...unpreparedness for the rest of my life. realizing that this is the last year that I may sit and eat popcorn and watch movies with the folks. realizing that I might want to stay home? making coffee with my own coffee maker and painting a picture that I'm fond of. (FOND OF!) oh.....who shall help me do the math.

seeing that I am not an economist like I thought I was.

It is weird, to be back, in the west. I feel like my personality has changed 9 times for 9 different types of people, and now I'm trying to make it normal again. I drove for 7 hours. Starting at 4 am. That feels very ......surreal. And now I'm back at home, and Jack is here, and the stairs are nice and cushy, and the bed I'm sleeping in is my own, and the paint on the wall is paint that I put there. I just want to smile and be all usual again. Because the usual is nice.

Anything you Want
Spoon

If there's anything you want
Come on back 'cause it's all still here
I'll be in the back room drinking my half of the beer
And if you and me is so right
Why is it the same thing every night?

It's just a matter of time
It's almost measurable
Imagination ain't kind on us
Tonight

You're at you best when you got the guns turned 180 degress
And finding out if it adds all up right
We go through the same lies
to sell out
to appease
But go to sleep in a bed of lies
I've made my own, more than once or twice

And now time is my time
Time is my own
I feel so alive, yet I feel so alone
'Cause you know you're the one and that that hasn't changed
Since you were 19 and still in school
Waiting on a light by the corner by Sound Exchange

I guess I haven't written in a real long time.

I'm still alive.

I'm somewhere east of the Mississippi. (Where the SAT's are important I suppose)

I made a shirt. I tried out DDR. I didn't do drugs. I can't really check my email. It doesn't work. I guess I just baked about 6 loaves of bread. And I drove about 1000 miles.

This feels sort of like running away.

Well, today I perfected my really bored face. I stood out on the lawn, trying to prepare myself to hang laundry for probably the 23rd time since vacation started, and I just knew that I had established the glazed "I'm not really alive" face. I stood there. Devoid of motion, and I knew that I was suddenly an expert at being bored.
Then I started monologuing. "Get a hold of yourself Rachel! Do you know how pathetic you are?" and so I accomplished three things today,
-I found my library card and
-I went to the library and
-I primed a board that I will paint a picture on tomorrow. (assuming I finish my first one)
*oh, and I finished the day without taking one single nap
p.s. I'm wearing a workout headband
p.s. I think it's hard to go jogging in the morning if you are addicted to the late show and watch it everynight.
p.s. I'm not addicted to the late show. the last time I watched it was last summer when Lettermen had the Strokes play. I watched the whole episode just to see those darling Italian boys. (but I am addicted to SNL, which makes it just as hard to go jogging Sunday morning but I don't do that anyway)

"I loved Ophelia. Forty thousand brothers could not, with all their quantity of love, make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her?"
-Hamlet

One time, I asked Jordan what color his jeep was going to be and he said
"Well it wants to be gray."
Now I'm thinking about my internet connection
"It wants to be on"
but maybe I'm giving it more merit than it deserves.

YOU KNOW WHAT! I DON'T CARE IF ANYBODY'S LISTENING ANYMORE. I'M GOING STIR CRAZY AND IT DOESN'T COUNT BECAUSE THEY WON'T LET ME OUT OF THE ARMY UNLESS I'M CRAZY, BUT IF I'M CRAZY THEN HOW ARE THEY GOING TO KNOW? ALL THEY THINK ABOUT IS THEIR CRACK HABITS.

I feel like
writing a story, but they all end up so tragic and desperate and sad

I feel like
singing but I can't remember all of the words

I feel like walking up to Rob Thomas and asking
just what is he thinking

I feel like
having some one look at me for three seconds
instead of two
(cuz that's when they look away)

I feel like
disappearing into a white puff of smoke that would land
on that boy's shoe (the one he scuffed on the door jam
as he walked in) and I would just keep floating until I
was mostly oxygen, only to be breathed in and breathed
back out.

Everything is over, and it's so WEIRD.

I turn off the radio when they play those songs about being alone. Except if it's Spoon. Then I just dance.

"I feel so alive yet I feel so alone."

So I was throwing back bottle after bottle of water. I met Steele's brother again, and now I sort of know what Steele would look like if he had short hair and glasses. And I was in the swimming pool at the party, and I was the only one there my age, which is awkward most of the time, but I sort of know what it's like to LOVE people. Because I loved them, and I didn't see their faults, and I didn't see the tattoes and the cigarettes and the alcohol, because we were just laughing and loving each other. (besides, I don't really think there is anything wrong with those three things)

Oh yeah. I LOVE JESUS.

should we
ever recover
this whole thing will look so funny
all the things
we think we need to chill about
are really not that
BIG
but we drink coffee to make them go away
we shout at Jace through the window
and we hide from the authorities
(when we don't have our licenses on hand)

I don't know if I'm really living in this body
is this my brain?
she says to me, that everything is crashing down around us
but I don't know, really.

I don't know if that boy just said
what I think he just said
I don't know what I'll do

Is this it?
or do we brush things off and take a new page...
I'd be willing to hide my head in the sand
even while they call my name
because I don't know what I'll do. (for a while)

so I'll sit (for a while) and wonder
and I'll know, (in a minute)
what to do. but it's so hard (for a minute).
just to sit here.

Jesus and so much rock and roll

Today I bought three pairs of shoes in 15 minutes. For fifteen minutes I was like some real girl who carries a purse and has a boyfriend and cheats on her boyfriend and texts people she really doesn't care about. ONLY, I don't date, I was wearing a tie dye shirt, had smart glasses on, and I didn't really have a purse. Some strange moments.

I also have nice sunglasses, but you can't really wear them in the dark unless you're Ray Charles and I'm not.

But, it's been the best weekend ever, and I don't know how it could get any better unless I could win the lottery and give it all to my favorite church, but I don't have a ticket. ( I might keep some money to go to Westminster and buy my parents a house with some land )

Also, I can't believe school's almost over and that I'm happy about it. I can't believe rock and roll in a parking lot with people I love. It's been fantastic and I know that everything is just barely starting and it freaks me out because it's so amazing...

My family, it seems, has a small obsession with the three hole punch. They always want to know where it is, and somehow in the 35 minutes before they all decide they need to three hole punch something else, it is misplaced. I don't understand it, but I bet if you came over in say an hour in a half, and walked through the door, somebody would be yelling up the stairs "Where's the three hole punch?"

I like this whole vacation thing. I forgot what its like to look at myself in the mirror and not see all my worry stenciled out in my eyes. And I smile, cuz it's that great to forget about math assignments for a minute, and to not think about kids at school that I don't want to think about, and have dreams at night that don't involve someone ruining my life, or me finding dead bodies in the cupboard. Its nice to be able to wake myself up because I have, ahem, an alarm clock. "Time" has entered my bedroom, so now I can't be late for work.
Really, the only thing I want to worry about is putting enough moisturizer on my face for the sunburn.

driving home from the Garden of Eden and we're sitting in the car, listening to Tom Petty, and I really really like his song Wildflowers, because I think he's singing it to a feminist. It's nice, and I think that all boys should hear it.

I can't have imagined a happy 24 hours, because I didn't spend one minute thinking about my problems, it was like they didn't exist in the pool, in the car, in the mountains, in our gaudy apartment complex. We sat in the sauna and laughed in the steam, we made fun of the boyfriends and girlfriends, and the fat women kerplunking into the pool outside the sauna doors. We walked around in t-shirts and shorts, like the rich people do and slept in beds that were 4 feet off the floor.

I don't think I'll forget, and I like this happy radiation we all have now. It's so familiar...

This life is kind of funny. Actually, its mostly funny, unless you don't want it to be.
And I thought the 60's were sort of clean. I get you now, Pete.

The boy next to me in History class sometimes leans over, and he whispers things like we're accomplices. Like we're best buddies. Like he used to when I saw him 4 hours a day, and ate pizza with him at parties. He says things that he doesn't say to the boys next to him. To his friends. Maybe he forgets, for a moment, that he quit me? I don't regret him, just don't understand him. All he talks about is cars. So I sit back and take in only half of Vietnamese wars. Only half of hippies. Only half of the clock spinning its wheels til it makes my life 8:50 a.m. and none of us talk to each other. I'm on a caffeine high, pounding my desk. Who is he? And I'm in second period now. My bright green back is being videotaped by the girl who's last name probably stars with E or F because she sits to the right of me. My teeth start chattering. Who the heck are these people around me? I DON'T LIKE THEM. Except Carrie who sometimes whispers to me. (she's losing her voice)
and Heidi who wants to cook with me and I always walk her cousin Steve to seventh period. Just because its tradition, and also because we like the same concentration of music. I also eat with Erin every once in a while, but who are these other people? And why don't they see me banging my head on my desk? Maybe they can't hear me LAUGHING at them. Laughing at their midnight walks through the snow. Laughing at their prom dresses. Laughing at their parents, who pay for their gas. LAUGHING, because they don't know what the real world IS. They don't understand what it's like to be sitting next to people who think that you're crazy because you don't date. They don't know that what I do on the weekends, or that I'm really not a freak ( I'm trying to be somewhat normal) and that I DO rent movies from Blockbuster, and I do eat chocolate when I need it. (they don't know that. They think I have a crush on Sam Waterston. They don't know me.)

And now. I'm sitting in my hot truck, and she's telling me that she said it, for me, and I nod, in a stuff-mart parking lot, realizing I will never fill my photo album cuz I keep losing money at the gas station (I can't live without some freakin' coffee). I know that half an hour ago, I didn't have enough to say, but I've said it all, now, haven't I?

"Well, I call that a scratch."
"Why?"
"Because it went off the table, that's why."

Oh God, please don't tell me this has been in vain
I need answers for what all the waiting I've done means

I feel like a cripple. I walk like one at least. Zealous excercise. Sundays are so strange. Saturday nights make them strange. Everything is so surreal these days.

"Hey, I think we should try this new thing at our house, like sleeping at night. You know, I'm instituting a new rule. We're going to sleep when we're tired. That sounds nice." -my dad at 9:30 last night.

It takes a lot to laugh, and it takes a train to cry.

One of my all time favorite sounds is pinecones crunching. It's kind of like the sound of stepping on a bee, but less morbid because a pinecone is already dead. It's a sound you get to hear only once per pinecone, because you can't resquish them.

Here is what I dream of: I step outside, and I walk along a road of pinecones, and they all crunch. It's never winter, except when I want coffee. And my mailbox is full of chocolate, because somebody sent me some cuz they know I like it.

If you want to know a secret, it's too late. Unless you beg on your knees. I might tell you.

sign up: the picket line or the parade

ONE TIME

"Well, I've never gotten anything below a D. Well, I got a couple F's. But I'm saying I've never actually gotten a D." -Philip

I like Audioslave, and any songs that sort of sound like Audioslave, I attribute to them. It's kind of nice when people do that to you.

"I asked Elaine if she was depressed about the pope, but she's not catholic. Jess, do you have the Pope?"
"Yeah, I keep him in my pocket."
-Alison and Jess

we have style, charisma, we have pronounciation....

I think that I will write a story about a family who eats nothing but soyburgers. Oh, they cook it different ways. Barbequed or microwaved, in a box with a fox. It's like spam. Its all purpose.

In leiu of the Valentine's Day, I'd like to take a moment, and I think we should all wash our hands real quickly. I mean, unless you think germs are nice.

Even though it's Valentine's Day, I still had to scrub the little toilets at work. But they gave me seven pounds of those Necco hearts. Even though I only eat the white ones.
Even though it's Valentine's day, I'm not in love. But oh baby, I'm in love. The rain does something to your brain. Kelsea and Jordan and I took like, 99 red and white and pink balloons to Andy's house for fun, because we just had the balloons tied to our hands and we were gonna float away. Andy's brother didn't even blink 9 times when we just left the balloons in the stairwell and left. And then we ran through the ghetto, in the rain, and it was so fun. I was practically in love.

I have to book it somewhere.

Have a fantastic day.

This one time, I was like, trying to read your xanga, but I couldn't because the colors were blinding me. I'm sorry, that's just the way it was.

I'm rolling my eyes, because I just deleted a bunch of crap so you wouldn't have to read it: isn't that sweet of me? Oh...cute.

I used up all the words. I keep them all inside of me, in Mrs. Johnson's class. I keep them inside of me when Jordan isn't listening, and people interrupt. I keep the words inside when I walk down the halls with buddies who give me high fives. And I keep my words away from blue notebooks, when I feel like writing them down. They are still in my throat, and they won't come out, because they don't need to.

Grandparents in town. I shut myself in the bathroom to count to ten; I pray I don't kill my sister for wearing blood red lipstick on her white face and twirling in my skirt at Village Gardner or whatever, eating sandwiches as I am at school. I've been rather good, considering. I got amazing beautiful grades (even though I missed a total of 14 classes this quarter) and I am on my way to physical well being (meaning I'm keeping up with yoga and cutting down on my coffee/dr. pepper/empty calorie intake. Computer crash. We got a new hard drive. All my best stories were lost. Shoulda made hard copies, or published more of them on secret blogs. I might cry. It's like somebody stole my memories, not to mention my art. Dang Gina. Oh yeah. I think I had the most passionate anger outburst in my life. Yesterday. It was like, everything I've been mad about for a long time just came out as I watched Jordan's face give me these looks I've never seen before like, "Is this you? Are you going to beat me with a stick?" This is a really good apple. I swore to my mom that she couldn't make me go to prom, and that she could forget about having grandchildren because I'm never getting married. I'll join the Carmel nuns, right here in Utah. I'll just pretend to be Catholic, and I'll pray about you guys, even though you don't deserve it cuz YOU NEVER LEAVE ME COMMENTS. I'll sneak out for a good movie now and then, but otherwise, don't bother. After nunning for two years, I will move to Belgium and live in a Waffle House. The native boys will ask me if I'm a cowgirl, but I will not go out with them. Don't. Stop. Wait. I am sleeping on the couch. My head hurts. Goodbye.......I'm not coming back.

B-day stands for amazing. I really love these things:

- Jennifer Neddo (she always get Mrs. Johnson going on some whacked subject and wastes all class time so we don't have to do anything but sit there and make faces at each other when Johnson goes crazy)
- the fact that Kelsea doesn't even really do school anymore, she just shows up, then sits in other people's car til the bell practically rings
- milk shakes and chicken soft tacos (food in general)
- Mr. Pinnock's class, I don't get it, it just works
- chinese food ( I'm hungry, okay)
- April (it's coming)
- rock climbing, let's go