Photography
Hey people.. I'm really sick right now, so I figure, what more fun thing to do when your sick than to post pictures on your blog? But actually it's more because Allie and I had a "Photoshoot" yesterday at my house.. so you know, inspiration and what-not. Actually before I had a camera, it hadn't occured to me how incredibly fun it is to take pictures.. and incredibly unrewarding if you're photographing yourself. We were going for four themes like Quadrophenia.. the thing is that we're quadrophenics.. we're not schizo we're quadro.





Chet... pimped out
Allie thought it would look cool if he was grasping the bar... ::no comment::

Chet in my room.

Chet'n'Allie.. pimped out
















By this point, Chet was getting annoying and he wasn't giving my hat back.



Aarushi le Bohémien

Let's just ignore the fact that I look gross.

As you can see, I'm starting to get a little pissed off..

Me getting mad at Allie for being annoying.

Don't you love my shoes...?
...and my skirt?

Allie le modèle















RocknRoll Suicide...

there's me... bein emo.

Right now I'm being musical...
See... this is why I need lessons.


i think i sneezed


just take a look at how incredibly huge my nose looks.


Yeah me being a straight-A student. I never dress like this.

Reading:
Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince!!!!!!!!!!

And I can't put it down. It's the raunchiest installment yet.... But I CAN'T GIVE ANYTHING AWAY....
see u when i'm finished. am currently on p. 345.

Am currently listening to:
Dark Side of the Moon
Pink Floyd
Capitol Records




I am listening to this amazing song at the moment of the album mentioned above. If you haven't heard of it, Dark Side of the Moon, is the legendary must-have Pink Floyd album that still takes the mind and mood of any real music enthusiast by storm. I mean how genius is it to make a slow tempo, mainly instrumental album with long songs? Incredibly genius, because every moment of this album feels so expertly crafted.
So anyway, the two tracks that are singing my heart out at the moment are Time and Money. That is they are my situational heart singers. The other songs identify with me on an emotional level as well.

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day, you fritter and waste the hours in an off hand way.
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your hometown, waiting for someone or something to show you the way.
Tired of lying in the sunshine, staying home to watch the rain. You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today.
And then one day, you find ten years have got behind you.
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun.

Time, at this moment, is expressing the fact that I'm wasting mine away. That before long it will all have run out and that I'm gonna need it for all the goals I have set. The time to act is now. Cuz my schedule's pretty empty at the moment. See the thing is, since my drama camp is over, I need to think of a way to fill my time. That's easy. Music. Write some songs. Wait, you can't write any of the songs you want without a guitar. Okay then, get some of those guitar lessons, practice and read articles. Hone your craft, listen to as much music as possible. But then there's this thing. I have no resources. I have no money. Which is where the song, Money, comes in.

Money, get away
Get a good job with more pay and you're OK
Money. It's a gas.
Grab that cash with both hands and make a stash.

What's that? Oh yeah. To get money, you need a job, since your parents aren't handing it out much anymore. We're trying to save money for the new house. So none of this unneccessary bullshit like music. And not to mention, saving for college. Because I'm not sticking my parents with that bill. And I did just spend my last ten bucks at the movies... I was so hungry that I needed some pretzels. Damn.
So naturally, I'm filling out applications. But it's HARD. I mean, let's just think, teenage girl, willing to work hard and for many hours for the bright light that is minimum wage. You'd jump at that opportunity, huh? I mean, I'm an artist, a bohemian, a rocker, a dramaqueen, whatever. I don't ask for much. I'm a good, honest, hardworking, smart, friendly, cute person. I could sell coffee. I could ask people what kind of cheese they want on their noodles? Open up a bottle of Izze...
But no, wait am I old enough? Come on. I'm fourteen. Can't you see mature young adult? I'm worldly. I've been to India and England and France (though I was a baby at that time). I have a lot of knowledge or at least a little of all of the artists they play at Starbucks. Oh, oh, ask me how many congresspersons there are. Ask me what bicameral means. I know lots of dirty jokes!

References? Oh come on, I get straight As. I won the spelling bee. What more do you need to know?
Previous Work Experience? I'm a great babysitter. I have a license. Plus I can do CPR, heimlich too, and on babies.
Skills?
I know all the words to Bohemian Rhapsody, all the lyrics to Revolver, my brain is overflowing with pop culture references, I have an extensive vocabulary. I can almost speak fluently in four languages plus Pig Latin, I have good people skills, I make good first impressions (it's actually second impressions I worry about), I'm a good memorizer, I can lick ice cream off my chin, I have great handwriting...

The lunatic is in the hall. The lunatics are in my hall. The paper holds their folded faces to the floor and every day the paper boy brings more.
And if the dam breaks open many years too soon and if there is no room upon the hill and if your head explodes with dark forbodings too, I'll see you on the dark side of the moon.

Thinking about this for too long is leaving a sour taste in my mouth. Probably owing to some phlegm or something. Eww. Sorry. I can feel my inner frustrations brimming until I guess I'll burn out and have to do something. I find it so difficult to believe that I actually have an unbelievable amount of self control. If I had been born with less, I may have been able to live life more peaceably. I want to let go so badly.

So what's going to fill my day tomorrow...

--> I'm going to listen to every album in my collection and pick out the ones that are going to Halfprice books.
--> I'm going to do something healthy and get out of the house in the process.
--> Pick out books that should go to halfprice books as well.
--> Visualize the reality that I want and make small but real changes to my lifestyle in order to get to that reality and dispose of this forboding reality.
--> Write on this blog.
--> Clean the clutter on the hard drive.
--> Find some way to get iPod to stop fucking up.
--> Make some contact with the outside, corporate, public world.
--> Call one of those friends that you haven't talked to in weeks. Because they said they'd hang with you over the summer, and you are going to make them feel like they won't be able to live without you.
--> Listen to all those songs that you clearly don't listen to enough. Pretend the Who, Queen and the Strokes don't exist for at least a day.
--> Call a relative.
--> Practice your art.

Photos from my Life

A few weeks ago, I went shopping with my friends, Allie and Cassie on State Street.

Me in a lovely bohemian beret, at Ragstock, finally my look reflects my emotional state. Too bad I didn't buy it.

Allie in this hat that she really liked. You can probably see Cassie in the side of it.


There's Allie again. Isn't she hot?


Hey! Look it's Cassie the lone ranger.

There's me looking like the sad little girl that I am.

Allie in a Charlie Chaplin hat at the hat store.

The interior of the hat store.

Me in a Summer hat. Kind of gets you in the mood, huh?

I am going to spend some time feeling sorry for myself. Because I am missing the Weezer/Pixies concert right now. Puh... it's a reunion concert! And I've been talking about it all year.

Am consoling myself with the white stripes. Oh and by the way i met zach braff and rachel bilson.

Goals for the Summer
-make myself the most cool person in the world so that people will like me at memorial.
-get job. Any job.
-as soon as CTM's over, signup for guitar lessons
Finish this later.

Adam Brody is simply amazing. I mean, he's funny, he's got a great personality, he's in a band, he likes good music, including the Pixies, Bright Eyes, Death Cab for Cutie, etc, he's got great looks, pretty hair, he's clever, he was on Gilmore Girls, in which he was in a band and dating the only girl on TV who has good musical taste, he's really really cute when he's kissing anyone. And he looks amazing sad. And he's jewish. I don't know how that factors in, but trust me there's a track. And he has great sideburns. But this makes him possibly the most dateable person in the world. If you didn't get what I was getting at is that he's a Democrat. He showed up FOR Kerry. Even though, that was probably evident through his musical taste. But anyway, he's so awesome. And he's the kind of guy who melts. And if you don't get that, that's okay.

I seriously think I may be hypomanic. This first occurred to me when my father was discussing his overstimulus and the fact that he is so energetic, sometimes, even in the middle of the night is unable to sleep, though he's very tired. And it registered that I have these exact symptoms. I try and cope by using coffee. He also said that he's always thinking, just as I do, my brain never winds down.
Here is the medical dictionary's definition:

Hypomania: A condition similar to mania but less severe. The symptoms are similar with elevated mood, increased activity, decreased need for sleep, grandiosity, racing thoughts, and the like. However, hypomanic episodes differ in that they do not cause significant distress or impair one's work, family, or social life in an obvious way while manic episodes do.
Hypomanic people tend to be unusually cheerful, have more than ample energy, and need little sleep. Hypomania is a pleasurable state. It may confer a heightened sense of creativity and power. However, hypomania can subtly impair a person's judgment. Too much confidence can conceal the consequences of decisions.

It's funny, but I think sometimes forces of nature make a huge difference. Today, I was in an awful mood as I was walking home. I'd just had a fight with two of my friends. Both: involved me being shouted at, loudly. and Both: compelled me to take a minute in the hallway with a friend. Did I mention it's my birthday? well not exactly my birthday. but a day leading up to it. And in my mind, you're birthday sits dead center on a week and there is a buffer around it where everyone has to at least hold their tongue around you.

It's silly. But it's true. And I felt hurt, and sad and I didn't know what to do, because I don't think it was justified in the situations I was placed in for someone to be angry with me at all. I know it's stupid and silly and seems biased but I didn't see the point. My friend, okay, said that my diary wouldn't have an effect on someone if it were published and it wouldn't hold lessons. And I don't know, but I was hurt. And I have been, by this person before, been hurt in such a way. I mean, I know it's not meant to hurt anything, but it feels like a put-down. I mean, it's not like I think that I'm like, the best writer in the world or the smartest or even the most dramatic. But I at least think that it might affect someone in someway. That maybe someway, someone could be inspired by it. I mean, it's only what I always wished. That maybe my plight could lighten someone elses, in some way at least. I would hope that's what I'm doing here. But I have no way of knowing what others feel when they read this. I mean, I'm not clairvoyant, but I don't know, I wish to believe that people read this and are enlightened, or impressed or at least entertained.

So I told her that I didn't wish to speak to her any more. And this of course makes her very angry, because she feels as if I'm taking her words too personally. What an effect words have. BECAUSE IT REALLY DOES MATTER. I swear, it may not seem like it, but every fucking thing you do affects someone else. Always always always remember that. It doesn't even matter if you were trying to or not, but you'll always affect someone else. Because there's always someone paying attention, someone who hears...

So anyway, the other was something more trivial. Apparently, I was being annoying or something because I was sticking up for someone else and telling my other friend to stop being mean to someone. So this wonderful class culminated in me being yelled at by two people simultaneously in the same French class, in front of everyone. I'm sure as hell, that no one really cared, and it's a good thing that I can handle embarrassment well.

I just left the room. Which was okay. Because we had a sub, who told us to talk until our French teacher came from the other school. (Because of a tornado warning we had. We had all speculated, even having to sit with our backs against a cold brick wall.) I saw my friend Sarah at her locker and we had a chat, which shedded some much-needed perspective ("Well at least they won't be at your birthday party!") Even my math teacher saw us and asked us what we were doing, also telling me that the word was out that Aarushi's upset. (It's just like me. Everything about me is just bigger, more dramatic. Other people have fights with their friends subtley, but oh-no. not me. I have to get bitched at in front of the whole damn class.)

But people like me don't let our embarrassment show, we hold it in and our heads up. So I went back to class, past my friends and sat down and read the Kurt Cobain Journals. The people stared, but they lost interest, because I'm not really that interesting. So I sat and read the original version of Smells like Teen Spirit, until our teacher finally came. We ended French and I was still incredibly hurt. I maintained a civil face until I left school, because the tornado lockin doesn't apply to people who live next door to the school. It was okay out, a little damp. The winds were strong but only enough to blow your hair, which was in pigtails and didn't really care.

So, I, still in one of my moods akin to the famous APT self-decided-outside-solitary-confinement-with-iPod episode last summer at Shakespeare camp, sat on my front lawn with my backpack and my notebook, a pen and the Cobain journals. It's just a thing I do. I go outside and write. Usually on gray, slightly windy days, like today.

I wrote about my atmosphere using metaphors of course, because it woulda been stupid to write a poem or song or whatever about sitting on your lawn in your chucks with your notebook. But suddenly my need for metaphors disappeared as the wind blew, which didn't scare me, because, when you're in a bad mood, the weather conditions don't matter. So I wrote and as the thunder started to rumble and the lightning began to bolt, I wrote faster. The weather reflecting my mood so I wouldn't have to. I just wrote and wrote, letting the narration of weather be the narration of my life. The wind blew and the rain poured and the hail hit and my notebook just kept getting wetter. But it still contained it. I realized that I might get attacked by my own rubbish bin, so I opened the garage and ran in. I soaked in a bit of heat, putting on the song, Reign O'er Me by the Who and sitting on my porch steps, still writing. Sifting my thoughts straight through my pen. I didn't even have to chew on the back of my pen. It was just so urgent that I had to get it out. And the rain and storm compelled me as did Keith Moon's drumming and I had to keep going no matter how cold it was, because it was what I was being told. By the weather, which forced me, which needed me to keep on writing. So I could rid myself of anger, so I could gain something.

I feel like, I don't know, I wouldn't have had that same Musical-Rainy Epiphany thing if it hadn't been raining and I hadn't been outside. But I always felt like, the weather affected my moods, or my moods affected the weather. I mean it was sunny, but as I grew sadder and madder, it just erupted outside, as I began to feel more detached from my emotions. Almost like the storm was taking it with it. The song ended and I was finished writing and the storm had ended. And so had my tears.

This post is rated pg-12 for Aarushi's temperate language.
In the background, here, in the study/Chet's room, because of my recent computer relocation, I can hear the Rugrats. Angelica is screaming, Tommy's on some kind of adventure and Chucky's whining, again. You think those babies would learn. Only one thing comes to mind while hearing this, (we'll just disregard the fact that I just yelled at my poor sick brother to "turn the damn thing down because it's giving me a headache") I hate Rugrats!
I swear. It takes something as endearing as young children and makes them disgusting and annoying and LOUD. I mean, what is with Phil and Lil? Eww. This is an awful example to children. Eating worms? What the hell? Yeah, because that's my idea of fun. Along with playing with dirty diapers.
Tommy! Oh My god.. you fucking enabler. You are continuously making messes and not cleaning up after yourself. And you put yourself through unintelligent hoaxes. Like, let's pretend that Chucky's dad's new greenhouse is a jungle. Just because we can. OMG! A hose! It must be a snake. Run babies!
And Angelica. How I loathe her. How can someone be that obnoxious? How stupid do you have to be to watch obnoxious and annoying kids like this and not think, must change the channel?
The only person on that show who didn't have issues was Chucky. What a doll. See, he didn't want to break the rules and go into places without permission.
And how can babies be that stupid? I wanna use the "invisdible" powder because it'll make me "invisdible".
And the parents on this show. Are they just neglective or are they high? I mean, Didi should pay more attention to her kids than what Dr. Lipschitz tells her about her kids. And Stu, needs to get a job. Those stupid toys that he makes aren't getting him anywhere. I just feel sorry for the poor parents, who already have screaming children and have to endure more of it on their children's favorite television shows. I'm now thankful that my mother didn't expose me to that at a young age.