Let me know that I've done wrong When I've known this all along I go around a time or two Just to waste my time with you
Tell me all that you've thrown away Find out games you don't wanna play You are the only one that needs to know
I'll keep you my dirty little secret (Dirty little secret) Don't tell anyone or you`ll be just another regret (Just another regret, hope that you can keep it) My dirty little secret Who has to know
When we live such fragile lives It's the best way we survive I go around a time or two Just to waste my time with you
Tell me all that you've thrown away find out games you don't wanna play you are the only one that needs to know
I'll keep you my dirty little secret (Dirty little secret) Don't tell anyone or you'll be just another regret (Just another regret, hope that you can keep it) My dirty little secret
Who has to know The way she feels inside (inside) Those thoughts I can't deny (deny) These sleeping dogs won't lie (won't lie) And now I try to lie It's eating me apart Trace this life out
I'll keep you my dirty little secret (Dirty little secret) Don't tell anyone or you'll be just another regret (Just another regret)
I'll keep you my dirty little secret (Dirty little secret) Don't tell anyone or you'll be just another regret
I'll keep you my dirty little secret Don't tell anyone or you'll be just another regret (Just another regret, just another regret, hope that you can keep it) My dirty little secret Dirty little secret Dirty little secret
Who has to know? Who has to know?
- The All-American Rejects
"I'm going to a party at Sam's house tomorrow. And I'll be staying the night because it's one of those kinds of parties..." "Really? I'm not sure if I approve of such parties." "But...I've gone to these kinds of parties before." "Yes, I know, I was just attempting to fill the role of a responsible parent."
"There are many twists and turns in the road of life. Many bends to go around. And this road takes you many places. Many places. The road of life may bring you to places that you never really expect to go. And eventually the road of life will bring you to the gas station of life. And the gas station in life will help you along, and be a stopping point when you need it. And then it will also bring the bathroom of life. Many interesting things may happen in this bathroom, and it could possibly change your life. [I'm going to lose my virginity and morals in a bathroom?] But then you return to the road of life, and all the turns and bends that come with it. And this road of life will take you many places, and through many places (for instance, Banff)[Which, is the the STD capitol, by the way]. And through all this, the road may be difficult and hold dangers [like STDs?] and you must look after your tires and get them through it. [I have to check my tires for STDs?]. Remember to change them seasonally and check their air pressure. [I should change boyfriends seasonally?] [Is anybody actually following this?] [Not really.] [I stopped listening.] [I definitely got lost.] [What's going on?]"
-Elliot's attempted...supportive? motivational? encouraging? inspirational?...talk for Rae, narrated ( [ ] ) by the rest of us, Kees, Rae, Miranda, Sam, and myself.
I want to tell you about walking with nowhere to go.
I want to tell you about how rash I am, and how I don't want to be judged because of it.
I want to tell you about that moment when all my emotions explode out of me.
I want to tell you about the moment after, when suddenly all those voices in my head stop, and I'm all alone.
I want to tell you about the silence that doesn't need to be filled.
I want to tell you about the smell of pollen and dandelion spores.
I want to tell you about the doe who looked at me.
I want to tell you about how reality isn't always as realistic as we think it is.
I want to tell you about how I was always expecting you to run into me, and we could just talk for hours on end.
I want to tell you about my views, dreams, and beliefs about life.
I want to tell you everything I've gone through, and how it's made me who I am right now.
I want to tell you everything.
But I won't. It can't be explained in a blog.
Even if you really want to know, enough so that you remember this blog when you see me next, and we're all alone, and you say 'Robyn, tell me about everything you mentioned', I won't.
I'll want to. But I'll just look you in the eyes, and open my mouth to say it all.
And then that familiar barrier between me and words will materialize again, and even though I may have known what I wanted to say when I thought about it from a distance, once it really comes to it, I'll lose it.
It happens every time.
So I'll just close my mouth, and smile, and make some excuse, like how I was in a weird mood when I wrote this. Then I'll change the subject to something simple that I can keep up with in conversation.
My one comfort is that I'm learning how to tell you everything. I promise I am. And one day, I swear I will actually tell you.
It'll be dark. And even though there may be other people in the room...tens, hundreds, thousands...I'll feel all alone.
But I'll welcome the solitude. Because it won't be real solitude. It'll be everything finally coming together.
I'll be up there. The light will come on. And I'll begin my story.
Which story I'll tell will be different every time. But I'll tell it. And I won't be using words. That would be too limiting for everything I want to say. Besides, I already said I'm no good with words.
There will be no words. But you'll understand. Finally, after years of learning how to convey emotions, and tell tales, I'll be able to make you understand. I'll open up and pour everything out to you.
Providing you're willing to listen to the starving musician on that stage, with dreams too big for life itself.
Yes, I got a nifty new list of blog links. Check it out --->
I know. You're all jealous. =)
Features: it lists all the blogs by how recent they were updated, and lists the title of the most recent post.
Not that you couldn't have figured that out for yourself, but I felt the need to say it out loud, just because it's that cool. Plus, now I can use that to see which ones have been updated, instead of having to check all of them every night. Time saver! (by, like, 30 seconds, but whatever)
Other than that, I'm basically just blogging to show you a little excerpt of what is going on in my mind right now...
Self: Life is beautiful. Summer's here, it's warm, high school is over...
Musician: Practice for your frickin' exam! Studies! You shall fail them!
Self: Ah, negative thoughts! You are not wanted here! Repress! Repress!
Musician: Don't shut me out! You know it's true!
Guilt factor: How will you ever succeed with this attitude? You need to practice to be a musician! And you're not practicing! How can you call yourself a real musician!
Self: Repress! Repress!
Clueless optimism: Oh, it's so sunny out. Finally having nothing to do is wonderful. Everything will be fine. You're fine for your pieces, and your excerpts, and even scales aren't that bad. We'll be fine. Life is beautiful, and wonderful, and gorgeous...
Procrastination: Besides, you can practice later. All you really need to do is look over them. And anything that you really can't play, it's kind of too late to fix it anyways. So, really...
Self: Okay, maybe you guys are right. I'm okay.
Musician: Practice, you loser!
Guilt factor: You're going to fail! Fail!
Self: Shut up! Help me out guys!
Optimism: Tralalala, life is grand...life is wonderful...
Guilt factor: Failure!!
Self: Optimism! Work harder!
Optimism: Tralalala, he'll go away eventually...
Self: That's not helping.
Imagination: Hm, what could we bring out...we have your Raven storyline we could go into. Or you had that fascinating dream last night we could focus on...
Self: That's true. That really was interesting. There was this guy, and we were in this house...
Musician: Practice!! Practice!!
Self: Ouch, that load of negative feeling hit me like a load of bricks.
Guilt Factor: Good! Do something about it!
Self: Fine! Time to bring out the big guns...
ADD: Hey, look, a bird!
Self: Ooh, it's a really fat one. And he's just sitting in the yard. I wonder if he'll do anything...
ADD: Let's watch. Or even better, go water those flowers, they're looking a little wilty. Woah, Champ has a stick!
And the rest is history.
Seriously, my dream last night. There were a lot of different things, but the thing that was constantly happening was the fact that we were at a house resembling my grandparents, and Guys with Ties were there. Doing a gig...in the basement...whatever.
Anyways, there was this other guy who was really quiet and reserved and I like him, and talked to him and hung out with him a bunch. For some reason I couldn't remember his name. Like, ever. All I could remember was that his middle name was Ryley.
So when Ryley (Guys with Ties, Ryley) came over, I introduced him as Ryley, mostly because I thought it was funny to introduce Ryley and Ryley.
Then dream Ryley laughed and said that wasn't actually his name, and I'm like, yeah, it's his middle name, but I thought it would be funny to introduce you two like that. Then we all laughed, but it was slightly awkward, because I just didn't introduce him by his first name, because I couldn't remember it. Then it struck me how much middle name Ryley looked like Guys with Ties Ryley. And I have a vague thought that maybe that's why I liked him. =P
I also remember taking the bus to work. I don't know where I worked, or what I did, but I took the bus there. Some little very nice girl worked with me, as well as Carson.
There was also something about me picking up a trombone like I was actually going to play with Guys with Ties...then I saw Erika coming up with hers and I was like 'What am I thinking? I can't play trombone.' and I put it down again. It was a really crappy trombone, and that's coming from somebody who doesn't play it.
And that's about all I remember. Anybody wanna try looking that up in the dream dictionary? I would, but I wouldn't even know what to look up...there doesn't exactly seem to be a common theme throughout that.
Oh, another note about middle name Ryley. He was always in the basement, and he liked the dark, so whenever I went there, I'd have to look around for him in the dark before I actually found him. And once I found him in a chair all curled up in a little ball, and I went over to him and just hugged him, and it was sweet, and he was cute. =)
Then Guys With Ties Ryley came over and interrupted us, and caused the awkward introduction. =P
"Brittany's drinking! That's just crazy and- I DON'T CARE!"
Well, not actually for me. Rather, this is me taking the things from Rae's list that I want to do with her. Then I can say I helped and supported her, and a lot of them (meaning all, really) would be a lot of fun.
Therefore, here are the things I want to do with Rae, sometime in the next 1001 days:
Go on a real hike, on a trail not marked 'easy', with trail mix and everything. For one month, do one hundred sit ups a day. (Mostly because I might actually do it if I were with her =P) Do the yoga routine every day for one month. Go swimming (at least twenty lengths) once a week for six months. Be goal weight (lose twenty pounds). (We can work towards it together!)
Attend an art show. Learn to knit and knit a scarf someone would actually wear. (I'll wear it!!) Make a piece of visual art (like a collage) for the dorm room. (Or just my room) Learn guitar. The opening lick to Seven Nation Army and the James Bond theme song do not count. (Been a dream of mine since the dawn of time itself.) Take a stained-glass course. (Much fun!) Type up my last three journals so I have a legible copy of them. (Partially just because I like typing...but it would also be interesting to go through them...we can have a typing party.)
Buy one pair of impractical underwear just to say I own it. (Because can you imagine that shopping trip? Can you say, 'fun!') Spend a whole day at a spa, no cellphone. Buy a 'To Write Love on Her Arms' t-shirt. (You can never have too many t-shirts)
Run a 10K race. Run 60% of the way. (We'll see each other through it) Jump off the 10m platform at a dive tank Own a fish. Keep it alive. (I wouldn't mind a fish) Buy a small bikini and wear it to the pool. Feel good about myself. (Well, maybe not the small part, but everything else, yes) Own two houseplants. Keep them alive. (Sorry, Rae, I already have 26, but I'll help you through it. Even better, I can give you said two houseplants...as long as you like spider plants) Take a ballroom dance class. Sign up without a partner. (We'll sign up separately) Eat at a restaurant and see a movie alone. (I know you said alone, but I want you to know I would do this with you, if said condition wasn't there) Put 10% of every paycheck into savings account. (Saving is always good)
Donate blood. (This summer, Rae!)
Read War and Peace (It's apparently good...)
Learn enough sign language to be able to have a conversation with my cousins. (Minus the cousin part, but I'd like to know sign language) Visit Montreal and Vieux-Quebec, speak only French. (Provided I have enough french for that, but I'd like to) Learn how to say 'love' and 'where is the bathroom?' in fifteen languages. (Three down, twelve to go!) (That's a good friend project.)
Go camping, in a tent, for at least two nights. Go parasailing. Swim with dolphins. Take a self-defense course. Go snorkeling. (Already done, it's so much fun.) Kayak at least once in a real lake. (Also, a lot of fun. Except I was in the ocean)
Watch all three LOTR Extended Editions in a row. (Again, summer project!) Frame at least ten pictures of friends for dorm room. (I need more pictures of my friends...pictures that don't require me to go on facebook to see them...)
If my counting is correct, that's 34 things that I'd like to do with Rae / help her do. 34 out of 101. That's like, one third of all her things.
That comment was random. I apologize.
Except it's my blog, so I don't.
Rae: did you take note of all those things that we could do over the summer before you leave? I hope so. =)
The only other options I had for my blog tonight was a rant about my uncle, or more conversations taken straight from my mind. I figured this option was probably both more interesting, and more sane than those two. Was I right?
"You mean I'm not supposed to be doing anything sexual over the internet? Damn. I suppose that means I have to break up with my five online relationships as well? Yeah, thought so..."
We're all where we usually are. All of us. And then it happened. They came in, wanting to prove a point. What that was, I never quite figured out. But they did. The threats, the weapons, it was all there.
They took him. Again they wanted to prove something. They used the line they've been using since the dawn of time - 'So unless anybody else has any better suggestions, we'll be going.'
And I stepped forward with my classic line - 'take me'.
So they took me away, and did what they wanted. Everything they wanted. Use your imagination.
And then they took me back. For no reason. That's just what they did.
And I was confused. I didn't feel the way I thought I should. I was scared, but that was only something in the back of my mind. I wasn't scarred, or feeling like my life was ending.
I spoke aloud, for no reason. Because I wanted them to know. I tried to figure it out. Finally I came to one conclusion.
'I'm happy. I'm happy because I know I made a difference now. And I'm happy because now you're still here, so I can tell you that you're one of the most amazing people I know, and I hope we never drift apart, because I love having you as a friend.'
Then I pulled myself out of my daydream, and wandered into my room to practice.
"Ah, my mistake. We'll kill it together, then. =)"
String players. Fred counts beats, not bars. That weird smile. The niceness of it all. Lime flavored salsa chips. Or lack thereof. Hotel rooms. Hormones and logic. Just a 'for now' boyfriend. Pianists. Sun burnt head. Mosquitoes. Lips gone raw. My uncle who won't get out of my house! On the verge of tears. On the verge of throwing something out of anger. Conversations in my head. The question of sanity. Needing a break. Needing to practice. Radio therapists. Learning to drive. Getting a job. Finding a life. Words. Words, words, words. Expensive wine. Expensive trips.
My apologies. I have so much going on in my head right now, my train of thought isn't even a little wobbly, or even weaving drastically. It's fricking transporting itself across the entire planet in the span of seconds. It's actually quite frightening.
So, in the course of this if I randomly come out with a statement, or even a few words, that make no sense (as in the list above) forgive me, it's just my mind jumping back and forth.
I promised I would give examples of what was going through my mind today during dress rehearsal, so here you go.
Dammit. I cannot let this get to me.
Anyways, my mind, dress rehearsal. Back on topic.
As a side note, you'll meet many sides of Robyn's mind during this. I've given them the most appropriate names I can think of. I hope they suffice.
Self: Bloch time. The one concerto I don't really mind. It's enjoyable to play. You ready Fred? I actually kind of need you for this one.
Fred: Am I ever not ready? Really?
Self: Yes. But nevermind that now.
Self: Okay, here it comes. Dramatic tempo change part. C'mon Fred.
Fred: I know, I always catch this one. 1 + 2 + 3...+......4........+...........1 + 2 +...
Self: Thank you.
(near the end)
Self: Oh crap, intense tuning. (C) okay, not bad... (C) again, not bad... (Db)
Inner Critic: Holy hannah! Dive, dive, you're way too sharp!
Second guesser: No, pull up! Pull up! This octave is way to close, it's barely an octave! Up!
Self: That was a beautiful glare from the conductor, wasn't it? Shall we attempt to tune that next time?
Everybody: Heck yes.
Fred: Way to go Robyn.
Self: Shut up Fred. Your job is to count, not tune.
Self: Oh the Beethoven. How joyous. Counting time. Wait for the quiet slow part to pass...alright, here we go. 1...2...3...4...5...(etc)...10...why is everybody getting ready...11...we don't play until after 15...12...oh right, strings come in first...13...14..15...
Inner Critic: Wow, this reed sounds lovely doesn't it. Especially when you have to play loud in order to hear yourself. Buzzy.
Self: Shut up, it'll last me for a little longer. 1...2...3...4...5...how far do we count again?...6...right, to 26...7...8...I wonder what I do after this...9...oh wonderful...10...another 61 bars of rest...11...something to look forward to...12...
Self: ...28...29...oh no, why is Alicia coming in?...30...right, she has her own solo without me...30...that's okay...31...does that mean I'm still in the right place?...32...if she still has 29 bars of rest...33...does that add up to 60?...34...I can't do math and count at the same time...35...I'll just trust that I am...
Self: I was definitely supposed to play an Ab, not a C. Let's not do that next time. Hm, there's James' dad taking pictures. I wonder if I sit up a little bit more if he can see me. Is he pointing the camera at me. Better look like I'm being all professional and what not. 43...44...45...what am I supposed to be counting to again?...46...ah, 15...47...wait, 15? How am I in the 40s if I'm only supposed to be going to 15? Fred?! Help!
Fred: Hey, don't look at me. I count beats, not bars
Self: Thanks for the help. Time to trust that I'll know when to come in.
Self: Alright, violin concerto. Last one, and I am out of here. And Timothy's playing it, and he's not a bad guy, as string players go.
(little voice): Yeah, he does seem really nice.
Self: It's true, he does.
(little voice): And that smile he has is pretty awesome too.
Self: Yes it...wait a minute. I know where this is going...
(little voice): I wonder if I should I have talked to him a little more this year.
Self: No! None of those thoughts! Stop trying to disguise yourself, Hormones, I know who you are now.
Stereotypical musician: A string player? Seriously? Excuse me, when did we decide we fell for string players?
Logic: Last summer.
Stereotypical musician: That one doesn't count.
Logic: Why not?
Stereotypical musician: ...he's American.
Stereotypical Canadian: And that makes it better...how?
Self: Everybody shut up! We're trying to deal with hormones here! We have a piece to rehearse and it's going to be extremely tough if hormones keep wanting to cut in!
Hormones: Well damn, Robyn, we're not getting anything anywhere else. Besides, look at him.
Self: No! No more looking! You stare at your music, Robyn! There will be no falling for anybody on the last concert of the season.
Logic: Yes indeed. Besides, university's coming after this summer. You'll have plenty to think about then.
Hormones: But that's so far away! And we definitely won't be getting any over the summer.
Logic: Well, summer will go by faster than you think. Just calm down. I thought we already decided that we don't need any of this, and we're fine on our own.
Hormones: Excuse me? Maybe for the rest of you, but I am my own category. I have nothing to do with being on our own.
Self: Alright everybody, quiet. We're starting. We'll address this issue later. And Hormones, no more speaking up in rehearsal.
Hormones: You know you like it.
Self: I said quiet! Fred, get over here and start working.
Fred: I am here. 1 + a 2 + a 3 + a...
Voice of reason: You know you've totally just realized that you have a crush on a violinist on the last day of orchestra?
Self: Shut up.
So that was my orchestra experience today. Sounds wonderful, doesn't it...
And if you're wondering, I don't make up these conversations afterwards. They do actually happen exactly like this, in the moment. Sometimes I wonder if that happens to anybody else, or if I'm the only one with various voices going on in my head...
That is, until I realize I don't care either way. =P
I think Julie and Rae probably know my various voices the best...
Just as a random comment. =P
Alright, I think my head is finally empty. At least, as empty as its ever going to get.
I always get an idea of a list to make. It can be any kind of list. And I usually don't end up going through with it. Either life takes me away, or I figure it's not worth it, or something else distracts me of it.
I wonder if it'll be the same this time.
For now, I must get off the computer. My brother has a friend over, and he's sleeping in the living room.
Dear Mom and Dad:
I won't say anything, because I know I'm staying at home for university, and you're paying for that, and for probably a lot of other things I'll need over the next few years.
*looks pointedly at TV screen advertising laptops*
Not that I want to be the ungrateful child. Believe me.
I love watching Ryley walk on a stage to perform like that's what he was born to do.
I loved watching that hula hoop dance, and actually being able to see how much she loved doing that on her face as the music kicked up.
I loved seeing my dog's eyes light up when we got to the pond and I picked up a stick.
For anybody who hasn't had the chance to see an animal's eyes light up...I pity you. It's definitely something worth experiencing.
I love talking to my dog. Not because he think he actually listens or understands. Scratch that. I know he listens.
Holy crap. This is the first time I've realized something in the middle of writing a blog. Go me.
That is the reason I like talking to him. Is because he listens. Not to the words, or the emotions that come with them. He just listens to my voice.
Now that I know what I'm talking about, I suddenly don't know how to express it.
When we're at home, and he's laying on the floor, I'll say his name and he'll look up at me. When he's on my bed, and I tell him to move, he'll get off, but when I just tell him to scoot over, that's exactly what he'll do. When he's in the middle of drinking, I'll talk to him, and he'll wag his tail. When I call him on walks, he'll come to me. When I tell him to wait at a road, he won't cross until I tell him. He never runs over to other dogs until I say he can go say hi.
He trusts me. Where I go, he'll follow. When we're wrestling and he accidentally nips me, I'll exclaim, and he'll immediately get all quiet and lay on the floor, and most often nudge me with his nose.
I'm getting off topic. I just love him so much.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that when I talk, he listens to my voice. And I know he does. By everything that I can't even explain to somebody who hasn't lived with him for 7 years.
Remember when I said that I had just realized something while blogging? Maybe I did up there...but now I've lost it.
I love thunder, but it scares him. I just heard him jump onto my bed as that last roll of thunder came around. =)
I'm trying to remember exactly what I figured out, but it's not coming. Something about him listening...something something...never judging...something something...never thinking about what I say at all, just being happy that I'm there...
That's definitely a big part of it. He doesn't care what stupid decisions I made that day, or who I upset, or whether I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing with my life. He's just always happy to see me, and happy when I give him attention, and come home at the end of the day and let him up on my bed for the night. Even when I'm in a horrible mood, and take it out on him, and yell and send him downstairs. Whether it's in the next three hours, or the next two seconds, when I eventually call him back up, he's not mad at me for doing that. He doesn't sulk because I was mean, or hold it against me, or anything. He's just happy that I'm happy again.
I keep trying to explain what I feel when I talk to him, but I just can't. I get flashes of the feeling, and when I try to write it down, it's gone.
I love him. A lot.
I think people need to be a lot more like dogs.
I also love it when I'm walking by myself and I'm really happy, and I can't help but smile, or laugh. I don't care what people around me may think. Why should you bottle up such a great feeling?
Speaking of which, there are moments like that. When I'm in a class, or rehearsal, and suddenly all my good feelings inside of me just seem to expand, and I have the sudden urge to just laugh and let them all out so I can enjoy life.
But that's never the right time. So I always have to take a deep breath in, to expand my chest and make more room for all that joy, and just hold it for a while before slowly exhaling.
Those are good times.
The world needs less pessimism. I can't stand it.
"And we watched the whole thing from a safe and secure environment."
Has it ever occurred to anybody that sometimes it's not always the 'why?' that matters, but more 'why not?'
So, every time somebody tried to talk about my hair, and how weird it must be without it, I always attempt to brush them off and make it seem like it's not a big deal.
Because it's not.
Here's why in more detail.
The biggest thing you have to understand is that I've been thinking about this for a year and a half. I didn't show up to school, hear about it, and go, well, maybe I'll do that. No no. This used to be a big deal for me, and I took a while to actually decide to go for it, as previously explained.
So first of all, it's not that weird because I was thinking about it for that long, and actually in a way looking forward to not having to deal with it. When you anticipate something for that long, you don't exactly spend a great deal of time thinking about how weird it is when it actually happens.
Also previously explained is how scared I was that I'd be somebody else once my hair was gone. That I'd be thought of less, or thought if differently. And so on and so forth, I'm pretty sure I talked about that.
See, the thing is, I'm not different. I realized that the second I stood up from my chair when they finished cutting it all off. I am exactly the same person. I don't feel...anything. I'm me. I was me with hair, and I'm still me now that it's gone.
I actually cannot believe it's only been a week since I got it all off. It feels like it's been so much longer, simply because as a person, I'm still the same.
So the main reason I shrug off conversations about how weird it must be without my hair, is because I don't find it weird at all. Yeah, I still find some old habits coming back, like because I put in my contacts I still flip my head to the side as if I still have hair to get out of my eyes. But that's pretty much it.
Yes, I realize I made a big deal out of it before. Because I was seriously worried that I would change a lot, or at least in the eyes of others. But I didn't. And as soon as I realized that, it suddenly didn't seem like such a big deal anymore. Yeah, my hair's gone. It's not like it's a limb.
And yes, I know it's ironic that when I was freaking out before, people would be like 'it's only hair' and I'd secretly hate them for saying it, because it was more than 'only hair' to me. And now here I am, more or less saying, it was only hair.
So there you go. All that isn't to say I hate it when people talk about my hair (or lack thereof) in general. I don't mind that at all. It's just when people start going into the whole 'it must be so weird, you must be so light headed...' etc, etc. Whatever.
And if anybody was wondering, the story I wrote in my last post has a song based on it. I played it at summer camp. It's really sad. I was listening to it that morning, and had a sudden urge to tell its story.
"I was wondering how I should let you know that I want to know exactly what happened. Then I figured, 'bluntly!'"
Young Molly Bawn had a lover. She loved him with all her heart, and he loved her just as much. They lived a little house of their own by the forest.
He had to go hunting. With a kiss goodbye, he headed out into the forest with his gun to hunt.
Young Molly couldn't bear to be parted with him. She had begged him to let her go with him, but he had denied, saying he'd be back before she knew it.
After sitting at home for a little while, she finally had to go after him. Smiling at the thought of being with him again, she swiftly ran into the forest after him, her skirts flying around her legs.
He's creeping among the trees, waiting for the deer. He freezes as he hears their feet. It sounds like only one deer, and it is running. He quickly hides behind a tree, waiting for it to pass him so he might get a shot at it.
Young Molly slows as the trees grow thicker. She knows he'll be hiding, and so she begins to wander quietly through the trees, peering around each one.
He frowns as the sound of the deer softens. He listens for a few moments, before realizing that the deer has merely slowed. It sounds like it's getting closer. He grips his gun, and risks a peek around the tree.
Molly freezes as she hears a noise. Maybe it's him. She looks around, trying to determine where the sound came from.
He sees a shadow among the trees, but it stops as soon as he moves. It must have heard him. It's now or never. He points his gun and shoots. It falls to the ground. He rises, and walks to it, happy that his hunt has been quick and successful. As he approaches the fallen figure and looks into its eyes, he falls to his knees with a cry.
He is hung the next morning for the murder of Young Molly Bawn.
Sometimes I feel like Polonius trying to keep up with Hamlet.
"Yeah, my sister's into music." "Oh, punk rock?" "No...classical."
So awesomely, that I don't even feel like going into detail on all the reasons I feel awesome.
I probably will eventually. But for now I'd just like to keep them to myself. I feel like I've been expressing a lot of myself lately, and for now I'd just like to keep this to me. Not for any self-conscious reasons. Just because I feel like it.
Adam was kind of right.
And on another topic, I really wish Kelsk didn't have to go on tour. I'm sure she'll have a blast, despite the lack of sleep (who actually sleeps on music trips anyways?), but still...it always seems like she leaves just before something happens of which I have to talk to her about. =P
"It's 'Come as you are' day! No doing hair, makeup, and wearing whatever makes you feel good!" "But...you already never do your hair...you never wear makeup...and you always wear whatever makes you feel good...so isn't that just like any other day?" "Yeah...but this time it has a name!"
So, it's supposed to happen tomorrow. Remember when I explained the whole head shaving thing, and why it was good for me, and how I came to that decision, and how I have to go through with it now that I'm this far in?
I was wrong!! All wrong!
I can't do it! My hair is me. All me! It's all I have, other than the bracelets, and nobody even cares about those.
Aahh! Mark was walking down the hallway and he tugged my hair for a while because he said he'd never be able to do it again after tomorrow. For the past couple days, a lot of people have been playing with my hair.
They won't be able to do that after tomorrow! Tomorrow! What am I going to do? My hair is the only reason I ever get attention.
Yes, I'll admit it, I love attention. And my hair gets that for me.
Right now I'm Robyn-with-long-hair-in-braids-that's-so-lovable-and-cute. When all my hair's gone I'll barely even be Robyn, nevertheless cute and lovable!
My hair got me all my attention and recognition while I was in NYB. What would I have been without my hair? Just some dork with a bassoon!
Blah. I need to keep convincing myself that my appearance does not equal my identity. Or personality. Or myself as a person whatsoever.
When I think of Kelskie, I don't think blond hair and blue jeans. I think of how we've known each other for so long, how she can tell something's wrong even over msn, and how I can tell her anything and I know she won't judge me or tell anybody else.
When I think of any of my friends, I don't think of their appearance. When I think of Randall, I think of how she'll always help me when I'm stressing out, and how I can always talk to her.
The list goes on and on. I never think less of any of my friends based on their appearance. Heck, I hardly notice their appearance half the time. Honestly, who actually looked decent in their gown at grad? Nobody really looks good in gowns, they weren't meant to look good on people. I hardly noticed.
Do haircuts ever really make a big difference for me? No. I notice them the first day, think, cool, that's different, and then it just goes on.
Then why can't I help but think my status will go down once my hair's gone?
Of course I'm going to go through with it. I'm not backing out now. But as it gets closer, I do get more scared of it. Which is foolish, I know, you don't need to remind me.
Maybe if I just concentrate on things I have to get done, I won't even remember I'm doing it until tomorrow, when I'm there.
File, download, open.
"I don't like you! I don't like either of you. I haven't liked her for years now."
Those are pretty much the feelings that are brought out by the percussion concerto that was performed with the CPO on Friday and Saturday. Especially with the horns. I realized at one point that I just wanted to raise my arms and just swim in the glory and wonderfulness all around me...and at the same time, I had the strange sense that an infinite number of knives were all driving into me at the same time.
I have to read the program about that piece again. I vaguely remember a slight bit of what it's based one, and I think that could possibly be the feelings that the music is supposed to bring out...somewhat, anyways.
I didn't have time to shower tonight. Especially with both my uncle and brother insisting on showering. I just hope that my hair isn't too visibly greasy, and that I don't smell like smoke in the morning.
I remember having a lot of things to write on here, but that was on Saturday. The pie party today was fun. I like hosting parties. Especially when I actually have more party food / drinks, which I didn't really today, but I made it work. I should throw parties more often.
Or at least get-togethers, if party is too of a hardcore term. =P
Bed now. I have to get up early to take the bus with all my crap tomorrow. Maybe I won't bring my music bag...I don't really need it, unless I want to practice, but when's the last time that I've practiced at school? Besides, I have things I have to do in the library anyways. And if I do practice, I can work on scales which I desperately need to do.
Sigh. Or english. That also desperately needs to get done. Almost more so than bassoon.
I'm also convincing myself that my appearance is not the same thing as my identity. Sometimes I know that, but more often than not I have to firmly convince myself that people do actually identify me by who I am more so than what I look like. I know that appearance definitely isn't the first thing I think of when I think of my friends. Why am I still convinced that it's the only thing they think of when they think of me?
Music's the only thing that makes sense in this world.
I like comparing life to music, or a road.
I like using analogies to explain things that can't be explained.
I feel like I constantly change, but I'm still not changing fast enough to keep up with the world.
I'm afraid of large crowds.
I'm afraid of complete solitude.
I'm full of contradictions.
I like to imagine that I can think on a deeper level than I actually do.
Sometimes I want to run away.
Comments encourage me to post.
I'm afraid of being just another face in a crowd.
I'm not sure whether complete silence would be calming or frightening.
I love having heart-to-heart talks with people.
Nicknames make my life complete.
If you ask me how I am, and I say I'm alright, chances are I'm not alright.
I like things that smell nice.
I hate being late.
I hate being stressed.
Being late makes me stressed.
I don't like getting dressed up and being really girly because it just takes time. It also makes the few time that I do be really girly even more special.
I get jealous really easily.
I'm a hopeless romantic.
I like dark and scary books about murder, suicide, rape, and psychics.
I like using songs to describe my life. I like artistic pictures, mostly because I'm no good at taking them myself. I believe reality isn't as realistic as we believe. I'm afraid of politics. I apologize a lot. I like having discussions, but not arguments or debates. I generally get depressed during New Years because I don't believe in new beginnings. The most fascinating thing about going on transit is how nobody else knows anything about you, and vice verso. I've learned that I will never be as smart as I think I am.