Starting Again: A true underdog story.

So. About two days ago I had this very strange desire to start keeping a blog again (I'm pretty sure that desire came from finding this gem of a site bumbumbumbum. She posts the most inspirational photos and designs). I've had this blog since '08 and I've barely managed to write 16 posts. So, in light of my new dedication, I've spent the past few hours revamping this good ol' blog. I'm still unsure as to what it should be called, so I just went with the usual-thecolormaria. This may change soonish, we shall see. Either way I'm excited to start putting words to my thoughts, ideas, and inspirations through a medium that I'm able to share with anyone who is willing to listen, er I mean read.
Wow, if that wasn't a killer kick off, I don't know what would be. Wah Wah Wah.

Attachment Issues.

I'm doing this thing now days that has me quite pleased with myself. I've finally started to read again. Yes, hold your applause ladies and gentleman. But there seems to be a downside to this new great habit. One that has opened my eyes as to why I stopped reading in the first place.

I do this thing where I get really into what I'm reading, well assuming it's a good book worth reading, so by the time I'm done reading I'm waaaay too attached to the characters and story line. Way more attached any anyone should be, at least. this causes me to go through a mandatory grieving period, the extent of which is determined by the attachment formed while reading. For example, some books I've read only take a day to get over but others, which I shall not mention for I am ashamed, have taken much longer than that, weeks to months.

I just finished Graceling today. Sigh. And yes, the grieving period has begun.

P.S. I may or may not start updating this regularly. You'll find out soon enough, whoever you are.

therapy for the soul, torture for the mind.

i tried to ignore the fact that i had a blog for the past few months. secretly though, it's been nawing at me for neglecting it. and for that i apologise dear rants and rants and rants for candy.
today has been a very clear self pity day, which is sad because that seems to be the only times i feel like "blogging". i'm pretty sure this building of self loathing started today around 4:35 when i entered staduim 8 with full intentions to watch and enjoy my sister's keeper. there is no way i could have prepared myself for the predictable 20 minute tear jerkers, nay the tear demanders that film produced. being the stone heart i am, i earnestly tried to ignore all of the demanders but it was really really really hard and strenuous. i found myself basically exhausted at 6:30 when the film was over.
that need for a good hard cry has not let up in the six hours after that show. it's now about 12:30 and despite my truest efforts, i am still fighting against the grain to keep my face dry.

for the first time in my life i am praying for bad dreams to drain this need from me.

friday night syndrom

It’s 1:30 on a Friday night. For the third day in a row I’ve gotten myself all dolled up only to wash off the makeup and throw the clothes in the hamper after never even leaving the house. I’m sitting in my green circle chair. I know it’s name isn’t really circle chair, but I’ve never been able to remember the foreign word that’s it’s actually called. the cotton of the seat has worn through from these past 6 months and I can feel the bent bamboo sticks beneath me. I have to shift every four minutes just to say comfortable. Nothing interests me as I sift through colourful web pages but I can’t shut it off. I settle with youtube. There’s a strange sense of presence that comes from this waste of time and space. Although those people have no idea who I am, I know who they are. I get to know them. They’re my only social escape. I play a 4:35 minute vlog as I get ready for bed, listening to Nerimon’s day about taking his girlfriend back to the airport. She lives in America, he lives in London. what I wouldn’t give to have what they have.

Am I a pessimist? No. I’m a keeper of facts, Only knowing what I’ve observed. And I act solely on just that. He’s put other things before you countless times, he’ll do it again. he lies to you to get what he wants, he’s not going to stop now. Honestly, he doesn’t care about you. Actions speak louder than words my friend.

with a subtle look.

On a bench in the park, she sits. Horrible posture. Her back arched.
It's morning and the birds are singing. Her smile is fresh. A natural feeling.
Bread in hand, she's the most popular stand. The birds come, sit and coo.
As she feeds them, she names them. Each and every one she knew.
It's mid day now, and still she sits. Back stiff and heated.
Bread box lighter. The birds get restless. Not one stays seated.
She's humming now; she thinks it sweet. The birds are dancing, in the heat.
The heat goes down. Sunset so pretty. Cars are leaving her an empty street.
Her feed gone, the birds leave too. Desperate to stop them. She calls; She coos.
They can't understand nor do they care. She slumps down further. Alone again.
The air is empty. The sun color gone. She tears up to mourn the lost.
In the dark her humming stops. The moon has made her pale.
Don't forget me. Please don't forget me; Is all that's heard as she laid down, and exhaled.

i just want to be happy.

i don't get it. what is it that makes us crave the attention of our peers? we'll even put up with ones we don't care for, just so we have someone. is being alone really that bad? why is it that ostricisim can drive otherwise perfectly normal people to suicide?
does it really matter?
are these fake relationships really important?
well apparently so.
these past few months have proven my point.

i think i'm growing up.

My heart hurts today. Bad. And it's not from anything I've done, or anything that was done to me. I hurt for what other people are doing to each other. I hurt for the old man I saw at my work today. He was wandering down the hall, hunched over, head twitching from his tremor, white hair in his eyes, pale. Thin. Frail. He kind of half smiled at me and I did my best to smile in return. It was hard to smile back though, because his efforts to smile at me just made me hurt worse.
I was at college today working on stupid CIS. Usually that puts me in an angry mood so anything even remotely tied to sympathy has no place in the front of my mind, but today I guess it was different. I was looking around at people, which I have a tendency to do out of curiosity and procrastination. And I just started hurting again. Everyone I saw looked like they were at the end of their ropes. There was a young mother there. She had a newborn and a toddler with her. The new born was not excited about being there; I knew this because I could hear the baby screaming through my already loud music. I wanted to go help her. Her face looked so worn and tired, and her little girl looked like she just wanted a single hug from her mother. I was so tempted to go up and ask her if she needed help but she left suddenly. She had only been there five minutes.
I was watching a popular tv show yesterday. It's usually one of my favourites, in my top five at least. But I was having a hard time getting into it. The main character has a social awkwardness about him that he's not aware of and the way he treats other people is only acceptable because it's a tv show, it's not real. But I guess I forgot about that invincible tv show rule because everything he did to everyone just made me hurt worse. There was a look on this woman's face the whole half an hour that was ripping at my heart. I finally changed the channel.
I've been thinking a lot lately about people. Why do we only accept the few that we do? What makes us "hate" someone we don't know? Why do we have cliques? Why are there certain people designated to be left behind? Why do we hate?
I'm not going to lie, I've done my share of laughing, excluding, making fun of, and poking fun but it's been a while. I mean, I've been out of sixth grade for... what… seven years now? I just really don't understand. I'm finding that out more and more lately. There is too much in this world that I don't understand. It's like I'm realizing this all at once and believe me, it's a tough pill to swallow. I find myself thinking more these past months than I have in my entire life. I never knew thoughts produced so many tears, but mine seem to.
Although I am one of the most pro-personal space people out there, I find myself fighting the urge to the lonely, picked on ones I see at the college everyday. Maybe it's because I'm finding out more and more of what I have in common with them. Maybe I'm trying to prepare myself for what seems like the inevitable. Whatever it is I can't say I hate it. This new empathy I'm experiencing is, believe it or not, a good thing. I just wish it all wouldn't hit me so fast. As hard as I try, I can't cry for everyone at once.