Theme Week 4: True or False?
1.
Driving on the interstate for hours can make you a little uptight. I remember on the way to Cape Cod, Josh seemed to irritate me a little more than usual. I know how to drive on the interstate, but It's also pretty easy to get lost when you've forgotten where to go.
He looks out the window in slight awe of all the things he's never seen before. I love that about him, his innocense, I wish bottle it up and where it on a chain; it's almost like watching your child grow, seeing him get excited over something you grew up knowing.
We reached Hyannis at some time between 11am and noon. The sun was shining brightly and the weather was perfect, warm, yet not too hot, and the sky was a brilliant robin's egg blue.
I paid quite a bit for the hotel room we stayed in, I thought it would be quite nice. I thought wrong. It was horrible. They didn't even have shampoo!!! What kind of hotel doesn't have little shampoo bottles?! It was a waste of 76 bucks.
All in all, the concert was phenominal. Collective soul will always be one of my favourite bands. I think Joshua enjoyed his birthday gift, however, he was still a snooty, stressed out Joshua.
2.
Whizzing pass me on I-95 South, was car after car after truck after truck, as I actually decided to go 65 for an hour or two instead of 90 mph, like everyone else. What kind of person am I to go the speed limit on the interstate anyway?
I stayed comfortable, slouching forward slightly as the sun shone behind me in the windshield and on the pavement, and turning up "You make my dreams come true" by The Cars, so it blared unpleasantly in my boyfriend's ears. It seemed he didn't mind too much; he was too excited and absorbed in his surroundings to care.
It was August 31st, of this year, 2006. We were on our way to none other than Cape Cod to watch one of the greatest bands of the early and late 90s, Colective Soul, strut their stuff on the rotating stage of the Melody Tent in Hyannis. The tickets were a bit pricey, but we had the best ones in the house. This was his birthday gift. He was turning 20.
As the music blared in my ears, Josh continued to announce random things, as he always does, even though I can see them right before my eyes, he has this annoying habit of pointing everything out as loudly and obnoxiously as he can. I love him, but he's sometimes a bit obvious.
He reminds me of a child, his long curly hair is soft, and his butt resembles the Huggies' baby. He's innocent. That's what it is, really. Living here in one place, under one roof, in one school, in one town, I think leaves him a bit sheltered. I was almost astonished when he told me he'd never left the state.
All my life I've moved around, the highways were not unfamiliar to me. State to state, I grew tired of billboards and big signs and roadside attractions. It was all another reason for me to wish I had a home. But Joshua, being who he is, loved seeing the new things and different people.
Now, don't get me wrong, I love new things and new people, but these things weren't as new to me as they were to him.
Pulling off in the final hour was such a relief. We hit route 6 to Cape Cod and I though I was coming close to sheer exhaustion. I hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, and driving this long had me a bit weary.
We got lost a few times trying to find the motel, which, by the way, was a complete rip off. There was no shampoo, the tiniest bath towels in the world, and the blankets smelled strangely like body odor. What kind of hotel doesn't give you little shampoo bottles? There wasn't even a hairdryer, or a bible in the nighttable. There's ALWAYS a bible in the nighttable! So much for my Orbitz.com deal. The building was supposedly newly renovated, but the towel racks in the bathroom looked to be held up by some strange paste, which closely resembled peanut butter and polydent.
We nearly collapsed into the bed to take a nap before the concert at 8pm. We arrived some time between 1-2pm. We set the alarm for 4:30 and basically conked out right under the covers.
I woke up without the alarm clock for once, and instantly was ready to get up and eat something, perhaps take a shower and gussy myself up for the concert. We had 2 1/2 hours until we would leave.
We arrived around 6:45, all ready to get in our seats and wait fot an hour, unfortunately, we had to wait a little longer than expected. We weren't allowed in until 7:30.
We casually conversed with a few of the ushers, made fun of a few people (whom we later realized were part of the set-up crew), and walked around the tent in circles as it got closer and closer to 7:30.
They let us in right on schedule, and we sat down, eager to see the faces of Collective Soul. The opening band was this years' winner of the American Unsigned Bands Award or something like that. They were actually really good. I don't remember the name of the band. I think it began with an 'E' though.
Whe Collective Soul hit the stage, there was an uproar of applause and beer was flying in the air. Everyone was boozing it except for the two of us. There was a lot of beer on the floor. The band kicked in with a song from their newest album, and played a great show. Ed Roland (the lead singer) was a cocky bastard. you could tell he thought he was the shit. I suppose He was entitled to his behavior after 13 years of rockstardom. He did all sorts of crazy stuff with his microphone, and danced like a madman as he belted out notes and lyrics.
I think Josh was in some state of paralysis the whole time. I could tell he was really excited, but all he could do was stand there and refuse to jump in with the energy of the crowd. I later understood that he felt no need to do so.
After the show, we lingered, searched the ground for a lost guitar pick, and got sent outside eventually. We mosied along the pavement, and by this time it was about half past midnight. Deciding that we might possibly have a chance for autographs, the both of us waited (about two hours) for a few of the band members to come out. By 2 am, two out of the five of them had come out and we got a few autographs and pictures. The other three were inside watching tennis with girls on their laps.
This was the first time ever that Collective Soul had come to Cape Cod. I was royally pissed that the other three didn't come out for autographs. It was low.
Joshua and I headed back to the motel and cleaned up, ate a poptart or two, and then hit the sack. For the first real concert the both of us had been to, it was a pretty good time.
3.
"I'm gonna smack you in the head if you don't shut the hell up!" Joshua was really starting to get on my nerves. We'd been driving 75 on I-95 and his wild antics were driving me crazy. Getting more and more frustrated with his obnoxious comments, I blasted the stereo as loud as I could to drown out his obsessive need to point out every billboard we came across.
We were on out way to Cape Cod. I'm taking Josh to his first concert, for his 20th birthday, but I'm slowly starting to regret it. The tickets and motel costs were friggin' expensive as hell, and he's acting like a jerk about helping out a little. I payed for everything, the least he could have done was help pay for gas and food.
When we arrived at the motel, the clerk there was ridiculous. I asked for shampoo, and all he could do way shrug and say, with his think eastern accent, "I'm sorry but we give it to people who pay lot of money for weekend". I thought I was going to strangle the bastard. Now I had to add toiletries and food onto the list of expenses. Tihs trip was really pissing me off.
We walked into our room, and a sickening stench invaded our nostrils. Housekeeping didn't even bother to change the blankets before we left. I could smell businessman all over the place, and it wasn't pleasant. The bathroom was absolutle disgusting, a dirty looking place. The only thing that looked somewhat clean was the stained white towels hanging on the racks. All the sat in the shower was a mcroscopic bar of soap that smelled like old expired cologne.
I didn't even care, because I was so exhausted. Josh and I just fell asleep amongst all the jerms and smells. We woke up and got to the concert a little early.
Iwasn't allowed to bring my camera in, which I was a little miffed about. What pissed me off more was that people snuck their cellphones in and took pictures the whole time with their stupid cameraphones. A few people actuially stuffed their cameras down their pants and got a few flashes in.
There were drunks everywhere. I was expecting it to be a really great experience, but the whole crowd was made up of sweating, balding, and out of style tourists, mixed in with a few beer-caked locals. I paid a shitload of money for this? Popcorn kernals were stuck to the floor and my sneakers, and I was getting nauseated because the man beside me lifted his arms and killed a few flies. I don't think anyone in the place was wearing deodarant.
The show was great though, I managed to enjoy it despite my surroundings. Joshua was having a jolly old time, jumping around with the crowd, really getting hiped over the music. I felt like sulking at some points.
The lead singer of the band was kind of a combination between gene simmons and david bowie. He was a cocky bastard with bleach blond hair and chose his microphone as a dance partner.
After the show, I was just ready to leave. We got some atugraphs and headed back to the hotel, and by that time it was 2 o'clock in the damn morning. I hit the hay and was out like a light. I don't think I'll be doing it again for a while.
Theme Week 3: Setting The Scene
I don't understand what's happening to me."Mom, I'm not happy."
As she lifts my arm to view, she smirks. "I can see that."
I fumble with my shirtsleeves, I don't really know what to say. The red glow from the coffee pot is blinding me, it's 11:42 p.m.
"Kasey, you need to stop this. You're not letting yourself be happy."
The green floor tiles are splashed with pale blue, they match my chipped fingernail polish. I don't even know why I put it on. It always flakes off.
"Do you think I'm crazy, mom?" I don't look at her. I don't dare. It's hard sometimes, wishing she could see the pain, but not wanting to see her see it. I'm afraid to see people as they sense my emotions. It's as if I'm poison to both.
Taking on an almost chastizing tone, she says, "Kasey, stop this. You're not crazy. You are only 15, and the world is not ending no matter how much you think it is."
She'll never understand. I don't think the world is ending. I'm just getting ready to end my own.
What's the point of sitting in for life when all you can see is the cage around yourself? I feel like I'm in a box. If I step out, I'm a freak, but if I stay in, I'm... still a freak. Can I stay in the cardboard? That's an in-between. Maybe it'll balance it out.
"I don't know what to tell you, Kase. I'm not good with this affection stuff. I just can't do it. Do you think you should see a psychiatrist?" Sure, mom. I'll let them poke and prod my brain. Maybe they can figure out why I don't know how to feel properly. I'm a drama queen remember? Just give me some drugs.
"I don't want to be on drugs, mom. I'm not a labrat." Complete hypocrite, I am. I want drugs, but I don't want to know that I'm taking them. Isn't that ironic? I'm a walking contradiction. I want what I don't want because I want it. Yeah, I'm definately crazy. But does a crazy person have these analytical thoughts? I'm sure that if I really was crazy, I wouldn't be thinking this rationally.
Mom is silent. She thinks I'm over-doing it. Fuck you. I don't want to look at you.
"Let's go see a shrink, then." I decided that I should try it.
-----
"Why are you letting him have control over your life, Kasey?"
Stupid fucking psycho-babble. Psychiatrists don't really know anything. They only think they do. I'm not letting anyone control my goddamn life. I am afraid of fear and afraid of pain, I'm not afraid of him. He just manifests that.
I'm going to join the scientology group. They're much more interesting.
---
"We can't go see your psychiatrist anymore, Kase."
I think to myself,
he's a moron anyway. It's only been two visits and he thinks I'm showing seizure activity because I'm angry a lot. "Why not?" I pretend to be alarmed.
"He's been accused of child-molestation. He's lost his license to practice." She doesn't really seemed bother by that. My jewish psychiatrist, a child-molestor? He doesn't seem like the type.
"Well, it saves you some money. I don't need therapy anyway. I'll just keep writing." She looks up at that statement.
"Are you feeling better?"
I pause for a moment. "For now, mom. When I feel like slitting my wrists again, I'll let you know, so you'll be prepared to finance my funeral."
Oh yeah, Kasey, You're definately crazy.
Theme Week 2: Witnessing History
It's 11:00 p.m, and I'm watching Jay Leno attempt to have a conversation with Bob Dole. What the hell is he talking about?! I'm only 11. :click:
New house, green rugs, only one room, a studio apartment. I sleep on the couch everynight. Mom and I are staring at the blue election polls on MSNBC. Bill Clinton is winning by a long shot. Mom is cheering, I'm simply smiling at her excitement. Papa works for him. He worked for Reagan too. :click:
New apartment, same building, same green rug, plaster walls, same t.v, except now I have a bed. Bill's getting impeached, for lying about his sexual relations. I think: "
that's what happens to men when they think with their dick." :click:
Another T.V., smaller, older, but different. Same apartment. It's dark. I'm wearing a party hat. The world is supposed to end tonight. Everyone is going crazy. Y2K Y2K! Mass chaos! Grammy and Grampy are on the couch counting down. I'm right in front of the tube. The ball drops. Nothing happens. :click:
I'm in D.C. It's election 2000 and I'm standing on the streets, rallying against The Bush/Cheney party. Papa is sick, but he takes us out anyway. There's quite a bit of chanting going on. They're yelling "Gore's a whore!". I forget what I was yelling, it was a much more sophisticated insult. The fucker won the election anyway. I hate republicanism. :click:
New Home. We live in a house now, a duplex. I'm at school. Tiff and I still have to share a room, though. My side is much more interesting. I'm sitting in my World History class, it's freshmen year. We're all sitting calmly at the desks watching the news. Plane # 1 went through the world trade center. I don't know how to think, I just know it's big. As I walk through the front door, my mother is crying as she watches it hit, over and over. Mom never cries. :click:
It's been only a few days after the terrorist attacks, and we're going through airport security. It's my first time on a plane. I'm terrified. I forgot to take the U-lock for my bike out of my back-pack, and they wouldn't let me get on the plane until I gave it to them. They mailed it home eventually. What in the world could I do to someone with a bike lock? We're on our way to see Papa. He has AIDS
and skin cancer. I don't know If I want to see him. :click:
I'm back in D.C, papa is dying. We're listening to the planes circle Washington, protecting the home base of our government, they're right above our heads. There are talks of war and military defense. I think, "W
e had it coming. This is the result of America trying to police the world. We shouldn't stick our noses in other cultures' business" . Papa puts on another Morphine patch. :click:
Papa manages to live through his 50th birthday, but now he's gone. Diana Krall couldn't wait another day. Her cd came in his mailbox the day after his death. We played it after the funeral and celebrated his accomplishments. Madeline Albright made quite a speech. We made quite a many aquaintance with government officials and famous people. Half of him is on my aunt Jamie's mantle, while the other half is on my mom's. They had to split him up into several urns to make everyone happy. I wish they'd spread the ashes. :click:
Bush gets re-elected. I vote Nader. Fuck John Kerry, they're both morons. Why are people so afraid of change? It didn't help gas prices much, now did it? :click:
This is war.:click:
Theme Week 1: A Journal of Sorts
Well, Goldfine, seeing how I've been disgustingly confused on how to start off this course, trying to also balance that confusion with my daily events, I am just starting my journal now, and I think It should be a weekly thing anyway so, here goes.
One can never completely know themselves, a person is like a constant neverending story, a string that never stops pulling, road that never stops winding, well, until you die anyway. But what am I saying? I don't even believe in death!
I've learned a thing or two over the summer, one being that I love my family even though at times I feel like shooting them all, listening to their nonsense whining and constant bickering and unneccessary arguments... Not to mention my grandmothers constant attention-getting antics, they work only because we know she'll be even worse if we ignore them. I helped her take care of her dogs a lot this summer, they had cancer, and they died. Two big rotties, only lived to be 7 years old. It's a shame, really. I didn't have much of an attachment to
her baby (Brandy), who was the female, but I did love Hendrix, the male. He was a junkyard dog for a little while before they took him in, and it took him up until his last days to decide that he didn't want to eat Josh for supper. I cried when he was put down, but really, the only thing I could do when I watched the life drain from his eyes, was smile. Is that sick? Disturbing? I just couldn't stop smiling. He died a happy dog. I smiled I guess, because I saw the pain melt from his face and when he went, he had such a big, happy grin, that said "don't worry, I'm ok, I love you", and off he went over the rainbow bridge to be with everyone else who has crossed over. I imagine at some point he'll start again in another puppy, but, I'll never know, but I have faith in it.
Sometimes I think it's better to be alone. I don't mean without Joshua, I mean without family. It seems so much more stressful, and for some, it's worth it, but for me, sometimes it's really now. My so-called aunt "in-law" called me a bitch for eating her pizza that was in the fridge for two days. (Ooookkay...). It doesn't really matter to me, she's an anorexic fuckhead anyway. She's absolutely retarded and makes me feel like a beached whale sometimes. I have no sympathy for anorexic people. NONE. they're psychotic in the worst way.
On other notes, Tiff (the mid-kid sis) is off to college and I don't have to worry too much about my things getting stolen by her anymore, I can actually keep things in my mom's house instead of padlocked in the safe at my grandmother's. Morganne (the littlest) is off to second grade. I'm so proud of her, she's so smart. She's in 3rd and 4th grade level reading and everything while her class is on sped and regular-level. She says she wants to be a scientist. She wants to make "salt jelly". She really likes salt. She puts massive quantities of it on everything. Well, at least until my mom snatches the shaker away and forbids herf rom any more. She hates limitations, but we don't want her with hypertension at age 10.
This week has been somewhat stressful. I am glad to be back in school, though. The very first day of classes I had a major headache, It hurts when your brain gets up and running again. I spent 500 BUCKS ON BOOKS! There should be a law against that. I think we shouldn't have to pay for them anyway, I think the government should. But the government would rather pay for 3000 unneeded laptops for every student in guilford to bust up and abuse. Stupid. I think they shouldn't have them unless they prove responsible. I had mine for 3 years and not ONCE did it break. The only thing that happened, was a little punk asshole stole my gharger (which the goddamn school held m diploma for until I could give them 60 dollars for the damn thing which
I didn't even lose. I even had insurance on the thing so if that did happen, I wouldn't be held accountable. Stupid school.) Anyway... I have a ton of work this semester and next, I can feel it, A+P is already 2 chapters in and there's only been one class! Anne Merkel is a hard-ass, I love teachers that treat you like an adult. Hence the reason I'm acing college and just barely made it out of high-school. I've read up on the first two chapters and now I can point to all sorts of areas on my body and call them by their technical names. It's kind of neat. It will prove useful if I go to vet school.
I'm still not entirely sure on that. What really made me contradict myself, is the phenominal concert Joshua and I went to in Cape Cod on thursday. it reminded me really of how much I really love music, it's such a big part of my life, and, like Josh, it's the only thing that doesn't feel like work. Even the whole vet thing, I know I'll come home tired and bored and miserable everyday, no matter how comfortable I am when I'm working with animals. It's just not the same. I'm thinking about maybe going into the New England School of Communications to take the radio/ music technology course they have over there and work in radio stations and for famous people at concerts. I want to be the person who's behind the soundboard, making sure everything sounds awesome. Mybe once in a while actually on stage and playing the drums or singing. I just want to be out there. I love music. It makes me feel so alive.
So, now I'm back where I started, not knowing what to do with my life, when I thought I had it all figured out. There you go John, Kasey's back at square one.
