...my eyes are bleeding salty tears...

i've been looking through my digital music collection until my eyes bleed to find the tracks for my cd for boy. it's been a super-pain because my music is pretty much all on my external harddrive, so i've had to go through and open folders for each artist, album, etc. but this is what i ended up with:

if you leave_nada surf
i'd rather dance with you_kings of convenience
can't help falling in love_a*teens
imaginary ordinary_architecture in helsinki
don't turn around_ace of base
best imitation of myself_ben folds five
don't wanna lose you now_backstreet boys
(you drive me) crazy_britney spears
is this love?_clap your hands say yeah!
still in love_nick cave & the bad seeds
accidentally in love_counting crows
music sounds better with you_daft punk
digital love_daft punk
invisible_lillix
indier than thou_mc frontalot
the longest time_me first and the gimme gimmies
motobike_olympic hopefuls
always on my mind_phantom planet
who i am hates who i've been_relient k
when i'm with you_simple plan
end it on this_no doubt

these are the songs on boy's mix cd. i'm not sure on the order yet, but i know that "if you leave" goes first and "end it on this" goes last. i don't know if these are good or bad songs to put on a cd for the boy you love, the one who doesn't love you back. i'm not too well versed in these things, seeing as i've never done them before. but what the hell, i might as well give it a go.

i'm going to go through and write down why i put each song on it....i'll post that, with my letter. yuck. i'm going to hate myself if i do this, and hate myself if i don't, so i might as well do it. the worst that could come of it would be if boy never talked to me again (like that would be much different than it is now) or if he told all his friends and i became the laughing stock of the school (which will be over in three weeks anyways so who fucking cares). the best thing that could come out of it would be for boy to like me back and i don't know what would happen then. what will most likely happen (assuming i actually get this stuff into his backpack) is that we both will ignore its existence, and life will go on as usual. that wouldn't be too bad.

dreaming in the key of him,
*madlane*

...wannabe wannabe ano-rexic...

a dear friend of mine told me the other week that she was anorexic. i must say, it was a shocker. she's always been careful about calories and whatnot, but i never expected it to really be a problem. she seems so perfect...tall, thin, with lovely black hair. she does super-well at school, and it seems like, whenever i see her she's mainly worried about the fact that her gpa slipped from a 4.25 to a 4.20 or some such thing. but apparently her parents actually watch what she eats, and she's not supposed to drop below a certain poundage. as is, she told me how much she weighs, and all be damned if it wasn't quite a few pounds less than what (i think) i weigh now. did i mention that missy has more than a couple of inches on me? of course, i was sympathetic, and gave her advice and whatnot, but inside i was burning with jealousy. isn't that sick?

here is a part of me that really, really, really wants to be anorexic. at least until i lose all this fucking weight. instead, i get stuck being the fucking opposite of anorexic. instead of thinking all the time about not eating, i think all the time about eating. and then i eat. i hate the way i look and yet i eat more. goddammit. i've tried to be anorexic sometimes, and it'll work, for a few days. until something goes wrong.

after she told me, i tried to be anorexic. it worked great, for about three days. and then prom screwed me over. i ate lunch, and then so much fucking dinner...and it was all downhill from there. this summer...this summer i need to shed pounds like a stripper sheds clothes. when i go to italy i will be so fucking skinny, it'll be great.


ha. i wish.

praying for disease,
*madlane*

...wannabe paparazzi...

golly, shopping for cheap, quality digital cameras is a pain. i wish i had enough money to buy a digital SLR 'cause then i could take pictures like i'm used to. but i need a digicam to take to italy...and to take pictures of boy...

speaking of pictures, i made a really nice picture to-day, it's a gorgeous neg & print...pretty much no comment from the 'rents. what the hell.

now they're fucking making fun of my hair. i hate this.

tired and frustrated and wanting his love,
*madlane*

...yours truly...

i think that, this weekend, i'm going to make boy a mix cd and write him a letter. a letter that's part thank you not and part confessional. basically, i've been thinking a lot lately about how he's graduating in three weeks, and, after then, i may never see him again. gah, i don't even want to think about it. i can hardly remember what it's like to not be in love with him, dammit. so basically, i'm going to write this letter, and burn the cd (first track: if you leave, by nada surf), then sneak it into his timbuk2 at the nearest possible opportunity. then ignore its existance, unless he brings it up, in which case attempt to be as nonchalant as possible about it. hmm...i swear i'll regret this.

sincerely, as always,
*madlane*

...farewell, strongbad...

strongbad, my beloved and broken ibook, (yeah, it hella is named after the homestarr character) is going to be replaced by apple with a macbook. while i am hella stoked that i get a new computer (a macbook, too! with a superdrive! RAD!!), i'm still sad that this spells the end, fer sure, for strongbad. i have to send him back to them...i'll miss him...he was one of my best friends. i'm considering naming my macbook strongbad, in memoriam, but i'm not sure. my classic was named elmo.

queen of conflictions,
*madlane*

...were they ever wrong...

do you know what's funny? apparently, several of my friends thought that i didn't have a very good time at prom. at least, they said that i didn't look it. i guess because i don't usually smile as i dance. i'm used to dancing alone, used to people not really noticing me. it's a time for me to think...so i don't usually make an effort to appear as if i am enjoying myself, even if i am, immensely.

dancing alone is no where near as fun as dancing with boy. goddammit i can't believe that he's graduating in three and a half weeks. it is now my personal mission to kiss him before he goes. if only because after that, i may never see him again.

i hugged him today. several times. it was wonderful.

feigning normalcy,
*madlane*

...i've got the whole world in my hands...

boyishness held my had to-day in circle. i was so excited it was hard to relaaaaaax.

far too in love,
*madlane*

...how many times can one heart break...

dammit. things with boy are back to the way they were last week. no, the week before. last week we at least had prom stuff to talk about. now we got nothing. not that i expected us to suddenly have some sort of relationship, i've always loathed the stupid girls who do one thing with a boy and suddenly they are in "true love", but damned if i don't care. i hate myself for caring. you probably thing that i'm an idiot, and maybe i am.

there's a song by the kings of convenience called "i'd rather dance with you"...these are the lyrics:
I'd rather dance with you than talk with you
So why don't we just move into the other room
There's space for us to shake, and hey, I like this tune

Even if I could hear what you said
I doubt my reply would be interesting for you to hear
Because I haven't read a single book all year
And the only film I saw, I didn't like it at all

I'd rather dance, I'd rather dance than talk with you
I'd rather dance, I'd rather dance than talk with you
I'd rather dance, I'd rather dance than talk with you

The music's too loud and the noise from the crowd
Increases the chance of misinterpretation
So let your hips do the talking
I'll make you laugh by acting like the guy who sings
And you'll make me smile by really getting into the swing
Getting into the swing, getting into the swing
Getting into the swing, getting into the swing
Getting into the swing, getting into the swing
Getting into the swing, getting into the swing...

(Getting to the swing...)
I'd rather dance, I'd rather dance than talk with you
I'd rather dance, I'd rather dance than talk with you
I'd rather dance, I'd rather dance than talk with you
I'd rather dance, I'd rather dance than talk with you
I'd rather dance with you
I'd rather dance with you

i think they pretty much describe boy's and my relationship. we're really awkward and bad at talking to each other (at least on my end), but turn out the lights and turn up the music and we can dance. son of a gun can we dance.

i hate this. and yet...and yet...i wouldn't trade it for the world. why is life so goddamn hard?

on a different note, i've decided to change my name to madlane. if you say it, it sounds like "madeline", but different.

cursing her inadequacies,
*madlane*

...how many times will they call your name...

may 21

this was my prom night:

i got to my friend's house (who i was staying the night at) a little late, and her sister opened the door with the information that boy would be there in, like, 10 minutes. so i think that i broke a world record for getting ready for prom. i looked pretty hot, though... boy ended up being a little late, and, when i was waiting for him, i found out that he had been asked to prom before i did, and said no. that made me feel kind of special.

so then boy arrived...jesus, he looked so hot. ripped black pants, black leather trench coat, red scarf. eyeliner. possibly mascara, not too sure on that point. (under the trench & scarf was a black longsleeved western shirt and red tie). he came up to the door, and i almost peed my dress. he brought me a corsage!! i so was not expecting that.

so we drove to dinner, and that was rad...dinner was hell of awkward. there were, like 7 other people there, not of who i really hang out with much. i was sitting at one end of the table, and there were two guys on either side of me. that would be great, except for the fact that they spent a lot of time talking about facial hair...i was really nervous during dinner, and so was pretty quiet and drank a lot of water. on boy's suggestion i got this salad, and then we spilt a portabello mushroom flatbread thing. i couldn't eat all of my share (there was too much freaking food!), so boy had to finish it. i kind of loosened up by the end of dinner, but was still pretty nervous. at dinner, though, i found out that this was boy's first prom. omg! i'm the only girl who has ever gone to prom with boy. raaaaaad.

after dinner we drove to this girl's house (she wasn't there), and boy put on red lipstick. then we went to prom. prom. prom prom prom prom prom.

i had imagined prom being even more awkward than dinner...partly because i've seen boy dance, like, one time in my life. turns out he's a pretty good dancer. yeah, i danced with boy. several times. oh my god. it was soooo nice. there was a lot of dancing in a group kind of thing, especially at first. my friend, who also has a crush on boy, did a lot of dancing near to the boy, like she wanted to dance with him, but she never actually did. i did, though. jesus christ. it's hard to even write about it. we did a lot of kind of dancing together without actually touching, and then there was a little dancing while touching hands ness. yuck. there was this stupid girl, who has a boyfriend who kept dancing with boy. i swear, she danced more with my date than hers. what the hell. and then this other girl was hogging him, too. they were taking advantage of the fact that i got him to come.

one time (before the boy and i for-real danced), he was dancing with the first girl, so i did a revenge-dance with this other guy (who i'm kind of friends with). a revenge-dance is when you dance with another guy to get revenge on yer date who is dancing with another girl. and you hope that they notice. and care. unfortunately, they might not notice. also unfortunately, the person you're using might not realize that they are just a tool. so yeah...i don't really know if boy noticed, and for the rest of the night the other dude kept wanting to dance with me. what the hell.

then, finally, boy and i danced. like fer realz danced...like close...like, touching....YEEEE OMFG!!! at that point i think he still had his shirt and tie on. it was hawt. it was kind of weird because i'm not used to dancing with dudes (that i like!) but i got used to it vair quickly! and that's good, because i did dance with boy more than once!! many times!! and he went from shirt and tie to shirt, to partially unbuttoned shirt, to fully unbuttoned shirt, to shirt off and bare torso with scarf criss-crossed over it.

i danced with boy quite a bit (when he wasn't being hogged). like close-danced. like really close. and i am not ashamed to say that i did let my hands wander...across that back...those shoulders...them arms...that chest...and his dee-liciously slim hips. it was niiiiiice. and dude... he hell of was holding me tight too.

it was funny, because when he was being hogged by the other people, he kind of, at least towards the end of the dance, was looking like he was a little sick of it. like, he would dance, but his heart didn't seem to be in it. he kept looking around. at me? i like to think so.

at the end of prom, he gave me, my friend who also has a crush on him, and my friend whose house we staying at a ride home...we got out, and said goodnight. i walked behind my friends to the door, and when i turned back to look at boy, he blew me a kiss. it was the sweetest thing. i blew one back and went inside. gol durn. when ever i think about that, or dancing with him, i get this stupid grin on my face. it just makes me so happy!! it kind of makes me wonder, though. if my friends weren't there, would he have kissed me fer real? probably not.

but anyways....i had the best prom night. i didn't need to stress out like i did. it'll be hard to go back to normal on monday...a.k.a. tomorrow. ugh. but whatever happens, however much we hardly talk again (which would be normal for us, i'll have my prom night stashed a way.

loving this live,
.anouk.

p.s. i was thinking that, if prom was heck of awkward and terrible, it might cure (or lessen) my boy obsession. but, if anything, it made me more in love with him. sigh.

p.p.s. i am so straight. or, if i'm queer, i really suck at it. no lady has ever made me feel like boy does...and i haven't even kissed him...yet.

...tie my hands with time...

may 19

ugh. there's a girl at my school who has c.p., and she always likes to work with me on group projects. that's good and all, but they never seem to work out. either they don't get done, or i end up doing them at 3:00 am, the week after they're due. we just got assigned a timeline, and she wants to do it together. i would really like to do this myself. i only now am back to getting shit done on time, i don't want to fuck this up. and then i was going to tell her that i just wanted to do it this weekend, but my mom was at school and whatnot so i completely forgot. oh well. i'll just fucking do it anyways.

dude. boy and i are hella going to prom. for real. and, like, going to dinner with a few other people first. it will be great.

...still waiting for the fallout...

i asked boy to prom. and he said yes. i'm going to prom with boy. PRAISE JESUS.

it's weird...i didn't think that it would actually happen. but there's still 3-4 days for something to go wrong. for someone to laugh and tell me it was all a joke. so many people have told me they're jealous of me. but i just asked.

how did this happen? how is the little loner kid with the bleached blonde hair and tangly mascara'd eyelashes (that sounds so much more alluring than it is) end up going to prom with the most desired boy in the entire school?

i'm nervous. i've never even gone on a date before. but it's not really a date. he has a girlfriend. i think. i'm always nervous around him...like all my nerves are on fire. what did i get myself into?

blissfully scrambled,
.anouk.

...i didn't read the fine print...

i can't believe that i didn't ask boy again. actually, i can, but i don't want to. there were so many chances, but i couldn't get the words out. what is my problem? it's only asking the boy i have been in love with since eighth grade to the largest dance of the year. dammit.

i tried to bleach my hair again. it's still fucking red. well, now it's a little more on the orange side. the part that was blonde is tending toward white, and and the part that was roots is blonde. and i think my hair is falling out. why am i such a loser?

i asked myself today what i want. what do i want? i want a good dye job. i want to lose weight. i want a prom date. i want college acceptances. i want a computer that works. i want a job. i want a school with people i can relate to. i want those i love to love me. i just wanna be loved.

if i told you i loved you, would you break my heart?

counting the days,
.anouk.

...if this is love...

then where is my rice cake?

i got my family in italy. i'm in the south, which is kind of disappointing because i really wanted to live in the north. oh well.


....and i'm still too much of a wimp to ask the boy i like to prom. dammit.


wishing she had all the answers,
.anouk.

p.s. i know this is a lame post. x.a.

...spin me a web...

mmm i'm going to ask boy to prom tomorrow. i have to—i promised my friend that i would. and also i'm getting really flipping sick of my cowardice. buck up, anouk. plus, the longer i wait and dawdle, the more likely that someone else will ask him blah blah blah. for all i know he already is going with someone else. oh well. fuckit. i'll ask him anyways. because i [heart] him. i'm just going to ask him as friends, though. because i think he has a girlfriend. [sigh].


hot damn i love spiderman 2. and spiderman 1. i haven't seen the movie since it was in theaters (when i saw spidey2 three, count 'em, three, times), but i've read the novelization (damn good book) and listened to the soundtrack a gazillion times. it's good. >.>


a boy on the bus today pulled my hair. a boy i'm friends with. he hardly pulled it, really. just a few strands that were sticking up, and he didn't pull hard at all. but i turned around and smacked him. hard. i regretted it as soon as i did it, but you can't take that back. it's just that when he pulled my hair, it brought back all the pain and humiliation and alienation that i went through in 8th grade etc crashing down on me. back then i had my hair pulled and whatnot so much without giving resistance that i started getting combative. you hurt me, i'll hurt you worse, etc. it's horrible. and i feel really bad about hitting him, but he ruined a good deal of the day for me. unintentionally. i hope he'll forgive me. i hope i can forgive myself.


in my cd player: spiderman 2 soundtrack. <3


confusion in her heart,
.anouk.

p.s. i made a super banner, but my computer's being wonky when i'm trying to resize it. meh, x.a.

...why the hell...

is neil young famous?

i mean, come on!

*he's stupid looking
*can't sing
*writes dumb songs.

he doesn't even have the kitsch factor, like britney spears does!!


DOWN WITH NEIL YOUNG!!

...burnt lips and the catholic church...

written yesterday:

i wish that i could take a movie remote to my life. rewind, fast forward, anything but slow motion. this movie not intended for children under the age of seventeen. well, too bad, i'm here now sixteen years old and living it. control-alt-delete. but you can't force quit on life. at least not the kind that will take you back to finder, safely and offering a second chance. life's too permanent for that. too damn permanent.

i took the SAT yesterday (saturday). i think i did o.k. on it. except the essay part. what i got written was decent, i think, but 25 minutes is just too short for me to write anything complete and coherent. the people around me had the two pages written in no time, but when the proctor called end i had less than two paragraphs. oh well. fuck it. i tried. ish. but no matter my scores this time (unless i ace it, haha), i'm going to study really fucking hard for next time. vocab flashcards until my eyes bleed, countless math problems and collegiate essays in under two minutes. practice tests will be my bitch. then i'll take the test for real shake off the early morning fog and fill in all the right answers. in the mail three weeks later there will be three 800s waiting for me. i'll have matched my brother but mine will mean more not only because of the essay but because i actually had to work for mine. i'll be on top of the fucking world. and if i don't? if my scores still suck? well i guess i shouldn't judge myself by a test but if i study hard and assimilate all that fucking data and pour my soul into fill-in-the-bubble and it still doesn't measure up, i don't know what i'll do. i guess i never was that good anyways.

i'm going to ask boy if he's going to the prom tomorrow. if he says yes i'll ask if he's going with anybody. if the answer is no i'll ask him to prom. it doesn't matter what he says after that. of course, i'll be extatic if he says yes, but what really matters is that i asked him. but i won't something will go wrong. he won't be there, there isn't a chance, or a just chicken out. oh well. it was a nice thought while it lasted.


today

...fuck. i'm such a failure. i didn't ask him. of course i didn't. as much as i would like to, i never thought for a minute that i would actually go through with it. but there wasn't really a time to ask him. i will tomorrow. i swear.

i found out where boy is going to college, though. in the same town where my dearest darlingest blonde boy wants to go. different college, same small, new england town. i could visit the love of my life and my biggest crush in one trip! praise the lord!! now as long as my love still wants to go there in a year.



wanting what she can't have,
.anouk.

...the list [of DOOM]

Photography
Movie Making
Writing
Different Eras
Different Countries
Canada
Languages
Cooking
Sewing
Etiquitte
Religion
Fashion
Computers
Art
Dance
Marketing

these are the things that i would love to study if i was in charge of my own education. two hundred hours equals ten credits equals one year. ugh. why is my life so not the way i want it?

...the legacy of mr. blob...

This is a surprisingly good short story that I wrote in fourth grade. It is presented here in its original form. Prepare to be amazed!!


The Legacy of Mr. Blob

Nature absolutely astounded Mr. Blob. From the smallest flower to the tallest tree. From the tiniest insect to the largest elephant. Mr. Blob went through more rolls of film a week than you can imagine, just taking pictures of all the flora and fauna he saw. He had names for every plant or animal in his pictures. He was most happy out in the wild with his camera and magnifying glass.

But he was not satisfied. Mr. Blob was lonely. He didn't mind it when he was busy, but in the evenings it really got to him, He wanted someone he could tell stories to. Because Mr. Blob had many stories. Many wonderful stories, for Mr. Blob had been to many wonderful places.

One day when Mr. Blob was out exploring, he heard someone crying. He followed the sound until he found a clearing. In the clearing there was a girl with her head down on her knees. She was sobbing as if her heart would break. Mr. Blob came over to her and asked,

"Are you lost?" The girl nodded.

"Would you like to hear a story?" Mr. Blob asked gently. The girl looked up through her tears.

"Yes, please." So Mr. Blob launched into a long and wonderful story about India. By the time Mr. Blob finished the story she had dried her tears.

"What is your name?" Mr. Blob asked.

"Lucinda."

"My name is Mr. Blob." Lucinda smiled at this, because Mr. Blob was far from a blob. In fact, he was as skinny as a toothpick.

"Well, Lucinda, it certainly was nice meeting you. But we should get you home soon. Your mother will be worried." So Mr. Blob and Lucinda went to Mr. Blob's house. After Lucinda's mother came and picked her up, Mr. Blob sat thinking about Lucinda. She was a good listener. He wished he could see her again and tell her stories.

The next day his wish came true. As soon as school was out Lucinda and her friends were outside his gate, begging for stories. Mr. Blob welcomed them happily into his house and began to tell stories. This went on for several years. In August of the year that Lucinda was a junior in high school Mr. Blob called all the children around him.

"My dears, I have run out of stories, I have no more to tell you." The children's hearts were heavy with sadness as they left that day, but none were as heavy as Mr. Blob's. It was like a rock in his stomach.

That winter Mr. Blob got deathly ill. He was miserable, not just with pain, but he missed his friends. He thought that they had forgotten him, but he was wrong.

The next day Lucinda paraded in, carrying a large pot of warm broth, Next to her were her little sister sister Alice and toddler brother Jamie. Alice had a bowl and Jamie had a spoon. Following them were all her friends, each carrying a colorful, nature get well card. Lucinda set down the pot and served some of the broth into the bowl Alice handed her. Giving the bowl to Mr. Blob she said,

"Give the nice man your spoon, Jamie." The solemn way the little boy handed Mr. Blob the spoon was so funny that Mr. Blob had to laugh. Then he tried to thank Lucinda, but she was firm.

"Don't talk, eat." The other children were setting their cards on any flat space they could, until finally the room looked like the jungle itself. By the time they left they were all a great deal happier.

Mr. Blob never got better, but as he lay dying, surrounded by his friends, he said, "Mark, take the goldfish. Johnny, you Thomas, Jenny and Rosa, divide the pictures. Ronny, take my magnifying glass and my camera. Alice and Jamie, you share the stuffed animals. And Lucinda I give you my house and my journal." And with that, he closed his eyes, smiled, and then he died. He died a happy man, with his friends around him.

Lucinda took his death the hardest, and locked herself in her room for a month and would not eat nor drink. She finally came out, after deciding that he would want her to live a long, full life, and would want her to move on to other things. This she did, but she never forgot him or the stories he told for as long as she lived.

...the lie...

a recently recovered poem i wrote 4 or so years ago at summer camp:

the silence is a wall
between us
the distrust
another barrier
i raise my fist
bang at the barrier
tear at the wall
but
my friends are deaf

to them
reason means less than
a counterfeit penny

tears fall from my eyes
an oasis in the desert faces of
my friends

my friends
the distance between us
is now
too great to cross

as i turn
and walk away
my face hardens into a mirror
of my friends' faces

feelings freeze
we are icebergs

...this christmas, i gave you my heart...

i hate how fat i am. i consume excess calories even as i curse the added weight. i hate how i can't bring myself to lose it off. i know i could. but every day that i eat only blueberries and v-8, i stop at the store on the way home and stuff 900+ calories into my mouth. i hate my inability to be anorexic. i hate the stretch marks, cellulite, and the too small jeans. but most of all i hate that i care. when did i become this girl? i used to be fearless.

i am infinitely adaptable, yet another of my faults. yes, being adaptable is a fault. because it is just one step away from apathy. i hate that i can get used to things that i hate, things that disturb my very soul. like my italy trip (or lack there of), for example. dearest mother broke the news and my heart, and i immediately locked it in the sealed vault where i keep such things. the place where, if i look inside for too long, i start to panic and silent screams echo en my mind. but now i'm used to it. i'm over it. whatever, eh. i'll pull through. see what i mean? if i can't hold on to my dreams, what is going to happen to me>? they're all i have, some days.

eew. i am so filled with teenagerish self loathing. it's tiresome. i hate being a fucking cliché.

christmas in her ears,
.anouk.