Author's Ramblings: here's an actual rambling from me. It makes no sense. I don't own Radiohead, REM, or other things I referred to. Could you find all the Radiohead references? Enjoy.
Meeting People Could Be Easy
By: Lala The Panda
There comes a time in the summer when the sun stop shining and when the egg frying heat can't warm up the cold sensation of loneliness. Well, I don't know if that has ever happened to you, but it hits me every summer. Its like that unexpected summer cold except… I always know it's going to hit me.
It happens at the end of July and beginning of August. That middle time. I bet you have a busy social schedule; you have no time to seat about and wallow. You're heading off to a sun-kissed day with your closest group of gal-pals or spending a romantic evening with your summer fling.
You're not a freak, a weirdo or a sad excuse for a teenager.
Well I am. That's why I am here typing up this angst filled somewhat of a rant on my computer while listening to the incredible music of Radiohead. Fuck you if you call me "emo." I'm just an extremely self conscious, low esteemed, socially awkward (but very well dressed/ fashionable) teenager.
Sure, I do have my summer-y type days and moments. They're like expensive drugs. They don't happen that often, its fun and you're high (be it natural or other), and you're depressed, tired, and begging for more when it's all gone in the sunset (or sunrise in some cases).
I am a bitter girl, who is all about world peace and loves revenge (I'm all for the mental stuff, hit them where it hurts). The last song that was playing ended repeating, "we hope that you choke." Thought you should know.
How could I describe myself? A bitter, angry girl inside with the outer appearance of the typical Seventeen magazines reading sixteen year old (except I rather be reading Vogue). Too long. My short cut is describing myself as a REM song. I have the sounds of happy-poppy, but the lyrics are depressing. Think of their song, "Shiny Happy People."
God I love that song.
Anyways, my summer day does not go like this: waking up a bit close to noon, throwing on some outfit, look fabulous and hot, calling/ texting my friends about hitting the mall or the beach on my $300 plus Sidekick, and spending the rest of the day frolicking about with a smile on my face (while checking out some tasty hot guys and vice versa) and ends the day at home with the family all smiling and everything in its right place.
Oh heavens no! I'd have a mental breakdown if my day were as perfect as that. Tears of joy, pain, and sadness will create a flood that would rival the biblical one.
My day goes like this:
I wake up around eight to nine in the morning; I work on my AP (Advance Placement) book reports on one of the three books assigned by the English III Honors teachers at my school. After an hour, I'll head downstairs; my mom will bitch at me while I figure out whether I should eat a waffle or yogurt. After my belly is full, I'll go back into my room, and read a chapter from my 630 paged American history book assigned as summer reading for my AP US History (APUSH) class for this coming school year. Each chapter is about sixty to almost a maybe eighty pages long. Its no Harry Potter book, that's for sure.
After reading a chapter, which might be an hour or two later, I'll head down and see what's for lunch, I might skip it though. I waste the rest of the day logging on and off of Myspace, waiting for comments, messages, adds and interesting bulletins. Maybe someone other than the usual people will acknowledge my existence and contact me through the soul-sucking site. Besides Myspace, I waste time on reading House, MD stories, (waiting for a review), , Green , , and (watching Monty Python, Radiohead and Franz Ferdinand performances).
Around seven in the evening, I'd sit down in my parents' room and watch TV. I might stand up a bit and walk around the room, still watching the box with the moving pictures and flashing images. Some time between seven and ten is dinner, which I would go down and eat or get my food and head back to the TV. Dinner is the time my dad bitches at me. I'll go to bed at the late time of eleven o'clock (that is if there isn't any interesting late night news that would keep me up).
The next day is usually the same, unless its Sunday, that usually means church. The schedule picks up again after mass.
Now, with a life like that, it makes me go, "no wonder I'm socially awkward, the freak of the bunch when I hang out with my ultra cool and gorgeous rock and roll-ish cousins (I don't belong here) and that I don't have a boyfriend, and even if I do get a boyfriend I couldn't hold him for more than two weeks (like my first and probably last boyfriend) without getting annoyed and/or embarrassed by him and therefore dumping him and living another year or so in a romantically-socially-bitter state."
Well, when my social life does get a boost of adrenaline, it could be fun. I guess. The most memorable part of my summer yet is the night of the Radiohead concert. It was the night that I never wanted to end. During that point in time, all my worries and problems disappeared as I jammed and danced along to my kings on earth (the power of Thom's voice makes me want scream/cry). I wasn't a short, acne-scarred, lisp-speaking, 3.7 GPA earning, starting Algebra II student, loose-flabby muscle, crooked spine, shitty hair, bitterly single, fat-gaining, "upper middle class", depressed and lonely teenager. I was…something… and I felt good!
Fuck drugs, I want to go back to that night.
But no, my summer days are wasted away. My youth is crumbling at my feet. These are the moments that I am going to hate myself for when I hit forty. These moments that I waste, in my room, wanting to get away from my southern Californian suburban, Filipino American home.
Moments like this that just push me further and further into the belly of teenage and adulthood depression. Moments when my legs are on fire because of pain cause by my crooked spine and make me want to start popping painkillers. Moments that make me contemplate my life. Moments that have songs like "Lost In A Supermarket" (The Clash) and "How To Disappear Completely" are playing in the background.
These moments are all leading up to some sort of mental breakdown that is going the erupt in angst-ridden lava all before the public, making one of my greatest fears come true. Public display of a "negative" emotion. If death, my greatest fear, would swiftly happen next, then I'd be able to live with the breakdown then.
All in a domino-chain-linked sort of way. On a side note, that's how my life is going to happen if things go down the shit hole. In that domino-affect.
I'll fail at least two classes by getting a "C" in them, which would result in my GPA lowering, the low GPA cannot save my poor SAT scores, resulting in rejection letters from universities and other well-known, highly regarded education institutions, which would then mean I would have to go to a community college or attend school at a Cal State with my overweight, ugly, stupid older sister. I would then get involved with the wrong people, the type of people I avoided in high school, which would mean hardcore drugs, which I would get addicted too, then I'd quit school for the life of partying that I missed from high school. After quitting, I would be the disgrace of the family, and be cut off. So because I have no money for the drugs I will be the prostitute that I joked I would be back in middle school (oh the irony), but then because of my unappealing looks I wouldn't get any clients and then one night after another rejection, I dig into my last stash of drugs. During that last high, I would get run over by a car. I'll be too fucked to notice any pain.
Someone said that true love waits. Well, if I am someone's true love, then he better get his ass moving. It also sucks for that guy because I suck at relationships, I hate to be smothered with fluff, carrying a heavy bouquet of flowers to my classes, and having a boyfriend constantly around. Maybe that's why Summer flings, or flings in general, are best for me. Not to long, but long enough to be happy with.
Too bad I can't get guys to notice me. Apparently no guy at school is interested in me. The only guy who every crushed on me was my first BF who turned out to be completely weirdo (that's another rant another time). Another guy I thought who liked me only asked me out to Winter Formal because I just so happened to be there. Friends say I must have something so that he could even considered asking me (he is a total hunk, and popular too), but I think that that guy and my friends are on one long acid trip.
I think I have long passed the main point about summer depression and that this has been about shit. Its time to retire this…ha… "rant". I'm tired. My mind is climbing up the walls, I'm a paranoid android, and trees are fake and plastic. I'm trying to optimistic, but I'm in limbo. I'm bored and on ok terms with my computer.
Don't. "There, there, you, things will get better, you're lucky, and you'll get out of the air crash."
Sorry. I'm a creep. I'm a let down. There's spelling mistakes and grammar mistakes in this. It's typo-ridden. No Surprises there.
I'm not here and its not really happening.
School starts in about four weeks. Four weeks. What could happen? Things could change, right? Well, I might be wrong.
I wasted your precious time. Sorry, it was your choice to read this.