2010,yo

because i change gradually, but eventually it amounts to something different

www.emleaf.blogspot.com

:)

the book i have to read for my math class surprised me in the best of ways and said

"Learn this lesson, that to be self-contented is to be vile and ignorant, and that to aspire is better than to be blindly and impotently happy. Now listen"

i was thinking today about all the times i learn;
about people, about the world, about myself, about how i slash others think about things, etc etc and i thought about the ways of how i learn them. listening to people, lectures, or stories. reading, or writing myself into a conclusion. observing, thinking, creating. and i thought about how all those ways listed are done in silence. and i usually have fun at parties but when everyone was shouting no one was listening to eachother and it was so loud, yet nothing was said, and nothing was learnt. and the things i remember most from that night are not any of the things shouted -meganfox-unspeakablethings-haaaaaha-youwont- . what i remember are the looks i saw when i everyone was watching the movie and i turned around and everyone's faces was duly aglow; half with purple-tinted flickering light from the shifting tv screen, half with the various shifts of consciousnesses and sparks of realizations, laughter, or confusion. i learnt from those. i learnt from the things that werent said, and from touches and hugs and crazed dancing. and i learned a lot, i cant quite say what it was because it was never said and im not adequate with words


if memory serves

im addicted to words

and theyre useless

to you who made me my Wintery Mix From One Emily to another Emily seedee i would just like to say that i thought it might make a me cry a bit, and want to curl warmly into sweaters and books and thoughts like sadish music usually does. but some strange chemical reaction occured between my HSO5 and CH4 and ClO- and 5H2Cl+ and everything else ive learned the past week thats inside me. and its made me okay with everything id previously held faulted in my life. truly, its okay. more than okay. not everything is spectacular and gleaming as that first moment you set eyes upon it. but after the flight and crash and burn or any extended period of static... the world is fine. you are fine. i am fine, this is balance. not indifferent balance, or limited scared balance anymore either. thank god.

and i want to thank you for being who you are because you are an enabler. and those types of people make differences in the world.

in fact that goes for both girlz who made me cds in the past week, the other being the most open thing i know i want to talk to you for hours, i want you to know that the things you do are great just becuase of the nature you do them in, the people you are with are great merely by your presence, you dont realize how greatgreatgreat you are. and how greatness is contagious.

i wish you guys werent yourselves sometimes... i mean so you could look at yourselves as someone else. and have yourself enabled by yourself. to feel the belief you instill in people, and be moved by it. and also- to you who does the announcements that never fail to remind me to laugh in my day. i wish you could step outside that tall body, and sit in a first period classroom chair instead for a day. and see how your day would be brightened.

And one day, I am gonna grow wings

I wonder when is that critical moment; that steady, inevitable drift as i always imagined-- or maybe its the at first imperceptible, and then all-consuming fall-- from what ive always been into what i hope to be. i wonder when the "when im older" happens, or how. im older now. im older than i was when i started writing this entry.

A chemical reaction

today i wanted to scream during F block because I was very very happy and wondered why i wouldnt just shout out if i wanted to so bad. i wanted to so much it tickled the top of my throat but i thought that. 1. it would cause mayhem in my classroom, or maybe a frigid pool of glaring silence. (either one would be excruitatingly awkward and funny) 2. it would probably cause a more dramatic effect than beneficial outcome 3. people just dont do that. and i was a little upset at myself to have to weigh all my options before doing them. are all my actions measured? is nothing i do that completely spontaneous and raw impulse we all have.. do we make those settle? are our actions the addition of our impulse - percieved societal expectations - percieved social image - self-assurance limitations = diluted action? i beat my urges down and leash them up. its a good thing i guess that i dont completely destroy them. but because they are kept so near, i can hear them whining and barking.

Hysterical and useless

and i was thinking about all the petty things i said at lunch to people whom i dont know very well, and i wondered why people even bother with that small talk. if the only thing these people know me by are these "omg. ya. wow. huh. really?" conversations we have during sporadic lunches, they must find me so utterly boring. maybe i shouldve shouted out loud then, which wouldve been much more interesting than my feigned interest. "your mom made you a salad? yum. no i dont have that teacher. school sucks" and honestly i dont think school sucks in the slightest

i wish i could create music because when my fingers used to be able to fly over the piano keys like the long, spindly spiders theyd matured into, i would sit at that piano bench for hours. my piano sounds like crushing bone, people chewing with their mouths open, or some other horrific noise. it hasnt been tuned since even before we bought it, over 9 years ago. but to me, it sounded perfect because i could only hear what i heard in my head, supplemented a bit by the awareness of pounding keys and sounds, but those hardly mattered. every thought i had shot from my fingertips throught this vast organ, like a heart pumping out beats expelled out and its was what i had inside of me.. except out of me. i could listen to it. so could others! and then my piano lessons were over because we couldnt afford them, and i taught myself one refrain of one song and i can still play it for an hour at a time, past annoying others and my dogs beginning to howl, past even when up to my shoulder becomes sore, because its all i have left of that

i miss creating

sometimes i feel like turning to the person next to me and just validating the fact that this does exist, the types of people ive admired my whole life, to be living breathing and thrashing in front of me. and if their as amazed to be a part of that too.

shoutoutz to mah franz :) ;) LOL LOL <3

whose DPs can make the chandelier shake, can YES! harder than anyone I know, peel clementines in one whole peel, talk to me in my driveway until very very late, flash track teams, throw down fresh beats and carol of the bells harmonizings and still be the most thoughtful intelligent and interesting people there is. I love you babes, but you just cant make me smile

These phantom pains in my right ankle yawn and stretch and awaken with this stricken grin, an anticipatory snicker. Wrapping their coiled, scaly fingers around my stretched and feeble tendons, leafing through those supple and flexible ligaments that now give way at their touch. A new soccer season, but the beginning. And I can already feel my looming surrender. Those pains like ghosts that shoot, and cut, and pull. Its like their unraveling the strings that tie my foot to my leg. If they hurt you ever after this, its time for surgery.
Stop it.

"An oxymoron. You know two things that contradict themselves. Like jumbo-shrimp. Or military intelligence"

I dont even know. Today was, scintillating. And buoyant. And relative. Cool stupid insane weird are all so relative. Like, so entirely multi-faceted and relative they dont even exist. And we had personal conversations with teachers and acted fine, I was fine today. The world is fine.

People keep me hopeful because always there is this light in them. Like lighted things like flashlights, or streetlights. Or the flash on a camera. They pan light all around them, not just what theyre pointed at. You are like that. The people who I meet who are scared and strangely distant in conversation, the ones who could never multitask by talking and being vulnerable at the same time.. The perversion, the fakeness, either way. Its slightly hollowed out. The ones who put down others and elevate themselves, theyre pointing their own light at themselves, and its like holding the flashlight up to your own eyes. Blinding. Its the challenge of staring into it, but what are you challenging, what are you defying except yourself?

But You are very light.

And things that you care about dont always make you have joy, because caring is so much more than that flimsy, unsure happiness that always makes me shaky. And giggly. And caring is always fufilling, I think. So far.

Because we separate like
Ripples on a blank shore



December is the time when the earth doesn’t want us. December is the time of cold. Of that musky, wintry smell that isn’t a powder pouffe of snow dabbed onto the grinning cheeks of our Mother, it’s the rigid scabbing of her cracked and splitting skin. Dry. Drly humorous, the frost that smells like derisive laughter, and the pristine sky that’s less transparent than it looks. And the frost that creeps up our steps, and the frost that bites hard into trees and leaves, and they surrender in a hurry.. how those previously green leaves that blank spiral down, that heave of exhaustion, that curling at the corners and drift into sleep. They lay down with the ghost kisses, those flakes like dandruff that ripple from the heavens. Snow flakes, their biting freeze on your blushing cheek. Burrowed into your face, a shot, then numb. This is the tranquil, this is the tranquilized. The comatose stillness, the indifferent placidity.It’s the staying up late at night, lighting my candles and not focusing because my mind is full with frozen, crystal thoughts until I’m holding my pen over the candle flame and its melting and I’m wondering why I’m not fluid like that, why I don’t melt at your touch, until I realize I’m lighting my pen on fire. And my white paper sheets, unfilled with critiques and assignments, stare blankly back. They always win those staring contests. December is that month. That month when we go back to our childhood, our pre-childhood, when its safest in the abundance of blankets in our beds that mimick Mother’s womb, when safety is what we look for. Because December is that month, that time when the earth’s demise is spelled clearly in the fleeing deer tracks, the fish frozen right beneath the surface—of lakes, gaping and bug eyed as they watch this spectacle- the earth. The stretch and the shiver and the shudder. Collapsing into itself. Its not the puffy yawny-eyed sunrise of rose, it’s the glaring reflection of blinding white light off the snickering black ice in the road. It’s the scabbed earth. It’s the fleeing deer. And the fleeing raccoons. And the dead squirrel you ran over, and the frozen, gaping fish. Its the life thats fleeing from the reflection of its unrecognizable self. How we became this. And the retreat. The retreat back into safety. The cavernous womb. The shields of underarmor we layer our brittle and dry skin with, so we don’t crack. The cracks in the road. The unfinished homework, the underlying current that pulls us all back in. Like how even in winter the ocean waves pull steadily at the shore, they never freeze. This is December. This is the unraveling. This is when the earth doesn’t want us.



Reckoner
Take me with you
Dedicated to all you
All human beings

shut UP emily, gahd. youre so annoying. shut up. put that hoe on a leash. Youre so stupid. do you know that. youre dumb shit. no shit. alright bye. i want to punch you in the face. youre so ugly. youre fat. you need to lose some weight. i hate you. youre annoying. pussy. control your bitch. fuck you shut up fat ugly youre a whore. why are you wearing that. wear your hair curly. wear it curly. curly. curly or im not gonna talk to you. maybe you shouldve been doing your ankle exercises all along. selflish. selfish. selfish. selfish bitch. give me all the answers to that. lie to your parents. so dumb so fucking dumb. ew. JUUUST KIDDING. but gross. seriously. yuck. why are you even talking to me. slut. hoe. youre not funny emily. shut the fuck up i dont want to hear it from you! get some. youre so weird. blow some. I bet emily wants my dick. she wants me. we fucked. yah you want it emily dont you?

HAHAHAHAHA YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ! ;)

Today when I drove by that house astrung with flickering christmas lights like pinpricks in the black-drop of falling night, i wondered if you knew that ive always wished i lived in your house. And I wanted to stand outside the window throw rocks at it and tell you. Youre living in my dream house.

You are living someones dream.

And then I had this weird epiphony, that no one makes it out of their lives alive.

And today was a spectacular day. Even though my grades are sliding down the drain, into that disguisting place mom always asks me to clean but i refuse when doing my chores. I think im going to have to restrain this pride. Or, according to the demon i mean guidance counselor who came into my chem class today, apparently ill never ever go to college.

Brother, see, we are one and the same

And you left with your head filled with flames

And you watched as your brains

Fell out through your teeth, push the pieces in place

One thing you dont realize is how much my mind is a mad scientist, and by this i mean that I take everything you say and slice it open with pristine, cleansed scalpels and pick it apart with tongs and boil it over those rusty bunsen burners that belch clawing smoke, and I choke on this smoke that I breathe and forget about it-- once I come back its all burnt to ashes and thats all i have left to observe for meaning

Make your smile sweet to see, don't you take this away

I'm still wanting my face on your cheek

Tell them your list of bad words Zara! Let them know so they'll never say them again

stupid, bozo, gosh darn, hate.

People say that your dreams

are the only things that save ya.

Come on baby in our dreams,we can live on misbehavior.

Every time you close your eyes

Lies, lies! Every time you close your eyes

I read a book and found out it takes years and years and (light?)years for humans to notice that a star has gone out. extinguished. cave in and crumbled. is it a neat packing up and drift away, or an instantaneuos combustion that sends ripples undulating under the dark vieling of nice night sky? i dont know. mine was a drift.

but we never notice these things. and how can we, so far removed from the sky? its merely a matter of our nature, we are humans, this earth our domain. those foreign things, those things outside ourselves, are unreachable. The fact that they exist could even be a further extension of our imagination, some promise to ourselves that there are some burning, passionate things above us; when in truth they could have fizzled out like those Emergen-C! vitamin drops mom makes me put in my drinks when im sick. It spits and growls and yellow blemishes into the water, spreading like an oil spill. Anyways, they could all be out.

I dont know if its a reingnation, or just a toddler coloring the picture back in, scribbling outside the lines but to him, it looks fine. I dont know if its a spark of flame or a seeping of sunlit rays between the bark-laden arms of trees. But either way, we come back. Before anyone knows somethings been gone. It feels good to be hungry yum yum for something i know ill never get. Becuase it keeps me reaching.

stretching feels nice

people are refreshing. like the ones I have no expectations for. yet. i think ill stop having expectations. becuase when you smiled at me today i knew i existed. Once I asked Mr. Farrel how could i could ever hope to write beautiful things and passionate stories if i had no pain in my life. Becuase all these moving things evoke sadness, and this sense of injustice or longing. And I interpreted my lack of upset for indifference. But I realized loving things and feeling things is just as painful because

I dont know why, but feeling things is this sharp, satisfying pain right between my temples that makes me appreciate the little things that when I'm upset, I numb out. I'm going to stop now before I write myself in circles.

Except to say i really know nothing :) and that if you love something, make sure it knows that, at the very least

Often I just get in a mood that feels like sitting in a very still pool of lukewarm water and I feel like watching people. And I watch the interactions that they pass to eachother, insults pass flinches like internal tremors across the table, an offended blink, a casual grimace. No big deal. I dont care. Whatever. Fuck you. Pussy. Bitch. And I dont understand it at all. There is nothing of myself I'm afraid to be anymore (it makes me nervous, but not so much legitimate frightening) and I am not scared of the things I dont understand. I havent found myself threatened by much, I have no need to be threatening. everything I observe seeps into my bloodstream until I'm full and Im so full so full full full of emotion that even though I tell people my day was good and I'm not lying sometimes I have to cry because I just feel things and I wonder if they are real because they are untouchable by anyone but me, its so sad to me that we can only feel our own feelings, that we cant reach out and touch and hold and embrace those precious and fragile thoughts that flap and fall from the nests of people's minds. I cant feel them. We are so limited, and inept as humans, to be trapped in such a trivial thing as ourselves. The confines of my pliable skin.

And then that question, that EVERYONE IS TALKING ABOUT OHEMHAWD.

It's the way I see
everything I need
it's no way to be

as if fun was burst from seeds, the leaves of contentment. As if that swirling high could be born upon a flame. As if that thing, the very thing that makes life so fascinating, (that makes one see the twist and the turn of the fire, licking the air in pained strokes; the glow that imitates warmth by merely encompassing cold, the dulled luminoscity behind bulbous irises. The searing touch,) of heightened senses? As if experience, wonder, or imagination could be ziplocked in a little baggie and burnt. As if the putrid stench, both weedy and black as rich dirt, that acquired taste, was what made things so easy, lucky, free.

As if feeling, as if passion, was something so dense and and intense to be overwhelming for humans, that it must be merely the smoke, those shadowy remains, of it that we inhale. Feelings invoked or feelings evaded? I'd rather find this strength within myself. Why are we so inadequate as to not have all this bottled within us?

I do i do i do believe we have it. whats so wrong with finding it?
But I'm still curious to try?

But I feel alive and I feel it in me
up and up I keep on climbing
higher and higher and higher
higher and higher and higher

i think its really great when people can be honest and i think its really sad that [almost] everyone in highschool grinds.

thats like the highschool dance.

and i mean dance in two ways.

we grind into eachother with judgements and insecurities and lash out when we are feeling hurt or threatened or worthless, and get ground into a pulp by our crushing self-doubt and the weight of what we percieve others expectations to be.

And its logical to be attracted to those who seem more whole, who have this thing figured out. They arent grinding they really are dancing, dancing around the mere immaturity of it all, becuase pure pure happiness is untouchable, this joy dance where you are following your own path, own footsteps, and we all dance around eachother without pain or interference, because at this point who gives a fuck what other people do. whats the point? who really knows what they are doing right now. what youth truly knows who they are. yet how many pretend to?

and then you perfect your own dance and can reach out to others, because you no longer need to look where you are going. and then you both can dance while holding hands and touching and not hurt eachother. and that is being close and being friends and that is the type of love that i think everyone needs. the kind that lifts you out of whatever hurt youve encountered. lifts you out so much you are high enough to see how low it was down there, making fun of others. when you had no idea of yourself either. then the dance twirls you around cause its okay

what?

http://www.youtube.com/user/joeyhersh10#p/a/u/0/tPKWEb_-Z6E

Joey and i made this but you probably wont understand it unless youre in my english class

I want two cats, named Lulu and Evelyn.

Grinding your teeth in the middle of the night

With the sadness of those molars

Spend all your spare time trying to escape

With crosswords and sudoku

I havent climbed too many metaphorical trees lately. I remember being younger, and I made a written pact with my childhood soulmate (friend) that we wanted to live in trees. We mapped their scaly, sinuous arms with our relatively-infintesimal and breakable fingers, our unblemished palms so sensitive and prying, our faces scared to theirs, scarred. Cold and trembling, we decided to come back next year, when things were alive again. Though they didnt have goosebumps, the trees stood and clung in their breathes from the frost-bitten air. But we didnt hold our breath through the winter, and never visited again. And we were told those berries were poisonous by parents so i didnt eat them-- but just a couple weeks ago I found out they tasted like apples.

If I could do it again

I'd make more mistakes

I'd not be so scared of falling

If I could do it again,

I'd climb more trees

I'd pick and I'd eat more wildblackberries

I miss you

Conor Oberst: Well the fever is basically whatever ails you or oppresses you, it could be anything. In my case its my neurosis, my depression, but I dont want to be limited to that. Its certainly different for different people. Its whatever keeps you up at night

--
Radio: It is, it is. How about this Arienette, how does she fit in to all of this?
Conor: Id prefer not talk about it, in case shes listening
Radio: Oh, Im sorry, I didnt realize she was a real person
Conor: Shes not, but I made her up
Radio: Oh, so shes not real?
Conor: Just as real as you or I
Radio: I dont think I understand
Conor: Neither do I, but after I grow up I will. I mean, you know what, a lot of things are really unclear for me right now
Radio: Thats interesting. Now you mentioned your depression
Conor: No I didnt

---
Conor: Well I did have a brother who died in a bathtub . . . he drowned. Well actually I had five brothers that drowned
Radio: (Chuckle)
Conor: No, Im serious. My mother drowned one every year for five consecutive years. They were all named Padraic, and thats why they only got one song. Its kind of like walking out a door and discovering that it's a window

I really just want to be this warm yellow light that pours over everyone that I love

skyboxx '09

something about seeing the entire circumference of the world around you, that ring of boundaries and being above it, on top of plaster and plastic fenced-in, stepping on lights and hopping chain fences. why is it that doing things we aren't supposed to feels liberating? what kicks rationality in the face until we are screaming and cartwheeling, spraying up flecked beads of turf-dirt?

the prominent smell of frost tastes a little like some derisive, yet austere excitement

Think less but see it grow

Like a riot, like a riot,

I'm not easily offended

It's not hard to let it go

From a mess to the masses

why i wish i was called emma

this is pouring rain

this is paralyzed

all my love was down

in a frozen ground

this is not the sound of a new man

or a crispy realization

its the sound of the unlocking and the lift away

your love will be

safe with me

i am so in love; with you (a collective and singular you), and with this half realization of things. the tenuous, the endearing, enduring frailty. like blinking, trusting that its too bright but youll be that bright too, once acclimated. and when I took a chance on someone unexpected to give out one love unit, I got back two. Now I have two more to give out

its a start and its sometimes all we can do?

(vague, oops. )

something I read for english said it was not in human nature to expose oneself.

id like to create an army of inhumans-- humanitarians who reach inside themselves, slicing into the pulsing breaths, the veils of flaking skin, the moist and supple organs and the coiled scaly tendons and pull out their hearts for everyone to see :)

im in such a weird mood. i got my first C, in a class about what it means to be human

i dont mind being a grade C human if someday I could be something better in the kind that exposes themselves.

THEN MY parents said it was time for bed. and I asked them if me and my husband could not go to bed right now, we could go to the meadow by the golding's house, outside of nina's road and have a picnic. and then jump in that pond even though we werent supposed to. and they no its gross. and I said okay how about the pond down our road, we could ride bikes and they consented. and i asked if we could come home and eat chocolate and wine. and vivacious, utopian fruit. and they nodded. and read lots and lots and lots of books? and go out dancing? and travel? paint and paint and laugh and never stop caring, and never come to a halt?

and they laughed, but i wasnt kidding

ive been listening to too much bon iver

As of 7:22, November 6, 2009 I am officially done competing with people.

Everyone is at White Hot DEE PEE and I am locked in at home. Complain. Its weird, time passing but not really. I stayed home today and I walked outside and absolutely everything was this placid stillness. It was cold but I liked it because it wasnt a cruel cold that drills into my bones and sucks in my insides.. it was an honest cold, that burrowed into my hollows and froze thoughts into tangible and distinct ideas. Frost tastes like numb absense. The rippling wind caressed undulating leaves that threw themselves in some suicide attempt from branches and I ran around trying to catch them. But no cars drove by and I shouldve been sleeping or in school- this felt like stolen time, frozen, cold stolen time that I'd stumbled upon. I leaped into this hidden, still world and played in it and it was unresponsive, unmoved, and unchanged. When i went back inside there was clocks and time moved again and there were other animals breathing, but when I was outside.. I was the only one in the world. A burning ember amidst the frozen glacier of life, I expelled clenched fists of steam into the air with every exhale that stretched into the sky, a wispy claw. I almost ran awayayaya

my parents are cracking down. "Less blogging, more work!"

So lets get out of here

past the atmosphere...

dont cool off, i like your warmth

my insides are humming!

actually, also they are whistling like Andrew Bird's Oh No

Today could maybe be described as picking a fruit off of what looks like a grape tree but finding out it tastes like apple.

When I saw you in the hallway and you said how are you and i said good you? and you said good the next thing I said was "we are both liars." but that never actually made it out of my mouth. i kind of hate that formal kind of thing. I do actually want to know how you are doing.

My whole recent life has been consumed by filtering away my time with idleness, like slowly scraping away at the hours with a cheese grater until they lie in pieces by my feet. Then I have nothing left to scrape away so I do work until very early, by the time I think that what is it that matters in the long run? The fact that my subjects intrigue me, or if I can take a test on them? And then I go to sleep and its the most delicious thing to swim in covers and languid wave-pulses of darkness and drowsiness. But waking up in the morning is like leaving a huge pit of my head back on the pillow, and its missing all school day. my focus is alksdj

It feels like my time has recently been spent on that, and various insignificant things that dont generally inspire/pain/awe me. Indifferent. I hate that. Thats why I went a little !NS@N3 for thrifting oh'9 but seriously I needed to run really fast with no shoes on, and sing and make strange noises. And spontaneuity (sp?!) and to meet new people again, and be filled up and light-headed at the same time- because honestly I havent been doing anything lately, anything that I'm going to want to write stories about or tell my children later in life. Maybe if I wanted to sit in a grand, palatial house with sweeping halls and immaculate lawn fences, with two angel twins who bathe in wealth and advantage( They arent un-curious, they just have no reason to question.) --would I feel like I am doing anything of importance.

But I'd like to have kids who are wild things

I really wish I was called something other than Emily

Mmmmmmmmmm i think youre really great. all of you

You slide down the stairs to the eager street

And the sun is left with slippery feet

And I want to walk around with you