Break Fest 2004

Memorial Day is a time to remember, and a time to break as many things with a sledgehammer as you can! Witness the adventures of Diana, Sara, and Sara's brother at...

MEMORIAL DAY RAMPAGE!

Enjoy.

I was kind of mugged today

We all reacted differently afterwards.

Max, who had been the most level headed of all of us, went back down the street and chased after a cop car in the attempt to flag it down. Slightly stunned but sensible Andy stood in the shaded corner and held out his cell phone, pondering outloud whom to call after such an event. I remained where I was, eyeing the ground and trying to soak up what had happened.

Andy and I ran after Max and found him a block away. The police in the car had either failed to notice Max waving and chasing after them, or they simply felt they had better things to do. Maybe they were headed to Krispy Kreme.

The three of us walked together silently; I gripped Max’s hand tightly. The initial and lingering shock was enough to put me out of sorts, but the whole affair had also left me very confused. I had gotten into the dangerous habit of always thinking the best of people. Maybe that’s why I just couldn’t understand why anyone would do such a thing.

At least, I kept reminding myself, we were all okay. Max lost $20.. I only lost $4, but no one got hurt. I wanted to believe that everything was fine.

But it wasn’t. The innocence of downtown was shattered in those few tense minutes. The buildings, once interesting and welcoming, all turned shades of unsympathetic gray. The streets were dirty, sunlight tinted, roadways busy with indifferent cars. I became suspicious of every stranger and weary of every alley.

We passed a park; I eyed the green grass with cold mistrust. Suddenly we were in front of Powell’s Technical Books.

"Well?" Max asked.

Well indeed. What was there to be done? The attempt to chase the police had failed, Max couldn’t get a hold of the Portland Sheriff (apparently they don’t feel it’s necessary to be available on Saturdays), so what could we really do about it?

I wandered blankly around the aisles of books, still gripping Max’s hand and staring at the floor. I sniffed, looked away, and bit my lip. Don’t cry don’t cry there’s nothing to cry about. Don’t.

I couldn’t help it. Besides being somewhat upset about the whole thing, I was also very emotionally vulnerable at this time… I leaned my head into Max’s shirt and cried. We stayed outside the bookshop for what seemed a very long time. He held me tight and I felt safe.

Andy said he had wanted to go to the regular Powells’. We headed that way and I stayed silent, replaying the scene over and over again in my head.

I had so many ideas of what I couldhave done. I shouldhave done something. But no, when Sara gets mugged she cries at the hobo. Behold my power! I tried to swallow my regret down my dry throat.

None of us were really interested in looking at books. We walked through the rooms to an empty space and leaned against the window.

I don’t know what I would do differently. Max had the good idea of pretending not to know English.. I attempted to convince myself that the whole ordeal had been worth it because I would know what to do next time. Even if it was, it still ruined my day and outlook on Portland.

Poetic Musings on a Friday

My head against the cold glass,
rain, wind, hail, sun: pass
in cycle.

Watched sunlight dance on trees, swayed in breeze
upon the leaves of golden spring and far off tastes
of summer.

Blue sky met with darker clouds, covering all with
distant shrouds that match
the temper of our day.

The rain washes away all that would hide the
removed feelings fenced inside. Constant rain that spatters.
Chatter, we chatter; nothing’s the matter.

Hailstones shatter! Their attempt to crack
the ground fails, leaving only melted trails of anger and
destruction.

Silence
as the sky attempts to heal pain with the slow and
calming, gentle rain.
Drops streak down the window. I watch the stream
running to the bottom of the hill.

All seems still. Quiet too,
while hugging knees against my chest and waiting.
Wind blows restless as I clear my mind of sorrows. Pressing
for tomorrow. The sky waits for no one.

I wait for the sun.

Under the Stair

I got home, kicked off my shoes, and fell onto my bed. I lay there looking out the bright window. Suddenly there was a flash of orange and white movement in the corner. I got up and walked closer.

Ahah! I had been right, the stray cat living under the stairs was pregnant! There, playing on the steps, were three new kittens: one black, one gray, the third the orange and white one. They turned and looked at me before slinking back under.

So now I have three babies below and the little birds above.

My dad is trying to think of ways to "take care of them." He’s been taking away the food.. and.. well, I’ve been sneaking it back out. It’s not fair to let the mommy and baby cats starve! Humans are the reason she’s a stray in the first place. I’ll even start buying food for them if that’s what it takes. I just don’t want him shipping them off to the Humane Society; it’s crowded enough there already.

The orange and white one is named Pippin.

Scattered Sunbreaks

Eyes downward quickly, then out the window at the green grass. The horrible piercing feeling went away as quickly as it had come. I don’t get that feeling often. Usually it’s there when I’m about to get hit by a car or remember I forgot my ten page report at home. That terrible, deep feeling of dread or resentment.

Sigh. I wouldn’t let it get to me, I decided, then noted with dread that it already was. I looked out again at the sky and smiled sadly. I knew more about people than I let on, I liked it that way. It gave me the opportunity to appear innocent and seemly. At least.. that’s what I hoped.

I flicked my tongue on the roof of my mouth and laughed. I sat there with the usual placid smile and unfocused eyes, dreaming away; fingering the edges of my german test. Diana’s haircut was really cute.

Ring. Bridget walked silently away as usual. I said nothing, eyeing the brown and tan floor tiles while Bryan walked on towards Math. TIme for physics.

But firsts: “SARA!” It was Max, hot and tired from his journey to the bank. He rushed, trying to fill me in on the story, I listened and smiled, disbelieving he would actually remove his tinted glasses before entering a bank. But then, better safe than a terrorist.

We had to part soon. Physics came and went and I hoped into the car for a lovely orthodontist appointment.

The technician who always does my check ups is a nice, middle-aged women with long blond hair and wonderful cheekbones. She said she had been considering me for a councilor position for her camp.

“What kind of camp?”

She explained it was a one week camp for kids with muscular dystrophy. I needed to go to the main office in Portland for an interview.

“I’ll think about it.”

On the one hand, I think it would be a really great experience. But on the other, I’m really busy this summer with four other camps I need to run. And, surprising to my “oh so open minded” self, I was a little scared about it. I decided I would think about it and do some research.

Back to layout. Can’t say I did much. Can’t say I ever.

Afterwards there was the annual Drama Banquet. Good times caking Greg in the face. A fine tradition!

And that was the day. Tomorrow I get another one!

Muffled Meditation

A weary sigh and dispirited dropping of the head privately conformed her defeat. The constant clashing of two wheels that no longer fit together had brought her spirits down enough, and she couldn’t see a way to make them work like they used to. The responses were unusually curt today; they made her feel stupid and unsympathetic. She looked down and pressed her lips together firmly, not letting the feelings sink in.

In a way it was a relief, but not a clean braking away like she sometimes wanted. Then, as usual, she felt guilty and selfish. There were some things, she decided, that you couldn’t simply cut off. Maybe you just need to sacrifice a part of yourself to make things a little better... it wouldn't be that bad.. she hoped.

This quiet philosophical introspective couldn’t hold her attention for long. Either that or she was simply tired of thinking of it

She glanced at her cuticles and imagined getting a manicure with her boyfriend. A slow, wry smile came across her face and she thought no more of the troubles beside her.

The sky was so blue that day, she couldn’t help but glance longingly outside and dream of the soon to come days of summer. With luck the layout was survivable, though as of late the most trying tasks were usually not the paper. The soft-spoken boy had described his methods for picking locks, but now he was gone. She bid goodbye to her friends, crossed the street, and had some cake.

Aftertaste

I felt a strong devotion to the talking tortoise as well as the strange ninja boy who attacked me. He had some interesting things to say about racism. It all worked out in the end though, the three of us went to Burger King for lunch. What an odd, odd dream..

I woke up feeling the need to sleep for several more hours. It was already noon though. I sluggishly stepped out of my horribly messy room, puckering my lips at the aftertaste of too many chocolate-covered strawberries and cheap punch. I didn’t feel too good. Physically very sick; mentally very worried.

Prom was fun the night before, I decided. Though, the quality of the dancing was definitely questionable. Nevertheless, I got to see Cauthers "get’n his grove on." The fact I needed more sleep was clearly visible.

My hair looked interesting though.

I had thirty minuets before I had to go to my cousin’s "Scrapbook Party" at 12:40. All I really wanted to do today was drink water, take aspirin, sleep, and clean my room. No such luck! Time to pick up other cousin in Oregon City: Jessica.

For some odd reason my aunt thought it would be best to take the "scenic route" to Beaverton. That’s an hour in her old van, driving down the twisty backroads. Gaaah, more sickness! Good thing I have a strong stomach. Ah well, we arrived in one piece after all.

The party turned out to be okay. I started my scrapbook (something I’ve always meant to do) and ordered some stuff for later. It was good times with more strange punch.

I don’t want to go to school tomorrow. We have layout. The advisor didn’t seem satisfied enough with simply changing the entire structure of the class, now she wants to make it twelve pages long! Meh.

My "weird feeling" about last week never really amounted to anything, so I won’t taking any feelings about this one too seriously. But if I die I’m leaving my Weird Al CD’s to Cody.

Donkey Pie Thing

Her apparent tone of constant disapproval, mixed with annoyed glances and bitter mutterings, does little to help. I hadn’t noticed any conspicuous slide into this state, but perchance it was there from the beginning. Whatever the case, I know without doubt that the strings are beginning to break and by now it is inevitable that I’ll spill everything. Either that or run away to live as a nomad. I’ve always liked the wilds of Mt. Rainier..

Head drooping over the keyboard, I listened to Cat Stevens going on steadily in the background. Max told me our new plans to go to Iceland. That sounded like an A-OK plan to me. Iceland seems like a nice enough place. Mud baths, sheep, hydrogen, what else do I need? Sometimes I forget about his quixotic personality. I suppose I should have been reminded when he got that banjo. Maybe we will go to Iceland after all… then I could get a tan!

Today I witnessed what some might call: the greatest display of gullibility the world has ever known. Avery was actual lead to believe that I stole an apple crisp off of the "saddle on a wandering donkey" and then decided to serve it to my friends. What a strange boy.. he still thinks that really happened too.

Whatever will I wear to prom? I have two days to decide! Fun fun fun! Now I will sleep and wake to another day. Mmm, Cat Stevens…


Morning has broken, like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for the springing fresh from the world
Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven
Like the first dewfall, on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where his feet pass
Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God's recreation of the new day

Mundane Monday

Dear Diary,

I woke up very early this morning with the complaint that my dreams were too boring. This is the second time this has happened. I’ll be floating along in dreamland when suddenly I lose all interest and decide it might be more fun to wake up. Not true. But because I wasn't totally awakeh, I was able to start another dream (much nicer, I assure you) and go back to sleep.

This can only mean one thing: the boringness of life has finally leaked into my unconscious! My oh my! Whatever will I do?

How about I carry Max’s new banjo to school? This banjo was like an anchor. A light anchor, awkward to carry, useless for holding your boat still, and stupid to look at. Although, I suppose the main difference between an anchor and a banjo is that you usually tie a string to an anchor before throwing it off a boat.

Why do I hate banjos? The world will never know. Why won’t my hair stay straight? There’s a connection in there somewhere.

I wondered how long I could take it. Just "it" in general. How long can I take this stupid LA work? How long can I stand her always talking to me in that tone? How long can I poke Bryan before he kills me? Well, I know for sure that I cannot take much more of not doing anything at all.

My cats must have done something bad today. I got home and heard a curious clicking noise from the back deck, as suspected it was Chirpity the neighborhood leader of the squirrels. Goodness me, was he ever angry. He was clucking at the cats for an hour! They got a little annoyed, as did I. I don’t know what they did though. I tried to convince Chirpity to be my new pet, but he shook his head and kept on chirping. Stupid squirrel. I bet he plays the banjo.

Remember when it rained

Last day of working Box Office. I thought the recent graffiti would be enough destruction to the restrooms of the auditorium, but I was mistaken. Some sick jackasses had taken a shit on the floors of both the men and women’s bathrooms. Grossest. Thing. Ever.

Andy, Quinn, and Karren cleaned it up. Bleh, that’s so dumb though. I just can’t understand it.

Nevertheless the show must go on, and it did. After counting all da moneys I went over and helped in concessions. It was pretty fun; running back and forth to fetch things is a personal hobby of mine.

Later, when Quinn had turned off all the lights in the building, Andy and I stood in the hallway by the Black Box. The cast was finishing up a little awards ceremony. We waited, him by the stairs and I in the little crevice... and then...

“RARRR!!!” I jumped out in front of some freshman from the cast.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!”

And thus we found a fun new game! It didn’t last long though, only two rounds until everyone knew we were hiding.

Life Goals

Oh Cipher, I did hate you but your words stuck to me forever: ignorance is bliss. Oh, but woe to the young and hopelessly curious. I can’t blame that for my slight does of unhappiness, more so my own hypocritical behaviors. Ah well, tis the way of things.

I think I’ve got it figured out though. When I used to worry I also used to be smarter! Yes, thinking is the real enemy. Stupid logic, reason.. all of them! THEY’RE ALL AGAINST ME!

Besides going crazy some more, I also fell down and slid across the floor while jumping today. I knew I shouldn’t have gone to 5’6” so fast! It was pain, and now I’ve taken a break to train and.. recover. Let’s see, something about... oh! That’s right! Goals!

I’ve recently been achiving so many of my life goals at once (sunglasses, jumping over people, contacts), it’s time to set some more!

1. Run more than a mile.. in one day
2. Fill the school roof with Mr. Bubble once it rains
3. Buy coca butter
4. Buy coca
5. Make chocolate
6. Get a job
7. Do something with my hair

That looks good for now. Afterall, I do have until I die. But now I should focus on my imidate goal of doing some Shizno News.

¡Salto o muere!

What could be more fun than hearing about Langly’s undying obsession for Beyers? Why, people jumping of course! This great sport is destined to catch on and soon be added to the 2004 Summer Olympics!

Note to self: stop eating so much sugar

Unmistakably the method of launching yourself over an other’s head is difficult but very thrilling. Why, I was just speaking with Mulder today about my love for jumping off things. But now I have an even better hobby, JUMPING OVER/ON THINGS! Even the nonsensical love affairs of the Lone Gunman can’t compete with the joy this brings me! A sort of joy matched only by the extreme pain of landing on my bare toes and/or bottom.

I must train some more though. Ouch. As of now I have gone over short people, the "tallest" being around 5’5".

Note to self: start making more sense. Better sense than sugar? Or.. maybe…. Better cents for sugar! … gravy.

In other news: I thought about walking out of physics today, but I didn’t. Certain people were being mad as usual, not the favorable sort either. Oh well, I’m glad I’ve come to sorts with these things. You can’t change people, you can only change yourself.

Tomorrow Mr. Naso is coming to give me a million dollars, or something like that. Alls I know is that I have to go in early, walking tentatively on my sore toes with each step of the journey.

I miss doing fun things spontaneously. *sniff* I used to live to be spontaneous.

Hmmm..

Are you supposed to feel something when you hear your name? Lately I’ve been experiencing a loss of recognition for it. The same feeling seems to be following me, but I don’t quite think it’s anything to be upset about it. Ahaha! That’s just it, you see? I don’t especially get upset about anything, at least not for very long. I can’t stop pushing ahead; past events hold no interest to me.

Undoubtedly memories are nice to reflect on when nothing else is happening, but I feel so apart from events that, apparently, should trouble me. Is it apathy? Hmm, no, I think it’s just a resolve to not worry about things and people I just can’t change.

The whole process of watching a pet die.. well, I thought back in the day I would totally break down or something. Indeed, the whole lack of lasting emotion was the real surprise. I did feel grief, but moved on very quickly, holding onto memories of the good times with them.

Am I a bad person to be like that? Should I strive to weigh down my thoughts with troubles of the past? Doesn’t sound like too much fun to me. If anyone thinks I should they will just have to say something about it. But they won’t, you know why? Because no one ever says what they want others to stop doing!! Seriously, I’m getting rather sick of this round-a-bout routine in conversation! Indications of wants, no direct requests. I can’t deal with indirect statements, I’m not smart enough.

Besides that recent quandary of the semi-philosophical ideals, I’ve been pretty good. No cartwheels though..


Sitting here

Wishing on a cement floor

Just wishing that

I had just something you wore

I’d put it on when I get lonely

Will you take off your shirt

And send it to me?

Narcolepsy

Dear Log,

Abnormal circumstances have disallowed the usual ration of sleeping hours. As a result I am experiencing unusual mood swings and periods of insanity. More than the usual insanity, I should note, at least... 36% more.

The brother speculates it is caused by a recent withdrawal phase from my beloved caffeine. Whatever the reason, it’s beginning to worry me.

Nothing “bad” has really happened because of it, but I do involuntarily scream whenever the phone rings. My speech velocity has tripled and my sentences are often interrupted by haphazard thoughts or worse, musical outbursts.

I bury myself in Max’s arms, fearing the loss of further sanity. As for the real cause, I can speculate but still believe it is magnified by the lack of rest. But I’m not tired. Whenever I try to sleep I think of all the other things I could be doing... drawing.. painting my toenails..

Gah. Headache. I think I’ll go to sleep. Hmm.. hehehe. Wow.


In other news: I've seen a few moths around, I hope they aren't investing my house. My degus have been busy with a new project: building a nest. They must have gone crazy too. *_*

Coffee at Night

The sun was beginning to set. I had just finished vacuuming all the rooms downstairs, finishing off the cleaning session by giving my degus a nice dust bath.

I wanted to get some coffee though, so my sister and I went out to NW 23rd in Portland, the time was 8:30.

There was an unusually high amount of cars there; we had to park two blocks down and three over from the Starbucks. But, as expected, there was a biker gang outside the coffee shop too. I wonder why they’re always there! I was about to ask.. but I went inside instead.

Mmm, caffeine. Turns out my sister is going out with some guy named Cedric. I know, it sounds like he’s a gargoyle with that kind of name. Or at least some other mystical creature. Wait.. Cedric? That’s it! The guy who died in Harry Potter! I wonder if Cedric knows Ebert…

Anywho, I was feeling jazzed up from the frappichino (and it was my favorite time of day: night). The wind was warm so we started walking down the street. There were some interesting characters out this evening, my personal favorite being the Celtic street band and creepy old man. We kept walking….

"I wonder where we are…"
"I dunno! Let’s keep running! Hey! You want to have a race?!?!"
"…blah blah blah, Cedric.."

The moon was bright and there was this weird ring around it. Creepy. I suspected that Cedric was most likely a vampire. I wondered what it would be like to meet Cedric, my sister said he was unusually quiet. He probably lived a double life.. as a vampire.

I had never been to this part of town before. There was something quite creepy about it though. In an alley I saw and open door with a shadowed stairway inside, it gave me the jibblies.

We decided it was time to turn back. Everything was going fine.. the pleasant white lights on the trees returned and the dog-walking people of 23rd returned. Then we had to turn down the side street……. And there it was. THE SCARIEST HOUSE EVER! I didn’t notice it right away, it being so dark. Suddenly my sister grabbed a hold of my sleeve and pointed.

"Why is.. that.. that house is so creepy!"
"Waaa! Why does it look like a barn??"

Frightening! I didn’t have the courage to take a picture with the camera phone, we ran away instead.

My sister was getting really tired driving home, so I offered to drive for awhile. I was doing a pretty good job with the clutch and gears until I reached the drive way.. REEEEEEEEEEEEEECHHHHHBOOM! Mmm, nothing beats the smell of burning tires.