Anarchysrioting's Weblog

Blah… stairs?

anarchysrioting — Wed, 30 Sep 2009 14:16:36 +0000

This thought is completely random. Nevertheless, I feel that it has a true basis in reality. Have you ever noticed how people take stairs? I guess it becomes somewhat of who we are, right? Like there is the macho man who takes stairs like he were fending off a tackle in a championship football game. Then there is the fail proof two stepper, walking as if they don’t have time for every other stair. Then, and most unfortunately, there is the only left foot/ only right foot stepper, making sure both feet hit every step, and linger for a good second or two. These people have entirely too much time on their hands. Seriously? Don’t you have somewhere you need to be? Personally, I prefer the left, up, right, up, stair motion. It is very metered, and very stable. People aren’t agitated when you pass them, and they don’t usually feel the need to pass you. You can slow your rhythm, if no one is behind you, or you can keep up the flow so as to not offend anyone. It is the deferent way to climb. I find it proper, yet subtle. And yet, sometimes I want to feel like dodging a tackle, or presenting my grandmother’s step. It makes me a complete hypocrite, I realize, but it is a nice change of pace from being the polite, unremitting one in the stair well.

Where have all the cowboys gone?

anarchysrioting — Fri, 24 Apr 2009 04:31:57 +0000

Here is the girl stained in saline concoctions.

nothing. no one. never.

Holding the life of the boy in her wrists.

something. someone. severed.

And here he stands watching her, breathing her.

lost things. last one. let her.

No one’s there to catch her if she cries.

bad things. bad ones. battered.

It works all the time…

nothing. no one. never.

It’s working right now…

something. someone. severed.

It never works again.

lost things. last one. let her.

Jump

Until

It

Doesn’t

Have

To

Anymore.

Don’t Bring Me Down

anarchysrioting — Mon, 22 Sep 2008 07:05:40 +0000

This weekend was fun. I am not going to lie about that. I will also not feel ashamed for thinking so. My whole life, people find faults in me, but for once, I did not back down. Yeah, four of us jumped in my brother’s jeep, and we drove to Lexington. When we got there, we turned around in a hotel parking lot and came home. The adventure was not where we went or why, it was us getting there, the prospects of getting caught coming home at 3 AM, and the chances that we had to make mischief. It was also the times that we were afraid the Jeep wouldn’t make it up the hill, the opportunity to drive to Cincinnati, and the many random comments from Alex.

Let me explain to you how this all happened. Maybe then, it won’t seem like such a big deal. There is also a good chance that it will make you angrier at me, or more spiteful than you have ever felt towards me in your life.The fact of the matter still remains that it happened and I absolutely loved every moment of it.

Saturday night, the plans were that we would go to Industrial Nightmare and maybe go to my cousin’s apartment afterward. Industrial Nightmare was not worth the $17 we paid to get in, and we were feeling pretty jipped of a thrilling time. While sitting in Dairy Queen around 10:30, we decided that we needed to do something more. After numerous prank phone calls, we decided that the night was still young and something else needed to happen.

Here is when the wheels started to turn. We drove to the gas station, purchased two 44 oz. Polar Pops, a pack of cigarettes, a full tank of gas, and some snackies, and as we drove off we pondered. As soon as the wheels hit the highway at around 11, we knew that it was just the beginning. Here, no makeup, smoke filled car, tunes blasting, I decided to shed my “good girl” persona and do some shit. I don’t think that anyone in this world knows how much I needed that, if only for one night.

We had no idea where we were going when we took off, it didn’t really matter. All that mattered was the road, the music, and the adventure. Something different needed to happen to keep me from going crazy inside myself. I don’t think people often realize how much I feel in any given moment. It is almost scary. Why else would a doctor see fit to give me crazy pills? I stopped taking them because they quelled my writing and my emotional value, but tonight was a greater high than a doctor could even hope to give me with those freaking pills. I will not go into schematics of the whole ordeal, but I will say that somewhere around Spaghetti Junction, we had decided that Lexington was the place to go.

On the way back, it did not even occur to me that I should call and let anyone know where I was. As usual, I really felt that no one would even care past their own nose about my whereabouts. How was I supposed to leave my amazing high to think that the specific night was the plausible exception? Any other night and no one would have even taken notice. So then, the only thing I had wrong was my timing, but still, I am not apologizing for it, and I refuse to let anyone make me. I don’t want to hear your excuses or your blame, all I want is to know that I let myself go for a few hours, and I actually had fun. The thrill was that there were no rules, and I think that it made it that much better. We did nothing illegal, and we still felt like we were at the top of the world. For that, I say that we deserve kudos, and shame on you for trying to make us think otherwise.

Pretending.

anarchysrioting — Mon, 28 Jul 2008 17:05:39 +0000

Go ahead an make it my fault.
I know like you that it’s not
Hurts bad to see it happen
Again and again I’m always zappin’
Thought of us as friend or foe
Pretending that I do not know
Make it out to be my fault
even though it’s all I got
I don’t want it, like you I suppose
I don’t want to wear it under my clothes
Just let me be and let it die
So never again will I want to die
Just pretend that I have failed you
And it’s so tragic what you go through.
Though it’s not I just pretend
Cause you said “Friends ’til the end”

Girl Anachronism

anarchysrioting — Tue, 15 Jul 2008 01:41:24 +0000

you can tell
from the scars on my arms
and the cracks in my hips
and the dents in my car
and the blisters on my lips
that i'm not the carefullest of girls

you can tell
from the glass on the floor
and the strings that are breaking
and i keep on breaking more
and it looks like i am shaking
but it's just the temperature
and then again
if it were any colder i could disengage
if i were any older i could act my age
but i dont think that youd believe me
it's
not
the
way
i'm
meant
to
be
it's just the way the operation made me

and you can tell
from the state of my room
that they let me out too soon
and the pills that i ate
came a couple years too late
and ive got some issues to work through
there i go again
pretending to be you
make-believing
that i have a soul beneath the surface
trying to convince you
it was accidentally on purpose

i am not so serious
this passion is a plagiarism
i might join your century
but only on a rare occasion
i was taken out
before the labor pains set in and now
behold the world's worst accident
i am the girl anachronism

and you can tell
by the red in my eyes
and the bruises on my thighs
and the knots in my hair
and the bathtub full of flies
that i'm not right now at all
there i go again
pretending that i'll fall
don't call the doctors
cause they've seen it all before
they'll say just
let
her
crash
and
burn
she'll learn
the attention just encourages her

and you can tell
from the full-body cast
that you're sorry that you asked
though you did everything you could
(like any decent person would)
but i might be catching so don't touch
you'll start believeing you're immune to gravity and stuff
don't get me wet
because the bandages will all come off

and then you can tell
from the smoke at the stake
that the current state is critical
well it is the little things, for instance:
in the time it takes to break it she can make up ten excuses:
please excuse her for the day, its just the way the medication makes her...

i dont necessarily believe there is a cure for this
so i might join your century but only as a doubtful guest
i was too precarious removed as a caesarian
behold the worlds worst accident
I AM THE GIRL ANACHRONISM

Bitter and Not Backing Down.

anarchysrioting — Fri, 13 Jun 2008 04:01:40 +0000

I must be honest here. I am very upset with the Democratic National Convention (DNC). I have never been so appalled at childish and tactless planning as I have in this election. Before you get all hot and bothered, I am not a bitter Hillary-ite. I am merely a bitter American. There is one quote out there that really burns me to the core, and I am here to tell you now that I have and will continue to voice my opinion about this statement. The statement I am referring to is one made by Presidential hopeful Barack Obama. Mr. Obama must not think about the things he says, and when people get upset, it’s not surprising then he clings to scare tactics or attacks on others mishaps or promotion of some meaningless “new-age” plan that he has no intentions of carrying out. The quote of course is this one said at his April 9^th fundraiser.

“You go into some of these small towns in Pennsylvania, and like a lot of small towns in the Midwest, the jobs have been gone now for 25 years and nothing’s replaced them. And they fell through the Clinton Administration, and the Bush Administration, and each successive administration has said that somehow these communities are gonna regenerate and they have not. And it’s not surprising then they get bitter, they cling to guns or religion or antipathy to people who aren’t like them or anti-immigrant sentiment or anti-trade sentiment as a way to explain their frustrations.”

He says that his intent was to explain the “blue collar culture” to much wealthier contributors. I believe that his true intent was to target and single out these middle class people, who were unquestionably Hillary supporters, and point out the most rash of stereotypes in order to outrage his supporters into giving more money to try and halt these practices. As a true politician knows, combative contributors are quite a bit more “giving” if they think that their offerings will end practices that they do not feel comfortable with.

Basically, it would be like Senator Obama coming to any moose lodge or local bar and saying that, “Those hippies in Californy are purty mad that those there other prezidints didn’t make theys global problems a big fuss while theys was in office. Purty much, I thank, that if the good lord had of wanted this here land to be cooler, he would have made it that way. Don’t make no difference to me, corn and tobacca are purty hearty crops. They ain’t goin’ no where. But, when they ain’t got what they wanted, they did jus’ what them tree huggers would do and they started big fancy balls and fun’raisers, and drove they big fancy cars out to some mon-u-mint and they preten’ed that they warn’t gonna give up on theys fights. What with peace rallies and such, or world hunger or whatever. Them rich folk, they ain’t got nothin’ better to do with they fancy money, shoot. I ain’t got no money for ya mister o-bam-a but I will take my new huntin’ rifle and scare ‘em up a li’l’ bit.”

You wonder why I make such a brash statement, but I am standing here now telling you that this is close to what many of those contributors from “Californy” pictured in their minds. As outrageous as you or I may think it is, for people who don’t know, it is all they have to go on. And that was the whole intent of the thing. Senator Obama wanted to scare them, into targeting people who aren’t like them as a way to explain their frustrations. Wait. I think I have heard that sentiment before. Woah. Looks to me like the intent behind this statement should insult contributors as much as it did Midwesterners.

I guess that the intent behind this rant is to explain my disgust with the political process in 2008. And I am aware that it is not just Senator Obama that is doing it. This statement was just the one that I could best relate to. I am a middle class Midwesterner, and I do not cling to “guns or religion or antipathy” when I am “bitter.” I can write in complete sentences, speak using proper grammar, and peacefully interact with people who are different. So, Mr. Obama, stick that in your juice box and suck it.

What Can It Mean?

anarchysrioting — Wed, 28 May 2008 03:20:12 +0000

As I logged on to my computer this evening, I couldn’t help but read the celebrity gossip on the AOL homepage. But then, I began to get angry at the tabloid press. Around me, I bid a final adieu to the foreigners I love so dearly, an old man down the street passes away, and with the rise in cost of nearly everything, people are starting to sink. Surely the fact that Carrie Underwood doesn’t need a boyfriend, is purely coincidental. At time like these, I wonder if everything that we do is just an illusion. Life as we know it may just be a cheap theatrical trick, and the curtain could drop on us any minute. It could very possibly be too dangerous and chancy to creep near the edge of the stage. If you plowed right over the edge, it would be a moderate embarrassment to yourself and those around you. But then I have to think about what chancy things I have done that have lead to a standing ovation. Maybe those count for something. Maybe they don’t. I guess that either way, everything is just a part of the script. I am hoping that no one else gets written out for awhile because it is extremely hard to say goodbye and even harder to move on with an empty space on the stage. As things move closer into perspective, I think I notice how vaguely superficial it really is. It is saddening to say, but I think it may be easier to cope with it being that way because exploring the unknown is too hard to imagine. So congratulations Carrie Underwood, good luck Laura and Marcello, things will work out for you struggling families, and Bill, this is your final curtain call. Thank you dearly for sticking with me through this dramatic monologue (Wow, I actually learned something from Mr. Rowe.). And please refrain from smoking and flash photography during the production as these actions may result in an unpleasant interruption to my life. Haha. That is quite awkward to think about from this perspective. Anyway, I hope that I am close to an intermission. I am well overdue for one. Give me 15, and I’ll be ready to give it all I got once again.

Why?

anarchysrioting — Sun, 18 May 2008 22:50:45 +0000

~Martin and Laura, I don’t think I know how to say goodbye knowing that it may be final.~

Those foreign exchange students have become some of my best friends. We have shared some of the most memorable times together. There was the time we had the New Year’s Party, and no one can forget Alan’s Bat Mitzvah. All of Morgan’s birthday presents and parties. And Lucas ‘Swively Arm Motions’ Hobson’s 71st. All the moment we laughed were never wasted. And all the times we fought, I wish I could take them back. It has been one hell of a year. The movie projects, the nights we tore up the town, Hobson’s spit on Laura’s shoulder, Martin’s ripped pants. Mike’s mustaches, Brian’s incessant laughter, Lydia’s trips to the hospital, Alan’s crazy antics, Morgan’s birthdays, the Rambo party, the movie nights, the bowling, prom, teaching Alan how to dance, Thriller, Don Pablo’s, Horner Novelty. They were the greatest moments of my life. But I can’t help but feel that I have only watched. From a distance I observed lives being lived and memories being made. As I make my way back into the shadows, I must try and remain calm and unaffected as usual, but this is making it so hard. I can’t stand the thought of coming back to school next year without those foreigners at our side. It won’t ever be the same without you. I think that I can speak for everyone when I say that we will never forgive and most certainly not forget these moments. As our time winds down, I just want all of you to know how much I have cherished each and every moment we have shared. Nothing can replace the feeling you have made me feel. I don’t want to let you all go, though I know that now is the time for us all to fly. If I have tears, now is the time to make them known. We cannot all go on remembering for the rest of our lives, but instead, we can embody the people and things we have come to know and love. I will make sure to share a few more laughs because of Martin and Laura. I will let my hair down, but make it perfect for Laura. And I will eventually get around to giving that extended Lord of the Rings to Martin. I think I have learned more about myself this year than I realize. I have decided that it is most certainly okay to be outrageous, even when people are watching. It is okay to let someone know that you care about them because that is what we all should do for everyone’s sake. If this should be the last time you may hear or see from me again, I hope that this will find you okay. Every time you look at it, I hope that you are well and in a good place. I hope that you are happy and that everything is working out for you. Please keep in touch from time to time. In life, it is hard to do, but I hope that we never lose touch.

I thank you for your time and laughs. It’s been fun,

Love, Cyndi

Every Moment Defines Her!

anarchysrioting — Fri, 16 May 2008 01:52:50 +0000

Let’s talk about Cyndi
Glad that people could be so ignorant.
She is not your friend,
She is not your enemy,
She is herself…
in her own image.
Not fake, not pretending
She doesn’t hate.

She is an artist striving.
There is no struggle.
She is happy and beautiful.
Every moment defines her.
Every moment destroys her.
No matter what people want to think.
Words can hurt, but her soul is torn enough.

Wasting away the tatters on meaningless things.
She must be alone with herself.
She must wait for herself to catch up.
She must think of every word carefully.
She must wish good things for bad people.

She must not think ill thoughts.
She must be who she is meant to be.
She cannot falter.
She cannot let anything slip.

Every word is a deeper curse on her sanity.
Every moment defines her.
Every moment destroys her.
And they sit by and laugh.
Every laugh kills her.
She is dying.
Dying from the soul out.

She does this to herself.
She brings this upon herself.
She wishes she knew how or why.
She wishes she knew anything.

She is a drifter.
Walking alone in silence.
Every moment defines her.
Every moment destroys her.

This is my poem to myself. All rights should be confined to Stargirl. That is me. That is who I make myself out to be. Please try and understand. I think I know what suicide letters really mean. You must believe me when I say that I really don’t want to.