Every year I do a little recap at the end of December to see what I was up to for the last 12 months, but 2013 doesn't need one.
Also this might be a good time to start paying my final respects to this blog. It's been my rock all through high school, but lately, I've become such an introvert that I can't let anything out. I don't know, I might use this randomly, but it's safe to say it's just not what it used to be for me anymore.
I sit here with one sock on and one sock off.
xx The Same Old Dead Boy's Song Sung In Silence Marz
Monday, December 30, 2013
Monday, December 9, 2013
JUST FINISHED BOOK FEELS
Wow.
I just finished Brothers to the Death, which is the last book in the Larten Crepsley saga. I just... wow. The story of his life before he met Darren was just amazing. So much love, loss, blood, adventures, and relationships. It's no wonder he's a grumpy, solemn vampire.
It was so exciting learning about the other vampires, like Gavner and Arra. I got all excited when Kurda was mentioned because TIMETRAVELPLOTTWISTCHARACTER. Wester was an interesting character and I knew he'd die because there's no mention of him in CDF and the book's title alluded to him probably dying... but I think I lost my shit on the last few pages, when Mr. Crepsley inherited Madame Octa and began performing with her. Then he sees Steve and Darren and realized that the two boys in the audience would change his life forever.
Just... so many feelings. Cirque du Freak is definitely the best series I've ever read and having a prequel series featuring one of my favorite fictional characters of all time was an absolute joy. I'm SO excited to get my first six books in so I can reread the series and enjoy the magic again. The rush I get from reading those books just fills me with excitement and obsession. I wish I knew someone who's read them so that I could gush with someone other than myself!
MR CREPSLEY, EVEN IN DEATH MAY YOU BE TRIUMPHANT!
xx The Blood In My Vampire Heart Marz
Thursday, November 28, 2013
Hello Blogger, My Old Friend
I've come to talk to you again, because a bad mood softly creeping left its funk while I was almost sleeping...
Nah but for real blog, hey. You're like a sweatshirt that's at the bottom of the pile, but still smells clean. You're like a five year old that remembers everything. Like the perfect, most nonjudgmental friend. I guess I haven't been keeping up with you because I've been seeking happy nights to happy days.... nah, this isn't Shakespeare. If it was, I'd probably be coming close to the end of my time.
A blog, diary, journal, whatever, is a special place where I like to write in when I'm completely alone and don't have the anxiety of someone asking me what I'm typing. This guy has been here for me so often... It's funny, because while I'm typing this, I'm sitting on the floor of my old bedroom, exactly where my bed used to be about five or six years ago and exactly where I'd be blogging. Things kind of feel the same... the same posters, a few pieces of the same furniture, and that goddamn Christmas tree.
I don't know what I'm getting at. I guess I feel flat and empty, kind of hopeless, kind of dreading something, a weird burning hole in my stomach, comfort eating, lack of desire to talk to anyone... nothing new. Like I know I've been cycling pretty rapidly the last few weeks, but DAMN. I'm ready for a break back to a few weeks of things being generally good. More on the middle-up side of the scale. Not this crappy shit end of the scale.
What are my character flaws? I'm jealous and selfish, an attention-seeker, a praise-seeker, lazy and inverted, snarky, bitter, silently critical, constantly questioning, general disdain for anyone appearing overly cheerful.
I need to paint now. I've been needing to paint since about 11. What a familiar setting: my bedroom, and a painting of a stormy ocean with a girl on a rock. It's comfortable, easy to relate to, and not totally provocative. Time to dig deep into the blue memory, where sirens resound, to be tucked in beneath the blue, the pain, beneath the rain.
xx Lonely Soul, Ocean Soul Marz
Nah but for real blog, hey. You're like a sweatshirt that's at the bottom of the pile, but still smells clean. You're like a five year old that remembers everything. Like the perfect, most nonjudgmental friend. I guess I haven't been keeping up with you because I've been seeking happy nights to happy days.... nah, this isn't Shakespeare. If it was, I'd probably be coming close to the end of my time.
A blog, diary, journal, whatever, is a special place where I like to write in when I'm completely alone and don't have the anxiety of someone asking me what I'm typing. This guy has been here for me so often... It's funny, because while I'm typing this, I'm sitting on the floor of my old bedroom, exactly where my bed used to be about five or six years ago and exactly where I'd be blogging. Things kind of feel the same... the same posters, a few pieces of the same furniture, and that goddamn Christmas tree.
I don't know what I'm getting at. I guess I feel flat and empty, kind of hopeless, kind of dreading something, a weird burning hole in my stomach, comfort eating, lack of desire to talk to anyone... nothing new. Like I know I've been cycling pretty rapidly the last few weeks, but DAMN. I'm ready for a break back to a few weeks of things being generally good. More on the middle-up side of the scale. Not this crappy shit end of the scale.
What are my character flaws? I'm jealous and selfish, an attention-seeker, a praise-seeker, lazy and inverted, snarky, bitter, silently critical, constantly questioning, general disdain for anyone appearing overly cheerful.
I need to paint now. I've been needing to paint since about 11. What a familiar setting: my bedroom, and a painting of a stormy ocean with a girl on a rock. It's comfortable, easy to relate to, and not totally provocative. Time to dig deep into the blue memory, where sirens resound, to be tucked in beneath the blue, the pain, beneath the rain.
xx Lonely Soul, Ocean Soul Marz
Saturday, November 2, 2013
Happy Halloween
Sometimes things can be magical. When I wear my ren dress, I AM a princess. I revel in the fact that my skirts flutter around me when I walk and that my hands are covered in frills. Even walking from my car to the apartment is like a walk across vast palace gardens, or a palazzo just for me.
That dress isn't just a dress. It takes me to a happier place where windmills are giants and everyone knows how to dance at lavish feasts. No one dances anymore; isn't that a shame?
Ahhhh. Wouldn't it be nice if dreams came true? Sometimes things can be magical.
xx And I Kissed His Cold White Brow Marz
That dress isn't just a dress. It takes me to a happier place where windmills are giants and everyone knows how to dance at lavish feasts. No one dances anymore; isn't that a shame?
Ahhhh. Wouldn't it be nice if dreams came true? Sometimes things can be magical.
xx And I Kissed His Cold White Brow Marz
Saturday, October 5, 2013
Tom And I Have Something In Common
Well. Tom and I have something in common. Bring on the castles and kings, musicals and monologues, accents and... warm fuzzy feelings.
Cosplay vs Studio Art vs Where Am I
Hello blog, you look a little dusty. Let me clean you off and show you a good time. I haven't been blogging allll that much due to general life and always being busy. Like there's always something to do and never a single moment when I can stop and go, "Yeah, I don't have anything to do right now."
So lately I've been trying to focus all my time and thought to my paintings and metals projects. When I'm not slaving away on those, I'm cleaning something. The kitchen never is finished. There's always a lot of dishes left to do, especially between the broken dishwasher and just how many dishes seem to get used in a night. I guess I've been playing the part of the average art student...
But then there are nights when I hang out at Heather and Sumner's and I go back into cosplay mode because, well, they're in it 80% of the time. I miss being able to do that. I miss being able to browse fabric and style wigs and glue things together and just work. And yet when I devote a lot of my time to cosplay, I get sad that I'm not devoting as much time to personal art. It's like I can never win.
And while all that's going on, everyone is going batshit crazy and I'm having mood swings out the wazoo and the world is falling apart and I'm constantly reminded that I'm the destroyer of our universe. I managed to do the one thing I wasn't supposed to do and am eternally a piece of shit for ruining everything. Everything is my fault and there's no amount of repentance I could ever possibly do to make up for it.
I remember going to confession twice in my life. Once, I was really young and had nothing to confess before my First Communion. The second time, I did something that upset my parents (Might have been lying or disrespect), and I remember sitting in that weird room between the narthex and the sacristy with Deacon Phil. I have no memory of what we even talked about, but I remember staring at the box of tissues and hearing him tell me to say five Hail Marys and think on my sins. Now of course, none of this has any real significance since I don't have a Catholic bone in my body, but the idea remains. All I had to do to atone for those sins were to say a few words and automatically my sins were lifted. But what am I supposed to do now?
There are no magic words or imaginary people to pretend to wash my troubles away. It's all on me. Do I live out my life in shame and guilt? Do I accept it and push it away? Do I accept it and keep it floating around? None of that matters, because none of them are the correct answer. The more I think about these problems, the more terrified I get and the more open I am to escapes that I don't want. I don't hate myself for doing it, but I do hate myself for hurting the most important person in my life.
So lately I've been trying to focus all my time and thought to my paintings and metals projects. When I'm not slaving away on those, I'm cleaning something. The kitchen never is finished. There's always a lot of dishes left to do, especially between the broken dishwasher and just how many dishes seem to get used in a night. I guess I've been playing the part of the average art student...
But then there are nights when I hang out at Heather and Sumner's and I go back into cosplay mode because, well, they're in it 80% of the time. I miss being able to do that. I miss being able to browse fabric and style wigs and glue things together and just work. And yet when I devote a lot of my time to cosplay, I get sad that I'm not devoting as much time to personal art. It's like I can never win.
And while all that's going on, everyone is going batshit crazy and I'm having mood swings out the wazoo and the world is falling apart and I'm constantly reminded that I'm the destroyer of our universe. I managed to do the one thing I wasn't supposed to do and am eternally a piece of shit for ruining everything. Everything is my fault and there's no amount of repentance I could ever possibly do to make up for it.
I remember going to confession twice in my life. Once, I was really young and had nothing to confess before my First Communion. The second time, I did something that upset my parents (Might have been lying or disrespect), and I remember sitting in that weird room between the narthex and the sacristy with Deacon Phil. I have no memory of what we even talked about, but I remember staring at the box of tissues and hearing him tell me to say five Hail Marys and think on my sins. Now of course, none of this has any real significance since I don't have a Catholic bone in my body, but the idea remains. All I had to do to atone for those sins were to say a few words and automatically my sins were lifted. But what am I supposed to do now?
There are no magic words or imaginary people to pretend to wash my troubles away. It's all on me. Do I live out my life in shame and guilt? Do I accept it and push it away? Do I accept it and keep it floating around? None of that matters, because none of them are the correct answer. The more I think about these problems, the more terrified I get and the more open I am to escapes that I don't want. I don't hate myself for doing it, but I do hate myself for hurting the most important person in my life.
Monday, August 26, 2013
Busy Week!
So mobile blogging is a paaaaiinnn. I can't wait to have real internet! It's gonna be a busy week, since I have Crow stuff to do tomorrow, and I'm not sure what Tuesday is, but Wednesday is the first day of junior year! I feel so done, yet so behind. I still need to unpack my life here at the apartment!
What's life been like? It's been nightly hangouts with Heather, Sumner, and Dorian. Like three nights in a row now. I'm not complaining, cause we have fuuunnnnn. Asylum is a fantastic show! I'm so excited to watch it end tomorrow.
What's life been like... I've had more daily mood cycling versus weekly cycling, which I'm not sure is good or bad. I guess it's bad in the sense that smaller things throughout the day set me off, but can also pick me up just the same. I've noticed a lot of weird ticks too, like moving my fingers weird and having strangely spaced out thoughts. Not to mention my stomach is horribly upset. It makes me hungry, but I can only eat a little bit, and so I never get a full meal really. Womp womp.
Although I have gotten really good at weeding out the ridiculous thoughts versus the rational ones. Basically, I just ask myself if mom would have said what I just thought and if it's a yes, then I need to look at the rational version of the thought! Easy trick that keeps me from turning crazy :P
It's 4:21 am and I'm wide awake. This can't be good!
xx Your Past Is So Familiar Marz
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