Clear liquor and cloudy eyed,

too early to say goodnight.

"Where words fail, music speaks."

I don't know who first said those words, but they were right. Music is a way for human beings to express how they're feeling when they don't know how to explain it, or they're afraid to, or they truly believe a song is just better than any words they could ever say. One song in particular, whose lyric I used to title this post, is a song very recently chosen by a person very special to me.

"That song was the first one that made me think of you, like, automatically. So I want it to be our song. It makes me think of you and nothing can replace that."

That boy sort of makes me really happy. He's awkward, and a total geek, and apologizes often. He's got a mind that he believes is more "terrible" than mine, though I know he's wrong. He's an avid participant in Pokemon League, and he'd love to have six hundred dollars to blow on an action figure. And I happen to enjoy every piece of him. All the awkwardness, and the ultimate geekfest I know he is.

That old man is mine. He'll be a teacher, and I'll write books, and we'll find a home in Grand Marais, away from everything and everyone. We'll dress up like comic book characters, and he'll teach me how to play Pokemon and Resident Evil. He'll change me, and I'll change him, though both will go unacknowledged. Late night conversations about nothing and everything. Watching Big Bang Theory, Scrubs and How I Met Your Mother. Scott Pilgrim [imagine Patel and his awkward hand slide and shoulder shift when reading that] and Italian food.

It will happen. Because we want it to.

^ This made me think of him.

We may be completely different, but it works for us. He makes me happy. And I've been told I make him happy. That's enough for me [: ♥

I lack the beauty you display.

"How are you?"

I don't like this question, at least when directed toward myself. I'm never too sure how to answer it. It could mean anything, really. "How are you feeling?" "How are you getting to work this morning?" "How are you painting the duck's arse with a pellet gun?" Everyone just interprets it as the first suggestion.
I wonder when people started dropping the extra word at the end of the question. And how it came about, exactly. Was someone just walking along one day when they happened upon someone the knew? And from there out began conversation, only to be interrupted at "How are you-" by someone emptying their chamber pot out the window, or by a horse relieving himself on this person's shoe. Once the commotion had subsided, the recognized person started up again with, "How am I? Well I suppose you mean 'How am I fairing?' Yes? Well, if you must know, my daughter has just run away with a TRADESMAN. Awful fellow. Quite the likes of which I've ne- Oh shite, I shan't be telling you this. The Misses will have a fit. Don't tell a soul."
You get my drift. It seems possible. Sometimes I wish to know what it would be like to live then. With the Bennetts of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, perhaps? Or with Jane Eyre, at her school, as wretched as the place was. I believe I would much prefer Longbo- I'm shutting up now. Where was I?

Sometimes I can answer those three words honestly. A simple "Good" or "Great" or "Bloody fantastic, actually." Sometimes these answers aren't so simple, and have quite a lovely story behind them. Other times, I'm just feeling uplifted for no reason whatsoever. On the other hand, it can be more difficult to respond. Be it because I honestly don't know the answer, because I'd rather not acknowledge it, or because I wish to not speak of it. Whatever the case may be, I end up feeling awkward, or defensive, or like I'm about to break. These moods can be for no reason as well. Just, out of the blue I feel miserable, or I felt like it when I woke up, or I've just had a bad day. However, they also can have a story behind them. No matter the reason, people are curious and nosy creatures, many of whom have no care for a person's privacy. I understand if you're simply curious, or genuinely concerned, but if I don't wish to tell you, then that's that. The matter should not be argued, unless I've hinted at wanting to talk about it. If I happen to not lie to you, upon hearing "How are you?" and being in an off state, then it tends to be for the sole purpose of NOT LYING. On the off chance I actually want to talk about it, I'll make it known. Everyone is so up themselves about being honest, yet when I do it on certain matters, I am berated. But then when I lie about how I'm feeling, and whoever I've lied to discovers the truth, they get brassed off again!

I don't even know anymore. Sometimes I am actually feeling fine, but then I get that.. Ominous feeling that something is going to do a 360 on me, and completely bugger up again. And it usually happens. It can be for the better, even though the experience is terrible. Or it's horrid all around. Other times, it's just crap. I won't even go there.
I think I've begun to lose the spark I had when I started writing this. I hate that. It just comes and goes as it pleases. That could really mess up my career.

Your mood is not based on the event or moment or what have you that has transpired, but on the way you view it. Your perspective.

I'd like to believe that more often. But I suppose when you've reached the stage I have, it's not as easy as it once was, eh?

You know the words, so sing along for me.

"Caps is yelling at me!"
"I'M NOT YELLING, DAMN IT!"
"YES YOU ARE. God! Oh. Happy Anniversary (:"
"SHUT UP! ... Happy Anniversary."

Six months. 26 weeks. 181 days. 4344 hours. 260, 640 minutes. Although technically, it's no longer the twenty-first. Is it just me, or does that seem like one long ass time? Of course it's not just me. He said it himself, last night. Or, rather, early this morning. And I'm happy about it. Despite some opinions on the matter, he's my boyfriend, and I love him. He makes me happy, and I'm not going to negate that just for the sake of appealing everyone else.
I liked this boy the moment I met him. And then he went and married me after five minutes? I was hooked. I hate him for it (: I really do. Ahah, and now, well, now I love him.

"I'm hopeless. I mean, I can't watch or listen to Anastasia or The Phantom of the Opera without thinking of him and tearing up. Hearing a Fiddler on the Roof song does the same thing. I refuse to take off his bracelet. He's really all I think about, and I find a way to connect everything to him. I'm in love with him."


Okay, so, breaking up with him may not have been the greatest thing for my mental health, but it helped us? At least, I think it did. Our relationship is weird. I mean, six months without seeing each other, ever? That's pretty good. My first relationship, and his longest. I don't even know? We may not talk as often as I'd like, and we never see each other, but it's him. And I wouldn't change that. We'll see each other this summer, and until then, we can make it.

And even though she doesn't believe in love, he's determined to call her bluff.
Who can deny these butterflies? They're filling his gut.

"I still have the dream sometimes. I do. I come home from the store, and find you on my doorstep with a suitcase. And not your entire wardrobe; just a carry on, a duffel bag. We don't say anything, but you have this look in your eye that kills me. It just... And I unlock the door and let you in. And that's it. That's the dream. When I wake up, I wake up happy... Vibrating for a few seconds, with my head in the sand... Content. Then it goes away, and you go away. I really don't want to get out of bed then, because it's cold out there. But I do. I get up, life goes on."

-Dakota Skye

I love you, Andrew Lee. ♥
I wish you were closer. I miss you.

The Power of a Misnomer.

In tandem with my thoughts, the address of this blog was taken directly from a Series of Unfortunate Events. How I love those books.. Lemony Snicket? Literary genius.

The Incredibly Deadly Viper.

Naturally, people assume it to be some evil monstrosity, with a cruel intent to kill without mercy. A misnomer that just so happens to be the cause of whatever may happen to the creature in the future. Human beings, though most have the brain capacity, don't properly think things over. They are swift in jumping to conclusions, pausing only to think of sex or food, money or objects, occasionally those dear to them. But usually, they think only of themselves. When introduced to a beast so magnificent, they wouldn't waste time in closely studying or actually attempting to learn about it. The name would tell them all they needed to know - or so they would believe. Society is like that. Judging solely on appearance, status, and overlooking those things that define a person. What good are bleached white teeth and pin straight hair if you have the IQ of a thumb tack and your personality leaves people begging for death? In today's world, they are your ticket to success.
Well, you know what I think? I think those pretentious, idiotic, appearance-obsessed, egomaniacs need to remove the pool cues from their asses and open their fucking eyes. No one is perfect, and no one will ever be. So her breasts are small and he lacks muscle; so she's chubby and he has acne; So.. What? What do any of those things have to do with WHO THEY ARE? "Never judge a book by its cover." You can't know a person based solely on their appearance, or their name; who they know or what they own. It's what's inside. You know what's beautiful? Happiness. Making someone smile is the best damn feeling on the planet [yes, it even tops sex]. No matter the person, that smile lights up their face, brightens their eyes, and makes them glow. In these moments, a person is more beautiful than any amount of makeup or surgery or expensive clothing could ever achieve.

So smile,
because happy looks good on you.
[: