When I was in high school I wrote a zine
Those of you that knew me may or may not remember it. It was called S.P.O.R.E.S. An acronym that stood for nothing. Anyhoo, I was browsing through my word documents and I found some stuff that I wrote another zine that I was going to begin putting out post-S.P.O.R.E.S that I never finished. Here's a dismal piece of teen angst...although I just turned 20 when I wrote it. What the fuck happened to the 5 years in between then and now? University I suppose.
Whisper softly to me, the words I want to hear…
I am incredibly tired right now, you couldn’t even imagine…hmmm…actually you probably could. No sleep and a lot of coffee make Michelle a bitchy, bitchy, horribly irritable girl. Jesus, how the hell do I even keep friends?
The last four days have lasted at least three weeks. I wake up early, go out come home a 3 a.m., repeat. The other night I couldn’t even think straight, I had no fucken clue what day it was. That’s not saying much though because right now I’m not really sure what day is. It’s interesting how because I have the same classes on Monday, Wednesday and Friday and Tuesdays and Thursdays the week has become either Monday or not.
So here I sit, writing every random thought in my head down on the page and here you are reading it (sucka!). No, but really this isn’t going to be terribly profound, life altering literature but read it anyway because I put in all this effort…to brainwash your young minds to do my bidding. Seriously though don’t take my words of granted there could be an important pearl of wisdom imbedded somewhere in the bullshit that could just chane your life. Read carefully…I write in code. Did you know that when I was in high school I wrote a zine called S.P.O.R.E.S., perhaps you remember it. Damn, that was back in the good old days when I was so angst filled and insecure (actually I’m still pretty insecure). I miss it. I miss a lot of things about high school.
Recently I went to a punk rock show at the multi-cultural centre…in fact it was the Anti-Valentines Day show. I’ve been to 3 shows at the multi since I turned 18 and 2 of those were in the last month. I feel incredibly old being in a crowd of people who are well, just not as old. At that hard-core show some guy I met thought I was 16 though and that made me happy. Sometimes I wish I could be 16 again. That made me feel like I fit in, like all the other 16 year olds were just looking at me thinking check out that twinkie punk with the crooked bangs, who the hell does she think she is? As right they should be thinking. Calgary punks are so judgmental. I never ever felt like I was accepted, or cool enough when I was in high school. I hated that. I knew a lot of people but I never felt like I was totally welcome…do you know what I mean? You probably don’t. I suppose that’s part of the reason why I grew out of it. When I was young I thought I would be punk forever. I wonder when I changed my mind…
You know it’s funny, when I hang out with my friends now who were never part of the punk scene and I mention a band that I thought was fairly popular, in Calgary anyway or I use a term that I suppose is “punk” and they don’t know what the hell I’m talking about. It’s like I almost assume that the people around me today experienced the same things in their teenage years, which of course they didn’t. It’s odd thinking about who remains in the punk scene now. It’s funny to see the kids at the shows and think, yeah I was that five years ago and I thought I would never grow out of it, but low and behold I did. Oh well what can you do? Well, I can devise a master plan to become an elite punk and take over the scene…whatever.
Since winter break I’ve been so unusually happy which is so incredibly uncharacteristic Michelle you wouldn’t believe it. Since I turned 20 I’ve felt happier than I have in as long as I can remember. I’m having an incredibly tough time dealing with the fact that I’m not a teenager anymore but not being a teenager is turning out to be a lot better than I imagined. All through my teenage years I was so angst filled, especially after high school. When I turned 17 I just started hating everyone when previous to that I loved everyone. Now I’m back into seeing something good in everyone which is great because life is so much better when you’re not worrying about stupid shit all the time. I’ve just recently come to the realization that I don’t need a boy to complete me. I’m complete.
I have such a beef against guys that get girls phone numbers when they have absolutely no intention of calling. What’s up with that? Does it make them feel good to just get a shitload of phone numbers because they know they could call if they wanted to? I always call. If I ever give you my number you better call me or I’ll hate you forever. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t such a hopeless romantic. More people should give flowers for no reason.
I’ve been discovering really scary things about myself lately that I have to deal with. It’s almost scary. It’s hard realizing that you’re different than you thought you were. I have such low self-esteem and I’m horribly self-conscious. I’m blunt and I say what I mean; if you said something that I think is fucken stupid I will say that. Some people thin I’m bitchy and mean but well, whatever. Apparently this is a turn-off. Guys don’t like girls that are honest…apparently it scares them (maybe not every guy just certain guys and I’m only saying that because I’m bitter from a particular guy). Honestly, I act like I’m confident but I’m not. I don’t know what’s up with that. I feel so inadequate most of the time. I’m constantly, constantly trying to make my parents proud of me but I feel like they never are no matter how hard I try. I’m 20 years old. I graduate from school in a year and then I’m off to grad school and it scares the shit out of me that when I leave I may totally lose contact with my family because we’re not close at all.
And so the random thoughts spill forth…how interesting. I swear I write about actual stuff next time.
I like the sound of lies, but I need to hear the truth.
Whisper softly to me, the words I want to hear…
I am incredibly tired right now, you couldn’t even imagine…hmmm…actually you probably could. No sleep and a lot of coffee make Michelle a bitchy, bitchy, horribly irritable girl. Jesus, how the hell do I even keep friends?
The last four days have lasted at least three weeks. I wake up early, go out come home a 3 a.m., repeat. The other night I couldn’t even think straight, I had no fucken clue what day it was. That’s not saying much though because right now I’m not really sure what day is. It’s interesting how because I have the same classes on Monday, Wednesday and Friday and Tuesdays and Thursdays the week has become either Monday or not.
So here I sit, writing every random thought in my head down on the page and here you are reading it (sucka!). No, but really this isn’t going to be terribly profound, life altering literature but read it anyway because I put in all this effort…to brainwash your young minds to do my bidding. Seriously though don’t take my words of granted there could be an important pearl of wisdom imbedded somewhere in the bullshit that could just chane your life. Read carefully…I write in code. Did you know that when I was in high school I wrote a zine called S.P.O.R.E.S., perhaps you remember it. Damn, that was back in the good old days when I was so angst filled and insecure (actually I’m still pretty insecure). I miss it. I miss a lot of things about high school.
Recently I went to a punk rock show at the multi-cultural centre…in fact it was the Anti-Valentines Day show. I’ve been to 3 shows at the multi since I turned 18 and 2 of those were in the last month. I feel incredibly old being in a crowd of people who are well, just not as old. At that hard-core show some guy I met thought I was 16 though and that made me happy. Sometimes I wish I could be 16 again. That made me feel like I fit in, like all the other 16 year olds were just looking at me thinking check out that twinkie punk with the crooked bangs, who the hell does she think she is? As right they should be thinking. Calgary punks are so judgmental. I never ever felt like I was accepted, or cool enough when I was in high school. I hated that. I knew a lot of people but I never felt like I was totally welcome…do you know what I mean? You probably don’t. I suppose that’s part of the reason why I grew out of it. When I was young I thought I would be punk forever. I wonder when I changed my mind…
You know it’s funny, when I hang out with my friends now who were never part of the punk scene and I mention a band that I thought was fairly popular, in Calgary anyway or I use a term that I suppose is “punk” and they don’t know what the hell I’m talking about. It’s like I almost assume that the people around me today experienced the same things in their teenage years, which of course they didn’t. It’s odd thinking about who remains in the punk scene now. It’s funny to see the kids at the shows and think, yeah I was that five years ago and I thought I would never grow out of it, but low and behold I did. Oh well what can you do? Well, I can devise a master plan to become an elite punk and take over the scene…whatever.
Since winter break I’ve been so unusually happy which is so incredibly uncharacteristic Michelle you wouldn’t believe it. Since I turned 20 I’ve felt happier than I have in as long as I can remember. I’m having an incredibly tough time dealing with the fact that I’m not a teenager anymore but not being a teenager is turning out to be a lot better than I imagined. All through my teenage years I was so angst filled, especially after high school. When I turned 17 I just started hating everyone when previous to that I loved everyone. Now I’m back into seeing something good in everyone which is great because life is so much better when you’re not worrying about stupid shit all the time. I’ve just recently come to the realization that I don’t need a boy to complete me. I’m complete.
I have such a beef against guys that get girls phone numbers when they have absolutely no intention of calling. What’s up with that? Does it make them feel good to just get a shitload of phone numbers because they know they could call if they wanted to? I always call. If I ever give you my number you better call me or I’ll hate you forever. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t such a hopeless romantic. More people should give flowers for no reason.
I’ve been discovering really scary things about myself lately that I have to deal with. It’s almost scary. It’s hard realizing that you’re different than you thought you were. I have such low self-esteem and I’m horribly self-conscious. I’m blunt and I say what I mean; if you said something that I think is fucken stupid I will say that. Some people thin I’m bitchy and mean but well, whatever. Apparently this is a turn-off. Guys don’t like girls that are honest…apparently it scares them (maybe not every guy just certain guys and I’m only saying that because I’m bitter from a particular guy). Honestly, I act like I’m confident but I’m not. I don’t know what’s up with that. I feel so inadequate most of the time. I’m constantly, constantly trying to make my parents proud of me but I feel like they never are no matter how hard I try. I’m 20 years old. I graduate from school in a year and then I’m off to grad school and it scares the shit out of me that when I leave I may totally lose contact with my family because we’re not close at all.
And so the random thoughts spill forth…how interesting. I swear I write about actual stuff next time.
I like the sound of lies, but I need to hear the truth.
Comments