Savored with sound!

12 songs for the last 12 days of summer.
1. Lemonade Song- Mitch McVicker
2. Kickin' it With You- Jason Mraz
3. Forever- Holiday Parade
4. At The Beach- The Avett Brothers
5. Mountain and The Sea- Ingrid Michaelson
6. Video Killed the Radio Star- Presidents
7. Strawberry Swing- Coldplay
8. Just Like Heaven- The Cure
9. Crashin'- Jack's Mannequin
10. Ruby Blue- Roison Murphy
11. On The Radio- Regina Spektor
12. Breakfast at Tiffany's- Deep Blue Something

Peace. <3

Files and cabinets and checks and lists.

The good:
-TOMS tan.
-Rasberry lemonade.
-Disney movies.
-Starbucks dates.
-New friends.
-Band practice.
-Red lips.
-Raw worship.
-Best friends and crying hugs.
-Small discoveries.

The bad:
-Ten pages of Algebra 2 homework.
-Driving slowly.
-Dramatic ex-boyfriends.
-Best friends going to college.
-Expensive gas.
-Losing your favorite pen.
-Lack of four wheel drive.

The lovely:
-Catherine's pet lizard.
-Hilary's mix cd's.
-Long talks in the car with Aric.
-Old pictures in Brooklyn's closet.
-Kissing Devon when the rest of Mantra is distracted.
-Wet hair.
-Getaways.

After all the wonderwalls.

When you're fifteen, a year is an eternity. And when you're fifteen you think about everything that happened when you weren't and how you handled it all. When you're fifteen it's time to forgive yourself for the things that happened when you weren't fifteen. When you weren't fifteen, you had a best friend. You were their Wonderwall. They're one. The one person. Ever. That knew them. When you weren't fifteen, you had a best friend. A best friend that you were in love with that had lots of other best friends that they were in love with. And you didn't care. And they took advantage of that. When you weren't fifteen, you had a best friend. A best friend who loved you for being weird. Who called himself Batman. Who got mad at you a lot. And you loved him. And when you weren't fifteen, you lost them all. One you ran away from. One you got tired of. And one you still don't even know. Then with the first one things got better. Again. At last. And the second. The second is hopeless. Because even though you've forgiven yourself, they have yet to forgive you. The third. Always comes back around. But not this time. And you wish it could all be different with the third. But the third's always been a little stubborn.

Wind doesn't stay.
It's simple.
And awful.
And true.
When it doesn't seem right, The Wind leaves. Hesitation depends on how strong of a bond there is with the Wind and the subject being fled from.
That's how it works.
Simple. Awful. True.

Hideaway.

Journal--1.2//March/17/2010

"Everyone needs a hideaway, for just them with things that remind other people of them. A little place to start fires, and read stories, and pretend, with walls made of blankets and a ceiling made of dreams. A hideaway with the kind of lights that glow. Not the lights that shine, just the lights that glow. The ones that shine are too bright. Everyone needs a hideaway where they can just go, and think, and yell, and just bite on the end of their pen without anyone telling them to stop."

Lovely messy.

I should probably stand up.
And I should probably clean my room.
And I should probably start my summer homework.
And I should probably text people back.
But instead I'll sit here, writing.
Instead I'll listen to music in my bedroom.
Instead I'll think about how right everything feels these days.
Instead I will realize that I'm happy, and content, and at peace.
Because it's summer.
Because I'm a teenager.
And because it's raining.

All I want is you.

You know that teddy bear you had when you were a kid and how your heart will always be tied to it a little, just because it was the root of your childhood? Or that kid that teased you in fifth grade and fell in love with you in middle school? Our hearts are scattered onto objects stitched with memories, and people that change us. But out hearts are also tied to places. Whether it's a bedroom, a coffeeshop, or a city in Massachusetts. When you're there, you know that it's exactly where you're supposed to be. When you're there all you want is for it to last. Your heart becomes tied to that place. Then you leave, and it's all you can think about. The weird thing is you don't get to choose these places, you just come across them and know. Kind of like how you don't get to pick who you fall in love with. You don't get to pick which places your heart ties to. Your heart does.

Sunlight, midnight, moonlight, true life.

There's something about Summer at night. When you lay in the road and absorb the pure youth in heat, it stays. You go insde and you're warm for hours. Because of one single moment. One lovespark.

131st.

The world is a street at night. The followers of Christ, the only truth, are the streetlamp. The streetlamp that somehow always remains glowing in the darkest night. The streetlamp brings the doubt out of the shadows it casts. The entire world is one street, with one streetlamp. All light comes that single streetlamp. So shine brighter.

Welcome to the little town of Nothing Happens Here.

We strive for contentment, when all the while we're forgetting to live.