Cheynes

My sister is so beautiful. But truly. So very sweet and tender...I can't help but want to protect her from everything and everyone. I think if she had a boyfriend I'd feel instantly inclined to dislike him and make his job very difficult. She's so very perfect and still so unsure of herself... I don't know how to make her believe me about herself. I am reminded of this because she is right behind me making magic with the piano, pounding the keys and throwing up a blues-storm that is filled with passion until she sweats and finally stops, smiling. She looks at me and starts to laugh when she sees that tweety (bird) has just landed on my head.

I've always wanted to make her understand all the things I love, and, to her credit, she's understood many of them. But not all. And I don't understand everything she's passionate about, either. I want to give them to her, all of them, and make her understand and love them as much as I do. Loving things (and people) is so very difficult sometimes.

Officially on two weeks of archives on this blog now. I'm not sure why that makes me so happy. I never saw myself as a blogging type. Who knew?

Note to elena, who as of yet has no blog alias (but apparantly does read this... you leave the most hilarious comments, dude. Where would I be without you? (Don't pull a Happy Sheep and try to answer that)): it was truly not all that controversial, because certain people are very very accepting. And wonderful. And certain others still put up their away messages whenever I go online. All I can say is that you'd better come with me this summer. I'm sorry we didn't get to go bra-shopping or concert-going last night. I love your random comments... they're so you, and they always make me smile. I'm still waiting for you to get a blog, or at least use your livejournal, so that I can write inside jokes on it and confuse everyone. And I'm sorry, but a certain someone is most definately not gay. No matter how many times he cites Mean Girls or says "Fetch".

Last night was the last gig I'll ever see at Orange Bear. The old one, anyway, because it's relocating. Bogo San took me (though we were half an hour late to a one-hour show) and we had a generally good time (especially since they played Isis and Scarsborough Fair and that song they wrote that sounds exactly like Nirvana's Lake of Fire, some of my favorite songs of all time.) Adrian, or maybe it was Christian, I'm not sure which is which, said some closing words about "So, like, we've got to keep the scene going, and, like, still go to eachother's gigs and stuff, 'cause, like, it's real, y'know, it's good stuff," and I felt sad, mostly because I was never really as much a part of that scene as I'd like to have been. I really hope that it doesn't just end like that, unceremoniously and all. Although closure would probably be worse. I hate closure.

When I got home last night, I heart my mom say to my dad, "You know, I think V. is a lot like you, John, in that she hates being labelled." I immediately interjected, furiously declaring that "I am not like him!"

I think I'm beginning to discover why it is that I hate being labelled so much. It's because as soon as someone attaches a label to you, they've found a convenient way to disregard whatever it is that you're saying. Once I'd gotten a reputation as a rabid Bob Dylan fan, for example, people stopped listening to me when I told them to listen to certain Dylan songs. It's the same thing as when someone really religious tries to tell you about God; you tune out instantly, because you figure that it's just an innate character flaw that causes them to believe whatever it is they're saying, not their own logic or passion or good taste. Passion is not a flaw, and is not always irrational. I sound irritatingly like F. Scott Fitzgerald, I know, but I urge anyone who reads this never to disregard another's passion. It is seldom empty.

In case you didn't notice the change, thanks to the beautiful Laura K, or Elk, as she is known in blog-land (and perhaps in life, I'm not really sure), I now know how to link!

On a random note, some stats that I have gathered over the last week or so and found interesting, shocking, or sad:
1 in 10 people is homosexual, by the conservative estimate. (The liberal is 1 in 8.)
1 in 4 girls who goes to an all-girls' summer camp becomes/discovers herself as a lesbian.
1 in 9 rapes is committed by a woman.
1 in 20 children (defined as a person under the age of 16) who says that s/he has been abused physically, verbally or sexually is lying.
1 in 3 smokers will die of lung cancer.
1 in 5 teenagers will die of some form of cancer.
1 in 15 children born in the world will work in a sweatshop before the age of 16.