so happy together!

I hope the rest of this year is as incredible as my New Year's Eve was. I feel happier and more confident and more in love than I have... since I can remember. Happy New Year, everyone!

go beat your crazy head against the sky

Happy new year, everyone! I went skiing for a few days with my family and the brothers bogo, and have just returned. It was wonderful and fun and I have bruises everywhere from wrestling over pillows on the sofa and colliding with little kids.

I got some photos back! As usual, I have a one-out-of-four-ish hit ratio, and this roll was no different, but I got a few good ones. I'm mostly posting portraits this time, because we all know that everyone likes to see themselves.

These are people that make me feel like there's still a little mystery out there.











(Disclaimer: Greg C. took the last shot. I guess it was obvious that I didn't take it, because I'm in it, but I wanted to give him some credit, too.)
Feel free to download, link, use, etc.
I feel so much better!

Merry christmas everyone! or whatever!

I was in a bookstore today and I realized how much I now know about graphic novels. It's a bit frightening.

I love everyone so much!
Especially my H.

chasing the train

We're all going skiing on monday through thursday (my family, my uncle's family, Harry and Travis) and I just realized I haven't started the newspaper layout yet. I think I'll just pull an all-nighter one night and get the damn thing done.

Most of my Christmas shopping is done. I still have to buy bike tires and make a bunch of hats and stuff.

I can feel my love of edginess edgy-ness returning. I feel myself liking people and things all over again. I'm having fun, and not just because other people are amusing. I feel alive. It's as though I can feel myself being restored.

tell me more, tell me more...

Spent a silent night with LK and Rie and fell asleep at Sam Freund's house, full of menstrual cramps and oversugary Magnolia cupcakes and tired and cold. I don't think I was very good company. They were so sweet about everything and I was just silent. I felt guilty all night but too weirdly distant to try to make conversation. Next day LK and I went thrift-shopping with my mom and little success (I was still wiped out) and then I had some coffee to wake myself up and drove over to see Harry. We decided to go see Kong with whoever would come, which ended up being David and Daniel Tay, Renata, Travis and Harper. We met up with Elena at Silver Spurs for oversized hamburgers and Kong jokes. It was fun and funny and great, even though David almost choked, and then Elena fell asleep on my bed and I read naked lunch until she woke up and eventually went home. Then I finished her hat and called Harry to say good-night and felt incredibly lucky.

sweet dreams are made like this...

I can't stand that song, but Harry's been singing it all day, and it kind of fits. Especially since David downloaded all that Spanish Krunk onto my computer.

I'm a bit behind on my posting. Since then I've eaten a celebratory dinner at Pratt with Harry's friends, went to a sophomore party with no drugs and no booze and enjoyed it immensely, saw Narnia and almost got grounded for coming home at one, picked up my glasses only to find out that they don't work, played pool with Matt and George, saw Zack with Harry at his family's Christmas party, had sushi and Gray's Papaya and meaningful conversation with David Tay and Harry, gotten the hiccups and generally tried to cheer myself up.

I feel kind of weird about everyone coming back. Break looks pretty short from here, though it may feel longer, and I can't help but feel like it's all kind of pointless. That said, when I actually see people I love them all over again and don't really mind. So I'm weird.

I promised my Harry I'd relax and be myself, which is the equivalent of promising myself I'd be happy, so I can't do any more of this crappy breaking-down thing. I know I will--but I have to try to fight it. I have to win. It's too important.

Edit: I (Harry) deny the singing of the song stated above. I may have done a few lines of my *own* version... but I most definately do not know the words to ANY song in it's completion. Certainly not the above.

Veronica wears a men's bathrobe.

Okay, I lied. I did pretty well on my PSATs. And yesterday at Pratt with Harry's friends and some middle eastern food and beer and snow was so much fun! I was my old, happy, laughing self again, the person Harry loves and I love, and it was lovely. I've resolved not to be depressed over this break, since all the things that were opressing me will be gone.

I'm finally picking up my glasses today! I also promised Harry I'd see Kong and Narnia with him, and go ice-skating with some of his friends, and take Spike shopping, so it's looking like an eventful two-week break.

I'll add more on later, or just post again. It's 8:16 and I have to get to school and bring salsa music for my spanish class.

So we performed and she performed and I performed and it went well sometimes and very badly other times and I found I didn't care. I cried and I lost sleep and I forgot to eat lunch for two days and I worked late and my tooth started bleeding and I couldn't get back to sleep until five and I woke up at six and fell asleep again and had to get dressed and shave my legs in ten minutes and then no one was there to give me detention so I just sat with Ms. Daly, and when she asks, "how are you, V.V.?" I never know what to say. "Depressed, hormone-imbalanced, tired, hungry, bored, apathetic and romantically pained" would have been good, but I just said "I'm fine" and tried to get more work done. Sweet sophomore Dylan was nice about the whole performance thing, because he's a nice guy and kind of gets it. Matt and Lucas have, somewhere between freshman year and the present, become excellent musicians, though they sound a bit like the Who and the Kinks. Matt bought me coffee and apologized profusely because Eli was there, and I just shrugged. "I don't really care either way," I said; "I just want him to feel embarrassed." So I ignored him and came home with my little sister and worked for hours so I can go up to Pratt today, even though it's probably not a very good idea for me. I ran out late for detention and my mom drove me and said, "V, I understand why you're bored, because whenever I go to parents' meetings I don't know who to talk to, and I don't really want to talk to any of them, because all of the parents are boring, and I imagine their kids are, too," and I said "Yeah, pretty much," and it was oddly pleasant.

The photo class doesn't want me and my PSATs were mediocre and my dad's happy all of the sudden, which is confusing, and I have to work through this week and then live through next semester and then maybe it will be okay again. I want to bike away like Mr. Z and meet new people and feel the summer and carry my life on my back and be okay with everything. I want to be happy.

I'm afraid that the ex-seniors will all come back and I'll feel safe again and then everyone will leave and it will be another heartbreak. Or maybe I'm so far down that they'll seem lame, too, and I won't want to feel for them or see them or miss them and nothing will help me.

This is how I write when I have ten minutes 'till my next class and two hours of sleep and tear-bags under my eyes and dopey clothes because I never really prepared myself for today.

down them stairs, lose them cares

I'm happy because;

-Tom O'Connor gave me some lenses to try out and possibly buy from him
-I'm getting my eyes checked today, and I'll have glasses by the end of the week
-I have a whole extra bookshelf now to fill up
-We're singing Birdland tonight
-Apparently, there's an English flower called a Veronica Midnight
-I only had three real classes today
-I finished my roll of film at school today
-I found the Buddhist temple I lost last year on Yahoo today
-No mandatory homework until Thursday night
-I get to see my Harry this thursday after almost three weeks of missing him

And I generally just feel pretty and confident and myself. School is boring, but I can be happy anyway, so long as I keep myself busy. The Buddha once said, "Be ye lights unto yourselves; hold fast to the truth as your lantern." I think I'll try it.

Expect developed photos and that last polaroid tomorrow or tonight.



Edited in: it turns out I didn't finish the roll because it's one of my parents' 36-expo's, not one of my 24's, so they might not be up soon. Whatever.

My superintendent and I were in the elevator and it was one of those awkward moments, so he went "Hey, I haven't seen your boyfriend around in a while." I was mildly put off. It was a very personal question, not at all a diplomatic conversation starter; what if we'd broken up horribly? What if he was dead? What if he'd left me for someone else? "He's in college taking finals right now," I said, "but he'll have Christmas break soon, so you'll get to see a lot more of him."

I left with a strange feeling of sadness and excitement.

Then I went to the glasses place and I ran into Rie and was horribly awkward because my thoughts were elsewhere, and because she's always intimidated me, and the doctor was really weird and smelled bad, like those cheap hand-soaps at the Y and lemon lysol and sweat, and I felt a little gross, but I'm going to play music and make cookies and feel better now.

that gets my goat

I couldn't think of a song name, so I opened my "Blues Harmonica for Beginners" book (no, I haven't actually read it) and found the first song. It actually looks pretty complicated. A lot of bent notes.

I spent my weekend watching Hitchcock movies Seinfeld episodes, buying Christmas presents, playing the harmonica and cleaning out my closet. I went to the Housing Works volunteer party, but I hadn't shown up for my shift in three weeks, and I don't really know anyone, and they're all working professionals out of college and grad school, so I just felt out of place. I did get some free jewelry, which was nice, but I ended up leaving early, mostly because I felt like the few people who did talk to me (mostly Kurt) did it more out of pity than anything else, and the guy who was hitting on me was weird. Very weird. I kind of thought he was a woman at first, and he's not a cross dresser or anything.

I went back to the cafe again today, because I felt guilty about taking the jewelry when I hadn't really been working very hard, and it was fun. I came late because of Jazz Vocal rehearsal, but we're still in pretty bad shape. Maddy, Rachel and Adam are so obnoxious, and everyone else just acts strange and feeds their feelings of superiority. I'd rather be a little lame than condescending.

Anyway! I don't want to start badmouthing people. Here are some photos I put on my wall. Click to enlarge.

I think I'm gonna start taking my camera to school to photograph some of the people I know. Everyone already thinks I'm crazy, so they won't even look twice when I start taking pictures of them.

And here's the polaroid Lauren took of Harry and I. If I had a goat, and if I had to give it to someone, he'd probably get it.

tooty fruity, for lack of a better title

My blog has gotten very vague and angsty. I'm sorry.

One last emotional statement:
When I hear Harry say "I love you, V" so tenderly and so sincerely it's so overbearingly sweet and wonderful that I don't even know what to say. When everything's at its best I'm so happy I want to cry. There's no better feeling in the world.

My weekend:

the firefly platform on sunny-goodge street

Feeling good. I spent my friday night doing errands, photographing strangers and the city, knitting, and talking to Harry, who I miss terribly, until everyone came home. Then my mom and I went to the Strand and I bought Gunter Grass novels and Neitche and all of the stuff I was looking for and when I got home my mom took them into her bedroom and said "I guess I'll wrap them up for Christmas now" and I was shocked.

There's something so different about the way men say the pronoun "she" when it refers to someone they love. It's lovely to hear.

Harry and Travis are going skiing with my family and my multi-lingual, mildly obnoxious uncle and his three totally opposite sons--a Marine, a Russian Lit major and a jazz musician. It should be interesting.

I killed my MySpace! Actually, it's not gone, but I took all of the pictures down and essentially wrote "fuck you, read my blog instead" under the "about me" section. It's over! I hated that thing.

My mom wants to rent an apartment in France next summer. She suggested two weeks, but I'm pushing for a month, at least. It would be so nice and beautiful and warm and lovely...

I'm so sick of school! I just don't care! On the bright side, nobody there can really hurt my feelings or anything, but the downside is that I'm constantly bored, and nobody really cheers me up, either.

I mailed in my play and I HATE it. I told Dennis, who I rather like, despite everything, and he said, "Well, think about it like a bad boyfriend. First you think of how happy you are that it's over; next, you think about what you learned from it; and last, you think about what you're going to do differently next time."

Words of wisdom. I can't wait to write another.

old enough to know better

WARNING: I'M PMSING SEVERELY AND AM WELL AWARE OF IT.

I know it's just because I'm PMSing, but I'm inches away from crying. I'm trying to stifle it by doing something productive but it's not working.

I was sorting through all of my old notebooks, looking at all the things I wrote last year, freshman year, and as a kid. Sometimes I thought "wow, I was stupid" and other times I thought I'd been pretty clever... it just all seemed pointless. Why all that poetry that even I forgot? The drawings I'm just going to stick in a bin? I was struck with a severe urge to burn all of it. I held myself back--that habit just sets off my fire alarms and makes people think I'm crazy--but I was sorely tempted. Instead I just put it all in a box and hid it away. I don't ever want to look at any of it again. I was so inspired. I wrote little poems every day. I felt deep.

I still feel deep and I draw a lot better now and I write a little better.

But I feel like I've lost my muse.

There are so many things in my head opressing me now. I wish I knew how to be happy. I wish I still had him. I wish I still had my muse.

First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is...

Everything's so damn complicated...

Donovan was amazing. I can think of no other description than DaSilva's: "That's fucking deep, man!" I love that kid.

Renata and I are playing the coffee house. Come watch!

My sister started a blog (in my links on the sidebar) but won't let me link to it in a post. So I'll just mention it casually without actually linking.

My glasses came in. I have to pick them up.

The paper got delayed until after break.

I hate my play.

I love my Harry and my sister.

Andy emailed me. I don't know how I feel about it.

I have huge bags under my eyes now. People have been avoidng me all day and I don't really care. I'm so sick of this school.

Anyway, things aren't so bad, I guess.

barabajagal

Okay, Harry, you win. I'm officially sexy, I posted twice today AND I made a webcomic reference to a stranger while trying to get your bike's tires replaced. And I advocated the de-pedestalization of art in meeting, something I vehemently denied when I met him.

I was just walking down the street with his bike, on my way to the strand to get a book signed when I saw a guy walking down the street with his jacket open to expose a White Ninja tee-shirt. He was about to step in a pile of shit. "Watch your kneecaps!" I said. He looked at his shirt, then at the ground and narrowly avoided the shitpile. The he looked up and stared at me and my man-bike and two huge books (The Beatles: A Biography and The LIfe of Bob Dylan) and stared at me, obviously shocked, and said "That's so sexy." "Thanks." I smiled, genuinely happy, and walked away.

The bike shop was closed, and I was late for the signing so the guy had left, but I bought a pre-signed book anyway, and called Harry and told him the whole story and he laughed and sent me an email afterwards ("I miss my V... I think I'll pedestalize her") and I made hot chocolate and heard my sister and my mom's stories about Donovan and how he signed Renata's hand-drum and her pants and my mom's advanced print of his book. And then I called Matt and heard about Lucas's reaction to my garbled speech.

"It's a good thing the bell rang," he allegedly said, "because I was about to get up and say that I saw a movie last weekend and a baby cried and I couldn't hear the dialogue. And it sucked."

I'm happy.

Mellow Yellow

So I haven't updated in a couple days... I think... I don't really remember. I don't know what to write. Lauren came to school yesterday. It was fun... I didn't have many classes, so it was mostly just hanging out, but she got to meet some of my friends and Ms. Reyes and I got called "Viva-Diva-Delicious" for the first time in my life.

I wore boots that are about four inches high today and Travis is still taller than me. I'm doomed.

And I said something in meeting about humanizing art and everyone thinks I'm insane. I'm not a very good orator. I get nervous. The best part, though, is that when people look at me funny after something like that I just don't care. I'm not even mildly embarrasssed.

I just spent a whole period reading the archives of Go-Girly. I finally finished.

Donovan Leitch is doing a book signing today. I don't know if I'm going.

I changed the background of my blog, but now I'm not sure if I like it.

My mom was saying something on the phone to one of her relatives about how "V seems happy this year" and I quickly corrected her. I think I freaked her out a little bit.

In spite of everything, I feel mellow.
I feel vaguely happy.
I feel like making cookies.
I miss my Harry.

Edited in: I like this one...

I listen to the whirlwind's song saying not to worry

I heareby declare that my life and mind are too complicated to ever be fully explained. This blog is somewhat pointless. I think it's a prop for my own self-discovery. I can't really explain this either.

When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek

150 posts later, I still don't know who I am.

But I think I'm getting somewhere.

I want to be Ginger Rogers and live in a beautiful romantic world all the time and not worry about anything and never, never cry again.

I tap danced to that last week. Somehow Fred did it a little better, I think.

I'm in school right now making templates for every section of the paper so the damn editors can do their own layout for a change. I shouldn't have to do everything--just oversee it. I'm still losing another saturday over the templates, though, so I kind of wonder if there's any point.

I went to 38th street to drop off my play and there was an elevator that shook and I could hear the metal chains collapsing underneath me as it went up and when I got to the third floor the whole thing was painted lime-yellow-pukeish and the paint was falling off everywhere and the doors were all ornate cast iron rusting away and there were drip marks everywhere and low lights and there was a single sheet of paper taped to the door that said "Young Playwrite's Association has moved. Youth Playwriter's Competition 2006 deadline is December 9. Mail to (adress)."

So I have another week.

Why can't I be my awesome, intellectual, confident, sexy self all the time? I seem to go in spurts.

Maybe I can.

The Grunge Revolution is going well, but my stockings won't stay up because I don't have a garter, and I have to turn in my play after school so I'll be late for Harry, which is depressing, because today's the only chance I get to see him and I miss him so much it hurts.

PS- everyone see The Squid and the Whale.
PPS- ctrl+alt+del is awesome. I love Ethan. He's a lot like Harry. And it's being animated!