tuesday, february XXX, 2008
current mood: tired and thoughtful.
current music: becoming the bull - atreyu
quote of the day: for a good cause, wrongdoing is virtuous. -- pubilius syrus
fourth grade was a transitional year. a new home with her father, stepmother, brother, and stepsister was one thing ; attending a new school? that seemed a bit overwhelming to her.
jane hadn't known that fourth grade was the year the real drama started. it was like preparation for middle school. should she sit with the shy girl from the bus that was very sweet and funny? or with the group of girls who were loud and fun at the good times, loud and vicious at the bad? one friend or four? it was a decision that didn't need to be made. soon jane had five friends, and more to come.
there was the first crush, a boy who lived behind her and liked her back, but moved away.
all that year jane spent her time trying to figure out what she wanted to be, in the simplest of fourth-grade sense. the roles were mostly played out already at this school. jane could try to fit in with the new populars, survive a couple of years and be reunited with her old friends. she could talk to the sweet kids, the honor-roll quiets who would talk about things other than how much they looked forward to middle school.
the quiets won that battle.
the custody battle, however? no one seemed to win that one.
mom wanted jane and her brother home. she was in AA, after all, on the road to recovery. she neglected to mention the three bottles of vodka jane's brother found hidden in her sock drawer.
they continued to live with dad.
Tuesday
Monday
Time for Change
still monday, february XXX, 2008
current mood: i just woke up. i have no mood.
current music: miracle, by paramore
quote of the day: same as it was at 2AM this morning, losers.
jane grew up the way any of your basic little girls would. her friends were the future cheerleaders and football stars. she would have grown up exactly the same as those kids, if not for a single evening.
in third grade, jane sat watching Cinderella 2 in her school library, preferring the calmness there to the crazy sockhop in the gym. jane's mother was walking around the school, and she'd said she'd come back when it was time to take jane's friend home.
when mom came back, something was different. she wasn't focused, she was disoriented. it wasn't until she almost drove into a mailbox without realizing it that jane thought something was more than different. something was wrong. soon, jane's friend's mother's boyfriend [yes i know, that's confusing, but names aren't important until later] was trying so hard to help mom out of the car. he wanted to drive them all home. mom yelled and screamed and kicked, and continued to do so for hours when they got home. boyfriend stayed there, he wanted to keep jane and her brother safe. soon jane's stepdad came home. he called jane's father.
that night jane stayed in her brother's room, crying. the next morning she stayed with her cousin, then the night she stayed with her aunt. after that, she left to live with her dad.
current mood: i just woke up. i have no mood.
current music: miracle, by paramore
quote of the day: same as it was at 2AM this morning, losers.
jane grew up the way any of your basic little girls would. her friends were the future cheerleaders and football stars. she would have grown up exactly the same as those kids, if not for a single evening.
in third grade, jane sat watching Cinderella 2 in her school library, preferring the calmness there to the crazy sockhop in the gym. jane's mother was walking around the school, and she'd said she'd come back when it was time to take jane's friend home.
when mom came back, something was different. she wasn't focused, she was disoriented. it wasn't until she almost drove into a mailbox without realizing it that jane thought something was more than different. something was wrong. soon, jane's friend's mother's boyfriend [yes i know, that's confusing, but names aren't important until later] was trying so hard to help mom out of the car. he wanted to drive them all home. mom yelled and screamed and kicked, and continued to do so for hours when they got home. boyfriend stayed there, he wanted to keep jane and her brother safe. soon jane's stepdad came home. he called jane's father.
that night jane stayed in her brother's room, crying. the next morning she stayed with her cousin, then the night she stayed with her aunt. after that, she left to live with her dad.
Here Goes Nothing
monday, february XXX, 2008
current mood: pretty damn good
current music: simple plan is on repeat, baby!
quote of the day: i was no petty thief, i wanted the world or nothing. - charles bukowski
hello, hello, from the mind of daisy. is that my real name? of course not. i like to be anonymous. why would i divulge my name to people i don't even know? don't be mistaken, kids, because daisy-like i am not. sure, i'm generically happy and very hyper, and i smile a lot. but pretty and fresh and just happy all the time? no. i like black and loud rock, i live to rebel and piss of anyone who notices, and i love to write. that last part, the writing part? that's the point of this blog. so people who don't know me and therefore, won't judge me or my writing can get a sense of something other than the pop-rip off fluff most people post as blogs.
her bedroom was as cluttered as can be expected from any fifteen year old.
her keyboard stood at the foot of the bed, tall and proud.
her bookshelves overflowed, and her ipod blared atreyu.
her life was as entertaining and generically fucked up as ever.
her mom was a secret alcoholic.
her dad was a pushover.
her brother was bipolar.
her name? they rarely cared about her name. for simplicity's sake, we'll call her jane.
her story? that's what i'm here to tell you.
current mood: pretty damn good
current music: simple plan is on repeat, baby!
quote of the day: i was no petty thief, i wanted the world or nothing. - charles bukowski
hello, hello, from the mind of daisy. is that my real name? of course not. i like to be anonymous. why would i divulge my name to people i don't even know? don't be mistaken, kids, because daisy-like i am not. sure, i'm generically happy and very hyper, and i smile a lot. but pretty and fresh and just happy all the time? no. i like black and loud rock, i live to rebel and piss of anyone who notices, and i love to write. that last part, the writing part? that's the point of this blog. so people who don't know me and therefore, won't judge me or my writing can get a sense of something other than the pop-rip off fluff most people post as blogs.
her bedroom was as cluttered as can be expected from any fifteen year old.
her keyboard stood at the foot of the bed, tall and proud.
her bookshelves overflowed, and her ipod blared atreyu.
her life was as entertaining and generically fucked up as ever.
her mom was a secret alcoholic.
her dad was a pushover.
her brother was bipolar.
her name? they rarely cared about her name. for simplicity's sake, we'll call her jane.
her story? that's what i'm here to tell you.
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