A neverending story, my stream of consciousness is.

Now, I continue this thread of live blogging which Wes is included in.

His post will be hard to top.
But it's okay, because this isn't a competition.

I am listening to my sister, she's reading in the kitchen, she's 7.

"But WHO ARE YOU?"
"Not you, I'm sure."

As she continues, I realize that she's engrossed in some Goldilocks spin-off tale.
Those seem to be all the rage these days.
Rage, rage, rage.
I have a lot of that.

Back in the day, to let it all out, I'd turn up my amp to 11 and plug the CD player in with several cords that never really ended up connecting to a guitar and let "Sleep Now In The Fire" shake the streets.

My music taste has changed since then. Still, I'll always have a place in my heart for Zack de la Rocha.

Now, for something completely unrelated.

I consider myself a very cold person, austere.
Almost like a rock.
It sucks really, but then, at times, I look back, and the pseudo-self-hatred seems just like angst.
I can see beauty in things that aren't beautiful. Wes can too.
It's nice, you know, to be able to appreciate the aesthetics of everyday life.

Today, while I hid inbetween book cases, this girl Erin kept coming up to me.
She's in a wheelchair, no mental impairment.
But it's her freshman year and she's been in it since the beginning.
I can't imagine how hard that must be.

So many things that you just can't do. But she's so happy.
SO SO SO HAPPY.
And I dunno, it kind of makes me want to cry in a weird way, because I just want to hug her and tell her that it's okay you know?
That everything will be alright, like nothing's even wrong and I might be making a fuss, but I wanna give her the world.

I could never have a smile on my face like she does every time I see her whirling through the corridors.
Maybe I just don't understand.
But I don't pity her at all, I just appreciate her place in this world and in my life as "wheelchair girl".
And she appreciates me as the "senior who rides on the elevator".

Cause you see, that's how we met, I was late for class and I needed speed, godspeed.
The elevators are for the kids who are handicapped and well, she just let me in.
She saw my face, all out of breath and she just said come in.
And that's how I started talking to her.
I don't even know why I'm talking about this, but that's what's on my mind.

I guess it's the fact that people have so many things that are supposed to make them unhappy, really like you could find a million if you tried, but there are those people who just don't give a shit, you know?

You don't have to give a shit.
Just smile.
Right?

Did that make any sense?

-- Chocolate Girl