My Name Is B L U E

Kids Suck

I been tryna keep my grip

Yeah I think I'm over this

I can hear it now, oh no, oh no

Yeah my tongue wont let it slip

Why'd I do those things I did?

Yeah I can taste it now, oh no, oh no.

                                  -Bad Suns, Cardiac Arrest

So here's the deal

This is my...what would I call it? Not a diary, I use that to whine...I mean, I guess I'll be whining in this....but not on purpose.

So lets just say its my big book of Blue's life.

Not that any one would particularly care about my life, but you know, I thought, what the hell. I think I'll enjoy it.

I think an introduction would be kinda cool. So I'm Blue, as the title may imply. Yeah, real name, no joke. My mom always said it came from some movie in 80's or something. Obviously, not a very popular movie.

I'm 16, a girl, in case you hadn't figured that much out.

What prompted me to write this?

I write when I'm in a bad mood. Or a good mood, or any mood, for that matter, so I guess that doesn't have anything to do with why I'm writing this.

But it's odd what falling off the bus steps and having an entire bus of fourth and fifth graders laugh at you because lets face it, it's a little pathetic that you're 16 and riding the bus with the little kids, and little kids are little shits. Sorry if any twelve year olds are reading this.

As I was sitting in the dirt at the bottom of my road, watching the bus speed off, leaving a cloud of dust big enough to make one think that they were about to be stampeded by a herd of buffalo, it occurred to me that maybe I should start writing that sort of stuff down.

I mean, didn't that guy make an ass ton of money for writing a book called Shit My Dad Says? And all that was was him writing down weird things his dad said.

So that's sort of what this is going to be.

There's never a dull moment in my life.

My dad's a photographer( and an eccentric one, at that) and we travel all over the place, all the time. I've learned a lot in that time. Don't stick your head out the window while driving down back roads. Don't take pictures of women's booths in Mexico without asking. Don't eat the gas station burritos. Or anything else prepared at the gas station. Don't give that nice lady wearing fish nets and hot pink gogo boots a ride, especially if she says she's "late for an important meeting,"

But of all of those things, there's one thing I learned that I don't think I'll ever forget.

And that is, do not send your dad to buy you tampons.

Just kidding....well, I guess I wont ever forget that lesson, but that's not the one I mean.

What I mean is, never accept that you can't. Yeah, yeah, I know, you get it from your teachers and all that jazz all the time.

But seriously, I've grown up in the passenger seat of a car, riding along side my dad, and when I was younger, I didn't think I would amount to much. I mean, come on, a photographer only makes so much money. We didn't have a lot to live off of. I didn't fit in with the other kids, I didn't make friends, and I wasn't good at anything. I didn't even have a mom.

I couldn't go to college.

I couldn't get married.

I couldn't be a writer.

I couldn't be normal.

Then one day, while putzing around alongside this road, over looking a massive canyon lined with beautiful rocks covered in moss, flowers blooming out of the cracks in the canyon walls, and almost instantly my mind thought, maybe they're fake.

But of course, that wasn't possible.

They were just there, doing what looked impossible. But they were doing it, and they were beautiful.

And being the philosophical twelve year old that I was, I thought, maybe people were the same way. You don't have to be fake to stand out, and you can do whatever the fuck you want.

If you want to roller blade down the streets of New York city with a ferret on the end of a leash, wearing nothing but a pink boa, then for fucks sake, do it. Sure, you might get arrested, but they wont keep you long, don't worry.

If you want to do that, you can. There isn't some cosmic law saying you cant do something. Except, you know, murder and rape and that sort of terrible stuff. If that's the sort of thing that makes you happy...well, you're a sick person, my friend, and I suggest talking to someone about that.

So I guess the point to this long, rambling, clichéd rant that no one is going to read, is just be happy, and fuck the rest. If I, the most pessimistic person on the face of the planet, can do it by watching an inch worm crawl around on my balcony, than you can find something that makes you happy, even if it seems impossible. It's out there.

So I guess that's that.

Oh, there was one other thing I wanted to say, before signing off.

Blond boy with the massive glasses and freckles who called me a dip shit for falling off the bus even though you're like ten, if you're somehow reading this, just know that I'm coming for you. Yeah, that's right.

Okey dokey then, stay gorgeous, my friends♥