435

“Catalyst you insist to pull me down,
You contradict the fact that you still want me around,
And it’s all downhill from here,
And it’s all downhill from here…”

-New Found Glory
(“All Downhill From Here”)

432

Cinnamon styx.

Undergarments.

Frederyck Chopin.

My room does not smell like cinnamon…I’m slightly disappointed. I wish it would taste a bit more like cinnamon. Oh well…there’s still like half left. Do I want it now or later?

I hope you realize that I’m probably going to want more now -.-

A beauty bomb…

A beauty bomb…

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Visual Inspiration for Friday… Enjoy!

Visual Inspiration for Friday… Enjoy!

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Personal Narrative.

I hadn’t gone to a concert in almost two years and my ears were aching for the sound of joy to fill them. August 23^rd, 2009 was the date and the cold atmosphere of San Francisco, California could already be felt in my bones before my cousins and I embarked on what would be an epic experience. Sure, I had been anticipating that night for about a month or two, posting Facebook statuses that counted down the days until the show, but I had no idea how the night would actually go. I had a small fear in my heart that it would not be as fun as I hoped because I would be alone most of the night really. I had never gone to a concert alone before and I was slightly dreading it.

I stood outside waiting for my cousins and parents to finish their cigarettes, inhaling their guilty pleasure secondhand. I just wanted to jump in the car and go, go, go! Once the smokes were put out I hugged my parents and falsely agreed to avoid the mosh pits. I hurriedly got into the cramped backseat of the car and buckled up.

I looked out through the window on the right and saw the airport that comes before SFO. Halfway there. I’ve never been really sure, but in my mind, that airport means “halfway there.”

“Wake up and waste a day, chase away, a day at a time and waste away. Clean-faced today, clean taste of yay. Toothpaste makes my orange juice sour. Waste an hour or so, rush hour is slow. The flowers that grow outside of my window are blooming. I’m assuming that you’re comin’ over soon. It’s almost half past four and you called here at noon ’cause there’s a picture that you wanna see. Now I’m not even good at being me anymore.”

Shawn Harris’s voice bounced back and forth from each and every angle of the car. The traffic that we found when we finally got into the city looked as though it would go on forever and I felt as though I’d never reach our destination. The roll of the car’s wheels made my heart jump.

Left and then right, left and then right again, turning on streets I had yet to walk on in San Francisco. I look at the window and see the line to The Fillmore wrapping around the street corner. We parked a couple of blocks down from the venue. I stepped out of the car and could smell the faint essence of urine and feel goose bumps form on my arms. I refused to put my jacket back on. There was no reason to hide from the air.

I walked up the stairs, through the hallway and into the stage area. Purple and red lights flooded the stage and I thought it was one of the most beautiful things in the world. I scuttled my way toward the front most space I could get and stood my ground. The opening bands, Judgement Day and Dizzy Balloon, most definitely prepped me for what was to come. The entire time I quietly bounced along and constantly looked over my shoulder to make sure that my cousins were still close to me. One of my cousins came with a coke at point. He could not have picked a worse time to do it. I had to quickly down the soda before the crazy fans would more than likely trample me if I was not prepared. Dizzy Balloon left the stage and the crowd, including myself, and their love for The Matches rushed towards the stage.

I suddenly didn’t care about being alone. All I cared about was getting a spot close to the stage. I ran as fast as I could toward that platform that would soon prop up my reason for being where I was at that exact moment. I stood waiting for them to step on stage and suddenly felt a bit awkward. I looked around a bit and saw the tall girl that I had been standing behind during the sets of the last two bands. I started awkward conversation…something I never do.

“Sorry, I keep bumping into you.” I apologized to her

“It’s okay. It’s kinda hard to avoid here.” She laughed.

“Yeah, you’re right,” I laughed back, “I’m Candice.”

“Oh, I’m Stephanie.”

“Are you here alone?”

“Yeah, none of my friends could make it.”

“Same here,” I smiled.

Stephanie and I were separated very quickly by the pushing and pulling crowd. For once in my life I didn’t care about my conduct or what the people around me thought, not that they weren’t doing the same. I jumped and screamed the lyrics…when a wave of people pushed me, I pushed back.

I made more conversation with a guy who had been kind enough to act as a human barrier and protect me from the pushing crowd by holding onto me by the shoulders and holding me up the multiple times we almost fell down. It was the end of the show and I introduced myself to a stranger once more…

“Thank you so much for all that!” I smiled.

“It’s no problem,” he smiled back, “I’m Brandon.”

“I’m Candice,” I replied, “Thank you so much again!”

I gave him a big appreciative hug and he walked off. I wasn’t thinking about the sweat that drenched me from the tip-top of my head to the soles of my shoes. I, Candice Alcantara, had hugged a stranger.

422

I wonder what it’s like to be in love with someone who is in love with you back.

Or even in deep like.

I don’t think I can even imagine how it feels.

I need a someone to take up my time.

“I want a lover I don’t have to love” but still could love.

Maybe the Universe just thinks I’m too young…but what does that silly thing know about silly little me?

Quote is from “Lover I Don’t Have to Love” by Bright Eyes.

Chance Poem Version 2.0

Anlenah Cincinnati.
Optimistic alacrity
Pretty simile
For a romping entropy.
Insubordinate.
Constant quest for a party.
La la la la la
Euphoria…verbatim.

Chance Poem.

Euphoria.
Pretty.
Verbatim.
Romping.
Optimistic.
Alacrity.
Quest.
Insubordinate.
Party.
La.
Simile.
Cincinnati.
Anlenah.
Entropy.
Constant.

414

In the car on the way home today

“Copasetic” by Local H came on the radio.

I began to day dream

That I got home

Turned on the song

Lied down on my wannabe hardwood floor

Slit my wrists

And stared at the ceiling.

It’s becoming more frequent now…

Be inspired, or be really, really hungry.

Be inspired, or be really, really hungry.

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