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 |   My first blog about my life, my favorite music, my opinions, my feelings. Whatever. |
This is the first blog I've ever had! You'll have to bear with me because I'm still learning how to do this whole thing. I'll admit that it's bit of a mess right now. I started blogging for "The Soundtrack of Your Life"  and I couldn't just let it end there! I don't think there's any point in keeping a separate blog for all of the blogging groups I want to join. I'm going to keep them all in this one so I can grow into an eclectic pot of confusion.What you'll find here:  My opinions on everything. Blog prompts for various groups. A different song everyday that means something to me. Experiences I've had in lifeWARNING This blog is rated GC and will contain offensive language, stories, and opinions. Please don't read if you're easily offended! My intentions aren't to offend anyone, so trust my warning and turn back now or forever hold your peace!  Things I'll be using this blog for:  "The Soundtrack of Your Life"  "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise"  "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" I want to hear from you! As I mentioned before, this is my first blog. I'd love to hear from anyone who reads this. Leave a comment, rating, or review. Let me know what you like to read about. Have a suggestion for me to write about? I'd love to hear it. The best thing about a blog is the exchanging of opinions between bloggers and readers. I want to keep us all interested. Plus, it's just nice to get a little love sometimes. Let's get to know each other.   Charlie ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **   ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **
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Artist: Van Morrison It's a night for celebration. You've just gotten your GED and your friends want to do the only logical thing- drink until you can't function. You show up at Danny's grandmother's trailer and they all clap when you walk in, beaming proudly at you.Album: Astral Weeks Song: Sweet Thing https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wew9xhazl98 Lyrics "Let's see it!" Noah exclaims, and you hold up the flimsy paper to show it off. "What does that sticker say?" Danny asks, pointing to the shiny, gold sticker on it. "With honors," Hannah answers for you. Then they all go into hysterics clapping their hands and laughing about a GED with honors. Jessie asks what that even means and you shrug. Does it really matter? Noah pours a row of shots, spilling vodka on the coffee table, but no one cares. Jimmy ashes on the floor as he finishes his cigarette. None of you have been taught to respect other people's property. Sure, you wouldn't ash on the floor in your parents' house. But in a trailer like this? You do what you see others doing. After a while of drinking, someone decides to order a couple pizzas. Everyone makes their usual joke of how scrawny you are and they tell you to eat more. You remind them that you don't eat when you're drinking. It's a bad combination. But everything seems perfect that night. Even Jimmy is starting to come around to you a little more and you wonder if what Noah said in his truck a while back still applies. They let you pick the music, which you pretty much do every time you're over now. You make a habit of bringing your huge CD binder over and mixing things up depending on the mood of the party. There are a few more people here tonight that you don't know, but you aren't uncomfortable the way you usually are around strangers. The whole point of this party is to celebrate you, so it's almost like everyone is trying to get to know you better. At some point, Noah decides he wants to dance and tries to grab Jessie from the couch, but she suddenly gets sick and runs to the bathroom. He moves over to Chelsea who is drawing a parrot for one of her classes and has a stern look of concentration on her face. Hannah offers her hand, but Noah turns like he doesn't see her. He raises his eyebrow at you and says, "Charlie? May I?" holding out his hand with a slight bow. You laugh, feeling the alcohol pump through your bloodstream. "Why, yes. Yes you may." The two of you dance silly, then slow dance in the middle of the room to "Sweet Thing" by Van Morrison while everyone else looks on, keeled over with laughter. Jimmy is unimpressed and calls you both gay. Maybe it's the alcohol, but you don't care what the circumstance. It feels really good to hold someone closely and dance to that song. And I will raise my hand up Into the night time sky And count the stars That's shining in your eye |
Artist: The Germs "You're my nineteenth," Hannah announces, her vanilla perfume suddenly taking over the top bunk you share.Album: (MIA) The Complete Anthology Song: Richie Dagger's Crime https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=heG-YH_2RJ4 Lyrics "Nineteenth what?" You ask, genuinely unsure. "Nineteenth person I've slept with, duh." Not knowing what to say, you pull the covers over your lower half and watch the filtered moonlight casting shadows in the small room. "I hate this music. What is this?" she asks, changing the subject. "The Germs." You chose the music tonight, but don't get offended. "Ew. That's a disgusting band name." "It's like, the germ of an idea." "Okay, I'm not sure if that makes it better or worse." Hannah stretches her arms over her head and yawns. "So, what number am I?" You sigh. "You're not a number to me, Hannah." "Oh, come on, Charlie. You don't think I can handle knowing? Just tell me," she pleads, leaning up on one arm to face you. A wicked smile plays over the half of her simple face lit by moonlight. That's the only way her looks could be described. Attractive, but in such a basic, indistinguishable way. There was nothing unique about it. "Do people even keep track of that? Like, I've never known anyone who calls the people they've slept with by a number. That's kinda messed up, honestly." This is uncomfortable in more way than one. For the obvious reasons, of course, but also because you aren't the only two in the room. Noah is in the bottom bunk with Jessie and everyone else is scattered out on the floor with blankets and pillows. Who knows who's asleep, or who's listening to every detail of your conversation. You vaguely note the fact that you're more uncomfortable with people hearing this conversation than you are with them hearing you have sex. Let it pass your mind quickly. "No, I mean, it's not like I just label people with a number. But I think that's, like, a legit question to ask someone you're sleeping with. You know, just, how many people have you slept with?" You sigh as audibly as possible, hoping she'll take the hint. But you've known her for almost a year now and know your wishes are hopeless. "Okay, I literally do not even know. I don't care and I didn't know I was supposed to keep track." "Wow, Charlie? That many?" You hate the sound of feigned pain in her voice. "I'm not doing this. Just go to bed." You roll over, sure that you've found the only way out. There is a long stretch of silence where you almost start to doze off, despite your bad mood. What business was that of hers? Are you supposed to be impressed that a twenty year old has slept with that many people? Is that even a lot? Just when you think it's over, she starts back up again. "Okay, well, I know there was Chelsea and that one redhead girl, then me. That's three right there. But I know you didn't lose your virginity to Chelsea, so that's at least four people. And you're, what, fifteen? Sixteen?" You decide to do the only logical thing- ignore her, just pretend like you're sleeping. "You know, you might think that's a lot for me. But really, you're on track to sleep with like thirty or forty people by the time you're my age. That's kinda fucked up, huh, Charlie? Charlie?" Her math is so off, you almost start laughing. You think about hopping down and leaving. That's how these nights usually end, you slamming the front door of the trailer. Noah running after you and driving you back to your apartment where you can be alone with your writing and your music, only to come do the same thing two nights later. It's just so hard to be alone. You'll let yourself be around miserable people before you'll be alone around your miserable self. Hannah reads your mind. "Oh, what? Are you thinking about running off to your little apartment that Mommy and Daddy are paying for? You know, my parents never gave me anything. Like, nothing at all. You should consider yourself lucky instead of crying around about it like a little bitch all the time." "Leave him alone, Hannah. God," Noah's stern voice speaks up over the music, over her screechy voice. Noah, ever your hero. But it works. Of course it works. How someone can end something so fast with five words is beyond you. Noah's god-like complex escapes you, but the others seem to worship him, hanging on to every word. Hannah rolls over, as far as she can possibly be from you without falling off the bunk. Listen to her shallow breaths slow down, become deeper, as she falls asleep. Feel the itch of the silence and wish you could curl up behind her. |
Artist: Bright Eyes Album: I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning Song: Lua https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5aZh261KZWI Lyrics You're in the passenger seat of your brother's car trying to traverse a thunderstorm on your way to a temporary home. You've been listening to sad music for a few weeks, letting yourself fall into the role of relating to the lyrics. Taking bad advice from sad people is the only solace you have anymore. Your parents are getting a divorce for about the hundredth time since you were born. This time is a little different though, because you and your mother have moved into an apartment an hour away. You sleep on the hard, thin carpet that barely covers the cement floor and lie awake in amazement at the fact that you can hear every single thing your neighbors are doing. You can even hear them urinating in their bathroom. You've never lived in an apartment before, attached to someone else like that. It makes you feel claustrophobic, like you don't even have your own space. Your brother tells you that you have to snap out of this. He asks if therapy is helping. He asks how Mom is doing. He tells you to be strong for her sake. You ask him how he likes college. You tell him you still want to go, even though you dropped out of high school. He says he'll be done with his degree next year. He likes his apartment with your oldest brother. They are enjoying they're freedom. They don't miss Mom and Dad. When you get to the apartment, your mom is moving quickly in the back bedroom. She has two suitcases packed on their rolling wheels in the living room. Exchange sidelong glances with your brother as you edge into the room. Walk back to the bedroom and cross your arms in the doorway. "So, we're going back again?" She turns and gives you a weary look. She sits down on the futon she has been sleeping on. "Charlie, we need to talk about something." Look over your shoulder and see that your brother is still standing in the apartment entrance, like he's ready to run out at any second. "Okay?" "I am going back home. Your father and I are going to go back to therapy and try to work things out." "Okay, so when are we leaving?" You furrow your eyebrows when you see her hedging, wringing her hands. "Look. We think it's best if you stay here for a while. It isn't permanent. Just until we can get our situation figured out. It will be better for you." You step back, feeling stunned. "Whose idea is this? Is this Dad's idea?" She puts her head in her hands, acting completely drained from the conversation already. "The apartment is already paid through May. You might as well stay here. We'll pay for everything. Then in May, we can talk about what to do with you." "What to do with me? I'm your fucking son. I'm sixteen." You shake your head in disbelief. You look back at your brother who is looking out the front door window now, avoiding eye contact and feel your paranoia growing. You wonder who all is in on this. "I'm aware of that, Charlie. But your father and I feel that it's for the best right now. It's not like we won't see you. I think most kids would be excited to live in an apartment alone at your age, especially if they didn't have to pay for anything." "It isn't about the money. You know that," you respond, feeling completely betrayed. But you pause, pull yourself together and nod, "Okay. Cool. Hope everything works out." You turn and stomp past your brother, out of the house still shaking your head. Let the rain fall over your face as he calls after you, but doesn't follow. Smoke a cigarette, covering the cherry with your hand. End up at the 21 and over music club where local bands play. Walk inside, sure that you'll be kicked out immediately by a bouncer, but no one seems to notice you. It's early on a weekday so there are only two patrons and the bartender in there. She keeps an eye on you over the counter while you sit alone in the back. When you get back 'home', the apartment has been mostly cleared and no one is there. You look in the kitchen to see if she left you a note, but there's nothing. Most of the dishes are even gone. An empty apartment, except for your clothing and bins of CD's, journals, and books. You do the only thing you've ever done well, turn on your sad music and write the night away. But me, I'm not a gamble, you can count on me to split The love I sell you in the evening, by the morning won't exist |
Artist: Johnny Horton Album: Johnny Horton's Greatest Hits Song: Whispering Pines https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4HWGtC1JeV4 Lyrics One of your earliest memories is gripping your mother's legs as she tries to drop you off at preschool. She's over her head in college and at her wits' end with your complete freak outs every morning. Your parents say that you'll adjust, but after a month and a half of the same thing, the preschool teachers are fed up. They say you sit by yourself and won't talk to any of the other kids. You aren't adjusting. Your grandfather has to drop you off one day when your mom has to go into school early. He sees the way you react to being taken and refuses to leave you there. In the car on the way to his house, he tells you that they can't make you stay somewhere you don't want to stay. He convinces your parents to let him babysit you instead of going back to preschool. He isn't able to work after his open heart surgery anyway. For the next two years, you spend every day at your grandparents' house hanging out with your grandpa while your grandma works at the doctor's office. You guys make lunch every day and walk it the few blocks to the park nearby where your grandma meets you on her lunch break. Grandpa spends a lot of time playing cards with his headphones on, his portable CD player blaring Hank Williams. You sit on the couch and draw or watch TV. Eventually, the two of you meet in the middle and spend your afternoons listening to old country music while he tells you stories from his childhood back in Kentucky in his one room house with his eleven siblings. He didn't have a father, whether he had died or just left, you never found out. His mother was a crotchety, bitter old woman with abusive tendencies. As you get older, he teaches you how to play some basic card games and tells you all about how much the music had meant to him in his childhood, sitting around the radio with his siblings. One of your favorite singers is Johnny Horton with his deep, emotional voice. Your grandpa teaches you how to understand the lyrics of a song; to take them out and hear them like a story being told. You've done this with music ever since, appreciating the poetical lyrics of true artists. If you ever want to feel nostalgic, all it takes is the opening lines to "Whispering Pines". The snowflakes fall as winter calls and time just seems to fly Is it the loneliness in me that makes me want to cry? |
Artist: The Cure Album: Three Imaginary Boys Song: Object https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MRmQ5EHUt74 Lyrics You're the youngest one at the party, if you could even call it that. It's more like six kids who should be in college hanging out in a trailer, taking swigs straight from two half gallons of vodka. You get offered a drink every few minutes and take the habit of only accepting every third go around, and even then, you just take a sip. It isn't that you're afraid to drink or haven't before. It isn't that you're a pussy, as Jimmy suggests. You're just thinking about an hour from now when someone drunkenly decides to drive to the store for a frozen pizza and everyone is too wasted to realize it's a bad idea. It's your belief that there should always be at least one semi-sober person with reasonable judgement at every 'party'. Tonight is your night. You haven't been hanging out with these guys for long. There's Jimmy, who everyone seems to hate and Noah, who everyone seems to love. Then there's the overly sarcastic Danny, who just listens to Green Day and takes whatever pills he can get his hands on. The trailer belongs to Danny's grandmother who lives in an old folks home now. There are a few girls, too. Hannah, who has slept with literally every guy in the group. Jessie, who drinks more than most of the guys and usually ends up vomiting in the bathroom within the first half hour. Finally, there's Chelsea, who is an artist and spends nearly all of her time drawing on sketchpads or writing in her journal. She's just kind of 'one of the guys'. It's okay if you can't remember them all. They aren't important. Just like clockwork, Jessi jumps up and heads into the bathroom to be sick for the rest of the night, although she did last almost a full hour this time. There's no door on the bathroom because Noah and Danny got into a fight a few weeks ago and broke it. You have to leave the room because the sounds of someone being sick makes you sick. Noah and Chelsea are being the caretakers, holding Jessie's hair and rubbing her back. Danny stays on the couch watching Jackass, happy to have the remaining vodka to himself. You go into the tiny kitchen, which is unfortunately only ten feet from the room where Jessie is doing her business. You stand over the kitchen sink wondering what you're doing hanging out with these guys in the first place. I mean, you've been to parties before where the music is so loud the neighbors call the cops and the house is completely trashed afterwards. This was nothing like that. This was just depressing. You met Noah through your ex, who just happened to cheat on you with him at one of his 'parties'. It's strange to be friends with the person your significant other cheated on you with, but you must not have cared much about her in the first place because the thought of it doesn't affect you. She moved across the country anyway and neither of you are in contact with her anymore, as far as you know. Hannah comes up behind you, plastered and drapes herself over your back. You tense up as her blonde hair falls in your face. You suggest that maybe she should lie down and motion to the couch. You turn to help walk her over there but the second she's able, she starts kissing your neck and pushing you against the counter. You put your hands on her shoulders and gently push her back, but she must not notice because she goes for your lips this time, her hands gripped in your hair. "Hannah, please," you try again, turning your face away. She stops then and stares at you blankly. You tell her that you're sorry, you just aren't comfortable. Watch as her eyes tear up and she suddenly explodes, smacking you hard in the chest. "You're such an asshole! God. Fuck you." She runs into the "Fun Room", yes, that's what they call it, and everyone runs out to meet her and see what's going on. "Charlie- Charlie-" Hannah is slurring, but she's crying so hard she can't get anything out. You stand in the doorway trembling as Jimmy comes at you and grabs you by the collar of your shirt, lifting you onto the tips of your Converse. "What the fuck did you do, Charlie?" he spits, his face red and angry. He reminds you of a bull. "Whoa, whoa! Everyone just step back for a minute. Calm down," Noah jumps between us and I'm released. "Charlie didn't do anything. He would never do anything!" Chelsea screams and now looks like she's going to start crying, too. Luckily, Hannah has regained her composure and jumps to your defense. "No, it's not him. It's me. I thought he liked me, but I guess not," her chin trembles as she glares at me with her glazed eyes. "It isn't that," You try, Jimmy still towering over me, his hands clenched into tight fists. "I don't want to have sex right now," You mumble the 'sex' part as quietly as possible, and Danny laughs loudly from his spot on the couch. Hannah starts crying again, "Yeah, I guess you're just out of my league. Huh, Charlie?" She runs into the bathroom where she surely she would slam the door, if there was one. Everyone stares at you like you've just committed the ultimate party foul. "I didn't do anything," You say, finally breaking the silence, but you don't even have the confidence to look anyone in the eyes. "Don't worry, Hannah," Jimmy calls over his shoulder. "Charlie must just be a queer to not want to sleep with you." "Let's just give him a break," Noah tries, but Jimmy has been in love with Hannah for God knows how long and he isn't going to just drop it. "I mean, shit, you're fifteen years old and you're gonna turn down a hot college girl? The hell is wrong with you?" Jimmy persists. "Hannah's in college?" You ask, and Jimmy throws his hands up completely exasperated. "I'll just leave," you decide, grabbing your backpack and heading out the flimsy door of the trailer. Behind you the girls are yelling for you to wait and just come back. You even hear Hannah's voice, but you've made up your mind. How can you go back and face Jimmy with his flared nostrils and angry sneer? You start heading down the street, fully aware that it's two o'clock in the morning and you're fifteen miles from home. You hear the door of the trailer slam shut and you're sure it's Jimmy back to rough you up some more. "Hey, man, sorry about that. I think everyone's just a little drunk. It'll blow over." You look up at Noah with his ever-sympathetic face. "Come on, let me give you a ride."   You sit in the passenger seat of Noah's truck as he bobs his head to the music. You aren't sure what band it is, but there's a lot of screaming and you don't like it. It's an awkward ride as you get out of the trailer park and onto the highway. After what seems like an eternity, you can't contain it any longer. "I didn't do anything wrong." "I know. It's just, like, sometimes it's easier to just do something to avoid hurting someone else's feelings. It's a sensitivity thing." You stare at him, bewildered. "I didn't even say I wasn't attracted to her. It's like, she's drunk and I'm not. Besides, she's been with, like, everyone, you know..." You let your voice trail off, sure that you're going to get punched any second. "Look, it's fine, Charlie. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. But you kinda gotta expect the guys to give you a hard time about it. I mean, she doesn't care if she's drunk. You know Hannah. She's always drunk." You look out the window as the stars pass by and realize that the world is moving a step slower than your brain. You're a little drunk, too. "I don't want sloppy fifths or whatever. Sorry." Noah stares at you and you wish he would look back at the road, even if there are no other drivers this late at night. "Maybe you should try not being such an asshole. Then maybe the guys would like you." "Danny likes me," you argue. "No, he actually doesn't. And the girls only like you because you're like a little accessory for them, with your whole shy, nervous guy act." "What the hell are you talking about?" "Jesus, Charlie, never mind. Would ya put on your seatbelt?" You've been pushed too far though and in your current state of defiance, you lean forward and turn to him. "I've been nothing but nice to your friends. If they don't like me, that's their problem. What did Danny say about me?" The truck speeds up and bumps along the dark highway. "I'm not talking to you until you put your seatbelt on." "Are you kidding me with the seatbelt thing? I'm trying to have a fucking conversation here. You know what? Maybe you guys shouldn't invite me next time. Find someone else to drink until they pass out every Friday night in a depressing little trailer. I'm sure you've got the connections." "Yeah? Well, I think we'll do that. Put your goddamn seatbelt on." The truck lurches forward and you bounce in the seat, hitting your side into the dashboard. "What is this music? Where is the CD I made you?" You grab the CD visor hanging over Noah's head and accidentally knock a bunch of CD's into his lap. "Christ, Charlie! Are you trying to cause an accident? I ask one thing of you. One fucking thing. You know my dad died because he wasn't wearing his seatbelt, and even knowing that, you still won't do the one goddamn thing I asked you to do. This is why you're an asshole." You stop suddenly, realizing what a strange scene this has become. You gather the CD's you can and pick out the one you burned for him. You put it in and flip straight to the only track you want to hear. You sit back in your seat and connect the seatbelt, watching Noah's shoulders instantly relax next to you. "Just take me home." Reaching for the volume knob, you let the song's irony guide you through the night. Don't try to hold me Cause I don't want any ties You're just an object in my eyes. |
Artist: The Bouncing Souls Album: Hopeless Romantic Song: Kid https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A8Dlxcwf6G8/ Lyrics Everyone tells you you're making a mistake. The principal reminds you that you're one of the top students in your grade. Your English teacher tells you that you're the best writer she has ever had in her class. Her feelings seem hurt when you remind her that she has only been teaching for two years. You wish everyone would just let you make your own decision. You turn in your books on a Tuesday. Each teacher has to sign off on them, so you have to hear the same lecture seven times in a row. Your history teacher even starts crying after class when you hand her your book. You apologize for upsetting her, but tell her you have therapy in ten minutes and you can't be late. Get in your car and let the loud music hit you in the face. Were you really listening to it at that volume on your way in? The Bouncing Souls have become your support group lately. You don't need people to tell you that you're sixteen and you aren't ready to make these life-altering decisions on your own. You know that. You aren't trying to hurt anyone. You're a good kid. Pay attention now Or it'll slip by It's your heart, don't let it die Leave it all behind |
Artist: The Rolling Stones Album: Sticky Fingers Song: Moonlight Mile https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Gy3PH4Sf6g Lyrics You look out on the night sky through the second story window in a room that reeks of cat urine. Reach out and feel the leaves of a tree between your fingers. Breathe in the brisk fall air, fill your lungs, and know that winter is coming. Try to connect the stars and forget which direction you're facing. The bedroom door opens and your uncle stumbles in, drunk as always and trying to tell your cousin that he needs to learn how to fight. Watch the two of them go back and forth for a few minutes before your uncle gives up and crashes back into the hallway. Listen to your cousin complain about his father and nod, but only think, he gave me this gift. Reach for the stereo and instinctively skip backwards to the last track on the album. Track ten. Your uncle likes songs like, "Miss You" and "Brown Sugar" so he calls you a depressing eight-year-old. Feel raindrops start splattering through window. Let them hit your face as you lie down on the bare mattress. Listen to the chorus and think of winter again. Smile to yourself and ponder the fact that you choose to be here rather than home. When the wind blows and the rain feels cold With a head full of snow In the window, there's a face you know Don't the nights pass slow? |
Artist: Bob Dylan You're thirteen years old, alone in your room at three in the morning. You should be hanging out with your friends on a Friday night or sleeping at the very least, but you aren't. Instead, you've been spending most of your free time pacing around feeling angry for no discernible reason. Everybody has left me. This is something that has been in your mind for a while, after your older siblings went off to college and your two best friends moved away all within a year of each other.Album: Bringing It All Back Home Song: It's All Over Now, Baby Blue https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=01h1dMOc_lU Lyrics Your phone rings and it's your older brother. "Dude, I've been up all night listening to this song. You have to hear it," he rambles excitedly and puts the phone right up to the stereo speaker just to pick up that extra static. Hear the song start, then hear the guy's voice and think, This can't be real. Listen to the whole thing until your brother's familiar voice is back on the line. "Isn't it great?" Well, you can't disappoint him? Wasn't it great? "I've been listening to this one song since like two o'clock in the afternoon." "Yeah, his voice is..." you start. Hear, "You like his voice. You just don't know it yet," in response. "Listen to the song and go look up the lyrics so you can read along. It's Bob Dylan- It's All Over Now, Baby Blue. I know you, you'll like it." With that, the friendly voice is gone, but lives on with each listen of the song. You don't know it yet, but you've just discovered your favorite musician. Yonder stands your orphan with his gun, Crying like a fire in the sun. |
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I really had to purse my lips to contain my laughter at this post...I didn't want to look too crazy doubling over from
