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Out of all the crazy niches in the internet porn industry, it’s not the beastiality nor the 50-year old gangbangs that makes me want to rip my eyeballs out of my skull and donate them to some poor blind kid. If I have to I can probably stomach scat and necrophelia. Of course, I wouldn’t eat for days and I’ll get creeped out for more reasons than one every time I attend a funeral. But those are just peanuts. What I really can’t bear to look at is teen porn.

Despite the fucked-up things I’ve seen and the cool been-there-done-that front I put on when I want people to think that I’m awesome, I still haven’t lost the capacity to get shocked and disgusted. And nothing appalls me more than this. I find teen porn particularly unsettling because my constructed notion of female porn stars is that they have eyeliner eyebrows and plastic surgery breasts. They look like the kind of girls who’d pretty much screw any horny guys that go their way, so it’s no wonder they’re in the porn industry. But the girls in the teen porn niche look like white versions of my 16-year old cousins. Hell, they look like white versions of me when I still looked like a wholesome teenager. I felt a little bile come up my throat when I came across these websites of twin teenagers doing all sorts of interesting things with their hands and mouths. Which of course made all sorts of horrible imagery pop up in my head when I started thinking along the lines of, “Oh god, if my sister and I were internet porn stars together…” *shudder*

I got hit so hard by this because I was once an eighteen-year old girl who thought she knew it all. I thought I knew exactly how my life would turn out. I was so convinced that I would marry a guy who never let me have my own friends and who’d freak out if other guys so much as breathed in my direction. Yeah that just goes to show my perfect judgment and the intelligent life decisions I had for myself at that age. These girls probably think that they’re going to be porn superstars, and they’re willing to let guys cum on their faces and do all sorts of degrading things in order to get that big break. But all industries kill those who don’t make it to the top, and I can just imagine how psychologically damaging it would be for an amateur teen porn model to fail. Who’d take you seriously if people found out you used to do porn? What kind of decent guy would marry a woman who fucked twenty guys all at once and never even knew their names? Or saw their faces properly? I know I wouldn’t.

My stand on pornography has always been somewhat positive. I wouldn’t exactly pimp DVD porno movies on the streets or anything like that but I figure that as long as the act is consensual and the actors receive all the payment and benefits that are promised to them, go fuck for the camera for all I care. I’m starting to rethink that though. Just because you’re eighteen and you’re allowed to vote and own properties and do other legal things, it doesn’t mean that you’re smart. It doesn’t mean that you’re emotionally mature enough to handle all the shit life throws at you. It doesn’t mean that you’ll be able to live with the fact that when you were once young and stupid, you were an internet porn star. Hell, I can’t even live with some of the stuff I did before and those weren’t even anywhere near as scandalous as this.

So now that I’ve successfully depressed myself this morning, I think I’ll go out for a long break to clear my head and neuroticize before getting back to work.

I finally finished tweaking the song I wrote last night and out of boredom and sheer excitement, I decided to record it. For obvious reasons I couldn’t exactly drag Kristel over to my place so I’m the one doing the singing here. Please don’t expect much out of my voice; there’s a reason why I’m doing back-up vocals, after all.

Escape is a song that encapsulates what I feel about depression and the desperation to do something – anything – to get myself out of that funk. As I’ve mentioned in my previous entries, I realized that traveling gives me a vacation from life and from myself, but it’s a vicious cycle really. The happier I am when I’m traveling, the more depressed I get when I have to return.

We’ve decided to retain the name Borderline Virgins for our band although Kimi, our original bassist, will be sorely missed. It won’t be the same without her.

Escape
Download here

I’m going away today
I’m tired of running this race
I’m packing my bags
I’m not looking back
at this sordid space

Don’t know where I’ll end up
but it’s gotta be better than this
I’ll take one for the road
cos it’s something that I’m gonna miss

I’m flying away
from this desolate place
from this desperate state
I’ll be happy today
but it’s just an escape
but it’s just an escape
The moment fades

I’m riding a speeding bus
down a road that I’ve never been
I’m letting the wind chase down
the sweat crawling out of my skin

Don’t know where I am now
but that doesn’t matter to me
Reality’s too far
and the sunlight is all I can see

I’m flying away
from this desolate place
from this desperate state
Hey hey hey
I’ll be happy today
but it’s just an escape
but it’s just an escape

Don’t want to go back to
the place where I should belong
Tomorrow comes too soon
and then everything good will go wrong

I’ll do all that it takes
to get out of this place
to get out of this state
Hey hey hey
I’ll be happy someday
cos someday I’ll escape
cos someday I’ll escape

Na na na na na na
Na na na na na na
Na na na na na na
Hey hey hey
Na na na na na na
Na na na na na na
Na na na na na na
The moment fades

Last night, I stayed in for the first time in weeks. After the first social engagement got canceled, I quickly put Plan B into action but by the time my friends got back to me, I was too lazy to get up and get dressed. Plus my parents have been complaining that I never stay in and spend quality evenings with them. By “quality evenings” I mean, me in my room, my sister in her room, my mom in her room, and my dad downstairs watching TV. The Dado family all under one roof.

At first I was panicky about my lack of Saturday night plans. It occurs to me that I’ve grown an aversion to spending time with myself, and that lately I’ve been desperately filling up my social calendar so as to avoid those long evenings with me and my lonesome. When I’m alone I get depressed and when I get depressed–well, getting depressed isn’t exactly the best way to party on a Saturday night, is it?

But I’m all for trying out new things. So last night, I decided to skip all social activities and take up my shrink’s advice and “sit with my Depression.” The problem with me (and most people I suppose) is that I do everything it takes to avoid being depressed or deny that I’m feeling that way. But there are times when sitting down and just feeling the depression is healthy. I forgot why exactly it’s supposed to be healthy but I ignored that little detail and decided to go along with this plan. I didn’t really have much to do.

So I sat with Depression in the bathroom while Elliott Smith sang to us about faking it through the day with some help from Johnny Walker Red. I sat there for a very long time, not really thinking or doing anything. At first I thought I’d try to figure out why I was feeling depressed but once I did that, I realized it didn’t make me feel any better. Eventually, I got bored sitting with Depression because he’s really not that much fun to be with. Plus, he keeps smoking my cigarettes, which I think is very rude.

So I picked up my guitar (I had gone into my room at this point) and played a random chord. Then I played another random chord. Pretty sound the random chords started sounding good together and I had a nice little riff going right there. I sang out gibberish to the melody I made and after a while, there were words to sing along to the music as the gibberish became coherent sentences. I was amazed. It’s been months since I last wrote a song all by myself–guitars and lyrics and all–so I was pretty fucking stoked. The song I made is called Escape and it’s about doing whatever it takes to be happy and to get way from the lousy state you’re in. Of course it’s chock-full of angst and I’m sure a lot of people would say that it sucks, but who cares? I wrote a song and although it needs some tweaking, I’m pretty fucking happy with it. It’s been a while since I created something I actually like. Depression might be a lousy conversationalist, but he’s good for inspiration.

Every time I get depressed, I stay that way for a while because I keep thinking that I’ll never be happy again. Which is both true and not true, when you come to think of it. If what I want is the happily-ever-after ending propaganda spread by fairy tales and Disney cartoons, of course I’m never going be happy. But life, the way I see it, is like a long dark hallway with little dim lamps placed at random intervals. It’s all a matter of trying to find the will and determination to keep walking that scary hallway to reach those sparks of light, those brief rare moments where happiness in its purest form can be tasted, before the world goes dark again.

Kristel once told me that depression and happiness is overrated. The only thing we should strive for, she said, is calm. I guess you can say that last night, I was the calmest I’ve been in a while. Calm is good. It’s just staying in the moment, accepting things as they come without angsting about how things should be better, blah blah blah. Because no matter how much you wish things were better, they’re not. So you might as well just go with the flow, acknowledge whatever it is you’re feeling, and keep walking that long dark hallway towards the light. The yellow glow of the lamps is very very pretty.