You Do the Math

2004-10-06T13:21:00.000-07:00

Murrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. >.<

Annie just associated me, in the People-Word association thing at the bottom, with the words insecure, angry and moody.

Angry and moody, yes. Insecure, no. Not at the moment, anyway.. though that may be just me.

And she didn't associate me with violent. I'm not sure whether this is good or bad- whether I've improved, or whether she's just not scared by me and my spontaneous movements anymore..

So I'll do it too! :D

P e o p l e A s s o c i a t i o n . . .
(Name the people that you associate with the following words)
Open minded: Cory
Arrogant: Sherry
Insecure: Betty
Interesting: Teatime
Random: Neraru
Attractive: ..Teatime. For obvious reasons.
Smart: Max Resinger (sp?) who always gets a near-perfect score on our AP tests. I want to strangle him.
Moody: ..Me.
Ambitious: A certain gold-digger whose name begins with N..
Healthy: Betty.
Shy: I don't know any shy people. Everyone I know is very outgoing, which annoys the heck out of me. Rae, I guess.. xD
Difficult: Cory
Buffed: Arnold Schwartzannegger..
Bored easily: Greenie.
Drunk: BLINKY! xD
Responsible: ..Definitely not Blinky. Erm.. perhaps Dakor..?
Obsessive: Me.
Angry: My father.
Sad: Me.
Happy: Judy.
Hyper: My sister.
Talkative: Annie, definitely.
Illegal: Blinky.
Cute: Teatime.
Violent: My mother.
Unpredictable: Avvie.
Repetition: Annie.
Drama: Moi, moi, moi. At least, online.

2004-10-06T13:18:00.000-07:00

I am officially swearing off all MOOs.

Why? Because I just did the equivalent of falling on my face into two puddles of-- and let's be frank-- horse piss. Not just on one, oh no, but TWO of them. They were perfectly friendly there, which made me feel even more stupid.

Why is it that you can't backspace on the damn MOOs? Die, die, DIE!

Today was a day of embarrassments. Not good, not bad, just incredibly embarrassing.

Come, people-- talk to me. I need the comfort of people-loving-me.

2004-10-05T15:29:00.000-07:00

I'm feeling slightly better today-- or at least less irritated.

On the other hand, I'm faintly worried about Rae-not-having-been-on-the-Internet-in-24-hours.

Yes, I'm paranoid. Yes I'm easily stressed. Yes I admit that this is mostly because I want someone to talk to about everything today-- and lack of everything-- and she's the person I usually talk to about it.

Ooh.. sounds like an interesting conversation in the Kitchen. Shall automatically eavesdrop. ;)

Ciao.

2004-10-04T17:32:00.000-07:00

Ye gods.. -laughs- This is like the Blog wars, isn't it? But I just have to respond to Annie. It feels like backing down if I don't, and I won't be cowed. Not by someone who calls me immoral, and never thinks for the consequences in my thoughts. It's so stupid to harp on a comment so carelessly tossed, and yet I do. I do because for all that we know each other very little, Annie is something of a pillar in my life. She's been in it long enough that it is what she is to me, for all that she participates very little in it.

Better that a life be discarded than let it come into the world unwanted? Who are you to judge if that baby is unwanted? So the parents might not have wanted this baby...what about the grandparents? The neighbors next door who haven't seen a close up baby in a decade? The lonely widower who lives three doors down? God?

I am not the one to judge, nor have I implied that I was. However, I feel that the option should be available to the parents, should they not want to go through the pain of having a child. I know that an abortion can be a painful thing for parents and babies alike. And yet I think it's better than the lifetime of regret that might be left at the parents' door if they should simply abandon the baby to the orphange. At least in death, according to Christian doctrine, the babies are given a chance at happiness.

...every single baby is wanted , in some way or another.

Walk a mile in these sneakers, dear, and say that again. I've heard that comment so many times, and it's always used to cover a hypocrisy, a tyranny. This may just be me. And then again, it may not be.

How can you say that Abortion is right because that child wouldn't be loved anyways, when in reality that child may very well be loved and grow up to become an amazing person.

We all have that self-same potential. And I'm not saying that the child wouldn't be loved anyways, I'm saying that in a way, the parent may always resent them for whatever life course they'd have to take if they bore the child. If they abandoned the child, they may brood upon it with regrets for the rest of their life. And I don't care how they sinned- if you don't have empathy for a person in pain, you're not a true Christian. No one deserves to suffer for the entirety of their lifetime.

How can you know that when that child grows up he or she inspires the world in more ways than you can imagine, when you don't give them the chance? How can you claim that you're doing the child a favor when in truth you just don't know if they will view it as a favor, because they'll never get a chance to plead for their life?

I don't believe I said that I was doing the child a favor. However, in lieu of the unsentinent child, the parents are required to make decisions. You can only sit and pray and hope that they make the correct ones, but in the end, even you, with your forceful brutality and vivid passion for 'what is right', cannot force their hand, force them to do what you want them to do. People are not your pawns, Annie. They are not toys for you, or any Greater Being to manipulate.

We have always been mortal, and bound, chained to our fates. But we can choose what chains we have, and that's what makes us unpredictable.

How can you believe in a society where mistakes are always met by consequences, when in this case mistakes are met by murder?

I prefer to think of it as a mistake being rectified. Not in the best way, perhaps-- because I do know that death isn't the best way to solve this-- but rectified all the same.

The place where we differ, Annie, is that you believe that the child should be spared all the pain at birth, and given more when it is born, and that the parent should suffer, because they sinned. I'd like to spare them pain all around, though the parent may suffer regrets over the abortion. But I can't help that. And as far as I can see, it's the best way to go. But then, in the end, it's still up to the parents.

How can you think that just because people are doing it everywhere, that it's right, morally.

I didn't say that people are doing it everywhere with the implications that it's right- just that people are doing it still, regardless of its morality.

How can you build a government on democracy and justice...what type of justice do those babies get?

Surely you don't think that you were sensible enough to make your own decisions when you were a baby? Some decisions simply have to be made by those who are conscious enough to make them.

And when you make it illegal, maybe, just maybe, people will think twice before trying to play God with their own hands. And Mr. Kerry believes in this...

Have you ever heard the term "flesh of my flesh, and blood of my blood"?

We are no longer God's creations. We are the mutilated, the mutated descendents of the pure beings that God created. We are the warped, the changed, who must live out our lives as best we can. And the best that I can see is to unmake what has been seeded in the womb, late though the plucking be, though early, and it spoil the fruit.

I honestly don't give a damn about Mr. Kerry-- however, you said that he supported legal abortion, which I agreed with. Which was how that came about.

Any more questions?

2004-10-04T17:10:00.000-07:00

1.Name: Real name or the name that I go by? o_O
2. Do you like it? The name I go by? Definitely. Avvie thinks that I'm a squibby dork for it, but still.
3. Nicknames: I guess Gwen counts. I want to try Gwyn, but nooo..
4. Screen names: MoroseHarpy?
6. Birthday: 03/15/90
7. Sign: Pisces
8. Location: Mason, OH.
9. Status: Rather depressed, I guess. But gods, doesn't that sound dramatic?
10. Crush: Teatime, naturally.
12. Natural hair color: Black that shines brown in the light.
13. Current hair color: Black that shines brown in the light. But I'm thinking about tipping it with blue right before cutting it.
14. Eye color: I'd like grey contacts. But black.
15. Height: Five foot five point five.
16. Birthplace: Montreal.
17. Shoe size: No idea.
-----------------------------FAVORITES:

1. Number: 9 or 7 or 3.
Color: Black and silver and gold.
3. Day: Saturday
4. Month: December- winter break. The streets frosted with ice and starry snow. What's not to love?
5. Song at the moment: Chained to You, Savage Garden.
6. Movie: I'd say Yu-Gi-Oh, but let's face it, the plot was beyond contempt. So maybe Miss Congeniality? I don't know..
7. Food: Milky Way.
8. Band: Vertical Horizon.
9. Sport: Batminton rocks. With a little shoutout for tennis on the side.
10. Class: Honors English, I guess.
Teacher: Ever? Probably Ms. Ward- she's terribly nice.
Drink: Tomato juice.
14. TV station: Probably Fox-- for FoxBox on the weekends.
Radio station: Whatever plays my favorite songs.
Store: Barnes and Nobles/Chapters/Half-Price Books/Borders.
Expression: "Murr."
18. Animal: Cats- despite impending allergies.
19. Flower: However stupid this is.. roses. The dark red kind that look like blood incarnated.
-----------------------------
1. Me or you: Me, sorry.
2. Coke or pepsi: Neither-- they taste the same.
3. Day or night: Night. Sleep. Internet. Looove iiit.
5. CD or cassette: CD, definitely.
8. Car or truck: Car, of course. Who likes a roaring engine?
9. Tall or short: Languidly lanky, if you please. Short inevitably leads to a stout middle age.
11. *Nsync or BSB?: Backstreet Boys. NSYNC reminds me of a horrible pun.
12. Gap or Old Navy: Neither. I loathe clothes-shopping.
13. Lipstick or lipgloss: Urgh.. DEFINITELY neither!
14. Silver or gold: Can't decide. Silver has that sheeny elegance, but gold is lustrous.
-----------------------------LOVE & RELATIONSHIPS:
1. Do you have a bf/gf?: Not for lack of trying, dear. Incidentally, would you go out with me?
2. Do you have a crush?: Of course.
3. How long have you liked him/her? About one and three-quarters years ago.
-----------------------------THE PRESENT:THE PAST:
1. What is the one thing you would change about your past?: There was once this guy that I liked from about 5-6th grade. He moved in sixth grade after crushing on my best friend.. but I still wish, sometimes, that I'd told him.
Then I could get over him and his fading images, which seem to haunt the present Teatime.
2. What is the biggest mistake you've made in your life?: Not listening to Avvie. This happens often.
4. Last thing you saw?: A Yu-Gi-Oh episode.
5. Last thing you said: "I hate you."
6. What is the last TV show you saw?: Yu-Gi-Oh.
7. What is the last song you heard?: Everything You Want, Vertical Horizon.
-----------------------------WHOSE THE LAST PERSON YOU...
1. Saw?: Mother.
2. Hugged?: Rae..
3. Fought with?: Mother.
----------------------------
1. What are you wearing?: -arches a brow- What would you say if I said.. nothing? Anyway, dark-green long-sleeved shirt, and flared dark-blue jeans that are becoming rather worn.
2. What are you doing?: My history homework. Sort of.
3. Who are you talking to?: Avvie. Myself.
4. What song are you listening to?: In my head, I'm listening to Sheryl Crow's Bad Day.
5. Where are you?: The computer room.
6. Who are you with?: I am entirely alone with my thoughts.
7. Are you online?: Yes.
8. How are you feeling?: Faintly confused/depressed.
9. Are you in a chatroom?: No.
-----------------------------FUTURE:
1. What day is it tomorrow?: Tuesday.
2. What are you going to do after this?: History homework. -shifty eyes-
3. Who are you going to talk to?:Anyone who will answer my questions.
4. Where are you going to go?: My room.
5. How old will you be when you graduate?: Probably seventeen?
What do you wanna be?: A writer, of course.
7. What are your dreams?: I often dream that I'm a smore, being slowly roaste-- right. Ambitious dreams. Erm.. I dream of being famous.
8. Where will you be in 25 years?: Let's see.. I'll be famous, a therapist, and single because despite maturing, I'll still look like hell, and act like the shit that got stepped on, which is definitely not the way to catch a guy. Yes, catch. Like you throw little nets at them.
-----------------------------OTHER:
1. Do you write in cursive or print?: I scrawl. Which means I can't read it.
2. Are you a lefty or a righty?: Right-o.
4. What piercings do you have?: None.
5. Do you drive?: Not at the present time. Come back in a while, dear.
6. Do you have glasses or braces?: Just glasses.

Hit List:
Er..
1) My mother, just because.
2) Annie, who says that I am immoral for supporting same-sex marriages, despite being heterosexual.
3) Judy, who says that she does not know me.

2004-10-04T13:50:00.000-07:00

Someone I've known for two years calls me immoral now, and won't take it back.

Someone else I've known for two years says that she doesn't know me that well, doesn't know me at all, and therefore cannot judge.

The only person who agrees with me completely and actually understands my viewpoint lives several states across.

What did I do to get such a screwy life?

The day started off great.. but then swiftly got depressing. I mean.. I don't know Judy that well, but I know her well enough to say that she's nervous-but-not before her presentations, that she likes to talk about other people a bit (read: gossip), that she doesn't get too depressed about herself often, and some other things that're hardly worth mentioning. I know that she's not evil. I know that she can't be immoral; not with the viewpoint of her that I have.

Apparently she doesn't know me the same way.

Annie.. Annie I could have expected this from. Annie has been a traitorous, smiling gossiper from Day One. And she's good at it. And she's so congenial that somehow you just take this in about her, and you don't care, because she's pretty, and she acts friendly, and she's nice, even if she does brush me off all the time. But I wouldn't have expected it from Judy.

I guess I don't know these people after all.

2004-10-04T11:45:00.000-07:00

I act muy differente around my Masonites than I do around Rae- with Rae, I'm everything that I've ever wanted to be-- if I'm hyper, she'll understand and be hyper too. If I'm annoyed, and explain it to her, chances are she'll understand why. (Unless it's about an intermediate who's not living up to his/her/its potential, in which case she will most probably defend the intermediate, and probably with good reason.) If I'm joyful, even if she's not there, she shares in my joy. Or something like that.

But with hyperness at Mason.. I get weird looks. Or weirder theories.

Me: -grinning hugely and chattering swiftly about the trip to Tennessee-
Shining: -refers back to previous entry- You talk like you're in love with her and everything. You know, you're going to turn out to be, like, a lesbian or something.
Me: Murr. -_-;;;;;;

It's not so much something against them (I have NOTHING against female blueriders-- trust me on this one!) but I know exactly how heterosexual I am. And I am 100% goldrider-straight.

Besides, what annoys me is that platonicity can't be left on its own; if we obsess about platonic love too much, then it becomes true love, and nevermind heterosexuality. What's WRONG with platonic bonds (no, not that kind of bonds) and the idea that we can love someone without lusting after them?

JUST BECAUSE I THINK THAT RAE UNDERSTANDS ME BETTER THAN ANYONE ELSE I'VE EVER MET DOES NOT MAKE ME A LESBIAN.

Now that /that's/ out of my system..

My day was great. I've never actually felt so alive before. And I *was* alive. Every centimeter of me soaked in the sunlight, delighted in the murmurs of the crowd, pushed back when someone pushed against me, and stood tall to every single inch of my 5'5.5"-ness.

I don't think I noticed any specific things about my day that was great, though. It was great in general, very, very broad terms.

Now.. since everyone seems to be taking a stand on the presidential debates thing, let me insert my own two cents, little though they matter (and this is based on what I've read in Annie's blog, because I was too busy spending time down in Tennessee to catch any presidential debates):

I would vote for Bush if I could, just because of that whole Medical Bill thing that Kerry has going for him, and the apparent emptiness.

HOWEVER.

I feel that Kerry has several good points, INCLUDING the whole viewpoint on homosexual marriages and abortion. And since I'm basing this on Annie's blog-stuff, why not just take it directly from the source, and quote from her as well?

"..wait til they get to issues that deal with moral standards/codes. Do you realize that Kerry would:
1. Support legal abortion

All right.. here's my stand on legal abortion (taken partially from Peter David's Knight Life, where I feel he got a really good point going). People are going to abort, regardless of whether it's legal or not. People're aborting NOW. And I don't care what they say about "Oh, it's a little life being discarded.. blahr blahr blahr." I KNOW it's a real life, however little. I KNOW. But better that a life be discarded than let it come into the world unwanted.

And regardless of what you say about adoption, I KNOW. That's why some people, when they get an unwanted pregnancy, don't abort, and carry the baby to term. And then they send them out to an orphanage.

That's damned sad, people. I know that I'd rather die than grow up with total strangers as my parents, and realize, eventually, that somewhere out there, there was someone who saw me, and thought that I wasn't worth keeping. I would rather be dead than realize that there's a maternal bond out there whose bonds are completely adrift.

But hey, that's just me. Maybe you'd enjoy being loved by strangers, hated/resented/uncared-for by the one who is your flesh and blood.

2. Not pick Supreme Court nominee justices who disagreed with legal abortion

That's sensible. If I were president, I would hardly be stupid enough to pick people who disagreed with my policies. I don't CARE what they say about having an equal view-- unanimity is more efficient than an equal view. People who are equal inevitably disagree at some level. That's why inequality was so hard to get rid of- the people at the top were the bosses, the people at the bottom were slaves, and both were too used to it, ingrained into their habits, to understand the betterness of equality.

3. Oppose a constitutional amendment that banned same-sex marriages"

Same-sex marriages sound perfectly A-OK to me. I want to believe in reincarnation. So sometimes the Deity Up There maybe gets a little ironic and puts a guy-soul into a girl-body (or vice versa). And puts his lover into another girl-body (or just of the same gender as the vice versa). That's not their fault, if that happens. Why shouldn't they be allowed to get married if they want to? It is NOT unnatural (and don't you give me that clever little rhyme about Adam and Steve); it is okay.

At least-- and here's my real opinion on it-- it's okay, as long as it's not happening to me.

As long as no lesbians propose to me, I am perfectly happy with the idea of same-sex marriages. Got meh?

Because I don't believe in true love. And having both sexes to choose from would considerably widen your chances of ever finding one. So that's a good thing, in my opinion.

And nowww.. time to go find Annie and pick a fight. :P

2004-10-03T17:03:00.000-07:00

(Written under the influence of lack-of-sleep and Blood Canticle. Lestat has changed.)

It's been maybe a few hours, a few minutes, a few seconds since I said goodbye to Rae- originator of the Satanical Duck, which is now mine, mine, MINE- and I' staring at the screen, pure white, of the computer.

I'm in shock.

I'm confused, bemused, and all of those lovely words that roll off of the tongue with a trill.

But don’t start on your pity roll yet, baby, because I'm not done. Don't tell me about how my fantasy world is always better than the reality. In the words of some mortally dead person or another, you ain't seen nothin' yet.

Don't assume that just because I’m in shock, this trip was bad.

In point of fact, this trip might well be one of the best things that's ever happened to me.

I lament all the time, my voice low, my voice high, my voice faint and squeaky to the point where I realize that there’s no way I can be this tired—but I am! I am so tired, but I am enjoying it. I enjoy the weary-in-the-bone ache that courses through my body. It's like another kind of adrenaline. A better but worse kind.

What do I lament?

I lament that there’s no one like me. That everyone is so unique at my school, but always the same, always unlike me. They understand me, but not to the core. They can say what I'll say and do next, but they don't understand the motivations behind that. And most of all, they will never say the same things with me.

I am normal. I am your typical crazy Gothic-touched, tear-ridden teenager who will sit in her bedroom for hours and hours, sitting and staring at the walls and smiling and typing and—

But you’re not here for that. You're here, wondering, was Rae that forty year old rapist after all? Am I? And why am I in shock about the trip in the first place?

Well I'm not forty years old.

And it's odd, because on the trip, while lamenting, I met someone like me. Too much like me.

I'd be sitting there, thinking thoughts of my own, we'd converse and think all the more on it. And I would think and reach a certain thought. And- bam! she would say it. My own thoughts in someone else's mouth.

It happened to the both of us, often enough so that it felt weird, not so often that it got tiresome.

Tiresome.

It's hard to imagine anyone less tiresome than Rae.

There are some people out there who are –damned- gorgeous. They make you want to drool at them, to love and worship them, to strangle them because you know that you can never live up to them. They make you want to laugh because their perfection is absurd in this world, and cry because if it’s so absurd, then what the hell are they doing, existing on this planet?

I'm not one of them.

She's not one of them either, but she's so.. splendid (splendiferous?), in a way. It's hard to imagine someone different, someone vivid as she is. It's hard to imagine someone as alive as she is. But once you do, she exists, she’s alive, and it’s.. something akin to an honor to meet her.

I was flattered.

I mean, come on! You walk in, meet the kind of person whose face and voice you’d never forget, and suddenly, you realize. She’s your idol. She’s everything that you’ve ever looked for in your authors, but most of all, she’s here, she’s alive, and she’s-

Too damned modest for her own good, that’s what she is. (And you know it’s true!)

We had fun- or at least, I did. She gave me a pottery sculpture of a firelizard guarding her eggs, and I gave her six books- two Diana Wynne Jones collections, one Crown Duel, Elvensbane, and two other ones I can’t remember. She gave me a watercolor painting of a blue dragon, and I smiled helplessly because I had nothing else to give her. She gave me a little bobble-head turtle that she’d picked up on the way here and had thought was cute. I smiled and enjoyed the view.

Never have I felt so worthless. She gives me things that she spent time on. The best we can say about my presents were that they cost money, and that they took some time to select.

Time equals money, they say. But what’s the specific proportions?

She had coffee at Cracker Barrel, and I had the blandest hot chocolate I’ve ever tasted.

But hey, who cares? I was grinning too hopelessly to stop at that point. I loved being in her presence. It’s like being in rain after a length drought. Deserts and rain. You know the drill.

We watched Monty Python, sang along to Sir Robin and the Monks’ Chant and the Court of Camelot.. (Monks’ Chant was great. We hit our heads several times over.) We made fun of the Castle of Anthrax specifically because a certain Mary-Sue liked it so much, and we found it hilarious. We would say the same thing at the same time—sometimes in the same wording!—and then we would pause and glare at each other before grinning and starting again where we left off, or maybe somewhere else, newer entirely, and better.

We talked about fencing and dartboards and the Don’t Remind Me game and-

Why am I relating this stuff to you like it’s relevant? You don’t give a damn. But then again, I don’t give a damn about whether you give a damn or not. You’re not important to me unless you were there, or unless I tell you all about it in some medium other than this bland diary. Yes, diary.

We played tarot cards. It was almost enough to make me believe in something supernatural-

(Shit. I’ve just remembered that they invited me to go boating. And me, having the shitty memory of a goat, completely forgot! Damn it, damn it, DAMN IT!)

I am very strictly heterosexual. This has held true through everything, and I think it still does. I think, I think, I think. There are still some very beautiful people out there of both genders that I’m not afraid of admiring, though. There are some people that I’m not afraid to confess are gorgeous, striking, and vivid.

So I’m loosely heterosexual. Like an interpretation of the American Constitution.

But- as I’ve said once before- if she or I was a guy, Teatime wouldn’t exist for me. And it honestly, honestly wouldn’t matter at all about North Carolina. So many hours away, but not so distant by IM or phone.. Technology has its uses. For all that its mortal spawn are weak and puling, there is something distantly beautiful about the hum of a machine- a live one.

It’s good to have technology, for all that it breeds people like us, who could not survive without our computers and our comfortable little beds and lives. Evolution is supposed to breed us until we’re stronger. I’m the weakest of the weak, but I feel proud, because somewhere deep within me, my mind is of a clone of Rae’s.

And of course, it’s an honor to be cloned after a genius of such magnitude. Even if the scientists did fail, and make me inferior.

So you can see me now. Dark-haired, unwashed, but content. Glaring at the computer, but smiling on the inside like there’s nothing better in the world than what I’m doing now. Sitting, typing, livingbreathingsmiling.

And you know what?

(Don’t say what, that’s so cliché and clueless. Pick something else, why don’t you!)

I honestly don’t think there is anything better in the world.

----

Yeah.. that was written under Lestat’s influence. Sorry for the excessive swearing and all that, but I can slip so easily into Lestat’s voice.

This weekend was great. Can’t you tell?

2004-09-30T16:43:00.000-07:00

I've just realized that my life is very, very simple.

Most of my confusion originates from Teatime, so therefore, decisions about him are just whether I tell him or not. (Not, definitely.) Everything else is just emotion, which is negligible. (Oooh.. vocab word. xD)

My other confusion originates from Mum, who thinks that I love her, and is therefore at peace with the world. But then again, it doesn't really matter what she thinks, so long as my Internet is a continuous flow.

But the simplest things in life are best.. and what's simple is that I'm going to be driven to Knoxville tomorrow, to meet Rae on Saturday!(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Excessive punctuation must be forgiven, in this case. I'm happy enough that even Annie noticed.

..All right, maybe I helped a bit, by saying this:

MoroseHarpy (5:57:31 PM): I want to see people now, just so I can smile and hug them!

Yeah.. so.. -laughs-

Can you blame me?

2004-09-30T13:11:00.000-07:00

Oh yeah.. and I just remembered.

Kevin-of-the-ECA-project-whom-I-thought-was-nice-because-he-thought-I-was-funny is no longer in favor. Why? Because he jokingly nominated me for HC Queen.

Thank the thousand little gods his is the only vote. But did he really have to tell me?

Then again.. he did nominate Cory-and-Betty as the HC-Royal-Couple. Which was rather funny..

If they get elected for it together, I'll attend HC just to take plenty of pictures.

2004-09-30T13:01:00.000-07:00

I haven't worked on my novels in forever. Avvie hasn't spoken to me in forever-- I'm assuming it's because I was too stupid last time-- and I've failed two things in the meantime. My life is going wonderfully, I assure you.

Things have to get better from here on.. and I hope I'll have an extra dose of luck on the weekend. Knoxville, here I come!

Yesterday:

Why do guys have to be so childish?

Why?

And why does the school board have to be so stupid as to show a documentary on animal sex in BIOLOGY? I've had health already, thank you, I know about the whole reproduction thing, and I've had quite enough of it to last (read: scar) me for the rest of my life.

It didn't help that the narrator had to say sex instead of reproduction every other word. I mean, I appreciate drilling the concept in as much as you can so that the audience will stop giggling. But honestly, every other word? Particularly in an audience where about half the members are teenage boys, who are inevitably revolting, and whose minds resemble sewers?

Stupidity isn't quite sufficient to address the people who wrote that documentary. I want to throttle their scripter. And the guy who came up with its title: The Triumph of Life. How about The Triumph of Red Pigmentation In The Cheeks Of Whoever Watches This Documentary In a Co-Ed Class?

Nick-whatever made a nicely satirical comment in ECA that I have to record in here for future notice:

Mr. Roberts: A stock share is something that you pay the company loads of money for, so that you are able to vote in its major decisions.
Nick: (laughs) Sounds just like America.

Of course, this is also the guy who thinks that he looks "damned sexy" in a suit. So maybe I'll just erase his name in the future..

2004-09-28T13:05:00.000-07:00

Today was a relatively good day, and I mean that.

First, a little confession: Just to keep whatever weirdos who actually /read/ my blog and know me personally from finding out who Teatime is, yes, I do lie about when I see him.

What, you thought that I really saw him every day? Natch. :P I'm hardly ever *that* lucky.

But today.. I wasn't even looking for him from where I usually see him-- and he was abruptly there. And I nearly fell /up/ the stairs in surprise-- which would've been bad, I suppose. More surprise than anything else, so I think there's a little room for relief here.. although I feel none.

Spanish wasn't that bad, although I spent most of the period wishing I could carefully-- methodically-- strangle Katie Seppella. There are some people out there who don't know when enough is enough. But unfortunately, Katie doesn't even know when too much is too much! She drives me insane-- literally.

And she chews gum loudly, and annoyingly, and shouts at the wrong times. And has the most unmusical voice that I've ever heard. In a symphony, her voice would be the cheese grater. It's almost as bad as mum's bloody boyfriend's voice; /his/ is loud and uncomfortable. It reminds me somewhat of an amoeba, except with less grace.

But then again, I should be used to it by now. Only a couple more weeks to go, and I'll (hopefully) never see the people from my first trimester again.. Except for the people at lunch. :) I like my current lunch; it has everyone that I want to see in it.

And I nearly fell asleep in AP History.. -blush-

Lucky we weren't doing anything big today..

It picked up a bit in English, where OUR GROUP GOT DONE FIRST! IN YOUR FACE, ANNIE!

Erm.. I mean..

-coughs-

-looks away-

And in Bio.. the test was bad, but not as bad as I thought it'd be. So that, too, was good. And then there was ECA.. where all I had to do was sit and watch other people's interviews.. (One of them did a little thing from Anaconda: Hunt for the Blood Orchid. Which was cute/funny, although I think I'm the only one who caught that reference to the movie. Although they borrowed Cory's jacket-ish thing for the presentation; went on snickering for a while.)

So yeah. Life is.. not horrible. :)

Now if only AG would *load*.. >.<

2004-09-27T11:43:00.000-07:00

Today was a pretty good day, I guess.. :) I got away without suffering in ECA (except for the bits where I had to take two pictures of Ms. Bell, although I suppose that was technically more funny than painful), and I think we did our Interview pretty well.. for all that I won't admit it to the one person who congratulated me on it.

And during the rest of the day, I took pictures.

I love the power that the camera gives me; people will automatically show me a face that they give the whole world. Occasionally (sans la camera) I get this brushoff look from people; the look that says, "Bugger off, twerp". But people almost never do that to a camera. And for all that we know, these days, that cameras don't steal bits of your soul, nevertheless there's power in a camera. And it's almost intoxicating. And certainly I'm basking in the fact that I snapped a picture in the hallway.. of you know very well whom. If I'm lucky, I caught the back of his head. If I'm not.. then ah well. I can't bring myself to be too irritated or angry- today was a good day, and I'm basking quietly in the glory of it all.

I still have to take it back to school tomorrow and get the rest of the photos. Who knows-- maybe I'll get Natalie to give me a single photo; I'd like to introduce Rae to her namesake of sorts, after all.. though the two are nothing alike. (Natalie, after all, wasn't even sure whether there were molecules in soup, back in ninth grade..) And if I can, I'll get Tiffany too; the only other Pern-fan that I know of who lives in Mason. And maybe Conor and Caroline, if I can.. although I'll stay greatly away from Andrew Browning and Spenser Tepe. For all that they irritate me to pieces, and I want to show Rae what they look like.. I *hate* them. Hate them too much to take their pictures and hope even slightly that my grip won't shatter the camera.

Ah well.

2004-09-26T16:25:00.000-07:00

What is it with my mom and her innate desire to make my weekends hell?

Oh well.. at least I've got everything needed for Rae ready. :) Joyful happy tranquil..

Until Kevin called. And reminded me of that damnable ECA assignment, due tomorrow, which also reminded me of the English essay and poem due tomorrow. Along with the fact that I have to study for my Bio test.

>.<

Still want my life, Sherry-who-thinks-I-complain-too-much?

2004-09-24T21:44:00.000-07:00

Searching:

I'm searching for the True Faith
I'm searching for belief
For the one who will unburden me
I'm searching for relief.

I'm searching for the dawn
Of hope that will show me light
I'm searching for the knowledge
That'll see me through the night.

I'm searching for the true love
Plausible and platonic
I'm searching for some endless hope
In all subjects, infinitesimal and atomic.

I'm searching for the reason
That tells me to draw breath
I'm searching for the logic
Behind the mechanics of life and death.

I'm searching for the light of the morn
I'm searching for relief
I'm searching for the slanted trust
I'm looking to a belief..

And hoping that I might
Stay wrapped up tight
Sleeping soundly throughout the night..
Because it's right.

Stupid poem. But I'm in a stupored mood. I want to believe in something..

2004-09-24T18:33:00.000-07:00

I desperately, desperately, desperately want a religion. I want something to believe in, beliefs that I would die for, beliefs that I can take into my bed with me at night and think about whenever I lie awake, dry-eyed and sleepless. I want to know with an unshakeable certainty a fact that has sprung from my own heart, my own mind, untaught to me, nor fed to me with a silver spoon.

I also want to talk to someone about this. But no one's online! >.<

2004-09-24T13:59:00.000-07:00

MRMA BADO: hey..do you want to come to my bday party?
-blinks-

-is in shock-

I know Laura just barely. She's like.. hanging at the edges of my.. er.. acquaintances. I mean, I like her, but I don't know very much about her other than the fact that she likes Relient K.

In any case, I can't go; her party's on the same weekend that I'm going to meet Rae..(!) But still.. it was incredibly nice of her to ask. And I just wish I knew what prompted that action..

Pity I can't read minds.

2004-09-24T13:19:00.000-07:00

Today was a /wonderful/ day.

First of all, it began halfway yesterday, with Shining-- being Shining-- accusing me of liking someone. And also, like Shining is usually, she refuses to be deterred from that theory, regardless of what I do/say. Apparently it just convinces her more. And today on the bus, I was reminded of that, which put me in something of an irritable mood for school.

I perked slightly in Spanish, when the usual prep wasn't present, but she arrived halfway through the class, put her feet on the metal-basket-beneath my desk /again/.. and wouldn't shut up.

Got a C on the APUSH test.. which, considering I studied very little, shouldn't have surprised me, but did. I will study harder for the next one, I suppose..

English wasn't bad, though I forgot my journal in my locker and couldn't go get it because I didn't want to look stupider than I already did. (The day before, Mr. Reeder mentioned that the Chronicles of Narnia was based on the Bible, and I made an open sulking, which made me look so stupid.) HOWEVER. We had to get into groups, and this one guy named Tim who reminds me a bit of Will from eighth grade wanted to do the exact two options that I'd dibsed. And then laughed at me when I narrowed my eyes at him and told him to /pick what he wanted/. (He recoiled in 'fright', naturally. Why is it that all the guys I know either enjoy mocking me or laughing at me?)

And then there was Bio, which actually wasn't half-bad either, aside from the whole “P.O. on Monday, Test on Tuesday” thing..

ECA class was where it all went wrong.
We were drawing lots for who would present first in class on Monday and Tuesday.. and I kept drawing the wrong lots. So my group started at the way back, and ended up as presenting as the third group on the first day. Although there was a happily enjoyable period with inkblots that was actually quite funny, I guess.. and the bit where we decided that Cory made a perfect madman. Well.. it was either him, or that silly prep, who’s quite possibly the most idiotic person I’ve ever met. (She didn’t understand what ‘inquisitive’ meant. Good grief..)

But at the beginning of the period, at attendance, Miss Bell asked everyone to name what they were doing on the weekend. Cory said something about going to homecoming.. and I could all but swear that at the same instant, the prep with the red-dyed hair said my name, and was smirking at me over that. And so was the irritating prep from my Spanish class. So I did the automatic-blocking thing, and blurted out, “Jenny Shen”.

Immediately, Irritating!Prep took up the call of saying her name, and Cory asked her how she knew that. And she pointed at me. (Me at the time: -_-;;;;;; -gods, how stupid can I be in one day? And why did the gods see fit to give me a mouth?-) And the following conversation went something like this:

Me: -flushes- Well, you were staring at my _head_.
Prep: I was not; I was looking at Cory!
Me: -sarcastic look- Yeah. Through my head, maybe.
Prep: -huffs- (to teacher) She doesn’t like me!
Teacher: -soothingly- I’m sure she likes you fine.
Me: -pleasant look- Depends on your definition of like.
Teacher: (to prep) Well, you know, some people are just so alike that they just can’t get along, you know?
Me: -twitch- I’m not like her..
Prep: See?! She doesn’t like me!
Me: What? I just really don’t want to be like you.

And then some other things that I can’t remember..

And then I made more dead people comments at Kevin.. which was kinda fun, I guess. Who’d’ve thought that dead people would permeate the world so thoroughly?

It was fun until I realized that Cory was teaching the preps Chinese. Which is.. urgh. I mean, now they’re stepping up to me smilingly and saying things so wrong that I just want to scream.

No prose-y stuff today, but I’m annoyed still. Even at home, life won’t leave me alone. Mum’s decided that I’ve stolen her business keys, and is pestering me at every opportunity to try and “get them back”. It BUGS me. Grr. If I had them, don’t you think I’d’ve turned them in for the bloody five-dollar reward already?

So yeah. Life is –damnable-.

2004-09-23T16:08:00.000-07:00

Finished Cessation!

Cessation:
“Write about what you know, what you are.”
Her smile flickers, and her eyes go still, their swift butterfly motions settling into a freeze frame. She turns towards the clock, in the hopes that its arms will show her a favorable time, but the clock is displeased with her today, and rotates its limbs languidly, like a dancer in slow motion. All about her, the scritching of pens fill the room until she feels as though she will choke upon the sound, upon the knowledge that others are alive and know themselves. But then, she thinks, she has no bitterness to complain of- she knows herself as well as anyone is capable of knowing a soul. She knows the dankest corners of her heart, where mold and jealousy gnaw upon the pulsing walls, seeking to obliterate what is already tenuously taped together. She knows the vivid life of joy, the vibrancy of being in the presence of one best beloved, the exultance in knowing the better part of yourself with an intimacy that transcends conversation and anything else that mankind has knowledge of. But most of all, the pinnacle of her knowledge, she knows the meaning of the word cessation.
She knows that if others look it up in the dictionary, it will say something about stopping, and there it will end. (Another cessation, she thinks, and smiles, brief as summer lightning. The faintest pang touches some innate core of her; though she has erased everything that is under her conscious control, still she remembers when the smiles were real.) She knows best of all, what the dictionary says about cessation; she has gone to look it up before, and would not be surprised if the page were marked with her fingerprints, dirty and tainted from the years when she knew nothing. (How arrogant she is now, she muses dreamily, with a smile as delicate as a soap bubble, but does not have the nerve to laugh out loud; it is something that she has never done.) But now, ages past the first time that her hands tremblingly flicked upon the waterfilm-thin pages of the book, she knows perhaps best of all that cessation is not always a conclusion.
She has felt the cessation of a heartbeat, the gradual, agonizing death of the only three that she has sworn to herself she will ever love. She is at what others might call a cynical age- but then, she lives in the century, not of some metal, but of a metal formed in the mind; the shield of cynicism and mindless hatred. She, like many others, is under the delusion that she understands something about the universe now, and perhaps she does. She knows that to every ending, there is another beginning. It is the monotonous cycle that will never be permitted to end, and in some sense, in some desperate corner of her mind, she loathes it. Once, just once, she prays, to a god that she does not truly believe exists, let hearts stop beating, and stay stopped. Why must the endless cycle continue? What good does it do to get up and pretend to be real?
Her dreams have led her to an end, and she gazes at the deadened, insurmountable wall in something akin to blank despair. But as the bell rings, and she rises automatically, she knows that this is less of a conclusion than a mere impasse.
---
It is raining when she exits the school, a gray drizzle that threatens to drown the day in bland monochrome. She stands patiently, waiting for the car to come, eyes as blank as the black shirt she is wearing now, as blank as the tentative cloud-whorls in the skies. She can feel the back of her neck prickle with the stares of others as her shirt begins to cling to her skin, tightly, like a little child on her first day in school. But she cannot bear to stand with them, to feel the insatiability of their desire for life, their energy, their angers and joys and futile hopes that she longs to share, but does not.
She cannot bear to think of another cessation, one whose beginning is encroaching upon the precious little time that she has to spend in this emotionless nirvana. She will not think upon the cessation of each day, when she slips quickly, easily into a slumber that she wishes could last forever. That will come later, and she refuses to think of anything except what is put before her in these times.
Besides, she rather likes the rain. It does not go past her without a sound, it does not look through her, towards another face, smiling with a tender trust that she wishes with all that remains of her duct-taped heart were her own. It reminds her, more than anyone and anything can, that she is real and part of this universe, that it is not her fault that she cannot be seen, that the cessation of her existence is not of her choice, and so she cannot be blamed for it. It reminds her that she is subject to all the laws of this realm, that her cards are the same as all others in this poker game, and someday, when the stakes are high enough, and the cards are ripe, she will lay them down and win the game.
At least, this is what she tells herself whenever she rises from her bed, to do two of the three things that continue to qualify her as a living being. (The third one does not yet appeal to her, as it requires a person other than herself alone, and she has never truly thought upon doing anything that did not depend foremost upon herself.) But soon, she knows, the termination of that dream will dawn, Death’s scythe will collect another wispy soul from her thoughts, and she will be left alone, to stare at an insuperable wall until the day that another dream arises, and she is temporarily relieved of her lonely sentinel duty.
The world drones onward in a high, buzzing beep that screams in need for her attention, and she realizes that her ride has come. A gradual, slow walk sees her in the car, dripping over the leather seats as her eyes fix upon the windshield wipers, constantly erasing the tears from her features, as though willing them never to exist. Willing them, like they are something that she can simply cast away..
---
Dinner is a silent affair, laden with the sting of pepper and salt and unvoiced accusations. She watches her rice as though suspecting it of a conspiracy against her, but makes no sound. She will not grant them the satisfaction of a noise that admits her discomfort today- she will not please them with the evidence of a tear. Those who enter her mind, who know her as she confesses the torturous vigil of the day to them, might think her strong, to hold back such a barrage, a myriad of emotions, but she knows differently.
She knows that this false strength is something that she can draw upon only for a little while, that it will cost her, and that with every moment she breathes in this falsified peace, she loses something. She knows that once, this would have mattered, this losing, that it would have flayed her to the quick and she would have grown angry. But now she lies still, a blank stare fixed upon her rice, until an authoritative voice breaks the silence and tells her that she can go now.
Reminiscing, she remembers that once, perhaps she might have been angry that they thought themselves capable of exerting their authority upon her. Once, she had considered herself a being apart from the universe, untouched by its laws, graced by the attentions of deities beyond mortal comprehension.
Once, she had been a child- and then the years had passed.
She rises quietly, tilting her head upwards with dull intent, before turning towards the door. The room is inflicted with a burst of silence as she closes the door- nothing about her creates a conflict, because it is the way that she has become under the pressure of threats and disappointed tears. She wishes, often, that she were not so easily stirred by emotion, and so empty at the same time.
The worst of both worlds, she might think, but she does not think often now. It hurts like the dull thud of a knife to recall what she is, and what she might have been.
---
She is standing in the middle of the room now, black shirt dry, gaze as wide and unfocused as a field of stars in the heavens. (Her shirt she refused to relinquish to another’s hold- it is a pillar of familiarity in a situation that surrounds her with its strangeness.) Her eyes are wide and dark, and lodged within them is only the faintest grasp of the concept of fear, of submission. She has immersed herself too much in that submission to remember that there is anything beyond it, that there is anything that she can do besides tilt her head in acquiescence.
Her room is something of a sanctuary as she enters it- untorn by the wars that rage beneath, the angry tears that are tossed in a whirling tempest that seems to belong to another world altogether. But even that peace possesses the seeds of its destruction, and its cessation comes in the form of a single lily-white paper that lies placidly upon her wooden desk. Nothing is inscribed upon it, and it is that which catches her at last, entrapping her. Wordless papers are a rarity in the world within which she dwells, the world where music resonates within her mind, with all the angelic quality of angels. But there is a special meaning to this paper.. one that is brought to her mind with a lightning start as her carelessly-slung backpack tumbles to the floor.
She is not prone to violence, though it is difficult to remember that about herself when some faces greet her vision, Nevertheless, it is difficult to recall that she needs that useless paper, that unfilled page that all but begs to be drowned in a flood of ink and tears, each word as difficult to put down as a drop of blood, carefully milked from her sunbrowned flesh.
She loathes that page with all the passion that can be reserved for something so simplistic, but can express none of it. She is forbidden, by the orders of her blood and bound by the restraints that are part of her nature, and would loathe them, but cannot, because they are all that she has left of herself. Time has eroded all the things that once made her unique, and have worn her from a poised, delicate statue into another rock, smoothed by the tide that pulls her into its loving embrace. She is no longer anything other than a doll manipulated for the pleasure of another’s thoughts, another’s dreams- and the others are content to have it so. And because they no longer stab her with their demands, she, too, is relieved.
Her eyes quietly contemplative, she folds her hands together, chin thrusting outward as she stares blankly at the nearby wall. Then, smiling with only the faintest trace of amusement, she unfolds her hands, picks up her favorite quill, and begins to write.
[end]

2004-09-23T13:00:00.000-07:00

Words cannot fully convey how happy I am.

I'm sitting in the computer chair, surrounded by nothing except a cloud of my thoughts and random other contemplations-- and homework, but that hardly counts-- and I'm smiling, gently, quietly, but with the kind of joy that feels as though it could last a lifetime and never wear out. It's an aftermath of talking to Rae for four hours straight-- wow.. four hours passed *fast*-- and being steadily more delighted in doing so. There are some people whose voices are annoying to listen to- they grate on the nerves and steadily wear at me until I'm ready to scream.

Rae's voice is anything *but* that. If she sang, it'd be the kind of voice with undertones beneath it, like swimming at the pool and noticing that the lights undulate at the bottom, creating something of an aura on their own. It's profound and beautiful-- and profoundly beautiful.

She won't believe me that it's a wonderful voice, but it is.

I can't remember most of the conversation now, either; I just remember that I had to switch ears several times, and it took Mum three tries to pry me away from the phone-- I was trying to say goodbye each time, and I'd just slip into another stage of the conversation. And I just about forgot that I was footing the bill for the phone call, and that her mum and dad were supposed to confer with Mum after our phone call. It lasted until midnight (with a brief interval where I had to go shower and do my homework, which was about half an hour, and took four hours, if not more. And though I rather regretted it somewhat when I woke up this morning, when I woke up enough to have sense, I didn't regret a shred of the time.

After all, sleeping is basically just lying down and being unconscious. And who wouldn't prefer to spend time with someone like Rae as opposed to that?

I carefully taped a notice to my binder informing the world that I was smiling for Rae today-- and I spent the entire morning with a rather odd grin stuck to my face, which probably made me look absolutely ridiculous-- and I do think that I told her just about everything important about me.

I was so worried that she'd find me boring, dull.. something. I'm nothing in reality, because I put so much of myself onto the Internet. But.. I don't think she was too bored-- either that or she's a superb actress.

Anyway.. I'm running out of words, so I'll move on. Kevin Sutter is, agreeing with a certain someone, weird, yes, but as I said before, if he thinks I'm funny-- and laughs with me, as opposed to at me, which almost everyone does-- I don't think I could find a better partner for this particular project. We got a fair bit of work done today, as opposed to the work (or lack thereof) that we got done on Bio.

Cory makes me tired; physically so, with that in-the-bone ache that comes only with exercising yourself thoroughly the previous day and throwing yourself onto a hard bed to sleep the night away. At least, I thought it only came that way. Apparently not.

So many tests coming.. and I'm writing some prose. How odd/stupid.

Stiilll..:

Cessation:
“Write about what you know, what you are.”
Her smile flickers, and her eyes go still, their swift butterfly motions settling into a freeze frame. She turns towards the clock, in the hopes that its arms will show her a favorable time, but the clock is displeased with her today, and rotates its limbs languidly, like a dancer in slow motion. All about her, the scritching of pens fill the room until she feels as though she will choke upon the sound, upon the knowledge that others are alive and know themselves. But then, she thinks, she has no bitterness to complain of- she knows herself as well as anyone is capable of knowing a soul. She knows the dankest corners of her heart, where mold and jealousy gnaw upon the pulsing walls, seeking to obliterate what is already tenuously taped together. She knows the vivid life of joy, the vibrancy of being in the presence of one best beloved. But most of all, she knows the meaning of the word cessation.
She knows that if others look it up in the dictionary, it will say something about stopping, and there it will end. (Another cessation, she thinks, and smiles, brief as summer lightning.) She knows best of all, what the dictionary says about cessation; she has gone to look it up before, and would not be surprised if the page were marked with her fingerprints, dirty and tainted from the years when she knew nothing. (How arrogant she is now, she muses dreamily, with a smile as delicate as a soap bubble, but does not have the nerve to laugh out loud; it is something that she has never done.) But now, ages past the first time that her hands tremblingly flicked upon the waterfilm-thin pages of the book, she knows perhaps best of all that cessation is not always a conclusion.
She has felt the cessation of a heartbeat, and she knows that to every ending, there is another beginning. It is the monotonous cycle that will never be permitted to end, and in some sense, in some desperate corner of her mind, she loathes it. Once, just once, she prays, to a god that she does not truly believe exists, let hearts stop beating, and stay stopped. Why must the endless cycle continue? What good does it do to get up and pretend to be real?
Her dreams have led her to an end, and she gazes at the deadened, insurmountable wall in something akin to blank despair. But as the bell rings, and she rises automatically, she knows that this is less of a conclusion than a mere impasse.
---
It is raining when she exits the school, a gray drizzle that threatens to drown the day in bland monochrome. She stands patiently, waiting for the car to come, eyes as blank as the black shirt she is wearing now, as blank as the tentative cloud-whorls in the skies. She can feel the back of her neck prickle with the stares of others as her shirt begins to cling to her skin, tightly, like a little child on her first day in school. But she cannot bear to stand with them, to feel the insatiability of their desire for life, their energy, their angers and joys and futile hopes that she longs to share, but does not.
She cannot bear to think of another cessation, one whose beginning is encroaching upon the precious little time that she has to spend in this emotionless nirvana. She will not think upon the cessation of each day, when she slips quickly, easily into a slumber that she wishes could last forever. That will come later, and she refuses to think of anything except what is put before her in these times.
Besides, she rather likes the rain. It does not go past her without a sound, it does not look through her, towards another face, smiling with a tender trust that she wishes with all that remains of her duct-taped heart were here own. It reminds her, more than anyone and anything can, that she is real and part of this universe, that it is not her fault that she cannot be seen, that the cessation of her existence is not of her choice, and so she cannot be blamed for it. It reminds her that she is subject to all the laws of this realm, that her cards are the same as all others in this poker game, and someday, when the stakes are high enough, and the cards are ripe, she will lay them down and win the game.
At least, this is what she tells herself whenever she rises from her bed, to do two of the three things that continue to qualify her as a living being. (The third one does not yet appeal to her, as it requires a person other than herself alone, and she has never truly thought upon doing anything that did not depend foremost upon herself.) But soon, she knows, the termination of that dream will dawn, Death’s scythe will collect another wispy soul from her thoughts, and she will be left alone, to stare at an insuperable wall until the day that another dream arises, and she is temporarily relieved of her lonely sentinel duty.

(Unfinished.. to be continued..)

And that's all for today, unless I finish this prose-y thing first.

2004-09-22T13:15:00.000-07:00

Good Charlotte's new song conveys a good point:

You come in cold,
You're covered in blood.
They're all so happy you've arrived.
The doctor cuts your chord.
He hands you to your mom.
She sets you free into this life.
And where do you go with no destination, no maps to guide you.
Wouldn't you know that it doesn't matter, we all end up the same.

[Chorus:]
These are the chronicles of life and death and everything between.
These are the stories of our lives, as fictional as they may seem.
You come in this world, and you go out just the same.
Today could be the best day of your life.

[Verse 2:]
And you'll find out that in this world,
We're all just rats caught in a race.
But take your time, there's no need to rush
You don't have to live that way.
Before you go, you've got some questions.
That you want answered.
But now you’re old, cold, covered in blood, right back to where you started from

[Chorus:]
These are the chronicles of life and death and everything between.
These are the stories of our lives, as fictional as they may seem.
You come in this world, and you go out just the same.
Today could be the worst day of your life.
Of your life, it's your life.

[Chorus:]
But these are the chronicles of life and death and everything between.
These are the stories of our lives, as fictional as they may seem.
You come in this world, and you go out just the same.
Today could be the best day of,
Today could be the worst day of,
Today could be the last day of your life.
It's your life,
your life.

2004-09-22T11:56:00.000-07:00

He confuses me. No, not Teatime.. someone else.

I know I don't like him. (I think.) But I know that I don't hate him either.

And still I do. Hate him, I mean. Except he confuses me too much for me to hate him properly- he confuses me so much that I'm not even sure if I hate him. And I'm pretty sure that he knows this, too.

Which just makes it all the worse.

....

Gods I hope he never reads this. Better google this and yahoo this and make sure that he can't find it.

On other note, working with some guy I don't know, named Kevin Sutter, on my ECA interview project. It's kinda funny.. I spent most of the period commenting solemnly about how each of the jobs exemplified on the board could be related to dead people. And he thought it was funny.

Hey, if he thinks that I'm funny when I'm trying to be, there's no way I'm complaining about this partner. -nods- I like him.

-pauses- -withering glare-

Not like that.

GOING TO SEE RAE IN KNOXVILLE ON OCTOBER 1ST! BOOYAH! ^_^

I spent all day doodling in my various school notes on it.. I'm so happy. :) Rae is the BEST. To meet her is.. like.. an honor. A Christmas present come early. Although she's not been around as long as a few of my other DRoP-friends.. still. It's going to be wonderful to see her..

2004-09-21T17:39:00.000-07:00

Today was.. interesting. And I went to Vissicitudes, applied for two positions, got neither, and am a plain author now. But then, I was running against the ineffably (irritatingly) brilliant Andrea and a senior for either position- I never had a chance.

Bah.

And Lily needs to put her hair down more.

How my internetless trial went:
Monday Evening: Mum’s off on her trip to New York and left the computer off, along with a little vindictive note at home saying how much she loves me and such. Huh- if I wasn’t too old for that junk, I’d still scoff at it- if she loved me, there are so many things that she doesn’t do. There are so many things that people who love you just don’t think about doing.

Like, say, for instance, cutting off the entire computer so that you can’t work on it.

I wrote on the back of her letter, so that when she tears it off, she’ll see my letter. And I wrote it without even waiting, too. Although I’ll no doubt get in trouble for going through her things in order to find the bloody letter in the first place. And for pouring orange juice on her bed- deliberately. And for a multitude of other things that are born of my mischeviousness.

I’ve been reading through the witch-book again, and laughing; if only I’d followed its bloody advice, I wouldn’t have gotten into so much bloody trouble in the first place. Like keeping my bloody mouth shut about my bloody religion until a year and a day had passed. As it was, I never got that far into it in the first place- I think I rather lost course when Cory turned Christian. And then Lily spent a morning gloating about it. And I realized that I didn’t want a religion so weak, so watered down in order to appeal to the public.

I’ve read a book on the more.. traditional forms of Wiccanism, and I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard in my entire life. They think that being naked is more spiritual, and I can see the logic in that. However, I don’t see where the logic is in calling being naked ‘skyclad’.

You’re naked, you’re naked. Okay. Just don’t go around trying to romanticize it. There’s no point to that.

Still, there’s something drifting through my mind now- some kind of belief. Or at least, a belief that if I had to choose a religion, Witchcraft might very well be my first choice.

I’m leaning slightly towards Hinduism, but hey, Wiccans get reborn too. And they don’t have to give up beef to do it. Or worship bovine, either, for that matter.

Although I keep telling myself that I’m only doing this for laughs, there’s something very appealing about this religion.

And the biggest irony is that they let you take your choice of your own god(s). The funny thing is.. gods are supposed to be beings that make you better than yourself. In the words of Vertical Horizon:

He’s everything you want
He’s everything you need
He’s everything inside of you that you wish you could be
He says all the right things
At exactly the right time
But he means nothing to you and you don’t know why..

The funniest thing? All the verses are accurate- I’ve chosen my avatar, and he’s everything that I want, need, and strive to become.. but in the end, he still means nothing to me. Like all religions. I’ve never thought myself to be much of a pragmatic person, but now I realize, more than ever, that I am. I am pragmatic, disinclined to believe in anything that I can’t have proved through scientific means. They used to call me a Thomas in sixth grade, because I insisted that I had to see the Lord, to understand Him, before I was willing to believe in him. And I guess, in some odd way, that they were right about me.

How odd.

The girl who borrowed my Harry Potter 1 book (gah.. keep forgetting her name!) returned it today, and it brought me.. memories. Of how long HP’s been around. Of how long (and how short) since it’s been since sixth grade, when I paraded around proudly with my HP4, and lent it to Jesse, who spilled brown marker on it. And though I got mad at him.. it didn’t really matter because I liked him at the time.

And then he moved.. and then I sulked and cried.. and everything became muddled. And the funny thing is, I really believed that we would meet up again somehow, sometime. Your first crush is supposed to be something soft, sweet, and I remember it that way- with fondness- but it’s a melotic sweetness, because after sixth grade, I never saw him again.

Urgh.. how irritating. I’m waxing eloquently melodic again. Elegiac. What an odd, graceful word.

I was happy all day today- I’d like to think it was because of the stones, but I doubt it. Still, I thought of Rae constantly- it being her birthday/our meeting coming up soon, after all- and I realized that, on the messageboards, she said she was getting me something. And in came the panicked thought- what am I supposed to get her? I know she said that meeting me would be the best present of all, but that’s a silly thing to say. Meeting me is hardly some great advantage. I want to get something for her that she’ll like, that she’ll appreciate. Was talking to Cory about it- funny how that works; all her friends know about me, and none of mine about her- and he said that it was probably too late to get something shipped (I wanted to get something that McCaffrey had autographed, for her.). And then he suggested that I say that her present was in the mail. And then he laughed. Mockingly. And made some pointed remarks about how funny I was.

><

I could really get to hate him sometimes. He reminds me of everything that I’ve ever done wrong. I told him today that he brings out the violence in me, which is inaccurate- he brings out a tendency to wish that I could pound my own head in.

I want to talk to someone else about it- someone who won’t laugh at me, for instance- but I can’t. The only reason I even came out with it during Bio was because he had a McCaffrey book at hand. It was.. somewhat like a sign, although I suppose not really. Still.. McCaffrey’s always been my idol (right after Rae.. ^^) and.. I don’t know. And I can’t get online to consult with my real friends because of the aforementioned computer fiasco.

Life is evil and confusing. But mostly evil.

EDIT: Later remembered something that I must make note of. The Only Other McCaffrey Fan I Know Of Who Lives In Mason thinks that he would probably Impress a gold dragon. Stupid egostical.. bah. There are no words for people like him. If only because I have something of a.. unique view on the situation.

I’ve also decided that I don’t hate him. For now. I don’t want to say anything that I can’t live up to..

Sunday Morning: They still haven’t come home, and there’s been no phone call this time. I’m sort of worried, but not particularly so; more irritated that they haven’t found me important enough to drop me a freaking line.

Huh. Love indeed, the twits. If they don’t come back before Monday Morning, then I’ll be worried.

Have discovered myself to be a fan of Savage Garden’s second CD, and Vertical Horizon in general. =3

Two more days to go before I’m back in the grasp of civilization and Internet.. I hope. Inteerneeet.. –sighs-

Saturday Morning: Well, Mum and Angela haven’t come home yet, and it’s well past their waking hour. But before you get into a panic, I should say that she called me last night, to say that if I wanted to go over to Michael’s house, all I had to do was call the number, and I’d be more than welcome there. Which means, if you didn’t catch it, that she and Angela stayed over the night. Huh. I had two words for her:

Fat. Chance.

I’m guessing that they won’t be coming home today either, so I’ve prepared for a lazy day of continuous typing and music by Sheryl Crow. The new arrangement of my room suits me more than it did before, although only the right side of the room’s been changed- the left seems stuck in limbo. As soon as I figure out an arrangement, that’ll be changed as well. For all that Mother’s money provided for this room and most of the content therein, I intend for this room to be mine in every other way. Mine so she can have no claim of aiding me with it. Mine.

Such a possessive freak, I am.. ^^;

I’ve only gotten half a page into chapter four, but with the majority of chapter three missing, and me unwilling to re-begin what’s already covered territory, I’ll just skip ahead. Thank the Thousand Little Gods and all their offspring for planning ahead. Although really, I should have guessed that Mother would cut me off from the main computer, and should have prepared for that eventuality, most probably by leaving the computer on and my account running. Doubtless it would’ve only put off the inevitable, but nevertheless.. I’m one to dream wistfully of things that I’ve never done.

I want to start working on Doich’s second chapter, and Assumptions’ third, but I’m reluctant to do so without the specific details ahead of me. Not to mention the fact that Doich is, so far, lounging in luxurious plotlessness as of yet. And Assumptions is taking on a decidedly My Best Friend’s Wedding-esque turn; I need to do something to break it out of that trend. (Although having Kaiba go talk to Yugi sounds like a fairly safe turn for the next chapter.. and having Kaiba and Anzu confront each other for the first time since her question..)

I spent the morning being lazy and watching television- caught a few silly shows, like The Proud Family- before I got to the important bits, although there was an episode by That’s So Raven that I did enjoy terribly; particularly since Orlando Brown featured in it prominently, and I’ve been in love with his voice-acting since Fillmore. Which I also caught this morning- first episode, Ingrid Third. Despite the entirety of its childishness, I love it; particularly Ingrid.

Anyone catch Parmecius in a dress?

In any case.. the important bits! They moved Shaman King from eight to eleven, but I’ll be getting up at that time every morning just in case they move it back. I don’t intend to miss a single episode; it’s gravitated to become my favorite show. This is no doubt partially constructed from the fact that I didn’t inherit this liking from anyone; not from Shining, or from my sister. It’s 100% my idea.. which is something that I’m beginning to lack, more and more.

No Zigue in the episode today, which was something of a disappointment, although there was a tedious green-haired girl with her hair slicked back. Sharona, I think they called her? She was a second-rate villain- Zigue has more style, and yes I’ll admit that I’m somewhat smitten with the concept of him in this particular show- but she was still funny. And she gave a whole new look to a clique- or should I say a whole old look. She and her gang of five.. –laughs- I found Lily particularly amusing.

For reasons that are most probably less than charitable, and so therefore I shall simply hint at, although this hint’s about as subtle as a slap with a gauntlet.

Echt.. Yu-Gi-Oh was a bit of a disappointment today, I’ll confess; it came with both the realization that there’d be no Yu-Gi-Oh episodes next week, and that Kaiba wasn’t in this episode. His usual glower missing from the screen rather disappoints me- though with all that hype about “waking the dragons” and Kaiba being one of the three chosen, I’d bet that he’ll figure prominently in the series. And for the show’s sake, I hope so; he’s one of the only original characters in a cast of horribly cliché heroes.

The bikers were hilarious, of course, to make up for Kaiba’s absence. I particularly like the.. er.. I can’t remember the details anymore.. But anyway, he addressed Joey with this:

“He reminds me of me, only, of course, stupider and less attractive.”

And I don’t understand the point of Yugi’s coat; he almost always takes it off for duel these days, and he looks better without it. (And this is not out of some perverse- read in this instance: perverted- desire; just a simple statement.) So why do they continue to keep it in the series? Bah.. If you want a coat, get a trenchcoat, Yugi! Like Kaiba.. x3

I’m obsessive. And I still can’t draw Kaiba properly. Bah..

Urgh.. time spent thinking about Teatime today, collectively? Probably fifteen minutes. Which, in commercial-time, is a looong time. >.<

Until later.. going off to work on chapter four now.

Friday evening: Well.. my first day without Internet, and I think that I’m faring fairly well against the track of insanity that no doubt lies before me in a few hours, when Mum returns home.. She’s turned the true computer against me, but I, with my entire lack of ingenuity and hacking skills, have managed to take the laptop, and am now typing in my room, Sheryl Crow wailing mournfully in the background. All the same, I think I’ve done pretty well, considering that it’s me.. But I’m not here to complete an analysis of myself.. I want to unburden my day to a word document that seems, for the moment, far more sympathetic than any other being within my life.

Today was.. as usual, rather confusing. I saw Teatime today, on the rather bright side, and he was smiling as he strode down the hall, with a faintly amused air- though I can’t say what might have amused him. But then again.. for all that I obsess about him constantly, I can’t say that there’s very much that I truly know about him. The only things I can name for certain are his name, the way he looks under all shades of light, and a few other trivial things that I won’t mention here. Automatically, when I saw him, I prepared for the abrupt stiffening and melting- the way I usually react when I see him- but it didn’t happen.

And then I looked at him a little more closely, and saw that beneath the memory-inflected image that I had imposed above his features, there were subtle changes. There used to be a diaphanous quality to his skin, his form- but now, he’s more corporeal; focused. It’s a coarsening of his features, of eyes that are eternally dark in my memory, (though I can’t think why) lightening, and with a mercurial inclination to slant colors in a way I cannot recall that he formerly possessed.

I’m not sure how I feel about it, and I probably won’t until I see him again (on Monday, if all goes well), but after a year..? Is Teatime’s shadow finally fading? Am I just clinging to this.. thing because I have no life, and no hobbies to chase other than this one?

It’s difficult to find something in my life that isn’t overcast by my aura of complete patheticness.

Still, for all that his features have changed, so that he’s recognizable still, but with a different, eroded appearance, he’s still beautiful in that undefinable way. (And beautiful is the wrong word, by the by, but it’s late and I can’t think of any other way that I’d like to describe him.)

He’s still everything that made him Teatime. He’s just not.. Teatime anymore?

Gods, he’s not Teatime anymore and I still think about him irresolutely. Imagining smiles that he’s never made, what he would say of me and everything that belongs to me.. Even Ender and Sage never got this bad, this obsessive. No doubt it’s the pent-up irritation of a year, which confused me a lot more than these few weeks. So in a way, I suppose I should be thankful. Although for what, I’m still debating.

But enough about Teatime- I’ll think to other matters now.. and hope like hell that he doesn’t invade my dreams. (He’s done this twice, both as a minor character in dreams that didn’t make much sense. Urrgh. NO ONE except my best friend and my first crush in sixth grade have ever been in my dreams before. And at the time, they were together, in a dream that made plenty of sense, but gave very little restfulness.)

My day, aside from him, was flat-out boring. The preps didn’t even make jabs at me today, and the only parts of the day that I can actually remember include a prep with dyed hair chatting to a friend about the beauty of a guy’s- and let me quote and be frank- ass. Something about making him run in front of her all the time in Gym so she could admire his magnificently structured buttocks.

o_O

Ookay. ‘Nuff said there. What is with people and arses? It’s not even an integral part of us- not really. And besides, pigs have bigger bottoms than most guys, and I don’t see anyone drooling over their butts. But then again, we’d have to have an urge to procreate with them and- urgh. I’ve just realized that there is not enough money in the world to let me continue down that track.

Although there definitely appears to be enough to get me to write it and not delete it. ^^

I didn’t hear a single word about HC today (a first all week!) and am grateful for it. World, keep up the good work, lest I go mad and start to strangle people.

Miss everybody from the Internet.. including Rae and the Blinkyness. Surviving this weekend is going to be tough.. particularly with Mum threatening to send me to military school because she feels that I don’t love her enough, and military school will give me a taste of what life could be like without her.

Yes, Mum, I’ve been to military school, and just because I don’t ever want to scrub floors with a toothbrush again, I swear to the damn gods that I absolutely *love* you. Despite the fact that you only use it to further your hold over me, and continue to wave the Internet above my head like I’m a damned donkey and it’s a farking carrot. What a way to earn your errant child’s trust, Mother. I congratulate you on your brilliance.

I’m half tempted to call Daddy, except Mum feels that it’s all his fault in the first place—my distrust in her, I mean. She feels that Daddy must have misinterpreted what she said, and that it’s all his fault that I didn’t receive her message. She never stops to think that sometimes, when you get overloaded, you just snap and realize that you’ve had enough. Realize that loving your parents was a requirement, but that sometimes.. you just can’t bear it anymore. The yoke of authority, the unbearability of never being in an equal partnership.. She never manages to get it through her thoughts that maybe I’ve had an original thought for once in my life- that I hate her because of what she’s done to me. But then, I’ve forgotten- this isn’t someone rational I’m dealing with. This is someone who firmly adheres to the concept that a whole family, naïve in the ways of the world, can still exist within these cynical times when kids of seven years start talking about flirting and dating and boyfriends, as opposed to all that chatter about cooties.

So I won’t call him. I guess this is my own problem to deal with.

Bah.. Dad’s been advising me to take up tennis again, but Mum and Angela go to whatever-it’s-called, and I won’t go there. I see enough of Monsieur “Dui bu chi?” on the weekdays, and I don’t plan to fill the better part of a Saturday with snide remarks and me falling over myself. I’m taking a class with *eight-year-olds* already- I don’t need to humiliate myself further by seeing someone there that I might recognize. He might not teach on weekends, but hey, I’m not taking chances. Particularly since I think Nick-whatever from my ECA class teaches tennis too; lovely. I hate meeting people I know outside of school; it’s always so awkward for me.

No, I don’t hate him (them). I think. But enough about tennis and that foolish stuff.

Blaaargh. I need a life other than redecorating my room and reading/writing. Anyone have decent suggestions out there?

2004-09-16T13:10:00.000-07:00

"Anzu hated it when somebody she was intent on hating made a good point."
-- Spectrum, AudibleHush.

A quote of the day that has everything to do with me. And my confusion. And my situation. And my.. incredible irritation.

And no, before you ask, it's not Mum. Or Avvie, for that matter.

2004-09-16T11:54:00.000-07:00

Okay, so Avvie had a major, major point yesterday. I just wasn't in a position where I could see it particularly clearly. But the emotional factor definitely wasn't helping, and as far as I'm concerned today, Avvie was completely right.

Nevermind that it doesn't help, nor that I can just about see his smirk on the other side of the computer screen, which helps to aggravate me.

Avvie is almost always right. And this is MY life. Aargh. ><;

Though I think I'm doing relatively well-- for me. I've never been the emotionally strong type, and for me to get this far without breaking out into wildly incessant tears..?

It's better progress than last year, at least.

Ehh.. muy tarea today. Studying for Spanish, writing a sodding journal for History, doing vocab for English, researching colleges for ECA, and studying for Biology.. It's only four weeks into the school year, people! Cut it out and relax a bit; the atmosphere still screams summertime!

I have a B in my favorite class. Aargh.. Reeder. Bah.

Still didn't see Teatime today.. I'm guessing that he noticed he had a stalker in the particular hallway and switched to a different one. But my mood is confused all the same- I don't need him hanging around, dropping elusive snippets of conversation that completely ruin my day.

This must be a record of some kind; confused for three days in a row.

Thank you, God, for making my life so easily comprehensible to everyone save me. Because Avvie is now under the impression that I'm a complete idiot, as opposed to his previous impression- that I was slightly idiotic.

2004-09-15T18:42:00.000-07:00

Avvie agrees with me, although he thinks I'm being too emotional about it. He likes the coldblooded vengeance scenario better, though, recalling who he is, I guess he would.

Shining thinks that my Mum is in the right. My mum would love to have a kid like her.

URGH. INTERNET. T_T

2004-09-15T18:37:00.000-07:00

I'M NOT GETTING A LAPTOP.

All these days of being uselessly nice, and I'm STILL not getting one!

So much for being nice, Betty. Niceness has NOTHING going for it. You're nice, and the world takes advantage of you. You see? What POINT is there in being nice to people like my mother, who doesn't care what happens to me as long as I pretend that I love her? What POINT is there in being nice to an immature goofball like my mother's boyfriend? What POINT does my life have?

Well, FUCK my mother's promises. Fuck them upside down and sideways. The only thing/person I can rely upon is myself and what I produce. And I will- by the hundred little gods and their thousand offspring- write my own book, and use the products to buy my laptop, fund my Internet, AND pay for part of my college.

Life is screwed.

2004-09-15T15:33:00.000-07:00

Talking to Rae about both my problems right now.

She helps.

>.>;

UNLIKE YOU PEOPLE.

x3

I'm so negative.. -hums and goes off to talk to Rae again-

2004-09-15T13:34:00.000-07:00

An MSN conversation:

I refute accusations of writing cheap gags; the Guardian pays quite reasonably these days says:
Aw... Young love...
The older we grow, the more of our faults we uncover, unveil, breathe life into.. Is youth, then, the core of perfection? says:
-holds head and bashes it against the table-

We were, of course, discussing the ineffable Teatimeness.. Guess who the head-basher is? :)

Today was.. confusing. Very confusing. I didn't see Teatime (again), but confusing things happened anyway. So I guess confusingness isn't reserved for just when I see him..

Avvie advises me to ditch this new thought immediately before I get too sucked in, the way I am with Teatime. But he also thinks I'm an idiot in general, so I'll just ignore him for now.. -hums-

Oh yeah, and one of the preps called me Gwendolyn. ><

How do I explain Gwen? Gwen originated as something of a dream, but it eventually took on a half-formed, twisted reality on the Internet when I told Rae that my name was Gwen. I don't, as a rule, lie to my best friend, so it's become a name that the best of my friends call me. :) (Which explains why none of the Masonites have so much as heard about the nickname Gwen except for a brief spurt in 8th grade English class.. Although it was pretty big in sixth and seventh grade.. before I moved. ><>

So the prep's huge, lipsticked lips besmirching it.. just ruins it. Gwen is supposed to be like my own reality; the person that I never show to my family anymore, the person that avoids reality and laughs her heart out on the Internet.

Me.

2004-09-14T11:46:00.000-07:00

I'll start today's entry by recapping yesterday evening.. (in which I had piano lessons) How do I put yesterday?

Oh yeah, like this: Yesterday SUCKED.

My new piano teacher is a rather elderly and eccentric-looking woman whom I think that I could grow rather fond of, were it not for the fact that my mother insists on hovering over every farking lesson herself. And won't shut up during them.

So now I'll probably end up stuck with some stupid piddling little BEGINNER'S piece, thanks to her. I mean, Summer's Dream was a gorgeous piece and everything.. but so is twinkle twinkle little star. And honestly, I'm beginning to think the latter would offer more of a challenge than 'Summer's Dream'.

And her boyfriend was walking around the house, shirtless, again. I'm beginning to think that he thinks of himself as the MAJOR SEX0Z0RZ in this house. Which is so incredibly.. bleah. He is lumpy, and possibly fatter than I am- a true feat.

GET A SHIRT ON, YOU IDIOT!

But.. yeah. That was everything worth mentioning about yesterday. Piano lessons, and my mother's boyfriend's continuing state of shirtlessness. Thank you, Lord, for instilling these pathetic events into my life. Or maybe it's all my fault that Mum had to go out and get a boyfriend who looks like someone burned him with a frying pan, and his skin is just barely managing to grow back..

Yeah, you might guess that I'm seriously.. how do they say it these days? Pissed? I'd go off on a tangent about how pissed might derive from the state that you'd be in if someone pissed on you (xP) but I really don't feel like it right now. What I do feel like is dragging that prep and her best friend through several brick walls.

Uh huh. They were being irritating again today. Who'd've thought it?

(..URGH. I've only gotten one review for the second chapter of Assumptions. ONE REVIEW.

My life has turned into pathetic-land.)

The term 'prep' should be synonymous with the definition: "a person who is seriously

a) intolerable
b) fucked-up
c) more full of him/herself than Mr. Affatato, who was at least not the first two definitions, and probably not the first unless on a bad day".

I haven't been this irritated since AG deleted Verloren, gorgeous Verloren and its equally gorgeous layout. Which I immodestly made. But there is something about preps that just seriously tick me off. Maybe it's the fact that they chew gum loudly, won't stop giggling, and seem to have nothing but guys on their minds. Maybe it's their insistance on having falsely colored hair of some sort, regardless of what color they started with. Or maybe it's just a natural dislike that's been passed down through generations to activate in me.

..Nah.

The beginning of the day started fairly well- I didn't fall asleep in History class, I passed the farking test, I didn't do badly in Spanish class (I hesitate to say well, although an A is nothing to be ashamed of.. I suppose.), and English class I finished early so that I could make a speedy trip to the library.. and get another book. :) They bought a new Gordon Korman! Who is, of course, my favorite from olden days. It looked a little-- odd, and I was hesitating on picking it up, then thought, What the hell, it's me. Like anyone cares what my bookcover has on it.

I managed to finish it sometime during Biology-- during which we were watching a pair of really boring videos-- and it is SUPERBLY funny! The usual work of Gordon-Kormanesque art. :) Despite all of Cory's efforts.. which, I suppose, was the beginning of the bad times today. I couldn't read Maskerade after talking to him- I've read it two thousand times (literally) and memorized every word (again literally), and although that's not deterred me before, it did today. I don't know why.

So anyway, I stalked as quickly as I could to ECA.. and realized that I hadn't seen Teatime all day, which irritated me all the more. However, the people inside irritated me more. The preps within, I mean. Gods, I've never seen such bugger-all idiots. Dad tells me that there's a good side to every person.. but there's none to the two nightmares that reside within.

I generally smile and say bitter things as fast as hell melts a snowball, though, so I'm hoping they'll eventually get around to stop whining about how mean I am and simply leave me alone.

Bah.. what is it with blondes and being irritating? That includes people with dyed hair, by the by, though I'm not sure why..

Stuff happened in ECA. It was stupid, and according to the advice Avvie gave me, it wouldn't happen if I kept following it. Unfortunately.. I'm not made of the same metal as he is. And doesn't he just love reminding me of that..

2004-09-13T15:40:00.000-07:00

Okay. Mum's boyfriend has a big mouth. He wouldn't shut up about his apparently womanizing friend, which is not, I tell you, not normal dinnertime conversation. Especially with a seven-year-old around.

He declared that his friend's a flirt, and my sister, all innocent, says, "I think I know what a flirt is." And then they, of course, goad her into saying precisely what a flirt is. (Something about Martin Mystery, the show. Which is cute, but stupid. T_T)

I don't know why, but I hate it. I HATE that they think it's so 'cute' to prompt her to give a stupid answer. I hate that he's around every night. (He wasn't for the weekend, which was a piece of good news for me; can't stand the silly sod. The laptop had better come pretty damn soon for this to be worth anything.) I'll start a countdown; if it's not with me by sixty days, I'll remind her, and if she's deliberately delaying, there WILL be hell to pay. Beginning with my shouting that Michael is a fucked-up bastard at the top of my lungs.

Which should be childish, but satisfying.

So I left the dinner table, claiming that I felt sick-- and I do, particularly around her boyfriend-- and came here as I always do. And I'm playing music whose lyrics consistently scream "GO TO HELL!" just to get a point across.

Hopefully they'll understand some of its garbled message.

Countdown: 60 days.

2004-09-13T15:31:00.000-07:00

Mum owes me a laptop for putting up with her boyfriend, and said as much.

SO WHY DON'T I HAVE IT YET? T_T

Some things-- like waiting for the damn laptop-- are just not worth the price you have to pay-- like sitting face to face with Mum's butt-ugly boyfriend. Not that I should be talking, of course, but at least I have the decency to recognize my own ugliness and refrain from dating anyone.. (Like I have a choice..)

Gah, dinner. I think I'm going to lose my appetite..

Laptop and half an hour of Internet. Laptop and half an hour of Internet.

Dammit. T_T

2004-09-13T15:27:00.000-07:00

What is it with people and having music on their xangas? It's so.. URGH. >.<

And I found Annie's blog. And she mentions me zip times, which makes me want to obliterate her and her pink xanga from existance for eternity. Particularly since that scrawly song gives me a headache.

Good feelings from the day completely eradicated by realization that no, Michael, (Mum's boyfriend) has not yet dropped off of the face of the earth and died..

..or even simply crawled beneath a rock to shrivel up.

Roses, Just Because

He loves me..
Gently, she drew her fingers along the contours of the petal, the silken softness beneath her fingers a comforting sensation. The bouquet was not hers- nor was the flower that wavered beneath her touch. But the concept held within each folded petal was hers, molecule and soul.
He loves me not..
Withdrawing a single rose from the flourishing abundance of blood-red, she did not, as most did, hold it to her nose in order to scent it. Instead, she held it apart from her, gazing at it in a faintly objective fashion. Her fingers caressed the stem lovingly, and were greeted by the sharp pricking of a thorn.
She did not make a sound as she carefully extricated her fingers from any thorn’s touch, only watched silently as a diminutive rose blossomed in a vibrant carmine hue upon the pricked finger.
He loves me..
She had moved towards the table, hardly noticing the direction within which she paced. But in a few short moments, petals fell in a wavering shower of bloody velvet, dusting the tan-bespeckled counter with patches of vivid ruby and faded blood. Petals fell, and she did not bother to pick them up again.
He loves me not..
One, of curious flexibility and velvet strength, she held to her lips, silently caressing it in a loving acknowledgment of its beauty before it, too, fell onto the counter, the beginning of the last generation.
On and on the rain of petals spiraled, inward until only a single petal rested upon the stem. This she turned to gaze at steadily, her breath a light but constant pressure upon it.
And wordlessly, without a single hand touching it, it, too, consented to fall.
He loves me..
The petals were gone, leaving her staring blankly at a stem, a mere line of faded jade dancing across her vision. Lying tautly within her hand, there seemed some residue of power within it, as though all the missing petals in the world could not strip it of its strength..
How she wished for strength like that in herself, when all her petals had fallen..
He loves me not..
A tremulous hand reached out, curling around the rose petals, clinging to the velvety touch as though it were the only anchor in the world.. And slowly, she began to tear them, each one producing an almost inaudible, silken sound that whipped through the air and was gone in a rustling moment.
He loves me..
Contours of silver and white blazed vividly against the tangible color of flaming garnet, as she carefully stripped away the surface to reveal the ivory workings beneath that vibrant color.. Shreds upon shreds they became, little more than strips of color in a monochrome world, and still she could not pause..
He loves me not..
Shattered puzzle-pieces of pliable blooms flew all around her in a mad whirl of petals and colors as she worked furiously, until the very last were little more than dispersed tatters of crimson that had scattered all across the floor. She paused, features pale, heart pulsing with the blood whose colors might have been derived from the flower she had obliterated..
She had lost count of the words, in the whirlwind of movement and hues that she had produced. And now, the question she had sought to answer remained unanswered still..
He loves me..
Or not?

2004-09-13T13:39:00.000-07:00

Now, on Monday, supposedly the worst day of the week, I'm feeling much better than I did on Saturday.

Possibly this has to do with the fact that I glimpsed Teatime in the halls today, and thereby spent the rest of my day absentmindedly scribbling Deserts and Rain all over my History notes. (Which were, unfortunately, the only notes I took all day. ;_; ) But it might not be- it's not like I'm dependent on the guy to provide me with a clue towards whether my mood should be good or foul for the day.

Well.. >>; Actually.. erm.

He looked kinda.. iffy though. :-/ Like he hadn't slept well or something.

Or maybe that's just me and my 11:30 bedtime.

But I saw Laura today. And she DIDN'T go. And she DIDN'T get called upstairs to do her presentation. It's people like that that make me think that the world's out to favor them.

Which infuriates me on just so many levels. But still.. Laura's a good person, and probably deserved the break.

..Am I being optimistic? Quick, someone, get me a glass of ice to dump on myself!

I wrote seven pieces for Vicissitudes this weekend, although I particularly fancy the two called Deserts and Rain (aha, seeing a connection, do you?) and Roses. Shining thinks that Roses is going to ruin my fantasy-bookworm-y-anti-social reputation. And I told her that I was doing it to prove a point; to prove that there's more to my face than a book plastered to the front, that there's more to the antisocialness than a perverse desire not to associate with the rest of the human universe as I know it.

A good writer should be versatile, and know how to write a bunch of things.

Plus, I want to see a reaction. I've become so predictable-- or maybe I've always been. But suffice it to say that I don't want to be, that I never have. I'm worth more than some petty life in which everyone can predict my reactions..

..or just tell me that I'm yelling at them.

Deserts and Rain

Since you’ve been gone, can I confess
That I’ve been dying slowly in recollections of you
The memories have become sacrosanct, and every word within profane
But still I miss you the way the deserts miss the rain.

I’ve never been one to dream my life away in fragments
Nor to revisit a part of you that’s never been existent
I don’t do things unless they’ll grant me something to gain
But still I miss you the way the deserts miss the rain.

Can you believe that, locked away in a chamber that the light will never touch
Are the things and the dreams that are all that’s left of you
Books and photos and the harsh reminiscences that they contain
But still I miss you the way the deserts miss the rain.

Midnight’s just another hour; sunrise a pointless illumination
The skies are crowded with a miasma of tears
I’ve torn all the books and photos until nothing can remain
But still I miss you the way the deserts miss the rain.

Your voice haunts my dreams, drowning deep in bitter cold
Olden times become new again, but there’s no helping the dreamers
I’ve all but lost the little sanity that I wanted to maintain
But still I miss you the way the deserts miss the rain.

In every star, the glint of a slanted, laughing glance
In every casual smile, I see your endless mirth
The only spirit of you that lingers is in my thoughts; that’s plain.
But still I miss you the way the deserts miss the rain.

The years have shown no fruition, each unfurling bud deceased
Each flowering bloom daubed in drab monochrome
Release from this is imaginary; life remains mundane
But still I miss you the way the deserts miss the rain.

Years will pass, and your memory will be forgotten
A desecrated gravestone whose etchings time has eroded
Impossibility it remains still, to forget the hatred and pain
But still I miss you the way the deserts miss the rain..

2004-09-11T20:18:00.000-07:00

[cheerful]After an.. odd conversation with Shining, I've realized that I haven't blogged on Friday after all.

Friday was.. scary. I picked up a lucky penny on Thursday, so was expecting luck of *some* kind to show up on Friday. Unfortunately not.

I had to present that day.. which really wasn't so bad, since I was barely up there for more than two minutes.. I notice Laura (Roberts, right?) wasn't there.. she gets to present on Monday. *Next* Monday, because we don't see Bell until then.

You evil lucky-person, you. ^_~

Anyway, I did my presentation on The Body Thief, and I think I carried off the British accent fairly well. No one started mocking me or anything.. so I think I didn't do a horrible job. And I know that I'll pass, at least. I had more than enough props, etc.

Probably could have been better, though. I mean, Candice Philpot made an intensely nice work of hers. Glorious.

And she did it with a book and a pot of flowers.

I should be jealous, but I'm not. :) Ah well.[/cheerful]

Okay, that's enough peppiness. Gods, I feel sick. No one should be forced to be that cheerful; particularly at a time so close to midnight.

2004-09-11T18:44:00.000-07:00

For those of you who have seen "So I Married an Axe Murderer", with the scene where Mike Myers steps up to the stage to do his odd little song..

I've figured out why he looks so familiar to me.

That horrible brow-raise look is practically Conor's TRADEMARK!

-understands things now-

-doesn't feel any better-

2004-09-11T18:33:00.000-07:00

Okay.. on the plus side, I managed to get some work done today on Yung, recruit several members, (okay, two, and both of them came willingly; I didn't have to do any persuading) and read several new chapters of my favorite pairing. :)

Also, I saw Shaman King (only one episode these days.. no back-to-back. Sigh.) and Yu-Gi-Oh's new episode. Zigue is obviously Yoh's brother, perhaps his twin, although he looks a bit maniacal. Still.. sometimes I think I'm like a combination of Yoh and Anna.

..Or maybe Avvie's Anna. Certainly it'd make sense..

On the minus side.. I did a little research. And everything I hate has just been confirmed.. But then again, how can I begrudge this? It's not my day to win, not my game to rule, not my life to paint in rose..

But then, I've always hated rose.

Shining's worries about turning into a farmer are so far from my mind now.. I should be feeling guilty, but I'm not. I should care, but I don't. I'm not.. numb, exactly. I can still feel. I can still choke and spit and cry. But there's just nothing to think about at the moment except a few things I'd rather not dwell upon, and everything else that comes to mind is too trivial to block out an eternity of thoughts.

There needs to be a 24/7 channel for anime out there, so that I could go and drown myself in Shaman King and Yu-Gi-Oh instead of standing here thinking about this. Sometimes, fanfics just aren't enough, and you need to immerse yourself in the real thing.

And sometimes, thinking about life isn't enough. You need to immerse yourself in the real thing.

But for now, I won't. Not because I can't..

Or maybe, yes, because I can't.

I can't/won't decide now. Getting offline soon.

Bye..

2004-09-11T14:38:00.000-07:00

An overheard conversation by chance..

..and suddenly life is twice as complicated.

Damn you, Teatime.

2004-09-08T10:50:00.000-07:00

Today was one of the stupidest days of my life.

Suffice it to say that singing and I do not go well together.

Suffice it to say even more that the random prep who reads the fanfictions in my binder get along even less well than singing and I.

Suffice it to say that I hate said random prep, would willingly slaughter her if only I knew how, and loathe her in general for being in three of my classes. Bloody bint.

2004-09-07T19:11:00.000-07:00

Annie is a dork.

2004-09-07T19:02:00.000-07:00

Getting a laptop to put up with Mum's obnoxious boyfriend.

INTERNET. WIRELESS INTERNET.

Wheeee.. =D

2004-09-05T21:37:00.000-07:00

Today, I've lied and told someone who Teatime is. And then told them the truth. (No, it isn't Daniel Johnson.. xP)

Today, I received /another/ accusation of identity to Teatime's pristinely anonymous self.

Today, I've been hit on and flirted with over the Internet. By another /girl/.

Today, I've found out that Teatime *is* going to Homecoming.

Today, I've had an enormous headache.

Today, I've eaten, in total, one bowl of pasta and two chocolate bars.

Today, I've listened to my mum threaten to cut down my bathroom door.

Today, I didn't do my homework-- which means as soon as I get offline, Avvie will make me study for it.

Today, it's midnight. MIDNIGHT AND HOMEWORK DO NOT MIX. T_T

Today was not a good day.

Tomorrow, DON'T MESS WITH ME.

2004-09-04T20:15:00.000-07:00

Homecoming is coming. I see it in the blogs. I see it in people's eyes.

sherBERT kan (11:15:53 PM): i got asked to homecoming

I HEAR IT IN BETTY'S VOICE.

What if Teatime goes to HomeComing?

What if he goes WITH someone?

GAH!!!!!!!!!!!

2004-09-03T19:57:00.000-07:00

Normally, I spend time complaining about how uneventful my life is, how dull, and that I would wish for anything to brighten up what is otherwise a life of monochrome. Today, unfortunately, is not one of those days.

It most probably began in Spanish class, where the girl who sits behind me (some random prep whose name I cannot be buggered to recall) keeps putting her feet on the metal basket-thing under my chair. Considering the fact that this is one of the most prominent faults that I loathe in other people, she drove me nuts with it. The fact that, every time she tried to rest her feet upon it, I would dive in and pick up something of my stuff from out of the basket, seemed to amuse her. And she, being a prep, told all her friends to watch me while she did so. And they, too, giggled.

Needless to say, my morning was eventful and unpleasant. It culminated in the fact that I thought that (for Picture Day) the alphabet they were calling out was for homerooms.. when in reality they were for our /own/ last names. So I strolled down to the auditorium when they called for Davis (my homeroom is a Davis), only to discover that /I/, being anything but a Davis, would have to wait until after lunch.

Unfortunately, by the time I returned to the class I was in at the time (Spanish), class had not yet ended. The preps found my mistake all the more humorous, and I was forced to endure an encore of their “You Are an Utter Dolt” sniggering. I fled the classroom as soon as I could, in order to avoid the (falsely) red-headed dolt, who was already beginning to whinge that I disliked her for reasons unbeknownst to her, that she hardly deserved it, etc.

History was a slight alleviation of the stress that I had been building up all day; they served cookies and cream ice cream. It was the quality kind, no less- my favorite- and I was fairly pleased with all of it. Admittedly, since I was so absorbed in the ice cream, I did not pay much attention to the presentations. However- it could be so much worse.

English.. could not have, by any standards, been called terrible. Mr. Reeder was playing something by Blink 182 as I walked into class today, so I rather enjoyed that. And we had this fairly odd discussion about Cinderella and the original tale. (Which, in case you are interested and ignorant, involved the stepsisters actually cutting off their toes and heels in order to fit their feet into the fur shoe. Not glass; fur. If it was glass, the prince might have noticed sooner than he did. And the birds that Cinderella had befriended pecked the eyes of her ugly stepsisters out at the wedding.) Fairy tales have always been my favored study- and so it was lovely.

Biology was surprisingly good as well- although a trifle embarrassing towards the end of the period. Since our class was well ahead of the schedule in regards to the other Biology classes that Imrie teaches, she decided to play a review game with us. It was the time-honored, traditional match of boys against girls, naturally. (Although there was a brief interval in between where “Van”- our manly Vanna White- wanted to make his own team, composed of Cory and himself. After realizing that he would have to go against a five-point lead, he gave it up.) Even more surprisingly, I figured prominently in the right answers of the girls.. although there was one instance where I was the cause of their inaccuracy- something stupid and not to be thought of.

There were some hilarious scenes in between the studies of biology: for example, there was one guy who insisted on doing the wave, and got all the boys to do it too.. All the guys except one- Cory, who was sitting at the end of the second row. So every time they did the wave, they rustled up and down.. with him as a stolid anchor at the end. It was hysterical. No, I have no idea why.
Of course.. there was also the bit where I glanced towards the timeline for an answer to a question posed to the boys. One of them (cannot remember his bloody name, or I would curse it nicely and thoroughly) immediately started up the yell that I was cheating, cheating, cheating(!!!!!). It was a call that several of the boys immediately took up; I am hardly a popular figure at school. And I told him to shut up- which elicited great laughter from the girls. (Mockery?) The instigator looked rather mockingly snooty, and made comments about how greatly my telling him to shut up affected him, and how he would write it in his journal.
He is almost as bad as Spencer Tepe. Except at least I do not have to sit next to /him/.

Still, in the end, we (sadly) ended up tying with the boys.. despite the magnificently proportioned minds of the people on our side. (Bad luck in combination with a set of equally bad questions, I would say.. if I were hugely biased. Which, of course, I am not. –angelic expression-) So.. as the tiebreaker point, a representative was chosen for each team. I barely restrained over-loud laughter as Cory was unanimously ushered to the front. It was less funny as I realized that /I/ was the unanimous choice for the girls. I could curse my stupid instinct for the spotlight and my apparent inability to say no as they all chimed in that they did not want to go- that I should go in their stead.

So I went, praying that Imrie would give me an easy tiebreaker question.. And she did- the challenge was to spell her name. I think Cory deliberately threw the match- he had to pause to think about it (I was watching him), and then very carefully write out her name. And even then, he spelt it wrong. (Imree) I am not sure /why/ he’d throw the match, only that I am relatively sure he’s not /stupid/. And if he is not stupid, he would have gotten it right in a trice- particularly since he understood the question before I did. (I had to ask her to repeat it.)

But then, the girls won. What am I worried about?

I am LOVING the thought of ECA-B’s oral unit! I think I am going to do an excerpt from The Tale of the Body Thief, by Anne Rice. I’ll post the bit I’m going to do here, in script format.

David: (thoughtfully) God is the occult secret of the universe. (long pause) I think the answer to the meanings of our lives might be in Genesis. I really do.
Lestat: David, you amaze me. Talk about missing pieces. Genesis is a bunch of fragments!
David: Yes, but telling fragments remain to us, Lestat. God created man in his own image and likeness. I suspect that that is the key. No one knows what it really means, you know. The Hebrews didn’t think God was a man.
Lestat: And how can it be the key?
David: God is a creative force, Lestat. And so are we. He told Adam, ‘Increase and multiply’. That’s what the first organic cells did, Lestat, increased and multiplied. Not merely changed shape, but replicated themselves. God is a creative force. He made the whole universe out of Himself through cell division. That’s why devils are so full of envy- the bad angels, I mean. They are not creative creatures; they have no bodies, no cells, they’re spirit. And I suspect it wasn’t envy so much as a form of suspicion- that God was making a mistake in making another engine of creativity in Adam, so like Himself. I mean, the angels probably felt the physical universe was bad enough, with all the replicating cells, but thinking, talking beings who could increase and multiply? They were probably outraged by the whole experiment. That was their sin.
Lestat: So you’re saying God isn’t pure spirit.
David: That’s right. God has a body. Always did. The secret of cell-dividing life lies within God. And all living cells have a tiny part of God’s spirit in them, Lestat, that’s the missing piece as to what makes life happen in the first place, what separates it from nonlife. Men share the spirit of God. (pauses) Others have struck upon this theory. God is the fire, and we are all tiny flames; and when we die, those tiny flames go back into the fire of God. But the most important thing is to realize that God Himself is Body and Soul! Absolutely. Western civilization has been founded upon an inversion. But it is my honest belief that in our daily deeds, we know and honor the truth. It is only when we talk religion that we say God is pure spirit and always was, and always will be, and that the flesh is evil. The truth is in Genesis, it’s there. (thoughtful pause) I’ll tell you what the big bang was, Lestat. It was when the cells of God began to divide.Lestat: This really is a lovely theory, David. Was God surprised?
David: No, but the angels were. I’m quite serious. I’ll tell you the superstitious part- the religious belief that God is perfect.

-pauses- Will continue this later. When I have time to waste in blogging, as opposed to talking to Rae.

Oh.. and quote of the day: (Dedicated to Avvie the Bitchy.)

(Discussion of feminist rights. I do a little mini-rant on it. Hence the following convo.)
Avvie: Don't bitch at me.
Me: Who's bitching?
Avvie: I'm sorry, would you prefer I say bastarding? Just for equal chances' sake?

2004-09-02T12:36:00.000-07:00

Yung is twenty board descriptions from completion..

I have a unit test on history next week, and a spanish test tomorrow.

I'm working on chapter-updates for both Doich and Assumptions.

And I'm happy, because Avvie's promised to stay for at least a little while longer. The fact that I saw Teatime again today, and he said hi, means nothing at all.

-hummingly innocent- Nothing at all.

RAE! -tackleglomps in a tearfully happy fashion- Missed you so badly..

That's all of importance today..

Wait.

-scratches out everything except the mention of Rae- THAT's the ONLY important thing..

2004-09-01T12:03:00.000-07:00

There’s an odd, if informal, elegance to the word ‘damn’- though –god-damn is a different matter. Damn is eloquent and brief- to the point and.. almost poignant, in its own way. There's an odd, melodic sound to "Hell", like the faintest ring of a harp. A /cursed/ harp. The others have a harsher sound- true curses to the proverbial bone. Bitch is a bitter, angry word, of accusation and of biting fury. Shit is a cursing one of frantic denial, and much resembles its true meaning in the sound of its speaking. Fuck is a word for hurting- a word to sting, to bite, to kill. Whore is an empty, meaningless word- little more than a frenzied breath.

Notice how most of the curses in the English language are directed towards ungrateful females? The men really /were/ opportunistic in their reign, apparently. Particularly since the only male-involved insult is technically directed more towards the shame of his parents, rather than himself.

I love the touch of ice-cold water with nine droplets of lemon juice interspersed within. It's a flavorless bitter frost- water without the lemon juice is slightly flavored, though I can't tell you with what. It'd be like trying to describe the color loranel to a person who only sees seven colors in a rainbow.

There's also something particular about a day when the sun illuminates all corners of the world, but a breeze chills her vivid fury, so that only the slightest heat emanates from the skies. Today was that kind of day- an expansive azure firmament extending towards infinity above me, with only a few indolent clouds to intersperse the vivacious cerulean above.

The lines of the houses were sharply, finely, drawn, their detail available if only the eye availed itself of interest enough to inspect them. It's one of the reasons that pictures are so often a failure to capture the sheer indomitable life of reality- the details are sparing, blurred to the eye that was not upon them at that time.

It's why vivid /life/ is so preferrable to spending your entire life indoors, seeing them through pictures.

Today was the kind of day that just drifts by your eyes- you don't really have to pay much attention to the life within to get by its contents. It's, as Reeder would put it, the "Hump Day". Top of the hill, you feel some accomplishment.. but now you're sliding on your way down, and quite frankly, you could give less than a damn about what happened yesterday. You're on your way down the hill- who cares about when you were on top?

The connection with Avvie is being severed- we haven't talked much in the past few days, and when he speaks of how there must be changes in this or that, I find myself hardly paying attention. Occasionally, I might soothe him with a "Yes, yes, of course.." but in general, there's no attention to be paid him.

Let me make this clear: I don't want to let go of his bossiness. He's the only person that lets me get things done. Without him, I'd probably sit in front of the computer all day.. typing wastrel entries like this one. In a way, a decidedly /platonic/ way, I love what he is to me. I love the fact that he has the power to make me better than I am.
I love the fact that briefly, I'm greater than who I am now- I have purpose, I have a drive, a desperate need to fulfill.
So unless he cuts it first, and refuses to acknowledge that he ever had power over me in the first place, I'm going to go on doing what I'm doing now. And hoping to Hell that it works, and that everything stays.

Received three new reviews today; one for each fanfiction. The slog of fan-mail is slowing; I suppose it's time for me to pull another chapter for the all time favorite of Doich.. although I'm really not particularly in the mood to do so- more in the mood to add to my novel.

People are beginning to look curiously at my binder, and so I itch to put something of my own into it. /You/ know. (Or perhaps you don't.. sometimes I forget that it's not me I'm talking to.) To add to the curiosity of it all.

I found my mum's diary of two years back and read it. Did I say that already?

Let me simply restate that she is every inch as domitable and easily overawed as she is now.

Well, perhaps not so easily overawed.. But subconsciously, she's on a roll to look for a male who will care for her, who will dominate her as thoroughly as Dad did when they were married. (Despite the fact that it was for this that she divorced him in the first place.) She bounced from Dwane to David to Michael- all of them fairly tall men (taller than her, at least), American, with loud voices that irritate my ears, but apparently don't hers. She's /looking/ for someone to dominate her, to overrule her and be "the man of the household". It's been a stereotype that seems to have been seared into her mind.

My mother, the weakling. Pah.

If ever I get married- or dragged into a couple, or engaged, all of which seem equally dubious prospects at this weight and height- it will be to someone on equal terms. I will /not/ follow Mum's silly example, prattle about how females are exactly equal to males, no more, no less, and then go off to hunt for some idiotic /man/ to dominate me.

And I wish she'd hurry up and find someone at least remotely intelligent. Perhaps that's why she likes her current (dim-witted) boyfriend so much-- because if he doesn't dominate in a way suited to her tastes, she'll simply pull the plug on him.

..Bah. My mum's not that lovely looking- so how can she bounce from three boyfriends in two years?

I HAVEN'T EVEN CAUGHT THE ATTENTION OF A /SINGLE/ GUY ALL MY LIFE.

>.<

2004-08-31T12:27:00.000-07:00

What I Have Gained Today:

-- The realization that I've officially lost my free Internet. Ouch.. Mom probably noticed her mistake yesterday. Still, I have her diary now-- albeit her diary from six years back. STILL. It's pretty good to have it..
Even if she accuses my dad of being an abuser. HA. As if. Dad couldn't abuse a tomato.

-- Cory's pointing out that it's more likely that I blocked him than vice versa. But I'll swear to the gods I didn't!

-- Two pounds, according to the damn weighter. -steps on it; hard- Diet and exercise, here I come. -shudders-

-- Homework-- must make four-slides for a powerpoint, spanish homework, and read history textbook in order to study tomorrow.

-- A FULL glimpse of some idiot's boxers. They had fluffy clouds on them, and were blue. And believe it or not, I didn't want to see them- he was just crossing my seat over the bus stop and his pants were so low as to reveal all of them- idiot. Why is it that the fashion for guys these days is to have pants so baggy that they're just about to fall off?
Sure, for the sex-crazed teenagers out there, it probably helps to have them that loose.. but otherwise, the doiches who wear them look like idiots. Idiots with fluffy cloud underwear.

-- A crushed rose petal; Michael's been sending a bouquet to my mum again. Dammit. But at least she'll be in a better mood today.. which means that now would probably be a good time to ask for whatever I want.
..Sadly, I don't want anything right now.

-- An interesting insight into Judy's mind- she doesn't like ****. Bwaha- I hath heard enough.

'Nuff said for today.. except for the fact that I didn't see Teatime.

-deep sulk-

2004-08-30T14:10:00.000-07:00

Quote of the Day: (Because it suits me and my mood.)

Broken promises. Broken dreams. Broken people.

Broken.

It doesn’t belong with High School.

After all, these are “the best years of your life”. The years when you’re strongest.

Not used up, not dried out. Just beginning to live, not ready to finish.

They don’t know the meaning of hurt- laughing girls who don’t think anyone hears them, and boys who will take on the world. Hallways stuffed with children, all in their own worlds, all doing their own things.

Pushing through groups of people, shoving no one in particular out of the way, complaining loudly about this teacher, or that one. Not caring. Not thinking.

Living.

I can’t remember the last time I lived.

----

When did being broken become a good thing?

I’ve noticed, recently, how many people are famous because they were broken people once and “fixed themselves”. Or how many books are about broken childhoods, how many people claim they care “about all of the broken people out there”. They say it with tears running down their faces, but there is this smile on their face. Not a smile of peace or forgiveness, though. It is the same smile they use when they talk about their wife having a baby or their newest book.

If they only knew, they wouldn’t smile like that.

But, perhaps, they would still cry.

It wouldn’t matter if they did.

We don’t need their tears.

-----

I looked up the word “broken” in a thesaurus. It can also be said as “out of order” or” unusable”, “shattered” or “ruined”, “defeated” or “crushed”.

So, perhaps, using “broken” makes me seem steeped in self-pity. I don’t really pity myself, though. How can I?

Things are so much better, now. But I know that I’ve been broken. Is that self-pity speaking?

No. It’s fact. It’s happened. Why else would I feel so... old?

And I am old. Too old.

------

When did I grow so distorted? When did I forget?

When did I lose myself?

And who was I after all?

If I can only remember...

2004-08-30T12:01:00.000-07:00

And.. just because I'm *superbly* bored..

You have an angry soul! Angry Souls arent always
angry, but they cannot easily forgive and hold
grudges. You probably often get in fights with
your friends and family, and its difficult for
you to understand. When someone makes a
mistake, you dont let go easily and hold on to
those memories. Your very stubborn and your
rage is known to everyone. Though you never
actually mean it, you can say mean things in a
fight and go over board. Many people are
sometimes intimidated by your anger. But you
have many redeeming qualities and those are
that you are quite intelligent and smart. You
would make a good businesswoman or lawyer
because you know how to prove your point. You
cherish the ones around you, and appreciate
life, even though you can complain or throw a
tantrum now and then. The good things is, you
keep your emotions very outspoken, and are
normally a very happy person because all your
rage is let on the outside. Anger is simply a
state, but you, yourself as a person, are
great.

What Kind of SOUL do you posses? (For Girls only) Incredible Anime Pictures!
brought to you by Quizilla

2004-08-30T11:53:00.000-07:00

Okay. Horoscope was close. As I passed him in the hallway today, Teatime was not flirting, nor being flirted with, as far as I could tell. (And believe me, I leaned as far in as I could without looking conspicuous to get a glimpse.) But he was walking next to another girl, and both of them looked like they were having a fairly decent time in whatever conversation they'd set up.

Irrationally jealous? You bet I am.

On the other hand, I've introduced someone else to the wonders of Cassie Claire's Draco Dormiens, I just got four reviews (to separate fics; if it was to the same fic, I would joyfully hug everyone to death).. and flirting or not, I saw Teatime today!

It's not been a bad day, really.

Post more later.. or maybe not at all. My life is dulllllllll.

2004-08-29T18:30:00.000-07:00

Blogging three times in one day.. I am pathetic.

Okay. Just because I am INCREDIBLY bored, I'm checking my this-week horoscope:

"This week is highlighted by your ability to get involved in more creative endeavors."

Darling, I'm *always* involved in creative endeavors. That is to say, a new way to stalk Teatime, and my novel (which is currently at four point five pages in Times New Roman Size Eight. Gah).

"Don't try to force issues that don't matter. Your personal life may experience some setbacks. Try not to wear your emotions on your sleeve."

The first bit is advice that I'm going to try to keep in mind- Avvie's not advising it, but then again, he's one of those super-detailed people who will, just to pick a trait at random, do their homework on Saturday, and then make other people do it. (-pointed glare-) He'd force a point through a brick wall. And my personal life just got cut back for the week- Mum figured out how I was getting extra time on the Internet and slammed it.

Damn you, Mummy dearest. -beams-

As to my emotions.. I'm wearing a short-sleeve right now.. so that shouldn't be too much of a problem.

"Limitations due to a lack of open communication are apparent."

Heck yeah. The problems with my mum are *all* due to lack of open communication. *However*. The problems are of my choosing. So it's all good.

"Jealousy and resent will mount if someone tries to steals your thunder. Be careful when dealing with affairs of the heart. Try to broach the problem with more compassion. Don't be tempted to spend too much, in order to impress people."

..You know, the image that I'm getting from this is that someone's about to flirt with Teatime this week.. somewhere in my view.

-growls and struggles not to rush out to throttle all females of Teatime's acquaintance-

"Relationships can be hurtful if you don't keep them in perspective."

Point taken. I'm just a mad person, and Teatime's.. distinctly reminiscent of Yugi.

..GAH. That description is more apt than I'd realized.

"Don't become fanatical about your dreams."

Bad advice. -scratches it out- I'm always fanatical about anything I take an interest in.

"By week's end, you'll be able to pick up some valuable information by spending time with an older friend or relative who shares your interests."

Okay.. I'll make sure to talk to elder people often this week, just to make sure I'll pick up said valuable information.

"Attend an antique auction or a flea market. You're sure to find some good buys."

-whimpers at the reminder of now-lost garage sales-

Yep.. that's all.

2004-08-29T18:09:00.000-07:00

My AIM is so blargghed up so that it's not even funny. This morning it was working (and you should've seen the ecstatic expression on my face when I realized that), and now it's not.

>.<

AIM, thou'rt toying with the dangerously volatile emotions of a teenager sans sugar for several days now.

Don't. MESS with me.

On another note.. my computer won't play anything except the Savage Garden CD, and I'm too lazy to get my CD player down here- or bring out the earphones.

Which means I've listened to Carry On Dancing two million times today. Which isn't too bad, since I listened to Promises for the same amount of times (if not more) and I LOVE it.

Well don't you know I need a little indulgence
Listen to the hunter becoming hunted
Every day there's a million advances
Don't be too forceful, you'll ruin your chances

Well don't you know that
Time is a broken glass that splinters against the wall
But the picture's coming back now baby
And I'm going to lose it all

Don't go making all these promises
you know you cannot keep
There's a time to play the king
and a time to be the thief
Don't go making all these promises
you know you cannot keep
You'll know time will be the thief
and your fallen king will end up alone..

I LOVE that song. ^-^

..Gah. Spent way too much time thinking about Teatime today. It's just not healthy.

Also spent a mediocre amount of time talking to Avvie- only a couple minutes in spurts, but they were often-spurts. The phone bill's going to look awful weird if they do it by amounts of time..

..Gah. I WANT TO LISTEN TO SOMETHING OTHER THAN SANTA MONICA!

-clicks on Promises for what has to be the millionth time-

After this, I'm going to go in my room and dance with my CD player to these songs- Savage Garden is the kind of song that prompts me to just dance wildly, with a lot of high-kicks and such. (Except for Santa Monica- it gives me a more relaxed kind of feeling.)

..Don't ask me why. >>; I never said I was logical, now did I?

Besides, I've tried dancing, and I liked it. Now if only I weren't so damned self-conscious, I could go and ask if I could take lessons..

Not great day today- I posted my Artemis Fowl fanfic, only to have someone point out that they probably didn't have English-- ANY form of it-- three thousand years ago.

Thank the gods I got an idea to make it work into the plot.. Now I'll look like a genius, as opposed to a total souped-up idiot. Though at this point in time, I'll settle for a mediocre person with nice hair.

Uurf! I need to read more Seto-centric fics, preferrably Seto/Anzu, but at this point, I'll take ANYTHING. It's been my first fanfic-binge in a couple years, and believe me, in terms of fanfics, I'm STARVING. I mean.. I'm even going around reading my friends' blogs, and that doesn't generally happen anymore, ever since I discovered that they (gasp) weren't particularly interesting people. No more interesting than I am, though slightly more so.

Baaaaaaaaah. Boredom can warp one's mind so greatly..

2004-08-28T19:39:00.000-07:00

Today’s been a fairly dull day, to say the least. I wrote about seven board descriptions for Yung, converted several more of my favorite fanfics from digital pixels to paper, and went around the house in an increasingly sour mood because of an enormous headache growing inside my head. And, as always, whenever I grow headaches, I get broody and uncertain of myself. More uncertain of myself than usual, that is.

Being left alone generally means that I have more time to dedicate to myself and my uncertainty regarding my identity.. At third grade, I thought of myself as something of the bookish type, the bookworm-y girl who wasn’t really afraid to admit that. I was proud of reading more than everyone else, of knowing what ‘aureate’ meant, of being able to present 100% in my math exams. Now, though, I’m less sure.

Everyone keeps hinting that high school is the junction of life- where you confirm the direction in which your life will go.. and that it’s an irreversible decision. And I’ve tried changing.. gods know I’ve tried. I’ve tried changing a million things, but it seems I’m not changing at all. I’m still same old, same dull, same /child/.

I don’t want to be the sameness factor. I don’t want to be stuck in this rut forever. Gods know that Avvie’s tried telling me that for a while- and it’s worked slightly on my home life, if not precisely for the better, then at least to secure me both a stand-off and a bewildered opponent. But I just don’t have the nerve he does. I can’t stand trying to act the way he does. With my home life growing all the more complex because of whom I’m imitating, school is all I can fling myself into these days- school and whatever hours of internet that I can illicitly bring on.

And people, more often than not, ignore me at school.

Though even if they talked to me, I don’t think they’d take kindly to my manner- I’d be reluctant for a while, then promptly latch onto them. It’s the way I’m feeling these days- as though everything’s swaying furiously- as though the world is a head and I’m a speck of lice that they’re trying to flick off.

“My” therapist Linda says that it’s most likely due to the sense of detachment I’m trying to cultivate. Apparently, to her, I’m seeing emotions as counter-productive, and thereby detaching myself from them.

Ha. I wish. I still cry too much to be of any use, and with Avvie’s technique, I’m feeling /closer/ to my tears, not farther away from them.

It’s enough for me to wish Avvie were dead.

God, I feel both hot and cold- it’s freezing and too hot at the same time. I feel the way I do at midnight, having stayed up for an entire day- sick, drunk, but with an ecstatic twist that makes me dizzy. I feel like scowling, smiling, telling Teatime everything.. I feel like doing everything. I don’t feel like sitting down at a desk and writing everything that I’m feeling.

Isn’t it a pity that it’s the only thing I can do anymore.

Oh.. right.. my random autobiography for English. Here it is:
I
found out about Julius Caesar
when I was six
That he’d died on the day I was born.
The Ides of March- a day of death.
What a fitting day for me.
Spent 210,401 seconds dreaming
About reincarnation
Before I realized that I wasn’t Roman.
Christmas baubles decorated the house on the hallowed eve and
I loved the pink ones
And put them up myself.

Bitten by a goose when I was seven
Snapped at by a sister when I was eight
Gnawed on by a rat when I was nine
Nibbled my own fingernails when
I was ten.
Wearing myself to the bone
I’ve stayed up past midnight
with lovely fur slippers
but no Prince Charming
Still, I saw who won the Stanley Cup
Though I got chewed out for
staying up so late.
I feel like a dog treat.

Went through a phase of Good Charlotte
And wearing black and white
Still haven’t gotten over all that black
Though I’m worn out all the white.
I don’t believe in goodness
Only the degrees of evil.
Because of my chapter with religion
Which still has my picture
on a church wall.
A futurebiography might involve
My going to that church to tear it down.
I’m atheist ‘til ever.

I worshipped a girl of sixteenthat I’d never met before
Followed all the trends that she set me
Including witchery and spells
Silver and herbs intrigued me for a year
And I lost my faith in Christianity
Still
Who needs God when you’ve a
tangible idol?
Inevitably, we hated each other after
Because I stole a name from the novel she was writing
We haven’t spoken since.

My parents divorced when I was eight
Surprisingly
Despite the fact that they’ve forgotten each other
I’m not traumatized
Though I’m told I was
screaming and crying
And begging for the chance to die
I was quite the drama queen
In the old days.

I’ve fallen in love
Nine hundred and twenty-six times
(Believe me, I’m counting)
Thank the gods that
only three of those times
were with actual humans.
I’ve felt the lash of heartbreak
Insofar as it goes for an eleven-year-old’s heart
Such a calamity
So easily forgotten
Just proves that children’s hearts are
fragile
fickle
Crying for the loss of someone
I’ve never really known.

I’ve sympathized with Frankenstein
My creator rejects me on a daily basis.
My bedroom walls cry “Are you happy now?”
I’ve taped my favorite lyrics all over them.
I’ve listened to four languages of music
And screamed their words aloud
Musical lyrics
And shrieked at my mother
For the thousand betrayals
And cried for an end
To a Sahara of pain
But for all the dissonance
The wordless songs are favored
For the fifth
The wordless
holds my dreams.

I’ve watched the procedures of Nine-Eleven
And stupidly asked about Detroit.
I’ve bought and sold a thousand slaves
And stolen a few from Konami and 4Kids.
Stories based on my favorite cartoons.
They have names like Saral and Setai
And may they someday be famed.
Before them ranges a thousand pages
Each inscribed with my name
A forgotten story that will never get its happy end
Though a thousand voices call my name
In soundless words, inscribed in ink.
And I do tend to cackle
Because their words are mine.

I have opened a can of worms in life
And found it beyond my control
My sister is the particular worm can
That I wish I’d never found.
I have opened a box of worms
And never caught a single trout.
In going to the bathroom at midnight
I’ve stepped on a living fish

I’ve drowned myself in hours of computer time
And cried when they were destroyed
I drowned myself when I was six
In the pool
In the water
Only to be caught by the security of another’s arms.

I have collected a thousand names
Monikers that I’ll never go without
My reputation on the bus that precedes me
So that no one will sit in my seat.
By my side I’ve collected four avatars
Those who whisper advice
When I trust no one else to give it.
The current one exists
Vivid in a silver trenchcoat
In a blank white binder
that I won’t leave behind.

I’ve realized that all my best friends
Have been people I’ve never really met
My current one calls herself Tialyn
Who lives in the land of beaches that
I never want to go near.
Smoky Mountain was enough
As I climbed to halfway point
And drank from the crystalline spring
Sweeter than spun sugar.
I’ve tasted maple syrup on the
Crisp pristine snow
Tried melting cheddar on pasta
Tried to remember who I am.
Not a thousand names
But me
And a woven rope that
binds my wrist
Helps me to remember best of all
To whom and what I belong.
To me.

LATER:
The tentative one-shot romance fanfic for Yu-Gi-Oh was admirably well received! -hugs the incredibly encouraging reviews of Kerrie-chan, Fire Maiden Kiya, lyf, MarsWarGod, The Otherworlder and, of course, Anime-AngelWings- I have now decided that I luff Yu-Gi-Oh, and will continue writing fanfics for it. x3 And maybe even add a chapter to Doich-- ooh.. now there's a thought.

I should probably work on another few one-shots to establish myself before I go around posting second chapters, though.. one-shots are fun.. Besides which, I want to try for something humorous this time- perhaps involving Yugi. Certainly not involving Tea-- I hope.

Six reviews in one day.. -muses happily-

I also caught the two episodes of Shaman King on Fox Box today. Lovely..

It's only a slight pity that Anna wasn't on the show- though she's a lot more funny in the manga. Asakura's funnier in the manga too- lazybones that he is, only wanting to become Shaman King because he thinks that he'll have more of an opportunity to be lazy..

He reminds me a bit of me, actually.

In any case, I nearly died laughing over today's episodes, when Wooden Sword had his famous little hairstyle sliced in half, and went mad. *That* was true comedy.

Though I admit that I can't wait for its new season premiere, either- it sounds soap-operaish, which should be no end of fun.

Well.. Avvie hasn't made me do all my homework today, though he did make me read that stupid history assignment. And he got me to revise/print my Random Biography.

But tomorrow's Sunday, when I will finish my homework!

..Unless he makes me get it done tonight. Damn.

Well, that's all to be said of today- see you later. Bye!

2004-08-27T20:29:00.000-07:00

Ecchht..

MAJOR drop in self-confidence today- went around checking other people’s blogs to see when I was last mentioned:

Judy- Dunno. Does she have a blog?

Kelly- Ditto.

Sherry- Gah. Forgot her address.
Betty- Nada. Though I suppose it’s reasonable, considering I’m in nothing except her lunch, and I don’t do anything noteworthy at lunch. Come to think of it, I don’t do anything noteworthy, period.
I need to dress in vibrant pink more.

Annie- Sometime in June. Involving Hugh Grant and, for some reason, my /mom/. Annie, if you want to talk about my mom’s good taste, see her latest boyfriend, who is gawky, fat (though I suppose I shouldn’t be talking about that) and /damned/ ugly. If I looked like my mom, I wouldn’t go for someone who looks like my grandfather. I’m utterly serious. He’s got a horrible tan that makes him look purple, with white-blonde hair that looks more white than blond, and he’s got a face like a smashed stone wall.

Cory- Quote: “its all way good when you get to bother her. Except for when she hits you in the head with a book.” He likes annoying me. Greeaat. Now I have an extra reason as to why I should avoid him AMAP. (As Much As Possible.) The doich’s in two of my classes.

I would like to reserve this moment to stab whoever put me in two classes with someone who thinks that my only purpose in life is to be annoyed by him.

Oh right.. I did. Because I didn’t want Chem and Bio in the same tri.

Daaaaaaaammmmmmmmmmmnnnnnnnnnn.

-sulk-

Worked more on my novel today- it didn’t go particularly well, since I didn’t get very far. Ah well, despite the fact that it’s now 11:04, I’ll work more on it tonight. Procrastinator that I am.. :)

I also didn’t get too far on my homework. (I.e. I didn’t work on it at all.) Avvie isn’t terribly happy about it, but he’ll just have to sulk away- I’m going to dedicate this weekend to –me-, not some ridiculous assignment. And then, like usual, I’ll cram it all in on Sunday.

Unless Avvie’s going to be a deliberate spoilsport and make me do it all on Saturday morning..

Which he probably will.

All the same, Avvie’s a terrible darling, which makes him all the more lethal. One of these days, he’s really going to get on my nerves.. but for the moment I’ll just have to bear with him and listen to him. Including the bit where he tells me to assassinate Michael, Mum’s new boyfriend.

Alas- if only I had the skill/money/time to do that.. But no, I just have to sit around and watch Mum integrate him into the family. He’s already got the little sister on his side- gave her forty dollars and now she swoons whenever he looks at her. It’s almost enough for me to dump Avvie on his lazy arse and pick up an Anzu card instead- at least then I’d be well-paid.

But the Avvie won’t be so easily deterred- he knows me well enough to manipulate me sufficiently, and we’ll wait. In anger, shame and tears, we’ll wait. And when we’re ready.. we’ll do something horrible to Michael.

We just have to figure out what.

Oh.. right. I should probably introduce Avvie.. but I won’t. I’ll just keep him to myself.. for reasons of being laughed at if anyone found out he existed.

Avvie would probably convince me to kill them (not literally!)- and to be truthful, I wouldn’t mind, myself. Avvie’s, if I have any say in it, going to stick around for the next couple years.

And for those of you with minds, yes, Avvie is a codename. It’s also short for Avvie’s rank, but I’m not going to mention that, either.
Shaman King on tomorrow! Can’t wait to make sure that Shaman King *is* on in America- and hopefully it’ll be the right kind. Heh.. I’m a closet cartoon obsessive- I need to dress more irrationally, so as to make that more obvious. Currently, all it looks like I am is someone addicted to reading from a binder.

Shining and Darleen noticed The Binder today.. which was kind of weird, because I think they thought it was a school paper of some sort. Which would be /really/ weird- I don’t read any school assignments on Friday. Ever. Unless it’s really important, and it’s going to take me all weekend. Though Avvie, the non-procrastinator, will probably change that.

Avvie= more annoying than Tepe-the-bastard.

But then again, a lot of people seem to be that lately.

I’ve been thinking about my birthday lately- mostly about what a disaster it was last year. And a sneaking thought has occurred to me.. What if I planned it out myself this year, so that there would be no mistakes, no disasters?

Sadly, all the people I want to invite are too far away:

One’s in North Carolina. One’s in Canada somewhere. One’s in Australia. One has been to Japan, and won’t tell me where she lives in Canada, which is okay, because she’s seventeen and would think me idiotic.

Why is it that all of my best friends live a million miles away? And the people I /least/ want to see at my birthday /ever/ again live so close? Yes, that means anyone who lives in my town. There’s not a single person here that I’d like to see on my birthday.. except maybe Shining and Sherry. But besides them, I don’t want to see anyone.

Particularly Teatime, though I’m not sure he knows when my birthday is.

Avvie’s being ticked off by the name ‘Avvie’, which I, for some reason, find hilarious. He also doesn’t think it’s a good idea to have a birthday party- he hasn’t had a true one, ever, and doesn’t see the point of celebrating his older-ness. Pointing out the disaster of Last Year, I suppose that I’d have to agree with him. Though boycotting my birthday when I’m seven months away from it seems slightly foolish. I guess I’ll just have to wait out the seven months before whining about it..

I listen to Avvie way too much. If it weren’t for the little inconvenient fact, he’d probably replace Teatime in a trice. Thank the gods for the ICF, because otherwise, we’d have never met, and I wouldn’t be so constantly obsessive.

Hmm.. I’m in the mood to finish my English homework now. The one about random autobiographies. I’ll probably paste it here at the end, so it should be equally painful in the end.

Urrgh.. uploaded my Seto/Anzu ficcy to FF.Net, but it’s been an hour and the stupid thing STILL hasn’t acknowledged its existence.

Come on.. no server is ever THIS slow!

Off to Eng-Homework. Later.

2004-08-26T12:41:00.000-07:00

Today:
Skipped a day between blogging, but then again, nothing eventful *ever* happens in my life.. Today was no exception, except that I'm beginning to think sightings of Teatime are going to grow more common during the year- and certainly I'm not adverse to the fact. I'd like it.. sort of.

Even if Teatime has become a Spenser-Tepesque kind of person.

Although admittedly, Tepe doesn't have the charisma/magnetic forcefield that Teatime possesses, damn-his-eyes.

Found a new and lovely Yu-Gi-Oh fanfiction to read: You, Revisited, by Geniusgirl: The Original, or something of the sort. Sweetly romantic, with the bittersweet taste of angst that has always been my favorite. If Teatime grows to be half that.. detached, and without the slightly nasal note that he seems to have adopted into his voice, a swarm of girls will fall swooning at his feet.

Why is it that all the best guys are fictional?

Working on the unnamed Seto/Anzu pairing fanfic at the moment, while the lighthearted Fanfiction and Classes (debating renaming it; that is a ridiculous name) is nowhere near completed, and is boring me. I need to get started on a chapter-like fanfic..!

Grr.

Haven't worked on any of my novels in days- will have to work overtime on the weekend if I want to get anything done. Extending the page margins and small-squaring the size of the fonts should work- when I near 100 pages, I'll know that I'm doing well.

Still working on getting the stupid comment to load. Honestly, some days I think that I'd really be better off with Xangaing.

But if I went back to my xanga, they'd figure out who Teatime was, because I can't bring myself to delete the entries therein. Or move them, for that matter.

Homework load is currently quite light, but it feels ominous- like the quiet before the storm.

Oh the ironies of life-- Cory was working with me on a Bio project (timeline, stupid thing), and left his pencil back in the class. I laughed at him for a while in ECA- what doich forgets their pencil?

It was only after classes ended that I realized that I'd forgotten my Bio book in the classroom.

Not having any classes with Betty so far, which is sad- neither do I have anything except Lunch with Judy. And I haven't seen Kelly in a while..

GAH.

Dull day, in short. But stressful as hell.

08.24.04

Today was my first day in the new grade.
It feels exactly like last year, except with more pressure. I’m just as alone as before, just as ignored as before (see Lunch), just as.. obsessed with Teatime as before.
What’s the point of moving on a grade if everything here is absolutely redundant?

Homeroom: Spent the majority of my time wallowing in confusion down in C1, where my homeroom was supposed to be.. but apparently was not. So I got moved a few floors upward- less confusing, but more hazardous a path tomorrow—bah. Still- having Mr. Davis as homeroom shouldn’t be too confusing.. I think.

First Period- Spanish: Mind was entirely occupied by the fact that I knew virtually no one in there, except Megan. Also was dubbed “Tonya”, because my usual “Sofia” was taken. Bah.

Between-First-and-Second: Saw Teatime. Squeak. Squeal.
..I’m supposed to be off him, aren’t I?
-scratches Teatime out-
(Actually, I think that I might’ve looked kind of weird- huge smile replaced by a dubious frown.)

Second Period: AP History- Mr Little seemed a lot better than Affatato, the stupid overgrown couch potato that he is.. The class itself seems like it’ll be fairly tough, but I can live with it. No friends in this class either, although I did meet (read: saw) Fan-whoever. So that’s who the person from Betty’s profile was about, so long past..

Third Period: Hon English- Saw Annie in my class; about ready to latch onto any familiar face at that point, so shouted and waved. (And smiled, I think.) Was entirely ignored—is Annie deaf, or does she just not like me?
I’d rather think the latter.
My poster looked entirely pathetic compared to the majority of others.. ughk.

Lunch: Glanced around like a mad twit hoping for someone to sit with- found Annie and sat with her, only to have everyone run off and go squealing because their other friend also had A lunch. Stood around watching them for a few moments like an idiot before running back to lunch- which is, at least, something I can understand.

Between-lunch-and-fourth: Ran up the stairs to the D-wing, only to get confused as to where D204 was. (No, I can’t count. BAH. My mind is scattered on beginning-days.) Glanced around looking for a familiar face, and saw Cory, whom I humbly followed to Bio.
It was only then that I realized that he was in my Bio class. Doi.

Fourth Period: Bio- Spent first few minutes of period helplessly stifling laughter over Cory, who is a combination of ridiculous, stupidly funny, and a hypocrite for liking McCaffrey. (Yes, I’m defensive over my favorite author—can you tell? But I will swear that he loathed Moreta.
..Ahem. Not that I.. er.. liked it any better.. >>; )
Was fairly glad that his seat was assigned elsewhere- though now I’m sitting next to an idiot who chews gum. Just like last Bio.. gah. At least there’s another girl at the table, so that he can bother her, as opposed to me.

Fifth Period: Was accused of stalking Cory. It was funny.. for the first few seconds. Anyway.. was treated to amusing twenty minutes where the teachers said nothing, but communicated silently, through body language and gestures. Was then treated to another twenty minutes of watching previous ad campaigns, and wondering whether will have to be so embarrassed on camera.
Hoping not. Blecht. Hate cameras.

And there’s a summary of my day.

2004-08-18T11:15:00.000-07:00

Beh.. After reading a rather stupid little interview of Eric Stuart, I think I've caught another anime-obsession: Seto Kaiba. Reading fanfics that're hardly worth my time (Acey's darkly funny Pokemon Master is, of course, the exception) have suddenly settled into my lifestyle again. Though admittedly this one is literate, and conveys the slightest spirit of Kaiba.

Meh.. I just wish that Yu-Gi-Oh weren't quite so centered on gaming and duels.

School in a week..!

And my passport not yet ready. "They" say I might be late for school. But then again, "they" are bugging the heck out of me. Excerpt from diary entry a few days back:

Mom called today. As usual, the conversation was unpleasant, filled with long silences that ranged themselves within the conversation at erratic patterns, but thankfully brief. Whenever she raised a question/comment, I responded with suitable (admirable?) docility, mechanicality, and bland monotony. All in all, a rather magnificent effortation, I feel. Twice, she told me that she loved me; Mum has always been prone to slightly effusive declarations of affection. The second time was near the end of our conversation, and I felt my eyes fill with tears, lips trembling with an unvoiced sob. Thankfully, my voice remained normal enough for me to escape, untouched. I am unsure whether she comes still on Saturday (Hindsight note: She didn't. Thank God.) and fervently pray to the negative. She doesn't understand about the tears, and will no doubt mistake them for emotion. She doesn't know that contact with her has rendered such tears utterly obsolete; now employed only as an outlet for otherwise untenable passions and a bland habit.
After her call, I spent several minutes (five or ten) huddled beneath my blanket, my sobs so muffled that they became little more than loud exhalations of breath. And if you had asked me for what I was crying, I could not have said, because I knew not myself. (And I still don't.) I don't mourn for the lack that exists between us, the chasm that, even in our most joyful moments, exists vividly. That has been entrenched for years, and regardless of her thoughts, it will never be filled. Afterall, how can I trust someone who doesn't trust me? And how can I love someone who's willing to put her own care before mine?
I realize this sounds selfish. I realize that this is foolishness. But if you'd met my father, then my mother, you would understand that Dad holds nothing but the best for me in mind. (However irritating he grows while he does so; the sighs of "Oh, what am I going to do with you to make you wake up to the real world.." tend to get on my nerves.) You would understand that, though I'm little more than a careless brat, he loves me most and foremost. My sister belongs with my mother, and her foremost loyalties rest with her. I am all he has of his careworn youth and fatherhood. While Mum, on the other hand, would be perfectly content to be rid of me, so that her turbulent life might resume a more well-charted course upon the seas of fate.
Ah. That last affirmation stings. It is one thing to loathe and reject someone, and quite another to have these emotions reciprocated.
Daddy, at least, understands somewhat. He asked me (rather coolly) whether I was all right when I finally went to replace the phone downstairs. But even he doesn't catch the fact that I don't believe I truly love anyone; that the love I feel even for Dad himself is a tenuous emotion, laced with fear and thereby, respect.
And for fear of disappointing him (again), I hope he never finds out.
Too much emotion for tonight, too much laced with tears and silliness. Goodnight.

2004-07-26T08:21:00.000-07:00

Read a bunch of strangers' blogs today, and came to the realization that all of them have a single thing in common; none of them complain very much. It's all a happy-dearest-joy diary-ing. Now, since I rather doubt their lives are so wondrous and replete with joy that they have nothing to complain of, I can only come to the other conclusion.

Dad's right and I am a miserable grumbler with no interest in life except for herself.

Nothing like waking up in the morning and coming to the realization that you're the most foul person you've ever met. Joy to the world. Let's all have a pity party now.

And I can't even bother with being nice and pretending to myself that I'm more than what I am; the only reason I'm ever nice to people is to get a warm fuzzy feeling (bahooey) and so I can defend myself against the omnipresence of my father, who is simply far too zealous in getting me to "grow up".

I am replete with all that is so very me, so there is no room for God. Thank some deity for that.

It's what I used to think, anyway, but nowadays I think I'd take some comfort in religion, in the Smug-Evilness of confidence that I'll go to heaven, that my every good move is building up to some overall cause.. But then again, I used to admire the Christians-- slightly, mind-- for their goodness, and I don't anymore. There's some falseness in being nice because someone told you so; rather like my obeying my Dad in everything, yet doing nothing more to extend it. They do it partially because the Bible told them so, partially because they'll go to Heaven if they do so, and only then do they think that they themselves might want to. So then, I suppose, the atheists possess a degree of goodness that Christians-- with their ulterior motive-- will never attain.

I, unfortunately, do not rank among those atheists. It is not sad, because I've always known that I'm not perfect-- not even close-- I'm not kind, generous, or particularly clever. But it does rankle slightly against the perfectionist nature that my parents attempted to mold me into.

And it's rather sad to see how far I've fallen from the mold.

No, you pun-people; not the fuzzy kind of mold that grows on cheese.

I'm reading Lasher by Anne Rice today; perhaps one of the reasons I grow contemplative, musing.. (I.e. Boring.) I do love her books, but the main problem is the fact that I have a very strange tendency to sympathize with the villain. It's not on purpose, but it's the sheer envy of the goodness of the protagonists combined with a vague understanding of how the antagonist's mind works.

I suppose I should be glad I never became a Christian; I would have utterly failed at that as well.

Listening to Matchbox 20 again- I don't care if I developped the tendency from Shining, it's mine now. Mine.

MINE.

I feel so very foolish and young, though Dad tells me I am old, almost too old to influence and change the path that I walk on.

I hate him. But whenever I get published, my first book will be dedicated to him.

Isn't that sad? The only person I really ever loathed, and I'm going to dedicate my first book to him. Because true loathing only first derives from love, or some emotion of affection, and he holds my loyalty and affection like no one else ever will. Despite the fact that I'm living in the United States, Dad stands first in my loyalties, primary in my idolatry, and foremost in my respect. He is also, of course, the person I've ever loathed most (except for Mum.. but that's rather different. Because contempt is there for my mum too*).

It also explains something about Teatime; why I have to hate him even as I grow pleased at the mere mention of him- pleased and embarrassed. But if you don't understand it (and you will, because you're me, and I'm the only person who ever visits this blog), then I won't explain it to you.

* The thing about my mum is rather complex. She used to be someone I loved, adored, and laughed with- young and old, friend and mother. Now the place that was replete with those emotions is devoid of such joy; and contempt remains. She's just a weak shell that will be cast aside once I get enough money to hold my own Internet connection; she's made it so that the Internet is the only connection that binds us, and it is a fragile correlation. My sister and I used to jest about it; when our parents grew old, she would care for Mum, and I would care for Dad. (She always wanted Dad too, of course; greedy child that she was.) But some part of it was played in seriousness; I've always been my father's child, and my sister was always my mother's. And once I attain adulthood, that will be played on the stage of life, to a widely scattered, sparse audience.

2004-07-25T09:41:00.000-07:00

Got online today to the realization that Cory blocked me. And has been blocking me since before the summer.

o_0

I don't even want to know why. It's nice enough to know that I'm worth being blocked- I was beginning to think I was worthless. I suppose I should be glad that no one reads this, else I'd sound a trifle ridiculous. More than a trifle, actually, but nevertheless..

Onto other matters! I'm re-reading Lunatic Cafe, for anyone who's interested (mainly me, I suppose..), and it's just as brilliant the millionth time 'round as the first. It's not my usual fantasy/sci-fi blend, but I love it all the same. Laurell K. Hamilton is sheer genius.

Well, at least before Cerulean Sins was published. (If anyone's looking for a book to read on the weekend, stay away from Cerulean Sins. It can get you un-addicted to the Anita Blake series in a swift millisecond if you haven't read all the other books first. Rather heavy on the sex and the blood, and a little too light on the usual intricate plot that comes with the Anita Blake series.

The Box novel isn't coming out very well; I'm having trouble getting it started, and the demon-girl's named Victoria (No Vicky, no Tori, no Vic. Just Victoria. Imagine a six-year-old saying that.) But then again, the writing's okay. I'm not sure if I can get it finished, let alone published, but since it's almost like a series of little interrelated short stories, I'm hoping that it'll finally work.

Really excited about this little project; I haven't dreamed in years about getting published, and I haven't written anything publishable in a year. It's almost.. a newer, vibrant excitement. And it almost makes up for the bulliness of my dad, who told me that I was an utterly selfish individual with nothing of good in her yesterday.

Thanks, Dad. At least now I know where your affections lie.

I'm putting off reading Frankenstein in favor of Lunatic Cafe, with some sneakings of Dragonflight (again), simply because, although it made a no doubt wondrous movie, Frankenstein is the dullest book I've ever had the misfortune to come across. Even Lord of the Rings was better than this.

Shining's agonizing over a certain *ahem* to me again. And I'm agonizing to her about another *ahem*. It's really rather ironic; rather like giving up something for Lent and then consuming it every day. Very, very stupid.

And it's stranger that I've just realized I've made myself into a little Shining mimicker- she falls for MB20, and so do I. Jason Mraz, John Mayer.. Gone with the Wind.. Etc.

I should, I suppose, be rather glad that I'm not falling for any of her soft drinks and toothpastes and crayon brands. (Sprite forever, and that weird chinese brand of toothpaste is best, not to mention the fact that I prefer pencils to crayons.)

And that's all of note today..

2004-07-23T19:07:00.000-07:00

Wow.. so after a few months of total abandonment (so I exaggerate; one month and a half), I come back to this desolate place, where no one's eyes save mine settle upon the pages, scan the words, and sigh about the immaturity of a certain dark-haired asian.

I should say obese, actually; there are plenty of dark-haired asians. (The two terms are practically synonymous, if not entirely so.) And the term dark-haired tends to lend a certain mystery to whichever subject follows after it. Mysterious I am -not-. Obese, on the other hand, gives a full air of.. well.. mundanity. And I am beyond mundane.

So what's been accomplished? Well.. Dad's been lecturing me more and more often, and making his preferences for his youngest daughter thoroughly obvious; perhaps because she saves her sweetened jibes for me, and I, when I jibe, don't bother to be subtle about it. (My sister may employ subtlety with her jabs, but she has no skill at unveiling the sardonicisms of others. As though others wouldn't dare!) Though I haven't exactly been helping with the situation; the little sister is an unbearably precocious child. If she eclipses me, my last security is deleted, obliterated..

Speaking of deleted, we have a computer virus on our system, if not several virii. Dad blames me, and I can hardly blame him-- after all, we all know who spends five hours a day on the bloody Internet, if not more.

Also, I've given up Teatime, at long last.. It was hopeless anyway, though now that a certain trait's been unveiled, Tia's saying that she'd murder for someone of his kind. I can't blame her- guys of Teatime's kidney are rare, and to be a treasured sight. Though he's hardly literate enough for roleplay, nevertheless.. I do wish I hadn't given up on him now.

Tia's also mentioning an irony as we peruse his profile. No, Tia, I rather doubt it'll happen. I don't care about Jamie, Teatime's different.

What else? I haven't done my homework.. and.. oh yes!

I was reading Cory's blog today, and I think Betty fumed a bit when I went into fits of laughter about all the parts that involved her. Especially the bit where he said he wanted to drop flowers by her door, leaving them anonymously. I rather doubt it'd be anonymous; after all, who ELSE would leave flowers for Bettileth? And posting his thoughts on the Internet leaves it rather.. erm. Un-anonymous?

Cory.. if you ever read this, I just want you to know that you're an Anne-McCaffrey-poseur with a capital U. You Moreta-loather.

Or was that Sherry?

Gah, I'm losing my mind..

Anyway, I can't remember Sherry's blog address anymore! Tragedy that it is..

Probably a good time to get off, though I want to fill out one of those survey things. I've been meaning to do it for some time, and keep forgetting, probably because no one ever sends me any.

Probably because I'm such an uncompanionable creature who talks to her friends solely through messenger service.

Yeah, that must be it.

Goodnight, world..

Books that Must be Read:
The diary of anyone I know
Hat Full of Sky, Terry Pratchett
My diary from back in eighth grade and I started obsessing over Teatime.

2004-06-09T07:44:00.000-07:00

Interesting thing of the day: My dad keeps telling me that I'm the cleverest person in the family, and that I have so much life and potential ahead of me. That if I put my mind to it, I could trounce anyone I wanted to in my studies.

Then he goes on and criticizes every move I make. Up to and including telling me exactly how to wash my sandals. They're not even straw; I could dump them in a waterfall and they'd come out looking no worse for the wear; possibly even better.

Er? Mixed messages, Daddy dearest..

Haven't seen Teatime in a thousand years, and I want to. Wah.

Just posted at Annie's tagboard, telling her about my dear friendly local stalkers. Eh, well, Jess wanted a look at *censored* and Rae wanted to see *censored II*. Can I help it if they're in her pictures?

Wait. I'm not too sure about *censored*, but I think *censored II* gets a distant photo.

Hurry up and put your pictures back up!

Went off and got a good look at Lily's blog; she's so Christian these days it almost makes me twitch. She's like Annie the week after her baptism, except she goes on about it twenty-four/seven. Eesh. It almost scares me, but then again, anything about Lily that didn't scare me stopped coming into my head a while ago, or she just got rid of it. At the moment, I'm recalling the days when I was a Lily-poser/Lily-wannabe with embarrassment. If I'd gone down that road.. I'd be where she is right now.

Scary.

When/if I finally get a religion, I want it to be something palpable; something I can feel and touch before I believe. It's always struck me as odd how total pragmatists can believe in Christianity, which is like buying the product before even finding out what it's like- something they'd never do in real life. The God of their religion has always seemed highly unappealing to me; a jealous creature who thrives on attention, and creatures more of us for the sake of worshipping Him. A chauvenist deity whom the women revere even though, if His chronicles are true, He was the one who gave them birth pangs, etc. A Him- most of all, if I ever get a religion, I want that god to transcend gender issues. Wiccanism, while it fed my desires to believe that women are naturally superior to men, wasn't exactly equal, either. There's the Goddess, and then there's her Horned Consort, but he always feels so superficial to me, an addition made to please the men, and no more than that. He is lover and son to the Goddess in her three-fold form, but sons can be done without; as can lovers.

So why do people believe in God? Perhaps it's because he brings comfort, safety, a feeling of pressure-lack. Perhaps it's just being brought up in that tradition. I don't pretend to have the answers, but I will admit that I want them. And I can summarize the entirety of that paragraph: I want that God to be familiar, while distant. I want them to be transcendental, while personal. I want the term God in their religion, not to conjure up the image of some old GUY who created the world, but a loving Parent without gender, who encompasses both Mother and Father and Savior. I want them to be without jealousy, without emotion, while caring for welfare and pride and each fallen sparrow. God sees the fallen sparrows, but he lets their bodies waste away, and thinks that because their souls sit at his right hand, it's all good. It's isn't.

This sounds so uneducated, so stupid. I think I need to re-read the Bible again.

Betty has a blog! Shock, shock. So far, it's all about Dawn soapyness and buying books. Ehhh.. Figures that she'd write about the less interesting stuff and completely starve me of her POV. But I've promised myself that I wouldn't write about it until she did, though I'm practically starving here.. I've always been a bit of a nosy creature and a sucker for drama- and drama this is, for all that she treats it normally. The whole B+C thing was like a pillar.. and without it, I wouldn't have laughed so hard at Lauren Gentene's stupid time when she drew lovey notes on Cory's planner.

I wonder if Cory's going to refute his Asian-wannabe after this?

I know, it sounds callous, but you didn't have to come here; I'm trying to keep my opinions as undilutedly me as possible. This isn't just a blog; it's a diary. The only things I don't keep here are Teatime and my opinions about Shining. (Sorry, Shining!)

Wow, school is out. It's been about a week since that (well, two days and it'll be a week, okay?) happened and I'm still in shock. It's like one morning I'll wake up and be driven to school again.. I guess it takes a while to sink in.

Heard a song with a line that went "I'm just your average everyday sane psycho." I need to track down the rest of that song, burn it onto a CD, and paste the lyrics on my bedroom wall. That is me.

2004-06-02T12:54:00.000-07:00

How many times must I tell someone to go to Hell before they finally listen to me? Apparently just twice won't cut the mustard; and I'm starting to think that Stephanie's right. At the end of the year, I'm going to go ballistic, haul him off and punch him.

Spencer Tepe, if you're out there reading this right now, listen to me. You are an utter, total brainfucked bastard.

And I've just realized that I don't even given a damn about whether I break my fingers or not when I do so.

Hmn. Maybe if I get the same lunch period as him next year, I'll just dump ketchup on him. So much easier than getting myself shattered into little bits, and people will notice ketchup all day. It's funny, but people never notice bruises, though they'll notice ketchup stains beneath the lapels of your shirt.

I've just realized that I must have spent over twenty dollars on candy this year. Perhaps even fifty, if I count the out-of-school candy. Erk.. I feel like I've been binging, minus the throwing up.

Saw Teatime again; he didn't look happy. But then again, he never does anymore. I want to see him smile! He looks infinitely worse that way, and then maybe I'll come to my senses.

Har. Har. Har.

I'd rant about him more, but since I'm debating about coming into the light with this blog, I don't think it'd be the most brilliant idea. Except to mention that it's been over a year since I started liking him. Am definitely more constant than the following: Annie, Lily, Judy, Sherry.. maybe Shining. Not sure.

This is not good. Must strive to become more fickle.

Still haven't reconciled with the Bettilethness. Am currently wavering between whether this is a good thing or not. On the plus side, I don't have to listen to her whinge all the time when things don't go her way, and I don't have to be jealous whenever something does. And it's one less person to feel like killing whenever I see her. (Actually, it's one more, so I guess that's on the minus side.) On the other hand, that's one less friend, one less person to talk to. Even though we have nothing in common, it's nice to know that someone will listen to you, and now, no one will.. :(

Spent a few minutes today talking to Vanessa-from-my-gym-class, who's been to a psychologist and anger management courses. She doesn't think that just because you tried to beat your mum to death with a pillow makes a good excuse for being forced to go to anger management courses, and I agree. Having /beat/ your mum to death with a pillow, but if you weren't really trying, well. There's no use in /that/.

Though she wants to have me sent down to talk to him. She thinks he's really cool because he keeps telling her gay jokes (aka jokes about gays, not stupid jokes. There's a difference, people!) because she's hetero.

Thanks, Vanessa. I'm heterosexual too, but right now I think I want to avoid as many psychs as possible. Having someone pickle my brain doesn't appeal to me, especially since am not famous yet.

Speaking of gym, some blonde git named Ashley announced in the lockerroom after gym today that she was going to start a foodfight. Kelly and I spent the entirety of the lunch starting up at loud noises and glancing around furtively to see whether pudding was going to splatter on us on the last lunch of the school year, but no cigar.

Rather sad, if you really think about it.

Saw Conor talking to the same girl that he always does right after lunch at his locker. Bwahah.. am wondering what Annie would make of it. Also wondering if I should go public with this blog and let her know.

Ha.. like she'd care.

Then again, going public with this blog would be infinitely nicer than staying private. Though will have to do some censoring.

And to think that Betty (before argument) thought that ***** liked ****** *******! V. amusing; haven't even seen them together, thereby want to.

Was listening to Concrete Angel for the fifth time since yesterday, and have cried at four of the seeings. It's such a sad music video! Though one of my acquaintance claims that Britney Spears' Everytime is far better than that. Also found a fairly good artist who sounds like Sugar from YTV when she sings called M2M. Very cute/sad as well.

Did I mention that I think that Clay Aiken looks like a demented smiling porcupine in his music video "The Way"? He's not a bad singer, but he looks porcine!

Am absolutely agreeing with Annie; Tom Cruise in his younger movies IS hot. Though she says that his Scottish burr in "Far and Away" is annoying. Hmm..

Currently being left alone by Andrew Browning. V. good.

2004-05-25T14:04:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I blogged, then. I just read Bonnie's diary, a review of what was long past, and found myself laughing, shaking uncontrollably at her words, and just barely recovered now. Perhaps she truly always speaks this way, but I don't, not always, for fear of being laughed at by Sherry, who had discovered this place, and laughed at me about it. I write depressively too, at points, when I feel like being touchingly poignant, and believe myself to be an incorruptable artiste, with impeccable taste in words. More often, I find myself to be someone I wouldn't want to touch with a ten-foot-pole, someone who's gone down the most ridiculous paths in life, and writhes under the gaze of a million memories at night, memories of foolish things I've done, that will never let themselves remain forgotten.

So many things can happen in the space of a mere month (which was precisely how long I haven't blogged for, interestingly; discounting two sole days, which must stand on their own), so much can change, yet I cannot put it down to the computer, let the machine turn it into so many useless numbers and symbols that would mean nothing to me. It would be like shattering a tear, dissecting it into separate pieces so tiny that they mean nothing, not even to the most enterprising of poets. It's better to just leave some things alone, watch them writhe, twist, and grow under your gaze, into things that you turn away from, wishing that you'd never watched in the first place, for you know that it would be partially your fault that they exist in the first place. And, I suddenly realize that I'm not making any sense, so, with much dignity and secrecy, I turn away from the subject.

Ah, so you'd be wondering about the title. Or maybe you'd be scrambling to find your way out of this mad-brained place, full of hype and type. I have no idea why I typed that, only that it somehow seemed to suit the depression of the day. Perhaps I'm only being a sulky brained child, butI found myself angry, with far too much excess energy to burn. Some people call hurting yourself deliberately self-mutilation, but mutilation indicates a disfigurement. Does attempting to walk through walls count? I might have gone mad, and I might not, but I find myself moved to do the strangest of things. In Medieval times, I would have been 'possessed by the Devil', but now I'm simply crazy. It seems that medieval times were better equipped to handle such things than we are ready to now.

I came across an old blog entry of mine from a long while past, which contained this:

Llwyedd's Twelve Commandments to Live By:

1) Thou shalt be terrifically evil.
2) Thou shalt Glare. A lot. But only at malevolent beings, meaning anything remotely human.
3) Thou shalt go everywhere with a book, exception nowhere.
4) Thou shalt read thy book, but never share it. Thy book is thy book, not Llwyedd's book.
5) Thou shalt wield thy book, and not just in a verbal way.
6) Thou shalt pick verbal fights with any Christians in sight by challenging their religion. And if possible, thou shalt win those fights.
7) Thou shalt pretend to practice voodoo, and steal people's hair by pulling it out.
8) Thou shalt stalk people. Thou shalt stalk everyone.
9) Thou wilt shun the sun.
10) Thou wilt be a prestigiously published author.
11) Thou shalt hate everyone.
12) Thou shalt wield a sharp wit. (And if a sharp wit isn't available, just use any caustic object.)

This doesn't sound like me at all, not the me that I would willingly recognize. Then again, I just change to please others, and I really have no soul of my own. That sounds like me too. But have I changed so much in the space of a year? Surely not, and yet I remember someone else that I wanted to be.. once. I'm no longer who I wanted to be, my goals have changed, gotten lower. Is this the dream disillusioned, or merely who I've always been, unveiled?

I want Teatime like I want my dreams; passively, with a certainty that I'd never know what to do with it all if my dreams ever came true. I reach for the unattainable, comfortable in the certainty that I will never gain those dreams, and therefore never have in my hands what I cannot work with. I can dream of the inevitable, because that is all that will reach me, will be all that I will ever attain without working. I cannot work because I cannot bring myself to sacrifice like others do- have.

About Teatime.. I'd recently been debating giving him up (the way that a chainsmoker might decide to give up cigarettes, an obsessive teenage girl cutting herself, an alcoholic his fine wines and beers), but realized at last that I could not, for all the wishes in the world, leave him behind in memories. It might have been the fact that I'd really looked at him- for once!- and got the shock of my life when I saw him. It's easy to see him in passing, but to really see him.. it was rather strange, really. It's like Scarlett with Ashley; I'd built up this image of him inside my mind, and grew so used to seeing it that when I was confronted with the reality, I didn't know what to do with it. At least I've never babbled too much about him to the Masonites; I'm not sure what their reaction would be if I suddenly changed tactics re: Teatime, but

1) They don't give a damn about me
2) They don't give a damn about Teatime
3) They're too busy with their own damn love lifes to listen to my updates.

Oh yes, and Betty's being a stupid nigglehead today. The below exerpt from my AIM profile explains all.

Betty=Stupid bint who needs to mind her own business.

Betty: so n e way, is ur grade in affy lower than every1 else's or something?
Me: Betty.. *smiles sweetly* In the words of my favorite book character, mind your own fucking beeswax.
Betty: omg.. you always get so defensive when your grade is lower than everyone else's.
Me: *snarls visibly* Shut up and mind your own godsdamned business!
Betty: Ooh.. snarling. I'm so scared.

(Above conversation: approximated.)

I always told her that if she ever had enemies, or people who wanted to kill her, I'd be first in line. I'd just never thought that the time to want to kill her would come again so soon..

UPDATES: Stats show that Betty has more friends than me. Therefore, she will now be getting sympathy from said friends, who may well scorn me. Aargh.

But then, I recently received an IM from Kara..

maroon5411: i will give you sympathy about the betty thing... i love you! lol
maroon5411: and i will scorn her lol

Thank you, Kara. I love you too. :)

[/end entry]

2004-05-06T15:30:00.000-07:00

Deep Thought(s) of the Day:

1) I haven't been blogging enough.
2) Therefore I need to blog more.
3) Everyone has someone to talk to, their best friend(s), their boyfriend(s), their girlfriend(s).. someone. ANYONE.

So how come I don't have anyone except on the internet?

No wonder I'm dependent on it.
4) This entry is way too short.
5) Who gives a damn? Like anyone reads this.

EDIT: Goddamn freaking Angelfire. It went on the fritz.

2004-04-23T11:43:00.000-07:00

Humerous moment of the day: Betty was going on about Conor, and finally wound into her conclusion, saying "Oh my God, if he starts stalking me again.." (Reference to the time in ECA when she moved over a seat to hear a speech better and he moved with her, making him right next to her. According to sources, she chewed him out for it.)

It was at that point that Conor walked up.
[end:humor]

She still doesn't believe me about her stupid theory that I'm obsessed with him. After all that we've been through together--

Okay, scratch that bit.

But it does sting somewhat, that she should distrust me.. and should think that I have the bad taste (no offense to the sardonic person who talks to her every minute that Spanish is declared over) to swoon over him. (I have Teatime to think about, gods!) Though I admit that I mention him more than I should; perhaps because she talks to him so much. (*stare*) He and Annie, mainly; an irony, as neither play a gigantic part in the reality of my life. And that Shining, whom I have decided will be this month's stalk-- through various factors, none of which make sense-- should figure so little in my blog at all.

Not to mention the fact that I haven't bawled Sherry out yet for allowing Betty access to my blog. I should have mentioned the fact that it was ideally meant to be a private blog. Already I am utterly incapable of telling whether it is my own thoughts that I write, or the thoughts of another person; one that I would have others believe me to be. On one side, I'd like to conclude that I am, insofar as I know, not so complex that I would develop so great a paranoia-- but on the other hand, my ego insists that I am every inch as complex as the most developed of adults; perhaps even more so, if it can get me to believe it. I am multilayered and intricate-- though none so interesting as others.

Since little occurred today-- and little is bound to occur, as all the Christians are going to YG, abandoning me to an evening where there is little to be done-- I have decided to make a character persona for myself-- and who knows? I might actually roleplay with it-- my daily life, that is.

2004-04-22T13:34:00.000-07:00

During Spanish today, I happened to find out that Betty has been reading my blog since yesterday-- Sherry came on during that ill-fated piano lesson and apparently they were chatting, which led to Betty's reading Sherry's entry and happening upon my blog, nested like a diamond amongst the wastelands of aridly sarcastic words that have always been Sherry's style-- and unfortunately for my archives, has gone through them as well, rifling through all of them and reading through them relentlessly. The woman's obviously gone mad, to be thusly interested in my life; but then, she's always been possessed of relentless spirit.. and an infinite resource with which to be bored.

Unfortunately, she seems to have drawn the conclusion from my blog that I'm obsessing far too much via an issue about Conor that seems to exist solely with my mind, and rest solely with me-- both things that I revile beyond all thoughts. And she also seems to believe something else that, now that the blog has become public, is far too ridiculous to be posted-- I do have bandwidth space to think about, after all; despite the fact that I possess no bandwidth of my own to worry about as of yet. Though I assume that my present readers-- numbering three, as far as I know-- will draw the obvious conclusion of Betty's fallacious mistake from my insinuations.

Betty, I know you're out there. You need to go have a nice chat with Shining sometime; I think she occasionally suffers from that self-same delusion as well. Just don't go plotting against me-- that I simply could not take in my presently paranoid frame of mind.

My theory luxuriates in the information that is currently being fed to it, and is sprouting diminutive viridian leaves to boot-- I do think that it must be correct after all. Will have to discuss it with Sherry later, as long as I can extract a secrecy promise out of her firstly; Sherian does have a small tendency, as I recall, to spread words that are unwanted but had not a promise to bind her.

And I am returning to the at-odds state that I seem to be bound to for all eternity with Annie, as exemplified in the little vignette I posted to her.

Danse pour moi, ma petite marionette,
Pour tout mes annees, je vous dit que je regrette
Tu n’as pas de reves ; je peux voir rien dans tes yeux,
Tu n’as rien ; seulement un ridicule petit Dieu.

Life is boring-- I hate it and wish I had the courage to end it. People speak all the time of the cowards who could not go on with their lives, and so ended it, in a fashion best befitting one who was so foolish and cowardly-- one has already succumbed to the desire to die this year, someone who transferred but in the autumn-- and I envy them their strength of will that permits them to go on in such fashion. I know that I myself would doubt myself to the end of the dangling rope, and I wouldn't have the courage to fit it to my neck because of my atheism.

And sometimes I think that it is my certainty that there is nothing save oblivion at the end of my life that keeps me from dangling at the end of the rope, with slit wrists that bleed still as they tear me down from the little park I've selected in order to kill myself. If I were Christian, and in no doubt whatsoever that there was a merciful God who would take pity upon my plight-- why, you'd find no more than a second gone that I should be dead, leaving naught but a corpse in my wake..

You animated me with your dreams
Alive with your touch, I could not wish
For anything more than this blank check
This endless eternity, a wilderness untold
And illusion roams; all is not what it seems.

Can’t remember the last time you smiled
At me in the crowd, dazzling with light
And cast illumination over me as well
Can’t recall the last words you said
Before the world went away, become wordless and wild.

Always searching for this reassurance; what
Is this feeling, needing appreciation, to be called?
Doglike, loving, what about the crimes in the past
They matter naught now that you are mine, this
False present, as the doors ahead, shadowed swinging shut.

Your prototype, does it matter more when
This better version; a second me in the mirror
Can’t you see it in her smile, that lying embrace (can’t you tell the feelings revealed in her face?)
Myself reborn, a second me, but stronger, crueler
All the things that I could never be, then.

So break me gently, snapped like a brittle thread
These trembling fingers, your first prototype
Oh yes, you’ve forgotten, but the memories still linger
In me; break me gently, shatter me well
With litter behind, and oblivion ahead.

After my piano lesson, Mum-- who is still not on speaking terms with me, in case you're wondering (she tried to smash the computer.. last Sunday? Or the Sunday before that?)-- took me away for a talk, and told me, in a cold, matter-of-fact fashion that my teacher had felt that I had been very rude during the piano lesson, and emphasized that it was the fact that I didn't care which piece I chose for that stupid plus class next week that was the source of that feeling. I continued to emphasize that I frankly didn't give a damn-- not my exact phrasing at the time-- whether I played to Hell or High Heaven next week, and she told me that my teacher had said that she'd not continue teaching me if I persisted in this behavior-- no doubt seeking to extract a promise that I wouldn't do it again, or if I did, so that she wouldn't have to continue my piano lessons. I shrugged and gave a neutral reply, rushing into the computer room to burst into tears for no reason whatsoever.

I have the vague feeling that it had to do with being so foolish as to think that my life in Canada had been miserable-- being threatened with lack of Internet on every course, ignored and called annoying, pressed towards a religion to which I have no interest, receiving grades that are a good deal lower than my-- and everyone else's-- expectations, and now this. I don't need this.

I don't.

2004-04-21T12:46:00.000-07:00

This Christian thing is getting to be far too much out of control, even though I must rather guiltily admit that I'm enjoying it in a way-- it's giving me a chance to actually talk to Annie and Conor, rather than spout some stupid things about whether we have homework in this or that class (to Conor) or throw newly learned insults (at Annie). But it's already come to an end with Annie-- after this, our religious-based conversations will merely become a rather more subtle way to throw insults at each other-- or perhaps all the insults have been strictly one way. Everything's come to a head in but a single conversation, as I finally realized the query I wanted to put to all Christians. Except for Lily, perhaps, because she makes me feel quite often like an idiot; possibly it's the way Mum threw us together for that one summer, and I admired her almost as much as I admired Fi later on..

MoroseHarpy: why does your God require your belief?
annsparkles333: Because God made us
annsparkles333: so that we could worship him
MoroseHarpy: ..
MoroseHarpy: so you're saying that the entirety of our purpose is to worship someone while some of us go off and doubt his very existance?
annsparkles333: yea
annsparkles333: we're on earth
annsparkles333: to 1. worship him
annsparkles333: 2. have fun

It's abysmally incomprehensible, the way that they can all follow blindly in a religion whose tenets don't make any sense and contradict each other the way that Annie claims Darwin's principles do-- a slight worry laid completely to rest, thankfully by Mrs. Lehman, with prehistoric aid from the thankfully very-much-solid dinosaurs, a connection between the birds and the lizards. But at least this much I know: it's very probable that I won't be discussing religion with Annie much more, if she believes her God to be this shallow-- to have created an entire population to wage wars with one another simply to worship him.

I cannot believe in a God that would create a world, seem to guard it benevolently, then fade away as the years passed and his Children grew older and proved to be more hardened, recklessly violent, than he had originally thought them. Perhaps the reason that worship originated is that he grew bored with our antics, our endless violence, and those few wise in the ancient times sought to hold his attention by venerating him with every inch possible-- and perhaps eventually this tactic, too, failed, allowing him space to leave. But now, the prayers echo within the empty hollow that was once filled by that divinity, useless to him, and to ourselves..

Isn't it amusing how the majority of humanity, when in trouble or endangered, always seeks the aid of another in order to assure themselves of their victory? Even those martyrs, those saints, they called for the Lord to aid them in their distress. And the Lord aided them thusly-- so simple it must have been, in the days when God responded easily to the calls of man! And now they echo unaided, so that the Christians are forced to make some excuse for the inactivity of their God.

"He gave Man free will, so that he could but shake his head at their foolishnesses, but could not aid."

But Humanity itself is destroying the world that their God has given them-- does it matter nothing to him as his finest creation wastes away to nothing more than a hollow shell, a shadow of its formerly resplendent self?

"You cannot apply to all the times that God has not responded in order to disprove his existance!"

Yes I damn well can. I don't think much of the Father that cares nothing for his children. Shall ask Conor for his response when he gets on- he seemed relatively amenable in Spanish today; at least, as much as he usually is. (Asked me if he looked like a vampire; I told him yes. Why not?) Spent a pleasant five minutes simply watching he and Betty chat-- it's not so much the conversation that interests me as the fact that he tends to bounce up and down on his toes as he speaks to her. Almost a laughable habit, and yet, I have my theories.. particularly since Sherry doesn't seem to possess a wonderful opinion of him after reading the blog; and Sherry's rather fearsome wrath is not to be bestirred, particularly by the unwary..

What I particularly loathe about talking to Conor is that afterwards, all the words that I could have said come rushing up to my lips and I want to speak them, except it's too late and he's already departed-- not to mention the fact that he seems to exhibit nothing but a pleasant half-smile in public, and on IMs, he evinces no attention at all.

But I'm turning far too much interest to that conversation-- unfortunately because it seems to be the only interesting part of my day. Everything else was typically mundane; the idiot next to me in Biology continued to chew his obnoxious gum and annoy past all things, Spencer was his typically bouncy/pesty self (he reminds me awfully of Ron from HP the movie, for some reason-- Ron in combination with his rat, with a fresh dose of Draco Malfoy's pestilential persona), Geometry was typically dull-- nearly fell asleep-- History was, as usual, quite annoying with Stegman sitting next to me-- bloody nitwit won't switch seats with Caroline, and whyever bloody well not?-- and Phys. Ed was worse than usual; everyone seemed to take it upon themselves to try to coach me into playing softball, and Sullivan was louder than usual in his praises and encouragements.

That seems to be everything of interest about my day.

EDIT:

One sting of that poisoned kiss
The venom that I can never resist
And watch me fall through the world
Never listening, never caught
Destined to be perpetually forgot.

These ocean’s tears, they’ll never exist
Through the desires of a fiercely made wish
Watch them glitter like glamour, like lights,
Like the newly fallen stars of the skies,
Betray naught for these forsaken lies.

Memories drawn forth by a single beckon’s touch,
Allow it to swarm, wait for it to become too much
And still refuse to believe the thoughts that await
The hunger that devours a world that has grown cold
By the serpentine children that grow ever more old.

Read between the lines, the dusty ink awaits
Abandon all choices to the gods and the perpetual fates
The world’s treachery awaits the scales of judgment beneath
Between sadness or bereavement, ever choose the latter,
For the words are all that matter.
The words are all that matter.

-- The Words are All That Matter.

[begin:exerpt]
MoroseHarpy: has Conor been on drugs or sugar lately?
Aa602213x1023: no
Aa602213x1023: shut up
MoroseHarpy: why?
Aa602213x1023: because
Aa602213x1023: youre annoyinh
MoroseHarpy: that's good
MoroseHarpy: explain how I'm annoying
MoroseHarpy: and I'll go away
Aa602213x1023: you are
Aa602213x1023: no explanation needed
MoroseHarpy: how am I annoying?
Aa602213x1023: no reason
Aa602213x1023: just are
MoroseHarpy: explain one reason?
Aa602213x1023: cant
Aa602213x1023: just inherently annoying
MoroseHarpy: why didn't you mention this before when I asked you if I was annoying?
Aa602213x1023: becasue then you werent
MoroseHarpy: well then
MoroseHarpy: what's changed between then and now?
Aa602213x1023: BEING CONSTANTY ASKED IF YOURE ANNOYING THOUGH IS
MoroseHarpy: if I stop
MoroseHarpy: will I still be annoying?
Aa602213x1023: not as assnoyinh
MoroseHarpy: am I more irritating than Annie?
Aa602213x1023: ehhhaaaaahheahdhahhaha
Aa602213x1023: hard call

[five minute interval]

MoroseHarpy: am I still annoying?
Aa602213x1023: not as much
MoroseHarpy: what'd I been doing before that was annoying?
Aa602213x1023: yeh
MoroseHarpy: *twitch*
MoroseHarpy: *sulkily* look, if you just want me to go away, you could just say so, instead of starting all the blandness again
Aa602213x1023: i really dont care
[end:exerpt]

I'd like to think that it was some imposter on Conor's screen name, but I don't want to presume; besides which, the "I don't care" perfectly well embodies what I've always assumed to be Conor's main attitude towards me-- though I've tried not to think about it. Gods know that I hate being ignored. Unfortunately, I still don't hate him-- it's still the mild interest in everything that he does, and with no malevolence to it, either.

How annoying that that makes him sound almost perfect. He's not, though, thank the gods, or else we'd have stabbed him and crucified him already. I myself, admittedly, am pretty close to it right now.

2004-04-19T14:54:00.000-07:00

[begin first transmission]

All alone
that whisper in the night
blasphemy against another
this forgiving deity
loving individual
Holy Father forgive me for I have sinned
cannot understand the pleasure of it
for you have never lived.
Prayers again
voice breaking beneath the strain
I’m sorry Father
so sorry.
and comes the response from memory.
God is with you always, child

fumbling against the rooftiles
scrambling up to see the moon
breath stolen from the air
shattered cries ring aloud in the night
unheard, unwanted
forsaken, forgotten
where is he now that I have broken
fallen like Lucifer from Heaven?
does he repudiate me like all others?
please, holy father, answer me
hunger for the loving touch
falling to the dust
from the bowels of the earth we rise
but to it eternally we return
and comes the response from memory
You have not fallen, child
do not distress
God is with you always.

fingers clinging to the tiles
rough ceramic abraising
do not let me fall, father
not worthy to come to you yet
I want only to prove myself
want only to see your face again
Holy father, answer me!
but only the birds give reply
God is with you always, child.
Where is he now?

lost in swirling darkness, seeing naught but tribulations
God gave man freedom, and so, misery
life, likened to some heavenly wine
Man is so easily drunk
and through it all
God is with you always, child.
Your Eternal father.

Dad went so long ago
Mum followed not soon after
Corpses still animated
the eternal smile
Darling, sweetheart, love, why are you like this?
What is wrong?
voices blundering against her ears
stumble in the dark
All is quiet, is dead
where is this heavenly father
that he should receive my thanks for this?
Leaping off, like a gentle bird
toes leaving the rooftop at once
seeking him in the skies
where stars outline her form
But falls like all mortals
the fall of the sparrow
No heaven, no hell
only the caress of the earth
welcoming its child home
body discarded in a wash of crimson
Returning to the dust.
And through it all
The whisper in the night.
God is with you always, child.

[/end first transmission]

[begin second transmission]
so you're a self proclaimed messiah
or maybe a blasphemous liar
a clever hypnotic hoax
a hallowed heretic coax
who tells these stories so old
no, never the same twice told
speaking in distorted truths
i see that Thomas wants some proof
did you come to heal the sick
with one more magician's trick
ye generation seeks a sign
while blind keeps leading the blind

so you say there is no god
just a clever man's charade
a once upon a fairy tales fraud
has god made man or man made god
there is no god

confused thy talk in parables
accused thou walk in parallels
a simple game of Simon says
this month's flavor sciences
today's fact, tomorrow's fiction
leave the rest to superstition
if knowledge comes from learning books
wisdom comes from discerning looks
a fool that says there is no god
don't feel for that sorry sod
who needs proof then he'll believe
i wonder if he's been deceived

there is no god

--Extreme, There is No God
[/end second transmission]

2004-04-19T14:27:00.000-07:00

No It SayZ STBY: An Assassin, Teatime sees things differently than other people, partly because one of his eyes is glass and the other has a pinhole pupil. He has a pet peeve about people mispronouncing his name (Teh-ah-tim-eh, not four o'clock), and he spends his free time thinking of ways to kill the Disc's anthropomorphic personifications. His friendliness is only compromised by the fact that he sees people as things, usually dead things.

MoroseHarpy: *beams and hugs him*
MoroseHarpy: YES, THAT'S HIM!

[begin: rant]

That's all I really have to say about today, except on the weekend.. A lot happened on the weekend-- mostly in IM convos, because that's the only kind of action that ever occurs in my life. I suppose a certain vampire-ish-looking person is right; I need to get out more, because if I were caucasian, I'd be bleached all the way through.. (Ha.. and Vampire is the one to be talking, I suppose. *snort*)

[begin convo_transmission]
annsparkles333: i got baptized
MoroseHarpy: awesome
annsparkles333: "Dunked" in atheistic terms
MoroseHarpy: lol
annsparkles333: oooo
annsparkles333: i got a packet about how horrible inaccurate evolution is
annsparkles333: wanna read it? i'll bring it to school
MoroseHarpy: -_-
annsparkles333: it's wonderful
MoroseHarpy: pssh, you biased peoples
annsparkles333: caue it QUOTES darwin
MoroseHarpy: look, I'd rather descend from apes than from some weirdo's rib.
annsparkles333: but Darwin didn't even suggest Macro evolution, he only suggested MICRO evolution
annsparkles333: which means that fish can turn into other fish, but apes CANT turn into humans
annsparkles333: thats DARWINS thinking did you ever know that?
annsparkles333: also, at that time palientology was new
annsparkles333: so DARWIN HIMSELF said that in the future, if transitional bones between diff. species were not found (and their not found anywhere) then darwin said that his theory is completely wrong
annsparkles333: DARWN ADMITS THAT!!
MoroseHarpy: dinosaurs're the connection between birds and lizards
annsparkles333: errrrrrg.
MoroseHarpy: and it's ADMITTED that this is so.
MoroseHarpy: so xP
MoroseHarpy: sucks to your transitional.
annsparkles333: but if your darwinistic you're basically contridictiong youself
annsparkles333: ...then
annsparkles333: how did dinosaurs
annsparkles333: become lizards and birds
MoroseHarpy: adaption.
annsparkles333: and how did apes
annsparkles333: become humans
MoroseHarpy: I'm not about to go into specifics
annsparkles333: how did we lose all
MoroseHarpy: the hair?
annsparkles333: that black hair
annsparkles333: yea
MoroseHarpy: *amused*
annsparkles333: you just admit your wrong
annsparkles333: cause drawin's wrong
annsparkles333: and darwin
MoroseHarpy: Darwin's NOT wrong
annsparkles333: admits he's wrong
MoroseHarpy: Darwin's an idiot for doing so
MoroseHarpy: so? stop talking and listen to me for a sec
MoroseHarpy: Galileo admitted that he was wrong too, about the earth revolving around the sun
annsparkles333: Darwin wrote in his book ...that in the future, if transitional bones are not found, that his theory is completely wrong. This is the future. NO transitional bones have been found. Therefore Drawin is wrong
MoroseHarpy: do you get my point?
MoroseHarpy: transitional bones HAVE been found
annsparkles333: but theory TODAY supports Galileo's first theory
annsparkles333: thoery TODAY does NOT support darwinism
MoroseHarpy: does TOO
annsparkles333: theres your diff
annsparkles333: like what?
MoroseHarpy: or why do they teach it in schools?
annsparkles333: like carbon dating?
annsparkles333: you drop
annsparkles333: ONE drop of water
annsparkles333: on a fossil
MoroseHarpy: fine, Annie. To get rid of you
MoroseHarpy: say that I believe you
MoroseHarpy: where's your proof
MoroseHarpy: that this girl
MoroseHarpy: suddenly grew out of a rib?
annsparkles333: and it'll date about 100 years older than it looks. Carbon dating, what evolutionariests use ...i wouldn't call that accurate
annsparkles333: The bible
MoroseHarpy: pssh
MoroseHarpy: the bible
annsparkles333: if you want stuff
MoroseHarpy: for all you know
annsparkles333: about the authenticity
annsparkles333: of the Bible
annsparkles333: i could give that too
MoroseHarpy: it could be the work of an overgrown scribe with no life
annsparkles333: ^.^
annsparkles333: NOpe
annsparkles333: ever heard of
MoroseHarpy: I dismiss the beginning of the world
annsparkles333: the dead sea scrolls deary?
MoroseHarpy: the bible's version, anyhow
annsparkles333: but you have no other alternative do you?
MoroseHarpy: yes I do.
annsparkles333: okay
MoroseHarpy: I can firmly believe in my own ideals
annsparkles333: humans come from birds?
MoroseHarpy: and not give them to you
annsparkles333: all evolutionariists
annsparkles333: are really stupid
annsparkles333: cause Darwin
annsparkles333: contradicts himself
MoroseHarpy: ..exCUSE me?
MoroseHarpy: Annie
annsparkles333: lol
annsparkles333: that's true
MoroseHarpy: I don't insult your people
annsparkles333: think of it logically
MoroseHarpy: you don't insult mine
annsparkles333: yes you do
annsparkles333: lol
MoroseHarpy: okay
MoroseHarpy: in that case
MoroseHarpy: SHUT THE HELL UP AND LET ME GET ON WITH MY LIFE.
annsparkles333: haha, no
annsparkles333: cause i have to prove
annsparkles333: that evolution
MoroseHarpy: even if you do
annsparkles333: is wrong
annsparkles333: and it is
MoroseHarpy: I'm going to go to Hell anyway
annsparkles333: AND
annsparkles333: the state of Ohio
MoroseHarpy: because I'm going to kill you
annsparkles333: is gonna start
MoroseHarpy: out of irritation
annsparkles333: to teach the idea
annsparkles333: of a 'higher power'
MoroseHarpy: if that happens
MoroseHarpy: I'm MOVING
MoroseHarpy: no way in HELL I'm sticking around for higher powers
annsparkles333: in SCHOOLS! *clap clap* ...lol. And if we ever do a unit on Evolution i'll fail it on purpose. I'm gonna boycott that unit in biology
MoroseHarpy: pssh
MoroseHarpy: I'll enjoy it
MoroseHarpy: and watch you squirm
MoroseHarpy: and order my fries from you one day
annsparkles333: it wont just be me squirming
annsparkles333: you kno
annsparkles333: that's the beauty of it
MoroseHarpy: *snort*
annsparkles333: lol
MoroseHarpy: I'm saving this convo
annsparkles333: hahah
MoroseHarpy: so that when you pass your bio unit with flying colors
annsparkles333: so do you get
annsparkles333: how Drawin is
annsparkles333: so totally wrong?
MoroseHarpy: he is RIGHT
MoroseHarpy: shut UP shut UP shut UP
annsparkles333: he may be right
annsparkles333: with Microevolution
annsparkles333: that means
annsparkles333: a GENUS
MoroseHarpy: Macroevolution is right too
annsparkles333: adapting
annsparkles333: into SPECIES
annsparkles333: he himself said
annsparkles333: that because paleotology
MoroseHarpy: Annie
annsparkles333: was NEW
annsparkles333: at that time
MoroseHarpy: can you please listen to me?
annsparkles333: he said in the future
annsparkles333: if they DONT find transitionary bones
MoroseHarpy: I don't honestly give a damn about what you're saying
annsparkles333: then his theory about macroevolution is wrong
annsparkles333: but its not just me
annsparkles333: it's logical
MoroseHarpy: LISTEN TO ME
annsparkles333: its what darwin said
MoroseHarpy: I DON'T GIVE A FLYING DAMN
annsparkles333: ^.^
annsparkles333: hah
MoroseHarpy: DARWIN IS RIGHT
MoroseHarpy: AND NOTHING YOU SAY
annsparkles333: okay
MoroseHarpy: WILL CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE.
annsparkles333: whats your point
annsparkles333: why is he right
annsparkles333: prove that
MoroseHarpy: ESPECIALLY SINCE YOU'RE THE ONE SAYING IT.
annsparkles333: you see? you cannot prove that drawin is right, but i can prove that drawin is wrong
MoroseHarpy: you can't
MoroseHarpy: you
MoroseHarpy: are using
annsparkles333: i just did
MoroseHarpy: biased info
annsparkles333: biased info?
annsparkles333: i shall get Drawins book
annsparkles333: and QUOTE it to you
annsparkles333: personally
MoroseHarpy: Annie
annsparkles333: about what he said
MoroseHarpy: tell you what
annsparkles333: about transitional
annsparkles333: bones
MoroseHarpy: I'll shut up
annsparkles333: found in the future
MoroseHarpy: and you will
MoroseHarpy: GET THE HELL OUT OF MY LIFE
annsparkles333: I'll seriosly find that
annsparkles333: lol for you
MoroseHarpy: please
annsparkles333: and then you'll realize that you need to think logically
MoroseHarpy: you're becoming a pest
annsparkles333: and reasonably
annsparkles333: i'm just proving my point
MoroseHarpy: ANNIE, YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND.
annsparkles333: what i understand
annsparkles333: is that you think Darwin is right
annsparkles333: but he's not
MoroseHarpy: I WILL BECOME A FREAKING WICCAN AGAIN BEFORE i'M DESPERATE ENOUGH TO RESORT TO CHRISTIANITY.
annsparkles333: btw, darwin was supposidly a real ugly dude
annsparkles333: ...just had to throw that in lol
MoroseHarpy: SO?
annsparkles333: haha
annsparkles333: that's what cory said
annsparkles333: his testimony today was lovely
MoroseHarpy: ..*twitch*
MoroseHarpy: you just had to mention that, didn't you.
annsparkles333: o yea
MoroseHarpy: now, before, I was still tolerant
MoroseHarpy: NOW, I say
annsparkles333: lol
MoroseHarpy: you have two seconds
MoroseHarpy: to get out of my sight
annsparkles333: calm down yo
MoroseHarpy: and stop talking about Darwin.
MoroseHarpy: TWO BLEEDING SECONDS.
annsparkles333: but you admit
MoroseHarpy: you get me?
annsparkles333: you can't prove your side
MoroseHarpy: you don't understand.
MoroseHarpy: yet.
[/end convo_transmission]

As if that weren't bad enough, I had a going-down-the-drain conversation with Conor. Absolutely certain that if he were interested enough, he'd hate me. Unfortunately, I also get the feeling that I occupy approximately .000000001% of his attention-- therefore I'm not hated, but only because he can't be bothered to pay enough attention.

Aa602213x1023: so why is atheism definite?
MoroseHarpy: it's not-- but the profits are
MoroseHarpy: profits= annoying Annie
Aa602213x1023: al the profits are are your vindictive, pathetic, meaningless, pursuits to annoy those that are trying to help you

Hmth. Love you too, Conor. :P

[end: rant]

Sum
Biology: It was quite funny; Mrs. Lehman was saying things about how she and her son'd seen toads mating, and Spencer felt obliged to bring up rock mountain oysters (what one of the less delicate guys referred to bluntly as "goat balls". Take it in the dirtiest sense of the word.), and Mrs. Lehman went, "Why, Spencer? Do you need the extra testosterone or something?"
Geometry: Boring as usual. Test tomorrow.
History: Boring as usual. Switched seats. Now sit next to idiot Stegman. At least have Betty behind me. Need stupid work cited page by tomorrow.
Phys Ed: Was commented upon with new book-- typical.
Spanish: Switched seats today. Betty also behind me.

2004-04-16T17:07:00.000-07:00

"..Even wendy complimented me on my colors, how they made a 'bang' on me. I appreciate that, wendy, i honestly do, for i know how errr *cough* hard it is for you to compliment me. lol. Also talked to her about Christianity, now that she's no longer wiccan and is a renounced athiest.."

-- Annie, 4.16.04, Layout More To Life.

It's almost amusing how I'm completely dependent upon the words of others to make a strong entrance for myself-- as though I can't speak for myself strongly enough without others to support me and ensure that what my purpose is becomes said. I suppose it's why Teatime possesses so strong an attraction-- one thing is for absolute certainty; he's never at a loss for what to say-- and there's a sort of charisma about his persona in that manner, so that it seems.. too fascinating. But then, I think that of all other people-- it's like the cuckoo bird, who rolls the eggs of others out of their nests, slipping her own in so that she herself can remain steadfastedly flighty-- and isn't that a strange oxymoron? Steadfastedly flighty; I think that I could actually get used to it as the sole original phrase that I have ever perpetrated. Sad, I suppose, that a self-proclaimed writer would possess but a single coined phrase; but I've never been in the imaginative state of thought enough to invent such phrases..

MoroseHarpy: is steadfastedly flighty a unique phrase?
Aa602213x1023: yeah

The day was boring as usual. We did a ridiculous dance in Spanish-- which was the only interesting class, as usual, as Biology was stupefyingly.. stupid, Geometry was atypically dimwitted, History was abysmally chauvenistic, courtesy of the Avocado, I utterly loathe Phys. Ed, as always.. (Dustin Fawcett kicked volleyballs at my head until I sat there, glaring at him steadily, before he left off. Barstid. And we lost our first volleyball game; sadness.) leaving Spanish clearly as the winner.

Mastermetalseadramon has replaced blue_sword with Sehena, pernesewhitedragon. Oh.. damn. Freaking egoboost for the one person who deserves it less than any other. Frig, frig, frig.

Returning to the main subject, which was Annie and our conversation thereof-- we actually had a decent conversation. She didn't seriously annoy me, and I, in return, attempted not to jab at her with various insults and degrading comments that I'm not entirely certain she would have understood, in any case. In short, we actually went and got along for a while, rather than going for each other's throats. It was most probably a temporary affair, but nevertheless, it indicates that Annie and I are, upon random occasions, actually capable of connecting upon some level.

MoroseHarpy: you look nice in black+pink, btw
annsparkles333: OMG
MoroseHarpy: bit of a shocking combination in colors, but you do look nice
annsparkles333: ..wow
annsparkles333: thanks
MoroseHarpy: you're welcome
MoroseHarpy: :-)
MoroseHarpy: I think that black and white shirt you have suits you better
MoroseHarpy: but then again, I like black and white better anyway
MoroseHarpy: on anyone
MoroseHarpy: except maybe Betty
MoroseHarpy: she goes with.. like.. pastel colors
MoroseHarpy: possibly light pinks and blues
annsparkles333: or light greens
MoroseHarpy: *considers this*
MoroseHarpy: not sure about that.. I think blue or pink suits her better
annsparkles333: ...
annsparkles333: what bout me?
annsparkles333: black and white?
annsparkles333: nice
MoroseHarpy: you go well with the dramatic changes of color
MoroseHarpy: the colors that don't clash, but make a really big bang anyway
MoroseHarpy: if you know what I mean by that.. I have strange turns of phrases
annsparkles333: errr
annsparkles333: i'll take that
annsparkles333: as a compliment ^.^
MoroseHarpy: heh
annsparkles333: i do make a big bang eh?
MoroseHarpy: *dryly* I wouldn't go that far, Annie dear
annsparkles333: haha
MoroseHarpy: wait, I take back that black-and-white working with anyone statement
MoroseHarpy: it's just you
MoroseHarpy: Conor does nicely with the dark reds and grays
MoroseHarpy: Cory looks better with the dark blues, and possibly light gray-fading-to-whites
MoroseHarpy: Kelly looks nice in the darker colors

And then we had some random conversation, featuring more of Conor, possibly bits of sandwiches-- or other assorted breadbits-- John Kerry, feminism, and, as unlikely as it seems, God.

Today was all in all, quite fruitful, actually. Except for the bit where that idiot, David, Mum's frigging boyfriend, came over. Moving in in the fall.. feh. Friggin' barstid.

2004-04-15T13:42:00.000-07:00

Don't want to talk to people-- want them to talk to me-- and want to want to, not simply the bland chatterings of boredom, or the offhanded polite social-talk that Annie uses so often. The thing about being impersonal-- or attempting to be-- is that it tends to redouble back upon you, and therefore you often get squashed beneath the very burden you'd sought to avoid; that of wanting the attention of others.

Haven't spoken to Judy in months, Ms. Ward is just blandly friendly, I don't know Andrea* or Conor or that guy with the curly black hair who sits with them** at lunch, Annie only talks to me when I think I have clever banter to say, Betty has a great tendency to ignore me whenever someone's better to talk to around, Sherry's a thousand miles away, literally, I haven't seen Cory in a thousand years.. and besides which, the only person I think I can truly rely on here for decent conversation is myself.

Schitzo tendancies, anyone?

*Short OR tall.
**Not us, them. There isn't an us.

2004-04-15T13:08:00.000-07:00

[begin first transmission]

Just three miles from the rest stop
And she slams on the brakes
She said I tried to be but I'm not
And could you please collect your things
I don't wanna be cold
I don't wanna be cruel
But I gotta find more than what's happening with you
If you'd
Open up the door..

She said
While you were sleeping
I was listening to the radio
And wondering what you're dreaming when
It came to mind that I didn't care
And I thought
Hell, if it's over
I had better end it quick
Or I could lose my nerve
Are you listening
Can you hear me
Have you forgotten..

Just three miles from the rest stop
And my mouth's too dry to rage
The light was shining from the radio
I could barely see her face
But she knew all the promises that I never had said
She knew the crumpled-up promise of this broken down man
And as I opened up the door..

She said
While you were sleeping
I was listening to the radio
And wondering what you're dreaming when
It came to mind that I didn't care
And I thought
Hell, if it's over
I had better end it quick
Or I could lose my nerve
Are you listening
Can you hear me
Have you forgotten..

--Matchbox 20, Rest Stop

[end first transmission]

[begin second transmission]

I thought about
Leaving
But I couldn't even get outta bed
Hitchin'
But I couldn't get a ride outta town
Now anyone who really wanted me to be down
Come 'round

Thought about
Singing'
but I couldn't remember all of the words
Breakin'
But I couldn't get the pieces apart
Laughin'
Never knowing what the joke was about.

Now I'm down
And I wonder how I never got the burn
And if I'm ever gonna learn
How lonely people make
a life
One strain a time

Forgot about
Everything and everyone I needed before
Tryin' to get a handle on a reasont o shine
Pickin' up the pieces that are falling behind
takes time

So I wonder how I never got the burn
And if I'm never gonna learn
How lonely people make a life
One strain at a time and still shine..

Now I'm down
And I wonder how I never got the burn
And if I'm ever gonna learn
How lonely people make their life
One strain a time
Still shine..

--Matchbox 20, The Burn
[end second transmission]

2004-04-14T13:06:00.000-07:00

9 st. 8 (better than 9 st. 9; v. good)
Time Spent Daydreaming About Shooting Mum: 56 (better)
Times Played Neopet Games for Sister's Amusement Without Throttling Her: 6 (v. v. good)
Listening to: nothing at the moment.
Wearing: What Betti-- Betty tells me is a Ralph Lauren jackety thing, with flared blue jeans.
Reading: Pyramids, by Terry Pratchett

I guess this is officially the first time that I'm blogging over here; the most important event of this little blog's career, I suppose. What's especially annoying, I suppose, is the fact that all this importance rests upon me-- I'm not even what you would vaguely address as important. I'm certainly desperate enough for attention that I actually visit other people's blogs, clicking despondently as I try to find when they last mentioned me. (Annie mentioned me last sometime in February, and then only in passing; Conor mentioned me sometime in January, Lily hasn't mentioned me at all, and Sherry hasn't mentioned me since the beginning of her blog's founding.*)

Talking to Bettileth right now-- Betty, probably, since she's been sharply remonstrating me for calling her that.. and I was thinking about giving it up anyway. Dustin Fawcett** was mimicking me in Spanish class-- which was rather stupid, all in all. Nevertheless, I do have something of an acute sense of my (nonexistant) dignity, so "Bettileth"'s been given up.. for the moment, anyway-- though I doubt that my instincts will capitulate so easily; I've gotten into too much of the habit of calling her thusly to just.. stop all of the sudden.

Didn't see/hear from/hear of Teatime today.. am sad. But on the other hand, only a few more weeks until the anniversary of the day I declared an insane/madly passionate love for Teatime***, and I plan to fully enjoy that day***. He's still.. venerable. :D Though not in the sense that means that he's old; unlike L.M. Montgomery, writer of Anne of Green Gables, I have no interest in someone who's approximately twenty/thirty years older than I am. (Strangely, the name of that short story was called "The Marrying of Betty", or whatever. At least that Betty was an air-headed, athletic, chirpy git.)

Am currently debating unplugging the computer's internet and leaving Mum to flounder; stupid git nearly broke the computer on Sunday by unplugging all the wires at once and then attempting to smash the computer screen. And it's-- as Shining so kindly decided to point out to me-- /her/ computer; she doesn't even have a bleeding reason to smash it except for the fact that she wants to, and even when /I'm/ angry, I don't break things. Except maybe hearts.***

Spanish was thankfully devoid of all interest today, except for the bit at the end where I went and stared for about five minutes at Betty-and-Conor-having-a-conversation. They looked to be actually enjoying each other's company; a surprise that I wouldn't have expected, given the fact that Betty's employment of sarcasm rests at precisely zero-- though I'll admit that her tolerance for it is certainly a lot higher than mine-- and I spent the rest of the period peacefully watching them. Well, peacefully, except for the bits where I told the Leaky Fawcett to kindly shut up. But that doesn't really count; I'm incapable of being rude. Rude is for interesting people. Vaguely annoyed is for dull people-- and thereby for me.

Still working on the stupid website-- none of the links work yet because I haven't had the time to make them do so, which is waxes mightily depressing, but regardlessly so..

Woke up this morning and refilled the gerbil waterbottle-- as soon as I slid it in, they started fighting over it, clawing at each other and all. It's rather depressing to realize that I haven't been taking very good care of them..

Bracelet is still here. Gods be blessed.

That's all, I think.

*Speaking of Sherry, of course, she claims that she hasn't blogged in 'forever'. I checked; April 3rd against my.. December? It's depressing.
**An idiot. Also capable of being referred to as a sallow person. You can recognize him in the midst of a crowd; he's the only one who looks like a dead chicken.
***Yeah. Right.