The Wonder Has a Name: Stupidity

A lot of stupid things have been happening lately. My MySpace keeps getting hacked. I was going to delete it but Patrick doesn't want me to. I'm getting pretty tired of MySpace altogether, but I guess I'm willing to give it one more try.

It's too bad. I compiled an entire list of evidence and it's all stacked against Anderson. I never thought he would do something like that. I'm still not 100% sure it's him, but I'm pretty certain. Who else could it really be? Why would he do that though? That's what really gets me. Why would anyone do that to me?

Maybe it isn't Anderson. Maybe it's someone else. It is definitely someone I KNOW though, I'm completely sure of that. No messages were ever sent to Anderson. Just comments. The e-mail account that the hacker used to sign into my account was aa74824@yahoo.com. AA = Aaron Anderson and 74824 is the zip code of hometown Agra. SO..... Anderson?? But that would be much too obvious. I think someone might be trying to frame Anderson, as silly as this sounds (it's a MySpace account for Pete's sake!).

Either way, I really wish whoever it is would quit it, because they're really pissing me off. It wasn't so bad at first because hey, it's just MySpace, right? But then they started sending mean messages to people (my friends). Or sexually suggestive messages. See because now I have all these messages from guys I barely even know who think that I want their cocks. >:-O Then the thing about my dead dog. That was nice. >:-(

Anyway, I've been getting more furious as time goes by, because this being fucked with over and over is really getting to me.

Childhood?

Sometimes I really miss my childhood. I have a lot of memories that I'm really glad to have.


One day while I was riding the school bus home after kindergarten, I looked at my arms, noting that they were white (as in caucasian), and I thought to myself, I'm glad I'm white and not black. LOL! And everyday after school, my brother Kelly (Patrick) and I would race each other to the front door so we could get on the NES before the other. We had The Legend of Zelda, Zelda II, Chrystallis, Bubble Bobble, Super Marios Bros. I and III, and a few others I can't recall. My mom played the Zelda and Mario games. She was really good at them. When Chris sold me his Zelda promotional disc that came with his GameCube when I was in 10th grade, I wanted her to play them, but she didn't want to. :-[

I also remember one of my earlier birthdays, I wanted a bike. I got one. It was purple and had a pretty white basket on it. I remember wishing it wasn't so girly, but whatever, a bike's a bike. AND I knew I was getting a bike for my birthday before it was my birthday because I saw the bike in the barn that we kids weren't allowed to go into.

And the first time I ever shoplifted, lol! I was so little. I took a pack of gum from the Town & Country grocery store.

One time, the back door was broken, and we were going to go to Debbie's house (my mom's friend), and my dad said we wouldn't leave until whoever broke it spoke up. No one did, and I wanted to go to Debbie's house because James (the boy I had a crush on in kindergarten, lol) lived next door. So.. I said I did it, even though I didn't. In fact, I didn't even know it was broken! So my dad asked me how I broke it. I said, "With a stick." Hah! A stick! How retarded. They must have believed me though, because I got a spanking. I totally did a favor for one of my brothers.... probably Patrick.

To ease an entire family's suffering...

I can't even begin to imagine what I'd be like now. Even Jeri had said, in response to how I've changed, that in general I, "...used to be happier." There was a time when I was very young, maybe six or seven.. My dad was talking to one of his friends, and he had said that someday, he would be living in a hole in the ground underneath a rock. I said, "But daddy, you could come live with me." And to this he said that I wouldn't want him to live with me. I was confused. But, I understood what he was talking about when I visited his grave seven years later.

Last night, I thought to myself, how would my dad react if it was me who had died instead? My dad had said before that he would die for me, but how meaningless would that be, when he was the most important person in my entire life? How would he react to my death? Would he believe it? Would he ever be able to laugh, or even genuinely smile again?

When it was evident that I was going to be a girl, my mother wanted to name me Hattie Belle. Now, Hattie Belle O'Malley? Or even just Hattie O'Malley? Thanks to my dad I was able to escape the assured elementary torment of all the words that rhyme with "Hattie". Sarah Anne O'Malley rolls off the tongue pretty easily as well. But what's in a name anyway, right?

Growing up, my dad was always my favorite parent. Should a child have a favorite parent? Should a parent have a favorite child? Either way, they do. I was my dad's favorite, of course, being the Daddy's Girl I was. Something has been bothering me recently. If he were still alive, or... if he were in a state that would allow him to know me still, as watching over me or something like that.... would he be as proud of me now as he has always been before? Or would I be a failure in his eyes? I'm eighteen years old now, a woman. When he left this world, I was only thirteen. The first time I ever put on makeup was when I was thirteen. He threatened to kill all the boys in town. I never thought I was pretty. Maybe because Patrick would always call me ugly when we fought and argued, or maybe because I didn't have guys falling all over me back then. When I was in 3rd grade, I asked my dad if I was pretty. He told me I'm beautiful. Of course a parent would say that. I felt I should have known better than to ask him. Do I think I'm pretty now? Beautiful? On a good day, sure. But what does it for me most is remembering that almost every guy friend I've made has asked me out at least once since we've met. I have lots of guy friends! Anderson says to me in Chemistry one day, "You know, you might see a guy walking down the street with a hot chick, but that's all she has to offer. Then you might see a guy walking down the street with a not-hot chick, because her personality is great. But you Sarah, you have the best of both worlds." I don't know how true that is.

My dad would often flaunt to his friends how pretty I've become. Did I believe it? I think I mostly ignored it. He would always comment on my vivid green eyes, which were exactly like his, and my long legs. I think my legs finished growing before the rest of my body did, because they don't seem to be especially long anymore. Average.

Often, I say that I don't have to regret anything. While that may be true, there is one thing I will always regret. The last time I saw my father alive, I was in so much of a hurry to leave that when I gave him a hug, I barely even wrapped my arms around him, and when I said "I love you" I didn't look into his eyes, but instead had my eyes fixed on my mother's car while I was running towards it. To leave my father with that impression of me, so pathetic, completely and blatantly ungrateful,... it kills me. It's so painful to think about.

Patrick and Aaron were there to witness our dad's final breath. While Charlie and I were acting "normally", Aaron and Patrick apparently were not. They got therapy. Sometimes I think that maybe I needed that therapy too. Patrick and I moved in with our mom after this, Aaron with out aunt. The only complaint I had to this was the stepfather. I managed to make him leave though, sick of me and Patrick, and my mom resented me for it. But she should thank me. She has someone good now, someone who doesn't threaten to bash her kids' brains out. I did good, and I deserve a thanking! I feel sorry for Zach though, my little brother. He wanted to be an O'Malley, he wanted to call my dad "Dad". I was always saying to him things like, "You'll never be an O'Malley, and you'll never have a dad as good as mine, and you can only call him 'Chuck'." I was so mean to him.. I was so focused on the fact that he was only a half-brother. What the hell was wrong with me? He is as much my family as Aaron or Patrick.. and I was so cruel to him.

Patrick came to me one night after moving into my mother's house, I was lying on my bed crying, because I missed my daddy so much.. He said things to me, he confessed things to me; how he felt guilty for our father's death because it was Patrick who had the idea of going to the lake, which is the place my dad was leaving when he died. If they had not gone to the lake, he would not have died in the car accident that followed. But what sense would it have made to me to blame my brother? It would only make sense to him, because I'm sure all of his children have blamed themselves in some way, and to some extent. At the funeral I didn't cry until one his favorite songs played. It was a sad song, of course, well, kind of, but the atmosphere where it was heard will leave a lasting impression of deep sadness upon me:

Good times come and then they go
The rain will fall the wind will blow
Through it all you gotta know
I'll do what I can do
To protect you right or wrong
Heal the hurt 'til the hurt is gone
I'll be right where I belong
I'll be here for you

I'll be here
when the sky turns gray
The sun goes blind
and the moon won't stay
I'll be the light to guide your way
onto some place new
I'll be here
when the crowd is gone
The last note fades on the very last song
I'll be the road to take you home
I'll be here for you

When your star falls from the sky
And your wings don't want to fly
Just remember I'm standing by
To help to see you through
'Cause better days
will come again
Clouds will break,
your heart will mend
I'll be where I've always been
I'll be here for you

I'll be here
when the sky turns gray
The sun goes blind
and the moon won't stay
I'll be the light to guide your way
onto some place new
I'll be here
when the crowd is gone
The last note fades on the very last song
I'll be the road to take you home
I'll be here for you

Passion for Thoughts

I think the only woman a not-single guy should want to see naked is his girlfriend or wife, you know, whichever he has. You shouldn't look at porn or go to strip clubs when I'm your girlfriend, no fucking way is that gonna fly. Unless you wanna make me feel unattractive and not good enough, which leads to me dumping your ass for someone who can make me happy. And if you did watch porn or go to strip clubs BEFORE you got me, don't brag about it in front of me.. it wouldn't only work to piss me off.

Sometimes I think I expect too much out of most people. Yet, at the same time, I expect nothing, because I hardly trust anyone anyway. One of the people I trust most in the world -- Aaron Anderson. Anderson has been a dear friend to me for over five years. If he says he is coming to see me after I move to Michigan, I believe him. You know who I don't believe? Ryan Swafford and Chris McFarlin. Once they found out Anderson had told me he was going to visit me in Michigan, they were all too quick to shoot down my hopes by saying he would never do that, that all he is is a liar, a liar who deserves no one's trust. I've never known Anderson to lie to me. But I know Chris has. Chris said Anderson was a closer friend to Chris and Ryan than he ever was to me. Is that true? Whether it's fact or not, the time where that could've been true (whenever that was) is long passed, and Anderson isn't a friend to them any longer. So I think it's safe to say that, while Anderson and Chris did have a rich friendship, Anderson is now a closer friend to me than he will ever be to Chris.

There's a lot of things I need to work out in my life. I don't know what to start with first. I have personal issues that sometimes just seem to pile up overnight. I always thought that people, even a single person, especially if you really did love that person, would mean more than something inanimate, you know, something that can't even love you back. I've been called heartless and cruel a few times, but am I really so heartless when I think that all life should be treated with more respect and care than you'd give to something that has no life in it? It isn't fair. People have put things above me a lot in my life I think, and some of the people closest to me still do, but I've never called anyone cruel or heartless because of that, and because I know how much it hurts, I've never valued something more than someone. Take my manga collection for example. I place a very high amount of value on those manga. Yet, I place even more vaule on Chris, the guy who made the last few months of my time in Oklahoma a living hell for me. I realized that if I can't hate Chris, I can't hate anybody. But it's happened too many times where I'd have been promised an afternoon conversation, yet, I get nothing because I was ditched for music. Son of a bitch.

While I can't hate anybody, I can sure as hell hold a grudge, probably longer than anyone else you know. I always was more of the laid back kind of girlfriend back in the day. Maybe I'm just scared of commitment, and this is how I'm dealing with it.. I often find that I'm asking myself what the hell I'm doing here in Michigan. It's not like I can make anything of myself here. Oklahoma was better for that. I lived there. I went to school there. I love Oklahoma. However, Bay City is not a city I can really call home... can I?

I can hardly believe Jesse would yell at me in front of his friends like he did last night. I was stunned. And really embarrassed.

Jesse has a friend named Sean. I don't think he likes me because I make it harder for him and Jesse to hang out. It's not really my fault though. Every time Sean calls wanting to do something, Jesse always thinks he has to ask me for permission or something. Sean's a nerd. I think he's a bigger nerd than Jesse is, but I'm not really sure.... I mean, his room is filled with all sorts of nerdy things, but what does a person's belongings really tell you about a person? I don't think Sean and I could ever really be "good" friends, to be honest. I mean, I have no idea what to talk to this guy about. I guess I could try talking about Superman or comic books, but I wouldn't. And if you have Sean and Jesse together, I can't really contribute anything to the conversation because I usually don't know what the hell they're talking about. Sean seems like a nice guy and everything, but not the type of person I'd naturally be friends with... which makes me consider something odd: is Jesse really the type of person I'd naturally be romantically drawn to? Haha, no! Something tells me I might need to make some changes in my life.

I never know what to do anymore. I never know how I should feel anymore, except hungry.

For a few days, Jesse, Jesse's parents, and I went north to the upper peninsula (UP) of Michigan. It was pretty cool. We went to Mackinac/Mackinaw Island (they spell it both ways for some reason), and we went to Munising for the Picture Rocks Cruise and to the Tahquamenon Falls. There's lots of fudge in Mackinac Island/Mackinaw City. I don't like fudge. I tried it here. It sucks. I also went swimming in Lake Superior. It was fucking cold, but I got used to it eventually and had a barrel of fun. It was like an ocean! I mean, I've never been to the ocean (except when I was tiny, but I don't remember so it doesn't count), but I've seen pictures, and if I had just magically appeared on the beach of Lake Superior, you know, without knowing where I was, then I'd assume it was not a lake, but an ocean. Pretty damn impressive. The lakes here are NOTHING like the lakes in Oklahoma. But that's easy to understand, since the lakes in Michigan are natural, and the lakes in Oklahoma are actually man-made because Oklahoma originally had no lakes.

I got sunburned though. On my cheeks and nose. I didn't wear any sunscreen and of course, I totally should have. I was under the sun for the Picture Rocks Cruise, for the swimming in the lake, for the swimming in an outdoor pool, and more. Silly me. But the sunburn is mostly gone, and should be by the end of the day.

I slept on the couch last night at Jesse's and I woke up at about 6:13 this morning. That isn't normal. Usually I wake up at around 10 or 11 in the morning. But I kept laying on the couch, just thinking to myself.

Bay City

Well, I haven't updated this thing in a long time, so I thought it was high time to do so.

I've arrived in Bay City...... over a month ago. I went about trying to open a Financial Edge account for a debit card, but I needed a Michigan ID, and to get a Michigan ID, I would need proof of residency, which is something I won't have until I get my checks in the mail from the bank I just signed up at yesterday for a checking account. But fuck the debit card, I don't really want it anyway.

I went to the movies last night with Jesse and saw Pirates of the Caribbean 2. I say, it's highly overrated. I didn't care for it. When the third one comes out, I'm not going to see.

So.. Bay City, Michigan. That's where I am. It's an okay town, a little smaller than Stillwater. There are lots of seagulls. I think they're cute, but Jesse said the novelty will wear off in a few months or so. I should take pictures of them for my mom.. she's an avid bird enthusiast. At the A&W over by Jesse's grandma's house, a waitress was being mobbed by a group of seagulls. It was interesting. And in the park, they were chasing each other for pieces of bread. There were at least thirty of them, it was great.

Overall, Bay City isn't so bad. I miss Oklahoma though. Lately, I've been wanting to go to the Witchita Mountains really badly.

I haven't been paying hardly any attention to Viewers' Pick. I really miss the people on there, but I'm still not really motivated to post there anymore. The people I miss most are Trig, Acalith, and Brian. Acalith and I hardly ever talk anymore, which is mostly my fault. I really like Trig a lot, he's so precious. I can't wait to talk to him in person, because that's one of the things I plan on doing someday, even though he lives in Idaho/Florida. Sometimes it's like I really do consider him my son, but then I tell myself I'm such a big sillies. Ahahaha!

Poetry

Crawling in my forlorn appearance
I hide myself behind these tattered wings
Tattered and broken as they are
Plucked of light, stained in tears and blood.

In quiet despair upon the cold earth
Smeared in dirt, I crouch upon my weary knees
And clutched timidly between my fingers
Rests one last jewel of hope.

A single unblemished plume plucked
From the silver light of dawn
A feathered ray of light from beyond
To illuminate the void that has me bound.

This precious barb of silk
Once lost as I was and forgotten
Blazes now to immerse me in radiant bliss
To wash away the pain,
to draw me from the abyss.

So now I fade away…
My tender flesh removed
My shattered wings released
My inner light unsheathed…
escapes.
-------------------------------------------

You taught me to
burn the preludes from the books
that I read
because what happens before
is insignificant.


Together we are two--
two pairs of eyes and four hands--
only one heart, though.
One takes less maintenance.


It takes too much effort
to think about you--
my mind just clouds
with thick, black sorrow
and it's ugly;
"Darkness isn't ugly--it's just lonely,"
(but I'm good company.)


You stand on rooftops to
drop jars from them,
to watch glass shatter
into tiny pieces,
because
breaking things is beautiful.
Broken things are beautiful.


Together our sum equals two bodies,
four-hundred-and-twelve bones,
and approximately seven shared grins
per day.
All the more smiles to shatter,
darling.


There are too many things
that I can't stand about you,
but even more that are
painfully bearable--
love abides by such
cruel standards.
-------------------------------------------

Hey Future Love,

I didn't know how to start this letter
Dear, or hello -- couldn't decide which sound better.
I went for the informal because I'm not trying to impress
Try to make it laid back so there's no need to stress.
I know I don't know your name—but someday I hope
We'll meet on the street and no longer be alone.
Sometimes I gaze up at the stars and imagine how it will be—
Where will it happen? Will you just turn and look at me?
Will we discover the meaning of "love at first sight?"
Perhaps it will take one or two nights—
Laying out under the stars and discovering the mysteries
Asking questions that have eluded the minds of many for centuries.
Maybe it will be our laughter that floats in the air—
That makes us turn in the right direction, at that moment, right there.
Our eyes will meet, and it will be just like in a movie
We'll smile at each other, and you'll ask me out for a cup of coffee.
Oh the possibilities, they haunt me in my sleep
All the secrets I want to share but for now I keep.
Each poem I write makes me somehow feel closer to you
Based on emotions that I know to be true.
When life gets me down, I look up at the night sky
For a long moment, I'm silent but eventually I'll sigh—
Someday we'll meet, and it'll be like we had never been apart
Because you know when you've found the one
That completes your heart.


I look at the letter, tears roll down my cheeks
I rest my head on my pillow, and try to sleep.
Slowly the letter slips from my hands—
Tumbles to the ground, but the wind has other plans.
Out the window, it soars through the night
Travels the world in its magnificent flight—
And gets caught in a branch, outside his room;
Where inside he is dreaming of the love to come soon.
-------------------------------------------

How sad and gloomy is the world,
this world of sin and woe.
While I drift along Life's stream,
tossed helpless to and fro,
my tears will ever flow.
-------------------------------------------

From pain and sorrow all around
there 's no escape, I fear.
To mountain wilds should I retreat,
there also I should hear
the cry of hunted deer.
-------------------------------------------

The ailments of advancing years
though I should try to hide,
some day the thread will break, the pearls
be scattered far and wide--
Age cannot be defied.
-------------------------------------------

It's fine,
That you show no interest in me,
Because truth be told
I couldn't have expected anymore
And still be living in the realms of reality.

It's perfectly acceptable,
That you're attention passes me by,
As if I were a fleeting thought
A good idea lost
The car you know flew past
But don't care enough about to look at.

It's quite all right,
You'd rather not utter
A word my way,
That would be asking too much
As you have much better things to say
Than "Hello"

You don't see me.
And that's fine,
Even if I look my best
Wait with baited breath
For the off chance
You'll notice my fairy wings.

But it's not fine,
Not really,
That you're all I see
That I have to turn the other way
To try and get you out of eyesight.

It's not all right,
That you make my hands shake
Or my stomach drop
That no matter how hard I try
I just can't seem to get you
Out of my mind.

It's not acceptable,
That you smell so damn good
It makes me lose focus
And feel like a fool
When I fight the urge
To crawl towards you.

I understand perfectly
If you don't see me...

But I wish like hell
It's you I can't see
-------------------------------------------

Between her legs lies something that
every man seems to want.
A place where she should be able
to call her own, between her legs.
She feels that men only want her,
to have sex with her,
and walk away.
The breasts she has,
they gain stares from men passing by,
tripping over themselves
to find a chance to touch.
When will she stop being looked at,
as an object of sex?
When will a man see her
as someone he may spend his life with?
Her hips curve,
but she doesn't want your hands on them
if you're just going to touch her skin.
What made these men think
she is just a toy?
Between her legs lies something
that every man seems to want.
She feels men looking, seeing her
as an object of lust, an object
that men can thrust,
and walk away,
when all she wanted was to be held.
She is no object for sex,
so close your mind,
and forget what you want.
She is a woman,
and she deserves more respect.
-------------------------------------------

Poem

The best words occur between twelve o'clock and two.

So, this is my
bathroom floor confessional--
my mem-war of a
starving artiste
bloated by the fruits
of idio-angelic praise.

I prefer the term "revolutionary"
to "hypocrite," please.

Haikus are written in five-seven-five
Don't you dare try to tell me
otherwise: I'll beat you with my Gideon bible
and shout obscure passages to reinforce
the bible's identity--
from Ecclesiastes, or, uh, Plato.

Hey, why are sex and death
so intrinsically linked?
Because they both provide a climax. (Au revoir, mon amour,
let us have a cigarette.)

I would like to be completely honest with you
in saying that I really, really
really wanted to write you something celestial.
but I could not think of anything
except for global warming. (You're like a slant rhyme.
you work so nicely in theory,
but you end up so flawed.)


I'm so sorry.
I'm American, I have to be.

Get this:
I can tell you the origins
of the word "cynic"
the first cynics
the best Greek inventions.

I can recite for you "The Raven"
start to finish, if you'd like,
but I cannot tell you
what the fuck
I'm doing.

It's two now.
Thank-you. Good night.

"The Will of God"

I hate it when people talk about how things happen because some god wishes it to be so.. Doesn't it say somewhere that this god isn't to mess with our free will? If that's the case, then no one should be thinking that he'd interfere; no one should be thinking that he meddles with human existence.

But there's no god anyway, so I don't have to deal with any of that crap. I'm a very avid atheist. Even if there was a god, I wouldn't want anything to do with him.

An Update Finally

I'm tired. I'm so tired. I stayed up late waiting until like three in the morning last night. I stayed up until the four the previous night, and I stayed up pretty late the night before that one as well. I have just been tired as hell the last three days.. Oh well, I guess.

My brother Patrick is leaving to go to Ft. Hood, Texas this morning..

The book fair has been going on here in the library everyday since last Wednesday. This is the last day though. I don't like being a library assistant anymore. I didn't like it that much to begin with, but there's nothing to fucking do on a day like this. I feel deserted, a feeling I haven't felt for a while... Well, I have, but in small doses, I guess.

I'm a little mad right now. I'm supposed to reading five chapters of this crappy book before third block, because there's a test, but I don't want to. I'll just fail the test, like I fail pretty much everything else.

I'm a terrible sister. I'm mean to my little brother all the time, when he doesn't deserve it. I tell him he's fat, when really, he isn't all that fat. I have fatter friends than he is, and I never say a word about it to them. I call him stupid and gay, and while he might not be very bright, neither am I.
Anyway, my brother Aaron was looking forward to seeing me over Fall Break when my mom went down 160 miles south of here just to visit them. I didn't go because I didn't feel like being cooped up in a car for two and a half hours.. I almost NEVER get to see him, and I had given up one of the few chances I have just because I don't feel like sitting in a car for an extended amount of time. My brother Charlie.. I never even attempt to talk to him anymore. .

I am a horrible daughter. I talk back to my mom a lot. Why can't I listen? My bedtime is 11:00 every night, yet I stay up passed four in the morning sometimes. I'm never in bed, attempting to fall asleep, by eleven. I don't want to go to sleep at eleven, so I don't. But I'm told to, and I don't obey. She's the only parent I have left, and sometimes it's as if I just bite the hand that feeds me.. I get annoyed when she asks me what I'm doing after high school. I get upset when she keeps telling me to eat. I get depressed and withdrawn when she tells me I should never let myself get so dependent on someone that I actually need them around to survive, as sound and wise as that advice is.
I take for granted what she did in attempts to keep the family together when she was still married to my dad. He once stabbed her with an ink pen and I had wondered what she did to deserve it, instead of being appalled by the fact that my mom was stabbed by my dad. I always assumed my dad was right. I always thought he was the perfect father.

My father was an alcoholic. A pretty bad one. But I loved my dad more than anyone. He was my dad. He showed that he cared about me more than anyone else did. Maybe. Maybe he wasn't that good of a father.. Allowing me to take hits off his weed. Of course, I never did it but once. Allowing me to drink his beer at four years of age. I loved the taste back then, and he didn't deny me it.

But my dad, I loved him more than anyone. He was always there for me to share my problems with, he always wanted me to be happy. He was always there to comfort me in my tears, and always there to laugh with me.

When I was over the summer of 2001 visiting my mom, he died. I remember the day so well.

It was July 3rd, 2001. I had been at my mom's house for about a week or so now (maybe more), and it was boring as hell. My dad had called and talked to me for about thirty minutes, but he said he wanted to talk to my mom for a while, and told me not to let her hang up the phone after they were through because he still wanted to talk to me. He sounded serious, as if whatever he had to say later was imperative. I was too retarded to realize this, and after I noticed my mom was no longer on the phone, and the phone was back on the receiver, I didn't bother to call him back.
Later that day, my little brother Zach and I went next door to play with fireworks and stuff. That night, we were eating pizza over there, and my mom called. She told me to come home because she had something really important to tell me, and I had asked her if she could just tell me over the phone. No, she couldn't, of course, in retrospect. So she told me after I get done eating, to come back. So Zach and I finished our pizza and came back to her house. I was so happy walking up the stairs to the porch, entering the living room. I had a pretty awesome fun day. As I stepped in, I noticed my mom and step-dad were standing in the kitchen. I was too happy to recognize their somber dispositions, and cheerily asked them what it was that was so important.

Jesse said, "You want us to just tell you??" (At this point I knew something could be.....)

So my mom told me, "Your father passed away this afternoon."

Whatever happiness I felt was gone instantly, replaced by some choking void I felt in my chest as I tried to fully grasp what she had just said.. I tried to recover from the shock, but instead I broke down, covering my hands with my face as tears started streaming before my mom pulled me into her arms.

My dad was going to get married July 4th (the next day) to a woman named Nancy Sumter. They had only known each other for a few months, and I was upset they wanted to get married so soon. AND--they decided to marry after only spending a couple HOURS together!! I didn't ever think she really felt anything for him. I saw her again, moping around at my dad's house after my mom brought me back for a while and left me there with my brothers. I asked her if she was okay, and she blew up in my face, screaming at me that no, of course she's not okay.

Only a week after the funeral, Nancy was already with another man.

But I guess it doesn't matter.. For the rest of the summer, Aaron, Patrick and I stayed with my Aunt Shannon and Uncle Tony in Rush Springs. Then we went to a week of torture at Falls Creek.. It sucked miserably.

Aw..

Why does no one comment anymore?

Hopeless

My brother Aaron and I are a lot alike, more so than I thought. I've pretty much walked in his footsteps all my life. He has been my role-model all this time. Even after an expanded amount of time apart from each other, it amazes me how similarly we handle situations and react to things. And my voice is like a feminine remake of his..

One difference I noticed between Aaron and I though, is how we think about the past. Aaron doesn't like to dwell on the past, while I can't seem to pry myself away from it. Not that I have regrets.. I don't have to regret anything. I think about the past because it's more comforting than thinking about the uncertainties of the future. But I don't mean just MY past, but also the past of others who are close to me. Sometimes it pains me when I think about how some people's past doesn't involve me at all.

There's this uneasiness I feel. I share this feeling with what seems only one other person; Ryan. He realizes the complexity of my situation, and he understands the consequences of any choices I make probably even better than I do.... It might even kill him more than it would me.... He's seemingly more aware than I am, although I just told him about it all hardly even two weeks ago. Ryan knows me pretty well.. He knows how hard it is for me to get along with my mom, and he also knows how much I would hate it if I became like her.

But after analyzing the direction in life I'm taking, it appears that's the only outcome for me. I feel like I'm doomed to a life without accomplishments.. And Ryan sees it mapped out as clearly as I do.

It's cute not to think or speak of the important life-changing matters, but it's also fucking ignorant. Ryan asks me if I've given some thought to it.... Of course I have. He has no idea how much I've thought about it.. Or maybe he does. I'm getting sick to my stomach just thinking about all this....

The day before Dave left to go to the Navy, I broke down and cried. He asked me if there was anything on my mind, he asked me if there was something bothering me..

You see, Dave was about to leave, and he would be gone for a very long time. I didn't want his mind to be burdened with worry, so I wanted to lie to him, I wanted to tell him nothing was wrong, that everything was great. But I couldn't. I couldn't say anything. I attempted to fake a smile, but it crumbled as I started crying (loudly), and I buried my face in my hands.

All because I'm feeling trapped.

Carnival

I sat down on the merry-go-round and Rocky came along and started pushing it. Usually going around as fast as I was, I would've felt horribly sick, especially after eating so much cotton candy. But I wasn't really fazed at all. Rocky was unhappy because his ex-girlfriend was at the carnival with Josh Middleton. I could tell he was incredibly upset because he kept pushing the damn merry-go-round faster and faster. So fast, I had to struggle to hold on.

To get away from all the crap happening at the carnival, Casey Simpson and I went walking around town until it was time for my second bingo shift. Casey had been in California for a LONG time, working. He told me all these crazy stories and he said he's going to go to college in Tulsa after he gets through with AIT. I asked him what field he was going to go into for the Army, and he told me Chemical Operations. Wow!!!!!!!! Makes me think back to when Casey dropped that penny in those chemicals in Mr. Bailey's chemical storage lab and caused a deadly smoke to spew from the bottle. How fitting.

Chris and Casey came back to the carnival after they left to come get me. They brought me home and we watched the Family Guy movie. Wesley and Courtney were here.

One thing that annoys me is people entering my room while I'm asleep. Casey did that at like, 4:30 this morning. He kept telling me to get out of bed, because everyone was falling asleep and he didn't want to watch The Amityville Horror alone. So I half walked, and he half dragged me out of my room and into the living room. I woke up at 3:00 this afternoon on the living room floor.

Today was the OU and Texas game. I don't know what the score was, or even who won, I don't usually watch OU football, but I wanted to today...... and I completely forgot. OU has always beat Texas, but I hear OU hasn't been doing that great at all as of late, so I wanted to see for myself. I mean, they lost to UCLA...... Wow...... I remember when I was a Sophomore, I had to work at Frontier City theme park on the day of the OSU and OU game. I was pissed. OU beat OSU 52-9........ Ouch. However, OSU's doing a lot better this season and it looks as if OU is getting suckier. A lot suckier. OU's mascot is one of those covered wagons. OSU's mascot is a cowboy. OSU's mascot could ride OU's mascot.

MySpace

I spend way too much time on this site lurking and generally making fun of idiots. I have come up with some conclusions based upon vague stereotypes of people's pages I view. Although it is deemed ignorant and politically incorrect, you the readers of this know that general stereotyping can be quite fun. If the things I am about to point out offend you, please feel free to (1) delete me (DO IT ASSHOLES), (2) Drop dead, or (3) go stick an elephants trunk up your ass.

1. WOMEN (and I suppose gay men) WHO LIST "TANNING" AS ONE OF THEIR GENERAL INTERESTS: These people should be immediately sterilized for listing the slow roasting of their skin as something that occupies their life. I think I should list "whitening" as something I enjoy but fear that others would label the term "racist."

2. THOSE WHO LIST BET AS THEIR ONLY ITEM UNDER "TELEVISION": Do I need to explain this one any further?

3. THOSE WHO HAVE PICTURES OF 40 OUNCERS AS DEFAULT PICS: These are the tools of society who think partying is either an artform or some sort of self-expression. Don't get me wrong, I am a 17 year old woman who sometimes drinks these massive bottles of watered down alcohol, but I don't take pictures of them as if they are some sort of GOD.

4. PEOPLE WHO HAVE NUMEROUS PICTURES OF THEIR CARS OR MOTORCYCLES: These are the members of the "he who dies with the most toys wins" club. Due to their lack of self-confidence and basic mental skills, they feel the need to collect fancy toys for all the world to see. There might be a tinge of jealousy from me here due to the fact that I don't have toys like that. Oh well.

5. PEOPLE WHO POST PICTURES OF MY DEAD FRIEND AS THEIR OWN AND ARE NAMED GARY: (this is just an excuse to bust your balls Mark R.) You are a Jesus loving yet Jesus scapegoating follower. Not only is your brother hot, but so is your DAD. The reason you are the luckiest bookmaker I know is because of your rapidly balding head. (Bookmaker like Simon & Schuster *wink*wink*) When you get to HELL after me you be will be eternally tortured by being force fed onions and mayo by a gum cracking stripper who is as black as coal and resembles Patrick Ewing's long lost twin sister. After you get done reading this and eating your fried chicken, get in your mini-van and go bet your 1-2 chalks at the racetrack you cheap motherfucker! Hahahaha! By the way... what 21 year old single guy owns a mini-van?

6. PEOPLE WHO HAVE MAJORITY OF THEIR PICS AS CLOSEUPS OF THEIR TATTS AND PIERCINGS: These are the bottom feeders of the MySpace gene pool. Ever been to a 24-hour WAL-MART at 2am and see the assholes who bring bring their 6-year-old children with them? These are those people. Its bad enough I get to view multiple blurry pics of your homemade tatt00s on this site, but I don't need to hear your bastard children utter phrases such as "Mommy, can you buy me the 24 pack of Mountain Dew?" (official drink of the white trash) as I attempt to do some nocturnal shopping.

Hmm..

Josh Bond is engaged to become married. So is Shannon Presley.

But they're not engaged to each other..

I don't know why this bothers me, but it does..

They broke up after three years. Then they start dating someone else and two months in they're jumping to get married.

What is the point of marrying when you're so young? Both of them are nineteen...... How I see it, I think it would be best to marry in the mid-twenties, at the earliest. If you're dating someone and you want to marry that person, what's the point in marrying as soon as you possibly can? That's stupid.. If the relationship is good, it'll last a good while before tying the knot.. I guess it's that some people feel insecure and want to feel as if they have some stability in that area of their life. It just seems pretty foolish to me..

And as I was telling Anabel about this, she was surprised and said, "But I thought you and Josh were together!" (Hahahahaha)

After explaining that no, that was entirely NOT the case, she was kinda upset about it. Upset that Josh and I weren't together. Upset that he would get engaged "after all the stuff he and I have been through." We haven't been through much.. Just a lot of flirting during my Sophomore year (during which he and Shannon were still together, so I figured it pointless anyway) and a single, rather disappointing, prom date.

Anyway I hope they know what they're doing.

La Cuña del Limón

Here I am, sitting in the library, listening to the live version of Pure Evil by Iced Earth.

I hate it. It sounds way better on The Night of the Stormrider album.. John Greely did a lot better with the vocals than Matt Barlow. I'm not saying Matt Barlow sucks, he's great, but I don't like him singing that one.. I hate how they speed it up live, the quality sucks. It sounds a lot like crap, in my opinion.

I love that song............ on the Stormrider album.

I'm not really a fan of live music anyway.


There's an FCCLA district meeting today. I think I'm in FCCLA, but I'm not sure. I paid my dues. I'm not going to the district meeting though, it's dumb. And the FCCLA advisor is Mrs. Grayson.. It's weird though, now that she's not the yearbook advisor anymore, she's been really nice to me. I haven't said but two or three words to her though.


Man, this sucks. I was opening this CD case and it was one of those ones that after you open it once, you can open another part of it.. well, I broke the second part after trying to get the CD out of the thing. What a cheap piece.. I barely even did anything and it broke like nothing. Oh well. Not like they're my favorite CDs anyway.. Though it was really cool to be able to open the thing twice but NO! Not anymore! Gosh.


I've been reading a lot lately.. I don't know why. I used to read a lot when I was in like, eigth grade. This book I'm reading is really, really, good. It's called East and it was written by Edith Pattou.

When I was putting away books today, I looked at this book called Verdi. It's a fourth grade reading level book, but it looked really interesting, so I read it. It was good. It was about a snake named Verdi who did lots of crazy things when he was young, and he never understood why older snakes would just coil up on tree branches and just lay there all day. Then one day he got hurt or something and decided to coil up on tree branches as he grew older as well. Then one day, some young snakes came along and remarked about how boring he was and that he probably never even moved. So Verdi got up and had fun with those youngins. Truly a touching story.


I have this big tear on the ass of my jeans. It's big enough to stick my hand through, not that I would do such a thing for any purpose other than to see if I could.............

I remember when the hole first appeared. It was tiny. It was because I have had them for so long. One day, during my Sophomore year, my friend JaLisa said something about my panties being blue. I was like, "Yeah, how'd you know?" And she told me of the hole. I really like these jeans though..... So I've never thrown them away. The hole got a lot bigger after sitting in this chair at school that had a loose screw or something in it.. It got caught in my jean hole, and as I started to stand up, it tore.


I really like the song Burnt Offerings a lot.


I hate my Computer Technology class. I hate that class so freaking bad.. it's not hard or anything, it's just........... I don't know...... It's really, very boring and difficult to stay on task when I'd much rather be doing other things..........


Yesterday, I discovered that the number of people I can trust are even fewer.... And in helping one cover up a betrayal, another was made..... and bewteen best friends, no less.

Oh well. What can you do, you know?

A Whole Wheel of Cheese

My mood has been changing constantly lately. I was really happy today, and not just because I went to an OSU football game.

I was thinking about why the hell I was feeling so crummy during my last post. It didn't make sense to me, because I don't think there was really a legitimate reason to be so unhappy. Sure, I was lied to--a lot--but it doesn't matter.

So, I've told myself to stay happy, or pretend to be happy if I don't have a good reason to be sad. Now, I know it's not good to pretend to be something you're not, but when I'm unhappy for no reason, I tend to be a bitch, and I regret it later. I'm sure people don't like talking to me when I'm a bitch. So...... if I don't have a decent reason to be a bitch, I'm not going to be one, even if I just "feel like it", because I don't think that's a good enough reason. Rejoice! ^.^

It sucks.. Subjects I would usually feel laid back talking about are beginning to irritate me. Like, when people joke about women being subordinate back in the old days.. I used to not care. But now it bothers me. A lot. It's not funny. I'm tired of hearing guys say that's how it should be again, even if they're just playing around. All we were good for were childbirth and housework. I find that rather disheartening.

Another subject that bothers me now that didn't so much before is religion. I used to be a Jehovah's Witness. It was cool.. Except for the whole going door-to-door thing, that sucked, which is why I never did it but once. And if I were to believe that any religion would be the "Path to Salvation," I would go with that one. But I'm more of an Atheist than anything nowadays. Sometimes, I might question the possibility that maybe there is a god, but usually I just don't. I'm fucking sick of people pushing their beliefs onto me, as if their telling me that my way of life is wrong will actually succeed in manifesting faith within me.... You're just going to make me hate you even more than I did before (if I did before, and if I didn't hate you before, I would just hate you).

The other day, I was walking by some people, my friends, in the hallway at school. They were standing outside a room waiting to be interviewed for an FCA (Fellowship of Christian Athletes, if you live a sheltered life and didn't already know what that stood for) officer position. Someone asked me if I was applying for a position, and I was like, "No. I'm not even in FCA." They asked why I wasn't in FCA and I told them I was an Athieist, and after enduring their blank stares for a few seconds, I added, "...I don't believe in god."

They don't even talk to me anymore. Well, one of them still does, but I think she thought I was joking, maybe. But that's stupid though.... They all got along great with me before they knew I didn't share their beliefs. It's not like I'm a Satan worshipper--I don't believe in him either.

Anyway, my point is, I think religion should be an entirely private part of someone's life. I think people should go to great lengths to keep their religion and beliefs out of other people's lives.

I'm glad though.

Oh wait...... It's Saturday night......... Which means tomorrow is SUNDAY! And that means the day after is MONDAY! Which means a whole new week of school.. I wish I had a clone to send to school, along with my other reason. Or at least go every other day and send the clone every other day I didn't go. That would be cool, because I can't skip too much or I'll fail, which means I won't graduate, which means I'll either have to repeat this year or settle for the unrewarding life of an undergraduate or whatever. Sundays suck.

Questionable

I'm tired of waking up every morning. I'm tired of being here. I'm tired of feeling so unmotivated that I just lay on my bed for hours, doing nothing but waiting and thinking, probably making things seem worse than they really are.

I'm tired of being lied to. I'm tired of realizing I'm being lied to, because I'm thinking maybe I'd be happier if I wasn't smart enough to catch on..

When you lie to someone, you belittle that person's intelligence.

But someone doesn't need to tell me something just to make me feel better. I don't need a fucking ego boost. Someone doesn't need to tell me something because they think it'll make me like them more, because it's not going to happen.

Why lie to me like that? Why say that to me? When I think back to previous conversations, it makes no fucking sense!

I've never been so confused in my life.

There are probably five people in the world who I truly give a shit about.

I'm sick of responsibility, while also sick with envy of those who can slough it off. Sick of the apparent lack of concern for important and life-changing situations.. Sick of the lack of serious approach to serious matters.. I'm sick of myself for having to struggle to see what others seem to view so clearly.

I don't know what to do.

By now, I'm not sure if there's anything I would do. Maybe it's best to just leave it up to chance. And if chance crushes what I have, then maybe it's best to just sit back in torment as I watch my happiness burn away like a New Year's bonfire..

It isn't fair.

Though a lot of things have been made evident, there are still even more questionable concerns..

I'm so nervous..

Aries Horoscope
You're following your dreams--literally. Images in your sleep are showing you the way.

If that's the case, then in about five or six months, my life is going to hell.



```Actions speak louder than words, and words can lie. Actions can be, and commonly are, misunderstood, but they never lie.```

Moral Decay

I stayed up very late last night sitting at my desk. I used so much ink on one drawing.... An incredible amount. I was completely committed to make this creation perfect..

It was, undoubtedly, the best drawing I have ever made..

I signed it before holding it up in the light to get a better look at it.

So beautiful..

An unbelievable amount of effort was consecrated into it..

Six hours.... For six straight hours, I sat at my desk leaning over a piece of paper, making it alive, making it into something good, obsessing over every meticulous detail..

I went into the livingroom in hopes to find a frame for it because I loved my creation so much. I couldn't find an empty frame. I opened a can of Pepsi, and as I lifted it up to my mouth, I stared at the drawing on the table..

I brought the drawing outside, set it down gently on the front walkway, looked upon it proudly, and poured Pepsi all over it..

I made damn certain that every bit of the godforsaken masterpiece was soaked with soda..

Then I stomped on it, over and over and over.....

I stopped and picked it up. It was dripping and torn beyond recognition..

It will never be the same again.

It took me six hours to create, but only a mere thirty seconds to completely destroy.



So alas, in reality, my co-created masterpiece..... Worked on for what seems a long, long time.. It now has a sense of impurity and inevitable decay..

It will never be the same again.


Perhaps I do think too much.. But I guess better too much than not enough.

Rules of Hygiene

1
If going out, and there will be hot girls/guys there, shower. There is no exception to this rule. I don't care if you live in a river with hot springs shooting Tide up your ass. You shower before you leave the marsh, dipshit. Unless you're going to a family reunion in Alabama, the girls aren't going to find your stench attractive. You'll be able to tell because they'll start taking fewer breaths and slowly develop a blueness to their complexion. This is not because they like you. This is because you smell so foul that they've decided to sacrifice air.

2
Brush your teeth. I know this may sound like a lot, but brushing your teeth twice a day works miracles! Your breath smells better, people don't pass out when you talk, your teeth lose that brown hue, and you stop getting bitched at by those damn whiney liberals who think you're in the NRA.

3
Use soap. This one is primarily for you men out there (although some of you women should read this as well). Soap smells good, cleans you up, and gets rid of the shit you inevitably got on your fingers because you use the medieval hand-wipe technique to clean yourself up.

4
Wear clean clothes. This one is simple. Clean your clothes. Wear them. Then, the next day, take off those clothes, shower, and put on new clothes. This brings me to my next point . . .

5
Shower on a daily basis. There's this kid I know who doesn't shower. Everyone hates him. We throw rocks at him and call him mean names like "Smelly-Pants" and "Poopoo-Head". He cries every night when he gets home. Yesterday he hanged himself.

6
Learn this useful point. Cleanliness is partially arbitrary. Learn it well. Some things are just made up for no reason at all, like "wash your hands" and "don't roll around in horse shit". You just have to go along with these things because otherwise people will think you're weird. Or dirty. Let me tell you a little story about a weird kid I knew:

story
I knew a weird kid. No one liked him, cause he didn't follow what everyone else said. He smelled horrible. He had horrible hair. I even saw him leap headfirst into a garbage dumpster once.

One day, I said, "Donald, you smell horrible."

He said, "Really? I never knew!"

I said, "Yes, you really do."

So he took out a gun and blasted himself in the face.

Get my point?

7
Do not roll around in horse shit. I know it's tempting. I've been tempted to do this many times myself. Alright, I'll be Frank (if you be Estelle), I've done it once or twice myself. But at least I showered afterwards.

8
Do not drink your own sweat. It's filthy, it's nasty, and it tastes like dirty, salted water. Do not drink it. You can drink your own urine, that's sterile, but sweat is disgusting. If you drink your sweat, you've fallen to the level of sweat bee on the food chain. This is just above bodily excretions.

The Temerist Manifesto

We have found ourselves lost in a never-ending quest to find meaning in life. We have been convinced that life must have a meaning and will have a meaning, if only we could but find it. There must be a divine plan to it all, for nothing meaningful can go unplanned.

Life is meaningless. This is not meant to be disheartening nor meant to be taken as a plea for the mass suicide of all the human inhabitants of our planet (although I must admit this would solve many of the problems we currently face—overpopulation for one). Life is meaningless. These words should bring joy and gladness to your hearts, filling you with endless possibilities of ways to fill the now vacant hole for the rest of your physical existence! Life is meaningless. Don’t get lost down the hole of oblivion, searching for the single Truth. There is no single Truth. There is no meaning to anything beyond that which we have imposed upon it. A line of literature can have as many meanings as intelligent minds exist (the fact this leaves us with four or five meanings is irrelevant).

Life does not inherently have any meaning. The meaning must be created, fabricated, conjured, chosen by the particular person whose life it is. Your life and her and his lives will have completely different meanings. The meaning is created, artificial. It is a simplified representation of an unsimplifiable series of events, emotions, thoughts, feelings, persons, places, ideas, ornaments, colors, hopes, and dreams that can never be explained or given meaning, as meaning can never be adequately given to this elusive thing we term “life”, life is meaningless.

Life is not pointless, however. Life is very pointed. Needles and sharks' teeth. But the points don’t matter. The points are irrelevant. All our lives can have points. The point is the purpose. The purpose of life is unique to that life. It is possible one’s life may serve only to help someone else have a better life. Other than that this person’s life may be wasted, and serve only as a large “DO NOT ENTER” sign before a giant pit of failure and destruction, a “Do Not Try This at Home” notice on the bottom of the screen showing a drunken truck driver run over seventeen cars and a motorcyclist. He was an alcoholic and did nothing with his life. He died and took with him thirty-seven others. Is this person’s life pointless? On the one hand he has caused no one knows how many people to think the slightest (if at all) bit about driving drunk, and has possibly saved someone else from this same fate. On the other hand, his life was wasted on booze and liquor. Was his life pointless? The truth is, it doesn’t matter. A point or purpose is an objective. As life is not finished until death; no one can ever adequately say what the true objective of the life was until the person in question is on his or her way to a grave or an urn, and by then, the question is as important as the favorite color of your great-great-aunt’s dog, Fluffy. Maybe this color was very important to Fluffy. He loved this color and basked in its comforting wavelengths..... But Fluffy is dead, and so is the old bat.. It is inconsequential.

In short, life’s point cannot be discerned until the life has ended. When the life has ended, the point is useless, as it no longer exists.

If life has no meaning, and the point of life is irrelevant, that rope is looking awfully tempting. But don’t tie it up and secure it to that tree branch just yet. If life is both meaningless and pointless, that means we are free. We are free from having to find the One Ultimate Truth. We can be perfectly content in our ignorance, knowing no one can truly ever know. If Ponce de Lion knew the Fountain of Youth did not exist, do you think he would have dedicated his life to searching for it? By damn, no he wouldn’t! Maybe he’d enjoy himself a little more. He’d stop being so preoccupied with this youth spring and focus a little more on the here and the now. He’d play games and get drunk and go to bars and shoot some hoops with the boys.

Do this. Enjoy your life. From now until the day you die. Pick up a few sports, get your body in shape. You’ll need it when you’re eighty-two years old trying to set the land speed record on a tricycle. Proceed into the vast unknown of the future with a remarkable arrogance and heedlessness. Cry out to those who may scorn, “I don’t know where I’m going, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell me!” Life is more exciting this way! Life is more fully lived. Life is merely the postponement of the inevitable meeting with death. Why not brush up with this grizzly fellow a time or two? Why not push life to its utmost limits? Why not be able to say, “I did whatever the hell I wanted and I damn right loved (and lived) every minute of it!”?

Lay down your metal detector, you fool! You’re on a beach! Stop searching for gold and jump in the damn water!

Counterproductive Misery

When I take a step back and look at my problems, I have a chance to take them all in at once.. And in truth, all my problems are revealed to me how small they actually are. Everyone is so concerned with their own problems.. Concerned with minor details that have no influence on anything of real importance in existence.

A lot of people tell me they care about me.. What good does that do for anyone? What would it matter if something happened to me? Or them? The world would still go on as always.. without a bit of change in pace whatsoever.

If I had never existed, no one could really say something was missing, could they? Or.. If I died today, what would things be like in a year from now? In five years? Does it even matter? I would think not. This world just keeps getting worse, and we just keep bringing more and more people into it.

I'm not afraid of death, but I really don't want to die..

Ever.

And I don't want to grow old. I want to stay young forever.. But a lot of people share that desire, and so far nothing has been accomplished to acquire that dream.

But it's a waste of time for me to think about stuff like that.

I find myself thinking about that kind of shit that's probably best not thought about, and it makes me feel so incredibly miserable, and there's nothing I can do about it anymore. I've sealed my own fate by doing that time after time, and it's all I seem to know by now..

I don't know why I keep doing that to myself and to others. But again, when all is looked upon in proper perspective, it doesn't matter at all. I don't know what it is about me. Perhaps change makes me feel uneasy. Maybe I'm just too accustomed to my old ways. It might be that that isn't the proper perspective to be looking through.

Humans have so much potential. Potential we can never use.

If only we'd stop letting our emotions get the best of us.

...But then what kind of ravenous creatures would mankind be?

Another Day

I don't know why I keep posting here everyday.. It's pretty pointless as I just ramble about how much things suck. But it's something to do, so oh well.

Today wasn't so bad, I guess. First block, I put some books away like every other day. It's not hard work, but it still sucks because I don't like doing it, because I want to do other things, like play around on the internet or something.

Second block (Computer Technology) sucked as always. I was sitting at my designated computer this time, so that's good. I was doing a crossword puzzle and as I was flipping through the book thing for answers, my mind kept wandering to.... other things. Other things that cause me to turn all the pages in the book without paying any attention to finding answers for my crossword. So I had to keep trying and every time, my mind kept wandering to more fun things I'd rather be doing.... Needless to say, I didn't get much work done. I don't really care, because daydreaming rules.

I didn't go to lunch. I didn't feel like eating, though now I'm somewhat regretting it. I'll just eat some Peanut Butter Crunch when I get home, because it's gooood......... I hope we have milk. Last time I checked, there was only a little bit left in the container, so hopefully my mom went to buy more.

Speaking of my mom, being friendly to her is difficult, but I'm somehow managing to do that, and very well, might I add.
Well, she was a little diappointed that I didn't wake my little brother Zach up this morning to go to school.. I didn't think he was going today because he was sent home for having pink eye yesterday.

Speaking of pink eye.. I've had it twice in my life -- once when I was in third grade, and another time during the summer after my Freshman year. Both times sucked. In third grade, I got it just the day before the big Christmas party.... I had to go home and stay home for twenty-four hours. I'm still mad about that. The other time, my friend Jeri and I got it together. First, she got it, then I did. We went to the mall with her step-sister Amanda, and Amanda's friends thought Jeri and I were stoners.

Speaking of things I've had, chicken pox is not one of them. I'm seventeen years old, and I haven't had them yet. Oh well.

Third block (A.P. English) wasn't so bad. I was twenty minutes late to class though. But as usual, I laughed a lot in that class, mainly because it consists of people like Aaron Anderson, Aaron Daggs, Wesley Walker, Rachel Oestman, and me, and some other people. What a lovable bunch.

Right now, it's yearbook time. Ms. Shuckei (previously referred to as "Ms. Fuckface") let us have a free day because she has a lot of paperwork to do. Hmm.... Yep.

That means Newspaper is next, and that's the last period of the day. And that also means that I have to get to work on my stories, because I, like always, have yet to start them until the day they're due....... I'll write them here in a few minutes though..... Also, I need to stop procrastinating so much.

I don't understand.... I used to be so self-motivated, but now I feel like I couldn't care less. I want to care, but it's like, why care? I should work on that.

Today is the last day of August.

...Last day of August. That means tomorrow is the first day of September, which means that the ACT Workshop is tomorrow too. And the day after that would be the second day of September, which means that Senior Pictures are to be taken that day. I have to be at the school at 6:45 in the morning on Friday. It sucks. I don't even get up until seven.

And if Friday is the second day of September, that means that Sunday will be the fourth day of September, which means my friend Ryan will be nineteen years old. And if that Sunday is the fourth, then that means that the Monday following the Monday that follows that Sunday of Ryan's birthday, that Monday will be my brother Aaron's birthday, as it shall be the twelvth day of September, which means Aaron will be twenty-one.

Anyway.. I'm in my Newspaper class right now. It's hard to believe there's only eight members on the staff this year. Last year, there was like, twenty. Eight isn't so bad, I guess.

My friend Aaron Anderson works at the Taco Mayo located in Chandler, Oklahoma, a nearby town. I was horrified to hear what goes on in peoples' food over there...........

...In the sour cream, ranch dressing, pico de gallo, tomatoes, on the spatulas, in the nacho cheese, guacamole, soda cups......... I will give more information upon request.

But Stefanie, she works at the Taco Mayo in Cushing, another nearby town, and has assured me that nothing of that sort goes on there. I'm just glad I've never eaten at the Chandler Taco Mayo..

Man, I hate not knowing plans that I'd be totally interested in....

Speaking of plans.... if I'm ungrounded by Friday night, then I'm going to have so much fun. Time to welcome the old ways, mwuahahahaha!! But if I'm still grounded, oh well.

Well, this class, this day of school, is now drawing to an end, and I must return to my home and lounge in my room with a bowl of delicious Peanut Butter Crunch...... and finish writing a letter, an essay, and two newspaper stories. ^_^

*sigh*

God this sucks. So did not want to come to school this day, but I don't want to miss any more days just because I'm feeling lazy or some shit like that. Besides, I plan on uses my excused absences for something else..


Anyway, this is fucking sad. Why the hell am I on the internet at school? Pretty much everything interesting or fun except blogs are filtered out. Just goes to show that I'm addicted to the goddamned internet.....

Work in the library sucks more than ever because that Irish guy left yesterday.... He did a lot of work, and now I'm going to have to finish it. I don't even know what the hell he was doing, but oh well.

Well, here I am in the library. And if Beaver doesn't stop coming in here every morning and if he doesn't stop attempting to have conversation with me every time he sees me, I'm going to slaughter him, devour his puny, vacant mind, and use his spinal chord as fucking dental floss. I could probably do that pretty easily, since I have these gargantuan gaps between my teeth.

Beaver's real name is Adam, but some people call him Kyle, and then there's the majority that call him Beaver. He kind of looks like that kid from Leave it to Beaver or whatever. He's a Sophomore. He's annoying as hell, and that thick southern accent of his is too much. And if he touches me one more time, or pulls my headphones off again, I'm going to fucking slap his face with this damned keyboard.

Now, if you'll all excuse me, I have to go do a pointless job of organizing and shelving books. Have an awesome day!

Oh and something else..........

If anyone ever wants to chat with me during school, get on the chatroom in LCDLC. I can't promise I'll be on every minute of the school day due to the fact that I'm, you know, probably supposed to be doing schoolwork, but still.

Fucking nails..

I swear I'm going to go home today and chop off my damn nails because it's so damn hard to type on this piece without hitting the keys above my fingers! This post is going to take forever to effing type because I'm using this damn pen to press the keys..... My nails aren't even that long, they're moderately long, but the keyboards on laptops suck; the keys are low and close together.....

Today sucks.

First block, in the library, it sucked. I was so damn tired because I was too pissed off and depressed to sleep last night. As I was shelving books, I, for some reason, kind of grabbed the edge of this shelf and somehow pulled it down a little to where a shitload of books piled onto my drowsy godforsaken face.

Second block, in the computer lab, I find some fat Sophomore hoe sitting at my designated computer. Ms. Fuckface told me to sit somewhere else so I had to start all my lessons over on some piece of shit computer, and it wouldn't print my damned documents.

Right before lunch, I was told to turn my T-shirt inside out because the design was inappropriate for school. Fuck no it's not. I'll wear what I want and when, where and how I want!

Third block was okay. Actually, it was great. I laughed so much it hurt.

Yearbook and Newspaper are boring as hell, but oh well.

But everything else sucks ass!

I feel like everyone I care about is upset with me, yet all I can do is sit here and bitch about my sucky-ass day.

I'm fucking great.

Boo Berry

Ponder the wise words of an Irishman: A day without a book is like a day without sunshine.

Being an assistant in the library isn't all that great like I hoped it would be.... Mrs. Cawfield assured that I would have little work to do, but that was when we were under the assumption that we'd be in the new high school by the beginning of this school year. But you know what happens when you make assupmtions.... You assume things, that's what happens. And when you assume things, you make a resumé...... And when you make a resumé, you get a job, and when you get a job, you get paid, and when you get paid, you buy things, and when you buy things, you have those things either for yourself or for someone else. Or instead of buying things after you get paid from working at your job you got with your resumé after assuming, you can just save the money in case you need it sometime in the future.

I realized something....

I don't have a center point to my life.. My life doesn't tend to revolve around one major thing.... So when something new and big comes into my life, it looks as if it's the only thing there because everything else is cast in shadow. I can't think of anything but that something. And whether or not that's good, I don't know.

When someone asks me what's so unique about me, what can I say? I don't know what it is that's special about me.

Other people, they have their sports, their music, their art...... What do I have?

Hmm, I guess when you look this good, you don't need anything like that. *wink*

But everyone assumes that I'm all about art; drawing and painting and the like.... It's not a big part of my life at all. Maybe I should make it one..... But I don't know if I want to.

I looked at my horoscope today, just like every other day I remember to:

Aries
March 20 - April 18
8/25/05
A new and exciting potential love relationship could pop into your life today, dear Aries. This is apt to be the kind of instant attraction that sets your nerves tingling and your blood boiling! Whether or not you decide to pursue this attraction, of course, depends on your situation, but whatever you decide, you're likely to enjoy feeling the thrill of it today. Therefore, make sure you look your best when you go out! You'll be glad you did!

How dumb. Hell yeah it depends on my stuation...... Usually my horoscopes are more meaningful and accurate. (I bet not a one of you would have ever guessed I look into horoscopes.)

Here's another for today from a different source:

Your life is in flux right now, and you're yearning for some degree of permanence. If dropping hints about inheriting a family heirloom doesn't work, try looking for a project that will let you craft heirlooms for yourself. (Family heirloom? What the hell..?)

It's more important to take the right action as opposed to taking any action at all. Figure out what the real problem is before you start expending your energy willy-nilly. You'll see much better results.

You are coming into the world from a very strong position today, so milk it for all it's worth. You can get people to agree to almost anything.

This is a day for all amorous hopes: your senses and your heart will vibrate in unison, your magnetism will be intense and your power of seduction will increase tenfold. (Too bad it's going to go to waste....) In your work, you'll be able to go around obstacles. Those natives who're vulnerable to rheumatic ailments will have to take special precautions this time. Your imagination will be more fertile than ever, and you'll hit upon ideas that will astonish many people.

My 2005 Overview (This one scares me..)

OVERVIEW: As the year begins, Aries, your focus will quickly shift from play to work -- hard work. After the 10th of January, in fact, it will be tough to talk you into doing anything other than putting your nose to the grindstone. You'll be able to reach your goals more easily, though, so it will be well worth your time and energy to put everything else aside -- for now, at least. Once March arrives, however, you'll be far more interested in taking care of your health and appearance -- and you'll do a great job of it, too.

A solar eclipse in early April will make this a month to remember, and if you're single, this astral equation could also indicate a new relationship. Keep your eyes open after the 1st of April for someone who's extremely sensual and quite focused -- on you! (Holy shit..) Be sure they're not too focused, though. You know how you get when you feel smothered.

Summer will be an entirely different story. By July, you'll be enjoying lots of freedom, travel, and new experiences. (Word.) Keep your passport current and your suitcases handy. The full Moon of August 19th will also bring along a chance for you to start a new hobby. Don't pass this one up!

By fall, you may be thinking of making a major career move -- one that's entirely possible. After the 17th of October, you may also be making your way along a whole new relationship path. Either way -- or both ways, perhaps -- you'll enjoy this new start, and so will those who choose to accompany you. The holidays look just wonderful, full of lots of good feelings and lots of surprises under the mistletoe. A new Moon on New Year's Eve will put you in the mood to get back to business after weeks of festivities. Go for it!

Weird as hell....

I'm not too into astrology.. Just a little. I won't be all like, "Uh, the stars say we're not compatible, so get the hell away." That's just dumb.

My mom set my bedtime every night to eleven.... How gay. She used to not give a crap how late I stayed up as long as I was able to get up in time the next morning to get ready for school.... which is what I've been doing every goddamned morning. But she's mad at me for taking naps when I get home from school, because she says these naps I've been taking cause me to stay up late again the next evening. So anytime she's aware of me napping in my room after school, she wakes me up and yells at me.
Last night I went to bed at midnight-thirty though. There was no way in hell I was going to go to bed at eleven after waiting two hours to talk to my boyfriend, to whom I hadn't gotten a chance before last night to speak with since Saturday. I would have only had like, twenty minutes if I went to bed at eleven. Fuck that. I was pissed.
My mom tends to take up a ton of phone time each night. Like, two hours usually. But she said she'd try to minimize her calls down to thirty minutes a night, but it doesn't happen.

My mom and I have never really gotten along. I can hardly wait to get the hell out.

I shouldn't wear tight shirts anymore. Or at least not very often. I should wear more T-shirts. And blouses too, I guess. I noticed that when I wear tight shirts, I look slutty. Though my guy friends tend to disagree. Ugh... I don't want to have my goods on display. >_> =P

Now I feel weird.... because I think there are more guys that read my blog than girls..... Oh well.

Damn.... Gotta go to Computer Technology class here soon. Stupid stupid stupid......

I wonder how many newspaper stories I can get done today. They're due today for paste-up, but I still have two to finish. I already helped Wesley out with two, and writing two more will be easy.

Idiot bell...

And someone wrote on my locker today that I was hot and sexy..... but whoever it was, they spelled my name wrong. v_v

And I'm disappointed..... very strongly disappointed..... that my brother Patrick will be attending AIT in TEXAS. Fucking Texas... Nobody likes you but Texans, Texas.

I'm also disappointed to know that I have a southern accent. A slight one, but an accent nonetheless. I never noticed until I went to Michigan. I guess that's what I get for living in Oklahoma for the better part of seven years.... I hope it doesn't get worse.

I live in Oklahoma. Wow. I remember when I lived in Missouri, I would be all excited to get to go to Oklahoma to visit my grandma. Well, now that I live here, the excitement just kind of drifted away.. Oklahoma's cool and all.... but whatever.

Yearbook Ad Selling

......Sucks ass.

------------------------------------

All right.. Just got back from yearbook ad selling, and as usual, it sucked ass. This is my second year on the staff, and I almost wish I would've somehow gotten out of it. We also went ad selling last Thursday. It was incredibly hot outside as we were walking along the busy streets of Stillwater. Today in Chandler, it was raining. It has been raining on and off for days now. Like, it'll be all rainy and cold in the morning, but in the afternoon, it's all sunny and hot. Gotta love Oklahoma weather....
But today wasn't so bad, really. I went selling with Brittni Holsinger, her step-mom, and Ryan Dawson. Which was awesome if you can manage to look past the fact that we we're AD SELLING. I got it good, though. It could have been so much worse.... I could have had to go with Tommy Horlacher, or Rebekah Pruitt....... *shudder* I'm such a bitch.. ^_^

Anyway, when we go ad selling, we pretty much have to hit up every business we have in the past, plus some new ones we've never tried before.

Today, I realized how screwed up our yearbook was last year. On one of the ads, there were two misspellings. (Don't look at me, I didn't put the ad pages together, nor did I edit them.) It was supposed to read "Murcer's Jewelry", but instead, it reads "Mercer's Jewelery". The woman was rather irritated by this. And on one double-page spread, there are three ads that are on there twice each.. Way to go '04-'05 yearbook staff, true winners.

When I got back to school, just in time for third block (A.P. English), I had a golden opportunity to cut the rest of the school day. Did I though?

No. I'm still here.

Chris and Wesley were outside over by the school talking so I went to chat with them. Chris was taking Wesley home, and they were talking about how Aaron Anderson beat the shit out of Mack Richardson.... Because Mack punched a girl in the face sometime over the weekend. So, Aaron's suspended for a few days. It happened right by my locker too, but I didn't get to see it because I was wasting my life selling yearbook ads.... *sigh*
Anyway, Chris was about to leave and he asked me if I wanted a ride home. I said yeah, but I changed my mind. I have newspaper stories to work on. Plus, my mom is really mad at me because of a fight we had last night. I don't want to go home to that again anytime soon. Oh well.

Oh well. I'm back here in the library. I should probably be working on newspaper stories, as I owe Mrs. Giblet four now.. Being senior editor is so damn easy. All I have to do is edit other students' stories and write two of my own each week. Regular staff members have to write three a week....... Crap, I just remembered that I told Wesley I'd write one of his, because he owes six, and I felt sorry for him. Well, I better get to work............... sometime before it's too late.

My feet hurt....

Wearing fancy shoes + Walking = Stupid.............. and achy feet.

Yeah, we have to dress up really nice to go selling ads. The dressing up is fine, I like that, but not when it comes to the shoes. Ask anyone who knows me, flip-flops are what you'll see me wearing 95% of the time.... Unless it's winter. So now, I'm not even wearing any shoes because I forgot to put flip-flops in my purse before I left this morning.... And because I don't want to wear my dressy ones. Last Thursday, I put some flip-flops in my purse and wore them while ad selling while Mrs. Shuckei (yearboook advisor) wasn't looming around. I love being bare footed at school. It's refreshing, you know?

Hmm, I just learned a bit of Oklahoma history that I hadn't learned in my Oklahoma History class which I took my Sophomore year.... This may be due to he fact that I was always playing around with my friends or sleeping in that class.... but whatever.
Anyway, this Irish guy is telling me about Oklahoma and its panhandle thing. Originally, it wasn't a part of this grand state. It was originally part of Texas, but during the Civil War, that piece of land was dictated as "free land", and Texas was a Confederate state. Now, the state had to be either entirely Confederate, or entirely Union. So, Texas sloughed it off. After all that, no one reclaimed it. Texas didn't want it back, Oklahoma didn't care for it, Kansas said no, and New Mexico didn't want it either. So, for a while, it was just a territory, where outlaws would hide out due to the lack of authorities. But eventually, Oklahoma was forced to take it, otherwise, neither Oklahoma nor the panhandle land would be ratified as states.... so yeah. It was at least a little interesting.

If General Mills would make a peanut butter flavored cereal, they could call it Zombie Butter. You know, to go along with Franken Berry, Boo Berry, and Count Chocula. Heh, "Zombie Butter".... That's rich.

Went to Sonic for lunch today. I got a Fire Island burger, the new one they've been advertising. I have a banner that advertises it hanging up in my room across from the Dollar General banner that is advertising milk. Chris stole for me the Dollar General one, then Wesley and I stole the Sonic one together. I like the banners very much.

What I don't like very much though--what I hate--are these things:

- Yearbook ad selling
- Time
- Mrs. Grayson
- Texas
- Computer Technology classes
- Fancy shoes that make feet hurt
- Tomatoes
- Watered down soda as a result of a moron putting too much ice in it
- People who make promises without intentions of keeping them
- Kellogg's Golden Smacks cereal
- Red dirt
- Other things

Franken Berry

My class schedule for this year.

Fall / Spring
Block 1: Library assistant / Biology I teacher assistant
Block 2: Computer Technology I / Computer Technology II (I want so badly not to take these, but being a senior and considering the fact that seniors tend to get screwed when it comes to the time layouts of the classes, I don't have much of a choice..)
Block 3: A.P. English / Geometry
Period 4: Yearbook
Period 5: Newspaper

In the library, I'm helping out with Mrs. Cawfield, who is usually running the library. She's also the A.P. English teacher. She's really nice and easy to talk to.
The computer classes are instructed by Mrs. Shuckei, the business teacher, who also happens to be the new yearbook advisor. I'm not really as happy about that though, because even though Mrs. Grayson is a bitch and all that, I liked the general way of how she would run things. There were six people on the yearbook staff last year..... Now there are seventeen or so. Most of them being annoying, idiot-head Sophomores.
Geometry is going to be taught by Mrs. Cagle. She's all right. Getting kind of old and blind, but she's a great teacher.
Newspaper is instructed by Mrs. Giblet, Stefanie's mom. And I'm the senior editor of the staff. Woo.
Then when I'm an assistant in Biology I, I'll be helping out Mr. Bailey. He's the coolest teacher here, in my opinion. I won't have to do anything besides make copies and grade papers every great once in a while. The rest of the time I'll probably be walking around the halls doing practically nothing or at Mr. Bailey's desk playing on his computer.

I hate my computer class. It's gay. I'm the only senior in there.. There aren't even any juniors. There's one Sophomore. Then the rest are Freshmen. And they all somehow know my name, while I have no clue as to theirs. Unlike most seniors and other students above the status of a Freshman, I don't condemn Freshmen.... just because they're Freshmen. Certain individuals in the Freshman class, however, I do condemn, because they're morons.

"Artistic"

Last night, I got incredibly bored so I decided to draw something. When I started the drawing, my ink pen was completely full. Now, it has less than half the amount of ink in it. I'll scan it sometime and put it on here, maybe. I like it a lot, it took me an hour and a half to create.

It was the first thing I had drawn in months.

A long time ago, I forgot why it was I would draw and paint.... but last night, it really came back to me as I was drawing.

Is it not odd how marks on a piece of paper can resemble something we are familiar with in our lives? Sometimes, I like to draw angels. My drawings that depict angels are not angels.... they're strategically-placed marks that allow one to notice the resemblance between the stereotypical image of an angel and the marks I've created on a sheet of paper.

I find it so strange that someone can be so gifted enough to do that. Yet, I'm also surprised that not everyone has the ability to do so, because I always used to believe they just lacked the will.

A lot of people would call me an artist. Or they would call me artistic. I didn't see myself that way, so I would tell them time after time to stop saying that. And I was usually not very nice about it.

Last night, one of the very few people that I allow to watch me draw said to me, "You're such a great artist."

I slightly blushed and said, without thinking, "Thank you."

That really made me stop and think. Is it fair for me to tell others not to call me as they see me? Is it not common sense to describe a person who creates art artistic?

I guess the reason I didn't want to be called an artist is I thought it would be more difficult to get somewhere in life with it, at least, in the way I would want to, so I tried to stop building on what artistic talent I had.

It seems that even after months, one's talent still remains firmly intact. I didn't care if it did, and honestly, I hoped it would slip away forever.

I'm glad now that it didn't. I forgot how happy it makes me to see the end result turn out just as I had wanted.

I don't know what exactly it is I plan on doing for the rest of my life. I have almost no idea what career I have in mind.. But I'm almost certain I'm not going to be an artist of any sort. I don't want to make a career out of that, because it's not always something I enjoy doing.... Though the thought of creating a graphic novel entices me..

Anyway.. To sum up pretty much this whole post, I'm getting more into my artistic talent.

Some Thoughts

Some thoughts have been in and out of my mind a lot lately.

What if life isn't really what you think it is? Has anyone else ever thought about that? What else could life be?
The turn of the century.. and not to mention the millenium. That surely would be a date in history. Here we are, we've experienced it. However, future generations wouldn't know, to the degree that we do, what that was like....
What if there was a way to forget all about your life and experience a whole new one? What if there was a way to experience an entire lifetime in the span of, like, five minutes or something? It's said that technology advances twice as much every eleven years.. So, if you were to experience a different life, forgetting all about your own, making connections with various people.... When you return to your own life, do you remember those people you connected with? Would you feel at a loss being without them, even while knowing they never truly existed?

Another thought:

Certain material items in the world hold a lot of value to each person. What makes that item so precious?
Is it possible that one's soul can leave an imprint, or an essence of itself, in the items we hold close to our hearts? Maybe that's why it's so hard throwing out things we used to love. Assuming this is true, a child's teddy bear that has been owned by that child for a long time will have more soul in it than a recently purchased one.
And when holding certain people close to our hearts.. Would it be for the same reason? Could it be that your own soul is leaving impressions on theirs, and theirs having impressions on yours in return?
When something is created, a piece of artwork, a song, a piece of literature..... Is your soul put into whatever it was you created?
When I find drawings that I've made a long time ago, even though they lack the quality of my more recent ones, it's difficult for me to get rid of them. I can't throw them away. I may set them down in the trash, only to find myself later retrieving it..... and placing it in a drawer with the others among its age.

Yet another thought:

A lot of religions and ways of life call for a balance of good and evil. Or light and dark. Yin and Yang.... The Force.... Each representing the balance.
When Satan was cast from Heaven, it was because he wanted to become equal with God. How is that evil? Is that really so bad?
When you think about it, a balance between light and darkness is impossible. What is darkness other than the absence of light? When you turn on a light in a room, the darkness that once filled that room is gone. Darkness can NEVER overpower light.... It just can't happen.
It's the same with heat and cold. Cold is the absence of heat.
So, would that mean that evil does not truly exist? Is evil just the absence of good? It is said that the only evil are good men who do nothing.