I am unable to please. I set down my insecurities and my pride, attempting to put forth a semi-valiant effort to try, and I endeavor to assist those around me to find a relative state of contentment, but I can’t do it. Every angle is the wrong one, and every approach that I take is inappropriate. I am not troubled by this, however; when my desire to comfort is pure and sincere, I am assured in the fact that the confusion and happiness is one that cannot be repaired by me simply because the cause of such angst is something or someone other than myself. I give what I can, and that is all I can do. That is all that I care to do because it is unfair to ask me for more.
I have my friends that comfort me, that help me, but their enrollment in my recuperation is brief. I am appalled to find myself feeling this way, but after building so many well-planned walls and deceiving faces its frustrating to have to deal with the complete candidness of others. My source of strength is not found in anyone on this earth, and if I am ever consumed by the intrinsic gloom of the world I climb out of my black depths alone. Why must I always be the happy one? Why is the voice that greets me on the other side of the phone so dejected and drenched in self pity half the time? Do they have any freaking idea how all-embracing my despair can be? To play this off and to pretend does nothing but pull a sheer curtain over the problem, thereby allowing neglect to swell and magnify the pain. If they knew how truly strained my voice is at times when I laugh and try to lift their spirits, all while wiping the tears from my eyes during the chat on my cell, trying so hard to cheer.
Every time I jump from elation to despondency and back again I break. The panic that sweeps over me every time I feel this is sinister. It hurts. I realize, however, that the world can’t solve my problems. Why would I attempt to dump my cares on anyone else when only I can do anything to alter or obliterate them?
I don’t. Why does everyone else?
Monday, May 31, 2004
I’ve decided to write more poetry. It just seems like the logical thing to do. My lackluster attempts at a novel died and died hard, but perhaps I simply started too big. I shall start with verse. Yes, that’s what I’ll do…verse… Honestly, what type of self-respecting person isn’t a poet? In poetry all things are discovered and found. How absolutely corking it is. There are many reasons for poetry, and yet so few boundaries. It can go horrendously wrong if done incorrectly, true, and there are mounds and mounds of bad poetry, but I like the idea. hehehe
Mum and I are going house shopping tomorrow. I really don’t want to stay in the valley; the word is my playground and how I yearn to play! Utah is silly, what type of geese would stay in Utah? Silly goose…
Yawn. I’m tired. What I am writing is so scattered and senseless, and I’m bothered by it. I’ll go ahead and post it, however; one’s view of me must be complete if it is to be correct.
Mum and I are going house shopping tomorrow. I really don’t want to stay in the valley; the word is my playground and how I yearn to play! Utah is silly, what type of geese would stay in Utah? Silly goose…
Yawn. I’m tired. What I am writing is so scattered and senseless, and I’m bothered by it. I’ll go ahead and post it, however; one’s view of me must be complete if it is to be correct.
Sunday, May 30, 2004
I entered a poem into a contest today. It was interesting; I rarely write poetry, and when I do I guard it like a precious disease. But if I'm not open with my blog, then why would I bother to write in it?
Plea
Why must you press me?
Isn’t it enough to know that I won’t speak?
My thoughts are my thoughts,
my one belonging;
these utterances that dance within me
are the pillars of my certainty.
Do not push, my love:
be patient and wait and then,
only then, can you claim
that you know and love me.
Do not pull me.
Please, my passion, my dear,
do not demand.
My adoration will melt,
will soften and spread and grow thin,
dripping and fading away,
running from you
fluidly, promptly,
completely.
And like snow in the early spring
I will leave you dry and warm,
safe for a season,
but alone.
Plea
Why must you press me?
Isn’t it enough to know that I won’t speak?
My thoughts are my thoughts,
my one belonging;
these utterances that dance within me
are the pillars of my certainty.
Do not push, my love:
be patient and wait and then,
only then, can you claim
that you know and love me.
Do not pull me.
Please, my passion, my dear,
do not demand.
My adoration will melt,
will soften and spread and grow thin,
dripping and fading away,
running from you
fluidly, promptly,
completely.
And like snow in the early spring
I will leave you dry and warm,
safe for a season,
but alone.
Once again, I am awake at an extremely ungodly hour of the morning. Today I’m going to church with Carter, then I plan to proceed to attend my church as usual, which means I’ll be at church for 7 hours today (I kid you not- I’ll be with Carter from 10.00 to 1.00, then I will be at my church from 1.00 to 4.00, and then I’ll be at a leadership meeting until 5.30, so in all actuality I will attend church for 7.5 hours today) If I O.D on veneration, send in a recovery mission and retrieve me.
Tonight I hung out with Jo& co. Don’t exactly know what to think. Surprisingly enough, I had fun. It was surprising. Hence the adjective preceding the word “enough”. It’s a good thing I’m not redundant, huh?
I haven’t seen Carter much this week. This makes me sad; I like seeing my Carter. But oh well, since his parents took his truck back to their cabin I finally see how big a problem transportation can be. He’s really down right now. It appears as if he’s been as such for the last couple of weeks, or at least when he’s talked to me during this time, which comprises around a third or a fourth of the time that I’ve known him. It’s truly weird to think that I met him a month and a half ago. It’s also weird to think that I met him at a party at Frank’s house, of all places. This is amusing; yesterday Abbey and I discussed the problem of meeting people on a UTA bus. Generally this is simply a terrible idea for many reasons, which are made apparent the second one chooses to view the occupants of the bus. Usually smelly, dirty, and fond of talking to themselves, those who ride UTA make a diverse, yes, but odd and brooding crowd. You don’t make approaches when on a bus, you just don’t. It doesn’t matter how beautiful or nicely-clothed they are, it’s an unwritten rule that they are off limits as long as they are sitting on the worn blue fabric of a UTA bus seat. It’s kind of the same dealie with a party at Frank’s house: you know some people but you don’t attend to “meet” someone. Come on, it’s Frank. Interesting guy, yes, but not one to establish communications through.
I’m tired. I woke early today (7 freakin’ O’clock, it was dreadful to be up at such an ungodly hour of the morn) and I’m pretty much beat. I have to wake up early tomorrow, too; I’m going with Carter to his church at 9:30 and then attending mine (that’s like 8 hours of church. I am SO going to heaven…) and I’ll have to wake up around 8. This is my long weekend! Why can’t I sleep in? Why?
Oh- yes. Mum and I went house shopping today. We went all over the valley and saw a multitude of gorgeous houses, and it hit me for the first complete time that I’m moving. In four weeks we have to be out of the house, and I’ll never again wake up to see the sun pour through my familiar window, falling over me as the friendly birds chirp and whistle to greet me. I have 4 Saturdays left, 4 more times this will happen to me. How I’m going to miss it! I’m glad we sold the house and made such a wonderful profit (50 grand, heck yeah!) but I’m going to miss it all the same. If I were silly and sentimental and attached this would just break my heart, but fortunately I’m not, so I’ll stand back and say “Pity”. Honestly. Either that or “huh”, in memory of our dear friend George Costanza.
I think I shall retire to bed now. Perhaps I’ll eat first, but hopefully not, considering that I’m not hungry and that I’d be eating just for the sake of eating itself, which is pathetic. I’m going to run to bed before I succumb to the beckonings of the random artificial-flavored pastries that inhabit my cabinet. Run AWAY!!!!
I haven’t seen Carter much this week. This makes me sad; I like seeing my Carter. But oh well, since his parents took his truck back to their cabin I finally see how big a problem transportation can be. He’s really down right now. It appears as if he’s been as such for the last couple of weeks, or at least when he’s talked to me during this time, which comprises around a third or a fourth of the time that I’ve known him. It’s truly weird to think that I met him a month and a half ago. It’s also weird to think that I met him at a party at Frank’s house, of all places. This is amusing; yesterday Abbey and I discussed the problem of meeting people on a UTA bus. Generally this is simply a terrible idea for many reasons, which are made apparent the second one chooses to view the occupants of the bus. Usually smelly, dirty, and fond of talking to themselves, those who ride UTA make a diverse, yes, but odd and brooding crowd. You don’t make approaches when on a bus, you just don’t. It doesn’t matter how beautiful or nicely-clothed they are, it’s an unwritten rule that they are off limits as long as they are sitting on the worn blue fabric of a UTA bus seat. It’s kind of the same dealie with a party at Frank’s house: you know some people but you don’t attend to “meet” someone. Come on, it’s Frank. Interesting guy, yes, but not one to establish communications through.
I’m tired. I woke early today (7 freakin’ O’clock, it was dreadful to be up at such an ungodly hour of the morn) and I’m pretty much beat. I have to wake up early tomorrow, too; I’m going with Carter to his church at 9:30 and then attending mine (that’s like 8 hours of church. I am SO going to heaven…) and I’ll have to wake up around 8. This is my long weekend! Why can’t I sleep in? Why?
Oh- yes. Mum and I went house shopping today. We went all over the valley and saw a multitude of gorgeous houses, and it hit me for the first complete time that I’m moving. In four weeks we have to be out of the house, and I’ll never again wake up to see the sun pour through my familiar window, falling over me as the friendly birds chirp and whistle to greet me. I have 4 Saturdays left, 4 more times this will happen to me. How I’m going to miss it! I’m glad we sold the house and made such a wonderful profit (50 grand, heck yeah!) but I’m going to miss it all the same. If I were silly and sentimental and attached this would just break my heart, but fortunately I’m not, so I’ll stand back and say “Pity”. Honestly. Either that or “huh”, in memory of our dear friend George Costanza.
I think I shall retire to bed now. Perhaps I’ll eat first, but hopefully not, considering that I’m not hungry and that I’d be eating just for the sake of eating itself, which is pathetic. I’m going to run to bed before I succumb to the beckonings of the random artificial-flavored pastries that inhabit my cabinet. Run AWAY!!!!
Saturday, May 29, 2004
THE SECOND BOOK OF NEPHI
CHAPTER 8
In the last days, the Lord shall comfort Zion and gather Israel—The redeemed shall come to Zion amid great joy—Compare Isaiah 51 and 52:1-2. [Between 559 and 545 B.C.]
1 HEARKEN unto me, ye that follow after righteousness. Look unto the rock from whence ye are hewn, and to the hole of the pit from whence ye are digged.
2 Look unto Abraham, your father, and unto Sarah, she that bare you; for I called him alone, and blessed him.
3 For the Lord shall comfort Zion, he will comfort all her waste places; and he will make her wilderness like Eden, and her desert like the garden of the Lord. Joy and gladness shall be found therein, thanksgiving and the voice of melody.
4 Hearken unto me, my people; and give ear unto me, O my nation; for a law shall proceed from me, and I will make my judgment to rest for a blight for the people.
5 My righteousness is near; my salvation is gone forth, and mine arm shall judge the people. The isles shall wait upon me, and on mine arm shall they trust.
6 Lift up your eyes to the heavens, and look upon the earth beneath; for the heavens shall vanish away like smoke, and the earth shall wax old like a garment; and they that dwell therein shall die in like manner. But my salvation shall be forever, and my righteousness shall not be abolished.
7 Hearken unto me, ye that know righteousness, the people in whose heart I have written my law, fear ye not the reproach of men, neither be ye afraid of their revilings.
8 For the moth shall eat them up like a garment, and the worm shall eat them like wool. But my righteousness shall be forever, and my salvation from generation to generation.
9 Awake, awake! Put on strength, O arm of the Lord; awake as in the ancient days. Art thou not he that hath cut Rahab, and wounded the dragon?
10 Art thou not he who hath dried the sea, the waters of the great deep; that hath made the depths of the sea a way for the ransomed to pass over?
11 Therefore, the redeemed of the Lord shall return, and come with singing unto Zion; and everlasting joy and holiness shall be upon their heads; and they shall obtain gladness and joy; sorrow and mourning shall flee away.
12 I am he; yea, I am he that comforteth you. Behold, who art thou, that thou shouldst be afraid of man, who shall die, and of the son of man, who shall be made like unto grass?
13 And forgettest the Lord thy maker, that hath stretched forth the heavens, and laid the foundations of the earth, and hast feared continually every day, because of the fury of the oppressor, as if he were ready to destroy? And where is the fury of the oppressor?
14 The captive exile hasteneth, that he may be loosed, and that he should not die in the pit, nor that his bread should fail.
15 But I am the Lord thy God, whose waves roared; the Lord of Hosts is my name.
16 And I have put my words in thy mouth, and have covered thee in the shadow of mine hand, that I may plant the heavens and lay the foundations of the earth, and say unto Zion: Behold, thou art my people.
17 Awake, awake, stand up, O Jerusalem, which hast drunk at the hand of the Lord the cup of his fury—thou hast drunken the dregs of the cup of trembling wrung out—
18 And none to guide her among all the sons she hath brought forth; neither that taketh her by the hand, of all the sons she hath brought up.
19 These two sons are come unto thee, who shall be sorry for thee—thy desolation and destruction, and the famine and the sword—and by whom shall I comfort thee?
20 Thy sons have fainted, save these two; they lie at the head of all the streets; as a wild bull in a net, they are full of the fury of the Lord, the rebuke of thy God.
21 Therefore hear now this, thou afflicted, and drunken, and not with wine:
22 Thus saith thy Lord, the Lord and thy God pleadeth the cause of his people; behold, I have taken out of thine hand the cup of trembling, the dregs of the cup of my fury; thou shalt no more drink it again.
23 But I will put it into the hand of them that afflict thee; who have said to thy soul: Bow down, that we may go over—and thou hast laid thy body as the ground and as the street to them that went over.
24 Awake, awake, put on thy strength, O Zion; put on thy beautiful garments, O Jerusalem, the holy city; for henceforth there shall no more come into thee the uncircumcised and the unclean.
25 Shake thyself from the dust; arise, sit down, O Jerusalem; loose thyself from the bands of thy neck, O captive daughter of Zion.
CHAPTER 8
In the last days, the Lord shall comfort Zion and gather Israel—The redeemed shall come to Zion amid great joy—Compare Isaiah 51 and 52:1-2. [Between 559 and 545 B.C.]
1 HEARKEN unto me, ye that follow after righteousness. Look unto the rock from whence ye are hewn, and to the hole of the pit from whence ye are digged.
2 Look unto Abraham, your father, and unto Sarah, she that bare you; for I called him alone, and blessed him.
3 For the Lord shall comfort Zion, he will comfort all her waste places; and he will make her wilderness like Eden, and her desert like the garden of the Lord. Joy and gladness shall be found therein, thanksgiving and the voice of melody.
4 Hearken unto me, my people; and give ear unto me, O my nation; for a law shall proceed from me, and I will make my judgment to rest for a blight for the people.
5 My righteousness is near; my salvation is gone forth, and mine arm shall judge the people. The isles shall wait upon me, and on mine arm shall they trust.
6 Lift up your eyes to the heavens, and look upon the earth beneath; for the heavens shall vanish away like smoke, and the earth shall wax old like a garment; and they that dwell therein shall die in like manner. But my salvation shall be forever, and my righteousness shall not be abolished.
7 Hearken unto me, ye that know righteousness, the people in whose heart I have written my law, fear ye not the reproach of men, neither be ye afraid of their revilings.
8 For the moth shall eat them up like a garment, and the worm shall eat them like wool. But my righteousness shall be forever, and my salvation from generation to generation.
9 Awake, awake! Put on strength, O arm of the Lord; awake as in the ancient days. Art thou not he that hath cut Rahab, and wounded the dragon?
10 Art thou not he who hath dried the sea, the waters of the great deep; that hath made the depths of the sea a way for the ransomed to pass over?
11 Therefore, the redeemed of the Lord shall return, and come with singing unto Zion; and everlasting joy and holiness shall be upon their heads; and they shall obtain gladness and joy; sorrow and mourning shall flee away.
12 I am he; yea, I am he that comforteth you. Behold, who art thou, that thou shouldst be afraid of man, who shall die, and of the son of man, who shall be made like unto grass?
13 And forgettest the Lord thy maker, that hath stretched forth the heavens, and laid the foundations of the earth, and hast feared continually every day, because of the fury of the oppressor, as if he were ready to destroy? And where is the fury of the oppressor?
14 The captive exile hasteneth, that he may be loosed, and that he should not die in the pit, nor that his bread should fail.
15 But I am the Lord thy God, whose waves roared; the Lord of Hosts is my name.
16 And I have put my words in thy mouth, and have covered thee in the shadow of mine hand, that I may plant the heavens and lay the foundations of the earth, and say unto Zion: Behold, thou art my people.
17 Awake, awake, stand up, O Jerusalem, which hast drunk at the hand of the Lord the cup of his fury—thou hast drunken the dregs of the cup of trembling wrung out—
18 And none to guide her among all the sons she hath brought forth; neither that taketh her by the hand, of all the sons she hath brought up.
19 These two sons are come unto thee, who shall be sorry for thee—thy desolation and destruction, and the famine and the sword—and by whom shall I comfort thee?
20 Thy sons have fainted, save these two; they lie at the head of all the streets; as a wild bull in a net, they are full of the fury of the Lord, the rebuke of thy God.
21 Therefore hear now this, thou afflicted, and drunken, and not with wine:
22 Thus saith thy Lord, the Lord and thy God pleadeth the cause of his people; behold, I have taken out of thine hand the cup of trembling, the dregs of the cup of my fury; thou shalt no more drink it again.
23 But I will put it into the hand of them that afflict thee; who have said to thy soul: Bow down, that we may go over—and thou hast laid thy body as the ground and as the street to them that went over.
24 Awake, awake, put on thy strength, O Zion; put on thy beautiful garments, O Jerusalem, the holy city; for henceforth there shall no more come into thee the uncircumcised and the unclean.
25 Shake thyself from the dust; arise, sit down, O Jerusalem; loose thyself from the bands of thy neck, O captive daughter of Zion.
Every soul has his or her limits. There comes a time when the pressure and the pain overwhelms you, when the confusion leaves you so lost that you lose all hope and cease to care. There comes a time when the battle dies down, and the opponent you love so dearly begs on bended knee, yet you can’t stop. The knowledge of right and wrong that you possess does nothing but burden you further, the responsibility of truth presses down on you so hard that you have no choice but to raise the knife and plunge it again and again into the gasping chests of those you adore. They plead in front of you, after giving their life and possibilities for you, but you can’t stop. You feel unworthy of humanity, you feel low and dirty and typical, in a land where heroes lie few and far between, extinguished suddenly and forgotten quickly.
Do I see point in preserving those around me? When I am consumed by my rage and the inequity that surrounds me I can’t, I simply can’t care. I see no worth in what I have to lose, so I bet it all.
And yet, through this thick mist of anguish and alarm my solace beams with brilliance unrivaled. My strength, my rock stands true. What I know is unchanging and dependable, and for this I am grateful.
I think Carter’s right: It takes much more faith to be an atheist than a Christian or a Buddhist or any type of individual that believes in a deity. How can one’s faith lie in the hand of man? How can a race so frail and delusional be trusted? How can you look into your life and know that your meaning lies in only what you see?
My savior, my comfort. I love thee and I will love thee forever. If I trust in thee I cannot fail, and you shall comfort Zion’s wasteplaces.
Do I see point in preserving those around me? When I am consumed by my rage and the inequity that surrounds me I can’t, I simply can’t care. I see no worth in what I have to lose, so I bet it all.
And yet, through this thick mist of anguish and alarm my solace beams with brilliance unrivaled. My strength, my rock stands true. What I know is unchanging and dependable, and for this I am grateful.
I think Carter’s right: It takes much more faith to be an atheist than a Christian or a Buddhist or any type of individual that believes in a deity. How can one’s faith lie in the hand of man? How can a race so frail and delusional be trusted? How can you look into your life and know that your meaning lies in only what you see?
My savior, my comfort. I love thee and I will love thee forever. If I trust in thee I cannot fail, and you shall comfort Zion’s wasteplaces.
Friday, May 28, 2004
Oh Blogger! You sexy, sexy program, you. So much better than live journal! So much! So very very much! Yay blogger!
Of course I'll be cursing you again the second my ineptitude befuddles my blogging experience, but until then you're just dandy in my book!
I’ve discovered photo-blogging, you see, and I can almost use it completely. How absolutely lovely! Pictures on a blog! Who knew? There are some things that continue to perplex me, mainly one thing: I want to put my picture on my profile and simply don’t know how. How do I find the URL to the picture that blogger posted for me? Where did it go? Where is the URL? Did I lose the URL? What happened to the URL? I grow discouraged about the URL (yes, Al Franken, we love you…).
This is definitely NOT good for my blog, though. Finally all of you will see how truly narcissistic I am. I kid you not. I am completely in love with myself, I am. I could lie to you and pretend to be humble and all that jazz, but what’s the point? I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now. I am THE MOST SELF CENTERED PERSON IN THE WORLD! Starving children in Africa? What did you say? Oppressed refugees back east? Poor defenseless animals? What? You’re not speaking my language, darling. I understand the following, and the following only: ME! Wheeeee…..
Yeah….I’m a bad person….Oh well. At least I flaunt it and revel in it. Surely there’s some merit in that.
I’m going to go see if I can fix my profile. Then eat a pop tart. Then pass out on my couch.
OH! The possibilities!
Of course I'll be cursing you again the second my ineptitude befuddles my blogging experience, but until then you're just dandy in my book!
I’ve discovered photo-blogging, you see, and I can almost use it completely. How absolutely lovely! Pictures on a blog! Who knew? There are some things that continue to perplex me, mainly one thing: I want to put my picture on my profile and simply don’t know how. How do I find the URL to the picture that blogger posted for me? Where did it go? Where is the URL? Did I lose the URL? What happened to the URL? I grow discouraged about the URL (yes, Al Franken, we love you…).
This is definitely NOT good for my blog, though. Finally all of you will see how truly narcissistic I am. I kid you not. I am completely in love with myself, I am. I could lie to you and pretend to be humble and all that jazz, but what’s the point? I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now. I am THE MOST SELF CENTERED PERSON IN THE WORLD! Starving children in Africa? What did you say? Oppressed refugees back east? Poor defenseless animals? What? You’re not speaking my language, darling. I understand the following, and the following only: ME! Wheeeee…..
Yeah….I’m a bad person….Oh well. At least I flaunt it and revel in it. Surely there’s some merit in that.
I’m going to go see if I can fix my profile. Then eat a pop tart. Then pass out on my couch.
OH! The possibilities!
I’m feeling adventurous right now. I’m tired and dead but I feel like running and breaking against the wind, diving into spontaneity. I’m feeling abstract and misunderstood, but I’m happy this way. I don’t think I’d ever appreciate someone who didn’t find me to be a puzzle, complex and strong in her concealed existence, yet always about to collapse.
These feelings could mark a significant change in my life, or could just be what happens when you listen to Portishead while you write. What are you going to do?
I’m going to go watch a movie and pass out on my couch. I’m so pissed off right now- the internet on our beautiful computer isn’t working, and the connection on the crappy computer works but it’s so slow I can barely surf. Argh!
These feelings could mark a significant change in my life, or could just be what happens when you listen to Portishead while you write. What are you going to do?
I’m going to go watch a movie and pass out on my couch. I’m so pissed off right now- the internet on our beautiful computer isn’t working, and the connection on the crappy computer works but it’s so slow I can barely surf. Argh!
Wednesday, May 26, 2004
Physics was amazing today. We began the class with an interesting lab; we made ice-cream in a conventional ice-cream maker and related it back to conduction and states of matter and all that jazz. It was fun, and we made some killer strawberry ice-cream. The most stupefying bit of it, however, began when Mr. Christiansen pulled out the liquid Nitrogen and pouring it on the tables and fun stuff like that. It was awesome.
So Carter’s kind of depressed right now. His school won’t let him walk in graduation because he failed some classes and has to make up credits. It’s sad, but at the same time it’s what happens to those of us who slack off. It’s a beautiful life, yes, but it does have its consequences. I can’t say I understand the depression, though. I’m choosing not to walk because it’s absurdly inane. As if I’m going to pay money to rent an incredibly unsightly cap and gown so that I can suffer through the 3 hour graduation ceremony. I would pay money to not go! I’m apathetic that way, what can I say…
I’m going to go work on drivers-ed, and then go running. I leave you dearies now, bubye!
So Carter’s kind of depressed right now. His school won’t let him walk in graduation because he failed some classes and has to make up credits. It’s sad, but at the same time it’s what happens to those of us who slack off. It’s a beautiful life, yes, but it does have its consequences. I can’t say I understand the depression, though. I’m choosing not to walk because it’s absurdly inane. As if I’m going to pay money to rent an incredibly unsightly cap and gown so that I can suffer through the 3 hour graduation ceremony. I would pay money to not go! I’m apathetic that way, what can I say…
I’m going to go work on drivers-ed, and then go running. I leave you dearies now, bubye!
Tuesday, May 25, 2004
Annie Lennox
Keep Young And Beautiful Lyrics
What's cute about little cutie?
It's her beauty, not brains...
Old father time will never harm you
if your charm still remains...
After you grow old baby,
you don't have to be a cold baby...
Keep Young and Beautiful,
It's your duty to be beautiful...
keep young and beautiful,
if you want to be loved.
Don't fail to do your stuff
with a little powder and a puff.
Keep young and beautiful if you want to be loved.
If you're wise, exercise all the fat off,
take it off, off of here, off of there...
when you're seen anywhere with your hat off,
wear a Marcel wave in your hair...
Take care of all those charms,
and you'll always be in someone's arms
keep young and beautiful if you want to be loved.
Disgusting, yes, but so hillarious!
Keep Young And Beautiful Lyrics
What's cute about little cutie?
It's her beauty, not brains...
Old father time will never harm you
if your charm still remains...
After you grow old baby,
you don't have to be a cold baby...
Keep Young and Beautiful,
It's your duty to be beautiful...
keep young and beautiful,
if you want to be loved.
Don't fail to do your stuff
with a little powder and a puff.
Keep young and beautiful if you want to be loved.
If you're wise, exercise all the fat off,
take it off, off of here, off of there...
when you're seen anywhere with your hat off,
wear a Marcel wave in your hair...
Take care of all those charms,
and you'll always be in someone's arms
keep young and beautiful if you want to be loved.
Disgusting, yes, but so hillarious!
Just called my agency. The Acting division is completely swamped with jobs right now and what do the models got? Nadda.
Oh well. The little modeling work that I've done I haven't really enjoyed. The pay is great, but it's somewhat annoying to have so many people swarming about you. I almost prefer to be the swarmer (see 1st job, i.e spag)
Didn't do much today. I have a whole bunch of homework that I have to do, and I really really don't want to do it. Homework is so freaking mormon, you know?
My, how scattered my thoughts are! Here's a little bit of me over here, and some more over there, and LOOK! Behind the barrel- more ME!!! YAY!!! Anyways, my blog is a whore. It's always been as such, and always will be. I'm the blog’s pimp, you see, so our relationship is bittersweet, I suppose. Yeah- I'm a darn sexy pimp, what can I say? Oh yes- why my blog is a whore. On my profile it won't display this blog. It will display the other two which have a whole (you better sit down for this) 5 entries. I want to display this one and it won't let me so it is a whore. Stupid mexican jew lizard.
If I keep on writing I soon going to debase myself to the point that I'll have no reason to exist. So I need to stop. Right.....now!
Oh well. The little modeling work that I've done I haven't really enjoyed. The pay is great, but it's somewhat annoying to have so many people swarming about you. I almost prefer to be the swarmer (see 1st job, i.e spag)
Didn't do much today. I have a whole bunch of homework that I have to do, and I really really don't want to do it. Homework is so freaking mormon, you know?
My, how scattered my thoughts are! Here's a little bit of me over here, and some more over there, and LOOK! Behind the barrel- more ME!!! YAY!!! Anyways, my blog is a whore. It's always been as such, and always will be. I'm the blog’s pimp, you see, so our relationship is bittersweet, I suppose. Yeah- I'm a darn sexy pimp, what can I say? Oh yes- why my blog is a whore. On my profile it won't display this blog. It will display the other two which have a whole (you better sit down for this) 5 entries. I want to display this one and it won't let me so it is a whore. Stupid mexican jew lizard.
If I keep on writing I soon going to debase myself to the point that I'll have no reason to exist. So I need to stop. Right.....now!
Sunday, May 23, 2004
Oh my. I am so very frustrated. So very. The reason is as follows:
Last night Elisse spent the night at my house. We had a splendid time, how I adore that girl! She picked me up from work, we went to emigration and then to Wendy’s. After ascertaining the best and finest grease-slabbed victuals available we went to Uintah elementary school and ate the food, dumped the remains and other trash in the parking lot and drove off. I had a corking time, really.
We watched batman, went to sleep, woke up. We decided to write Rob, and spent the remainder of the afternoon making stamps out of potatoes. (don’t ask- mum’s from Texas, you see…) At approximately 11:41 I get a message from carter:
“Melissa just asked me out…Whoh…Weird”
Alright….What does one say when their boyfriend sends them a text like this? I suppose the possibilities are endless, but honestly, what does one say? Can I be serious about this, truly, can I? Do I remind him “You’re talking to your girlfriend, halfwit.” or what? I decided that the best approach is a comical one, since the question was somewhat lacking in tact. So, I respond, while laughing ferociously with Elisse:
“Go for it! Score!!!”
To be honest, it sounded like a good response at the time. Well, it sounded funny at the very least. I sent this at 11:43. At 11:48, a good 5 minutes later I get:
“Huh?”
I was so very tickled by this. I had to pursue it, honestly I did:
“Take one for the team, my man!”
3 minutes later my phones rings and I pick it up to see:
“Who is this? And where is my girlfriend?” written on the face of my phone. I laugh about this and continue my endeavor to embellish my potato-stamp.
Well, it turns out that a girl asked him out, and upon “seeing my reaction”, he considered it. He called me during church and asked me
C: “What should I tell her?”
Me: “Who? Melissa?”
C: “Yeah”
Me: “well…you kind of have a girlfriend…”
C: “Yes I do, and that’s what I initially intended to tell her, but when you wrote what you did…”
Me (thinking): What? Do you actually think I was serious? Could you not sense the sarcastic jest in which my utterances were saturated? I thought it a given you would say no. You have a girlfriend, smart one.
Me (saying): I was kidding, Carter. Are you actually considering this?
It turns out that he was, and still is. Apparently it would be a double-date, although it initially was a one-on-one kind of deal, the kind of deals that are for SINGLE guys. Hello! Girlfriend! Carter, my love, are you listening? You have a girlfriend, silly. Granted, she didn’t want to become as such, because she doesn’t like to steady date, but she did and now you want to date Melissa?
I told him to go ahead. I am, after all, going to EFY and camp and Cincinnati and all those other fun summer things that are only truly savored if done while in single-tude. And I’m fine with this, but vexed by the fact that on Friday, less than 42 hours ago, he told me that he would love me till the day he died. We had a big long conversation about this, and he said that. He said that he loved me and that he did it completely.
Hello?!?!? Know you the definition of love? Do you, my dear?
Whatever. I’m frustrated. Are guys always this stupid? Are they always the kind of stupid that makes one want to spell it “stoooooopid” just so that the entirety of the stupidity is impressed upon the viewer completely? When you see the word “stooooooopid”, it’s impossible to doubt the stupidity. The stupidity is genuine and undamaged when represented by such spelling. That’s what this is: this incident is “stoooooopid” worthy, which is quite something to be. The stupid is all there. There’s simply not one ounce that lacks stupid, therefore the occurrence is not only stupid, but it is “stoooooopid”.
Honestly, pull yourself together, man!
Last night Elisse spent the night at my house. We had a splendid time, how I adore that girl! She picked me up from work, we went to emigration and then to Wendy’s. After ascertaining the best and finest grease-slabbed victuals available we went to Uintah elementary school and ate the food, dumped the remains and other trash in the parking lot and drove off. I had a corking time, really.
We watched batman, went to sleep, woke up. We decided to write Rob, and spent the remainder of the afternoon making stamps out of potatoes. (don’t ask- mum’s from Texas, you see…) At approximately 11:41 I get a message from carter:
“Melissa just asked me out…Whoh…Weird”
Alright….What does one say when their boyfriend sends them a text like this? I suppose the possibilities are endless, but honestly, what does one say? Can I be serious about this, truly, can I? Do I remind him “You’re talking to your girlfriend, halfwit.” or what? I decided that the best approach is a comical one, since the question was somewhat lacking in tact. So, I respond, while laughing ferociously with Elisse:
“Go for it! Score!!!”
To be honest, it sounded like a good response at the time. Well, it sounded funny at the very least. I sent this at 11:43. At 11:48, a good 5 minutes later I get:
“Huh?”
I was so very tickled by this. I had to pursue it, honestly I did:
“Take one for the team, my man!”
3 minutes later my phones rings and I pick it up to see:
“Who is this? And where is my girlfriend?” written on the face of my phone. I laugh about this and continue my endeavor to embellish my potato-stamp.
Well, it turns out that a girl asked him out, and upon “seeing my reaction”, he considered it. He called me during church and asked me
C: “What should I tell her?”
Me: “Who? Melissa?”
C: “Yeah”
Me: “well…you kind of have a girlfriend…”
C: “Yes I do, and that’s what I initially intended to tell her, but when you wrote what you did…”
Me (thinking): What? Do you actually think I was serious? Could you not sense the sarcastic jest in which my utterances were saturated? I thought it a given you would say no. You have a girlfriend, smart one.
Me (saying): I was kidding, Carter. Are you actually considering this?
It turns out that he was, and still is. Apparently it would be a double-date, although it initially was a one-on-one kind of deal, the kind of deals that are for SINGLE guys. Hello! Girlfriend! Carter, my love, are you listening? You have a girlfriend, silly. Granted, she didn’t want to become as such, because she doesn’t like to steady date, but she did and now you want to date Melissa?
I told him to go ahead. I am, after all, going to EFY and camp and Cincinnati and all those other fun summer things that are only truly savored if done while in single-tude. And I’m fine with this, but vexed by the fact that on Friday, less than 42 hours ago, he told me that he would love me till the day he died. We had a big long conversation about this, and he said that. He said that he loved me and that he did it completely.
Hello?!?!? Know you the definition of love? Do you, my dear?
Whatever. I’m frustrated. Are guys always this stupid? Are they always the kind of stupid that makes one want to spell it “stoooooopid” just so that the entirety of the stupidity is impressed upon the viewer completely? When you see the word “stooooooopid”, it’s impossible to doubt the stupidity. The stupidity is genuine and undamaged when represented by such spelling. That’s what this is: this incident is “stoooooopid” worthy, which is quite something to be. The stupid is all there. There’s simply not one ounce that lacks stupid, therefore the occurrence is not only stupid, but it is “stoooooopid”.
Honestly, pull yourself together, man!
Friday, May 21, 2004
Sleep deprived and tired, I yawn as I sit in my desk in trig class. I talked with Elisse for an hour last night at around 1, so my yawns force themselves out from my chest frequently and sporadically. I’m really happy that I still have my dearest little Elissie. How dear to my heart she is. To truly have someone who understands, who offers comfort in face of troubles unspoken, who realizes the mentality and mindset in which I dwell, is such a reassurance. The conversation we held last night was no longer awkward and uncomfortable, but relaxed and extremely easy to enjoy. This doesn’t change the fact, however, that it transpired during the most ungodly of early hours, so here I sit, yawning and stretching, struggling to stay awake.
I half-haphazardly listen to the conversation Jo and Anita are holding, and my eyes wander around the room with no goal or sight to capture. Jon is discussing Canadians with Mrs. Nagle, who’s currently harboring 3 at her house. EasTV, the student-directed and student-produced news show of East high school, turns on. Normally I’m vexed by this. I see little/no point in EasTV, and I’m burned by the fact that it’s held during one of my few classes in which the teacher actually teaches. The show acts mainly to exist as yet another petty, sentimental procedure that robs students and teachers of class time. Jo informs me that this is the last EasTV, so it will probably be long and drawn out. AAArrgh.
After a couple reports about absolutely nothing, a boy turns the time over to Jamie, a talented video-graphics genius in my ward. I perk up for this. He’s incredible with a camera, he is. I don’t know how to name his piece; it was simply a well-made clip show of the most random events related to east high. There were shots of football games, random pictures from the hallways, a clip of me shrieking my heart out on the stage of Take 5, videos of the dances and regular student life. Kudos to you, Jamie.
Regularly I would roll my eyes and simulate the symptoms of bronchitis upon witnessing such sentiment, but rather I enjoyed it. It was a quality piece, and didn’t focus on one part of student life. This seemed to make everything less petty, all the rituals and ceremonies less ridiculous, even my classes now had worth. This is the last EasTV I’ll ever see. In two weeks I’ll burst through the side doors of this school and never return. Out of the 2,030 students enrolled in East High School, I’ll continue to see 10 of them or so. This population will not matter come June 4th, for me it will cease to exist. How can something that held so much weight in my life disappear in one fleeting moment? So easily!
How incredible. My high school career is almost over. Over.
Splendid…
I half-haphazardly listen to the conversation Jo and Anita are holding, and my eyes wander around the room with no goal or sight to capture. Jon is discussing Canadians with Mrs. Nagle, who’s currently harboring 3 at her house. EasTV, the student-directed and student-produced news show of East high school, turns on. Normally I’m vexed by this. I see little/no point in EasTV, and I’m burned by the fact that it’s held during one of my few classes in which the teacher actually teaches. The show acts mainly to exist as yet another petty, sentimental procedure that robs students and teachers of class time. Jo informs me that this is the last EasTV, so it will probably be long and drawn out. AAArrgh.
After a couple reports about absolutely nothing, a boy turns the time over to Jamie, a talented video-graphics genius in my ward. I perk up for this. He’s incredible with a camera, he is. I don’t know how to name his piece; it was simply a well-made clip show of the most random events related to east high. There were shots of football games, random pictures from the hallways, a clip of me shrieking my heart out on the stage of Take 5, videos of the dances and regular student life. Kudos to you, Jamie.
Regularly I would roll my eyes and simulate the symptoms of bronchitis upon witnessing such sentiment, but rather I enjoyed it. It was a quality piece, and didn’t focus on one part of student life. This seemed to make everything less petty, all the rituals and ceremonies less ridiculous, even my classes now had worth. This is the last EasTV I’ll ever see. In two weeks I’ll burst through the side doors of this school and never return. Out of the 2,030 students enrolled in East High School, I’ll continue to see 10 of them or so. This population will not matter come June 4th, for me it will cease to exist. How can something that held so much weight in my life disappear in one fleeting moment? So easily!
How incredible. My high school career is almost over. Over.
Splendid…
Do you remember our dear friend Heather? The one who decided to publish her thoughts on the internet and I decided to blast them apart with unadulterated cruelty? Apparently she's depressed, or something. It's a good thing I'm somewhat of a sociopath and sadist, or something as silly as this would actually bother me. That would be stupid...
Surprisingly enough I've kept up with her blog. Not that it's really entertaining; the writing is still as horrid as ever. I did like this little tidbit, though. I think it's a song, or something, but I'm too lazy to find out so I'll just hand the credit over to her.
“Let’s make love when we understand the consequences,
Let’s make love under the stars we pray,
Let’s make love with heart and minds,
Let’s skip making love to save the love.”
cliché, I know, but nice.
Oddly enough, it’s nice.
Surprisingly enough I've kept up with her blog. Not that it's really entertaining; the writing is still as horrid as ever. I did like this little tidbit, though. I think it's a song, or something, but I'm too lazy to find out so I'll just hand the credit over to her.
“Let’s make love when we understand the consequences,
Let’s make love under the stars we pray,
Let’s make love with heart and minds,
Let’s skip making love to save the love.”
cliché, I know, but nice.
Oddly enough, it’s nice.
There are times when one looks at his or her life and realizes that he/she simply isn’t doing enough. As a human being, I feel as if my potential is wasting away into bitter nothingness. Not in my academia nor in my work, but simply as my ongoing role as a daughter of God. Where much is given, much is expected, and I have been given so much. I know exactly what I need to do, and yet I find myself not doing it. This is terrible, absolutely terrible, but I feel a need to list them. Oh my….
Things I need to change in my life:
1. First and foremost: Honesty. I think it quite possible that I am the most dishonest person in the world. I kid you not. I lie all the freaking time. Big things, small things, important things, stupid things. At times I find myself lying without rhyme or reason, for no reason at all. It’s quite possible that I’m a pathological liar, but I can control what I say enough to establish some integrity in myself. What vexes me the most about this is the fact that this has never bothered me at all; I’ve simply accepted it as an easy way of living, a low way of living. I’ve already taken steps to approach and solve this dilemma: lately I’ve forced myself into becoming more honest and I’ve decided to be completely sincere when dealing with my mother. We’ve finally reached an understanding in our relationship that I plan to honor with nothing but my utmost authenticity and sincerity of heart. Still, I have so little scruples when it comes to honesty, and this maddens me.
2. My treatment of those who love me is something I am currently ashamed of. I’ve been treating my family like crap. Poor, poor family. My mum has done so much for me, and yet I know not what she has given. How easily I take this for granted and push her away. I still don’t agree with certain rules and I despise the way I become her outlet for many of her frustrations. She deserves respect, however. She does.
3. I’m still so sadistic! I can’t help the fact that I delight in the disturbances of those around me.
4. Selfishness. Not in the conventional sense, but just in the fact that I haven’t really been prayerful about any of the decisions I’ve made lately. True belief is followed by trust, which is then followed by devotion. How far must I deviate before I realize which way I yearn to go? I am told by multitudinous voices in my head and in my being that I’ve truly found the path I wish to follow, the one that can bring me that one place I’ll sincerely call “home”, if you will.
What folly my life is! How foolish of me, to trust in the hand of man as opposed to the hand that created me! What am I doing? I am nothing alone; my belief doesn’t define me but it does support me, it does sustain me. My divinity, my deity, my God! I love thee now as I shall forever. In the arms of those above I feel foolish and imprudent, but never inadequate, never unloved, never unwanted.
Time is too fragile and beyond my grasp to predict. I don’t know what lies ahead of me, and I don’t really think I want to. It is imperative, however, that I find passion in living what I know, in becoming who I want to be. The money doesn’t matter, who I stand next to is inconsequential, what I do is insignificant. To be a useful servant in the eyes of He that reigns supreme is all I truly, honestly long to be. All the rest will follow, all the rest will work.
This I know to be true.
Things I need to change in my life:
1. First and foremost: Honesty. I think it quite possible that I am the most dishonest person in the world. I kid you not. I lie all the freaking time. Big things, small things, important things, stupid things. At times I find myself lying without rhyme or reason, for no reason at all. It’s quite possible that I’m a pathological liar, but I can control what I say enough to establish some integrity in myself. What vexes me the most about this is the fact that this has never bothered me at all; I’ve simply accepted it as an easy way of living, a low way of living. I’ve already taken steps to approach and solve this dilemma: lately I’ve forced myself into becoming more honest and I’ve decided to be completely sincere when dealing with my mother. We’ve finally reached an understanding in our relationship that I plan to honor with nothing but my utmost authenticity and sincerity of heart. Still, I have so little scruples when it comes to honesty, and this maddens me.
2. My treatment of those who love me is something I am currently ashamed of. I’ve been treating my family like crap. Poor, poor family. My mum has done so much for me, and yet I know not what she has given. How easily I take this for granted and push her away. I still don’t agree with certain rules and I despise the way I become her outlet for many of her frustrations. She deserves respect, however. She does.
3. I’m still so sadistic! I can’t help the fact that I delight in the disturbances of those around me.
4. Selfishness. Not in the conventional sense, but just in the fact that I haven’t really been prayerful about any of the decisions I’ve made lately. True belief is followed by trust, which is then followed by devotion. How far must I deviate before I realize which way I yearn to go? I am told by multitudinous voices in my head and in my being that I’ve truly found the path I wish to follow, the one that can bring me that one place I’ll sincerely call “home”, if you will.
What folly my life is! How foolish of me, to trust in the hand of man as opposed to the hand that created me! What am I doing? I am nothing alone; my belief doesn’t define me but it does support me, it does sustain me. My divinity, my deity, my God! I love thee now as I shall forever. In the arms of those above I feel foolish and imprudent, but never inadequate, never unloved, never unwanted.
Time is too fragile and beyond my grasp to predict. I don’t know what lies ahead of me, and I don’t really think I want to. It is imperative, however, that I find passion in living what I know, in becoming who I want to be. The money doesn’t matter, who I stand next to is inconsequential, what I do is insignificant. To be a useful servant in the eyes of He that reigns supreme is all I truly, honestly long to be. All the rest will follow, all the rest will work.
This I know to be true.
Thursday, May 20, 2004
The bat returned yesterday. She burst through the front door in all her dotty glory, bearing kooky gifts for even the most immobile of the family (Boris). I graciously accepted the pair of flip-flops she gave to me; they’re quite adorable, if I say so myself. She was so happy to see me (upon hearing that I’m a registered runaway she grew incredibly worried about me. OH! I FORGOT TO TELL YOU! I’m a registered runaway. To make a long story short: mum wanted me home and I told her I had decided against it, so I stayed with a friend for a night. I came home to a scared, tired family and the news that I was a registered runaway for one beautiful day. I’ll write about it later) She toddled up to me as quickly as her old, fragile legs would allow and threw her arms around me.
“I’m so glad you’re safe!” She said exasperatedly. “I ran away once. Ended up in a swamp. It was terrible…” Upon remembering this occurrence she seemed to forget all about her fears concerning me and my runaway tendencies, and twaddled back down the stairs after patting Boris three times on the head. Loony, eccentric, and just plain odd, but nice to have around after a month of near-sanity in my house (yeah right).
It’s late. I leave you all now to delve into the inexact realms of unconsciousness. I plan to do this right after consuming plentiful amounts of over-the-counter allergy medication. My nose is trying to kill me, see. Hmmm…little pink pills, how I adore you….
“I’m so glad you’re safe!” She said exasperatedly. “I ran away once. Ended up in a swamp. It was terrible…” Upon remembering this occurrence she seemed to forget all about her fears concerning me and my runaway tendencies, and twaddled back down the stairs after patting Boris three times on the head. Loony, eccentric, and just plain odd, but nice to have around after a month of near-sanity in my house (yeah right).
It’s late. I leave you all now to delve into the inexact realms of unconsciousness. I plan to do this right after consuming plentiful amounts of over-the-counter allergy medication. My nose is trying to kill me, see. Hmmm…little pink pills, how I adore you….
Wednesday, May 19, 2004
I started another blog, on which I intended to start my novel. I do plan to be published by 2006, and I figured I needed to get started. After 4 entries, though, I look over them and find them to be pointless. Beautiful and well-crafted, mind you, but pointless all the same. I embarked on this expedition to begin my first novel and to speak out against obsession, but mainly to start a first novel. This lack of motivation (or at least the existence of WRONG motivation) is quite apparent in my writing. It’s so very pretty, but says nothing. The complex and abstract words form together seamlessly as a veil, attempting fruitlessly to hide the emptiness of the piece. The flow is lovely, but does it say? I’ve written less than two pages, so it’s not as severe as it could be, but it’s going to need meaning at one time or another. Were I to continue, I doubt such value would float into my words and justify their existence accidentally. The crux of the situation, therefore, is as follows: I have no political or moral or sociological conviction to propagate or convey. I have morals, yes, but have I a stand to take through this book? Will there be a true impetus to push this book into existence? What exactly am I trying to say?
I look at the rubbish literature around me and wonder why I bother will such folly as merit and worth. So much trash has been published, so much! It’s terrible to think that I have to extend effort. I’m an elitist, darn it! Not only should I dream up something brilliant in my sleep, but I shouldn’t have to write it down while in consciousness. It all should happen after I pass out on my bed/couch/front desk at Spag. Yes…sleep….
I’m going to go running with Joel and Frank. I’m excited; these people will push me to run more and make me skinny. Huzzah!
I look at the rubbish literature around me and wonder why I bother will such folly as merit and worth. So much trash has been published, so much! It’s terrible to think that I have to extend effort. I’m an elitist, darn it! Not only should I dream up something brilliant in my sleep, but I shouldn’t have to write it down while in consciousness. It all should happen after I pass out on my bed/couch/front desk at Spag. Yes…sleep….
I’m going to go running with Joel and Frank. I’m excited; these people will push me to run more and make me skinny. Huzzah!
I didn't do any homework tonight. I didn’t really have any, but I think I could have been much more productive. That’s okay, though; it’s nice to lay back and do as I please. Today I went to BDs with Joel and Jeff and Ian and Elisse, and the heart-pounding fruits found in this hole-in-the-wall eatery are exquisite. The fiddles are filling and nummy and oh so bad for you. It was fabulous.
I’ve decided I want to be published by the year 2006, but I’ve discovered that my attempts of this so far have all been common in their necessities: it needs a point. My description is fabulous and melodious and beautiful, but supports nothing. Blah. I’m to lazy to discover my inner drives and convictions. I’d much rather partake in my goddess, my diety, my master: luscious words.
Carter’s on the other computer working on homework. I think I’m going to go give him a hug and turn in soon; I’m so very tired.
Elisse got a new job. A holy, glorious, sensational new job. Get this: She’s got a job at this store called haight, and she’s getting paid entirely in shoes. I kid you not: $10 an hour towards store credit. Obviously this isn’t for the mother trying to raise a family, but for the fashionable teenager that would blow her money at the store anyway. If you think about it, it’s saving you the time and the trouble one must go through to cash a check. And since time is money, the job actually SAVES her money. I think I should work there…
I’m going to go hug Carter now. Bubye
I’ve decided I want to be published by the year 2006, but I’ve discovered that my attempts of this so far have all been common in their necessities: it needs a point. My description is fabulous and melodious and beautiful, but supports nothing. Blah. I’m to lazy to discover my inner drives and convictions. I’d much rather partake in my goddess, my diety, my master: luscious words.
Carter’s on the other computer working on homework. I think I’m going to go give him a hug and turn in soon; I’m so very tired.
Elisse got a new job. A holy, glorious, sensational new job. Get this: She’s got a job at this store called haight, and she’s getting paid entirely in shoes. I kid you not: $10 an hour towards store credit. Obviously this isn’t for the mother trying to raise a family, but for the fashionable teenager that would blow her money at the store anyway. If you think about it, it’s saving you the time and the trouble one must go through to cash a check. And since time is money, the job actually SAVES her money. I think I should work there…
I’m going to go hug Carter now. Bubye
Tuesday, May 18, 2004
I'm in such a good mood right now. Whoooo, I am just SO loopy! The world is my playground...
Today I was an absolute wench to half the people who crossed my path. It was terrible, yet so very, very amusing. Ha hahahaha- I'm insensitive and inconsiderate. awesome.
Anyway, I suppose I'll endeavor to settle down so that I might inform my few neglected readers what is going on. Currently I am still a slacker who sucks at updating her blog. So what? Do you have a problem with that, you stupid Canadian...Wait, no. I'm seriously trying to be serious. It's just not working.
Elisse sat down in the park and discussed what was happening. She felt I wasn't exerting enough effort into our relationship, which, I might add, was a 125% true. I suck at calling people and making plans and keeping them. I'm sorry! So I've decided to expend effort towards this one cause because I adore my little Elissie. So I'm going to start calling her and making plans and keeping them and so on and so forth. Let it be written, let it be done.
Still so very elated upon beholding Carter. So cute. So sensitive. So mine.
I'm trying very hard to graduate. I've attended all my classes since my run-in with Sadler, and I am quite proud of this. I have 3 weeks until I’m finished with the arduous confinement of high school. And then I’m done! Whooopee!
Okay- this isn’t working. I’m too loopy. I’m so very off today. I’m just insane. I’m having one of my highs right now that come with my manic depressive nature. Weeeeeeee…how I love them. I need to get to bed, though, before I slip out of my trance and fall into the trough of realization and dark hopelessness that intuitively follows. Oh no, trying to articulate such a tragedy will inevitably bring it about!!! We can’t let this happen! Quick- something funny, absurd, anything! What shall I write about?
How about Maile and Jeff’s break-up? Funny story, that. What with my being a terrible, terrible person and doing something terribly, terribly immature during their break-up, it’s bound to make me giddy. Yes- I’m a bad person…
Today I was an absolute wench to half the people who crossed my path. It was terrible, yet so very, very amusing. Ha hahahaha- I'm insensitive and inconsiderate. awesome.
Anyway, I suppose I'll endeavor to settle down so that I might inform my few neglected readers what is going on. Currently I am still a slacker who sucks at updating her blog. So what? Do you have a problem with that, you stupid Canadian...Wait, no. I'm seriously trying to be serious. It's just not working.
Elisse sat down in the park and discussed what was happening. She felt I wasn't exerting enough effort into our relationship, which, I might add, was a 125% true. I suck at calling people and making plans and keeping them. I'm sorry! So I've decided to expend effort towards this one cause because I adore my little Elissie. So I'm going to start calling her and making plans and keeping them and so on and so forth. Let it be written, let it be done.
Still so very elated upon beholding Carter. So cute. So sensitive. So mine.
I'm trying very hard to graduate. I've attended all my classes since my run-in with Sadler, and I am quite proud of this. I have 3 weeks until I’m finished with the arduous confinement of high school. And then I’m done! Whooopee!
Okay- this isn’t working. I’m too loopy. I’m so very off today. I’m just insane. I’m having one of my highs right now that come with my manic depressive nature. Weeeeeeee…how I love them. I need to get to bed, though, before I slip out of my trance and fall into the trough of realization and dark hopelessness that intuitively follows. Oh no, trying to articulate such a tragedy will inevitably bring it about!!! We can’t let this happen! Quick- something funny, absurd, anything! What shall I write about?
How about Maile and Jeff’s break-up? Funny story, that. What with my being a terrible, terrible person and doing something terribly, terribly immature during their break-up, it’s bound to make me giddy. Yes- I’m a bad person…
Saturday, May 15, 2004
Scrunching my nose, I look blankly at the screen in front of me. Here am I: desirous to write yet unwilling to analyze. My life speeds ahead rapidly with such force that I’m afraid of falling off my path and having to watch my train of promise chug quickly away. Ha. That’d be funny.
I finally got in trouble for never going to class. Upon seeing my midterm, my mum decided to book a charming little meeting with East High’s assistant principal, Mr. Sadler. Sadler, a jovial, yet down-to-business kind of man is an interesting guy. Upon seeing my squeaky clean record he was good-natured and ebullient, but something tells me that I would have found him to be very different indeed if I fell into the troublemaker caste of East high. He basically told me to go to every class from now until the end of school and he’d help me to graduate, but if not he would make my life perdition and give my mother permission to sit in with me during class for a week. Thus, I have and am planning to attend every single class in which I am enrolled. Stupid class…
Carter’s still all romantic and cute and amorous like. One of these days I’ll write a serious piece about what he really means to me: an articulate Carter-Rachael manifesto type of dealie. I’m too content with him, though, I’d rather not complicate it by trying to vocalize it. It’s so simple: I adore him and I love him and he makes me happy. He’s my poet. He really is the type of guy I want to marry. (Don’t worry: I’m sixteen and we are NOT in Kentucky, so I’ve still got a decade of single-ness or so)
Elisse and I are having problems. Once again, we’re drifting and it’s not good. She’s getting so snide and rude about it, however, that it makes it hard for me to grasp what I’d be fighting for a times. If she’s going to be so unhappy no matter what then what’s the point? She wrote an entry in her blog the other day and stated “Thank heavens I have a real best-friend” (in reference to another person). I could weep and mourn about this, but if that’s that, then that’s that. She’s getting so rude in her tone and text messages, she makes it easy for me to read something like this, say “huh”, and give Maile and Jane a call.
I sleep in tomorrow! I got so little sleep this week, this is a monumental incident indeed.
Oh beautiful, intoxicating sleep! Steal me away and never return me. Lift me up on your subtle wings and carry me into the inner depths of my mind, never to resurface into the bitter wind that is reality. How I adore thee! How I crave the fulfillment I find in your emptiness! The refreshment, the awakening, the peace! Oh sweet and bitter sleep, how I adore thee! To wake with the sun pouring through my window and dripping onto my bodice is a rare one I’ve come to love, one that I clean my room up the night before just so that the moment can be as picturesque as humanely possible. I close my eyes and tilt back my head in melodious elation, allowing the thought to wash over me and cleanse me with thoughts of tomorrow. Oh sleep, I hear you beckon and I come immediately, obeying the summon with an exultant diligence. I come to you, open your arms wide and swallow me whole, for I am yours!
I finally got in trouble for never going to class. Upon seeing my midterm, my mum decided to book a charming little meeting with East High’s assistant principal, Mr. Sadler. Sadler, a jovial, yet down-to-business kind of man is an interesting guy. Upon seeing my squeaky clean record he was good-natured and ebullient, but something tells me that I would have found him to be very different indeed if I fell into the troublemaker caste of East high. He basically told me to go to every class from now until the end of school and he’d help me to graduate, but if not he would make my life perdition and give my mother permission to sit in with me during class for a week. Thus, I have and am planning to attend every single class in which I am enrolled. Stupid class…
Carter’s still all romantic and cute and amorous like. One of these days I’ll write a serious piece about what he really means to me: an articulate Carter-Rachael manifesto type of dealie. I’m too content with him, though, I’d rather not complicate it by trying to vocalize it. It’s so simple: I adore him and I love him and he makes me happy. He’s my poet. He really is the type of guy I want to marry. (Don’t worry: I’m sixteen and we are NOT in Kentucky, so I’ve still got a decade of single-ness or so)
Elisse and I are having problems. Once again, we’re drifting and it’s not good. She’s getting so snide and rude about it, however, that it makes it hard for me to grasp what I’d be fighting for a times. If she’s going to be so unhappy no matter what then what’s the point? She wrote an entry in her blog the other day and stated “Thank heavens I have a real best-friend” (in reference to another person). I could weep and mourn about this, but if that’s that, then that’s that. She’s getting so rude in her tone and text messages, she makes it easy for me to read something like this, say “huh”, and give Maile and Jane a call.
I sleep in tomorrow! I got so little sleep this week, this is a monumental incident indeed.
Oh beautiful, intoxicating sleep! Steal me away and never return me. Lift me up on your subtle wings and carry me into the inner depths of my mind, never to resurface into the bitter wind that is reality. How I adore thee! How I crave the fulfillment I find in your emptiness! The refreshment, the awakening, the peace! Oh sweet and bitter sleep, how I adore thee! To wake with the sun pouring through my window and dripping onto my bodice is a rare one I’ve come to love, one that I clean my room up the night before just so that the moment can be as picturesque as humanely possible. I close my eyes and tilt back my head in melodious elation, allowing the thought to wash over me and cleanse me with thoughts of tomorrow. Oh sleep, I hear you beckon and I come immediately, obeying the summon with an exultant diligence. I come to you, open your arms wide and swallow me whole, for I am yours!
Monday, May 10, 2004
AAAAHHHH! They killed blogger. They've made it all different and trendy and less-rough. Oh- I loved the old blogger so much. This is supposed to be better, I know; comments are now an option and everything else is improved, but that's not what I wanted from a blog. I never wanted to join a community, I just wanted to write. It all seemed so simple...
Not that I've been writing, though. This last week has been completely void of anything worth while. How sad. I have returned, however, and hopefully my nearly-daily writing habits return triumphantly with me. Maybe not. Meh.
Yesterday Carter and I went to prom. We're something of an "item" now, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. I adore Carter, and I love dating him, but do I want to be part of an item? Hmmm...I just don't know. But anyway: Prom.
Prom was interesting. I enjoyed myself, but I still retain the opinion that the ritual of prom is one without purpose or justification of any type, and that it's just plain stupid. It just is. For so many reasons:
1. Though I believe in spending a night on the town in a nice restaurant, this isn’t the same thing. Take away the ribbons and the dresses and the colored fish-netting and see do you have: a stomp. Nothing more, nothing less. They play the same trendy, mindless music, people are just as dependent upon their social cliques and groups, the dancing is just as horrid.
2. It’s so Freaking expensive! $40 a ticket? (not a couple, a ticket) For what? Terrible catering and careless service? One has to drop at least $100, at the VERY least. If you did anything that my group did last night (rent a stretch limo with a chauffeur [ $60 an hour + a $75 tip] and go to any activities at all, then the price bucks up easily.
3. Girls bank so much on this one night. I’ve seen egos shattered because of one night they didn’t get to participate in. It supports and strengthens the social hierarchy that I find to be so damaging to those that look up to it. Why rest your esteem on whether or not you get asked to prom? The girls that don’t get asked are often the most deserving. Why desire something so stupid?
4. It’s Stupid!!!!! Unless you’re dating the person taking you, it often ends up awkward anyway. Since Carter and I ARE dating, we didn’t have this problem, but saw it prevail in our group.
5. It has no point.
There are 5 reasons why I think prom is stupid. I have to admit, though, I had fun last night. This is simply because I adore Carter and the time spent with him, however, had it been anyone else I’d come back with an even more drawn-out explanation as to why I hate prom. Stupid tradition…
I’ve converted to cellular, by the way. I have a cell phone. It’s cute and small and sexy and black. Hmmm….what shall I name it? Poor nameless cellular phone….
Not that I've been writing, though. This last week has been completely void of anything worth while. How sad. I have returned, however, and hopefully my nearly-daily writing habits return triumphantly with me. Maybe not. Meh.
Yesterday Carter and I went to prom. We're something of an "item" now, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. I adore Carter, and I love dating him, but do I want to be part of an item? Hmmm...I just don't know. But anyway: Prom.
Prom was interesting. I enjoyed myself, but I still retain the opinion that the ritual of prom is one without purpose or justification of any type, and that it's just plain stupid. It just is. For so many reasons:
1. Though I believe in spending a night on the town in a nice restaurant, this isn’t the same thing. Take away the ribbons and the dresses and the colored fish-netting and see do you have: a stomp. Nothing more, nothing less. They play the same trendy, mindless music, people are just as dependent upon their social cliques and groups, the dancing is just as horrid.
2. It’s so Freaking expensive! $40 a ticket? (not a couple, a ticket) For what? Terrible catering and careless service? One has to drop at least $100, at the VERY least. If you did anything that my group did last night (rent a stretch limo with a chauffeur [ $60 an hour + a $75 tip] and go to any activities at all, then the price bucks up easily.
3. Girls bank so much on this one night. I’ve seen egos shattered because of one night they didn’t get to participate in. It supports and strengthens the social hierarchy that I find to be so damaging to those that look up to it. Why rest your esteem on whether or not you get asked to prom? The girls that don’t get asked are often the most deserving. Why desire something so stupid?
4. It’s Stupid!!!!! Unless you’re dating the person taking you, it often ends up awkward anyway. Since Carter and I ARE dating, we didn’t have this problem, but saw it prevail in our group.
5. It has no point.
There are 5 reasons why I think prom is stupid. I have to admit, though, I had fun last night. This is simply because I adore Carter and the time spent with him, however, had it been anyone else I’d come back with an even more drawn-out explanation as to why I hate prom. Stupid tradition…
I’ve converted to cellular, by the way. I have a cell phone. It’s cute and small and sexy and black. Hmmm….what shall I name it? Poor nameless cellular phone….
Friday, May 07, 2004
Wow. I'm tired. And I suck at writing in my blog. Meh.
I've been really busy lately, keeping myself occupied with school, work, Carter. My last day is the 12th of June, the last year I’ll get out so freaking late (The U’s graduation was today.) I’m excited.
I can’t gather my thoughts right now. They float and dart about above my head; it wouldn’t be too terribly hard to catch one and analyze it. I’m tired, however, and plan to go to bed soon. Granted, I do intend to call Carter soon, which will probably throw my whole go-to-bed plan on the ground and beat in mercilessly. That’s okay. I don’t mind. He’s worth it.
I need a new job. Mine sucks. My manager got mad at me. Well, not really, but I was annoyed anyway. I was on at 5, I walked in at 5 and had to change. I clocked on 3 or 4 minutes late. After I had worked for about 2 hours, my manager came up to the front desk and asked snidely “So Rach, you were late?”.
I hesitated, smirked, and answered “One or two minutes, yes, I was.”
I don’t care. Honestly. I could find a better job so quickly. I’m not going to quit, I’m just planning to cease all attempts of outstanding effort. I just don’t care anymore. Ha- I lasted 5 months; I’m already spag-bitter. Yes- I’m not going to be crazy like some of the other girls at work and stay for years.
Elisse and I went shopping today. Lately I’ve been so very frustrated by her. I’m sick of only seeing her in mellow moods just because she thinks that we’re “drifting”. I’m so tired of contention. How ridiculous.
Basically, I’m sick and tired of, oh, just about everything in my life except for a couple of things. I think I need to move to Nepal and become a sheep herder. I’d be such a sexy sheep herder….
I've been really busy lately, keeping myself occupied with school, work, Carter. My last day is the 12th of June, the last year I’ll get out so freaking late (The U’s graduation was today.) I’m excited.
I can’t gather my thoughts right now. They float and dart about above my head; it wouldn’t be too terribly hard to catch one and analyze it. I’m tired, however, and plan to go to bed soon. Granted, I do intend to call Carter soon, which will probably throw my whole go-to-bed plan on the ground and beat in mercilessly. That’s okay. I don’t mind. He’s worth it.
I need a new job. Mine sucks. My manager got mad at me. Well, not really, but I was annoyed anyway. I was on at 5, I walked in at 5 and had to change. I clocked on 3 or 4 minutes late. After I had worked for about 2 hours, my manager came up to the front desk and asked snidely “So Rach, you were late?”.
I hesitated, smirked, and answered “One or two minutes, yes, I was.”
I don’t care. Honestly. I could find a better job so quickly. I’m not going to quit, I’m just planning to cease all attempts of outstanding effort. I just don’t care anymore. Ha- I lasted 5 months; I’m already spag-bitter. Yes- I’m not going to be crazy like some of the other girls at work and stay for years.
Elisse and I went shopping today. Lately I’ve been so very frustrated by her. I’m sick of only seeing her in mellow moods just because she thinks that we’re “drifting”. I’m so tired of contention. How ridiculous.
Basically, I’m sick and tired of, oh, just about everything in my life except for a couple of things. I think I need to move to Nepal and become a sheep herder. I’d be such a sexy sheep herder….
Tuesday, May 04, 2004
tired. I'm making a missionary blog for rob while he's on his mission, and I just got it up and running. He writes in his journals, photo-copies it, I post for him here. And it's draining. meh
I'll type just a little, though. Carter and a friend came over today, was interesting, mum kicked them out because it was a school afternoon, and so on and so forth. I'm running on very little sleep. I go now.
I'll type just a little, though. Carter and a friend came over today, was interesting, mum kicked them out because it was a school afternoon, and so on and so forth. I'm running on very little sleep. I go now.
Sunday, May 02, 2004
Why do I foolishly attempt to write as if I'm currently capable of summoning laudable thought from the purplish abyss that is my mind and correctly articulating it? Why must I pretend? I’m too tired to talk right now, why would I expect writing capacity or eloquence? Because I’m an impractical little fool who lives her life bobbing about in her delusions. I see nothing wrong with that…
I’m going to a BBQ Marliegh is throwing in about 15 minutes; I just thought I’d type out some rubbish before departing.
Where on earth did Natalia Vodianova go? Yes, she can still be seen in every fashion magazine, but no longer in ever fashion show. 2004 Fall RTW was almost completely deficient of the Russian beaut, and her face is becoming less and less common. Pity; I was just starting to warm up to the girl. Meh. Her time has come, I suppose, or is on its way. Funny, though, how she’s reached her peak and she’s barely 20. Ha. Talk about one big scandalous bang of a career.
I’m going to go get ready now. I’m as sexy as Mrs. Vodianova any day, I just have to spend 10 minutes to look it. So I’m afraid I must leave you now. Farewell.
I’m going to a BBQ Marliegh is throwing in about 15 minutes; I just thought I’d type out some rubbish before departing.
Where on earth did Natalia Vodianova go? Yes, she can still be seen in every fashion magazine, but no longer in ever fashion show. 2004 Fall RTW was almost completely deficient of the Russian beaut, and her face is becoming less and less common. Pity; I was just starting to warm up to the girl. Meh. Her time has come, I suppose, or is on its way. Funny, though, how she’s reached her peak and she’s barely 20. Ha. Talk about one big scandalous bang of a career.
I’m going to go get ready now. I’m as sexy as Mrs. Vodianova any day, I just have to spend 10 minutes to look it. So I’m afraid I must leave you now. Farewell.
Saturday, May 01, 2004
I've often wondered exactly what awaits those who have worked towards damnation. Purgatory, hell, whatever one wishes to call it, is an intriguing piece of work indeed. I believe, however, that I have discovered exactly what hell will be like:
An eternal cycle of, day after day of not going to bed, getting ripped from your slumber by your mother and forced to concentrate on abstract mathematics for an hour.
Honestly- I kid you not. Can you think of anything more disturbing? I can’t. How horrid.
Yesterday I went to bed late, insanely late. I got up early, insanely early. My bus leaves in a little more than 2 hours and I have to following tasks to accomplish:
• Grade 10 of my mother’s math tests. I foolishly offered this service in exchange for a ride to work. NOT FREAKING WORTH IT.
• Shower. Definitely need a shower.
• Clean my closet. I’m not sure if it is humanly possible to do this in two hours, considering the state of my dumpste, um, closet.
• Get as much sleep as possible. I got around 3 hours and 45 minutes of sleep. If I go to work like this I am going to be so incredibly dead.
• Endeavor to transform myself into something slightly presentable. I currently resemble Jane of the jungle and smell something like her friends the apes.
• Call Maile, Elisse, Carter, and try and work out whatever I’m doing tonight, if I feel like doing anything at all.
• Torch my mother’s car for putting me through such angst. No man, woman, or mammal of any kind can consider my treatment earlier on today humane in any sense, way, shape or form.
I have so little time. I don’t know what to do; I want to sleep. So very badly, I want to sleep. Meh.
I guess I’ll just start from the top down, then.
An eternal cycle of, day after day of not going to bed, getting ripped from your slumber by your mother and forced to concentrate on abstract mathematics for an hour.
Honestly- I kid you not. Can you think of anything more disturbing? I can’t. How horrid.
Yesterday I went to bed late, insanely late. I got up early, insanely early. My bus leaves in a little more than 2 hours and I have to following tasks to accomplish:
• Grade 10 of my mother’s math tests. I foolishly offered this service in exchange for a ride to work. NOT FREAKING WORTH IT.
• Shower. Definitely need a shower.
• Clean my closet. I’m not sure if it is humanly possible to do this in two hours, considering the state of my dumpste, um, closet.
• Get as much sleep as possible. I got around 3 hours and 45 minutes of sleep. If I go to work like this I am going to be so incredibly dead.
• Endeavor to transform myself into something slightly presentable. I currently resemble Jane of the jungle and smell something like her friends the apes.
• Call Maile, Elisse, Carter, and try and work out whatever I’m doing tonight, if I feel like doing anything at all.
• Torch my mother’s car for putting me through such angst. No man, woman, or mammal of any kind can consider my treatment earlier on today humane in any sense, way, shape or form.
I have so little time. I don’t know what to do; I want to sleep. So very badly, I want to sleep. Meh.
I guess I’ll just start from the top down, then.
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