"Could David Gilmour write a guitar solo so awesome, not even he could play it?"

...heehee, Tor.

I find myself increasingly numb. And my therapist wonders why I have trust issues...

I really talk to two people. Seth thinks I tell him everything, but it's more like 90%. I tell lots to AliBerry, too, I've noticed.

Pineapple: So, Seb, you going to homecoming?
Sebhar: eeeh... probably not. Our dances rather suck.
Pineapple: *long pause* Oh. *averts eyes* Me neither...

...wtf was that, please?

From [Rarely available]
OOOOOOOOO me and my friend started making classic rock jokes that make fun of those Chuck Norris facts. It hink you'll like them.
"There is no thunder, only the echoe of Jimi Hendrix's guitar"
"If Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix, and Syd Barret met in the same room...everyone within a five mile radius would die of an acid over dose."
"Sad as it is that Steve Irwin died, he was not the first one to be stabbed in the heart by a sting ray. It also happened to Roger Waters, and he said "Not bad, but I've had better" (i.e. heroin)
And my peronal favorite
"David Gilmour can add distortions to an accousitic guitar"

wootosity!

I've done this before
But never this bad
At first, bewildered
And then I got mad

Now I'm just sitting,
Waiting for you
And I realise now
They've got you thinking, too.

They say that the losers
Get lucky sometimes
So where is my luck
As the half-past clock chimes?

I've got nothing left
Lost all of it, all
I let them convince me
There'd be no more falls

I thought somehow everything
Could turn out all right
And now, out of nowhere,
A soul-wrenching fight.

I'm so in the dark
And so all alone
And I hear Satan laughing
Satan calling me home.

Past is past. And that is the truth.
My past keeps biting me in the ass, and that is the truth.
Something tells me I won't be able to cope with this, and that is the truth.
I can try, and that is the truth.
But it probably won't help, and that is the truth.
I am afraid, and that is the truth.

For the benefit of Stephen King readers:
Choo-choo.

"Fucked up and spun out in my room. On my own, here we go..."

"urbandictionary.com. It's the best."

"Shake my what now?"

"Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's ass."

"And if you go, I want to go with you..."

So.

Having a munch of dinner.
Tofu-and-tomato-and-cheese burrito.
Kissables.
Left school early.
Went to an ortho appointment.
 Four more weeks? You told me that two months ago.
Drove out to Curves.
 Won a charm bracelet.
Had an allergy shot.
 Now my arms itch.
Got Friday's Government homework done.
 Finally, an editorial which didn't concentrate one narrow-
 minded viewpoint or the backing of a political faction!
Saw Jason at the doctor's office.
 We were both laughing at Dr. Phil.
 "Wow...you got preppy."
Drove to Fareway then.
 Needed chocolate.
 Got some.
 Mmm, Kissables.
 Also got some gum.
 Got some.
 Mmm, Trident Tropical Twist.
  Now that's alliteration.
Drove home.
Made supper.
Took an ibuprofen for tooth pain.
Hip-hop at five-thirty.
 I'll drive there, too.
Band tomorrow morning.
 Got to learn the vast majority of Malaguena drill.
 Also the music.
  All I know is the solo, really.
Mmmmmmmmm, Tropical Twist.. *chews*

So.

I'm breathing normally again.

I've rationalised myself.

Sometimes I'm quite the spaz.

...weird.

Some days... I've found Emo.

Phuck.

"I'm unaware..."

"I don't deserve this..."

"Making up problems that don't exist..."

"So yours..."

"Don't know when I'll be back again."

"I hate the fall."

"Yaweh."

Sooooooooooo...

Maybe I'm overreacting.

I probably am.

After all, I'm sure something else, like parents, was an issue.

But still.

"I can't go. Oh, and, um, I'm going to leave without so much as a hug."

So.

Just got back from Ohio.

Had an okay time.

I hate smoke.

Okay, so about 55% of the time was shitty.

I was gone four days.

Some people didn't even notice.

So I'm a little depressed.

Being tired isn't helping.

Homework isn't helping.

The lack of a specific person showing any affection at all... that was... hm.

"I prefer to keep my sadness bottled up inside in the form of a mental illness." -- Paraphrased from Leela, closely followed by...

"It's your lucky day. I'm a holding, stroking, loving machine!" -- Fry

She's a one-eyed mutant.

And I'm not.

And at least someone appreciates her.

Even if it is Fry.

So.

Today.

Went to Deli One for twist cones with Molly.
Rather fun.

Molly dropped me home, I talked to Mom on the phone, checked my email.

Not a lot.

So.

Then Dad came home.
"You wanna go get your liscence?"
"Are you serious?"
"Apparently."

We got my liscence.

The picture doesn't suck.

That makes me happy.

So I drove to Curves.
And back again.
And then to Nathan's, but no one answered the door.
Then to Seth's, but he's at fifth grade camp.
Then to Matthew's, because I had to talk to him anyway.
So I picked up Matthew.
And we talked.
And it was good.

I think I understand some more about stuff now.

Then Dad called, and I dropped Matthew home.
And I went to dance.
And it was fun
 even though I suck.
I parked about four feet from the curb.
It's okay though, the parking lot's always abandoned that time of night.

Then I drove home
  listening to Bowling for Soup
And Alexa was behind me
  and I saw David
  and Hannahkimmerle
  and other people I didn't know.

That's me, today.

No, shockingly, I don't want to go to Prom.

Reasons:
1. No date.
2. You want me to spend all that money for:
3. Bad DJs
4. Not dancing with anyone
5. Watching the perfect plastic girls dance with footballers
6. A dress I'll never wear again
7. A dress I'll hate wearing regardless.
8. An afterparty the highlight of which MIGHT be a hypnotist

Uhm, methinks not. Unless you can find me someone I can tolerate who will go with me as a friend and not care if I wear pants and pay for dinner and my ticked.

Again, mestillthinks not.

Song: Crash and Burn
Artist: The Story Changes
Album: Last Night A Rock Band Saved My Life
Track: Ten
Label: Future Destinations Records

I don't deserve this. I treated you perfect.
I always absorbed it, always made time.
There's this reflection of all that you've ruined.
I will get through this, I'll be all right,
but don't look back for me.

I don't deserve this. I made you my conquest,
always the purpose, always the light.
There's no real answers to all of these questions
turning and burning right through my mind,
but don't look back for me.

Actions so selfish, you already know this.
We can't quite control it, we're lost in your lies.
I'm burning as witness, no longer the victim.
I'm over and through with, stop wasting my time.
Caught up and clueless, addicted and foolish,
I always looked through it, but now I see
Apologies are worthless if we just repeat the problem.
the promise that you've broken was the only way to start this now,
but don't look back for me.

Sooooooooo...

What do these people have in common? (Besides the fact that they're all male and actors.)
 Heath Ledger
 Johnny Depp
 Cillian Murphy
 Ewan McGregor
 Jake Gyllenhaal (how the heck d'you spell that anyway?)
 Jonathan Rhys-Meyers
 Tim Curry

By the way... I've watched Brokeback Mountain two nights in a row.

I need to find and buy The Brothers Grimm.

Traer is a cool name.

"Can you see me?"

"Here I come baby. Comin' to GETCHA. Ow! Foxy lady..."

"It suddenly struck me... I just might die with a smile on my face after all."

"By the river, holding hands. Roll me up and lay me down..."

So.

Busy typing essays.

The one based on my last entry, and one on the Picture of Dorian Gray. Also some Government stuff I want a head start on, and some other assignments for my archives.

Portion of a project for English III with Mrs. Kramer...

"In English class, my third and final year of high school, the opportunity rises from the woodwork of my mind to prompt me gently to put pen to paper and complete the circuit of thought. As I leave this place, this place I have loved and hated, I take a monumental step toward the physical abandonment of my childhood. I need a way of keeping in touch with my past, other than scrabbling to hold onto the fleeting treasure that has been my youth. I've decided to make note of my reflections on life so far, so that I may refer back to pubescence and prepubescence as I see fit in the years to come. 

In reflecting back upon these last fifteen years, I can see small events, insignificant at the time and now ripened to full fruitfulness, having their effects on my life and my soul. I see people who played small roles in my life before coming to realise the full potential of their characters in my epic story. I see brushes on shoulders or quick smiles bearing long-term results. I see actions I deemed infinitesimal showing consequences - good and bad - in my everyday life here in the present.

I still do not know myself. Perhaps I never will. But I feel that somehow, in everything I experience, all I create, and everyone I meet, that there is a piece to the puzzle which, when put together at long last, will show my entire identity.

I still can come up to my own private room and be. The scent of candles, the rigid order diffused by cluttered collections of books and papers and bric-a-brac: these are who I am. In my room, I am the Queen. Everything occurs as is my whim. So it is written, so it is done - so feeds my ego. I experience the best in my room - the most exhilirating highs, the torturous terrors, deepest understandings - through throught and book and music.

At the present moment, I am very excited, yet also frightened. My future looms large in front of me, pulsating slightly and pregnant with promise, beckoning to me with one undeniable finger. Dare I reach that potential? Dare I not?

Always I want to be free. I want to experience everything worth experiencing, and to learn from each experience. Never do I want to be hindered by anything - commitments, emotions, myself. I've got to be free, to do what I want, to be who I want. I need to go where I like and wear what I like and be all that I can possibly be.

I am afraid of that future, though, so undeniable and yet somehow so out of reach. It seems like I am being pulled through some inner space, hurtling toward it, propelled by its inescapable gravity. Can I survive the impact? And what if I miss it and simply go into orbit, with my bright, glowing future forever just out of reach? Will it haunt me, then? I am certain it will. So again, I ask myself... Dare I? Dare I not?

Spare me from mediocrity. Permit me to at least leave behind one thing that can influence someone, somewhere. If one person can see my work and find a piece of themself inside it, then I will not be mediocre. I will have achieved all that I want and need to achieve, and I shall rise above the shadows of my youthful doubts and my soul will know peace.

I think I would like to call myself a dragoness, invincible (or nearly so). Cunning and creative, I would like to be, with an unrivaled appreciation for beauty in all its forms, not just the physical. Indeed, I possess many qualities of a dragoness already. I collect things; I create and I have the power to destroy. When I fight I can be a vicious rival - with my pen, of course. Can I ever exhibit the graceful strength that is dragonflesh? I hope something like that is within that blindingly bright future I've got coming.

Sometimes I try to exceed myself, though this has never been a productive action. I can only do what I can do; pushing myself beyond my limit has done nothing but backfire, leaving me worse off than I ever was before. I need to make notes not to inhibit myself by trying to be more than I am.

Never, never, never will I reach a state of mediocre apathy so acute that I never contribute anything to society. This is my one great hope, and a vow to myself. I will stand alone on the bridge, yes, if need be, and I may have to let the river flow beneath me, but if I can do one thing to clean that polluted flow I shall do so.

I am continually more aware of the power which chance plays in my life. While I personally do not believe in it, others do - many others in fact. They speak of coincidence, of the odds, the improbabilities. I speak of fate, of predestined events. People think this is odd because I do not believe in a god or even a higher entity. Fate for me is the higher power in our lives. Some call it God, some call it Allah, there are even some who call it Satan, but I feel the finger of Fate on my temples, especially as I come to realise the small events of the past only now revealing the major roles they had and will have in my life.

I am afraid. I feel uncertain. There is that future, always, oh-so-persistent, with all its potential for glory and its potential for my destruction. Which shall I be? Glorified or destroyed? Am I always to feel a weight attached with my future, or will I someday master it? All these questions ricochet around my mind, and all I can do is hope that one day they will be answered.

Oh, I love living! I love being who I am in every possible way! I love the changes I've been through, and how they've shaped everything I've become. I love the potential I have, the opportunities, like open doors waiting for me to cross their thresholds and explore the wonders beyond! I love the thrill of the uncertainty, of the hunt, of the race. Where will I go? Who will I be? Oh the wonderous possibilities of it all!

I am committed to furthering myself, for the moment. I want to land on that future of mine and harness it - then whoop with joy as it takes me for a ride. Until then, though, I must prepare myself for that moment where I come fully into my own. What better way is there than exploring my interests, my abilities? I feel like I've made a tremendous start, but that there is still a long road ahead of me. So I'll strap on my walking shoes, heft my pack onto my back, and step onto the road, with my heroes and role models for company. To paraphrase Tolkein, who knows where I'll be swept off to?

Song: The Difference
Artist: the Wallflowers

One, two boys by the river
Down by the water
Tellin' riddles in the dark
With fireflies under the moonlight
Carvin' the insides of a tree with a knife
Ever hear the one about the boy's big sister
His best friend come along
He tried to kiss her

Chorus:
The only difference
That I see
Is you are exactly the same
As you used to be

One boy lives in a tower
With bow and arrow
And the artificial heart
With his girl
Maid of dishonor
He loaded the cannon
With a jealous appetite
They say that children now
They come in all ages
And maybe sometimes old men die
With little boy faces

(chorus)
repeat

You always said that you needed some
But you always had more, more than anyone

(chorus)
repeat

Thumbtacks come in a variety of intriguing colours, you know.

Having [chasingpeace] over always increases the cleanliness of my bedroom. Amazing.

Styrofoam packing peanuts are a mystery.