Sunday. 7.18.04 11:06 pm
just recently i've decided something. ok, more like the moment i started typing i thought of this but anyways, this may or maynot hold up. Boys. interesting little things i must admit. but, i've decided (partially to save face and partially cuz i'm an insecure little fuck) that boys are for play not emotional attachment. Lovely little things to look at but not to open up to. Fun to play with, not to cry with. I think is one step to me being completly and utterly alone for the rest of my life but oh well. its just a thought and might last for what, two seconds, but its a thought.
i've had an ok weekend. went to a nice dinner with some people and my family. ms ryan still rocks. and uh, thats about it, a shit load of swimming and retardation. it was fun. BOMB THE MOTHERFUCKERS! if ur not david, my sis, or bro you dont get it.
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Thursday. 7.15.04 5:33 pm
Man, i need a new soundtrack. actually, alkaline trio is doing pretty well. i like this.
i like depressing british music. lol i really enjoy this music. and morrissey. please, thats just awesome. blind melon shit like that. depeche mode. (can't spell for my llife) yada yada. Ok
dude, skinny little wispy guys who you know are geeks, PLUS have an insecurity complex. fuck yess, those guys are just fucking cool. lol. priscilla has no taste what so ever in boys. lol. Those guys, just too hot dude. lol. and when i watch tv and i'm like fuck yea, hes cool my sister rolls her eyes, shakes her head then walks away. haha. priscilla reallly does suck. lol. its sad. i find the losers attractive. i uno why. oh dude, a deep voice, perfect lol. haha i can't help but laugh at my self right now. i dont know why. and if they're inteligent with a nice humor fucken a. perfect. i swear. but priscilla's a dork and those kind of kids will never take intiative, and i dont take intiative. period. so i'm screwed. oh well. i'll die a lonly old maid oh well. i'll have my fun. thats kind of depressing dude, lala but tisn't that the story of my life? oh well.
man, this one kid made me listen to garth brooks once.
how did i not come out of that relationship scared?
... wait, i did! haha
random thoughts running through my head. i want to paint the world. PINK GREEN RED AND BLACK
maybe not pink.
black hair and never blond. mm.
maybe i should die my hair black. i dont know. i really wanted midnight black once but now i dont know. i might i might not. most probably wont.
"doll me up in my bad luck, i'll meet you there"
foo fighters are nice. good band. the colour and the shape. nice.
doing the diet thing right now. i dont know. its ok i guess. not bad not good, it just exists.
fuck i knew i was suppose to do something. i'm not going to do it now. wait... am i? i dont know.
my sister pissed me off today. i didnt really YELL but i did have my share of words to pass. you dont disrespect a person like that when they are on the phone with a teacher. you just dont. and the fact that it was ms. ryan that i was on the phone with, not fucking cool, if i'm on the phone with one of my friends then thats ok, but not with ms ryan dude, thats just not right. and she should have better manners like that. *sigh*
i am a geek.
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Wednesday. 7.14.04 10:05 pm
Tuesday. 7.13.04 9:19 pm
wow, have i changed. seriously changed alot yet, so little all the same. i was reading my old blog about certain people, things i use to do, people i use to know, and just things. man. I changed alot. I've grown, even since then, (junior year 1st semester and a little of second) I really have changed but, the same old familiarities hold strong. i'm still me, but everchanging. its odd. i'm glad i dont smoke weed anymore. i'm really glad i don't know those people anymore and am who i am now. I like it so much better with a clear head, and open eyes. i dont think i could ever go back to weed. i can't, that time was too fuzzy and i like life now.
that was when i began to get out of my shell and now i am more me than i have ever been. that was the begining. and now, its the process. thats cool.
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Tuesday. 7.13.04 8:47 pm
Ok. I can't stand it. I erased my previous blog and put it on something else. its way too much to put up there and plus, the writing sucks and i dont want to put it up where people can read it. man, the more i think about what i wrote the more i hate it. i really can't write anymore. i wish i could but the more i try the less i can. maybe its that i need to stop trying. but i just can't write. i can't. oh well.
ha ha. jess. but yea, i was really really bored. seriously. i called TWO people! can you believe that? haha, i called you and david. thats the equivilant of me being desperate. haha. i was contemplating wheather or not to call alec but decided against. lol. man, today sucked after i stopped watching Cheech and Chong, and that lasted for like, 20 more mins after i hung up w/ you. I really do have an attention span of a 3 year old. lol.
ok, now i dont know if i want to delete it. fuck, what do i want to do... hrm... i'll keep it. no, i'll erase it. ok we'll let jess choose. Jess, is the last entry SO lame to the point of where it deserves to be buried six feet under or burned? lol. please tell me.
this is stupid of me. i need slit my wrists i'm so sad. lol.
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Tuesday. 7.13.04 5:18 pm
i dont really know if i want to post this on here but i suppose i will. i was reaallly in need to write and this is what came out of my ass. i was thinking about a number of things. its a half ass try at writing a poem that turned into just a random rant about sillouettes and pictures. i uno. but yeah, this is what i wrote:
Hrm. Interesting. slightly and incredibly. interesting. i didnt really articulate my want for a photographer in my life, but i dont really know how to capture it. i think i need to write a poem about it... i should. i think i will.
you watch the night and create memories
and see the trees and all there is to see
its the violet sillouetes that pull you in
its the darkness of your soul and everywhere you've been
right then and there you wish for something
to capture this most beautiful thing
a lense to open the worlds eyes
a film to capture it before it dies
but as you turn awaiting its flash
fuck. there goes my writers block again. fuck. i cant do it. not anymore. its gone. taken out for leave and unwilling to be as i wish it to. sigh. there really isnt a thing in which i can do.
the black reflects you know, the souls run up and down you know. the reflection of the death peirces everything you know. what there is to say and waht there is to do, the crimson light will block it out. worry not, tisn't a thing can harm your so useful bubble, tisn't a tear to break it, only to wash it. what it is, and what it was. the papers turning yellow now,a nd the antiquity astonishes with its ageless apperance. there isnt much but then agian, well, hence, the world is falling now but there really wasn't a world to fall now. was there, is there, can there, be such a world, such a dimension in which one feeds dies and recylces in a beauty they name life. grows, learns, ages, in a curse they name life. poets with their sensitivity, artists with their tools and talents, and people, with their eccentricity. isn't it all interesting, causing an odd affinity? i am humble now to teh steps to above i knwo now that these steps i am not to travel, there are worlds awaiting, and situations made to be. so lets see where it is to turn and where i am to go.
i was watching the night and the silloutes bore their life to me, giving a gift in which means so much to so little. they let me see what little see and what only the night may produce in a dying light. i onlny wish to capture it, in its completeness, and to thy own understanding one will never comprehend the beauty in which i was lovingly allowed to see. To capture it with paper, lenses, and false light, maybe, to share with others everything that i have seen, to give as i have been given. what one as i needs is one with the talent, one with the ablity, one who is capable. but then again there tisn't a person exists who can see as i see, who will be content as i am, watching the rain fall, seeing the trees and the skys gift to all, laying under the ground six feet to experience it all. there isnt a person exists who will. or is there?
done. i did it. not in a poem. but i dont know. does my photographer exist? or is this a blind quest. time will tell.
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