Hullo to everyone, I'm not ded.
Guess what? Emergency Room trip #4 yesterday.
Cause my poor Brians jaw is swollen up big, like yo mommas ass, and it hurts like a bitch. Brian is a good man, he doesn't complain about shit.
This time we got the goods, kind of I guess, that pill with the fancy name Vicodin. Hah...you know..that one.
There was this big fat, trailer-white trash woman in the bed next to Brain at the hospital, she went *poooot* "oops I just farted heh heh". Her son went "I did too, heh heh." Her son kept talking somthing about how his girlfriend was pregnant or somthing and the baby wasn't forming right so they needed somthing to (and I quote) "stick somthing in her kootchie and suck it out."
I gagged. Brian wonders if he heard correctly.
But the problem wasn't sucking somthing out of a girls kootch. It was the big fat momma. She had an oozing wound that "poured water". She says it just "runs down my legs and into my socks, it gets my pants so wet I can wring them out."
I gag, gag, gag, again. Brian gags too. We're glad we have a curtain separating us from them.
In the bed left of us was this little 4 year old kid who fell 10-15 feet out of a window. He was pushing on a screen on his window and he fell out, he smacked his head on the ledge of a bay window and hit the ground.
I'm guessing that kid was fine cause he was laughing and jumping on the bed and stuff. Its so cute when little kids cuss!
kid:"ha haa shit"
momma: what did you say?
kid: nothin heh heh
I offered to play doctor with Brian. He didn't think that was appropriate hospital conduct. heh heh
Life is a big bowl of cherries, I'm happy, seems everyone else is too. At least it seems like no one has a reason to be unhappy, but realistically I suppose that is never the case. I kinda feel like I'm being left out of all your fancy fun. But I know that its my fault for not getting out more. I know I can pick up the phone and call you but hey.. you have a phone too, communicatinon works two ways, so does friendship.
--Helpful Hint: CALL ME SOMETIMES.
sometime soon. Don't forget I love you all, okay?

Is it really possible that a completly alien mode of thinking exists in the minds of humans? Is there somthing beyond everything we are taught in school, by our parents, by society, by our instincts. I want to know if this mode exists, I want to be able to grasp it.
This way of thinking has been sketched out very vaguely in my head. A couple of months ago I was kept awake by a series of dreams about metal pipes, and floating words. I was very depressed during this time, and felt that my life was slipping into this very redundantly lonely trench. I woke up every morning trying to fit the word aluminum into a poem. I felt like my imagineation was trying to overthrow my conciousness.
--and how does this reate to what I'll say next?---well, I suppose it doesn't--
--Maybe just thinking that what I know is very mysterious and there is more to think abou in life than the usual.
People only think about as much as they are taught to think about. We would look at a bulding and never think to count how many windows there were. We would just know that there are many windows. But a person who excercises their mind would take a mental picture of the building and count the windows, and I'm told after a while you would be able to develop the ability to KNOW how many things there are without counting. For example you would look at the window and in a second know there are 132 windows, 8 birds on the telephone wire, 12 lamp posts, 54 dandelions on the lawn.
What I'm talking about is increasing the capacity of your brain to just know.

Think about it, how many number patterns are we conditioned to learn in our lives, maybe 1-10. Watching Sesame Street as a kid I was taught what 3 objects looked like, what 5, 6, 8 objects looked like.
I don't consider my brain very strong, I can't recognize what more than 4 objects in a straight row look like, often when I see five I think "four".
I hear that thinking in a way which increases the amount of objects you recognize will make everything in your life seem like a numerical problem that can be solved with math.
..And how does this all relate to thinking in this very completly foreign way?
--well I forgot what the hell I'm trying to say, its all messed up---
But I suppose it means excercising the mind much more than any average person, believing that there is somthing out there more to be known somthing that trancends emperical and abstract concepts. I'm crazy..don't mind me...

The ultimate perfection of life is misery.
Have you ever seen somthing so horrible, but strangely alluring you can't stop looking at it.
HAve you picked a scab?
I'm facinated with emotional disorder, I'm facinated with depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder. I like to talk to people to try to comfort them, though they will always forget what you have done for them the next time they have an emotional crisis.

Misery is always possible, it can always be elevated, aggrivated, and can spread from person to person.
A tangled web of conciousness, thinking things they cannot understand, things that scare them.

hah...just like me, you still live at home with your parents and you tell me how it's gonna be when I get out into the "real world".
Good God...

My days are wrecked with inconvenience.
Its nothing more isolating than anything else I experience everyday.
I feel like I'm losing more of myself...
I wish you were here.
See you soon!

Today, when I was walking downtown, I saw Sean Springer with an unusually vulnerable expression on his face. For every one man released from captivity how many more are imprisioned?
Then in another instance and another person,well--
Its funny how the slightest facial expression can be more revealing, more disturbing than some actions are. Looking at me that way, was watching someone swerve to hit a housecat crossing the street. You killed a kitty cat in my heart. Have you ever been shocked by the betrayal in a glance? Are you fooled when your friends conceal their feelings under a smile?
Have you ever seen somthing so horrible you have to see it again and again? Have you ever felt concern however frivolous for a stranger that just passes you by?
I'm obsessed, I'm haunted..

I'm disgusted with my lifestyle, I have to build some structure around myself to keep out all the pervasive junk that molds on my intellect like fungi on a shower wall. I feel like my soul is starving to death, in school when I was "participating" in gym class wiffle-ball I noticed how very thin I am. I felt like an ethiopian child standing in the outfield, I was surrounded by well-fed pink and porky american children.
Isolation is my diet of dust and seeds, it is my fault I am so individual, not laughing and energetic like happy, happy, Bethany, not pretty and popular Sarah, or Tai. Society hasn't left anything for me to build me up, I have no sports to keep me moving and not thinking, no church group to keep me a blind slave to treasure in heaven, no mediocre job to make me hard working and responsible. Society owes me nothing, I owe nothing to it in return. I need to save my own self, how?
I saw Rosemary Wells on my walk to the place where I live. She said it was a nice day. I saw a dead chipmunks with flies on it. It smelled bad. What a crazy day. I love you.

Trying to cram an elephant in a tin can is like trying to get all this stuff done so I can graduate highschool. I have so much work to do, it is frustrating, I cannot for the life of me...concentrate. I don't really care about not graduating...I'm crazy you see, but I don't want to be called a failure, failure failure failure, ooh. They are all gonna get so mad at me for not graduating. I'm too stupid to do this right now. All I can think about nowdays is that I'm too stupid to get all this work done. Complaining about this shit consumes most all of my time. I cant concentrate on anyone, or anything. Just try to talk to me you see how incoherant I am. I'm just so tired, so lost.
I can't write anymore, I just don't know how I feel about stuff.
This is so confusing, I'm glad at least I have some very splendid friends that at least try to comfort my obseqious anxiety.

I don't read blogs anymore

Cattell's 16 Factor Test Results Warmth |||||||||||| 34% Intellect |||||||||||||||||| 58% Emotional Stability ||||||||||||||||||||| 62% Aggressiveness ||||||||||||||| 42% Liveliness ||||||||||||||| 50% Dutifulness ||||||||| 26% Social Assertiveness ||||||||| 22% Sensitivity |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 82% Paranoia |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 82% Abstractness ||||||||||||||||||||| 66% Introversion |||||||||||||||||||||||| 74% Anxiety ||||||||||||||||||||| 62% Openmindedness |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 90% Independence ||||||||||||||||||||| 66% Perfectionism ||||||||| 30% Tension ||||||||||||||||||||| 66%

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Hah, I'm not in squell today and you are!

I just got a call from Bruce Castor, Republican Candidate for Pennsylvania Attorney General.
He would like to tell us that he believes in the death penalty, our 2nd amendment rights (right to bear arms) traditional marrage and the sanctity of life (pro-life).
Now, how the hell can you believe in the death penalty AND the "sanctity of life"?
GOD DAMN YOU CONSERVATIVE REPUBLICANS! STOP CALLING ME!


DOWN WITH THE BUSH EMPIRE!

IMPEACH BUSH!
and kill lots of fetuses!

Its depressing, the most important writers in english literature were men. I hate having to write stupid reports about little rich boys, who had their daddies pay for Oxford or Cambridge or wherever, who kissed up to the queen and everything they fucking said was poetic, artistic and insightful. Those knowledgable men who wrote in the language of common man. Oh those men who have said thoughts in ways nobody has. I pee my pants with excitement. They all grew to be cantankerous old men who loved religion and wrote poems of forgotten grecian gods.

If you could fight any celebrity, who would you fight?

If you could fight any historical figure,dead or alive, who would that be?

Who would you fight if you could fight any person in the world?

I've just looked into people too deeply. I just thought to myself that teenager are all extremely shallow people, there is no way around it. They have shallow intents, shallow meathods, shallow reason. I'm shallow. I scream "hey, everybody love me". Everybody screams "everybody fuck me," "I need so much more money, to be the Fuck I want to be." But I just looked to deeply into everyone just like I expected there to be more. I'm pretty dumb, I don't understand things the way other people do. I thought that maybe you had a kinder, braver, more noble heart. I thought that you were so much more audacious, real, braver more admirably uncaring of the criticism of others. I thought maybe your self-proclaimed love was constructed of more solid things than sex and always being just together. But I'm not being critical, I'm just voicing my horrible dissillusionment that I've carried with me for a while now. I know people aren't what they seem, I know they aren't what I expect, but why can't we all just try to be better people.
Someone please, please, take me out behind the old red barn and shoot me, 'cause a pathetic creature like me, clinging desperately on to my holy self-fucking-righteous innocence has no practical use. Please discard me like an out-of-date epson inkjet printer, chuck me out the window. I've outlived my usefulness.

Angry Young Man
Billy Joel

There's a place in the world for the angry young man
With his working class ties and his radical plans
He refuses to bend, he refuses to crawl
and he's always at home with his back to the wall.
He's proud of the scars and the battles he's lost
He struggles and bleeds as he hangs on the cross
And he likes to be known as the angry young man.

Give a moment or two to the angry young man
With his foot in his mouth and his heart in his hand
He's been stabbed in the back, he's been misunderstood
It's a comfort to know his intentions are good
He sits in a room with a lock on the door
with his maps and his medals laid out of the floor
And he likes to be known as the angry young man.

I believe I've passed the age of consciousness and righteous rage,
I've found that just surviving was a noble fight
I once believed in causes too, had my pointless point of view
Life went on no matter who was right or wrong.

And there's always a place for the angry young man
With his fist in the air and his head in the sand
He's never been able to learn from mistakes
He can't understand why his heart always breaks
His honor is pure, and his courage as well
he's fair and he's true, and he's boring as hell
And he'll go to his grave as an angry old man.

There's a place in the world for the angry young man
With his working class ties and his radical plans
He refuses to bend, he refuses to crawl
and he's always at home with his back to the wall.
He's proud of the scars and the battles he's lost
He struggles and bleeds as he hangs on the cross
And he likes to be known as the angry young man.

Always present is this horrible lonliness, like somthing in me just crawled under a rock and died. I feel like I'll never understand anyone but myself, I'll never feel comfortable just being with people. I'm always thinking look at how far he got in so little time. Look how she can just start a conversation with just anyone. I wonder at the relationships, the communications of everyone. Why can't I do that? I want to contribute to the happiness of others, I want to say what you say in my own way. I'm incapable...just incompetent of getting along with people. I pity myself though I hate pity.

Title: The Fading

Subtitle:
"I Hope my Crappy Poetry Streak
Fades Before I REALLY Embarass Myself"
by Naya

Bow my head
and my eyes away
from the plastic sky
and the light of day
What I felt
was bitter strong
spent to long
in fluorecent sun
Wish I knew
what I meant
could I
justify
the time I've spent?
searching for
a face
a living moment
images in clouds
precious intents
glaring down
laughing
laughing at me
at my loving
laughing at my nothing
the skies fade
fade away
it fades away
it all just fades away

Good lord, my poetic and artistic skills have turned to dust. Hwagg... and when It comes to my common sense... well I just haven't seen that bitch for some long time.
I just discovered that I lead a completely aimless existance. I can't deny it, I've just up and lost my head. Sayonara!
Good night, sweet prince and may flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.

Honestly this is the absolute epitomy of retardspeak but it is so amusing to read this out loud:
AWRIATE SAO TIAMMY TAOKK mea hias goalf coause thais teime and i aws soo happay thean rayachel came aout waich ways HOTT baut thean...earin came aout. ia hate thaaata fauaking baitch. awhy thae fauck doeas tiamy loaik hear soo mauxch??? it ahonesatly kaills mea. i loave him asooo muach. anad mea awnd earin eacutaly hased asomething goaing on lasa;t year buat thais yeasr we adoant eavaen talk and ai caasnta staeand hur!!!.

ah haa haa... this kills me.

I bet I find myself thinking about you, at least 10 times today.
Not a lot considering the amount of thoughts I have in a day.
But certainly more than I'd think about anyone else.
This is nice, very nice.

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Launching bottle rockets out of a doll's ass... I thought I grew out of being compelled to do stuff like that but doing it makes me want to do it more. Simple minds, simple pleasures ey?

I think it would do me good somtimes to have someone call me an idiot.
I need a mirror for my soul so I can see who I think I am, because I'm stumbling in the dark *yawn* cliche cliche...
I'm perplexed, I don't even know if I hate myself of love myself.
I'm blind, and the only vision I have is what I think I might be someday, but I don't know if I'm near or far from it.
I wonder if it is narcissistic to look into one's head, as it is to always look into a mirror.

Hooray! They found my purse at the parish center. I'm glad some dirty shmuck didn't steal it.

I am 45% Tortured Artist

I have some artistic ability, but it is probably a hobby and doesn't drive my life into a dark abysmal hole where I am alone and against the world.

Take the Tortured Artist Test at fuali.com

I hope I sleep and dream where I'm about walking over the hills during the prime of fall when the leaves are insanely gold and blood red. Then in this dream, I'll find myself to be 20 pounds lighter and much skinnier and I'm dressed in white, I'll fall into a pool of the clearest spring water and lie there staring at the bottom. The pool will have sunset pink flowers nuzzling the sandy floor I watch them dance and feel so very happy. I'll roll onto my back and watch the whipped cream clouds float by. I'll sink under the water and I'll watch the sunlight dance on its surface until I go blind. I'll find myself on the forest floor again, lying on a bead of leaves. The sunlight will dry my skin and make me feel warm again. Then snow white feahters will fall from he sky, blown free in the wind from the giant feather trees. Tiny, fat bluebirds will hop and sing in the feather trees, and fly down to peck at my fingers. I'll stand and walk westward toward the building. The abandoned cement structure 50 stories high. There will be many rusty pipes there and steel beams sticking out from the walls. An iron staircase leads to the very top of this structure, to the gaping hole in the roof where rain pours in, but there is no rain on this day. A blue sky can be seen peeking in. I'll climb up these stairs, there will be a robot there. This robot is made of an iridescent silvery beetle shell. It is not an obnoxious robot made to copy and manufacture and distroy. It just exisists to exisist. I climb to the top and out onto the roof, there is bliss there, there is no one, nothing animate, only vines and flowers. I look over the edge to see a swamp spreading out in all directions, I hear the faint chirping of spring peepers. It is sunset now. I wander back home, throught the lush forests, over the water, my feet won't touch the ground. Is my love at home yet?
Do I care? I sleep. I wake.
That's the dream I want to have.

You are blessed with FAERY wings. Beauty,
laughter, life, magic...that's what you are all
about. You are refreshingly innocent and happy
with your life of purity and play. Life's a
game and it's a good one. In your eyes there's
no way to lose! You can be very mischeivous and
have been known to cause trouble, but it's all
in the name of fun and not meant to really harm
anyone. You like to play tricks on people who
aren't quite as bright or clever as you - which
is almost everyone. Nature is the setting you
prefer to be in - Always. Barefoot and wild you
can't be tamed. You're probably a restless
spirit who loves to travel, and quite a
dreamer. Your creativity is astounding and your
art (of whatever media - from writing to
painting to drama) is like something from
another world - ethereal and often very
fantasy-oriented. You can either be a social
butterfly or a loner with their head in the
clouds - but rarely inbetween. You stubbornly
refuse to accept responsibility or to give in
to the wishes of others - unless you feel like
it. You have a strong passion for music and
can't imagine life without it. You'll grow up
someday, but you'll always be a child at heart.
You are adventurous and love to take risks, and
feel a deep connection with the weather,
plants, and animals. You prefer sunshine to
thunder or snow, the warmth of summer to
autumn's chill, and quiet forests to suburban
backyards. Magic through and through, you are
far more powerful than you seem, and are
capable of being extremely passionate. Though
you can be childish, naive, stubborn, and
self-absorbed, one thing is certain - life with
you will never be boring!


*~*~*Claim Your Wings - Pics and Long Answers*~*~*
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finally .. someone normal !! lol your awesome


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Dear Jesus, I'm playing Pogs.

Don't not take the medication?!?
I really want to know if the pills are good or bad.
I feel rather moderate about them, but knowing that I might have to take them someday I really want to more about them.
I do know that it would be wrong to walk into a normal medical doctor's office say "I'm feeling a little down" and get a bunch of what we call "happy pills" or antidepressants. First of all, it isn't at all right that a medical doctor should just write a perscription without the consent of some mental health practitioner. Second of all it is completely wrong that a doctor or anyone should give a pill to make it all magically just all so much easier. A little pill to make up for the apathy of a society. When what they really need is to do is help a person through hard times, or help them find couseling, or just be their friend. But depression is a real disease and pills might just be neccissary. Medication makes it easier for a person to just live with themselves, have the energy to at least be able to do what they really want to do. It could help treat an imbalance that made life confusing, unbearable, or difficult. Of course there are side effects but there is to everything we experience in life. I just don't know.
Is this the way it is "here's your damned pill, hand over the money and you can be fucking happy with your mediocre life"?
Is this the way it is "this treatment won't exactly make the world a bright and shiny place but it will help you to try and be happy, to be able to feel like doing what you feel you need to do"?
Depression is hard enough, how can people feel confident about making a decison on their own treatment.
It doesn't make it any easier when people don't understand. They will tell you to "just smile" and to "just have some fun".
I hear that telling a depressed person to be happy is like telling an insomniac to get more sleep. Indeed. I certainly believe that. While it is sort of comforting to see your friends concerned it is also rather disheatening to have them notice you are sad and kind of single you out. Sometimes people just need time to think about things, time to be sad, time to be alone. But it is also important to be their for your friend and try to understand. Its not easy, fuck no, not at all. Its a very delicate situation sometimes and it sucks when people run their mouths about things they don't know. But I always feel that it is rewarding to have patience.

The pressures of this world crushing us, invisible burdens of mythril or whatever you would call imaginary substance of legendary strength. Life is pointless, it is meaningless. I know, I can see great piles of everything obscuring a panorama of nothing and nothing. Like pictures of adorable cut outs of a teenage girls boyfriends on her wall. Useless piled on nothing. But it makes her happy. Television, books, clothing, computers, religion mass diversion, medication, drugs, people, anything of mass or substance or ideas tangible and untangible they make us happy or angry or whatever. Our splendid soma. What does it matter if we live or die? Is death worse than walking around manipulating objects, our pencils with our fingers, our feet to touch the ground, our minds around our problems? Could death be a lack of ability to manipulate our minds and bodies, what if we gain somthing else we cannot even comprehend as we exist now as mind and body? What if we just stop? I can't remember the time before I was born. I do know that I have this instinct that I should be alive. I know how it is to be alive, what "living" means. Look at through the eyes of a computer or a rock. They do not move or manipulate in any concious manner, there is no intelligence in their way. What it is to be alive is to make and do more than what is not intelligent, concious or unable to move grow or reproduce. Living is moving, running, standing, making, doing, reproducing, thinking, writing, creating, distroying, killing, hating, loving. The people of the world have us think that living is one thing, living for god, living for others, living for to getting married getting a good job having children and dying. Well it is just not one thing or another, not to me. Living in a system is like living like a computer somthing inanimate, programmed to do everything it does, like people are programmed by society what to do. I do not want to live like an animal, they have their instincts that make them follow their own determined path. I'm a human I have a will perhaps not totally free of instinct or programming but I can very well make decisions that natures zombies couldn't make. I am full of so many endless possiblities. I'm told I hold so much "potential" and when I find out what the hell that is supposed to mean and for what I'll be alive. Because now I feel so dead, sitting and typing, having people talk down to me all the time, not knowing how to manipulate my clumsy limbs and my clouded mind. When I say "things are gonna get better" I mean that I feel like I'm gonna be resurrected to life, to be what I know I can be, what everybody else is and more importantly what nobody is.
I love ranting like a crazy man, but I dunno how to explain just how much I cherish being alive, and life, and how shitty I feel when I am confused about what sort of path I should blaze and when I see other people denying themselves their lives and happiness.
Ha.. I'm silly.

From now on I'll be adding pictures to my blog.


A creation that I am most proud of!

"Do you go to the dungeon, to find out how to make peace with your days in the dungeon?
Writing a letter to you didn't make me feel any more useful than when we weren't speaking."
Look at me! I'm an emo kid posting lyrics on my blog...

You must be pretty peeved right now then, eh?

What pisses you off?

Created by ptocheia

I feel pretty darn good.
And I know that because I don't feel like writing "oh woe is me" or "you stupid capitalist pigs" or "I am teh suck" blog entries.
I feel pretty good because I'm making new friends and making better friends with the ones I already have.

I really like sunshine. I love the colors it makes. It makes yellow, peach and gold clouds in the morning, white puffy clouds in the afternoon and red, pink and purple in the evening. I love the sunlight in the late afternoon when im standing in the middle of the street downtown and all the bulidings are left in the shadows but the hills and houses up the street are still illuminated in gold. I like the way the sunlight glows red on the sides of the houses at sunset. I love to look out Christa's kitchen door and watch the way the light from the hills run into the clouds and fade away. I loved to sit on Jimmy's porch in the fall and see the neighborhood, the hills and the clouds drenched in gold and red. I don't think that anyone has really taken the time to observe how perticularly beautiful the light lies on the hills surrounding the high school. In the fall, during gym class I stood in the football field and almost cried at how beautiful the light looked reflecting off the mists burning off the hills.
I love how sunlight burns the skin. I love how it is always warm and even on the coldest days one can stand in front of the window and absorb the heat. I even sleep at the opposite side of the bed so I can look right out of the window and see light before I go to sleep or when I wake up.

God, my blog is so amusing...

"--cut cut cut...
hating every day
and growing insane
a rush to hide your wakeining pain
to obscure the scars that "healed in time"
somthing warm makes you remember you are alive"
----------
probably don't remember that poem I wrote, Its about cutting yourself to feel better.
I never cut myself so really I wouldn't know but I know plenty of people who have.
Anyway, I think I'll equate cutting with internet romance.
Cutting is just somthing useless, and counterproductive. It doesn't really make you feel better.
Internet romance is useless, counterproductive and after all is said and done doesn't make you feel better.
But I don't want to get myself misunderstood again.
Like back in the darkages I compaired my romance with a certain someone to a t-shirt I had outgrown. He thought I meant him. It is so stupid to sit in front of a screen all "snufflywufflykins"
Sigh, but me and my stupid defective short term memory went back and fell again....
and again...
and again....
and fuck...
I never fucking learn.
I only ever told the truth. I always really did feel what I said I did.
Except when it came to saying what it is like, realistically to be in a relationship like this. Its twisted reality in conveinent little box. It's a chocolate egg with no cadburry cream. A promise of a sweet little treat. All words and no SEX!! No hugs, no hand holding, no pleasure of you just being there.
Ah haa haa... Somthing that is really silly to think of considering that I'd been doing this since I was about 14. Stupid bitch(bitch being me). It sucks and its so very bad for my mental health.
It just sucked so bad, It still sucks.
I felt like you just up and left me and took my faith and my voice along with you. One of the few people I could just sit down and, I could just compose my thoughts and I could talk..argh..
So, my computer time is reserved for friends and writing my Hamlet essay only. I suppose I could only speculate if you would still want to be my friend, I'll leave that up to you.
But anyway...what I guess I'm saying through this is that I'm stupid and I've been though this a million times, I'm a coward and I chase my tail in a spiral, down and down. I'm done talking about it.

It's fucking crazy..
I need to be a better person. Set a better example for the people around me. I have a sister and friends, and I feel like somehow I'm dragging them all down. I run in circles, I'm a hipocrite. I keep on doing what I know is wrong. I havn't been supportive enough. I just know I can do more but Its so much my habit to say the wrong thing, to put everything off until its too late, and to hide all of my fear. I hate myself, I hate that I don't change when I know I can.

I am 69% Evil Genius

Evil courses through my blood. Lies and deceit motivate my evil deeds. Crushing the weaklings and idiots that do nothing but interfere in my doings.

Take the Evil Genius Test at fuali.com

Why do I have to be so damned critical of everything all the time? Oh look at me now, being critical of me being critcal. And now being critical of me being critical of me being critical of.......
awww fuck..

I was gonna write somthing completely different frome what I am now but I just saw somthing that just made me sick. There was this blog called "HOT ABERCROMBIE CHICK". That makes me sick. Its so sad when people had over their identity to corporate labels.
I'm pretty sick of Abercrombie too. Their clothes really aren't that great, they are assembled in a sweatshop in a third-world country, overpriced and marketed shamlessly to spoiled rich kids. Well just like everything else the USA. The world is fucked...everything is fucked!

I had a dream last night that I was crawling through a bramble bush with my friend and suddenly lost all control of my sense of direction. I got so confused and disorented I couldn't crawl backwards out of the dead end. I was so blind I just rolled over and squirmed like a worm and watched the sky and earth spin all around. There were people there that wanted to help me find my way out but I was haveing a seizure, I was in a trance. Someone tried to cut a branch loose so I could see the people trying to help me and I could see them. But the branch landed on my head and it hurt so fucking bad and it didn't help at all. I would just sit there forever and my friend would be trapped with me, it would be my fault, I lead her into danger, and we would both die.

I wonder why the chewing gum producers fail to mention that gum base is food grade plastic. Synthetically altered reisens derived from natural sources. Plastic. I like the idea of chewing on plastic, I like plastic erasers, and the grips and nubs from mehanical pencils. They are more satisfying to chew on than gum sometimes. When I think of my gum being polymer, I feel happier about chewing it.

I just thought:
What I need now is comfort, some gentle persuasion, a hug, a voice of an angel whispering in my ear to give me confidence and tell me everything is okay and that I'm wonderful. Yes, a perpetual angel whispering to me....
But how long could I trust a voice like that. How could I trust somthing that always chants, "you are precious, you are beautiful, brilliant, good....."
When I am lazy, and weak, fearful and an absolute good for nothing. My life has very little value as contributing to society is concerned. How could I trust somthing that would tell me I'm good when I know that I'm really not such an admirable person.
And then I saw myself:
I know this experience inside-out. I'm an angel, or was one, ... Not as heaven or that shit is concerned, but when I whispered my loving chants to him. A voice of a fucking fuzzy spirited idealist, an optimistic Disney Princess.
I always believed in him. And he believes that he is worthless. He didn't believe me after a while just as I know I would stop believing if a voice like that spoke to me. That crazy man who screams that this voice in his head was too good of company for him.
Goddamnit....
were I a fucking demon, I would always be with you...
-------------------
( no more internet romance for me!! AH HAA HAA)

Who questions of how and what I do,
by conducting experiments both kind and cruel?
Picking what I sing for as the best
I know the pains and benefits of this test.

We live in America. I was told from elementary school that this is the best country to live in.
And when I was a kid I could believe it. We are fed at least three blanced meals a day with snacks most times. The president is the smartest guy in the world because he rules our wonderful country. The army protects the USA in case of invaders. We will always be safe and cared for in the good ol USA. Sleep well at night.
Well we live in a wonderful country, I always can feed myself, I can go buy stupid shit at Hot Topic, I sleep in a warm house, in a warm bed, in a safe little town tucked far away in the hills. I have some family that loves me, a little pet cat, all the computer time I could ever want. Videogames, Television, Movies, CD's, makeup, magazines, books, posters. More than my mother had, more than my mother's mother, both combined.
So.. If I live in the land of plenty, the land of opportunity,
I reasonably have nothing to be sad about.
But why do I cry like a child every fucking night? I'm just a fucking EMO kid right. Crying cause my daddy took the keys away from my brand new SUV. Well.. WELL? I'm ungrateful and lazy, my mother hints when I tell her I am tired. I'm told I don't know what tired is. Tired is working my ass off in a stuffy basement and came home and making dinner and doing dishes for my family. ....That is true I know....
I'm not tired..not in the way you thought... or maybe I am ungrateful, lazy, sad fucking EMO kid...

I cry from lonliness, despair, remorse, self-loathing, hoplessness, fear, and pain. Every emotion that everyone fears. I fear it especially, but not so much that I fear to express it. Which makes me feel set much apart from everyone else.

I keep thinking that everyone fears to express themselves, even just a little bit. When you vent your grief you say I'm such a fucking emo kid. No. Those are perfectly valid feelings. Its so stupid to say they really have not emotional merit.
Its stupid for eveyone I know to repress themselves from what they feel.

I can't quite describe this thought I have its so clear it has so much meaning to me.....
This fucking land of substance, objects, image.....fucking america....it's fucking people....
What good is this country if people deny the pain of the world, of themselves and go shopping and watch TV....
Where is the emotion, where is the heart?
What I'm trying to say through all of this is that feeling somthing isn't wrong. Expressing it isn't wrong (within reason). Without expressing emotion you will grow to be fearful of it. "Just smile" everyone says. I know they mean well but a fake smile won't do. Only if I tell you will I somehow feel better. Fuck.. I can't find the words to explain... I hope that somehow you try to understand what I mean.
Emotion is ugly. People don't want to hear what they fear.
Appearances are deciving yet much more comfortable.
A plastic smile on a happy meal toy..

I'm not being critical. I do not know these answers. They are just questions.
Is society trying to standardize us as human products. Medicate us. Supress us. Council, press their ideals into us.
Destroy us when we don't conform emotionally, intellectually, and financially? Toss us away when us, the gears and cogs of the machine of capitalism break down, become useless? Or are we failing because we ARE crazy?
Is it both?
Is society better than it was before? Are our lives really worth much more than in the past? Are our living conditions better, are we not well fed, fat, satiated, intoxicated? Is society, the government, the scientists, the doctors really devoted to make things better, heal us, or are they just trying to numb us, lie to us, cover up our pains? Are they trying to help us be able to motivate us keep us going? Are they really trying to be good to us?

Who is society? Who is us? Who are the Government, the scientists, the doctors the preachers, the institutions? Why?

Burden In My Hand Soundgarden

I shot my love today would cry for me
I lost my head again would you lie for me
I left her in the sand just a burden in my hand
I lost my head again would you cry for me

Follow me into the desert
As thirsty as you are
Crack a smile and cut your mouth
And drown in alcohol
Course down below the truth is lying
Beneath the riverbed
So quench yourself and drink the water
That flows below her head

Oh no there she goes
Out in the sunshine the sun is mine

I shot my love today would cry for me
I lost my head again would you lie for me
I left her in the sand just a burden in my hand
I lost my head again would you cry for me

Close your eyes and bow your head
I need a little simpathy
Cause fear is strong and love's for everyone
Who isn't me
So kill your health and kill yourself
And kill everything you love
And if you live you can fall to pieces
And suffer with my ghost
Just a burden in my hand
Just an anchor on my heart
Just a tumor in my head
And I'm in the dark

I have this silly idea that somehow, there is this single golden thread of goodness in the universe. This is the law of the universe that there must always be goodness in the world, I do not mean God, or glory or heaven. I mean there is this balance of goodness in the world, thats unavoidable. It creates miracles, generates luck, allows us to live and see and love people and things and is the light in a universe full of darkness. Its a string with beads on it, beads being people and things and we are all held together by it.
I'm fucking talking like a crazy person *sigh*..
But I've seen too many things that just oppose my idea. It scares me that everything the cynics say might be true, that life is about buying stupid shit, about doing stupid shit, sex, drugs, and violence. The world is a cruel fucking place so get over it. It must be true right, that lack of stupid shit will make you a miserable, ugly prude. I'm the most miserable person I know, it must be true because I have nothing that the world considers important!!!!!! I'm miserable because I watch everyone I know being so fucking happy with everything I wish I had, I wish even if it caused me more pain to experience.
No.. I'm miserable because I know I can change it all, for me and for everyone in some small way, but I don't.
Its all just so silly, I've been living in my own head for too long.
I say such stupid things. I just sit here an think about life but never do anything.

Why is it so much easier for me to believe in destiny than in hope?
When it comes to my future I just let things happen, I don't make plans I just let it run its course.
So far this belief had served me well. I always feel myself being pushed in ironic and unusual situations but I usually come out either on top as things just fall into place.
I can't help but feel somthing horrible, somthing fearsome is waiting for me in the not too distant future. I don't know, and its awful how afraid it is making me. Its like a sword of Damocles.
I know my belief in fate is going to fail me.
Hope, planning for a fruitful future is what I need now, but why am I so afraid to try to have them?

Christmas. I got almost everything I've always wanted, except a life, but from reading my blog...well you know how goes!
Ah haa haa, well I'm full to the brim with Christmas cheer, or maybe just Grandma's sugar cookies. I ate my weight in pickled herring and m&m's. I adore my DVD's and my magazines and stuff. I got jammies and underware too, yay! I also can't forget that splendid RIGORMORTIS shirt I got from Jimmy and Katie, I'll wear it every day!
Well it seems I'm being a selfish little bitch rambling about what I got but I guess it is the only thing I have to talk about considering how much of a slacker I am. I didn't get any presents for anyone....well maybe a John Mayer CD for my mom. I guess getting her that was pretty generous of me considering that is the last CD I would ever want to listen to and I hope I never hear it played all the way through. But It made her happy I suppose.
I wanted to get presents for all you guys but, alas.. there is nothing but crap in the olean mall. Whatever. This holiday isn't about presents or friends anyway, IT'S ABOUT THE BIRTH OF OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST!!!!!!
F all that. I have a christmas hug for everyone. I also have my very own jar of pickled herring so I'll share that too.
Happy Holidays!
-----Hey, anyone having a holiday party?
Invite me, I'm so funny when I'm drunk!

Happy Birthday to me!
Rockin the 1-8 in tha house,
or somthing like that...

The last poem is unfinished, but I had to get it out before November is over. I feel like I've been asleep for 3 months. I know I have. I just don't know how to explain what november is to me.
Well, just look out the window.
Everything is dead and brown, the trees are bare and the warmth of summer has faded.
All the things I should have accomplished this year.... The warmths of spring and summer are hope. The hope and promise this year had, but I have screwed it all up. The hope fades to a chill and now winter approaches. I can't stand the cold.
Maybe if I had just stored up some hope and love for the winter it would not be so cold. If I had just done somthing these past 11 months instead of living in my stupid mixed up head. What the hell was all this speculation for, without action it is all useless. My reward for my hermatage is more hermitage. More lonelyness. More cold, more cold.
November, its all about death to me. I look outside to the walls of my prison, the hills covered in trees. No leaves. Fall back, it gets dark at 4:30. Im enshrouded in my coffin, (Coudersport) It gets dark so early in the day.. and it just gets colder outside the temperature drops. I just cant explain....
someone said: "I can understand why someone would want to die this time of year,
but why would you want to be born in November."
it was such a thoughtless patronizing thing to say..
It didn't comfort me either at the time, It was all just too much
Im just a rude thing born in the season of the dead.
I still mourn, I still remember this is November...
its too much to think about the beginning and end in one month.

---November--

One day's Indian summer is swept away by a chilling breeze,
The festive orange, yellow and red, depart from the shivering trees.
The slothful sun slips down the hills, evading the end of the day.
The leaves blowing in the wind, trace winters crystilline way..

November is the start
of the turning of my heart
down autumn's dimly lighted road.
Loneliness is this month's somber mode.
I want to flare out and burn the dark
But can only stir the ashes in my heart,
I can only life the voice inside of me
So well as to whimper an elegy.

November is the start
of the turning of my heart.
Its the Twilight of the seasons,
where I wander without reason.
-Naya

ah what the hell..somthing to read if you are really bored
urban legends

Wow... I almost forgot about it.. but I've done somthing right! *dance dance*
My heart sings!

You are American culture! Japan is fascinated with
you, even if you're not always up to the
standards in your home country. Men and women
alike try to emulate everything you do.


Which bizarre Japanese phenomena are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

---My Galley Charged With Forgetfulness--
--Thomas Wyatt--

My galley charged with forgetfulness

Through sharp seas, in winter nights doth pass

'Tween rock and rock; and eke mine enemy,alas,

That is my lord, steereth with cruelness,

And every oar a thought in readyness,

As though that death were light in such a case.

An endless wind doth tear the sail apace

Of forced sighs and trusty fearfulness.

A rain of tears, a cloud of dark disdain,

Hath done the wearied cords great hinderance;

Wreathed with error and eke with ignorance.

The stars that be hid that led me to this pain.

Drowned is reason that should me consort,

And I remain dispairing of the port.

you are the "you suck, and that's sad"
happy bunny. your truthful, but can be a bit
brutal.


which happy bunny are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

I'm pretty damn proud of myself that I got a good grade on my english journal. I know that talking about grades and stuff is boring and stuff but I've been struggling with formal writing for a looooong time. OMG! I WIN!! 48/50
...and I'd like to thank all of the little people and jesus for putting me where I am today!


Ichi - "That one with wisdom"
Sponsored by www.life-blood.cjb.net


What would your Japanese name be? (female)
brought to you by Quizilla

Okay, haven't posted in a while, I'm just not as motivated to do stupid stuff like this anymore cause I think I should be doing somthing else. Though, I don't do worthwhile stuff anyway so I guess Its fine I resort to midless ranting.
-----
Now that I look back on it. I guess homecoming wasn't so bad. I didn't have my heartbroken, and I wasn't too lonely, just felt a little awkward. It was really stoopid how everyone got so dressed up for such a shoddy shindig. It was just like going to school with an expensive dress and intricate hairdo. It probably would have been better if I had went to school that way I could look fancy for 8 hours instead of the 4 hours I spent at homecoming.
Anyway, it was worth it just to play hack in my facy dress and shoes. I find that thought extremely amusing. I also enjoyed the fact that people didn't recognize me cause I was all spiffied up and sexalicious for once, Instead of my frizzy hair, baggy pants and grease stained sweatshirts. I can't wait until my pictures get developed, I might have christa post them on her blog. I bet I look drunk in every picture! KICKASS!

--Hoemcoeming--

sucked.

--Bitter
why do all my friends find themselves on a path to self destruction, self-depreciation or depression. Does it just come with the territory, having friends on the very bottom rung of the social ladder?
Its it strange coincidence.. I don't know. Its so strange.. I know I have my problems too. There are very few of my friends I can name that haven't either been taken to drug-rehab, to the psychiatric ward, to juvenile hall, to foster homes, or dropped out of school. I also can't name many who haven't tried to kill themself, or worse.. I know some that were into hard-core drug use.
Is it that I make friends with troubled people? Could I be troubled too?
I don't know if anyone can understand how lonely it is when your new best buddy just dissapears. When you find out that they have been in a psychiatric ward or drug-rehab.
I wonder was there anything I could have done to influence them to stop.
I think about it often. I am too weak, boring, stupid for anyone to really listen to?
I think I'd have to scream in your face for you to understand, but even then.. I'd just be screaming. That wouldn't accomplish anything. I just want all my friends to know that they torture me sometimes. I can't make them be happy I can't make them hear me. Oh, but if only they would listen! ...listen just for a while... there is help... just like there are mechanics for cars... like technical support when you screw up windows.
I don't know what else to say I'm so frustrated with everyone's attitudes now. They just don't realize their significance in my life. Your hope is my hope, without my friends i have nothing to hope for. I struggle with the same demons, i know.. to see my friends lose to them is discouraging to me.

----IV----

The second pool was bulging at the seams with all of the people in it. It seemed that this pool was filled with what seemed to be mud. It looked kind of fun, to be frolicking in a pool full of mud. So I asked a girl who was wading into the pool what was going on. She told me that it was okay because it was only sewage run-off and not real shit. I was completely shocked and my stomach began to churn. With this knowledge I stood and watched them for a while. Gradually the people began to fall into a trance. They began to writhe and squirm. They began stripping themselves naked and squirmed like thousands of maggots in a carcass. People then, started to sink under the “mud” and nobody noticed or cared. They were all enthralled by bathing in their own shit. My blood turned to ice, a million spears of shock pierced my chest and back. I froze into place with a wide-eyed stare. I tried to scream for help but it caught in my throat. My heart beat so aggressively at my ribs I thought my chest would burst. I screamed again and looked for anything that I could do to save these people. I spotted two people above the pool standing on an iron catwalk suspended above the pool. I climbed up the iron steps that lead up to the walkway.
There was a woman in a pink business suit, standing there. I pleaded to her to stop what was going on but she just glanced at her partner, a man in a gunmetal gray business suit. He was pushing buttons on a large control panel. He turned and looked at me nonchalantly and stopped what he was doing.
I became aware of the fact that they were the people who were running the operation. They only said to me that the people were doing what made them feel good, and that it was their job to operate this monstrous death tank. . I was quite convinced that these two people were either demons, or dual facets of the soul of the devil himself! I told them that they had no business doing that, no matter what the circumstances are. They might not be considered to be the nicest people in the world by my scruffy friends but they don’t deserve to be treated that way. I might consider them to be shallow and uncaring. But this is wrong and evil to take advantage of these people.

----V-----
Suddenly I found myself plunged into darkness. I was standing in what seemed to be a dank and musty cave. The floors were flat and black, and covered with slime. The walls were carved elaborately with high arches of gothic style. The walls rose about 200 feet and at the base of these walls were skulls. Some of the skulls were massive carved stone but most of them were real skulls. Hundreds of thousands of these skulls lined the walls—walls that seemed to wind down into a never-ending tunnel.
A voice rang down from the walls saying that this was the very bottom of the cesspool. The voice told me that it would difficult to see all of this if I had been one of the unfortunate few to sink through the shit. The voice was of the woman. She told me that she had drained it so I could clearly understand what the pool meant and what the bottom signified. “As you can see it would be hard to see the truth of your mortality peering through an abyss of shit.
I blinked and was transported again, to the other pool. This time the pool was filled with water and I was swimming downwards about 30 feet. The misty water had a bluish appearance at this depth. I witnessed a boy swimming about 20 feet below me into the darkness. He was a dark shadow assimilating with the abyss of blackness before him. I blinked again and I was closer to the bottom of the pool. I saw the boy clearly. I witnessed a horrified look on the boy’s face when he saw the skulls at the bottom of this pool. He struggled to swim upwards. Suddenly I became the boy and I realized I did not have enough breath to reach the surface again. As I looked up and saw my last fading glimpse of light above I panicked. I only wanted to see how deep the pool was. I only wanted to know its depth… I was too young to die. I couldn’t believe I was to die like this.

----VI-----
Again I was transported. I found myself back at the bottom of the empty cesspool. I heard a voice again, but I was my own.
“So it seems that you are trying to tell me that all these people are oblivious to their inevitable demise. Though they can choose the purity of the way they live their life they still cannot realize that they will eventually die. A person can choose to swim through clouded water all their life and realize the end when it is too late, or can be blinded by their own worthless shit and never realize that they are destroying themselves or dragging others down.
Are there other choices other than clouded or muddy water?
What is a better choice: to see the end when it is too late to do anything,
or see nothing at all and not care for anything?
Do all swimmers think that they live forever?
Is there a clear pool?
Do I have to choose between these pools?
What if I don’t choose at all?
Why did you show me this?
Do I have to save these people?
Are these people living their lives the wrong way?
What does this all mean when applied to reality?
Why was this knowledge given to me? ”

The Nightmare
part three

----III----

I didn’t really understand what they meant until they opened the door to the poolroom. There were hundreds of people in this room too. Everyone in this room was either a teenager or a young-hearted adult.
I decided to go for a swim, regardless of weather the boys liked it or not. I realized though, that I had forgotten my swimsuit. It didn’t really phase me though because there were a couple of other naked people in the pool. I began to strip when I realized that the people in that pool were not acting normal. They kind of seemed to be in a trance and bobbed in the water and swayed. The water didn’t look very good either it looked a bit cloudy and dirty. I decided that swimming now, at least in this pool would not be a good idea.
I glanced at my comrades. Who contrasted with their black t-shirts with all of the “preps” wearing bright bathing suits. They pointed to a stairway on the left side of the pool. Those stairs lead to a second floor where there was another pool just behind a tile wall.

The Nightmare
Part 2
----II----

Having found nothing else I considered to be worthwhile; And having not found a sign of anyone else in the first building. I crossed the lawn to the other building that lied to the west. It was strange to see that there was not a single soul outside, considering that there were a couple hundred there before I went into the first house. I figured that everyone must be inside of the second building because there was nobody in the first.
The interior of the house on the left, was for the most part, a twin of its counterpart. It had the same broken windows, whitewashed walls and floors carpeted in decaying leaves. I found my mom, and about 300 other adults in this auditorium. They were waiting for a show to start. I asked my mother, when the show would start but she did not know; she didn’t even know what the show was about or if there would even be a show that day.
The auditorium was just as large as the first even with hundreds of middle aged people in it. The place seemed very ominous for a reason I couldn’t quite grasp. Perhaps I though that the enormous fans and ventilation shafts on the ceiling would suck me into them, or that they would fall and crush us all. I was quite anxious to leave that place and go exploring on my own. I left my sister with my mom and struck out alone.
After about an hour of wandering through snaking white washed corridors. I found a room with a couple of scruffy looking teenage boys in it. This too, was an auditorium. It however was a smaller room, with a low ceiling, and sort of looked like some sort of supply closet. There was a small stage with some strange looking band playing on it. It was a creepy show that didn’t make sense at all. All of the performers just walked up and down the stage in flashy clothes or just sitting and staring into space, they didn’t seem very attractive to me with their pretentious acting. The boys didn’t seem very interested in the show either and were playing hack in the back of the room.
I made my presence known to them, with a loud salutation and they stopped what they were doing. I noticed that they all wore black t-shirts and had black or dark brown hair. They seemed to all look almost alike, and move alike, as if they were all brothers. They crowded around me and started talking to me. They told me that they were bored and fed up with all of the stupid people that were hanging around. That everyone that had been walking over the Mansion’s lawns were shallow, inconsiderate preps. They said that they had come to this room because the preps weren’t there, and that there wasn’t anything else in the mansion worth seeing. They were only in this room because there was music and the people in it made it seem less lonely. They said that really wanted to get out and find something better to do though and they asked me to come along with them. I was kind of enchanted with their awkward charm and decided it might be fun to follow them.
I could tell that one of the boys took a particular interest in me, at least I supposed. He kept on glancing at me with fondness and amazement. I kind of thought he was sweet, but didn’t really want to flirt with him. His unwashed, greasy black hair and faded T-shirt were kind of a turn-off. I thought that I’d probably adore him if he bathed. He seemed unique from the rest of the boys, or from anyone I knew, but was much to timid to speak to me.
As the boys and I walked down a wide corridor lighted with fluorescent lights I asked them where everyone went. They seemed a bit annoyed by this question because to them “everyone” meant the people they hated. But they decided to lead me there because maybe they could have fun teasing all the stuck- up people at the pool or maybe they could just cause some random mayhem.

The Nightmare
part one

----I----
I found myself sanding in the middle of two large, red-brick mansions. Both looked very similar in both size, and structure. There were people walking to and form both of the buildings. They appeared to be on vacation; some people were carrying towels or drinks and some were just lounging around. Some of the people I knew and recognized. Most of them however, I did not know.
I decided to explore the premises starting with the building on the right. Shortly after entering the building I found an old woman lying on a hospital bed. It was a strange that a bed would be situated in the building because the interior resembled an early 19th century warehouse or an industrial building.
The old woman appeared to be dying. But I became distracted from her by a clamoring at the back door. The panes of glass in the patio door were shaking. Immediately, I became aware of the perchance of a ghost. I could feel the temperature of the room drop. I could see the faint figure of the old woman. When the old woman’s ghost saw me she began to swirl the dead leaves that littered the stone patio floor.
After our meeting the old woman’s ghost re-entered the house and began kicking a tin can down a dark corridor lined with doors.
I followed the old woman’s ghost until it melted into nothing and I was standing with my sister in front of a wide door. I opened the door and found a colossal auditorium with massive fans and shafts on the ceiling. The walls and ceiling were completely white-washed and the floor was painted a light gray. There was nobody in the room, my sister and I decided to look for my mom and grandmother.
As I walked back up the corridor I thought about the Old Woman’s Ghost and how I had not been afraid of her. It was actually exciting to go on a ghost hunt. It was thrilling to do somthing that any normal person would be afraid to do; but I knew that it was more important to help my sister find mom.
When I re-entered the main hall, I was surprised to see the old woman still there. She was alive and sitting up in bed. Her hair was a gray and frazzled and stood out in many directions. She pointed her finger in the air at some non-existent point. There were some nurses at her side trying to get her to lay back down. I thought it was very strange that I had been chasing the ghost of someone who was not dead. I wondered if the old woman was going to die soon, or if she would decide to live for a few more days.
Before I had turned to leave the house the old woman had lied down again and the clamoring at the patio doors had again commenced.

Went to Odd Fellow's Circus. When me and my posse entered the gates of the Gargoyle Park our lives forever changed...
or uhh.. maybe not. There were a good... 50 people there. The black clad spectators were really getting into the music. They were positively bursting with rythm emotion-- they just stood there in a line, 20 feet from the stage smoking cigarettes. We pretty much did the same until Changing Skins were up. I tried listening to the music but I was entranced by the guy with the blue mohawk, and the guy with the dreds. Our little group got right up to the stage, and we moshed. Yep we all moshed the hell out of each other and other people too. After that we all put our little fists in the air, a tribute to our famylies, and all was well with the world. Blue Mohawk jumped off the stage, along with his orange haired cohort, almost bludgeoning me with his guitar. After their set we were lured to the band's booth so they could persuade us into buying their junk. I got my shoe signed by two of the people in the band. Miek and Jessica got their breasts signed. The lead singer rubbed his blue mohawk on my chin, I feel blessed. The next set was of some band with a bald guy. He rubbed mud on his face, but I don't think he was high. I liked the message of that bands music, but didn't really like the way it sounded. I kind of glazed over the rest of the day. It was kind of crappy out and rained all day. There really weren't many more people coming, they all came at night when we couldn't see their ugly faces. Sylveran had astounding sound for a bunch of middle school kids. The lead singer was only 13 and he fucking screamed like every other lead singer. I find it mildly amusing he drank water out of a gas can. Dog Day Sunrise was either before or after Sylveran and the lead singer sounded like Special Ed from Crank Yankers when he talked. Dog Day Sunrise was the only band I had heard of up to then, but they didn't play any song I knew. Slaves on Dope was the last band of the night. I kinda think they were full of themselves but, eh, what band isn't? I like the fact that we got to chat with most of the bands. I woke up this morning pretty sore, stiff neck. But no terribly painful injuries. I think Katie had a concussion cause she had hit her head and was shivering and stuff, I think she sould have been taken to a doctor. I bet Christa has 203482304980584098 bruises, but she is no worse off than the people she gouged with her spikes. I know I'm gonna get a hella lot of e-mail cause I signed up on every list. I got a free CD with two songs, yahoo! lol

Ah haa haa... a bible story that I didn't learn in Sunday School

King James Version, Second Kings 2:23-24
23: And he [Elisha] went up from thence unto Bethel: and as he was going up that way, there came forth little children of the city, and mocked him, and said unto him, Go up, thou bald head; Go up, thou bald head.

24: And he turned back, and looked on them, and cursed them in the name of the LORD. And there came forth two she bears out of the wood and tare forty and two children of them.

Extreme Bible Story

You ever think that some people are really fuck ups? (When I say "some people" I mean me. I dunno but I think maybe I've just been disillusioned. I believed that everyone has some redeemable characteristics. But I'm beginning to think that I'm a fuck up. I can't remember a time when I've done somthing right the first time. Its just so odd to me... that everything I can think of points to one indellble fact that I am a screw up. And for some odd reason it all falls upon me now. I guess I have some responsibilities to fulfill as a senior. I have to start on a path to some shining destiny...lol... but I feel mystified as to where I should start and what I should be doing now. (well actually, I know I should be doing my homework but uhh...) Somehow I don't think I can do it by myself. In fact I'm quite afraid of what the future will bring. I know I shouldn't be because fear only breeds more smelly fear. I know that the future can only be better than the past.
Back to what I was saying about fuck ups. I need to do somthing right. I know probably it won't be on the first try but I have too keep on doing it until I get it right. So I might still be a fuck up to some extent, but a fuck up who has done somthing right, somthing good. Thus, having done somthing right, I will have restored my belief that there is somthing redeemable about everyone. If someone as weak and fruitless as me can do somthing right then anyone can.

I'm sorry, but its more like I'm humiliated. I can never help but feel unworthy to stand in anyone's presence, anyone. I even feel that way around you. I try always to be a better person, but I fail so miserably, I'm just so ignorant, on how to make things better for myself, for you. I don't understand how you feel, I don't. I always try to say the right things. I feel guilty sometimes because I fail so often. I just don't know whats going on.

:B skool is fun and I like to go to skool and see my freinds and tlak to thum and they like to talk to me and I do a lot of homwork that I dont like but I like to sit in studee hall and teese the boys and read books and storys and take vokabulare tests.
--Last few days.. um week in a half I am now considered a Senior or as I like to call it Senor in highschool. I don't feel special. All I can see is how far behind I am from everyone. I'm probably the worlds biggest loser. I bet nobody I know can give me a reason why they are a bigger loser than me! I dare you to try! I DARE YOU! AH HAAHAA
But aside from me being a total social outcast I'm swell. I don't have any problems in school aside from the fact that I can't pay attention in class and keep forgetting my homework.
I hear tell I'm being voted Most Artistic... If I am I'll pee my pants with glee. If I'm voted most Autistic, well, that will be cool too.

You are a banana! Good job, captain obvious.


which rejected character are you?
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(The Bradford Era, Monday September 1st)
Horoscope
by FRANCES DRAKE

YOU BORN TODAY (Sep. 1st)

You are brave, fearless and passionate. You set high standards for yourself. You take your work very seriously, and you take pride in meeting your deadlines. You are highly conscientious. You often approach life in a very physical manner. You are sexy, romantic and practical. Expect a fun-loving social year ahead. Birthdate of: Edgar Rice Buroughs, Gloria Estefan, Barry Gibb

In this little punk revival thing you cling to bands such as... I dunno.. Good Charlotte.. and as I always say "Good Charlotte is just a bunch of pretentious corporate pop drones." Which means that this band and many like it are only on MTV cause they are puppets of large record lables. The lable controlls their image, songs, and manages the money. The corporations make sure that they make freindly, cute pop, tunes...
Wait a second.. I've never listened to most of their songs.. what the hell am I talking about? I'm just so freaking shallow making judgements like that. But I guess it is important to at least question the integrity of the music I listen to.
Anyway, it all makes me uneasy. First of all I have an idea that all the new popular pop-punk acts are softening the image of the punk into somthing teenage girls want to pin up on their walls and cuddle with. Its a wave that major record lables and the fashon industry rides.. once they soften the image they can sell it to white-middle class America the largest of all consumer groups. Second, it all sucks, I see nothing redeeming.. a wasteland... nothing entertaining or worthwhile...
okay maybe I like the pants with the straps all over ... but uhh... that about it.
I really need to stop I could keep rambling about this crap all night.
I really fucking hate the word punk now and would be content never to type it again.

SLC Punk, quite possibly the saddest movie I have ever seen next to Grave of the Fireflies.
I think much about punkness lately. Cause I seen very many aspects of what its considered to be "punk" especially what with smelly ol Blink 182 and Avril whoring up MTV. Mind you however that their music and images were not my first encounters with what is considered to be "punk". Cause one time when I was 9 I saw a man with a mowhawk in a Tops Supermarket--lol. No really, my first and foremost education of "punk" came from people that were barely "punks" at all. Sorry gotta get this outta the way, it was Chumbawamba. (Yeah they're an archaic pop band and they sold out but thats not relevant to the point I'm trying to make.) I used to browse their web-page all the time and had a bunch of CD's with liner notes. I read practically every surface that they had printed words on. I thought it was pretty damn cool that they didn't sound a bit like the shit played on MTV (I'm not talking about Tubthumper). Anyway, what I had learned was that punks were defiant and always had somthing to say, they listened to the Sex Pistols and said fuck a lot. I got the general impression, though it was rather misguided, that all punks had interest in politics and fucking hated the state of things. So they picket and riot, and boycott.
But after a while I learn that there are several different kinds. The poli- punks, anarchists, poor people, posers, and people who just don't give a fuck about anything. But music is a general uniting factor that makes punks what they are; usually it is played very loud and not in the slightest bit clean or tidy.
I used to think I'd like to be a punk, an anarchist, someone nobody liked. I'd like to scream and yell and rebel and voice my opion. But I'm just weak sauce.."The soup is too thin.." Somtimes I think I would be now, but now that its tre chic! I fucking hate it. Everyone thinks they are a punk or a rocker or just like to dress like one. Its hard to pull out the people with true convictions.. ah but isn't that always the way... I'll just wear my combat boots, kilt and spike collar on the inside. Its always my first initiative to do the opposite of what everyone else is doing anyway.
Well anyway... it doesn't bother me that a person likes to dress like whatever, but it does kind of bother me that so many people are doing it at once. In my opinion, punk is dead. In fact I don't think it ever existed in the first place cause nobody can agree what punkreally is. I dunno what punk was back in its heyday but what I find it to be presently is a bunch of pretentous wankers, and fashon whores, TRYING to be cool. They are always so "POSER! POSER!". But look at me I'm practically screaming "POSER, POSER" myself. I'm just rambling I know..

Lately I've been kind of bothered by the fact that this was a dangling thread from my heart. With a sense of closure my conscience is much less burdened.

------Last Sunset----

How I remember being enraputred by the sunsets rosy haze,
what it was to live and cherish those tender springtime days.

I danced in the Sun's last rays of light that he so lovingly shed on me
I witnessed the shroud of night envelop his face, and felt the warmth of his love recede.

For when the sun decended, into his lush, green hillside bed
he took his warm heart with him and left the night so still and dead.

All the lilies I lay on your grave, cannot convice my soul, mind or eyes;
It is certainly not easy thing to mourn the death of someone so alive.
--------Naya

hand holding - you like to be in constant physical
contact with your special someone but you don't
want to take things too quickly.


What Sign of Affection Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

I am not: a cheater
I love: to be happy
I hate: doing dishes
I fear: losing control
I hope: that I might be passionate about somthing someday
I hear: the whirr of the CPU, trance song stuck in my head
I crave: mmmm pie
I regret: having not been there
I cry: when pitying my lost soul
I care: about my friends
I always: forget what I'm talking about in the middle of a sentence
I believe: whatever I want to believe when I want to believe it
I feel: pretty good
I listen: when people talk to me
I hide: nothing, I have no secrets =(
I drive: myself crazy (not a long drive)
I sing: very loudly
I dance: to the rythm in my head
I write: on my celing, lugubrious poetry
I play: Tetris, the kazoo, Bon's Spongebob clock
I miss: talking to people
I search: for scraps of food
I learn: from videogames, reading, from other people but apparently not from experience..
I know: a bunch of useless things, just ask me about anything!
I say: "AH HAA HAA" when cracking very stupid jokes
I succeed: at avoiding success!
I dream: of a clean house, clear conscience, and love
I wonder: how am I going to be able to survive on my own?
I want: lunch..
I have: treasure
I give: what I can when I have somthing to give
I fell: in love? it seems always to me that I take a step up
I fight:"I am Sailor Moon, I will right wrongs and punish evil, and that means YOU!"
I need: a hug

I had this dream where I was pulling wire coat hangars, hair pins and twenty dollar bills out of my nose. It was a pretty strange and random ability but during post-apocalypic times up is down black is white and everything you know is WRONG. So anyway, everyone in the world was pretty much dead except for me and a few other punks. I needed a weapon to protect me cause everyone that was alive was either crazy or was obsessed with fighting over turf; I needed to protect myself. So I asked Bob to If I could borrow one of the machete that he displays in his glass table ( I knew I should have just stolen it). He told me that I would have to give him $19.00 to keep it. (God, it is so like bob to think of money before the safety of his beloved family. What purpose does money have when the world has ended anyway?) I just tossed him a $20 bill that I had pulled out of my nose earlier in the day. I grabbed my duffle bag, my machete and my belt with the grommets and went on my merry way.

Last night I had a dream that I was on an important mission to travel to the deep-south. I was riding a tricycle with a motor and my sister was sitting on the back. We were doing 80 on the interstate when I found I had forgotten where I was going. So I pulled off in some field to find directions. There was this creepy old guy that told us that there was a gas station down some dark and winding road in the forest. I knew he was a creep cause of the way he combed his hair. I knew I spotted the real gas station in the other direction so I hopped back on my tricycle and sped away. In the same field, ( It was a big field)I saw some tourist couple they had a map with boats on it. They told us that we were in Shippingsburgh, not to be confused with Shippingborough. It seemed I had traveled south but had only traveled halfway downstate. I thought that was pretty good for a tricycle and decided to go home. But my tricycle broke down and some stupid people stole the wheels =(

Power was out. There was a tremendous storm which brought sudden heavy dounpours and great gusts of wind.
I hear tell there was a Tornady in these here parts. I reckon their was on account of I dun saw a limb ripped off of Ol' Man Sprouses maple tree.
It seemed as if a great super natural hand was doing mother natures pruning. After the storm passed I surveyed the carnage and found the neighborhood in a state of disarray.
There were trees snapped in half, and broken limbs littering the streets and lawns. There were also telephone poles that bent over the roadway at precarious angle.

This weekend... was very long. Went and visited Rochester Institue of Technology. Nerd Central. I got lost a lot cause I have a horrible sense of direction. I went swimming in the pool got ice cream. Followed a jesus looking guy around. Went and learned about medical illustration. It was a fruitful experience. Kind of lonely though...
Today I went to a flea marked. I got two anime videos, and a ryoko action figure... crazy considering that I usually expect to find antiques and worn out junk at flea markets. Though I guess you could consider a ryoko figure and anime from the 80's useless worn out junk.

Today Christa was talkin on the phone (big surprise) with Miek.
But I didn't know that at first. Cause she called him "Mikey"and I know more than one Mikey.
I'm all like "Mikey who? Mikey what"
Christa is like "Mikey, you know Mikey" "Mikey Mike Mike MIkEY"
Me: "Hello...uhh Mikey, Who WHAT? WHAT MIKEY ARE YOU!?!?!?" "WHAT'S THAT YOU SAY? pILLS!!?"
YES i NEED PiLLS!! YOUR GONNA come back and give me pills?! Come back? I didn't know you were gone?
Oh wait a second.... (recognizes his voice)
That Mikey... I miss him

:: how nintendo are you? ::

I've collected all 100 of the different cards on ff9. I have invested so much time in my frivolous, imaginary empire-- about 106 hours. I feel very alone sometimes, but the game numbs the aching throb, it blinds me of staring into an empty fruitless void. I wonder what I'd be doing if I didn't play games? But then I think they are good for me because I think if I didn't play I'd be vandalizing, having sex and stealing-- or worst of all: Going to Church! I'd rather not think about it because the only conclusion would be that I am wasting my time playing games. But where are my friends? Where am I? What can I do?
What should I be doing? I just don't know. Maybe games are my life.

The Jackal


What sign of the Black Zodiac are you?
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I just got back from a week camping at Hammond lake. Wow, was it exciting. It rained, I forgot my swimsuit, the tent leaked, and the boat broke. Worst of all there were no hot men. Just Mullets.
Don't get me wrong I did have a good time. Cause it was sunny shiny and I kind of got a tan.. I went kayaking, and I sat around and was lazy and I saw a movie with a hot but very strange pirate in it. I got plenty of fresh air. I saw pretty sunsets and listened to good music. Food was abundant and generously prepaired.
There wasn't much activity at the lake though.
I've reached a new level of boredom... now what do the Buhddists call it.. umm..
Enlightenment! Thats it!

Random Naya-ism:

If you make a silly mistake and embarass yourself trying out somthing new, and decide never again to participate in that activity again, you will be remembered by others involved for the mistake that you made. You just have to keep trying sometimes...

You are quina You love food, it's one of the most important forces in your life. When you are hungry, you may seem very scary to others O_O

take this quiz!

Quina is the best FF character next to Sephiroth. Quina really kicks ass! SO THERE!
--are ya happy now?
I so happy

Final Fantasy IX
Final Fantasy IX was a pretty damn good game. Its kinda sad that I played it now that its an antique but I don't think I could have appreciated it as much when I was a little younger.
I liked seeing all the old stuff from the earlier games in FFIX, like black mages, and the summons, and I got a namigway card. Though the Chocobo said "Kweh" instead of "wark" I still liked them.
I especially enjoyed the frienship that kept all of the characters together and the lessons they all learned at the end.
They learned how to live life and enjoy life and hot to make it better for others. All from that monkey-tailed theif!
I'm a sucker for happy endings.

I'm having a great summer. I'm doing absolutely nothing. I play video games all day. I go swimming. I eat. I do computer things.
I like that I don't really have any deep reflections on my days. I like not being surrounded by annoying peolple like I am at school.
It kind of bothers me though, that my days are so empty of substance.

I spent the whole day with Bon and Christa.
Then I was silly enought to say "durr I am like soo unfruitful, I did nothing all day and have nothing to show for it."
Then Bon says: "But Naya you have shown your love and kidness to me all day." and Christa says I'm appreciate too.
I'm glad I'm appreciated.

I hear some people say that I need some self-esteem, that I need to be more confident in myself. I won't deny that, not at all!
But I figure if I have the bravery to divulge my most brilliantly obvious flaws on my blog every day, and not feel a bit sorry, I must have some some self-esteem. I'm saying that I'm confident to tell the whole world that I'm a lonely loser, a social outcast, I need therapy, I need a hug, or I'm lazy and irresponsible, and It doesn't make me think any less of myself. I'm confident enough to be honest with myself. So I must have some self-esteem. What I really think I need is, discipine, to keep me from slagging off all day, and some shame, so I don't feel it good enough to be flaky and undependable all the time. Most of all I need motivation. I need somthing to get my ass moving and my head thinking.

I went to sleep at approximately 5:30 yesterday afternoon and slept until 10:30 this morning. Thats about 18 hours of sleep more or less.
Thats double what a person is supposed to get in a day. It astounds me that I could ever sleep so much. Its good that I didn't miss anything, at least I think I didn't.
I guess I've discovered a new talent, I am very good at sleeping. I'm also getting pretty good at staying up until 4:30 in the morning, but thats all over for the year.
I'm so multitalented, I can sleep and play videogames, and ramble on about the stupidist aspects of my uneventful life. I'm real college material!

I'm sure you all have taken a health class sometime in your life.
You know, the ones where they teach you about sex and reproductive systems.
Anyway, It bugs me when I hear the redundant cliche "Abstinence is the safest sex" or "No sex is the safest sex."
:B What the hell are they trying to tell us. What retard decided to tell us that crap.
If its not sex then its not sex. Argh..

I feel lamenty tonight. I keep thinking about the poor fellas that put up with my crap (were in love with me). It was always those guys who got the bad end of the deal. I have a way of making everyone within 50 feet of me miserable or silent. I notice that when my friends are all together havin fun, laughing, in the other room, I walk in and I suck all the life out of the room. I don't even say anything. When I'm around people I don't usually hang out with, they get a little uneasy. They say "this is like, so weird were all so silent." I'm the only silent one. Why are people so afraid of silence? Am I so strange because I can't prattle on about the most mundane aspects of my day?
Today, in the lunchiline I was saying to Angela that it is totally immature and sad when people have to determine their self worth by what their boyfriends think of them. Yet, I still wish I had someone. Not because I want to determine my self-worth and say "oh like I am soo much better tahn yuo cuz I can get sum an yuo cnat". But to affirm that I actually exist. Sometimes I feel like a figment of everyones twisted imagination, that they repress and ignore. I want someone who will look me in the eyes and not be afraid of my silence, or afraid of what I can say when I say it. I want somone to touch, somone who feels the same way I do. I want someone who would actually try to take my advice for once, just once.
It is so sad, I feel like a ghost. I also feel pitied. I hate pity, pity is for losers..
I must have lost a lot.
It hurts me that the person I adore can only feel enough for me to extend pity. The same pity he extends to people worse off than me.

red roses
wine
silk
shine shine like diamonds
candles flicker
pulse moves quicker
sunset beach
silver moon
in your arms i swoon
poetry
Just love for loves sake
pretty words and no content
another happy routine..

--> Pr0m
Tonight I went to Prom. Everybody was so pretty. People said I "looked good" and "wow you cut your hair short". I danced a little bit with Jizzamie Fry and Erin Farrar and Maggie Gaberseck 'cause I'm cool and have lots of friends. My shoes hurt my feet. I should have put my hair up, but that would make me the same as the preppy people and I don't want that. The decorating was astounding It didn't look like the Elementary school.
Before I went to prom I went to Erway's with Jamie and Hillary, and Elizabeth and her man-slave Larry. I had a shrimp dinner, and Jamie had a grilled-cheese sammich. Everyone stared at us because we were dressed all fancy to eat at Erways. Doesn't everyone wear gowns and high heels to Erway's?
Anyway I went to prom and there were fancy dressed people. Ryan Dunn is and idiot, he said-- and I quote: "hubba hubba" to me.
I danced mostly to disco songs, not that I really thought about it, I just did.
And then you ask did you dance with anyone?".
Yep. I danced with Greg. Man, he sure likes to talk. He asked me how I liked the prom, and I said it was alright. He asked me what my favorite part was-- and me being the dork I am said, "dancing with you" . I throughly enjoyed the experience. Except for the fact that he probably wouldn't have danced with me if Alyissa hadn't told him to. Well, I don't actually know, I just assume... I'm not gonna linger on that.
After Pr0m I came home and Bon was waiting for me. She told me of my every flaw, nobody put coverup on your back, woah your not wearing a bra I can tell, you didn't curl your hair or did you,you have a sparkle on your eyelid and a black thing on your forehead, your face looks oily. Thanks Bon, I looked like a retard the whole time.
I'm currently lounging in my prom dress. I don't feel special and I don't feel stupid. I'm just here.