The ironies of life

Are such.
When you want a conversation, everyone will be busy.
When you need to be alone, people will seek you out.
When you want to keep a low profile,
your private news becomes everyones business.
Then, I decide to double cross.
I keep quiet, when I want to speak out.
The silence works much better than an outburst would.
I smile when I am at my angriest.
Hopefully the argument will end without any permanent damage.
And sometimes, when I realize I am not strong enough
to bend will against instinct,
I stay alone.

Happy Christmas to you!

These days...

I think a lot. When disappointments threaten to turn into despair. When realizations strike me that must be shared, or at the very least, scribbled somewhere, if only to be read later and laughed at.
So, my big thought:
When I make a friend, I invite that person into my life. To see me in all my moodiness and whimsical behavior, to know what makes me tick. I learn in turn. About what brings a frown or a laugh. And what must never ever be said. Perhaps that is the reason why, when a friendship goes astray, I feel like a little part of me is gone as well. That although I will certainly move on, an irreversible change has just occured and a gap in my otherwise neatly chaotic world has been created.

Mediocre at best.

An endless, tedious, hopeless, predictable existence. Running like a hamster, for example. There are moments in life, when you witness someone giving voice to your innermost thoughts. Art does it well enough, and you turn the page, or shift in your seat while clutching the popcorn, drinking in whatever unfolds before your eyes. A book I once read mirrored what I saw today and I was elated. Positively joyous. I know now why I have this time on my hands and what I am supposed to do with it. And myself.

Reading.

While some assume reading is reserved for those who are considered nerdy, let me tell you, you are far off. I realized today, that one of my favorite parts about books (and there are many) is falling in love with a completely imaginary character. Why can't these perfect men ever be real? As silly as it sounds, it's a lot easier to love someone who only exists in your mind than someone who is real and right there but only pays attention to you when it's convenient for them. And yet, while it's easier, it's not better. And for some strange reason, I still want to focus on the one who probably never looks twice at me.

This weeks to-do list.

*Stop being a baby and just bloody do it.

...Yepp, that's it.

It's really not that difficult, yet it's been three weeks and it still needs to be done. 

I hate feelings.

Dear feelings,

You keep making everything ache and hurt and throb. Stop it right now. I don’t think I can handle any more of you. Stop keeping me up at night. Stop making the tears fall. Stop making my voice quiver, you make me look like such an idiot, really. Stop making me play sappy songs. Stop making me feel worthless. Stop stirring up inside of me and then always, in the end, justifying everything he says.

I hate you. Go away.

Please.

Please, don't. Just... don't.

Mind block.

I can't express in words how I'm feeling. I've tried, and all I've come up with are a bunch of useless saved drafts that make no sense. I suppose I could use synonyms. Hopeful, cheerful, even? I'm not sure. I think my brain is stuck at an exceedingly long stop light, not allowing my creative thoughts to flow forward and to blossom on this computer screen. Hmmphh. 

Pensive.

I hate these types of nights. The nights when you are by yourself and your head is just a reel of thoughts that you would rather keep hidden. The thoughts grow and grow, about to break free of their barriers. Sometimes, I want them to break through, just not all at once. But sadly, they come flowing out of my mind, all blurred and jumbled together. Like Dumbledore, and his pensieve. I wish I had a pensieve. Instead, I try to push them back, back to the silent sanctuary. Only until I close my eyes to the darkness of the night where I can attempt to sift through them slowly. The difficult part is the sifting. During this process it is impossible to keep my mind still, because I keep going back to him. Every word, every look, everything. It's never ending. How am I supposed to keep myself from exploding from all my erratic thoughts when I don't have the willpower to focus and separate them? I really do hate these types of nights.

Maybe.

Maybe. Maybe?

My father.

I'm worried about him. This is his second divorce and while this one is definitely for the better... I still feel bad. I have never been so happy about a failed relationship than I am about this one. It sounds cruel, yes, I know. But it's what you don't know. You probably don't know that my step mother tortured me in every single day. It was never physical, but as close as she could get. She made me feel true fear. Fear to visit my father, to visit that house. Fear to say or wear or eat the wrong thing. Fear to enter a room that was forbidden for me, yet a safe spot for her children. So yes, now I am stronger, but she still destroyed a little part of me. I remember sitting  in class in third grade and crying and crying while begging one of my friends to let me stay with them to avoid having to take a step near that house. I never gave her a reason to hate me, but she sure gave me many to hate her. She destroyed any relationship I had with my father and my brother and sisters; she destroyed my self-esteem, and my father's everything. Now he has nothing; no one. And it's not to say that it wasn't his fault. He was the one who stayed with her all those years while watching his children suffer under her hand. But, I still feel sorry for him. It hurts me to hear him say that he'll never be happy again. It hurts me that he doesn't laugh anymore. It hurts me that he's hurting, and yet I can't bring myself to wish that things were any other way.

Why?

Do I act so stupid? I can't even help it anymore. And on top of it, I've got to worry about my bloody eye twitch. Thanks.

Perspective.

How do you define your love for another?
Will it be like a cage holding in a bird?
To never let it take flight and risk potential injuries and predators, thus not learning the truth about the real world?
Or will it be set free to roam about, and eventually knowing where to return home, growing and learning more each day? Suppose a young man crosses his path with an enchanting lady and falls head over heels. His friends ask him to profess his deep love for her. Should this be labelled as love? Can this be defined as love? And the three words, 'I love you'. I believe that there is no need to say it in words. They should be spelt out with actions. And I am not referring to expensive dinners and gifts, or standing in the rain with a bouquet. Since love is a conscious decision made every single day, according to one of my good friends, any moves made that will possibly wreck a relationship would not be salvaged using the un-magical 3 words. That is how far deep I believe these 3 words extend beyond. So when people throw those words around like a casual hello, how can they possibly have any understanding of what they are dealing with? 

Dream.

Dreams confuse me. See, most of the time, if I think hard enough, I can figure out each and every part of the dream and why it was there. My subconcious and I are becoming better friends each day. Except for last night. How in the world my brain could possibly fabricate such a story baffles me. Not to say it wasn't wonderful, because it was, but now it's all I can think about. And I hate that. I hate that because it gets my thoughts messed up. My new goal is to make sure that this particular dream comes true. Part of me says, hey, this is plausible, but maybe my erratic thoughts just haven't caught up with reality yet.

When it rains...

It sure as hell pours. 

When lost inside a book...

You don't have to deal with your own problems, only those of the character inside the book. Maybe that's why we read. To be completely absorbed in something that we have no control over, and yet there are not consequences.

Chinese and Late Night TV

Ordering chinese takeout on a Friday night while watching House on TV, waiting to get home to listen to ridiculous music, drinking crisp orange juice in the morning and never finishing it like I always do, eating sushi with chopsticks, watching sappy love movies and having sweet dreams after them, sitting outside in the dark just to take in the overwhelming scent, dancing like a complete idiot when I'm home alone or driving, daydreaming of living at Hogwarts and sitting with Hedwig on the Astronomy Tower, obsessing over New York and the city lights, curling up in my bed with a fuzzy blanket and my favorite book, reading by only the soft light of my bedside lamp.

Things that make me feel like me.
Little puzzle parts that help to make me who I am.

Double Vision.

Don't we just love double standards? In order to be 'right' in book sense, we judge and condemn those whom we come across that are in the 'wrong'. The spoilt, the wilful, the traitor. How is it some people don't see themselves committing the exact same crime, while criticising another of similar actions. If someone says you're wrong, you'd prove and defend yourself to the last illogical statement before dismissing the discourse as something not worth your time. How then would the population mature? With all the hype and hidden propaganda, it all seems like a severe misfit. And I'm not preaching to say that I've never been at fault, because I definitely have. Who hasn't? It's just a worrying thought.

The ticket.

I now possess it. It's in my hand, and it's all becoming more real. Eight days from now, the excitement will ensue. Tears will flow, chills will arise, and a mix of fear and happiness will cloud our minds. It's going to be a long eight days... but I hold the ticket as my heart already pounds from anticipation.


I like being a geek. 

"The world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters. We've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are."
-Sirius Black 

Advertisement Fail.

I have a sudden craving for orange juice. I think it's because I just glanced up at the TV in front of me and saw a woman chugging from a giant jug of orange juice. Ironically, the commercial was instructing me not to bother with such antiquated ways of boosting one's immune system.


Instead, I'm supposed to crave Airborne.


A refreshing glass of Airborne....


Nope. It's not working. I still want orange juice.

Magic.

Birds of the same feather...

Yes they flock together. The good and the bad, and it seems there's an invisible hand guiding the division - and apparently, the cheapos.

I just thought I'd let you all know.

33. bloody. days.


I am convinced that this day will be utterly amazing. I think I might pass out.

Reality.

I crossed a thousand miles in a day and yet I can’t seem to cross few meters in a year. The eternal distance between us. Am I dreaming? Or stuck in reality.You burst with joy as people get closer to you.

Some known.

Some unknown.

While I longingly wait for my turn to walk the distance.
I brave the stormy rain, the burning sun, all filthy tests of nature.

But the wait seems endless.

Then someone walks through me and I feel pain. I'm not sure if it is physical but I want to move away. But I can't plead with the passerby to take me along.

No one cares for the fallen soul. Someone walks by. I am shaken to wake up. To reality. 

I would.

I would willingly carve my heart out and see it in the shape of a heart.
I would willingly rip my soul out and see it fade away.
I would stick pins in my flesh and savor the pain.
I would take a stroll in the park and feel the warmth from the sun.
I would hold an umbrella under the storm and feel nature's sorrow.

I will hold your hand and share this world with you.

How can you not love stop animation?

A state of disillusionment.

The world around us is more construct than real. I'm not saying the real world doesn't exist. But what we see is our perception of the real which is a construct. Once the construct is made, we get comfortable in it and let our guards off. We start to trust people, make expectations of them, love things, hate people... all based on the construct.

But the fact is that the construct is different from the reality. The real is far more complicated than our brains could fully comprehend. The problem arises when the real pops up to contradict our construct - we are simply disillusioned. Everything around us seems false and a gloomy period ensues.

Right now, I'm in such a state. People who I thought were great are actually not that great after all. Friends doesn't seem to be friendly. The chain reaction begins and even the mundane things seem to be specially designed to hurt us.

But optimism prevails and we believe that it will get over. We make new constructs to live on.

Prisoner of the moment.

Being a “prisoner of the moment” means that I lead with my wants, and not my rationalities. I go based off instinct, not thinking too far into the future. I dove in completely and tried to suppress all other thought, the scream telling me to protect myself and back out. I was hurt in the end, but life is too short to care. I can only hope I find this passion again, and that it doesn’t burn out quite so quickly.

I like..

o Black framed specs. 
o Dimpled smiles.
o New movie promos.
o When a teacher skips over you accidentally. 
o When an elder woman touches my head to bless me.
o Talking to strangers who strike interesting conversations.
o Non verbal communications. (spells?)
o Taking photographs.
o Listening to music all day.
o Watching movies in large theaters.
o Fall, fall, fall. 
o Walking on a lonely road surrounded by trees after it rains.
o Slow breeze.
o Reading.
o Random comments on this blog.
o When someone shows genuine respect to the ones worthy of it.
o Children or grown up people who are still stuck in their childhood.
o Honesty.
o Open spaces.
o Talking to close friends in the dark. 
o Expressing.
o Taking school spirit to a whole new level. 
o Someone I shouldn't...

Good Morning!

Let's just try to make today go a little bit smoother than the last, okay?

I need a break.

A break from my life. 

A break from my family. 

A break from psychotic parents. 

A break from school. 

A break from stupid boys. 

A break from tears. 

A break from work. 

A break from fighting. 

A break from this craziness.

I need a break in my life. But I'm never going to get one. 

Stress.

It's overwhelming right now. And every time it seems to lessen, it gets worse. Like about five minutes ago actually, I experienced that exactly. I hate people. Well, most.


Stress. 


It's creeping gradually, unseen, untouched, and hidden.
It's like steam coming out of my ears.
Burning, painful, and sore.
It looks like a two horned devil, getting on my nerves.
It feels like a headache, that seems to go on for eternity.
I am stressed out. The panic is rising to my head.
My heartbeat's racing. And I'm breathing ridiculously fast.
It's a tension headache, and an aching back.
My fingers are curled; there's stiffness in my neck.
Am I failing? How long will these feelings last?
I may be having a nervous breakdown.
It sucks to feel this way, the world is spinning too fast.
I can't catch up.

Geek.

Seriously, I freaking love books. So bloody much.

Sometimes.

Sometimes you bump into people you don't want to know.
Sometimes you bump into people you know.
Sometimes you bump into your ex.
Sometimes you get emotional.
Sometimes you hesitate.
Sometimes.


I think I am getting a clearer sense of enlightenment.
Of people, the human race, society, family, and friends.
I feel that at times I may be a little too self-absorbed, and thus, neglecting the important people all around me. Well, maybe self-absorbed isn't the right word, but I've yet to come up with something better. And at times I feel that the 'me' interacting socially may not actually be myself. It's a weird feeling. Almost like drunk driving; (not that I would know first hand, mind you) when you know where you are going but not sure how fast or how erratic the driving is.

Marry me?

Rainy Days.

It's a rainy day today. I love rainy days. I love how the world seems to be washed clean by the angry droplets from the sky. The smell is intoxicating. It's my favorite type of day. Not many others share my enthusiasm. 

Goodness.

I haven't written in a while. At least, it's been a while for me. Miss "I have nothing else to do so I'm going to sit at my computer everyday and think of witty blog posts." This is because, sadly, my laptop has hit its last breathe. I honestly didn't try to drop it. I hope this doesn't lead you to think that I will become an abusive parent one day, I just tripped, that's all. My dad tried to revive it, but sadly, he's no Jesus. I'm just going to use my dad's, I suppose. At least it lights up with all different pretty colors.

My Lord..

This is going to be a hell of a lot more difficult than I thought it would be.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I'm not perfect. I'm not the perfect daughter. But I sure as hell not this worthless piece of shit that I'm told I am every day. Every single day. And they wonder why I'm so depressed, and sullen, and why I never want to be in the house. For being intelligent, they are rather stupid. I try my hardest to make them happy. But, it's never enough, and they claim I don't try at all.
As if today wasn't hard enough for other reasons, I had to come home to this. Maybe I am worthless.

Another Dream.

So, I had this dream last night. And it's still driving me crazy. It was rather short.


*Did you know?
That technically, dreams are no longer than 20 seconds long? It just seems longer in your head. But anywho...


This dream. It started out almost like a nightmare. It was rather terrifying, actually. But then, when things were at their worst, the mood of the dream changed drastically. It involved a slight hole in a blue shirt, on a broad shoulder. A light touch, a comforting smile, and a distraction to keep my mind off of the terror. He couldn't believe that I was so afraid, but he just didn't understand. They were coming for us. Or maybe he did, and it was all part of his clever plan to calm me down. And it worked. That short, sweet distance, hand in hand, made all the difference. Until my bloody alarm went off. If only I had a few more minutes.


When I woke up, I felt weird. But, it was a really good type of weird. I don't know how to explain it other than... euphoric. All day long, I've been replaying that dream. Over and over and over. I don't want to let it go. So, I figured I'd blog about it. A way to document it so that I won't forget. I really don't want to forget.

How many people do you know?

That spend the day with their best friend? Quite a lot.
How many take a walk with their best friend, make smoothies, and eat broccoli bites? All of them, right? Or maybe they would be, if they weren't all completely baked or shwasted 90% of the time.


I wonder if outsiders think we're weird. I hope so.

I love...

Love, love, love, love, love eating Chinese takeout right out of the container... when I'm home alone. So my mother doesn't yell at me for picking the peas out of my fried rice.

Procreation Run Amok.

The Duggars. What's to say? Let's start off with some info, in case you've never heard of them. They are a family. The Dad's name is Jim-Bob (are you surprised, really?) and all the kids' names begin with "J". All nineteen of their children. Yepp, all ninteen. 
Joshua, Jana, John-David, Jill, Jessa, Jinger (stretching it there a bit), Joseph, Josiah, Joy-Anna, Jeremiah, Jedidiah, Jason, James, Justin, Jackson, Johannah, Jennifer, Jordyn-Grace, etc. And both parents say they'd 'love to have more'. 

Now. Before all of you people out there get all jacked up and start composing your "every child is a gift" comments let me say: Settle down.

This is not a judgement on Michelle and Jim-Bob.

So if birth control is just not an option, (do you think they've ever heard of it?) I just think...Michelle maybe needs a little help - girl-to-girl - on saying... No. 

And so I have composed a list of excuses for her to use, when the situation arises (that's you, Jim-Bob).

1. I have a headache.

2. I have to wash my hair.

3. I have to style my hair into a poufy mullet.

4. I have swine flu.

5. I'm gay.

6. One of our 19 children might hear us.

7. There are no more names that start with 'J' left.

8. My lady-ness is stretched out to the size of a Hyundai.

Just saying.

AND
I have some "J' words for you, Jim-Bob: 
Jam your Jaunty Jackrabbit Junk into a condom. Jesus.
(Sorry, Jesus)

Jaw Lines.

Is it weird that I love them? Okay. Maybe I don't obsess, but I just really really like them. Like Robert Pattinson here. His is nice. It's one of the first things I look for when I meet someone. How strange am I?

Your Subconscious.

Ever since I saw the movie Inception, I have been completely frazzled by the whole idea of dreaming and the subconscious mind. In the daylight world, we go to school or work, we eat, do the shopping, build relationships with other people, etc. Essentially, we do the work of creating and maintaining our lives. But at night, in sleep, we enter a world that may resemble the waking world of mundane reality, or it may be a world that is medieval or futuristic or something else entirely; time becomes completely distorted; and we meet a host of characters including faces that are familiar, faces that are not, and faces that look like they have risen from the pages of books on mythological creatures. And all of this happens because of your subconscious. It stores all your previous life experiences, your belief system, your memories, you skills, all situations you've been through, and all images you've ever seen, even if you don't remember seeing them. It boggles my mind, and I just bought a book revolving completely around the subconscious mind. Needless to say, I'm super excited to read it. 

Romeo and Juliet.

It get's me every time. No matter how many times I watch/read it. And yet, I love it. We all know the story. 
An idle passion between a boy and a girl, who have scarcely seen and can have but little sympathy or rational esteem for one another, who have had no experience of the good or bad in life, and whose raptures or despair must be therefore equally groundless and fantastical. From an overall perspective, it is somewhat silly. I am probably one of the very few people my age who truly love Shakespeare and all his works, including Romeo and Juliet. I don't know what exactly it is, but the emotion that I feel from it is so powerful, and I just can't get enough. Maybe I'm crazy? Oh well. 

Hmm. :)

Discovery.

What if there was nothing to discover? 
No story, no thousand words, no answer to a non-riddle? 
What if it was really just a game of forms and colors?
Would it be a sin?
Does a person really need a past?
Is it really so bad for something to be "just" a pretty picture?
We know of the danger of beauty, we know the seductive spectacle means flirting with submission, yet is it really so immoral?

The little things.

It's kind of crazy how the tiniest little thing, no matter how insignificant to everyone else in the world, can make your entire day. Especially when it's completely unexpected. It may be slightly pathetic also, but who really cares?

I feel like...

I feel like dancing. I feel like listening to crazy music. And to move however I feel. It's probably a bit exaggerated. P" title="">robably untenable. But to be so free. That does not confuse me. T\hat delight in every individual movement. Dancing with my eyes closed. And I imagine that everything is as I want. I dedicate it all to the music. It's not exactly mature, but I want to do it.

Find eternity in every moment.

Every sunset. Every sunrise. Every cup of tea. Every joke. Every smile. Every "nice to meet you". Every "I miss you". Every bloomed tree. Every flower. Every meaningful conversation. Every minute spent with a friend. Every baby's cry. Every golden moon. Every tattered page of an overused book. Every rainfall. Each and every moment you're alive. 

I'm trying. 

An Idler.

Last night as I lay in bed thinking, (hmm, seems like I do that a lot, no?) I thought of the most wonderful topic to write about. I structured beautiful sentences and lovely punch lines. The problem is, I can’t remember any of it. I’m totally blank. And I praise the fact that the problem itself is a topic worthy of writing about, the wonderful sentences excluded.

I have always thought of myself as something of a daydreamer. But daydreaming seems to be the luxury of an idler. Daydreaming is very important to me since it’s through daydreaming that I raise questions about society, form my opinions and my ideals. It’s through daydreaming that I blog.

Now, I can’t find the time, not during the day at least. After the lights are out, however, I have all the time I need to ponder and turn and spin thoughts. However, the result is dubious. The most immediate consequence is that I lack sleep; secondly I can’t record what I have thought.

I can’t record what I have thought because I can’t turn the light on, pick up a notepad, or start typing, without fear of awakening my household. Furthermore, I always seem to push my luck. I greedily try to hang on to a seed of thought to see what might become of it. The seed is all I need though; I can water and fertilize it perfectly well during the following day. But no luck, most often I fall a sleep and wake up… blank.

I’m an idler no more…

"Bookaholism"

Like the resident gnome here, let's call him...Mitchell, I like to read. Too much probably. Just like Mitch. Every time I look at him, he always has his head buried in a book. Crazy, I know. And to make things worse, I also like to read online as well. But worst of all, I also adore bookstores, in an unhealthy way. They're a major danger zone for me. It's rare that I don't leave a bookstore without some kind of book under my arm. Bookaholism, I think it's called. I'm a sufferer but I don't want to be helped because see, I haven't hit rock bottom yet. As a consequence, my 'to read' pile continues to grow. I might have to quit school and my social life just to catch up on reading. Oh well. It's a risk I'm willing to take. 

It's inevitable.

Change, that is. Have you ever reached a point in your life when you just come to the conclusion that you are simply not good at something anymore? For whatever reason; the passion is gone; you are completely bored; or maybe you just don't care.

Didn't Johnny Cochran say, "If it don't fit, you must acquit"?

That's what I've been doing. Trying to jam my hand into a size small glove. It cost me a lot of personal things; stress and self-doubt being the worst.

I need to start something new, something that I think at long last is a glove that fits. 

City lights.

This makes me really excited to move to the city. 

I've decided.

Let's not say names yet. Let's forget appearances. Let's ignore age, or social status. Let's just fall in love first. I don't know you, but I know you're out there, and that's all that matters. I don't know what music you listen to, or if you like Bon Jovi. I don't know what clothes you wear. I don't know the color of your eyes, or your hair...





...but God, when we will bump into eachother, it will be the most beautiful accident that ever took place in the universe till now, better than the big bang, more beautiful than the milky way. And it will happen, not because it is better than nothing, but because it is better than anything.

Why?!

In the hell don't we have these around here?! Best thing I've ever seen.

Today.

It's a damn slow day.

I didn't even nap last night. My eyes kept blinking. Staring at the empty ceiling thinking of all the little details in every single corner of my life. Some were curvy, but most of them had sharp edges. 

Three hours later, the clock reading 5 'clock, I covered my eyes with a red pillow so that I'll have the beauty sleep that I need and desire so badly.

Thought.

I've done a lot of thinking lately. The thinking that only occurs when you're pressed between the bedsheets and the clock is staring back at you in bright blue 3 am's and your mind is playing a constant loop of memories you'd rather forget, or not forget.
It's a mix of youthful idealism and hope and a desperate desire to believe in someone against all odds. It's the lure of breathing in a familiar smell while tucked close to someone you silently care about, even though your better judgement says otherwise.
I know that life is not a romantic comedy, but I guess I've still kind of fallen into the idea that maybe sometimes things are meant to be. 
I might still fall silent when I stumble across conversations or pictures. I might stay up until the early morning hours to avoid thinking myself to death while trying to fall asleep. And, yeah, I might still ache to hear the one thing that I know I will probably never hear. 
So, maybe I'll continue to waste my time, and maybe not. However, settling for familiarity is simply bullshit. 

Happy Birthday.

Happy Birthday! To my dear and best friend, Catherine Dulan. Look what I drew for you!

I was too lazy to actually scan it in. So this is the best you're going to get... But I like it!

New sneakers?

Seriously, this is just so exciting.

Turns out, I DON'T have to work out 7 days a week, have a personal trainer, and deny myself all sugar and carbs.

I just have to wear different SNEAKERS. Wow, life just gets easier and easier. (Roll my eyes)





Okay, then who wants brownies? 

Invisible.

Hope.

Hope. It keeps us alive and going. It's the reason why we do anything.

Hoping that we pass our exams with flying colors. Hoping that the people like our new hairstyle. Hoping to graduate from university with a degree. Hoping for our dream job. Hoping for that luxury car we've always wanted. Hoping for that flashy apartment pad in the middle of the city. Hoping to get the guy or girl of our dreams. Hoping to escape from our miserable existence and go on to greater and better heights. Hoping for a better life. Or are we just hoping for the wrong things? Putting hope in the wrong things? Who knows.

Whatever it is, it's hope that drives us on with our lives. It gives us a sense of purpose, hoping that what we do will lead to better things, giving us something to look forward to. Without hope, we might as well be dead.

But sometimes, just sometimes, hope can mess up your life. Too much hope and you never know when to quit. It's good to have a 'never quit' attitude, but in some situations in life, quitting is the best thing you can do. Cutting your losses when you're fighting a battle you know you cannot win. Carry on fighting the battle, and you might just end up losing not only the battle, but the whole damn war. The hard part is figuring out how. 

Ridiculous thoughts.

They say a picture paints a thousand words. A picture also paints a thousand lies. And that's only just a picture. What about a video?

I guess that's why there's this little thing we call 'acting'. Can we call it acting? Or is it the real you? If you're acting, take a bow. Take a damn big bow. If it's you, an appropriate question for the situation would be what lies beneath? We never know.

Maybe it's a bit of both. As Shakespeare once said;
All the world's a stage, and all the men and women are merely players.

We are all actors and actresses in this one big play called 'Life'.

You're charming and you charm all of us snake charmers into charming the cobra. Cobra Commander would've been proud.

Charming. Prince Charming.

You weave your magic. So cheerful. So cute. So enthusiastic. So intelligent.

Perfect ingredients for the perfect tragedy.

We fall under your spell. So delightful. So alluring. So adorable. So enchanting. So...charming.

Last Night.

It was all one big blur. A hazy vortex of blurry images and cloudy moments, as if one was looking through a sandstorm. A few minutes or a few hours, who knows? It's hard to tell the time in the dream world.

What happened was lost to the drifting sands of dream as consciousness reigned once again, sweeping the lingering images into some deep dark corner in my head. I could remember nothing but flashes, but that was enough. I think I smiled when I greeted the morning light.

Why did the turtle cross the road?

Hell if I know.

All I know is, the one thing I don't have time for in the morning scramble to drive my kids (the ones I babysit) to daycare is animal rescue.

Especially since I'm still in my PJs - T shirt and shorts - with mens' basketball sneakers thrown on at the last minute.

But as we turn out of the neighborhood onto a busy street, here's this freakin giant ancient turtle inching its way across the road.  So I pull my Durango over, jump out- in my pajamas - and run over to it and try to pick it up by its shell like I'm Steve Irwin.

This is pretty much when it turned into "Gamera" from the old Godzilla movies.

Then it whips its head around and tries to bite my arms off. Well. Almost. It whipped its head around and snapped. Anyway I dropped his Japanese subtitled ass fast.

Me yelling to the kids in car: "It's a Snapping turtle!"

Kids: "Save it, Nina!" Minus one of the boys- "Smash his face in, I want to see his insides!" Oh how I love children.

(now the cars are backed up waiting on the impromptu woman vs. Gamera battle that is about to ensue.) 


So I grab a big stick. Beacuse I'm pretty sure that would've been Steve Irwin's move.

And I try to Super-poke him off to the side.

Gamera: "Your stick is no match for my Jaws of Death!"
Me: "I'm just tryin to HELP you, you retard!" (poke)
Gamera: "Let the battle begin. My Kung Fu is strong." (snap)
Me: "Idiot! Can you say 'roadkill'?!"
Gamera: "Can YOU say: 'ugly pajamas'?"
Me: "Move you freakshow!" (poke)
Gamera: "I'M the Freakshow?  Did you look in the mirror before you left the house?" (snap)
Me: "I wasn't planning on Roadkill Intervention for an ugly-ass turtle.." (poke)
Gamera: "That was unnecessary."
Me: "Agreed. I apologize."
Gamera: "Let us end our battle with honor."
Me:" Okay then."
Gamera: "I shall continue my journey across the street."
Me: "Whatever."


The End. I was late.

Excitement.

My advice.. never get excited about anything. You'll just end up disappointed.

Clary and Jace.

Clary and Jace. Two of my favorite book characters. It scanned in a little funny, but other than that...


"I was thinking about the first time I ever saw you," he said, "and how after that I couldn't forget you. I wanted to, but I couldn't stop myself. I forced Hodge to let me be the one who came to find you and bring you back to the Institue. And even back then, in that stupid coffee shop, when I saw you sitting on that couch with Simon, even then that felt wrong to me-- I should have been the one sitting with you. The one who made you laugh like that. I couldn't get rid of that feeling. That it should have been me. And the more I knew you, the more I felt it--it had never been like that for me before. I'd always wanted a girl and then gotten to know her and not wanted her anymore, but with you the feeling just got stronger and stronger until that night when you showed up at Renwick's and I knew." 
-City of Glass.

Light sprinkles.

Anyone notice how bipolar the weather has been today? I've never seen it change its minds so many times in one day. It's kind of exciting, yet annoying, I suppose.
I love the sweet and somehow sticky smell of rain. I love how it causes the lilac bush outside my window to sends wisps of fresh fragrance into my room. I love how it's humid, but the light sprinkles keep you cool as you walk down the street. And I love how I can look outside and not be blinded by the sun. Weird, I know, but I just love rain. I want another powerful, raging, storm. Poseidon?


On a side note... I want these... Apothecary jars.

I want a whole collection of different sizes, shapes, and styles. However, I have nowhere to put them. Yet.
But one day I will have a shelf-full. And they will be full of candy, beads, buttons, potpourri, shells, whatever. I will love it.

Fire.

I was lit on fire the other night, and the flames fanned higher over the last few days. Every time I access my email account now, my laptop emits small wisps of black smoke.


My desire - not so hard to understand, just to run with the thought, to be carried off for the first time ever with what could be, what might be. The what-if turned into a why-not-now and a yes-this-could-happen. Logistics were worked through in my mind, even, making the fantasy all that more real.


Life is so dull, you see. It didn’t used to be. Life was totally doable, perfectly fine, no piece of cake but no torture session either. Relaxation when it could be had, strife handled when it arose, laughter as often as possible. I’m sure that given an afternoon, a day, a week even, I’ll settle back down, but oh the sadness that comes when these fantastic ideas die. Apparently in the real world things like that just don’t happen, you see.


The comment was that I was pessimistic, and no, truly I’m not. I’m extraordinarily hopeful. Heartbreakingly hopeful at times. I get impatient with the dreamy “ooh, imagine if this happened!” and think, “my God! This is my life, if I want this to happen I ought to be able to bring it to me.” Granted, when it involves another human being, living their own life, that needs to be taken into account. But when everyone claims to want the same thing it strikes me as complete stupidity to stand around and do nothing about it. Or worse, to be so inflexible as to make it an impossibility.


The grief, over a lost hope. Oi, it’s painful. I shouldn’t have chased after it to begin with.

R. A. Salvatore

"We are all dying, every moment that passes of every day. That is the inescapable truth of this existence. It is a truth that can paralyze us with fear, or one that can energize us with impatience, with the desire to explore and experience, with the hope- nay, the iron-will!- to find a memory in every action. To be alive, under sunshine, or starlight, in weather fair or stormy. To dance with every step, be they through gardens of flowers or through deep snows."

Yucky Sundays

It's Sunday morning. I don't particularly like Sunday. Regardless of the fact that it's summer, and yes, there is no school on the dreaded Monday morning, but it still leaves that yucky aftertaste, ya know? Saturday night was fun, to an extent. Just a few little slips that left me... incredulous, of certain people.

That's always the case.

So I sit here, on this Sunday. "Grounded" might I add. Because I failed to sweep the kitchen floor after scrubbing the rest of the house top to bottom. Yeah, there's real appreciation there. Screw you.


It's nice out, but it bums me out because I have no summer clothes to wear. At least until the ones I ordered come in, so until then... well, I'll figure something out. Hopefully.

I'm also hungry, but I don't dare get up. I'm logged on, and I can't peel my eyes away from that name. The name that haunts me almost everyday. The name that gets my heart racing and my blood boiling. For no reason at all. The name that pisses me off and stresses me out. And yet... 

I will sit here, and stare at that name. 

Deathly Hallows

Gahh! Don't these just make you want to squee like an annoying little fan girl? Swoon.

Show Time

The lights are dimming, the curtains are opening, the audience is shhh-ing, then BAM. You're center stage and there's no going back now. You better not mess up, or trip, or stumble. You better kick it. Or else. This is what runs through everyone's head. Especially at my recital, which we performed last night. There are two more shows to go, and I am overly surprised at how amazing the whole shabang turned out. It was utterly fabulous and I am shaking with nerves and a sense of jittery excitement for tonight.

Finals.

Ohh finals week. You see, we have a love-hate relationship. It's quite an exhilarating time, however, seeing as how quickly summer is approaching. The only problem is the actual tests, most of them at least, and studying. Too high of a percent of our grades are counted with our finals, and quite frankly, I find it ridiculous. But hey, that's just me and maybe I just like to complain. School will be done in two more days and summer freedoms will skyrocket. I will admit, unwillingly might I add, that I am a bit sad to see this school year end. I'm afraid I may not see certain friends as often as well as other people, and this year just went by too fast. And you know what, I bet next year will be even faster.

It's not fair.

Sometimes, we really take for granted what we have, who we have in our lives, and even things that we say. In one second, the meaning of all those things can be changed, and I don't think many of us realize this. Not until it happens, at least. All I'm really saying is... pay attention to how you treat people, especially those you love, because you never know if you'll wake up one day and they'll be gone. You always think... "heyy, it's not going to happen to me..." but then it does, or to someone close to you.

It's only Wednesday.

Unfortunately, for all of us, it is only Wednesday. And I, for one, hate Wednesdays because they are the longest. They are smack dab in the middle of the week. But you see, Monday and Tuesday are just known to be miserable, because thats just the law of the land. Thursday and Friday, on the other hand, are a little better as the exhilerating weekend slowly approaches. And then there's Wednesday, all by itself, stuck in the middle. Like the pathetic middle child. So what is there to say about it? I suppose it would be like asking, so is your Wednesday half empty, or half full?

Mouthfuls Of Blood.

“When you love somebody and bite your tongue all you get is a mouthful of blood.”

Could the Fruit Bats have written these words for me?

In the gears and inner workings of my personality, I am a people pleaser. It gives me great satisfaction to delight and please people I care about. Most of the time, this is a virtuous quality. The exceptions can be brutal though. Sometimes, in front of people I love, I bite my tongue in fear that what I have inside may upset or disappoint my beloved. But you know, it usually just hurts. 

Anybody else hate heat?

Seriously. I'm for the whole, no more snow, decent weather thing, but this is too much. It's exactly why I do not like the sun. It's sticky and steamy and uncomfortable and quite frankly, I'm hating it. Summer is great... at night. When it's warm, but still cool. Right? Every time I have stepped outside today, it's as if all the oxygen has been sucked out of me, and I can no longer breathe. Everyone's greatest fear. One second you can breathe, and the next you can't, and you're dead. That's "heat" in a nut shell if you ask me.

Just makes you cringe, right? This is what I picture when I walk outside.