Friday, July 31, 2009

The two personality traits that top my hate list.

[Helena--My Chemical Romance]
Cowardly, traitorous. I don't see why so many people are these things. I expect you to be loyal to me when I do so much for you; I expect you not to back down when I challenge you. Do I have high expectations? Oh, it'd also be nice if you weren't selfish either.
I hate people.

Thursday, July 30, 2009


It's the quiet sob
masking the inner scream,
the burn right before the bomb
that blows up everything.
The sympathetic friend
who you don't know is on your side;
the one you can't bear to lose
but you're losing all the time.
The tears clawing through your eyes
after the confession is told;
the heart, wrenched open, speaks,
but not as loud as it should.
The secret that reveals
everything you hid,
but there's nobody to hear
anything you said.
The tremors, the shivers,
that tell you that you're weak,
when really you have nothing left;
it's companionship you seek.
The sneering, smirking enemy
who feeds off all your pain,
and though you won't admit it,
puts your life to shame.

I think I'm drowning, asphyxiated. I've gotta break this spell that you've created. You're something beautiful, a contradiction.

Damn, it won't let me fit the entire verse. Oh well, the next sentence is: I wanna play the game, I want the friction. It's quite possibly one of the greatest verses in songwriting history.
[the sweet, sweet buzz of the computer]
So. Yesterday, around this time, the computer mysteriously shuts off. Unnerved by the sudden silence, I go into the living room, and find that all the power in the house is out. I, of course, have no idea what's going on (I still don't...some electrical problem that, surprisingly, I didn't really care about). By the great inconvenience gods that smile on me often, the PSE&G guy couldn't come out till today. I just spent nearly an entire day without electricity.
You'd think that, by now, I'd realize just how much we have, how far technology has come, how thankful I should be for lights without batteries or flame, but, to be honest, I'm not. I'm just glad to finally be on the computer again.
That's a pretty good explanation for why I didn't blog yesterday, and much more interesting that just saying nothing happened.
Alas! Something indeed did happen, though something only I would find of worth. I saw Michi at Target while shopping for candle holders. For those of you who don't know (pretty much everyone), Michi is the queen of pops and also inherently evil. She made my life a living hell in fifth grade (well, really everyone did, but I resent her the most for it). She's smug, superiour, and a total bitch (hmm, sound like someone we know?). The funny, most gratifying thing is: she hasn't changed at all since fifth grade! She's still so short and looks exactly the same, if not worse! Ahaha! Triuuuuuuuuumph!
*cough* In other news, I memorized another sonnet, but since no one seems to like Shakespeare, I won't recite.
Well, well, well. Has NOBODY thought to comment in FOUR days? I actually had an acceptable entry last time, but noooooooo, you all just...just...didn't comment! Oh, you infuriating batch of meanies.
Karma is a bitch. I'd explain why I say that, but you'd probably think I was crazy.
What is it about hearing something you're not supposed to that makes YOU feel weak and exposed? Why are whispered words so much scarier than things said in the open?
Here's a lovely little taste of what I was doing at 1 in the morning last night: after *silently* saying one of my rare prayers to God, and crying for an undefinable reason, I had the urge to sit in the pitch blackness of the stair well and call one of my friends and just sob for an hour. I wanted so badly to talk to someone, for someone to understand.
I really hate when people try to use the "other people have worse problems" thing on me. 1) You don't know the full story. You can't make a judgement based on just what you hear; you have to feel everything for yourself before you can say someone's problems aren't that bad. 2) How I view problems may be different from how you view problems. Maybe I'm weak for it, but what seems like the end of the world to me might not to you. 3) I'm aware other people have problems too, I'm not that self-centered. But am I really gonna complain about THEIR problems?
What annoys me even more are the people who try to help you with your problems when they 1) (I'm liking numbers today) aren't helping at all or 2) don't realize that you don't want their advice, you just want someone to listen. For example, one time I was talking to two friends. I suppose I'll just go out and say it: I was talking to Nat and Kim. This was when Kim, to avoid my wrath, declined telling me who told Basil I liked him (it was her, though indirectly; I didn't blame it on her and I still don't). Naturally, being the short-tempered, emotional person I am (was that sarcasm or not? You'll never know...), I was livid. I was arguing with Kim and she was, in her own way, trying to help me, but it wasn't helping at all; it was just making me more furious. I told Nat everything, of course, and she commented slightly, then changed the subject. Neither were particularly useful at that point (sorry, Nat, but I like venting and, to be honest, getting myself angrier. Weird, huh?), but then, after Nat changed the subject, she actually started to make me laugh. You can't be mad when you're laughing, trust me, I've tried. It wasn't long before the flame died down, and I stopped screaming at Kim. So you see, while one friend just added fuel to the fire, another actually calmed me down.
I'm not sure what that entire long, long paragraph acclompished, but here's a lesson to my friends: if I'm really mad about something, let me rant, but change the subject. See! This was an educational post!

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

I am immensely talented.

I freaking love My Chemical Romance.
Just so you know, that's completely unrelated to anything I'm going to blog about. Actually, I'm not sure what I'm going to blog about, since I'm only blogging to beat my past record of a month and a couple days. I'll have to check how long that is...
So. Onto the title. My parents, in thier infinite fairness, have decreed that I can't join drama till I either publish something in the school newspaper or join a sport. Being the usual mad genius I am (wow, I'm really letting go of the humbleness on this entry, aren't I?), have decided to throw this challenge back in thier faces by writing an article on the glories of teenage angst (okay, so I'm not actually a teenager yet, but bear with me).
[21 Guns--Green Day]
It kinda rambles, but besides that, it's all the sarcasticly insulting wittiness you've come to love from yours truly! :D I might post it. Eh. It's titled, most brilliantly: I just realized. I hate you all.
I'm proud of myself ;)
They (Bally and the other teacher in charge of newspaper) will never let me publish it, but I have ways around that :) I doubt any of you have ever heard of The Hoaxel News, but glory be, it beats the Raptor by a landslide. I could so run a newspaper when I grow up.
Or I suppose I could try submiting it to an actual newspaper, but the thing is, it's not really professional like that. It's not particularly informative and it rambles. Eh.
I bet you're all super curious to read it now ;)
And now, the song that inspired it all!
[I'm Not Okay--My Chemical Romance]
Shuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun the non-believers!

Monday, July 27, 2009

My Favorite Sonnets EVER

O! from what power has thou this powerful might,
With insufficiency my heart to sway?
To make me give the lie to my true sight,
And swear that brightness doth not grace the day?
Whence hast thou this becoming of things ill,
That in the very refuse of thy deeds
There is such strength and warrantise of skill,
That, in my mind, thy worst all best exceeds?
Who taught thee how to make me love thee more,
The more I hear and see just cause of hate?
O! Though I love what others to abhor,
with others thou shouldst not abhor my state:
.....If they unworthiness raised love in me,
.....More worthy I to be belov'd of thee.
Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art,
As those whose beauty proudly make them cruel;
For well though know'st to my dear doting heart
Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel.
Yet, in good faith, some say that thee behold,
Thy face hath not the power to make love groan:
To say they err I dare not be so bold,
Although I swear it to myself alone.
And to be sure that is not false I swear,
A thousand groans, but thinking on thy face,
One on another's neck, do witness bear
Thy black is fairest in my judgement's place.
.....In nothing art thou black save in thy deeds,
.....And thence this slander, as I think, proceeds.
O me! what eyes hath Love put in my head,
Which have no correspondence with true sight;
Or, if they have, where is my judgement fled,
that measures falsely what they see aright?
If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote,
what means the world to say it is not so?
If it be not, then love doth well denote
Love's eye is not so true as all men's: no.
How can it? O! how can Love's eyes be true,
That is so vexed with watching and with tears?
No marvel then, though I mistake my view;
The sun itself sees not till heaven clears.
.....O cunning Love! with tears thou keep'st my blind,
.....Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find.
My love is a fever, longing still
For that with longer nurseth the disease;
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
The uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which psychic did expect.
Past cure I am, now Reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as madman's are,
At random from the truth vainly express'd;
.....For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,
.....Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
When in the chronicle of wasted time
I see descriptions of the fairest wights,
And beauty making beautiful old rime,
In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights,
Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best,
Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,
I see their antique pen would have express'd
Even such beauty as you master now.
So all their praises are but prophecies
Of this our time, all you prefiguring;
And, for they look'd but with divining eyes,
They had not skill enough your worth to sing:
.....For we, which now behold these present days,
.....Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.
My tongue-tied Muse in manners hold her still,
Whilst comments of your praise, richly compiled,
Deserve their character with golden quill,
And precious phrase by all the Muses filed.
I think good thoughts, while others write good words,
And, like unletter'd clerk, still cry 'Amen'
To every hymn that able spirit affords,
In polish'd form of well-refined pen.
Hearing you prais'd, I say, ' 'Tis so, 'tis true,'
And to the most of praise add something more;
But that is in my thought, whose love to you,
Though words come hindmost, holds his rank before.
.....Then others for the breath of words respect,
.....Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in effect.
Gawd, I love Shakespeare. His words are like music; they flow so perfectly. I could read sonnets all day and never tire, or Romeo and Juliet again and again and never read anything else. If anyone can express love, real love, then he can.
I memorized the first one :)

Sunday, July 26, 2009

Check it out :)

Playlist up top. Icons down bottom. WOOT!
[Get Out Alive--Three Days Grace]
^-- New favorite song. LISTEN TO IT. If you don't, you're house will be set on fire. You have been warned.
Why is it that people mistake hopeless for desperate? Shy for snobby? Depressed for bitchy? Heartbroken for selfish? Why is everything you do twisted by someone else? Why is everything you are something else in the eyes of those around you?

Saturday, July 25, 2009

I'd rather gush over new shoes than be mad at someone.

See, I have principles.

[The Flood--Escape the Fate]

I did in fact get new shoes today, and they are awesome! So awesome I bought them with my own money! Yup, that awesome. They're, like, sneaker-ish and black with black and red laces and white and red hearts in one corner. I'll post a picture if I get the chance, cuz damn, they are awesome!

[Something--Escape the Fate]

I had a fairly terrifying nightmare last night. It's kinda hard to explain...I was sitting on the couch with my mom, watching the news, but it was, like, the apocolypse, but not in that sense, like you knew it was the end. Most of the TV stations were out, it was just news, and there was this huge, violent thunderstorm that was pretty much past hurricane-caliber that was covering pretty much the entire country (I didn't see outside the US). There was something about these convincts escaping in the Washington shore area but 2000 people pretty much shooting them down in the news. We were wearing fairly warm clothes with jackets suitable for rain on the outside. My dad wasn't there.

[Time of Dying--Three Days Grace]

The scary part was that it was the end of the world, basically. I woke up around 2:45 and started crying. I couldn't stop. The thought of everyone and everything dying terrified me. The only other time I woke to a dream crying was when I dreamed Dad died.

Friday, July 24, 2009

Six major bubbly things.

I guess you'd have to read the Uglies series to know what that means.
1. Sharpies! Pens, markers, highlighters! Sharpened/mechanical pencils! Writing utensils make me super happy. Keyboards included. It's even better when you're holding a writing utensil in front of a blank piece of paper, an empty notebook. That little bit of excitement fills you up and for a moment, just a moment, you feel like you could do anything. Or is that just me?

2. Epic tales of wonderful epicness. I love that feeling after you read or witness or do something epic that's just like: wow. Like the grand finale to the Harry Potter series, or a battle of wits between two enemies, or a freaking awesome fight scene in a movie. Lord of the Rings is a prime example of AWESOME EPICNESS.

3. Music, but more specifically, how music makes you feel. When I'm angry, I listen to Linkin Park or Three Days Grace, it gets me angrier, like a fuel to my fire. When I want inspiration, I listen to My Chemical Romance. When I'm sad, I listen to sad songs, songs that make me want to cry. There's something alive in music, something that draws out a kind of power within you. You close your eyes and let the emotion in the music drain into you, till you're alive along with it.

4. Friends are the happiest thing I remember. Without them, I don't know what I'd do; they give me strength. My friends are the greatest people on Earth. They may not be heroes to the rest of the world, but without them, I'd be nothing.

5. Encounters with, ya know, guys. If Basil associates in any way with me, and it's not mean, I'll be smiling for a week (like that one time he complimented me! eeeee!). When I texted Tyler yesterday, I couldn't stop giggling. Maybe it's just because I'm so used to people, especially guys, hating me, that when they don't the heavens open up and angels fall from the skies and serenade the world in joyous songs and rainbows.

6. The sixth and final thing that makes me happy is happiness itself. Holidays, laughter, miracles. Love and family. Parties, luke-warm soda, the energy in the air. A child being born, getting a new pet, sitting in a chair and reading a book, or petting that new pet and hearing it purr. A simple tune, a movie with a truly happy ending, soldiers coming home from war. Without happiness, where would we be? What would the world be? A shell.

You must be getting sick of all these horribly unfunny entries, but bear with me :) By the way, Lizzie tagged me, if not indirectly. I tag: Lolo. She could use a longer entry.

God, I love Mountain Dew.

Even when it's warm.
I guess this must be a good romantic time for me. My horoscope(s) for today read:

You might run into an old friend who can set you up in a big way, or you could just catch a little break at work or school. Expect a big stroke of good luck that could come in almost any form.

When you daydream about a current crush do you flash forward through time imagining your perfect life together? While having a rich fantasy life is healthy, thinking too much about all possible futures as a couple could leave you frustrated with the present. Stick to reality for now.

Damn. That's really all I have to blog about. GO THERE. Friend me. I'm Strawberry.

Thursday, July 23, 2009


Damn, I forgot to blog yesterday.

Dream it, live it, love it! Why wait to get something started? The stars are smiling on you now. Get online, get out and about, meet different people and embrace familiar ones. Happy new you!

This is my horoscope for the day. Should I listen to it? Should I look for some unassuming boy buried in a book at Barnes and Noble? (Try saying that three times fast!) I don't think I have the heart for it.
Of course, everytime I do really want to talk to someone, I chicken out or can't find the words.
[Boys--Ashlee Simpson]
Okay, people are stupid. The official definition of 'popular' is someone who gets along with everyone, but really, the really popular people don't get along with everyone. They're usually bitches. They're tan, thin, and have shiny hair. Even if they're not pretty per se, they're flawless (no acne, perfectly white teeth, never a smudge with makeup). All they're clothes are from a couple of stores (Hollister, Abercrombie, Aeropostale) and they have designer bags. They were they're hair in a high ponytail with a super-thin headband, which, by the way, might be great for sports but looks stupid anywhere else. They all listen to the same music, and it's usually something along the lines of the Jonas Brothers. Much like emos, they're extremely emotional, and get all teary over the stupidest things. If someone wrongs them, even a little bit, they demand justice. They're nails are always perfect. They have perfect handwriting and write in multi-colored markers with hearts around everything. They're jokes are shallow and fake, but they fool people into thinking they're funny (damn, I wish I knew how to do this...). They're conceited. Guys like them.
I've gotta change something. I don't want to be like them, but I don't want to be like me either. I mean, the only thing worse than being popular is not being popular.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

You just never realize it.

I got a haircut today!
One day, at the young age of nine, I almost died.
You see, there is a fairly large road next to the mall that reaches down to where Wegmans now is. There is a small strip of about 5 stores on one side, with a Donato's (now Taco Bell) next to it, in between the mall and Wegmans. Me and my mom were driving down that road. I was playing Nintendogs. I look up.
Another car has come out of the Donato's parking lot, the car of a brown/curly haired young woman. Maybe we were going to fast, or maybe she wasn't looking, but the second I looked away from the DS, her car made contact with ours.
In an instant our little Hyundai was pushed halfway across the road. It all happened too quickly to process any details, but the next second later, my mom was frantically trying to drive the injured car to the opposite side of the road. At the time, I didn't know what was happening. I didn't see any damage in either car and I had just barely realized we were hit.
Miraculously, the car managed to haul itself to the side of the road, where we waited for the police to come. During that time, after turning off my DS, I tried to open the passenger-side door. It opened slightly that stopped, so I had to crawl out my mom's side.
It may seem like just a harmless accident, with no one hurt and nothing really damaged but the door (I never got a good glance at the other car...), but it was more of a miracle than originally thought. You see, the young woman's car hit the firewall almost exactly, at just the right angle, which saved our lives. Six inches to the right, she would've hit the hood and we'd have gone spiraling out of control. Six inches to the left, I would've been crushed and killed almost instantly.
The miracle doesn't stop there. The car was indeed damaged. Besides the door being stuck, it didn't seem to want to move anywhere, particularly not out of the way of the semi-truck that was barreling straight toward us. Somehow, some way, the car got out of the way before dying. I (and my mom) was saved not once, but twice that day.
I was old enough to remember this accident, but hearing it again made it fresh in my memory. Life is so precious, so fragile, held together by the thinnest of threads. If you don't treasure every moment, that thread gets even weaker.
I don't believe in coincidence. Somewhere, someone was looking out for me and my mom. An angel up in heaven saved our lives that day, and for that, I am eternally grateful.

Monday, July 20, 2009

I'll be one tough act to follow. I'll be one tough act to follow. Here today, gone tomorrow. But you never walked a thousand miles.

[When I'm Gone--Eminem]
I love Eminem. His music is either heartbreaking or freaking awesome.
The freshman girl,
oh so shy,
sits and watches the sophomore guy.
The sophomore guy,
with his head in a whirl,
sits and watched the junior girl.
The junior girl
in her red sedan,
sits and watched the senior man.
The senior man, all hot and wild,
secretly loves the freshman child.
I love grophs. You never know what you might find. :)
Today, after I got up, I gave my more *cough* psychotic cat, Mudball, a bath. Now, Muddy is an eight-year-old, pudgy, fairly small (for a full-grown cat), and yet she managed to hang from the cabinets above the sink by her claws.
You see, Mudz hates the sound of water, water on her, being held in one place too long, and she has a whole bunch of really sensitive spots that she doesn't like being touched. Perhaps you see why baths are such cataclysmic events.
My back hurts and I have a headache. But sh*t, I love this song.
Please, please, listen to it, and look at the lyrics.

Sunday, July 19, 2009


Giving a cat a bath, my friends, is a sure-fire way to either get sopping, sopping wet or very, very scratched. Luckily, the cat in question (Marco) is a very patient cat when it comes to baths, so I only got sopping wet.
I'm reading City of Bones at Barnes and Noble and I must say, so far I love it. It has all the history behind the main story that really gives a book a sense of purpose, and, as you know, I love works of fantasy. I would definitely check it out. Also, does anyone know who wrote Th1rteen R3asons Why (or something along those lines) because I cannot for the life of me find it at Barnes and Noble.

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Natalie is NOT great.

“One should rather die than be betrayed. There is no deceit in death. It delivers precisely what it has promised. Betrayal, though ... betrayal is the willful slaughter of hope.” – Steven Deitz
“Pray that your loneliness may spur you into finding something to live for, great enough to die for.” – Dag Hammarskjold

I love these quotes.
Drat, I was supposed to save some rice for Mom...X(

Friday, July 17, 2009

Some people just don't understand the phrase "my inspiration has fled me"...

Nat wants me to blog, so, here I am.
If you could have any super power in the world, what would it be? I would read minds. So I wouldn't feel so lonely all the time.
So. Blondie is a complete and utter perv/asshole. Like a bad version of Nick (we all remember him, right?). And Nat seems completely unaware of this...I forwarded her the whole conversation...of course, Basil is an ass too, and I still adore him.
I'm never texting Blondie again.
Speaking of Basil, GUESS WHAT HE DID? GUESSGUESSGUESS!!!! OMG!!!!!!!!!!!11!!!111!1
Bet you thought something good happened. Hah. No. He DELETED me from Facebook. DELETED ME. There are not words to describe that level of hate. And he presumably did it weeks ago, after the whole 'bitchy' incident.
Words can also not describe my rage, and less expectedly, my heartache.
I know he hates me and I know he's an ass. I know he's a player. I know he's not particularly cute or anything. Again, I know he hates me. But I can't let go of him. Not even when it's as patheticly hopeless as it is.
Sigh. I know how ya feel, Nat.
The really, really, really so-depressing-you-need-pills thing is we used to be kinda friends. We TALKED to each other and played around. He told me random stuff. THEN I started liking him and THEN I started acting like a freak. Even last year, when I had all my classes with him, I just...I just wasted everything.
I wish I could tell him this without regretting it. I wish he wouldn't regret me.
Sigh. Depressed entry over. Signing

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Why, I do believe this is actually good. What say you?

Chapter One—The Explosion

“Some things you do because you want to. Some things you do because of the needs of others in your family.”

It was blazing hot and my head itched like mad, but I dared not complain about something so trivial, because it was just so stupid.
After all, I was also starving. I had no home and my family, except for my older brother Tief and younger brother Jaeten, was dead. We were being hunted for no reason and could die at any minute, or be bound and dragged to an imprisonment facility. Jaeten was ill with an unknown disease, probably the common cold, but who knew? And yet I was worried about my scalp itching.
Tief stopped suddenly, and I almost crashed into him. Jaeten bumped into me. He mouthed a ‘sorry’ and looked at our wonderful, wonderful twenty-year-old brother, a.k.a. our savior.
He was scanning the horizon, which was stabbed with the remains of long burned-out hotels. I knew what he was thinking. The remains of civilization could mean food, but it could also mean Rounders. And bombs. And nets and traps. It was dangerous being out in the open, though, too. I was sure we stood out against the blackened earth, with our charred-and-ripped-but-pale clothing. We could always go around the decades-old hotels, or turn back, but we all knew it was more likely that there would be food nearer to buildings, because if the framework survived than maybe some supplies did too.
Or people.
Tief signaled for us to keep moving, and we followed silently. I saw Jaeten looking at our older brother with wonder in his eyes…like he always did. Jaeten idolized Tief, and it wasn’t just because he had no one else to idolize. Without our wise-beyond-his-years brother, we’d very likely be dead. He took care of us after our parents died. He protected us from the soldiers and then the Rounders and stole us food. If he hadn’t managed to get us out of Tampa in time, we’d very likely be dead with the rest of the people trapped in the city.
The thought of all those thousands of people, dead within a few seconds, made my heart sting. President Patterson Darsely might’ve destroyed all the nuclear bombs before England dropped those on us, but regular bombs could kill just as easily, and they most certainly had.
World War 111 killed most of my family, and then the civil war that erupted afterwards killed the rest of it. We were all we had left. I was six when World War 111 ended, eleven when Darsely stamped out the armies set against him and declared the half of the United States that was left to him (which was a little bigger than the original thirteen colonies and included Florida) a united land he named Enta.
The southern got the worst of it, then the western states. The land above New Jersey, however, was the least destroyed, and that’s were Darsely put all the rich people that had survived, like former presidents and celebrities that got lucky and lawyers and everyone who meant something that were still alive. He turned most of the regular folk that survived into an elite fighting force, which certainly gave him an edge when ending the civil war.
Then he had to go and call the rest of us ‘rebels’. Hundreds upon thousands were caught by the Rounders, brought to the imprisonment facilities, tortured, and eventually killed. There was no mercy and no sense. These people were from all around the former United States, not just Enta, but he killed them all the same. There might’ve been a couple hundred rebels who escaped, including me and my brothers.
The Rounders were still there, though. So were the bombs. There was still danger.
“Nala. Do you see that building over there, on the right?” Jaeten’s eyes tightened and he bit his lip, obviously upset that Tief had addressed only me. Ignoring Jaeten’s jealousy, I followed Tief’s pointing finger and saw what he meant. The building was split in half, the upper portion just a skeleton, but the bottom levels were a thick black mass, which suggested something survived within.
I frowned. “It’s probably been cleaned out. It’s kind of hard to miss.”
He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, clearly amused. “You’re absolutely right. But you know that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t check.”
I shrugged off his obvious attempted chance-for-learning moment, since I had heard the same thing many times before. He chuckled softly, so softly in fact that I wasn’t sure if I was meant to hear it.
Jaeten coughed. “It could be booby-trapped.”
Tief nodded, clearly not planning on giving out lessons to our ten-year-old brother. “That’s true of most building.” My little brother looked crushed.
I had to defend him. Tief was being unnecessarily mean. “It’s true that most buildings will be cleaned out already too. You didn’t say anything about that.”
Our leader sighed heavily. He wasn’t going to start arguing, I could tell. Jaeten shot me a thankful look, though, so I didn’t care that our big brother chose to ignore me.
Tief suddenly picked up his pace as he squinted into the distance. “Do you see that?”
I tried to follow his gaze, but saw nothing. We were still very far away from the cluster of hotels. “What?”
He shook his head but didn’t slow down. “I thought I saw something move. A person.”
I swallowed. From Tampa to wherever we where now, probably somewhere in Georgia, we had not met a single person. At least, not one worth getting acquainted with. One young boy had tried to steal our scanty supplies one night, but Tief caught him. I doubted that boy would ever steal again.
“It could be a Rounder,” I warned in a hushed voice. “You don’t know. They have all sorts of tricks up their sleeves. They could be trying to lull us into a false sense of security—”
Tief shook his head, barely paying attention to me, which I imagined gave Jaeten a gratified feeling. “I don’t think it’s a Rounder. They wouldn’t lower themselves to waving their arms to get someone’s attention just to catch them—”
“I don’t even see what you’re talking about,” I interrupted, but as soon as I finished saying it, I did. In the far distance, barely visible since she/he was wearing dark clothes, a figure was waving their arms around madly, obviously trying to get our attention.
Maybe to warn us away.
I doubted Tief would listen to that argument, though. He tried to hide it, but I could tell; he was weary of the same company day in and day out. He longed for more people. He longed for something new to distract him. I sympathized. I imagined it must grow tedious, after awhile, to spend years with no one to talk to but your two younger siblings.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

I am seriously messed up.

I'm saying this because I saw the new Harry Potter movie, and I thought Draco was kinda hot.
Shut up. Just shut up.
Okay, I know he's pretty hideous from the wrong angle, and his hair is white (in the movie at least; not sure about in real life), but I just thought he was kinda hot. KINDA. Just a little.
Because, you see, he's the bad guy, the guy employed by Voldemort to do a horrendous deed, which would be cool enough. Then he feels bad about it. And he regrets. Okay, so maybe he's portrayed as weak and cowardice, but bear with me here. In the movie, he comes across more as scared and confused, which isn't half so bad. And he's kinda cute.
Now I'm trying to create a Draco-like character, but it's just not working. To create a character, I must first create a situation, and nothing is coming to mind. Sigh. Oh well. I'm going to go finish reading the seventh book.
Okay, so I happened to see Nat's latest entry again, which her response to the first question was: "Guys. Dur." That got me thinking. I really like guys. I always have. I've always been in love with the idea of love and boyfriends and weddings and the like. One time I got extremely depressed because I really, really wanted a boyfriend. But I don't want a guy from the real world, no! Our world, right now, is not a place for love. So what's a girl to do?
Okay, now I really am going to go finish reading the seventh book. Sigh. I need to meet more guys.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

I was tagged by Lizzie! Ya-hoo!

I will now take a break from what I was doing before (writing) to do this (more writing).
What have you been thinking about lately?
Oh, God, don't ask me this. No matter what Lolo says, I have much more than three thoughts a minute. Mostly, I suppose, writing, but that's always on my mind in some form. My most recent story, which has yet to be named. Going to the mall (specifically Charlotte Russe) to do some serious shopping. The $75 I have burning holes in my purse. My birthday, and what I will do for it. Vera. My little families on the Sims 2. Blogging. How no one's ever on Facebook. One of my older, more Narnia-ish stories about a girl named Danielle. Getting a new phone. The Clique. Shopping for school supplies. My pimplish face (ugh). Getting a pedicure. Pens. The 8 button on my phone. The All-American Rejects. My lack of commitment to my poor stories. My friends. Memories. And this is just the stuff I can remember right now. My mind's a maze; my thoughts are murderous zombies who jump out at you.
What's been on your mind?
Wait, isn't this the same question as the first one? Um, murderous zombies.
What are you excited about at the moment?
My rekindled writing talent (and to think, just this morning I was complaining it was gone!). That's kinda major. Oh, and the glorious, beautiful $75 in my purse. Oh, sweet non-brokedness.
When was the last time you made a difference to somebody?
Pssht, I make a difference in everyone I meet. Haha, really though, I hope I made a difference to my friends. DID I, GUYS?
Who are you really happy for at the moment?
I can't say that I am happy for anyone. It's not like anyone has done anything particularly happy-making.
You know what? I'm happy for Liddy. No one knows who that is! Mwahaha!
When was the last time you felt inspired?
I am inspired every waking minute. I believe most writers are.
Not by anything in particular, though. I draw my inspiration from some deep, unknown pool in the back of my brain. What it would be like to venture into the pool...
Wow. Weird answer. I can't be serious for five minutes, can I? :D
If you could be in your dream place at the moment what would you be doing?
I wouldn't be in a place per se, but more of a state of mind. Everything I wrote would come easily and be beautiful and entrancing. The blockage on my Pool of Inspiration would be gone.
Or I'd be in a pool with all of my friends. I'd know how to swim. We'd be cracking inside jokes and sipping lemonade and just enjoying each other's company. I'd be texting MarkyMark and Basil. The sun would be blazing hot, but no one would mind because we were all in the pool and we'd all have lemonade and smoothies. There'd be no clouds and light would just fill the air like it only does on sunny days. Then we'd all have a sleepover, because perfect days should never end.
Or I'd be at a dance, in a beautiful dress. My hair would be up and my face would be completely clear, and hopefully, beautiful. I'd wear high heels that I didn't trip in. I'd be dancing with someone I loved, someone who loved me, and our love would soak into the evening and make the roses just a little redder and the stars just a little brighter. I'd know I could never be unhappy with him, as he could never be unhappy with me, and for just one night, the world would be perfect.
Or I'd be resting my head on top of a great, shaggy dog in front of a cackling fireplace. I'd be in a tan-with-design turtleneck and jeans and I'd be sipping on perfect hot chocolate (which is hard to come by). It would be snowing outside but inside, my house was warm and cozy. I'd be completely safe, completely unafraid.
There are many forms of heaven.
If somebody was describing your personality, what would they say?
Intelligent, witty, shy, mean, sarcastic, deep, violent, pretty sweet. These are the things I've actually been called. I don't know what I am myself.
What are you most proud of?
My intelligence (hey, I'm not being conceited, I really am smart!). My artistic ability (writing included). My mad skillz with debating. There's a lot I'm not proud of, though, but no one ever asks what you're not proud of. I guess no one ever asks what you are proud of either, but hey. Oh, and my blog!
What's been tempting you lately?
The money in my pocket and my desperate want of new clothes. Not a good combination for me. I'm a bit of a stickler, and yet, I love to shop. Contradicting much?
Asking someone if they think I'm pretty. Yeah. Seriously. I'm extremely vain :D
What's been the one most consistent thing in your life?
Throughout my entire life? Being paranoid. Being afraid of disasters and death. Worrying. Notice a pattern here?
What do you love about people? or What do you love about (person’s name)?
I hate people. We're all essentially worthless (no offense, ma best budzzzz! XD). We're vain, selfish, greedy, pig-headed, and ignorant. Now, I don't hate indivuals (well, most of them), but humanity as a whole.
What do I love about Basil? He entrances me. He's so interesting. Everything he does draws me in. I can't wait to see him. I'd rather be near him and in pain than away from him. He's hilarious and so extremely smart.He's so vital. There's something in his eyes that's different from everyone else's.
That's the most I've ever said about that particular subject.
TAGGED: Nat, Lolo, and everyone else on my Awesome People list who happen to see that they were tagged.

And all the things that you never ever told me...and all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me.

Never coming home, never coming home. Should I? Could I? And all the wounds that are ever gonna scar me...for all the ghosts that are never gonna............................
[The Ghost of You--My Chemical Romance]
God, I love My Chemical Romance.
You may wonder why I'm blogging today, as opposed to, oh say, nothing. Indeed, there is no real reason. Whatevs.
Nat is right (for once :P). I should do something with my hair! Unfortunately, curling it is not an option (trust me), and I can't seem to find the darn straightener. BAH.
I really, really, really need a haircut. My hair is all frizzy and there's a ton of dead-ends and fly-aways. It's also getting too long for my taste (almost an inch past the shoulder; heresy!). I don't know why I ever grow it back out. It only looks good long.
[Desolation Row--My Chemical Romance]
I can't write anything good anymore! It's like my inspiration (or skill) has jumped out the window. Everything I write sounds like crap, doesn't flow, or sounds like a twelve-year-old's work (which is what it is, but I thought I was better than that). This is the best of my recent work:
Everything was set. Three large brown suitcases were stacked in the back of our gold Kia Sedona, one for each of us. Jeffery’s was the biggest, crammed full of all his brightly colored toys. He giggled happily from his car seat in the middle, waving his pudgy arms at the back of the driver’s seat. Mom, her eyes tired, stared straight ahead, as if she did not see us.
I traced the details of my house on the window; the huge disproportionate roof, the oblong porch that stuck out from one side, the tiny round windows in the top floor. It looked so hollow and empty. Because of its abnormal shape, it wasn’t quick to sell, and Mom was in a hurry. My home for fifteen years was to be demolished the coming Saturday.
The drive to our new house was going to take fourteen hours, crossing through Canada, but Mom wouldn’t just buy plane tickets. She said it would take too long. She, unlike me, wanted to get out of Rockford, Michigan as soon as possible. She was still reeling from the divorce and desperate to escape Dad, who, by an ill twist of fate, was her promoted to her boss a day after divorcing her. Three days after everything became final, she started packing our bags.
I asked her where we were moving. She stopped throwing things in a bag, stood up, and stared at me till I left. At dinner that night, she announced we were finally going to make use of the old house her uncle had left her in his will.
“I thought you said it was too old to be an actual house,” I say, bored. She will probably change her mind by tomorrow. There’s no way we’re moving to Vermont.
Mom shoots me a sharp look. “Mia, I want the utmost cooperation from you. I’m going to busy with arrangements and I need you to watch over Jeffery.”
I look out the window, unafraid. “Why would we move to another cold state? Why not Florida?”
She doesn’t answer. She shakes her head and resumes eating dinner. She never lasts in any sort of discussion. She’s too weak. She’ll change her mind.
Mom had been serious about moving to Vermont. She could’ve gotten another job, but no, we had to move out of the state. I stared bitterly out the window, at my home. It would be gone forever in four days. My childhood, gone in four days.
Jeffery whined from the middle row, his round blue eyes confused.
“’Sokay, Jeffy,” I whispered. Mom must’ve heard me, but she didn’t say anything. She was too defeated to say anything to me. If it came to a fight, which it surely would, I would destroy her.
Strangely, after she had declared we were moving, we stopped fighting. I avoided her because I was furious; she avoided me because she was exhausted. It had been a strangely calm, yet tense, week.
Jeffery continued to whine.
“Throw him a toy, will you, Mia?” She didn’t look at me as she said it. Maybe she was worried our eyes would ignite the screaming match.
Jeffery’s tiny blue elephant, the only toy not in a suitcase somewhere, was shoved into the stuffed glove apartment at last minute, when Mom had realized he had nothing to play with.
He grabbed it as soon as he saw it, and immediately started chewing one of the soft blue ears. Mom saw it in the rearview mirror and sighed.
My home disappeared from sight too soon. I knew I’d never see it again, so I stared at it as long as I could, trying to hold the memory of it in my head. I looked for my bedroom window, but it didn’t come into view till we were turning the corner.
My breath caught in my throat. There was someone standing in the window. Their face peered out at me, cold as stone, with blood red lips and hollow cheeks, and eyes the color of the midnight sky.
And this is some of the best of my old work:
The silence engulfed me, clearing my mind. I didn’t breathe, for fear it would awaken the beast. Awaking the beast would mean death, I was sure.
It was not peaceful, even in sleep. It’s heavy back rumbled as it breathed like an earthquake, its teeth shivered with every breath. I had been taught to fear the teeth…and respect them.
Awaking the beast would mean death. I had to remember that.
Slowly I moved. Just a tiny bit, stopping suddenly in case it showed signs of waking up. The beast remained sleeping. Setting aside my relief, I completed the step closer to its massive hulking body.
A painful, horribly sharp noise burst over head of me. I didn’t have to look to know it was that of the colorful Gayana Bird, the loudest in the forest. In my mind, I saw the bright plumage, a rainbow of colors, always different…the sharp, golden brown beak and talons…the shining white eyes that never blinked.
The monster stirred, very gently, and I froze.
A grumbling sound, like a volcano, erupted from it, shaking the earth with its force. I refused to breathe, in case it would give away my position. I had to complete my mission…death, if I didn’t.
The grumbling stopped, and the beast was still asleep.
Again, I put aside the overwhelming relief and slowly, carefully, raised the sharp glinting spear over it. So close…I could not fail now.
In that moment, I realized I was alone. If I failed…if I missed the heart…no one could save me. This was my orientation. If I did not learn, I would die. It was simple…it was terrifying.
I closed my eyes…they would betray me if I saw the disgusting scene about to unfold. Whether it would be mine or the beasts, blood was about to spill. My one weakness…gore. One of the many reasons my orientation was so much more deadly than others. I had to overcome my fears, or else I could not survive. Only the strongest survived, and I had to.
My eyes did not give me away…my terror did. As I raised the spear higher, I could not fight back the sharp intake of breath as I thought about the impossible task I had been assigned to.
In that one instant, I saw the monster’s horrible blazing eye, red like fire, staring at me.
No, I thought. I’m not going down without a fight. Not like this.
No longer hesitating, I shoved the spear into its chest, praying I would hit the heart.
The red eyes still stared at me, but the looked not angry. Fear tainted them, not rage. I realized that I was so entranced by it, I had forgotten to close my eyes. But it didn’t matter…all I could see was that burning eye staring at me. I could not feel anything except what I saw in that eye…fear, sadness…loneliness. Time froze. Its eyes went blank.
The wind whistled briefly through the trees and almost seemed to say Thank you.
Time restarted.
See the difference? That's not even my best! I have to get good at writing again or I might as well go beg on the street now.

Monday, July 13, 2009

This isn't healthy.

You must hate that I'm right.
Once again, I am filled with utter contempt for your disgusting cowardice. Why do you think you can manipulate people to believe you? Why do you think you're so extremely smart? No matter what, the truth will always win, and the truth is, I'm right and you're pathetic. Stop pretending you're better than me. You're fake, condescending, cowardly, pompous, and conceited. You try to turn the ones I love against me, and won't acknowledge that you fail. You won't acknowledge that you're wrong in anything. You're a liar and you try to use that as an excuse. There is nothing redeeming about you. You're pathetic and unworthy of my effort.
F*ck off.
[Going Under--Evanescence]
Like, seriously, I have a thing with obsessions. I switch obsessions like other people switch...well, what do you change every week? The most recent have been:
  • Interior decorating and housing/furniture styles.
  • Expensive clothes.
  • Back-to-school shopping (school supplies, not clothes).
  • The Sims 2
  • The Xenon.
  • Article writing (for the school newspaper).

I'm fantastic.

Okay, so for back-to-school, I'm writing an article on: If it had to be one or the other, should music/art or sports be cut? I should get started on that, but most of it I can't do till school starts. I also started one for the Valentine's Day edition (I know, faaaaaaaar away): Can middle schoolers feel love? Fun, no? I started writing it and so far it's just the deep, corny crap I expected. Yahoo!

By the way, not that it's particularly important, but I believe it's the indivual, not the age group, that feels love, and it's a different love for every person.

[Hit the Floor--Linkin Park]

I would, of course, be referring to romantic love. But hey, if you can love your friends and family, can't you love someone as a boyfriend/girlfriend? I think most people would say no because our age throws the term around too much and doesn't realize what it really means. But really, does anyone know what love is?

So, I would update you on my recent going-ons, but there have been none.

I'm going to go browse the Charlotte Russe website for back-to-school ideas.

Sunday, July 12, 2009

And the world thinks that I'm to blame...why can't we see that when we bleed, we bleed the same?

[Map of the Problematique--Muse]
As you might've guessed, I went to the beach today. I'm not sure how to describe it except as I. LOVE. THE. BEACH. I didn't get burned!
My parents are going to love this entry.
This is a little-known fact, but I love high-end clothes. I love clothes that you see and think "I could never wear that. Only movie stars wear that." Some of my favorite stores include Express, Bebe, Charlotte Russe, BCBGMAXAZRIA, Armani Exchange, Juicy Couture, and Marshall Rousso, which I secretly love despite the fact that they're all for twenty-three-year-olds. The clothes reek fashion, even the ones from Juicy Couture and Marshall Rousso (I never actually went into these stores, but I absolutely adored the clothes on the mannequins in the window).
T-shirts and year-old jeans just aren't cutting it for me anymore. I want to wear the clothes that people see in store windows and stop and stare because they're so fabulous, and then see and actual people and think 'HOLY CRAP THEY LOOK LIKE A MOVIE STAR!'. There are just two problems with that:
  1. I'm not 23, and thus, I don't have a 23-year-old's body.
  2. If I wore these clothes to school, I'd still be stared at, but for a much different reason.

Ah, the horrible suckishness that there are no high-fashion clothes for eigth graders. Damn, it won't let me get a picture. Anyway, this shirt is soooooo hot, and the belt just completes it. I'm not sure if it would be allowed in school, because of the sleeves and the sheerness (even with a tank underneath). I absolutely adore this neckline, and I wish I knew what it was called. The shirt is just so glamorous, but not flashy. I think the sleeves would be okay in school. This outfit is just incredibly classy and fashionable. With tights (no) or dark skinny jeans (yes) like the description says, it would be perfect. This entire outfit flows perfectly together. I love the stripes on the shirt and the silver accesories just add something. The only problem is the top of the shirt. Holy shit, this is hot. Unfortunately, so is the rest of the clothes in bebe. They're all very sexy, no? Damn. I could wear this. I love this neckline, but seriously, no thirteen-year-old could either pull it off or wear it without controversy. Dude! Tell me one reason I couldn't wear this to school! Good God. I love Charlotte Rousse. There are so many more, but I don't want to waste space, considering how long this entry is gonna be anyway. This. Dress. Is. So. Freaking. Hot. God, I love this store. If the link doesn't work, add the =. Holy crap! This is so perfect! I can't even get over how perfect it is! I can't even say it. See above. There is nothing I love quite so much as pencil skirts. I don't see how anyone, anywhere, would ever have the oppurtunity to wear this, but still. Wow. Need words be said?

And I couldn't find anything from Marshall Rousso, though they looked so incredible at Atlantic City. Oh wellz. Wow, I have expensive taste. I wish I was 23 and could wear this stuff. Oh well. It's Charlotte Russe for me. What are your favorite stores?

Wednesday, July 8, 2009




It's also my one-hundredth post! Oh, I feel so special!

Celebrate with me! C'mon, don't be shy! RAISE THE ROOF!!!!!


It's jubilation!
Well, gosh, I better make this post the gosh darn best post I've ever written! Not. It'll probably be short and boring. Whatever.
Actually, I have nothing more to say. My life is boring and empty. *turns away in shame*
It's better than being suicidal, I suppose, but that's kind of irrelevant, now isn't it?
That is all.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Dear anonymous,

Weak. Cowardice. Afraid. That's what I think of when I think of you. You truly disgust me. I can't stand being associated you. You're so afraid of a fight...why? Because you know I'd destroy you? Saying you don't want to fight is a pathetic excuse. By God, stand up for what you believe in! Unless I've already trounced you, even before we've started.
Suck it up. I don't care if you're afraid of me. You started this mess, you can't just wade in, especially when I've already dived into the pool. You wanted to get angry, well, fine, I'm angry. Eventually you'll realize it doesn't matter how hard you fight, I'll always win, I'll always come out on top. But that doesn't mean you get to be a coward. It's the fight, dammit!
Forgive me. I'm pissed.
I'm not a whore, a liar, a loser, stupid, bitchy, or selfish. Does everyone hate me, or just most people?
99th post!

The Burners

It started out strangely enough, with just one Burner.
Dane never wanted to join. He never wanted to be involved at all with Hem Sharper. He never wanted to be watching the girl he loved/despised cry in a bookstore. But, like everyone else, he had been sucked in before he knew how to get out, and by then it was too late.
Hem Sharper arrived at Brentview High like a tornado, and it changed everyone for good. He wasn't popular, good-looking, kind, and he didn't do sports, yet he received a cult-like following. Dane, a popular boy himself, swore he'd have no part in it.
Dane was approached by Hem directly. Dane had no choice but to concede.
No one understood what Hem was doing, but they did whatever he said regardless, including Dane. Hem said he was looking for 'the right one', whatever that meant, but they all searched for him, including Dane, even when Hem approaches him with a picture of Ara Richards. Like a good follower, Dane obeys his master, and spies on Ara for days before describing her to Hem (as if he'd need to, as if he didn't already know her so well!). Hem, pleased, declared that Ara is 'the one'.
That night, Dane wakes up to the sound of sirens. He rushes to Ara's house, only three streets away, and gapes at the destruction. Flames rip through half her house, melting windows with the obscene heat.
Ara emerges from the flames in hysterics, accusing Dane of setting the fire that destroys half her house. Confused, but suspicious, Dane confronts Hem, who declares that he is officially a Burner...
Follow Ara's descent into madness as Hem turns her mind inside out. Watch Dane's futile battle to save Ara and stop Hem before he destroys another life. Marvel at Hem...the devil, the madman, the sociopath, the genius who keeps one step ahead of them all, controlling them all, driving them all into insanity.
Damn, I wish I could write this story.


Mia Baxter has never known what a real nightmare is...
It's a week till school starts and a week after her dad cheated on her mom, resulting in a disastrous and rushed divorce. It's not that Mia cares about that...but when her ex-dad gets promoted and becomes her mom's new boss, her mom can't take anymore. That night she announces they're moving to a house her uncle left her in his will.
Two days later, her mom is driving Mia and her baby brother, Jeffery, fourteen hours to the small town of Berkshire, Vermont. Almost immediately, Jeffery starts some strange behaviour, and Mia is stuck with no friends for the entire summer. To make matters worse, her mom is never around anymore, almost as if she's disappeared.
This is not a typical teen-adjustment story. Now it gets ugly...
After two weeks of eerie silence, Jeffery erupts into tears on the kitchen counter. Mia rushes in. Standing over her brother, eyes gaunt and cheeks hollow, is the cursed ghost named Isaiah...
Terrified, Mia slowly starts to reach for a knife, but instead comes face to face with the grotesque demon Lidra. She is sure she's going to die when Isaiah leaps in front of her and vanquishes the demon back to the forbidden attic.
Isaiah explains that he was cursed to remain on Earth for eternity, denied his access to heaven. He wandered around for centuries before discovered the murderous spirits and demons that dwell in this house. He soon devoted his life (death?) to protecting the innocents that lived in the haunted house.
He also has a warning...Lidra and the other monsters are after Mia and Jeffery. They've waited centuries for a young, susceptible body to use as a passage away from the house and back to Earth. Mia and her brother and the perfect hosts for the demons to wreak their havoc. However, Mia's spirit cannot dwell in the body still...she must be killed.
Isaiah quickly becomes Mia's sole friend, protecting her and Jeffery from the demons that want her dead.
It is day-to-day terror for Mia, until her stepsister Lizzy comes to visit for the summer. Suddenly, all the ghosts disappear, including Isaiah. At first, Mia is relieved. Aside from missing Isaiah, she and her brother are finally safe. Even if Lizzy is cruel and she officially has no friends...
Oh, but it's not over yet. Just wait and see what happens next...
Soon, however, Mia begins to suspect something more sinister with the disappearance of the ghosts. Her mom stops leaving voicemails and stops leaving her shoes at the door...all traces of her disappear. Mia's fears are confirmed when she catches Lizzy hanging over Jeffery's crib, knife in hand...
Suddenly it's again a fight to stay alive, and this time, Isaiah cannot save her.

Sunday, July 5, 2009

I tried to do handstands for you, but every time I fell for you. I'm permanently black and blue, permanently blue for you.

Fireworks are magical.
A noisy field filled with strangers, occasionally glancing at the flashing lights in the distance; the police. Glow sticks parading around on the necks of the anxious children and fun-loving adults. The buzz of thousands of voices is everywhere, old and young, large and small. Children giggle as they toss their magic glow sticks around in the air and chase each other, with the eyes of worried parents on their little backs. Large families spread out on little blankets and lawn chairs, gazing at the sky and at each other.
Suddenly the sky explodes with red, and every heart stops. It can't be called a hush because it's too sudden, too shocking. The first fireworks are quickly followed by more, and more. Multi-colored stars explode and sparkle across the inky black sky, illuminated the smoky skeletons of their used-up predecessors. White and green and blue rain down the sky, sparkling and dancing as they slowly fade and die. They burst, burning our eyes with their glowing outlines and wrenching our ears apart with their deafening booms. For just a moment, every soul wishes the fireworks could stay up there in the sky forever, illuminating the cold night with their explosions of color. Maybe, just maybe the world would be a better place...
Eyes are glued open, absorbing the magical fireworks, the joyous bombs. You cannot blink, you cannot breathe. Chilly wind bites at your bare legs but you can't move, you can't adjust. The explosions in the sky have you frozen in place, struck by the pure joy they exude. Surely, this must be what freedom is about. This must be what we celebrate every year on this unassuming date. Thousands of strangers brought together, as familes and friends and lovers, to witness something incredible and beautiful, something that might be done all the time but means something more on that one night.
There is no rain date for freedom, no saving money on love. There's no shyness in celebration. Imagine the impossibility of it...a community of strangers sharing something so sacred with people they don't know, people they do know; with light splayed across the ground and splattered in the sky, with hope filling the air, with freedom setting the fireworks ablaze.
By God, there's nothing better.
Oh my, today was fun. I went to the King of Prussia mall with Lolo! I guess not a lot of particular note happened. I played Barracuda (Heart) on Guitar Hero at a Sony store with a creepy teenager waiting for most of the song to go next, and then commenting that I was on level easy as I walked away. Oh, and we never went into the juniors section at J.C.Penny's. I just realized that.
Lolo doesn't really like Mountain Dew. Hmmph.
After this I'm writing a list of things I want for my birthday on my List Blog (MOM AND DAD). So check that out if you want. Haha.
I finally sold Lolo my Sims 3 (doesn't work on my computer), which brings my total cash up to $69. Oh, the possibilities...
I have the creativity and intelligence of a scientist, but I can't put them together. It's either one or the other. Hmm...
Oh, the joys of fireflies.