Arnold's wishes

Arnold is my teddy bear.
He is an amateur filmmaker and professional hugger, and I love him very much! He wears green overalls that are much too big for him and he has gorgeous synthetic chocolate brown fur. And a red bow. :3 * little kid nostalgic face*.

But ANYWAY, Arnold wanted me to wish you all a safe and happy new year! And hopefully he'll see most of you tomorrow, and hopefully I will too. I'll be wearing a black and stripey dress and a party hat with Snow White and a select few dwarves adorning it. :DIt'll be FANTASTICO. I also have 2 crowns, for anyone interested.

Here's hoping your next couple of days are fantastico too! From Arnold and I, LOVE LOVE LOVE!!!!!! <3

Sing-a-ma-jigs

Are awesome.
I also got a snuggie, which isn't really a snuggie, it's a copy of a snuggie, but it's still awesome. It's zebra print. And cozy. Mmmmm-mmm, how I love Christmas. Money, and candy, and SNUGGIES.

Oh myyy.

Merry Christmas Everybody

And happy birthday, Jesus.

an interruption of the usual broadcast, for a short rant.

I hate you for pulling this kind of crap. seriously. I don't know how you sleep at night. Cliche, cliche, cliche I know. But cliches are cliche for a reason. You, my dear girl are a cliche. A cliche in the way you have hurt two people who I care about deeply. In the way you have shown disregard for others feelings, and how their way of thinking can be different from your own. All I'm saying is, if you were run over by a bus, I would probably shrug, and go on with my day.

Back to the Future

I want to have memories of this time when I'm older.
I want to be able to sit around photo albums with my old friends who I haven't seen for years, drinking wine, and talking about our kids and the good old days.
I want to have cool friends who make me feel like high school was only a few days ago.
I want to have friends like my parents' friends.

I feel sad when I think about the future, and graduation, and how we're all going to be going our separate ways. But I take comfort in the fact that it won't be the end, it's the beginning of a new chapter.

These are my high school friends, these are the friends who I'm going to visit over the holidays when we all come home to sleep on our parents' couches.
I'm pretty happy with that.
I like to think that when we all get together 10, 20, 30 years from now, things will feel the same, only we'll have more to say, and more of a taste for fine wine and stuffed olives and goat cheese dip.

Life is really like one big book, with lots of chapters, all a little different from the one before, but all tying together and constantly looking back at the ones before.

I love my friends, and I look forward to our adventures in life reunited.

The First Recipe Post!

I'm sure many great things were born of accidents. But I can only think of one: penicillin. And my half-brother Evan. I suppose he has the potential to be great.

Okay, two.

Today is special because you can add another little jewel to the surprisingly short list of accidental wonders (or wonders-to-be) that you happen to know and keep in your head at all times to defend your own unintentional blunders and gaffes. Or is that just me?

(I realize that I am starting many sentences with all kinds of forbidden joining words. Ack.)

Voilà: Marzipecans

Mum is making a boozy Christmas cake to celebrate the season in merry measure and it is my job to roast the pecans, so I pop a generous layer of them in the oven and go off to do something distracting. After watching the same nerdy math video for an hour, a scent of husky Christmas flavourings begins to waft and infuse the house with mouth-watering nuttiness.

This causes me rush upstairs in search of the source, whereupon I find a pile of overcooked nuts heaped on the counter like lumps of coal. Oh, bother. Sorry Mum.

I'm not sure if I should have mentioned this before, but the cake is one that requires marzipan, so the day before a bunch of us had gotten together for no other reason than finding marzipan for the sake of the season. We had looked high and low, far and near, and found quite a few items that were a tad queer. So, with arms full of lobster chips and in a full range of moods, we burst into the cake section of the local Save on Foods. There we found marzipan! And a tree to boot! In much higher spirits we returned with the loot.

As it turns out, the marzipan was way too sweet for our tastes.

Now, remember the me who is standing in front of scads of burnt pecans and overly sweet marzipan. Something clicked.

1. Slice the marzipan as you would cheese and place atop a halved burnt pecan. Consume.
2. The sickening sweetness and the bitter burnt go rather well together, don't you think?

I want to create a world for lost children. A place where we can sip on sugary lemon drinks, and dip our feet into oceans of sugar and wear velvet everyday, and cover ourselves in lace before we go to sleep. A place with fox masks and skittering mice, and accordion music and owls. A place where a raccoon is my best friend, and this raccoon and I travel the world together, until we feel tired, that's when we slip down into the ground, into a burrow and cuddle together until we feel the sun peeking through cracks in the dirt. I want to create a world where nostalgia is gone for good, because we are always children. always. always. always. Things aren't difficult, but they aren't easy. We don't feel bored, because there's enough work to go around, and we are always able to pretend the floor is lava, and jump from rock to rock, waiting for the magma to cool. I want to live in this dream world, where I am a wilder child, and the wind is my friend, and the ocean my mother, and the earth my father's brother. I want to live there, and breathe there, and die there.

I love www.letterstocrushes.com

"Dear Star Wars girl I sit with at lunch,
I like girls! Surprise! To be more specific, I like you, for being so adorable and nerdy and hilarious. Let's read Death Note together and go to midnight showings of RHPS. I'll be the Columbia to your Frank-N-Furter, or the Brad to your Janet, whichever you want or need.
Baby, I'm a music obsessed lesbian zombie, and you're the most delicious mac-and-cheese I've ever seen. Hearing you laugh makes my day. I wish we had more than a half hour a day.
Let's make it simple- I'm gay, you're perfect, I love you. What now?"

Horoscopes!

"Rebelliousness, recklessness, impatience, a sudden burst of anger or your need to break free from rules and restrictions may create a lot of disruption in your life right now. Also, you can't seem to settle down or focus on one task for any length of time.
Though you are unusually energetic, it is hard for you to get anything done. You tend to fly off the handle and to scatter your forces.
You are happiest now when you do something creative and daring, which doesn't involve trying to cooperate or conform to others' wishes and needs. "

I need to stop being so judgmental.

I need to stop being so paranoid.

I need to stop being so dishonest.

I need to stop annoying people.

I need to stop talking without thinking.

I need to stop worrying.

I need to stop over-analyzing.

I need to remember to moisturize more.

Mum's the word

I get really stressed out when I can't ask people what they're thinking at that very moment whilst on the telephone with me and they sound distressed. But it's more awkward on the telephone due to the fact 1) they're not YOUR mum 2) They're your FRIEND'S mum 3) you actually don't know her well enough to ask a question beyond " how's work, ma'am?" and 4) I'm a neurotic girl opposed to telecommunications.

Interpretation

So... Who doesn't have a Christmas story?

Oh Merry Christmas! Happy Christmas! Joyeux Noel! I wish wonderful things upon you.

Especially Goat, who seems to be pulling a lot of the weight in our blog nowadays. Just know that everything I say is completely open for interpretation. Let's practice.

"People come and go so quickly here!" Is a reference to Oz! Or perhaps I don't want people to go so quickly. Maybe I'd like to sit them down and have a lengthy conversation with them over camomile tea. Or I envy the swift of foot, and would very much like to be as speedily competent as they.

"I like your shoes." Marry me? Or you complimented something about me and it has suddenly made me hyperaware of your garb, and just how much I like it. Or I really just like you as a person, but I see your shoes as an extension of you.

"Tolerate me." I'm being a bore. Or I think I am. Or I think you think I am. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?

"How are you?" This is a mere conversation starter, I don't actually want to hear you say, fine, or good, or not bad. Or I'm onto you, I know exactly how you are and I'm waiting to see if you will tell me the truth. Or I want to hear about your last dentist appointment. That's a fair assumption.

Practice:

"I felt like the camel who couldn't pass through the eye of the needle, but that really doesn't matter because I like your shoes, and how are you by the way?"

a little bit of summertime amongst all this joyous snow that falls

I love December. Good things happen in December. There are pretty lights, the smell of pine and smoke from my living room fire which makes me remember summer, and camping. I don't really know what I can say. I feel rather cut off from all of you. I've been writing lots, and painting lots (perhaps more than is healthy), not reading nearly enough, and stressing as I'm sure you all are as well. Stress. Such a simple concept BUT SO DIFFICULT TO COPE WITH WHEN YOU DON'T HAVE YOUR SKETCHBOOK. Don't you hate, that as soon as you start to feel stable and knowing of yourself, you blink and you're suddenly a different person living a different life? Perhaps it's not a bad thing. Just scary. Terrifying, actually. I re-read one of my old notebooks from the summertime, and I couldn't help but chuckle at my over-dramatic self. However, that sleepover at Sycorax's in August, it really was just such a wonderful time. "WIDE AWAKE AND LYING IN A STREETCAR FULL OF CATS". Sometimes I think about why it was a wonderful time. And I don't know. It just was. Good company, good music, and just the right amount of laughter, I think. There are many other things I remember from the summer, all documented on film that I have yet to develop. Out of fear? I don't think so, because I miss my cottage terribly and I miss the constant birdsong and I miss waking up and eating fruit salad with my grandpa and I miss the lake so much it's like I have misplaced an organ. The waves were so beautiful on windy days, walking down on the rocks and finding fox skulls and delicate pink stones and rather crude rocks the size of elephants (literally). I remember how distressful it was to ride my bike along the road, and there being so many dragonflies that in the wheels of the bike were dozens of fragile, broken bodies. I will not ever forget the feeling of driving back up to my house and not feeling relieved at all, rather, horrified at the sight of it because it no longer felt like a home. Strange. I think the only real home we have is inside of us. Corny. BUT IT'S DA TRUTH U GUISE~

Letting People Down

So today, I realized that I would have to let someone down. So today, I realized just how much I hate letting people down.

In my specific situation, I must let down a teacher whom I offered my time to for a project. Granted this project holds no benefits for myself, I still feel terrible having to let go of it. It bothers me that I can't offer my time to this person anymore, and yet I have no intention of changing my mind. Normally in such situations I am known to make sacrifices in my own schedule to make room for other things such as this. But I cannot make sacrifices any longer. And for this I am sorry. Even though the person I apologize to now will never see this, it still feels right to let the idea out into the universe.

So to all of you whom I seem to not have time for at the moment, I am sorry. But I'm making time for me. =P

Choir

The songs that were supposed to make me cry didn't, they made me upset in an angry way.

And when I had to read the damn poem I messed up. And then grandpa started clapping. And I blushed even more. My face must have looked like a boil on the face of the Earth's crust filled with molten hot magma. Yum. But the second time I did it, it was better. But I didn't have much emotion. It was about a fracking Winter Eden. And I read it like it was about.... Popsicle sticks.

Oh well. The choir[s] in question really do have a crazy impact on my life. And I probably wouldn't change it for the world, even if I do have to read poems in front of mass amounts of people and say "uhhmmm" and blush like a boil. And sing really high and overpower the poor other girls that I feel uber bad for singing louder than.

The Delicate Art of Being Witty

I hate it when you're having a conversation with somebody, and there are lots of people who you would kill to impress around, and there's the perfect moment to say something witty, and nothing comes out.

The most you can hope for is some punching of the air, word gagging, and expressing of how much you wish you had something witty to say.

Then at least maybe there's the off chance that you'll get laughter and respect, if only for pure awkwardness.

I am such a fail around people.

Unless they have known me long enough to get past that, and I feel comfortable enough with them to act like a complete idiot without really caring.

I have no shame when it comes to public performance, at least then you see the audience as one big mass of faces, without being able to clearly focus on the fact that each person in the audience could very well be judging you and everything you do. You just don't notice it, all you see is the faces.

But when you know exactly who you're talking to, and you can pick out each and every person who is listening in, all you get is word vomit.

Ah well, I'll just cling to the whole "so awkward it's funny" thing I seem to have going on, it's served me okay thus far.

I just saw an old man pull a fake lobster out of a trash can downtown.

I love December

A lot, actually. I get to annihilate small snow fort cities with my snowbnall ammunition and not get a special news report on my terrorism.

I also get to drink hot chocolate (because it tastes nicer when there's snow outside), and I get to wear warm clothes that make me feel like a woolen snow goddess, and I get to have cute rosy cheeks. And magical smoke breath.

Oh, how I love December :)

Campaign for Marc Jacob's BANG Fragrance

Is this not the gayest thing you have ever seen? Note the Spongebob tattoo.

Mum

That is how it is supposed to be spelled. M-u-m. She was very firm on this matter. She would mock me if I said m-o-m, pronounced mawm. Mum. It is also a word which means zipping your lips. Quiet, keep mum and ne touchez pas. I like this sort of upbringing and I still take it very seriously. I quarreled most ardently with a girl named Christina in grade four because she would not accept M-u-m.

Dad tried to get me to call her Mama when I was three. He knew that would really make her mad.

Sexism is something that I feel that I have not experienced. Mum worries about this. I watch that MadMen show with their elegant flair and debonair mien. A bottle of whiskey in every drawer and a cigarette hanging from every mouth. The way people used to be, when the woman played her part perfectly. The men are all idiots. The secretaries humor them and giggle girlishly, oh, it is sickening. I want to go back to that time.

'Uh, no you don't,' Mum upbraids me. 'Women were treated like crap.'

'I'd like something to fight for.'

'Ha. There still is something to fight for.' Mum has wide eyes and a high, drawn out tone due to irritation. She expects me to know this already. 'Dolt.'

I want to sound like the Moldy Peaches.

Despite the fact that my skills as a singer stretch only as far my ability to stay on pitch, it is still my secret dream to share my musical vision with the world.

I like writing, I like writing songs. It's like novels, but shorter. It's like poetry, but with a tune.

So I spend a good chunk of my time writing these songs, and they would all be perfect for the perfect sort of voice, but that perfect sort of voice isn't mine.

My voice isn't brassy and belty, or melodious and smooth. I sing my songs and they don't sound right.

Also I can't play an instrument. And I'm not yet skilled enough to gracefully compose the intricacies of acappella.

So this is my pickle.

But I started writing a song last night. And I sang it. And it sounded pretty good.

So I have been spending my time perfecting the art of acoustic, alternative, cutesy, speak-singing, for that is the perfect voice for the perfect little version of my song that's currently swirling around in my head.

But the only problem is I need a man (as we all do some times).

I want to sound like the Moldy Peaches.

So this is my little dream, one that I decided to write a little self-involved blog post about.

That is all.

Renaissance!

I am BACK! Blog banishment set me on edge. Every time I attempted to type I was blocked by blogger who apparently is prejudiced against emails based in a certain singing group. I had so many ideas that now elude me. None of them will ever be committed to the virtual parchment of the internet. Be thankful for that.

I must, of course, thank Falco who redeemed me like a pawnshop pen.

Sorry. I am trying out some bad similes. It's how I get psyched before entering the Bulwer-Lytton Writing competition! Before you google it, why not feast your eyes on this gem:

Archibald Aqueous was a man who never had enough time, whose life was consumed ravenously by a desperate desire to to good by his job, and by his aging daughter who was not satisfied with the breast implants his money could buy; and yet, when, mid-phone call, a latex-laden alien beamed him up into the leviathan spacecraft, he just managed to tell his secretary to cancel his 3 o'clock.

Enter it if you want, but I don't think it is bad enough.

Signing off, I love you like a toothless, three-legged, blind terrier loves to express rage by deafening the rest of us, but we don't really mind because the realms of 'ruff-ruff' are the only vents the poor thing has left.

Chistmas

24 days.

To make this day special, here is a poem by Robert Frost which I like very much.

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound’s the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

Wintersong

The lake is frozen over
The trees are white with snow
And all around
Reminders of you
Are everywhere I go

It's late and morning's in no hurry
But sleep won't set me free
I lie awake and try to recall
How your body felt beside me
When silence gets too hard to handle
And the night too long

And this is how I see you
In the snow on Christmas morning
Love and happiness surround you
As you throw your arms up to the sky
I keep this moment by and by

Oh I miss you now, my love
Merry Christmas, merry Christmas,
Merry Christmas, my love

Sense of joy fills the air
And I daydream and I stare
Up at the tree and I see
Your star up there

And this is how I see you
In the snow on Christmas morning
Love and happiness surround you
As you throw your arms up to the sky
I keep this moment by and by



I've listened to that 9 times....and I downloaded it half and hour ago

I usually hate facebook chat, but sometimes it's okay when you're talking to someone about Ben Folds, and not bothering to really talk about important shit.

I had a really good evening. I feel all reconnected and stuff... And I am currently drinking a pumpkin spice latte, about to go have a shower, finished my homework, listening to some calm music, just really enjoying myself. except for my thumb. Which was savagely attacked by a cheese grater. But I'm willing to look past that to the heart of the matter. Which is that I feel really good about things right now.

My ears

So, my left ear has been bothering me for the past couple of weeks, and on Thursday I went to the doctor and I told him " OKAY. I KNOW THERE ARE GROSS BLOCKAGES AND STUFF ALL UP IN MY EAR CANAL, BUT PLEASE CAN YOU CHECK TO SEE IF IT'S ALL GROSS AND INFECTED!?" Which it wasn't.

But it still hurt like sin, so he told me to put olive oil in my ear and come back next Thursday.

Now I can't hear out of my left ear. Thanks, doctor man. You've made me deaf.

Buying Time - Great Big Sea

I stayed awake for hours again last night Searching for a reason to keep up the fight

I've made choices I don't regret

I've got problems I don't get

I didn't want to carry the heavier load

You can't always take the middle road

There comes a time when you make up your mind And the point get left behind

CHORUS:

Oh lets wait one more day for the conversation One more day to make it right

Lets get away from the confrontation

One more day just buying time

For years and years you can drift alone

And write another verse to an endless song

Wait one more day till the time is right

Hoping that you both see the light

You won't see the light!

CHORUS

I'm not afraid to sleep alone

I'm not afraid to be alone

Stayed awake for hours again last night

Just searching for a reason to keep up the fight

I've made choices I don't regret

But I've got problems and problems and problems and problems...

CHORUS

Shine On You Crazy Diamond

Remember when you were young, you shone like the sun.

Shine on you crazy diamond.
Now there's a look in your eyes, like black holes in the sky.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
You were caught on the crossfire of childhood and stardom,
blown on the steel breeze.
Come on you target for faraway laughter,
come on you stranger, you legend, you martyr, and shine!
You reached for the secret too soon, you cried for the moon.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
Threatened by shadows at night, and exposed in the light.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
Well you wore out your welcome with random precision,
rode on the steel breeze.
Come on you raver, you seer of visions,
come on you painter, you piper, you prisoner, and shine!

-------------------------------------------------------

Nobody knows where you are, how near or how far.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
Pile on many more layers and I'll be joining you there.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
And we'll bask in the shadow of yesterday's triumph,
and sail on the steel breeze.
Come on you boy child, you winner and loser,
come on you miner for truth and delusion, and shine!

Teapots

I just went for a walk with a teapot in Scotland.

It was nice.

And some of that teapots unquenchable warmth rubbed off on this distressed mind of mine and everything just melted away.

Thank you teapot.

Cute?

"I want a guy who will be my best friend. We will share secrets and inside jokes. He'll make me laugh with his sarcastic humor. I'll make him laugh with my sarcastic humor.
I want a guy who can be romantic. I want him to run his fingers through my hair and kiss me. I want to run my fingers through his hair and kiss him. I want to be able to cuddle with him until the sun rises.
I want a guy who will treat me right. He will make me dinner and compliment me on my outfits. He will take me out on dates and bring me on walks in the park. He will call me beautiful.
I want a guy who I can have fun with. I want to be able to go on endless drives singing at the top of our lungs together. I want to dance in the living room at midnight to a loud, crazy song. I want to slow dance at sunrise to silence.
I want a guy who will comfort me when I need to be comforted. I want to be able to cry on his shoulder as he hugs me and tells me everything will be all right. I want him to bring me my favorite soup when I'm sick. I want to feel safe in his arms.
I want a guy who will love me more then anybody or anything in the world because I will sure as hell love him more then anybody or anything in the world.
♥. "

More doughnuts. More blargen.

``SPEED You never saw her since she was deformed.``
``VALENTINE How long hath she been deformed?
``SPEED Ever since you loved her.``
``VALENTINE I have loved her ever since I saw her; and still I see her beautiful.``
``SPEED If you love her, you cannot see her.``
``VALENTINE Why?``
``SPEED Because Love is blind. O, that you had mine eyes;or your own eyes had the lights they were wont to have when you chid at Sir Proteus for going ungartered!``
``VALENTINE What should I see then?``
``SPEED Your own present folly and her passing deformity:for he, being in love, could not see to garter hishose, and you, being in love, cannot see to put on your hose.``
``VALENTINE Belike, boy, then, you are in love; for lastmorning you could not see to wipe my shoes.``

Doughnuts and blargen

Two Gentleman of Verona is actually a fairly decent play, once I understood what was going on.

Shawn Colvin in the Dark

In the bleak midwinter, stormy wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow on snow.
In the bleak midwinter, long ago.

What can I give him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;
If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part;
What I can I give him?
Give my heart.

Blackness

0 minutes: Light.....and then dark, so dark, nothing exists anymore except for the vibrations of the air reaching my ears. Like ghosts, untraceable, ephemeral.

5 minutes: The darkness is suffocating, the sounds create images so vivid, so interesting. But yet, so terrifying.

9 minutes: The actors have left the stage now, the quiet ensues....for 21 minutes the quiet shal reign

11 minutes: bang, bang, bang The shocks reverberated through the still air. Suitcases? Logs? A boot? I will never know

15 minutes: My head is starting to droop....I don't know how long I can hold on, but I lean back and try to keep going.

20 minutes: I fall asleep. Into a dreamless abyss full of shakespeare and noise. Restful? I think it was, but I never even remember sleeping...

60 minutes: Shake. Thats all I remember feeling. And then, light returned to my world, and I returned to the world.

The Getting Married Getting Sex Factor

Tonight I am watching a random disk from a random season of "Friends". It just happens to be an episode about a couple getting married and both parties (man and woman) are both worried about never having first kisses again and never having sex with anyone else. And now I post the question: "If you feel you're going to want to have sex/love with someone else in the future, then why are you getting married?"

I understand that even when you are married it is ok to find other people attractive and so on, but if you feel you're going to want to act on said attraction in the future then maybe it's time to reevaluate your relationship. Holy run on sentence! But in all honesty if that is how you feel, maybe take a step back and look at the bigger picture. Are you really okay with being with one person for the rest of your life. If not STOP! Stop and make sure that you're okay with the fact that you might end your relationship one day. If you are okay with this, PROCEED.

All in all, it's just a matter of knowing yourself (in my opinion). If you know that you can be completely committed to one person for life (or long period of time) then take the leap. If you're not sure then take a step back for a minute. And once you've decided whether or not you can be committed, stop and think if you're future love can be. But that's an entirely different situation for a different day. This has been another issue of "Many of You Will Disagree But I Don't Give A Shit So Suck It Up" magazine. Enjoy the opinions.

Only Skin

All my bones, they are gone, gone, gone
Take my bones, I don't need none
Cold, cold cupboard, Lord, nothing to chew on!
Suck all day on a cherry stone

Dig a little hole, not three inches round
Spit your pit in the hole in the ground
Weep upon the spot for the straving of me!
Till up grow a fine young cherry tree

Well when the boughs break, what'll you make for me?
A little willow cabin to rest on your knee
What'll I do with a trinket such as this?
Think of your woman, who's gone to the West

But I'm starving and frezing in my measly old bed!
Then I'll crawl across the salt-flats to stroke your sweet head
Come across the desert with no shoes on!
I love you truly, or i love no-one

-Joanna Newsom

Only Skin

But I took my fishing pole (fearing your fever)
Down to the swimming hole, where there grows a bitter herb
That blooms but one day a year by the riverside- I'd bring it here:
Apply it gently, to the love you've lent me

While the river was twisting and braiding, the bait bobbed,
And the string sobbed as it cut through the hustling breeze
And I watched how the water was kneading so neatly
Gone treacly
Nearly slowed to a stop in this heat
- Frenzy coiling fresh along the muscles beneath

Press on me: we are restless things
Webs of seaweed are swaddling
You call upon the dusk
Of the musk of a squid
Shot full of ink, unitl you sink in to your crib

Rowing along, among the reeds, among the rushes
I heard your song, before my heart had time to hush it!
Smell of a stone fruit being cut, and being opened
Smell of a low, and of a lazy cinder smoking

And when the fire moves away
Fire moves away, son
Why would you say
I am the last one?

Scrape your knee; it's only skin
Makes the sound of violins
When you cut my hair, and leave the birds the trimmings
I am the happiest woman among all women

-Joanna Newsom

Dear Nephew

Dear nephew,

you are truly amazing. Not only adorable and funny, but intelligent and a true savior. You are the person I hang out with when I am upset or need to talk to (well and your mother). You save me from going mentally insane and you bring fun and joy to my days.

"Little fire" could not be more correct! You are going to grow into one trouble making firecracker just like your parents. And I can't wait to see you grow into the amazing person you'll be. You have a drive in you that I saw the first time I met you. You're always discovering and learning and adventuring. You're living, what may seem to be a small and simple life, but you are living a courageous and breathtaking life. You're taking steps to an amazing and beautiful world that will bring you sadness, joy, disappointment, and wonderment.

I want you to know that I am always here to talk to, to yell to, to cry to, to laugh with and to share with. Your mother saved me from many things in my days and I'm here to do the same if you need me.

You are going to make one amazing man one day. Love ya buddy!

Acting Curiously

This last week I have had twenty two people in my life ask me what is wrong and what is going on. To them I replied and still reply, "I am fine." I promise to all that I am well and not mentally pressured or concerned. Things are just changing. And contrary to popular belief, not in a bad way.

The last month has been one of enlightenment and self understanding. This has cause me to act out (apparently) in strange ways. For example, I have been less of my talkative overly enthusiastic self. Some of the changes are permanent and large, but most are small and may not be permanent.

So to my friends, thank you for caring, but I am not going insane =P. Now if you'll excuse me, I must go blog about my nephew.

Oh hush thee my baby

The night is behind us

And black are the waters that sparkled so green

The moon or the cold looks downward to find

At rest in the hollow that wrestle between

Where pillow meet pillow

Then soft be thy prayer

A weary beat flipper

Is curled at thy knees

The storm shall not wake thee

Nor shark overtake thee

Asleep in the arms of this slow swinging sea

Where pillow meet pillow

Then soft be thy prayer

A weary beat flipper

Is curled at thy knees

The storm shall not wake thee

Nor shark overtake thee

I am going to hang up string lights in my livingroom, and then come upstairs and listen to more Francoise Hardy. Because listening to Francoise Hardy is like feeding my soul the healthiest and most delicious meal in the world

Boys, boys, boys.

"we liiake boys in caarrrsss".






labels.

With Rhianna and really big indents. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pa14VNsdSYM

It's kind of terrible, when you meet someone you genuinely like, and they appear to genuinely like you, and you can actually engage in conversation, and laugh. It's kind of terrible, because they want to go to a karaoke bar with you, but you can't, and they have long wavy hair and an actual fucking beard, and awesome blue eyes, but they just got back from a vacation to Mexico with their girlfriend and they caught you vomiting all over the bathroom. So instead they pat you on the head and leave. And I go watch 2001: A Space Odyssey and hot glue things like a crazy person.

Primary

This blog is primarily viewed by Mac users. I feel so proud and futuristic. Today was a sick day, for me. I feel rather put out about it, as I was supposed to be attending a harry potter athon. but I've decided it was my body telling my mind that I can't do everything. Which is what I have been doing. Tomorrow, a concert, sunday crafts and coffee and makeup thing at the bay. I need a black skirt. Fledermaus and I share that love of the dark that adults despise. Their wisdom has taught them to be fearful of darkness, because of things associated with it. I've found that when people are scared of the dark, it's not really the dark their scared of. I ate dinner tonight with my ma and pa, we watched the hockey game on mute and talked about Freud. the salad had strawberries and avocados in it, and there was hummus to dip the sweet potato fries into. It was nice. In fact it would have been perfect if my hair wasn't greasy. I think I take my parents for granted. I always assumed everyone loved their parents as much as I love mine. That everyone's parents are reassuring and love each other, and are supportive of their child. I guess I came to the conclusion, today, that I was wrong. But right now the sky is the colour of my bedroom walls. It's middle of November, and yet the world's not quite white. I can still wear my maryjanes. I think that's all a girl can really ask of the world. for simple pleasures like strawberries, avocados, bedroom walls the colour of the sky, and maryjanes.

Dark

Dreary. I am not allowed to go out at night.

Dystopian strangers are ruining existence for us Utopian derangers. I am not as prejudiced against the dark as those older than me. Older people, who I feel inclined to listen to, are hopelessly afraid of the dark and the things that lurk in it. Thay are afraid that I will fall prey to those that dwell in darkness, at 5:47. But I am what lurks in the dark. And I am kept from fulfilling my promising destiny as a night-walker by the threat of psychos and perverts who also enjoy the dark.

Oh... that's funny. I didn't mean it like that, you understand.

A Streetcar Named Desire made me cry. Why will no one help out the Blanche Du Boiss of the world? Juno made me wise.

A Kraken from the sea... I understand.

Attempting to be really deep for three sentences....cause its way easier than three paragraphs

You never know when all this is going to go away. In an instant, the life you have can leave you. So live in the moment, you won't regret it.

I'm going to attempt to be really deep for three paragraphs.

It's amazing how being in the dark can make you think. Being in the dark with one single purpose and having that purpose echoed all around you, can really make you reflect on everything that's important in life simultaneously, and you don't even realize until afterwards.

Reflect on how the little things, like who you like, and what people think of you, are so tiny and insignificant and won't seem so very important years from now
How you are surrounded with so many people who love you, and how special that is, and how you wish you could just hold onto them forever... a perfect snapshot that lasts into infinity.
People like that are the ones I'm going to remember. And all the good that's attached to them will be held onto, while all the bad just fades away and the past begins to wear a warm glow.
Like Christmas. It's not the feelings on the day that are important, it's the feelings that become attached to the day along the line. The kind of feelings you only get from memories and anticipation.
Just like Christmas.

And the music flows through you like a constant breath. It just goes and goes without your even thinking. It all gets lost in the moment. And everything can just be. It's just you and the music and the dark, with all the little epiphanies swirling around in between.

Anyway, that's why I like being in the dark.

Horoscope

"Your feelings run hot now, and you are more likely to act on instinct, emotion, and impulse rather than reason.
Your responses to life are passionate, and also more natural, childlike, and direct.
High spirited physical play, lovemaking, or any activity that really involves you emotionally (such as a rock concert, a rousing football game, etc.) will be very gratifying to you now."

Ugh. Well, that just kinda ruined my plans....

The Little Swiss Wood Carver

Last night, I started reading 'The Little Swiss Wood Carver', which is a childrens book, but also a novel, and the paper is all milky and soft and it smells delicious. Anyways, the story is about a father and son living in Switzerland, and the father is a famous wood carver known all over for his exquisite art. Seppi (the son) desperately wants to learn how to carve like his father, but has to tend to the goat herd because the father is too busy. What is more, Seppi really really wants to climb the mountains, but he can't, because as I said, he has to tend to the goat herd and take them around to all the alps to let them graze (alps are actually like oasis' in Switzerland, general grassy areas sourrounded by mountain and rock, which is something I really didn't know). I didn't finish it, because I didn't have time, and I left it at my mom's house to I probably won't finish it until next week but it was so nice to just melt in to Seppi's life and troubles. I wish I could herd goats all day and be sourrounded by the mountains.

something

Once upon a time, long ago, in a parallel universe there was a small village by a river. The river was everything to these towns people. They all loved the water, and it was good for them. The water was fresh and clear. No one in this town ever ventured beyond the towns limits, scared of what they would find. Everyone was content with the peacefulness and grace that the river submerged the town in. One day the town changed, a hatred started to seep into the town and the river began to run dry. There was only one little girl, of 9 that did not feel this hatred fill her very being. She had been told to never leave the town, but as a mighty smart 9 year old, though that it was is her best interest for her and the town to seek help beyond the town wall. She packed a little water, all she could muster from the rivers non existent river supply.
As she stepped out from the limits of the town she felt cold air waft to her, icicles were hanging on the trees and everything was white, it was a beautiful sight, though there was an unmistakable malicious feeling to the air. As the little girl walked on and on, the cruel feeling got stronger, until she came to a large ice palace. She was worried to go inside, but still thinking about her pour perishing town ventured inside, hoping, praying that some one could help her.
Upon her entering the ice palace she was greeted by a woman, not earthly but cold and terrible. She was suspended, above every one. She was wearing a dress of ice, and had frigid blond hair, with piercing blue eyes. The little girl tried backed away but was in this ice witches command.
She worked for the witch for many days and many nights fearing her all along. She felt sorry for her town by the un-flowing river, though could not break off from the witches spell. One day she stopped fearing the witch because she figured out that the witch was relying on her. As soon as she came to this conclusion the witch vanished along with the hatred and cold.
She joyfully ran back to the village where the river was running again, with clean pure water, and the villagers were tranquil once again.

Inspired by Sycorax

Find me a good pair of socks. The indestructible jug-heads of garments, hand knit out of angora cat fur, humanly harvested. I want socks that can withstand the muddy-fungi-abounding days of spring, the rough-rocky-stove-top sidewalks of summer, the uncertainty of autumn, the blustering violence of a freeze thaw cycle mid-December. They must be 1 cm thick. They must be red as poppies.
Now close your eyes and imagine an alternate universe. It is a shallow world, barely a foot deep, three feet tall, four feet wide. Pencils write by themselves. Pictures change colour based on age and mood. Piranhas are pariahs. Pill bugs procreate at private poker parties. And we are all but featureless sock puppets. Penny for you thoughts? A penny will go a lot farther in the general state of this dimension's economy.

Sycorax is a pair of knee-high stockings. Striped bright butter and pastel yellow, perfectly intact, cheerful as daisies. They are enchanting, flattering, grass stained. Tall, tall, tall for long legs.

Lupus embodies a teal pair of hand-knit wispy woolies. Good for licorice tea, and linoleum skating.

Goat wears sandals, like a messiah of the desert-lands. If it is REALLY cold, a pair of grizzled gray socks magically appears under them.

Pokémaster is a SOCK MONKEY.

Falco, the socks you are are green, paper thin, and have glow in the dark lizards on them. You illuminate the world WITH SCIENCE.

Paper Crane, you are a rare pair knit out of the moss fibers that grow on the backs of slothes in the amazonian rain-forest. Wow, that's cool, and you smell like heavy spring rain.

Dude you're gay... I'm certain you're the netted stockings that are modeled by a certain sweet transvestite...

nomes in hush puppy heel socks. Navy blue, tiny, dotted with stars. Bells on the toes, add tintinnabulation a gypsy dance.

Tanasha Hryvnya manifests a foundation lumberjack sock. Super stylish, plaid, hidden under

those steel toed troopers.

Public Image

Windmills were the devil’s implements,

Because they were newfangled.

Work done not by the hand of man

But by machine.

Machines that run and walk

And create black breath

In the industrial fires of hell.

Those millers:

Dishonest, wicked, wretched

Tools of mass destruction.

Limpid waters slowing to

Obey the water wheel.

Mills were pinnacles of evil.

Pawn shops, tax collectors, lawyers,

Eventually stock brokers.

Those suspicious occupations

Then the devil became the executive,

He executed things.

He signed his name and

Sent the orders out, carrying

The future in his-

Because of course it’s a man of quality-

Perfectly manicured hand.

Let’s tear down the rainforests.

Those toads and spider monkeys

And monkey spiders

Are doing entirely too much exhaling.

All that exotic breath is ruining the planet.

Scritch, scratch,

Name is signed not in blood

But in black Indian ink.

The millers,

Hold picket signs aloft

Shout their quarrel with fire in their bellies.

Spiritually uppity, redeemed assembly lines

Trying to be saints.

The Silent Ones

Sandless are the beaches

Soulless are the waves

The light is dimming on this open field

Trapped are the people

We're waiting to be saved

Age and governance rule our thoughts

They've torn the books apart

No more time left in this melting pot

Sandless remain the shores

Not much going for you when your feet can't leave the floor

This library is cold

Lacking dust and books of meaning

No organized chaos

No stacks along the wall

Just a complicated filing system

You may expect me to rhyme

But I'm afraid you're wasting your time

This place holds no inspiration, no magic to be found

I get lost here, my mind stays behind

I shouting to the books, waiting to be found

I suppose for now my feet wont leave the ground

Agh, kids these days.

You guys are all really good at coming up with awesomecrap to....relate everyone to. I think I may have to try it. Try it and fail. Like me, trying to pwn n00bs in floor hockey. Sometimes it works, but sometimes it's all kinds of wrong.

PAPAAHH CRAANNNEEEE: Yous bees a..... No, not "a", you are a beautiful ballad, that's all soft and mellow at the beginning, but then turns uber hardcore and AWESOMETABULOUS.

Yo, you, with the face. Gay boy. Yous bees aaaaaa.... A dolphin. Because you can understand humans, but much prefer to be under the beautiful blue water where you can break out some epic break dance under-the-water moves.

Sycorax, yous bees.... A sixteenth note. People who don't really understand what they're singing, just get lost when they're in your presence. You're like a swat team. They're in and then they're out....BUT you're music...not law enforcement...or maybe you're both...

nomes, yous bees... A French Doll. C'est vrai, mon ami.

Goat, yous bees... A harp. REALLY HARD TO FIGURE OUT. REALLY AMAZING ONCE YOU DO.

Lupus, yous bees... A PUDDY TAT. teeheehee, You are pretty grey tabby, with GREEN EEYYEESS.

Tanasha, yous bees a Japanimation superhero. Minus the spandex.... Or maybe you'd like the spandex.....

Falco, yous bees.... Lady Gaga's Second Assistant. Or A Time Traveler.

Fledermaus, yous bees...Blue roses. Odd.

HAHAHA, just kidding. You're an ESPEON. Fo sho.

Cars and other monsters

Can you find me a yellow car? One with pillows, and loose safety features. One that smells like moth balls and vanilla? One that splutters and spits but will always start if you're patient?

I wish people were more like cars.
And in a way, I guess they kind of are. They're horrible for the environment, they have little mechanical quirks that make them unique, they can be covered in paint, and accessories and look completely set apart from the rest, or they can look exactly the same as the one beside it.
They can age gracefully with care, or not so gracefully with neglect.
And they all eventually run out of steam.

Goat is like a big old Volkswagen Vanagon. With mismatched curtains on the back windows, and a big shag rug in the back seat. It is absolutely essential for any adventure, and is the epitome of the old style hippy machine.

Tanasha is a jeep. Big, clunky, and kinda lookin like a badass. There is no other thing you would want with you if you found yourself trapped in the jungle surrounded by angry tigers.

Nomes is a mini cooper. Cute and bubbly, and looks the best in hot weather.

"dude, you're gay" is a ferrari. So damn hot, that all it has to do is exist, and every guy will want to buy it, if only for a chance to ride it around the block and call it their own.

Lupus is a mini van. It seems small, and docile, and unassuming. But it can fit a hell of a lot on the inside.

Falco is a 1950s Oldsmobile. It may have gone through a rough ride in it's time, but it's toughed it out over the years and has come out all the more impressive for it.

Paper Crane is a vespa. What else could you imagine spending a bout on the greek isles with?

Fledermaus is a Nissan Cube. You can't help wondering what the heck it's supposed to be, but it's so unique that it could be awesome doing anything.

And Pokémaster is a tricycle. Cause anybody looks good in a nice car, but it takes somebody truly amazing to rock out the tricycle.

And me... well... I guess I'm a school bus. I'll get you where you need to go and home again.

Day of mist: day of tarnish

with hands
unserviceable, I wait
for the milk van

the one-eared cat
laps its gray paw

and the coal fire burns

outside, the little hedge leaves are
becoming quite yellow
a milk-film blurs
the empty bottles on the windowsill

no glory descends

two water drops poise
on the arched green
stem of my neighbor's rose bush

o bent bow of thorns

the cat unsheathes its claws
the world turns

today
today I will not
disenchant my twelve black-gowned examiners
or bunch my fist
in the wind's sneer.

- Sylvia Plath, 1956

friendship is rather like bread.

Soup.

Love meeeeeeeeeeeeee. But not reeeaalllllyyyyyy.

Ew. soup. It's cold now, because I waited too long for it to cool so I wouldn't BURN MAHSEELLFF. I apparently butcher myself, according to a person I dont care about....justkidding. heeheehee.

...We would sing and dance around... because we know we can't be found! I'd like to be under the sea in an octopus' garden in the shade...

Uugghhh. Purple. :D

WOW this whole thing sound really suggestive, but I think I'll keep it because it's about gym class XD

Gypsies

I wish I were a Gypsy, living in Romania, or France though not those who are being kicked out because countries in the EU not wanting to deal with their nomad-ness.
Another ballad:
There were three gypsies a come to my door
And downstairs ran this lady, O!
One sang high and another sang low
And the other sang bonny, bonny, Biscay, O!

Then she pulled off her silk finished gown
And put on hose of leather, O!
The ragged, ragged, rags about our door
She's gone with the raggle taggle gypsies, O!

It was late last night, when my lord came home
Enquiring for his a-lady, O!
The servants said, on every hand
She's gone with the raggle taggle gypsies, O!

O saddle to me my milk-white steed
Go and fetch me my pony, O!
That I may ride and seek my bride
Who is gone with the raggle taggle gypsies, O!

O he rode high and he rode low
He rode through woods and copses too
Until he came to an open field
And there he espied his a-lady, O!

What makes you leave your house and land?
What makes you leave your money, O?
What makes you leave your new wedded lord?
To go with the raggle taggle gypsies, O!

What care I for my house and my land?
What care I for my money, O?
What care I for my new wedded lord?
I'm off with the raggle taggle gypsies, O!

Last night you slept on a goose-feather bed
With the sheet turned down so bravely, O!
And to-night you'll sleep in a cold open field
Along with the raggle taggle gypsies, O!

What care I for a goose-feather bed?
With the sheet turned down so bravely, O!
For to-night I shall sleep in a cold o

King Of Anything

"Who cares if you disagree? You are not me. Who made you king of anything? So you dare tell me who to be? Who died, and made you king of anything?"

We are all entitled to our own opinions. Yet people still feel the need to pass judgement on what you say or think about something. Well FUCK THEM! If I were encountered with disrespect because of my opinions, I'd tell the "disrespectee" my opinion on them. At least I'd have the balls to tell the person my issue with them up front and not by bringing down their opinions.

There's an entire world of possibilities out there just waiting for each and every one of us who are willing. I will not sit back and let someone blind me from that world by telling me I can't do something. I know someone who had a dream, a dream that her own mother told her she would never achieve. Because of her mother she let go of the dream. She was lucky though; as time went on and she began to dream new dreams, she ignored her mother's opinions and is now in the process of fulfilling them.

You are in control. You matter. Your dreams matter. Take charge.

Guess What? Time for Another Story

Story time, this time I'll try to be more imaginative, which I doubt will happen because my thoughts all end up in the same place: out of my mushy brain, I was going for something else right there but it didn't happen. oops. Today I was told that I am like rosemary, maybe it's my love of cooking that brought people to this conclusion, though I think I like thyme better, just the word reminds me of pretty things and long summer days eating brie in parks. Also it reminds me of ballads I used to sing as a kid when life was simple and straight forward and you didn't have internal mind debates in your brain that make your eyeballs feel like they are gonna pop out of your head, but you all know the ballad? Are you going to Scarborough fair. Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme. Remember me to one who lives there. Who once was a true love of mine.

I was once baby sitting and they had this song book that I grew up with sitting on their piano. I was bored and waiting for them to get back, and flipped through all of ballads (they are all together) and I knew all of them, and mostly they were all about the same thing; true love dying. It would appear that that is the style of the English, Irish songs, but I think it says something about our culture as a whole.
ooh remember that one song:

In Scarlet town where I was born
There was a fair maid dwelling
And every youth cried well away
For her name was Barbara Allen

Twas in the merry month of May
The green buds were a swelling
Sweet William on his deathbed lay
For the love of Barbara Allen

He sent a servant unto her
To the place she was dwelling
Saying you must come to his deathbed now
If your name be Barbara Allen

Slowly slowly got she up
Slowly slowly she came nigh him
And the only words to him she said
Young man I think you're dying

As she was walking oer the fields
She heard the death bell knelling
And every stroke it seemed to say
Hardhearted Barbara Allen

Oh mother mother make my bed
Make it long and make it narrow
Sweet William died for me today
I'll die for him tomorrow

They buried her in the old churchyard
They buried him beside her
And from his grave grew a red red rose
From her grave a briar

They grew and grew to the steeple top
Till they could grow no higher
And there they twined in a true love's knot
Red rose around briar

oh, how love prevails. I don't believe in soul mates but it does give me happiness that sometimes others do.
I was supposed to write a story, not some shitty angst heap with a rose growing out of it.
So a story.
uhhhhh
Once upon a time there was a beautiful woman who the whole community adored and was the town's princess. Most of the men pinned after her, and all the women wished they were her. Though even though they were jealous of her no one could hate her because she was so kind and smart. Among these "fans" lets call them, was one lonely girl who disliked this woman, on the sole reason that this woman did not pay attention to her like she did others.

to be continued? I guess???

Nomes

Finger Puppets AVEC GODZILLA

Fledermaus and I are here and we're watching Godzilla for our French project, but we're not really paying attention. She and I are having our finger puppets make finger puppet love and making fun of the Americans in the film, and being jealous of the hot Asians.

I, as we speak, have a pirate, a King and queen frog, and two kittys on my fingers. YAY FOR PUPPETS :D She has....a dragon. And We made Godzilla his cousin, ROD.

ROD IS GODZILLA, GODZILLA IS ROD. JASPER, HOW IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY..Oh nevermind, Im done with you. Fledermaus and I are also talking about dreams that we've had in which we make out with random people. Hooray. I just really love these pants. And how ridiculous this movie is.

Hi, this is Fledermaus. Pokémaster told me to just write it like she would. So I'm going to try. I've already butchered her identity. oh well. There's a head banging mermaid on Pokémaster's finger and she is in a cliche relationship with a stripy pirate who lives over on the index finger ("OH THE THINGS WE DO FOR MERMAID LOVE"). Plus there are a couple of siamese kittys and a polygamist moose. Together they are the citizens of Tokoyo! The Dragon on my finger WON"T SHUT UP! He's all "Awww, look at ROD . He thinks he's all that. That is totally photo shopped man, I mean, that kid is tiny. I have pictures to prove it. Back me up froggies."

The froggies, his cousins, say "Yeh. ROD is puny. I'm taller than ROD fer cry'n out loud."

The citizens of Tokyo are plagued by MOLTEN HOT WATER. It'll cook you ALIVE. And it's a major contributer to global warming.

This is my first time posting here….oh the pressure.

These people you see Around me, They are amazing, but I believe that their literary talent far eclipses mine, especially that of Fledermaus (who has a magnificent name). But, I believe I shal talk about my life, since it is a topic I seem to know the most about. You see, I was born in a winter of ice and snow. A winter where, coincidentally, Paper Crane was also born. It was very cold (when is it not) and probably unpleasant, but its good I got that over with way back when I can't remember any details. Anyways, where was I. Oh yes, winter of ice and snow. So after this winter I grew a little bit, then a lot, then a little, then lots more, and this trend continued on until present. There, my life in but a few sentences, which make it seem like I was far to little for far to long, oh well.

Numbah 40

Well, we got to 40, guys. and October isn't even over yet. I CALL 50TH POST.

I feel like writing something with meaning instead of talking about pokemon and random crap in short bursts of....mastery. So, here I go.

YOU ARE GETTING SLEEPY.
VERY SLEEPY.
CLEAR YOUR MIND OF ALL THOUGHTS EXCEPT THE SOUUUNNDD OF MY...TYPING!!!
Sleepy yet?
Kay, fine. that'll have to do.

Iz Gotz me a ROSERADE. Oh crap.....Pokemon....

Eggs and Hills and Bipolar Weather

Sometimes I feel like crying for no reason. It's such a weird feeling... being so overwhelmed with emotion... but you really have no emotion to be overwhelmed with. It's as if your body's just like "you know what? I'm gonna make you gross and snot drippy and take away your ability to communicate coherently for no reason whatsoever"
It's like snow that lasts for three days. It's supposed to be warmer this week. I feel like the weather is just taunting me. It takes away all the anticipation and finally snows, making everything beautiful and quiet... and then decides to make everything wet and brown the next day. No point.
Stupid weather.
Alberta is supposed to have the second best weather in Canada.... but at least all the other provinces are consistent in their bad weather (or good, in the case of British Columbia)
Oh well, it certainly makes life more interesting.
Not like wanting to cry for no reason, that just makes you feel sort of pathetic... and wet...
Sigh...
Such is life.
Life is such.
I feel like I need to say something all deep and meaningful now... but all I can think about is that I'm alone in the house, and despite the fact that I feel like it should be all peaceful and stuff... it's just kinda giving me the wiggins.
Nobody ever uses that word anymore... wiggins. It's such a fun word too.
However I dislike it's meaning. I don't like having the wiggins.
Crap.
I'll write some happy stuff now.

~

Take my hand?
I'll lead you to a house on a hill.
And we can sit in the middle of the floor and play cat's cradle until the sun goes down.
Then we'll lay down together on the big feather bed and tell each other stories.
And when neither of us can speak anymore, we can close our eyes.
And I'll place my head on your chest and let your heartbeat drive away the monsters.
And we'll sleep and sleep and sleep.
In the morning the light will wake us, punishing us for leaving the windows bare.
I'll make you eggs and toast and tea.
And we'll leave the house together.
We'll roll down the hill.
We'll laugh, and laugh, and laugh until we cry.
And we'll sit there, at the bottom of the hill, laughing and crying and laughing and crying.
And there I'll leave you.
A perfect moment in a perfect dream.
Oh how I wish you'd take my hand.

Gays - It Gets Better

Over the past month, talk about the 9 gay suicides has been spread through school. People are talking about how they're going to help make things better for LGBT people. But just yesterday there was an article about yet another gay suicide.

Joseph Jefferson was a 26 year old gay youth activist and became the 10 gay suicide in a month. Even being a gay youth activist, Jefferson took his own life for being what he wanted people not to be afraid of being. Many video blogs (such as the "it gets better" project) are pushing youth to be who they are and to fight for their beliefs.

Seeing this number rise hurts me. When I found out I was gay, I didn't know what to do, much like many others of my age group. I'm not proud to say that I had thoughts similar to these 10 victims, but I quickly changed my mind when I looked at what the world had to offer me. That was three years ago when I was living in a small, close-minded town. Now I'm going to an arts school where people are accepted and I feel safe and happy being who I am.

So for any of you out there who are scared of being you or considering suicide, I want you to know that it will get better. Find someone to talk to. Someone you're close to or someone you know you can trust. I know from experience that there are always people who care for you. Myself and all the other people making blogs and videos and are fighting for gay rights care for you. You are never alone. Don't take away your chances to be happy. It does get better.

I feel the need to write something, though have no idea what the hell to write about.
That is my out look on life "What the Hell"
Today I was sitting somewhere and realized something: the word or phrase thank you does not hold much value in today's world. Also it's so odd, why can't it be one word? Thankyou as apposed to Thank you. the latter to me seems as you are commanding someone to thank them self's, and that is just odd, though I guess it could come from "I thank you", and shortened, though the people who decided one day to shorten it should have thought of what it ment before they did anything. I bet the were sitting around a table smoking pipes because they were all old gentlemen, because we live in a sexist culture, and were like: " how can we screw up the english language even more?"

That is all for I am sleepy and want to sleep in my cozy bed, I have 3 comforters and 2 knitted blankets because I'm cold. eww it snowed, though by the end of the day I didn't mind it because it smelled like christmas! I love christmas cause that means a good fondue! and me being warm and Manderin oranges. if people wanna get me something I would go for a box of oranges cause I can, and have eaten a whole big box of those in a day... I was somewhat sick after, but had fun. I love those things!
yumm.
I will dream about them.
Nomes.

Lockdown

I'd like to announce that I've read all of your posts. You are not alone. I am here at my computer, slouching slightly in a way I'm sure will bring on incapacitating spinal pain in years to come. I have read your words. How unreal they have made me feel. I could be reading an estranged fiction, but I'm not. You are writing it from the real world, and it makes me think: if you are real then what am I?

A codfish. Only a codfish.

Seriously, now, I am almost convinced that we aren't living in the same world. Somehow you have become squiggles and scribbles, or more accurately, italic type. How have you transitioned so seamlessly from three dimensions into limitless dimensions? Goat jumps on flying turtles. See how NORMAL that sounds, that reads, that tries, that ties, that disappears into my brain.

I've stopped. I've lost feeling in my hands. It is so very chilling underground. I am surprisingly aware of each hair on my head. Some do the electric slide to the tingly music of static. Other secrete oil, or something. I'm sure that there's a beautiful scientific word for that. Is my head getting smaller? Have you ever felt a pang, or a jolt, or a stab and wondered what invisible phantom has inflicted it on you? Ow, my foot.

Damn nose bleed.

Right then. Somedays I put my hair on trees so that birds may make nests out of it. Gross. If anyone is ever murdered under that tree, I will be a suspect. Sad.