IF YOU WANT TO TALK MY THOUGHTS ARE THE POST-ITS ON YOUR WINDSHIELD

I'm writing in my journal again. I forgot how freeing it was to write by hand. Since I practically hang out with my Cookietown friends every single night the only things my hands have been occupying are cigarettes or other substances of indulgence. I like blogging a lot, but journaling is more.... soulful.

On that random note, I Hate Facebook. It's nauseatingly simplistic, wrought with spineless vanity, and is an idle addiction. I mean since when the FUCK do we have to let our friends, family members, and possible one night stands know that we're eating Cheerios at 4 am and that aShlEy or m3g@n "likes this". Jesus Christ, is this really what the humans have come to? Remember when people had that thing called ummmm what is it? oh yeah! SUBSTANCE?! or hey, even I don't know, a LIFE?!

But the kicker is, EVERYBODY has one. Well, except my Mom because she, you know, WORKS. And because EVERYBODY has one and because I suck hard at keeping in touch with people and because I want to know what happens to EVERYBODY, what they're doing, feeling, thinking, going through, and yes, even what kind of cereal their eating. Not really, but you get the picture. All because the world is a sphere of happenings and being someone who has been in several life threatening situations, I want to connect with the humans. Damn it.

This blog post will be longer sometime in the near future.
I'm hungover.
& I "like this".

why errbody gotta hate on smokers?

i think it's bullshit that our campus is going to be "smoke free".
why are they taking away one of my liberties, when they have
done nothing to accomodate smokers in the first place?
they say that smokers are trashing the school, and are smoking too
close to entry ways when really it's because we don't have a
fucking shelter to smoke in. you want to complain about 2nd hand?
give me a gazebo to smoke in like Berea college has in Kentucky.
Those are the only designated places one can go to smoke. I think
if Tech had that then there wouldn't be as many problems but
NO.
i think the only reason why people are even paying attention to
cigarettes is because that's what the current socialist movement
in our country is looking at: how they're getting more expensive,
how much health issues they cause, how this, how that.
who gives a fuck.
honestly, why is it of anyone's concern?
it's personal choice.

i'm still here

Play: Thursday by the Pursuits

... ... ... ...



all is well.
my last final of freshman fall semester is at 3:30.
i opened my diary last night.
there were only a few entries from the beginning
of this year.
it was rather disappointing.
i wish i would have documented my experience
more thoroughly, yet this blog has helped do that
somewhat.
this semester has been a blur.
i feel like August was a million miles away
and i've changed for the better.
i've grown up severely.

it's odd.
everyone thinks that they have a
decent amount of maturity, but then
life happens and you realize you're
not as prepared as you thought.

next semester will be very busy, but
i'll get through it.
i'm just happy i'm staying here.
i thought that I would lose my scholarship
but misinformation is usually the heart
of drama, and i'm in the clear.

my room is in shambles.
there is a pile of clothes that is blockading
the closet, stuffed under the bed with "a shit
ton" of "random" .. well shit.
every surface in the room is covered
with junk.
my closet is a mess of shoes and
shirt and a gigantor guitar case.
i must clean.

tomorrow i am going back to Memphis.
i am excited, but i will miss my Cookeville friends.
i think it will be a good break for us, though, because
we hang out every single day.
that'll have to change come next semester.
i'll be crazybusy.
oh, well.

c'est la vie (that's probably spelled incorrectly..)

out with it

the computer i am on is dying
but i just needed to post this
because i have to write



i have fucked up.
royally.

i am not this person.





i am this person.


i have let down my professors, myself.
but most importantly,
i have let down the one person who has
busted her ass for me -
my mother.

i only hope that things will work out
i want to stay
i need to stay

i am not a fuck up.
i can't be.

5 am self-resolutions & white hot excitement

Is this a good back piece for a tattoo design?



*********************
In other news,
if the fire is still
there.. if there is
still that "can't-eat, can't-sleep,
reach-for-the-stars, over- the-fence,
world-series kind of stuff"
after a long while,
i think we're it.

no snooz & rememberance.

i am awake.
everyone has either passed out
or left.
i took a caffeine pill
i am awakeeeee.
& since i am taking advantage
of not being sick for
the past 8 minutes i want
to make this post creative
and post videos of some of my favorite
scenes from movies.
i want to be a screenplay writer.
i LOVE film.
i want to go to film school or take
a film class one day.

& I Dare Say,

I've been able for the first time in a long, long time..
Walk away from him.
It's alarming that I am letting go with some sort of
torturesque ease.
I thought I couldn't breathe without him.
It's still hard.
I'm making shallow breaths.
That is all.

i hate you.

i don't know what to say.
what happened.
why.
i'm gone.
emotionally and physically
drained
of everything.
i am a particle.
and these are
practicalities.
fuck this.

& don't.come.back...?

Won't Go Home Without You

Maroon 5

Have you ever been in a dark place

it could last

for seconds, days, months.

But if you see through it, you come out?

John and I had an Olsen twin moment.

You know that instant bonding moment

that catapults your friendship to the new

level whether for the good or bad?

conclusion: I hate the vulnerability that

comes with an entanglement of two people

from the past, present, future.

-subnote: this conclusion

alludes to the nameless boy.

Not John lol. John is with Aaron,

remember, Cyberspace?

Play "Shall I Believe" by Sheryl Crow While You Read This.

hometown boys.
let's talk about hometown boys.
they never really leave you, you know.
----------------------------------------

cut to Saturday morning.
4 hrs of sleep, after
laborious games of screwdriverpong
the night/morning before.
it's 9ish
& there is fresh snow on the ground
but it's time to go work at the concession
stands for the speech and debate team.
Great.
Bobby picks Sassy Cat and I up.
we go.
There are too many team members
behind the counter.
We are there for ten minutes.
Miscommunicaton ensues between
me and a team leader. He thought
I was supposed to work the day before.
I told him that I told him the previous Wednesday that I couldn't.
and then tell him that I am sorry and that
I should've been more clear.
He eases up and then tells me to be a
cashier.
I am hungover.
This will not work.
I tell him I'd be too slow.
(This is not true. I have
a mental block with working
with money, because of an
rageful bi-polar ex boss
who was in his mid 20s
and bitter, and who mentally
abused his employees.
It's weird. I'm able to do the work.
I just freeze up and can't. I know it
sounds stupid...)
I'm really surprised I just wrote that.
It's embarrasing.
Anyway, the team leader is infuriated
and tells me to literally go "bye bye."
Asshole.
Anyway, I leave. It's cold and I feel
like crying, because I just can't seem
face my fear. It's hindering. Just as
I'm treking across the parking lot
half-miserable yet half-relieved that
I get to sleep, my phone rings.
Sassy Cat.
My heart sings.
It felt like a scene
straight out of a movie:
there we are in a sea of
people, some top 40
song blasting through the

stadium speakers,
and I tell him to turn around.
I catch up with him.
He didn't want to work
and there was nothing for him
to do, so he came to find me.
So we walk from the stadium
to 4th street throwing snowballs on
the stretch of Willow
then stopping to smoke
cigarettes on the playground.
I tell him thank you over and over.
We watch T.V. at Bobby's,
so drained, for 3hrs then
decide to run errands.
We walk to Sassy's apartment
to get Titus, the ghetto white
Dodge Neon. On the
walk, the sun is shining through
the branches and I hook
my arm in the crook of his
and tell him I want to remember
this experience forever.
He shrugs me off
and says in normal
caveman Sassumslang
"Too much affection."
I laugh. Aaron is gay
and is married to John
who is also part of the
crew and utterly amazing.
We take Titus to Wal-Mart
to replace a tire then get
cigarettes (through a drive thru
window, no doubt!)
that's when I see Illusions and
squeal. I've been wanting to
go inside there for 2 yrs.
We enter. It's a knock off
of Spencer's, yet sells
skateboards and has an
adjacent tattoo parlor.
On a whim, after consulting
my best friend on the phone, I
get my nose pierced.
My piercer is super cool.
He's been piercing for 7 yrs.
When the metal penetrated,
it hurt. My eyes watered
and for a splitsecond I wanted
to cry, but then after a moment
the pain passed. I'm ecstatic.

Sassums Catticus and I
then venture to Dollar General
where I purchase Leroy's
medicene. At Bobby's, I administer
the meds then go to Sassy's.
We chill there for awhile
then go with John to Long John Silver's.
I am tired of spending money, so I
played to coin machine where you try
to get a nickel, quarter, or dime on one
of the ledges for a free side order.
I win hush puppies.
I am elated.
We get in Titus to take the food home
and feast in front of the "demon"/"jabber"box
as John likes to call the television.
During the car ride, my phone
crackles the intro to Beneath the Balcony.
1 New Txt Msg
It is an unrecognizeable phone number.
But it has Memphis area code.
The message says "Whaaatttt Upppp."
It's him. I know it is.
I hope it is.
I say who's this.
It is him.
My first love.
(NOT MY SHITTY EX THAT
I WROTE ABOUT IN AN EARLIER
BLOG!)
I'd been thinking about what
would be of us come Christmas
break. I kept up an inner monologue
throughout the past week about
getting with him. And then this. We
haven't talked in months.
We text for hours
that night.
He wants me.
I am surprised.
I am fulfilled.
We arrive at Johns.
My best friends Jenna, Austin, and
Savannah arrive from
Murfreesboro.
We then go to Bobby's as
he's arrived home.
Everyone comes over.
We get the bright idea to play
screwdriverpong.
Hours pass as the stereo plays
and we are all wasted.
I think I am about to vomit.
I have never thrown up from
alcohol.
I just hate throwing up.
So, I go to the bathroom.
The urge subsides and I lay down.
As I lay down, I bang my head on
the wall or floor...I can't remember.
It hurts. But I lay there for a while.
Then Savannah comes for me.
I arise and go to the couch.
They tell me not to go to sleep
because I may have a concussion.
I sleep.
After proving I don't have one,
we go to Taco Bell and feast in
the car with techno blasting.
It's heaven.
We go to Sassum's
and pass out in the guest bedroom.

My Black Illegitimate Child & Irrelevancy

For someone who has come across shitluck in the past month or so, this week has turned out to be mighty fine :) thank goodness! I hope the spell is broken. I don't have bad days. I have bad weeks.. I feel like myself again, like I was at the beginning of the year. Only more tired and not as enthusiastic. Go adulthood.

I have to go get my cat a new litter box. Correction: Bobby and I have to get OUR cat a new litter box and litter and other crap. We are the estranged parents of a "mildly" retarded kitten. We haven't had a professional diagnosis, but our friends are cruel intellectuals.

We call him our black illegitmate child. Bobby and I act as if we're divorced parents who are good friends. It's odd. He keeps Leroy, yes that is our retarded kitten's name...more on that later, at his ghettofied apartment off of 4th street. Until I get my apartment, Leroy will stay with his father.

Leroy is a small black kitten with huge yellow owl eyes, a tiny face, and fat belly. He has a white diamond on his chest and a big patch of white on his lower belly and white armpit hair. We rescued him from behind John's Peppertree apartment deck and he's been ours ever since...well ever since a month or so ago. He looks like Choco Cat (above) from Hello Kitty. So I named him Choco Cat or Choco for short. Bobby named him Leroy. We combined the two names ungracefully in compromise: Leroy Choco the Third. Lame. And so the name Leroy stuck. Oh well.

We think Leroy is sick though :( So we have to find a cheap vet and take him soon. Otherwise he may not be able to live at our friend John's house since Bobby's moving in and John has a cat named Remus who's healthy and may catch whatever Leroy has. I think he has worms. :( And those can kill kitties, so yeah, gotta do that soon!

....

I started writing this blog earlier and now I am back from Wal-Mart with Bobby.

I bought a cat tent.

Yes, a pop-up cat tent.

And when I was in Memphis at Target, I bought Leroy a black hoodie that says Bah Humbug.

These items are precious and cheap.

Hoorah!

Well, now I am off to go do cat toilet maintenance.

Boo.

Soundtrack of My Life: A Mix Tape

1. Wake Up by The Arcade Fire
This song makes me feel like I've just accomplished
the greatest reward in the world. Every time a perfect
moment occurs in my life, this song is the one that is
roaring in my ears. It's hopeful and utterly inspiring.
It's the song that'll be in my head when I die and transform.

2. Lazy Eye by Silversun Pickups
This song is a car stereo necessity. It's an "I'm embarking
on an adventure" kinda song. Very upbeat and bizarre.. like me on
a good day.

3. Pretty Girl from Cedar Lane by The Avett Brothers
First and foremost, The Avett Brothers are one of my all time
favorite bands. And what's awesome about this song is
that I feel like it's written about my experiences with
some oddball guys. But what's even better
is that when I was kid I grew up on Cedar Lane. :)

4. Good Enough by Evanescence
Evanescence has been my favorite band from the 6th grade
to the 10th grade. They're still one of my all-time faves as well.
This song describes my perfect love and how I'd express myself.
It's like she wrote it for me.

5. Change by The Deftones
This song has been the anthem for my tumultous
friendships I've had over the recent years. It's
perfectly angry and honest and asserting. I love it!

6. The Sea & the Rhythm by Iron & Wine, also Beneath the Balcony
These songs are so sensual, sweet, spiritual, and quiet.
I love to do art while listening to them, or just close my
eyes and relax with my iPod.

7. In the Throes by Liz Durrett
This song was my anthem during a very very depressing
time in my life when me and my best friend got grounded
over the summer. Long story.

8. Happy Christmas (War is Over) by John Lennon
Every christmas my mom's side of the family gets
wasted in a sleepy small town in New Hampshire
and sings this song together as a family. My mother
has six sisters and a brother. It's tradition. I love them.

9. Allman Brothers
Me and my father have found common ground because
of them.

10. Keep Ya Head Up by 2Pac
It's inspiring. His voice is sexy. Period!

11. Anyone Else But You by The Moldy Peaches
I played this to death in my mom's PT Cruiser the day
and months following my first real heartbreak.

12. Tire Swing by Kimya Dawson
Same reason.

There are countless other songs I want to list but that'd take me all night.

& the World makes Sense again (at least for the remainder of this 24 hr period)

so I realize that my blog has been a tad negative in the month of November.
i whole heartedly blame it on the approaching winter and the ending semester.
it seems as if my first semester was a lifetime.
not in that it took forever,
but the fact that i have changed
into a new life form.
hmmm sorry Iron & Wine just began playing.
Awesome.
Go listen to Beneath the Balcony by them.
Right now!
ADD moment over - I am such a happier human being.
Life is so much more meaningful, so much more intricate.
Though, I've experienced a long bout of depression for the
month, I'm getting better. I'm just at the edge of the Hole.
I'm just glad I'm not at the bottom anymore..
I feel an undeserved sense of accomplishment.
I don't feel like I've done well in Andy's class.
I just like to write.
That's been my saving grace through out this whole process.
I don't care if anyone reads this.
I'd rather be honest, than silent.

xxx

in short, this was the most life changing Thanksgiving break ... of my life.
+ I held my God son.
- I got used; got stabbed in the back.
+Life made sense.
- Then it didn't.
+/- People changed,
+ for the best,
- for the fucking worst.
+ We hugged,
- we fought.
+Wars were won,
- bombs were dropped.
+/-The familiarity hurt & helped
The ripples of Change
+/- hit & then passed

+ Life's a snow globe. Shake it up. Observe.



~Deuces~ mother fucker!

Word Vomit.

Rachel Forrest's tone is as simplistic as it is arresting. She creates a comfortable, no bullshit atmosphere that instantly makes the reader trust her judgment. She uses the rhetorical device of cataloging in order to support the easygoing imagery and setting of the Flatbread Company thus creating an appeal to the readers' taste buds. I love how she lists the prices and the majority of the time, is politically correct. Though she is biased as she is a restaurant owner herself, she sits atop the fence line, giving critiques as well as praises.

Craig Outhier is biting, clever, and most of all relevant in Potter Power. His particular choice of weapon is humor, coated in spiteful intelligence. However, his voice borders pretentiousness as he shows off his vocabulary skills whilst bashing the plot in the third installment of Harry Potter.

As an amateur comedian I, like Outhier, enjoy taking an overly commercialized pop culture phenomenon and exposing it for what it really is: A PUBLICITY STUNT.

Some examples would be: Twilight, Miley Cyrus, etc.

Some people would argue that critics are way too harsh, but honestly, if people didn't make fun of shit, or point out its flaws, then we would have no idea what precident the standard of good would fall upon.

meaningful relationships + stress + grades = college.

my stomach cringes
from stress. i have
a lot on my plate, but
thankfully, after this
weekend my stress
level should drop
drastically.
this weekend,
i'm competing at
Carson Newman.
i'm acting out a
story of an abusive
father and his daughter
with a friend.
i don't want to screw
it up for him. i'm still memorizing
my lines.
i'm the secretary and also
team member for the TTU
Speech and Debate team.
it's time consuming and
hard work.
but i absolutely love it.

i think i may change my
major to journalism.
part of me wants to teach,
but a bigger part of me wants
to write.
if i could write for a living,
even if it was shit freelance
i'd be golden.

i feel like little things are
falling apart.
i feel like a fuckup.
everyone i know is
getting depressed.
i blame it on the
early winter.

whatever happens,
i'll be okay.

scrambled eggs at midnight, i'll leave the lights on for you.

you're still in the boxcar.
but not with me.
can't say i'm not surprised.
this type of thing happens
all the time.
delusional
unusual
dreamer of
dreams
unseen
stay clean
don't stray
but at the
end of the
day
when
everything
is finished
and packed
i've stacked
my desires
on the shelf
in the attic
where i scream
in the static
until all our
words fade
with dusk.

so, i'm a huge believer in the law of attraction.
what you fear you create is all too true.

love.
it's weird, and fleeting, and unfair.
it's the best drug on the market.

i'm stubborn, because there is still a trace.
a small voice that won't let me relinquish
you. i can't help it.

Things I Hate: Currently & Forever!!

The nonexistence of love like in the movies.
The Snowball effect.
Hostility.
Ignorance.
The American mentality.
Stress.
Unmet goals.
Pale ale.
Mixed signals.
(more later...)

Screaming into Static, "That Chicken Sandwich is Orgasmic!"

As I venture down the rabbit hole that is college, I begin to realize something: Christianity Sucks. It's not the religion itself, but the ignorant cesspool that is wrought. Let's face it, no one knows what the fuck they're talking about. Stop trying. Why are you basing your whole life around inconsistent, unreliable information that has been altered over thousands of years?

Anyway, let's talk about the two intake forms. So at first, I thought the church was just being nosy in asking the marital status of a potential client, however it allegedly doesn't have to do with social/religious prejudice, it's really about trying to find out whether the client could be receiving some sort of income through his or her spouse. I learned that interviewing one of the pastors for our project. Thankfully, it shook my bias. Also, the other seemingly irrelevant questions the church poses, such as what the pastor deemed, the client's "personal faith journey", aren't really irrelevant. These questions are helping the church get to know someone. Obviously, certain answers are better and make some clients stand out more, or may be more likely to receive help, but let's face it: the clients chose where they applied for help. if they don't agree with relaying certain information or feel as if it isn't fair, just because they're not Christian then they can choose to go elsewhere. In a perfect world, the compassion of a Christian should be effortless and nonjudgmental. But because we are in the real world, where there are as many types of Christians as there are types of people, this isn't and will never be the case. People are naturally selfish people. It's a survival instinct. We can't change that. We can just channel the aggression through religion and law.

The other intake form kept the questions relevant and concise. It asked information about the financial history of the client, income, etc. All of which pertains to the initial reason the client is there. Not for spiritual counseling or whatever, just "what do you need. what do you have." Simple. It's government funded. We can't afford to save people in the after life.

Meet Joe Blog was pretty interesting.loved the sarcastic tone. right up my alley, obviously. It's pretty cool that what I'm doing right now will be read by not only people I'm in a class with, but also people who don't know me at all. It's like this blog will be a memorial for me in cyberspace until blogger shuts down. Blogs are very much like online diaries. Though it's great to keep things private, I think it's more rewarding to throw caution to the air and let people know why you're still breathing. what i learned from good joe blog, is that what i'm writing is a blip on the screen of media. even though i'm a blip, i'm still part of a greater picture of humanity.

Homeless On Campus makes me feel soooo much more grateful for what I do have. I'm a very down to earth person, but now having a loofah makes me feel like a spoiled bitch.

Glimpses

A few of my best friends from Memphis whom I miss with all
my heart! More pictures coming soon~

In the Names of Wine & Willpower, I Now Pronounce You: College Student

I
need
to
get
my
shit
together.

:(

Gotta Have You by the Weepies Makes You Believe In Love & Unicorns

Have you ever met someone and thought, even really early on in the relationship (and i'm talking any relationship whether dating, just meeting, or friendship) that "Wow, I could be infinitely happy with you." And it all comes so unexpected. It's like everytime you're ready to move on with your life or start a new chapter, someone new jumps into the boxcar you're in and you can't do anything but stare in amazement at the fact that they'd overcome height and speed and metal just to hitch a ride with you, no matter how long the trip.

Dinner Table No-Nos accompanied by Gregory & the Hawk

I feel like "GOD" is so much bigger than a handmedown concept or preconceived notion of "You're not allowed to ______________." Because honestly, if God really hated the gay community, abortion, drugs, excessive alcohol indulgence, tight clothing, and secular anything then why would he put it here? Some people would say, "Oh, Man created it." Who the hell created Man then? I mean, damn. "Oh, well, God put that stuff here so that we can learn to choose him over that stuff." "We can make our plans, but the Lord determines our steps." - Proverbs 16:9. So, what is the end result for all of us? So, before we're born does God get to choose who he wants to go to heaven or hell? What's the point in going through hardship and life if God already determines where we'll end up? I mean, does God ever get surprised? Do we really have free reign over our lives/fate? Is God just a made up being to serve as a security blanket for the masses? What makes Christianity right and every other religion wrong? So if indigenous people never heard of Jesus or God or the Holy Spirit, do they just get sent to hell? "Well, that's why we have missionaries so they can preach the good news to the heathens." So what about the whole "Judge not lest you be judged" mantra. Aren't missionaries essentianlly judging the beliefs that different people hold? Isn't the meaning of judging someone holding an opinion of another person, positive or negative? Isn't judging someone sizing up their flaws and indirectly comparing them to your own walk of life?

I feel like whatever someone believes in, it will happen for them in the afterlife.
But, I'm also scared of the concept of being nothing. No thought or feeling. Just pitchblack, dead silence.

I believe in God, a higher power.

Not Bobblehead God on the dashboard of a Yukon that has a Dubya sticker on the rear windshield which rides the Jesus fish into the pompom/soccer ball/baseball stickers possessed by the 2.5 whitebread children who have names like Mary Ashley , Sarah Beth, and John Luke.

I think the things that we encounter on a daily basis are important and beautiful, because it's the evidence of humanity and we are humanity. I believe that we are all here to learn and to grow and to help one another and to cherish everything.

I hate that we've set up a general, comfortable life plan for one another
1. Education 2. Career/Marriage 3. Procreation

These are just the three basic branches for Society. They have their own set of point value systems depending on if you went to college, if you're salary is comfortable or lavish, who you married to and how's their salary, family, religious beliefs, are you're kids clean, shiny, respectable, and have played soccer.

It just sucks. It's boring and monotonous and unfeeling. It's like the prerequisites to die respectfully.

Feist, the Cold, & Nostalgia

So, it took me nearly a year to stop talking to him. We met on December 22nd or 23rd of last year. I was completely infatuated with being in a relationship and became overly doting and utterly spineless. I wanted to be perfect. We were coming up on our "one month anniversary" (yes, yes. pathetically revolting, but i don't know what else to call it. it's not like we were going to exchange gifts or anything, though. hah.), and then he called me, told me NO. No more us. Game Over. K.O. I was crushed, devasted. I went to school late that morning, because I just couldn't seem to rouse myself to do anything as hellish or monotonous as school. As I was driving, I was crying and playing the Juno soundtrack nonstop, chain smoking. Now, mind you, this was my first relationship. I was clueless and unrealistic about dating, relationships, the male psyche, etc. I'd had a burning desire to have romantic involvement since I was 14 years old. It was like this gnawing need for someone to stand there and tell me all the things I wanted to hear and to desperately believe about myself, something I'd wanted for sooo long was finally here and I was determined to cultivate it, nurture it, for christ's sake milk it so I could prove to my peers around me that yeah, I was wanted. He told me the night he broke up with me that he needed some time to figure things out and that he needed to be single in order to do so. The next night he tells me the truth, he's getting back with his ex.

After a very short time later (can't remember exactly) , we date again. 2 weeks go by. We're at our friend Adam's house and my ex gets a phonecall and goes outside. This wasn't unusual as people were always calling him and the TV was turned up super loud and I figured he'd probably went outside to smoke/talk as well. But then after a few minutes, a small.pleading.demanding voice tells me Go Outside. For the sake of your happiness, go outside! So, I did. He was talking in the front yard. I lit a cigarette making it obvious that I or at least someone was out there, too. My ex couldn't see me as Adam's front walkway is obscured by large hedges. And I hear him say, "I love you and you know I still want to have a chance with you, right?"

I froze. I couldn't process anything. He walked up to me, looked taken aback, then in an aggressively, defensive tone goes, "What?!" I shook my head, looked away. "Whatever," He said then walked inside. I stood outside Adam's bedroom door for about 5 minutes. My ex finally decided to come find me.

"We need to talk," I mustered. So, we went out to his truck.

"Are you mad 'cause I told her I loved her? Because Alyssa, I always will."

"No, Brandon. I understand that. It was the fact that you told her that you still wanted a chance with her."

........His idiotic ramblings & excuses ensue.........

And then, I laid into him. I snapped. I was me again...only ravenous: Opinionated, Engraged, Passionate, Vengeful, Feminist, Cocky, Blunt.

It's like the old me had been lying dormant and finally just imploded.

I demanded my shit back, right then and there. My blanket, the CD I gave him, a lighter I gave him---> (petty, but hey, I was pissed. I didn't want anything that was assosciated with me with him) I threw a condom wrapper at his face and told him to keep the memory, because I wouldn't. (p.s. i'd like to believe that when you're with the wrong person, they are a terrible lay. at least, to you, because you're not supposed to be with be with them and sex is meant to be respected as it is a spirtual, honest connection. (you call it naiveness, i call it optimism)

About 2 months go by without any contact. I was getting better, getting focused. But, still I hurt. It started to fade with time, but slowly.

He called me while I was on the highway, driving to a Speech and Debate tournament. I answered and we talked for a half an hour. We were pleasant, conversational. I cried in the hotel room that night. My mom said it was too soon. I said, I know.

We started talking again. My graduation night, he tried to push me into another relationship. I said No. He pouted and voiced his emoness on Facebook. I can't believe I let this guy see me naked :( ugh! And then I consented, because neither he or myself wanted to be alone for the summer and blah blah blah. We were up and down. One minute, I love you and my feelings are getting stronger for you. The next, yeah we're probably going to break up before I leave for college but at least we acknowledge it and are comfortable with it. Then he'd push me away. I'd push him away. We were bored of each other. I broke up with him two weeks before I left for college and up until this past week talked to him on the phone a few times a week.

I'll say this happened Tues(?). We were talking on the phone and I was giving him advice, encouraging him, as usual.. when he tells me that he doesn't care what I have to say and that all the advice that everyone is telling him is just going through one ear and out the other. I told him that he was obviously looking for advice or at least a reaction to what he was bitching about otherwise he wouldn't always talk about it and that it was pointless for us to speak if he's not even listening. I hung up the phone and finally accepted the fact that I don't matter to him and that's okay. I didn't still talk to him because I had feelings for him. I talked to him because I wanted to help him and to have attention.

I haven't talked to him for days and it feels great. Honestly, I really wouldn't care to ever speak to him again. It's seriously gotten to the point where, the thought of communicating with him repulses me. I was just sick of his involvment in my life and my utter lack of self-respect 'n will power that kept me from ending it light years ago. It's like I've been chronically chewing gum for almost a year and finally got the chance to spit it out. Though, it left a bad taste, dating that rat bastard actually made me who I am today. I feel content and fulfilled and realize that I don't need anybody to feel whole or to feel wanted or to feel important. And above all else, I'm good enough.

Almost Famous, The Weepies, & Roommate Rambling

Ahhhh. It's been awhile since I last saw Almost Famous and I totally covet the screenplay writing and directorial artistry. Damn, I miss good movies. Everything is crap nowadays. As a writer, the story is really inspiring and the plot is equally riveting. The acting was phenominal. Phillip Seymour Hoffman can play virtually any role and Patrick Fugit's face..awww.. Zooey Deschanel has also been a fav as well. Awesome casting. I love how the writers' chose not to create a completely happy ending, well at least on the romance side. It was better and more realistic that way and added way more insight. The progression of the characters was well played. For some reason, I always thought that movies about true events were always the best.

Freewrites, Damien Rice, Hunger

1) i was probably three years old and she brought up a christmas bush and i stared and whined and complained because Dad wasn't home he was away one business and she brough home a christmas bush, not a tree and it was terrible because who the hell doesn't have a christmas three for christmas and in my three year old mind i lookd up at my other and was like what the fuck mom seriously what the fuck so my mother being the doting and caring thing she is goes out and buys the next best thing being as how we were already on the cusp of christmas and going out to get a fresh three would be a pain in the ass she gets a plastic one that you have to asslemble and straighten out the brainches and screw on the limbs and trunk but still to a three year old it was a tree a fucking christmas tree and it was good enough but then we had problems assembling it because my mother's french and teh french don't take the time to read the directions because we alredy know what the hell we're doing and i complained and said that we needed Dad because Dad knows how to fix everything and then his mother an embittered divorcee who broke it off with my grandfather a few short years before pipes up that "We don't need a man" and this sentiment was forever engrained into my premature brain and carried through every heartbreak, crush, break up and bang up between the male species and i and most people question why i am the feminist i am and i blame it on my bitter grandmother who has not yet fullly recovered from the divorce because i don't think it was so much that he didn't love her or want to be with her it was more like he didn't see through and my grandmother ALWAYS completes a task and i also think that to her divorce is looked down upon and only happens to stupid, selfish, and lazy people and if my grandmother hates one thing then it is lazy people so finally we got that damn tree up and the christmas bush was caput and ever since we have always used that damn tree at every christmas because it is artificial and it lasts and its symbolic and it's what christmas is really all about because honestly who the fuck uses a christmas bush and who thinks that a 3 yr old tv extraordinare would ever celebrate with presents under a bush? i love my mother but if we would have kept that bush then she would've robbed me of traditional values, but then my grandmother already did when she instilled in me the feministic viewpoint of embittered girl power and success all because we could figure out how to assemble a plastic tree so even as a 3 yr old i knew that because of pop culture Christmas trees were at least a major tradition/symbol of christmas and that bc my mother fucked up that we would not really be celebrating christmas at all and that we were just halfassing my time to get presents and we weren't celebrating shit

2) it's probably 1998 i am 8 yrs old and i am watching mindlessly the blaring television that is betraying apathetic teenagers who are drowning in the grunge scene and who are bitching about their all too suburban environment and i'm watching the main character Daria who like me is a brunette and whose uncaring attitude and seemingly smart antics makes me wish to be like her at least in high school when i was 8 i used to play high school all the time dressing up and carrying books and meeting up with my boyfriend at the mall calling all my friends to drive around in our limo Yes, that was high school to an 8 yr old and watching the angry apathetic brunette made me all the more attuned to grungy girl power and the independence of being a teenager in high school but really i wasn't understanding the story like most children just watching like a vegetable at the pretty moving pictures and occasionally adopting inappropriate commentary that was being subliminally capsuled into my impressionable mind and then as i am absorbed into this fantasy land of cartoon Daria goes "Damn" which is pretty much the only curse word the show used frequently right as my dad walks in and says Hey, this isn't appropriate and for some reason i have always remembered that moment watching daria not so much the plot of the shows but having my father say that what i was watching was inherently bad and that was such a teenage sceneario that i continued to watch the show in secret because i felt like i was in some secret grown up society where i was allowing myslef to do something that my parents forbid and THAT felt really grown up i was always a tv kid in those days lazing around and watching shows or disney movies or whatever kind of story could be told to me as there was nothing to do as an only child daria was someone cool and untouchable and i felt that if i could watch her i could somehow be like her and be someone who had this whole active adult life going on...at eight years old sometimes i run into to people well beyond the age of 8 who still try to pretend that they have such a great adult life when really, they're just imitating Daria or whoeverelse seems too important to care what's actually going on in the world around them and in some sense Daria may be the more recent Raskolnikov from Crime & Punishment who believes that he is the godlike figure that can take lives and not be ashamed by his murders now i'm not saying Daria is a murderer or anything but she is like that wannabe Napolean in that she portrays the godlike human who doesn't have normal human reactions to the society around them Daria was an apathetic teenager who judged the overly stereotypical life around her with a sense of condescendment...that doesn't sound right...the word not the idea anyway it's just a moment of my childhood tv watching experience that has always stuck with me for i think a big subliminal reason

3)Winnie the Pooh was to a 2 year old a freaking genius i was a winnie the pooh kid i had the stuffed animal the movies the apparel just everything and i would watch the movies and shows all the time and caused the death of a few videos because of my avid tv watching
habits what was custom and really legendery to my family now is that i would have my marching ritual at the end of one particualar pooh episode where winnie was stuck in rabbit's hole from eating waaaay too much honey well with the help from the gang pooh was set free and so they had a celebration in each they had a celebratory march well everytime they would march i would toddle upwards and march along with the gang singing in my high pitched voice "hooray for pooh! hooray for pooh!" this would go one for at least a half an hour as i would demand my parents to rewind the part over and over again so i could feel the happiness and the celebration of freeing the beloved fat bear its almost scary to see how people especially young kids become so easily moved at the solution of a problem that is found by strangers or even obese cartoon animals but communicating with them and watching them alone i probably felt as if i was apart of the real thing i think the reason my parents put me in front of the televison so much was that i was such a low energy kid (and pretty much still am depending on the situation) and that i was an only child and that they were working and busy doing other things that the tv was the best baby sitter ever and i don't chastise them for that whatsoever because as a 2 and 3 yr old i established a connection in that i understood how to celebrate happiness at the triumph of someone's problem i'm just happy that i wasn't watching beevis and butthead or south park at the time as i was easily influenced by fictional characters

Memoirs, Soup Secrets, and Trivial Pursuit

The thing that surprises me about memoirs, or really the thing I didn't know about memoirs is that they usually are centered around one singular moment. I used to think that they were overall about the author's life and the experiences he or she has faced.

To me, the concept of one.defining.moment chosen from the mosaic of someone's life and have that one piece speak for the whole, is as amazing as it is disconcerting. Do not tiny, seemingly insignificant moments lead to that one turning point that changes everything?

Excuse me for my overly analytical rambling once again. But on another note, David Sedaris is God. I've loved his work since high school when he wrote about his boyfriend's childhood... or something like that, anyway it was simply amazing. What I love about his work is that he takes normal situations and people, and uses his poignant perspective to bring forth the truth of reality! Right off the bat, the connotations of his title Us and Them already sets up an air of distinction between groups of people, in this case "normal" suburban families vs. unorthodox families. Sedaris uses allusions to further cast distinction between the oddball Tomkeys and the normal TV watching neighbors and classmates. He is as strategic as he is artful using ironic quips such as, "I felt as if my favorite show had been canceled" when he could not spy on the Tomkeys.

As for Susan Jane Gilman's Mick Jagger Wants Me, Susan sets up the differing adjacent environments: the "small, windowless storefront with a small door set in far from the...urine-drenched sidewalk" which exemplifies the theme topics Reality vs. Fantasy. Susan mentions that "most of the time, none of us knew where we were, or who we were with" pertaining to the fantastical, dangerous lifestyle of psychedelic freedom. The whole making-out theory also gives way to the speaker's naive tone while she continues to question the dynamics of Reality. As with the shitty street and the studio, Susie and Michelle are juxtaposed as well, the former being Fantasy and the latter Reality. Susan uses descriptive imagery and a clipped tone when describing the reality of the experience: the desperation of not only the scenery but their obessive actions.

P.S. All of the titles of the memoirs we read for the homework assignment create an atmosphere of cleverness and question, causing the reader to want to find out what the author has to say and therefore creating a relationship of supsense.

I've also noticed that usually the writers of memoirs try to set up situations or use certain wording that instantly connects their thoughts, feelings, and experiences with those that are encountered by the mass majority in order to establish an automatic trust so that the reader feels comfortable in receiving the information bestowed upon them.

Now it is time for class...

Tata!

Cat Slobber on the Keyboard & Findings on Myself

So, I took the personality test and I'm apparently an INFP. So generally, I'm idealistic, loyal to my values and people who are important to me. I want an external life that is congruent with my values. I am also curious, quick to seek possibilites, and am a catalyst for implementing ideas. I try to understand people and help them fulfill their potential. I am adaptable, flexible, and accepting unless a value is threatened.

This is all crazily accurate. Though I already knews these traits of myself, it's pretty weird to see it in black and white or via a quiz on Facebook...

I think there's a part of everyone that believes there is genuinely something unique or special about them or their experiences that hasn't existed or will reign in anyone else. Perhaps this quiz as further proved to me that there are more people like me than I imagined or even wanted to. I guess the old addage, "You're unique; just like everyone else" is the biting Truth after all.

So, I tried to save my results for The Political Compass tests to my favorites but yeah, did not work. I tried to complete it last night but was so tired I stopped halfway through and so I completed it this morning. I rather not take it again, so I'll try my best to recall its results: Left wing Libertarian, this meaning I believe in individualistic prowess & some elements of anarchy. Basically, I'm a few steps from Ghandi.

This is accurate as well. I think that everything needs balance and our values as citizens greatly affect what happens to us. I do believe that we need a government to keep society in check, yet as a society it is our responsibility to choose who are our voices and who makes decisions for us as a whole.

Religious Questions Not to be Asked on a First Date or at the Thanksgiving table:

1. Do you have a spiritual belief or practice? Yes, I do. I am a Non-denominational Christian. I believe that we are here for a divine purpose. I am supportive of gay rights and abortion; just because I am a Christian does not mean that sterotypical ignorances, that are unfortunately associated with Christianity, should ever choose the end results of anyone's personal situations/decisions. I believe in people and the power of prayer. Live, Laugh, Love, and Learn is where it's at.

2. Is belief itself a problem? Depends on what one believes and how it could affect the masses as a whole as well as the individual who is practicing it. As long as it is not destructive, negative, disrespectful, or cataclysmic and if it makes someone feel happy and secure then go for it.

3. How important is tolerance of differing beliefs in regard to this topic? Extremely important. Intolerance and ignorance are my two of my biggest pet peeves. I think that one of our purposes to live is to understand, connect, and help those around us by being as non judgmental as unhumanly possible.

4. Do you believe in a divine being or higher power? I believe in God and Jesus Christ. I also believe in the paranormal and the Unknown.

5. How do you relate to this concept to a higher power? I believe that we are all made in the image of God and that as a follower of Jesus Christ there is a power of love and protection that reigns over me.

6. What is the relationship between the spirtual and physical world? I think that the spiritual world dominates the physical world and that everything in the physical world encompasses spirtuatlity.

7. How important is spirtuality to your personal identity? It is very important. My upbringing and spirituality has molded me into who I am today.

8. What is your attitude to people whose views on spiritual matters differ from your own? It works if your work it.

9. Do you believe your spiritual beliefs continue to change over time or generally stay the same? What is the importance of change or its lack? My spiritual belief has changed in a way that it is more accepting of people and their differences. Change is crucial. It can ultimately break us or make us. Life's biggest lessons are garnered from Change.

Writing on the Facebook Wall, Emo Internet Poetry, and Much More!

I really don't think there was one outstanding moment of my early child or angsty teen years that said, "I should be an artist. No, wait... I should be a writer!" It just always was. Writing came as naturally as watching Rugrats, just turn it on and zone out into another world entirely. Or maybe it is the glaring fact that I am an only child, that I should be predisposed to making up friends. Who knows...

At fourteen I poured my "misunderstood" soul into a website that posts poetry. That was 2005 and four years later I have 333 poems. This has been the one consistent thing in my life, the one thing I've always stuck to and never given up on. I'm scared that one day the site will be shut down and my memories and depiction of my wonder years will be lost to the black hole of cyberspace to make room for a Twilight saga fansite or something equally disastorous.

I kept a diary for awhile, writing whenever the urge was biting and to somehow make sense of social situations that at thirteen, fourteen, and fifteen made the 2nd coming of Christ mere child's play. Since then I lost that spiral pink notebook with the magnificent white horse galloping in brown fields on the cover to the malicious mouth of my messy bedroom.

Upon losing my diary, I found greater salvation: Creative Writing class my sophmore year in high school. My teacher was the perfect image of Writer: apathetic with a discreet IV bag under her desk that intravenously fed her coffee, the stench of cigarettes, always waiting for her "big break"... smoking or non. Harty har har. Anyway, after submitting mediocre poetry, I wrote a prose about a girl's memories of her sister who was moving away. On my paper, she wrote in red pen that i had "it." At the end of class, I asked what "it" was. She told me that I had what couldn't be taught in a writer.

Maybe that actually was my moment mentioned earlier in this post, but from then on I wrote fiction (yet still use poetry religiously.) I have accounts on fanfiction.com and fictionpress.com, the first website for stories using characters from books, video games, television shows, etc. and the second from my own creation. I wrote for the Prism Literary Magazine my sophmore, junior, and senior year. I became the Creative Writing Club President senior year, hosting Open Mic Nites and blah blah blah.

Now mostly my writing consists of journaling, posting poetry on that same ol' site, working on a fictional story of a young drug addict, lurking, posting, and victimizing my friends' Facebook walls, texting, e-mailing, and jotting down endless notes in college. Each of these genres has expanded my writing style into many forms, especially since my audience usually comes down to the known and unknown. And because this medium is electronic and my audience is my English class, I hope that my tone is affecting my stance which is:

Writing is simply who I am and how I get through the day. The End.

p.s. Now how's THAT for relating my history with rhetorical situations? ;)