It's a time of change.
I cleaned my room for hours yesterday, rearranged shit. I feel new. Clean, pure. My mom said it's even cleaner than when I first moved in.
I have a backup plan that is fool-proof if I don't get into my dream college (a much less foolproof plan is attached to that school). I've been making To Do lists, and actually doing them. I've been reading, writing, journaling.
Life is good. I just need a job, and I need my community service (which is the only thing I HAVEN'T done) to just go away.

=]
I feel like I matured so greatly this winter already, I am finally coming into adulthood, and in this moment, the real world almost looks tackleable. But we'll see how I feel in a few hours.

I can not handle to be away from you. I long for that smell, you're such a close talker. I want you, forever, leaning over my shoulder, book marking passages of intrest. You laugh and I am hit with a wave of coffee and chocolate. I pray that the chilled blanket covering the earth will thaw, so we may be close. But alas, I am denied.

Du bist ein merkwuediges und ausgezeichnetes Geschoepf, und du hast mich vollstandig verzaubert.





[[Edit: Never allow yourself you get reallllly stoned and type without thought. See above bullshit.]]

I love nothing more than coming home from my grandparents on christmas, toking it up and listening to lil' wayne and the misfits.
fuck yeah.


waiting for my friend, who's home visiting from college, to get here; then we're attempting to find an open liqour store to stock up on papers and cigs. for a bitchin night.





















[side note: bring your dealer cool shit on holidays, pie on thankgiving, cookies on christmas. They dig it. =) ]

"None of us are saints..."
- Albert Fish: "the Grey Man": "Werewolf of Westeria"

why am I not being creative?
or at least productive?

There's so much more important shit I could be doing. School work, college planning, I have community service to find.



But nah, I'm just gonna lay in bed, watch dumb stoner movies, serial killer documentaries, make lists of books to buy, and smoke a bunch of pot.











that's what winter break is for. =]

Everytime you step near me.
my blood turns to wine.


I'm going to STAR WARS: IN CONCERT tonight, I don't care if you laugh. I was really excited, I mean...think about this; fucking amazing live musicians playing the score, with a bitchin montauge in the back, walking you through the whole saga in a totally new way. The guy who played C3P0 in the movies is going to introduce each segment, and there's a museum exhibit of all these props and shit. I was pumped. But you're going, that's great. it's your birthday.
that's better. But your girlfriend is coming. And therefor, I cannot see you.

I may just shatter if I do.






















I feel like the littlest of little girls.

Writer's Block (n): condition (usually associated with writing as a profession) in which the writer becomes incapable of producing new work. Condition Varies in intensity.


MAKE IT GO AWAY. >:[

Stop making the eyes at me,
I'll stop making the eyes at you.
what it is that suprises me is that I don't really want you to.

It's almost like it's our song, but you don't know it. I catch you looking at me across the class room, is it not just me? Please, just give me a sign, I'm not looking to pursue things, I just can't handle the unknown at this point.
I work so hard, to live up to the imaginary standards you have for me, and I'm happy that we're getting close and you're starting to show me your rough, cynical under-belly. It makes you more human, it's like the blood in your cheeks. You're beautiful when you smile.
How will I handle all thanks giving break with out you? I just want to be at school all the time.















[[Side Note: NaNoWriMo update: hit 40k today. next time you hear from me, I'll be an author..for all intensive purposes]]

Sorry I haven't been posting much (not that I was ever very interesting to start), it's November again, and I don't know what that means to you guys, but for me that means it's NaNoWriMo time again! (National Novel Writing Month, for those that don't know) And with my new classes and all that novelling I've been doing the interwebs have taken a backseat. I just thought I'd take this precious moment of spare time to apologise for my absence and let everyone know I will probably not be posting much through the end of the month, however, I'll have mountains to share when I return.


See you guys in December!

update on all my crazy court shit that was going down back in june or so. well, I finally got my diversion plan set up with my CDW, after months of worrying about drug tests, fines, and all other variety of crazy things they CAN give you for drug charges.
All I got was an apology letter, a paper on the negative effects of drugs, and 20 hours community service!? What is that business?

If I weren't so ecstatic, I'd be wildly upset at the absurdity.

you left 3 fucking years ago.

you can still walk into my life and tear me all up.






I hope you burn.










ob la di, ob la da. life goes on.

Last year, a dear friend of mine moved in with us. While he was only there a few months, the physical closeness that comes with living with someone brought us closer mentally and emotionally. He was the big brother I never had and I loved him with every beat of my heart. (platonically) Even though he's been gone for over a year, all of his things are still in our house, in that spare room right across the hall from mine, where we used to sit, with both of our doors open, conversing across the hallway.

He sent me a message today, asking if he could come and pick his things up soon. He's settling down in his new place (he's moved in with his older brother) and it just doesn't feel like home without his things. I told him that was fine, whenever he had the time to swing by, and that I'd start getting his things together to make the load lighter on him.

So I've been packing up his clothing, holding each item to my face and inhaling the essence of him. The dust, the smoke, the ever-lingering scent of unknown spices. And honestly, I haven't been able to stop crying for hours. I don't think I can do this. It's been over a year since he moved out, and it's been at least 3 months since I've even seen him. But some part of me always thought that some day he'd move back in, that we'd be sitting in our door ways, laughing across the hall and being a happy family forever. If we just kept his things here long enough, he would realise that perhaps we're not the family he was born into, but we are the family he belongs to.

I miss my big brother more than I can begin to explain. This man has been there for me over the past three years more than any other single human being, and now that the reminders of him are being slowly erased from my life, I don't know what to do. He helped me coap with the greatest losses of my life, but how am I to coap when the person who helps me through loss, is the one I'm losing.

You're the only person I know who can hit all the notes in any Queen song. I'll miss you most of all. I don't know what's happening to me, but I'm so scared of ending up like the adults who surrounded me as children. Alcoholics, depressed, or worst, like my drug addicted uncle. I used to look up to him so much, he was full of so much life and light, and now that light has dimmed. All my friends are moving away to college, I'm in my last year of highschool. And now all these shelters that my parents built for me, to shield me from seeing the things the adults around me do...they're falling apart. And so my little image of adulthood, that you move out of your parents house and then your happy...is shattered.


Please don't leave me behind? I never want to grow up.

"This is for everyone around the planet
that wishes they were from somewhere other than where they're standin
dont take it for granted
instead take a look around
quit complaing and build somthing on that ground
plant somthing on that ground
dance and sleep on that ground
get on your hands and knees and watch the ants walk around the ground
make a family
make magic
make a mess
take the stress
fill your motovation
and build your nest
it sucks that you think where im from is whack
but as long as thats enough to keep your ass from comin back
and with a smile and a hint of sarcasim he says
I beg your pardon, but this is my secret garden"


On the plane home today, as we were going to land, the girl next to me (who lives in the same area) said, as we were gazing out at the sun setting from above, "It's so beautiful when the rivers are golden. I'm so happy to be home."

she spent the summer backpacking across europe. I spent the summer exploring myself in new orleans. I thought I was happy there, that I'd never want to come back. I even plan on moving there for college next year. we talked the whole plane ride of her beautiful expierences in Germany, Italy, France, Spain, and anywhere else you can imagine. She told me that despite all the beauty out there in the world, she was just happy to be back in 'the most beautiful place in the world, home.'

I've never been so happy to see the Ohio river, to smell the cool summer night, to hear the frogs and crickets in our back yard late at night. This place has never been so beautiful to me.

I'm afraid that when I leave here, I won't find this happiness that I'm so sure is waiting for me in the south. I'm afraid that I will miss it here. I hope that after all these years of resenting it here I have not finally started to see this place as home, when getting away is finally not so far off in the distance.

(x-posted)

I've been feeling green lately, it's hard to explain to people who don't understand. But I've just been ...green.

I've also been coming to terms with my dread locks. For a brief period (3 months or so), I was wanting to get rid of them. They're not perfect, they're far from perfect. Some have rounded off ends and some have little wispy, curly ends. Some refuse, no matter how much I roll and twist them, no matter how much maitenence I put into them, they don't want to agree, they do not want to get hard. They stay soft and cuddly no matter how hard I try to change what they are. Then there are some that are rock hard, doing just what I have catered them to do. Perfect and straight and the way I wanted them to be from the very beginning.
It's a giant reminder of who I am. It's all reflected in my hair. Desperate attempts at taming the rampant chaos. Working and trying to be hard and lined up but ending up soft and wimpy. My dreads are like a walking diary, cataloging ever event in the last two years of having them. much like me, they have curves and lumps and people ask me why I never bother to "fix the lumps"; why would I? My dreads are part of who I am, chock full of personality, flawed and yet totally perfect at the same time.












[Side Note: Friday, the 17th, is my dreads 2 year birthday. =) I'm so pleased.]

"Do you wash your hair?" and "So, what CAN you eat?" are both the bane of my existance.


that's what I get for being a dreadlocked vegetarian in the middle of the mid-west though, I guess.

Haha, I love this man.


I don't even care.




he's an AMAZING rapper.




















I don't even like most rap.

Anger problems are in the genetics.
My family, we love explosions. We love to explode and we love when others explode. (Only because then we can return suit with some bullshit rightious indignation.) And there haven't been any big fucking booms lately. This is just the build up of some mass explosion. The storms a-fucking-brewin'.




I want to go home. I did not want to come here. My father said 'Do you want to be down here this summer?' I declined, and he said we was buying me a ticket no matter if I liked it on not. I do not like it. I do not want to be here. I want to go home.

I think I made myself in a better mood these last two days.




[EDIT: only things you need in life; coffee, nicotine, weed.]






















Good.
fuck being unhappy. Not gonna let stupid shit bring me down anymore.






















"Yeah, I got some last words...FUCK ALL Y'ALL." - atmosphere

Have you ever met someone and then instantly wanted to know more? you met them and then you were instantly filled with a horrible hunger, a need, a thirst for them. For some unimaginable reason, they fill your head, waking and sleeping. no matter how much you assure yourself, it's bad and dangerours and you will be getting hurt, you can not...
escape.
and it's killing you, through the fog of oblivion and the double vision, smoke hanging in sleepy circles around your head; from hours away, from across the states; it's fucking killing you.