.Your imaginary friend.

Mon, 26 Nov 2007 05:49:26 GMT

I'm bored.

I'm the chairman of the board.

...

durdurdur.

By the way, I didn't make that up. It's an Iggy Pop song that's been stuck in my head for hours! I don't even like the song that much. It's one of my least favorite Iggy Pop songs, but maybe it'll grow on me...

I'm actually slightly tired right now, even though I've been having insomnia like crazy recently. Going to bed at five o'clock AM sucks badly.

WTF?

Sat, 17 Nov 2007 06:58:35 GMT

What the fuck noooow, Fred? What the fuck now?

Washington DC does not mesh with insanity

Fri, 02 Nov 2007 14:42:12 GMT

Right now... I'm either in Washington DC, or I'm really close to it. I'm on a public computer at a college, which sucks because that means no AIM to chat to the people I was supposed to chat with. There isn't Myspace to play with either, it couldn't get around the dumbass firewall. LJ happens to get around the firewall, so here I am. Damn, it'd be nice if I could tap into a wireless network on my laptop by my side. No firewalls. I can do the shit I want to do. So I guess I'm sort of on faculty territory right now, students are off doing some other shit, and I'm alone in this place. What's driving me crazy is that the community printer is in here so constantly there are teachers and staff waltzing in and getting papers that they printed. There's this balding guy in a red long-sleeved shirt that has entered this room to retrieve papers more than once.

It's really cold outside at the moment, just so you know. I wonder if there's a reason why the air conditioner is on. Right fingers are turning numb.... numb... numb... lost the feeling completely.

Lots of cars are going by because this is on a main road, and some times I find myself staring.

The guy in the red shirt just came back in and then he left. He didn't print anything this time.

Oh, now something's printing! I'm sure he'll be back soon to get that paper. Yep, there he is. Don't even have to look to see that it's him anymore. The reocurring "opening of the squeaky door" sound is really making me nervous. What's raising my paranoia more is that my back is facing the large windows so I can't see the cars. I'm just waiting for that printer to start printing out more shit for the man in the red shirt. Just heard the printer make it's humming "I'm going to print out more shit" sound and then the red shirt guy just walked in again to get his paper. He stayed in here a little longer this time to read over the papers really quick before folding them and leaving. The printer is now printing again. Red Shirt will be back soon. Yeah, there he is. This dude must be getting a lot of fucking exercise. At this point, I can clearly recognize it as being him because when he walks in, he sniffs (must have a cold), then gets the papers and then he leaves. Poor trees. Red Shirt just came back. Now he left again. Oh listen, someone's printing. He's not here to get the paper, though. Maybe someone stoned him to death on his way here.

[=

Absolutely Genius

Fri, 02 Nov 2007 00:41:43 GMT

So I bought Avenged Sevenfold's new self titled album on Tuesday, which was the day it was released. I got the bonus DVD version for the addition three dollars. Every song is flawless to me, I love it. My personal favorite is 'A Little Piece Of Heaven' which was written by the drummer of the band, James (Jimmy) Sullivan, AKA "The Rev." The song is the story of a guy who kills his girlfriend, and he does whatever he pleases with her dead body (necrophilia). Though soon her soul comes back and she kills him the same way he killed her. As these two are evil souls together, he begs for her forgiveness, she grants it, and they get married. Afterwards, they go on a killing rampage together. The song itself sounds very Nightmare Before Christmas-esque. It's amazing. Watching this song being created on the bonus DVD was amazing to see.

A Little Piece Of Heaven

Before the story begins, is it such a sin,
for me to take what's mine, until the end of time?
We were more than friends, before the story ends,
And I will take what's mine, create what
God would never design.

Our love had been so strong for far too long.
I was weak with fear that
something would go wrong.
Before the possibilities came true,
I took all possibility from you.

Almost laughed myself to tears,
conjuring her deepest fears.
(Come here you fucking bitch!)

Must have stabbed her fifty fucking times,
I can't believe it,
Ripped her heart out right before her eyes.
Eyes over easy,
Eat it, eat it, eat it.

She was never this good in bed
even when she was sleepin',
now she's just so perfect I've
never been quite so fucking deep in.
It goes on and on and on,
I can keep you lookin' young and preserved forever,
with a fountain to spray on your youth whenever.

’Cause I really always knew that my little crime
would be cold that's why I got a heater for your thighs.
And I know, I know it's not your time,
but bye bye.
And a word to the wise when the fire dies,
you think it's over but it's just begun,
But baby don't cry.

You had my heart, at least for the most part,
’Cause everybody's gotta die sometime, we fell apart,
let's make a new start,
’cause everybody's gotta die sometime.
But baby don't cry.

Now possibilities I'd never considered,
are occurring the likes of which I'd never heard.
Now an angry soul comes back from beyond the grave,
to repossess a body with which I'd misbehaved.

Smiling right from ear to ear,
Almost laughed herself to tears.

Must have stabbed him fifty fucking times,
I can't believe it,
Ripped his heart out right before his eyes.
Eyes over easy,
Eat it, eat it, eat it.

Now that it's done I realize the error of my ways,
I must venture back to apologize from somewhere far beyond the grave

I gotta make up for what I've done
’Cause I was all up in a piece of heaven
while you burned in hell, no peace forever

’Cause I really always knew that my little crime
would be cold that's why I got a heater for your thighs.
And I know, I know it's not your time,
but bye bye.
And a word to the wise when the fire dies,
you think it's over but it's just begun,
But baby don't cry.

You had my heart, at least for the most part,
’Cause everybody's gotta die sometime, we fell apart,
let's make a new start,
’cause everybody's gotta die sometime.
But baby don't cry.

I will suffer for so long,
(What will you do, not long enough)
To make it up to you.
(I pray to God that you do)
I'll do whatever you want me to do,
(Well then I’ll grant you one chance)
And if it's not enough,
(If it’s not enough, If it’s not enough)
If it's not enough,
(Not enough)
Try again,
(Try again)
And again,
(And again)
Over and over again.

We’re coming back, coming back,
We’ll live forever, live forever.
Let’s have wedding, have a wedding,
Let’s start the killing, start the killing.

"Do you take this man in death for the rest of your unnatural life?"
"Yes, I do."
"Do you take this woman in death for the rest of your unnatural life?"
"I do."
"I now pronounce you..."

’Cause I really always knew that my little crime
would be cold that's why I got a heater for your thighs.
And I know, I know it's not your time,
but bye bye.
And a word to the wise when the fire dies,
you think it's over but it's just begun,
But baby don't cry.

You had my heart, at least for the most part,
’Cause everybody's gotta die sometime, we fell apart,
let's make a new start,
’cause everybody's gotta die sometime.
But baby don't cry.

William Shakespeare Quote

Mon, 15 Oct 2007 14:54:14 GMT

If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.

He got injured... injured bad.

Sun, 14 Oct 2007 14:58:13 GMT

So, since LJ is being a bit of a shit when it comes to embedded videos... whatever. Here's the frickin' link.
The greatest moment of your life... in 33 seconds.

Link

And what do you do when a monster appears?

You kick his ass!

Internet = Fun Times

Sat, 13 Oct 2007 05:37:13 GMT

So... some guy I don't know messages me on Myspace. Apparently he's the frontman of some unsigned band from an unspecified area of the Unites States. I have no idea who the hell he is and so he messages me something about me and him being "together". Hmmph.
I told him that I was a transvestite and left it at that.

Compliments have been flowing my way quite often for some reason. Today I've been called cute and adorable (in appearance) by a guy friend who's had a crush on me for a while. And there were a bunch before today and so on. Yadda yadda yadda. I'll shut up.

I absolutely detest Hot Topic. I should punch myself in the face for shopping there today. Don't kill me, though, I didn't buy any wearable items. I bought a hardcover sketchbook with Avenged Sevenfold on the front. It's quite lovely and I do like it very much.

AND YOU KNOW WHAT?

I'm getting fucking SICK of these damn hormonal-driven teenage drama-emotion. "Cry me a river, I'll build you a bridge to get over it." (You can slap me for typing that quote)
Teenagers suck.

I'm done talking now.

In need of writing -

Wed, 10 Oct 2007 17:28:29 GMT

Last night I had a dream that I was in Disneyland. Why? Because I've always wanted to go. I've been to Disney World in Florida when I was maybe three years old and still have some weird, vivid memories of it. I remembered going on the Dumbo ride and LOVING it. My mom and I rode on the Dumbo with the purple hat. My brother and my dad rode on the Dumbo with the blue hat. Don't ask me why I remember this, because I don't know. I remember standing in a crowd of other kids that were getting autographs from the Queen of Hearts and the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland. I wanted to get the rabbit's autograph so badly, but then the queen chased him away. I wanted kick the shit out of her ever since then. Time to plot revenge against the Queen of Hearts!! I also had a pancake for breakfast in the castle. It was a Mickey Mouse pancake and even had his face on it. When I had breakfast there, Goofy and Chip and Dale were wandering around to take pictures with the kids.

Man, and being three years old I definitely remembered how much bigger the world used to be. Things are so different now!

So, anyway, in my dream of going to Disneyland, I was by myself and I remember Captain Jack Sparrow popping out of nowhere. He was all nicknames with "Love", "Darling", and etcetera. I think I scared him, though. In my dream, he thought that I was strange.

Later on in my dream, Disneyland is cut out, and suddenly I'm accepted into this local band as a lead guitarist. There was a girl rhythm guitarist and she had blonde hair and was sort of goody-goody, and she was playing 'Pitiful' by Blindside for some reason. I kicked ass in that part of the dream. 'Nuff said.

Now I'm just sitting here in my unmade bed and sort of bored, but not terribly. I love recalling dreams. I was so glad that I finally remembered a dream after so long! And it was something I loved! I love Disney, I love Jack Sparrow (who DOESN'T?), and I love music and being a guitarist. When I woke up, I was drooling on my pillow. I had a great sleep for the first time in a long time.

Fuck advertising

Thu, 20 Sep 2007 19:24:58 GMT

I'm advertising for that Massachusetts band, Aquell. Get a load of that bitchin' logo printed on their new merch!

You can support the band and buy buy buy here.

Listen to their music here.

love,
Me

Lyrics that I didn't write: Part Two

Sun, 16 Sep 2007 15:17:41 GMT

The Way You Dance by Blindside

Softly like a touch of a dark angel.
Her hand in yours,
You're dressed to kill.
Can she tell?

Swing your partner to the right,
Swing your partner to the left,
Swing your partner to the right,
It scares me, the way you dance.

She looks pretty,
Hair glittering with confetti.
How does it feel man?
Hold steady,
Is she ready?
Does she like it dancing on the broken glass?

Watching you from across the room,
One hand on the waist while the other, knuckles turning white.
Are you holding on for dear life, or does she not know how to let go?

Swing your partner to the right,
Swing your partner to the left,
Swing your partner to the right,
It scares me, the way you dance.

She looks pretty,
Hair glittering with confetti.
How does it feel man?
Hold steady,
Is she ready?
Does she like it dancing on the broken glass?

I see you're wearing your shoes,
Where are hers?
And I see I'm wearing my shoes.
Don't want to but in this square-dance,
Everybody have to dance,
Everybody dance now.

She looks pretty,
Hair glittering with confetti.
How does it feel man?
Hold steady,
Is she ready?
Does she like it dancing on the broken glass?

She looks pretty,
Hair glittering with confetti.
How does it feel man?
Hold steady,
Is she ready?
Does she like it dancing on her broken dreams?

Lyrics that I didn't write

Fri, 14 Sep 2007 03:57:17 GMT

Critical Acclaim by Avenged Sevenfold

Shh, quiet, you might piss somebody off.
Like me, motherfucker, you’ve been at it for too long.
While you feed off others' insecurities, you stand in front of me and bite the hand that feeds.

Self righteousness is wearing thin.
(Lies inside your head, your best friend)
I’ll bleed but not for fellow man.
(Broken glass, your fake reflection)

Telling them it’s all for something real,
Don’t respect the words you're speaking,
Gone too far,
Acclaim.

So, how does it feel to know that someone’s kid in the heart of America has blood on their hands fighting to defend your rights?
So you can maintain the lifestyle that insults his family’s existence.
Well where I'm from we have a special salute waved high in the air towards all those pompous assholes who spend their days pointing fingers.

(Fuck you)

Shh, quiet, you might piss somebody off,
Like the heartbeat of this country when antagonized too long.
I’ll be damned if you count me in as part of your
Generous, hypocrisy collected and amazed.

Tabloid gossip, we want less real.
(There’s no need for us to bury you)
Selfish agenda, once again.
(Right this way, you dug your own grave)

Telling them it’s all for something real,
Don’t respect the words you're speaking,
Gone too far,
Acclaim.

All the way from the east to the west we got this high society looking down on their very foundation,
Constantly reminding us that our actions are the cause of all their problems.
Pointing their fingers in every direction,
Blaming their own nation for who wins elections,
They never contributed a fucking thing to the country they love to criticize.

Excuse the obscene,
Ignore the untrue,
Depictions we see,
Try and get through.
And many mistakes can't hurt,
I’m not the last, but I sure ain’t the first.

(Shh, quiet - you might piss somebody off)
Self righteousness is wearing thin.
(Lies inside your head, your best friend)
I’ll bleed but not for fellow man.
(Broken glass, your fake reflection)

Telling them it’s all for something real,
Don’t respect the words you're speaking,
Gone too far,
Acclaim.

Just Talking

Wed, 12 Sep 2007 23:43:19 GMT

You know, most people will find this pointless to read, but I don't care.

I'm sick of CLEANING after people. Do you have any idea how frustrating it is? Very.

Cleaning does so many wonders, though. Like today, I made my bed more hardcore than usual. I tore everything off the bed and peeled off the feather bed to arrange it into his regular shape again. While doing that, I found the silver mermaid ring I bought at Ozzfest this year. Highlight of the day, honestly, because it means so much to me. I love that thing. It's a gorgeous silver ring where the mermaid herself is playing a flute and her tail forms the band for your finger, the very end of the tail fanning at the mermaid's torso when it returns from forming the circle. So anyway, I lost it weeks ago, and all along I find that I've been sleeping on it the entire time every single night. Hm.

So, yeah, back to the main subject.
I did the dishes. Straightened out the couch (because some lovely formed that into a bed for themselves to watch TV comfortably). I spilled a little bit of coffee ground on the kitchen floor earlier because when I was going through the freezer to find some dinner, some genius placed the bag right on the edge of the shelf, wide open without the top even rolled down. So, it puked some of its contents onto the floor, I grumble the fuck-word, then I get a broom and pan to sweep it up. All clean. You see? I clean my messes. I'm a good girl.

I've been lounging on my nicely-made bed now for a few minutes at this point. On my right, I see the window to the outside, and also the fan in the window. Every time I look through the fan, I see a distorted image of the outside. I keep thinking that the combination of my neighbor's mailbox and the black of the other neighbor's hilled driveway is a car. Alas, the distorted image of it deceived me. However, it still looks like a car even though I know it's not a car. I looked again and now it looks like a white car. Every time I lift myself to look out the window through clear glass, all I see is the road, so there's not actually a white car out there either. That's as likely as there being a black car out there. Through the view of the glass, nothing out there looks even a little bit like car.

Now it just got too dark to see anything through the fan in the window. I wonder if that fan is going to be necessary, really? It was quite cold today. I went to bed last night absolutely frozen, and I woke up this morning absolutely frozen. I wore a jacket with a hoodie over it during school because I was still so cold. I seem fine right now, though. Then again, I've been warm ever since I was in the basement working out this afternoon. My legs are a bit chilly, though.

It's now 7:41.
No, it's 7:42.

I'm going to go do something better.

I like to swear =D (Warning: Explicit Content LOL)

Tue, 11 Sep 2007 22:51:00 GMT

So, I made a sad attempt of trying to stop cursing. Did it work? NO LOL.

Eh, fuck the clever censorship of I. I'm getting tired of writing "fu*k" and there's really no point to it anyway. Seriously. With my censorship, you can still see the word perfectly fine because I don't bother blocking out the damn vowels. Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck you, you fucking fuck. Hm. Ass, damn, bitch, bastard, shit, fuck. Chyah. Oh, and the Q-word.

If curious parents rape my LJ with their eyes and which resulting in something I'd rather not speak of, then... yeah. I won't stop fucking cursing. Whoooooops!

What am I doing now? Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.
So I'll just swear swear swear. In the outside world, I'll pretend that I give a shit and not swear as much.

You can't expect me to stop the habit, though. Wait until I mature some more. Bitches. =]

love,
Me

Death Metal

Sun, 09 Sep 2007 16:56:21 GMT

I find most metal music to be absolutely hysterical. The lyrics are normally the same. Right now, I'm listening to a song called 'Ravenous' by Arch Enemy. The front[wo]man is a Swedish woman named Angela Gossow and she sounds like she's hacking up organs every time she growls into the microphone. Sounds painful. It's hilarious because the lady reminds me of maybe a Playboy playmate. Here's a picture.

This is the chorus of the song:

Ravenous -
I'll be your god,
Carnivorous Jesus,
I need your flesh.

She's a playmate that'll literally eat you. Cannibalistic hot chick. Mm, mm, mmmm!
I like a girl that knows how to tame a boy and chomp down on him.

Arch Enemy's music is really damn catchy. That's why I continue listening to it even though I think the lyrics are ridiculous.

There's another band called Cannibal Corpse, and I don't even know what to say about them. It's just brutally... stupid. Some of their song titles include 'Hammer Smashed Face', 'Addicted to Vaginal Skin', 'Post Mortal Ejaculation', 'I Cum Blood', 'Orgasm Through Torture', 'Submerged in Boiling Flesh', and etcetera. Here is a link to their songs and the associated lyrics. My most recent ex-boyfriend loves Cannibal Corpse. Ex-boyfriend. I repeat; ex-boyfriend.

Lyrics from the song 'Hammer Smashed Face':

Eyes bulging from their sockets.
With every swing of my mallet
I smash your fu*king head in, until brains seep in
Through the cracks, blood does leak
Distorted beauty, catastrophe.
Steaming slop, splattered all over me.

Cannibal Corpse is extremely popular, too. Comes to show people will accept any bulk of sh*t-lyrics as long as the music is loud, obnoxious, and tasteless. The frontman of the band has difficulties pronouncing the words with his obnoxiously low-pitched growling. The lyrics below will sound like this in the actual song:

Oz bolge-n fraw dah sah-
Wi' erry swuh ah mah maw-
I smosh yr foki' huh in, un'l brawns sup i'
Thraw th' crocks, blod dah' lok
Di'or'd botty, cototraf.
Stomming sop, spot'd al'r mah.

That hurt my head attempting to write those words the way Cannibal Corpse performs it. Sounds like devil's tongue (and I bet that would be a compliment to them). Here's more of an insult: Looks like the words of a nymphomaniac 40-year old with downs syndrome who drinks his own urine. It also burns when he pees.
I really don't want to get into the rest of the Cannibal Corpse songs, so I'll stop now.

In conclusion: I like music where I can actually hear the words, and the lyricist actually proves him/herself to be somewhat intelligent, real, and down to earth. I doubt Cannibal Corpse actually smashed hammers into people's faces while having a blood-'gasm (that's my word for it). If someone actually did have blood in their orgasm, I'd be a little concerned. Sounds like a severe STD. The gory lyrics in their songs are commons thoughts of the teenage nerd-boy who tells people that they relate to the words so well, and it's as if they're singing [growling] about his life. This breed of male teenagers also spends all day in his house with no sunlight, in his mother's basement, and he's always on the computer so he can whack off to Googled pictures of actresses from High School Musical. Maybe that just whack off to Googled pictures of Cannibal Corpse.

I have to go now. I enjoyed writing this.

Sun, 09 Sep 2007 04:09:23 GMT

The beautiful people, the beautiful people,
It's all relative to the size of your steeple,
You can't see the forest for the trees
You can't smell your own sh*t on your knees.

I'm not much for Marilyn Manson. I liked the cover Eighteen Visions did for it. I kind of liked the lyrics, too. That's just me. Marilyn Manson is alright so long as he isn't shoving his religious views down people's throats and going on about being the supposed 'anti-christ'. Please, do some of us a favor, and shut the fu*k up about your religious views. The obsessed fans that are standing under your long-cast shadow can go ahead and continue kissing your a*s. Start a cult. Drink some Kool-Aid. Bitte und danke.

Okay. Done with that.

It's difficult to live with people who like to argue constantly. People who are at each other's throats a lot. I can't stand people that won't let go of something that happened in the past. Fu*king get over it you pathetic schmuck.

I don't mind it some times, but lately I've been getting tired of people whining about their problems to me. Especially if the problems have been the same damn thing for a very long time and there's nothing new to it. Most of these problems I've heard can be solved with just one answer; Shut up and GET OVER IT. I don't say anything, though. I shut up like a good girl and listen silently. For other people, I don't mind listening to their problems at all. When it comes to everyone, though, I understand that it's good to rant. How about rant to someone else for once?

Now I'm going to talk about something else.

I'm awake even though I shouldn't be. I'm working on being healthy with exercising and stuff and right now I'm lounging in bed, in the process of annihilating shaped chocolates. I'm good at this health stuff. But hey, shut the hell up, I'm not fat. Just chubbly. But not really. I made up that word. I'm skinny, but I can and want to be skinnier. There's still some extra flub that can use some trimming.

I'm sick of typing, now.

Bye.

Meet Mr. Harvey and Mr. Lum

Tue, 04 Sep 2007 17:55:20 GMT

Mr. Harvey

Mr. Lum

They are the best of friends.

And were hand sewn by me
out of my old socks.
That were also worn by me at some point.

Mr. Lum's monkey-pattern truly makes no sense. Though the monkey-print means so much to me. The socks were originally a Christmas gift from my aunt several, several Christmases ago. When the socks decided that it was time to make their leave as a clothing item, Mr. Lum was created.

They are both rather scrappy-looking, though they were the first sock-creatures I ever made.
And this was last month.

I plan to make more.

love,
Me

Mon, 03 Sep 2007 04:13:56 GMT

I don't think I've had this sort of emotional breakdown in a very, very long time.

I'm absolutely crushed.

Sadness was once a stranger,

And now we've become friends.

I feel like there's something wrong with me,

Because this doesn't seem normal.

Sadness wasn't supposed to be my friend.

But I suppose

We all become acquainted with sadness

Every now and then.

Fu*k.
Fu*k.
FUCCCK.

Communication failure and homemade clothing

Sun, 02 Sep 2007 21:06:22 GMT

An amount of people apparently do not communicate to others as well as some.

There's a mentally ill boy around the age of 17-19 in our neighborhood that likes to wander the roads solitary on his bicycle (where his father is, I don't know), and on occasion, he visits every house to see if they people inside would like to play or just chat. Only minutes ago was he riding his bike in circles in my front yard, and then he approached my brother who was currently working on his car. I noticed him out there immediately, and I went outside rather quickly. My brother doesn't exactly know how to communicate very well. Though he doesn't want to talk to this poor boy and tells him to leave, the boy won't. When I stepped out, I politely said 'hi' and then I said, "I'm sorry, but you can't be on our property. We're very busy people, and I think it's time for you to go home." The boy shrugs and says, "Okay, but what's your name? Are you his sister (referring to my brother?" I just told him, "You have to leave, now. I'm sorry. Goodbye." He responds with 'bye', and then he gets back on his bike and leaves. I was very polite. Simple.

Anyway.

Right now I'm working on making myself a pixie skirt. I've already cut it up. It was hard to do because I've never made my own real clothing before. It's just plain black because that's the only fabric I could find in my house that was the appropriate material. So far it's coming out lovely. I just need to find a sewing needle. I don't use sewing machines, and I think making items entirely by hand makes it more personal. I'll post pictures when I'm completely finished.

Dunce

Fri, 31 Aug 2007 18:00:13 GMT

Dunce Dunce Dunce

Obsession. Desire. Depression.
Nothing is meant to be,
Love never wanted me.
- Eighteen Visions

I'm supposed to be happy, get it?

Thu, 30 Aug 2007 20:06:45 GMT

I'm sick and tired of a lot of things around me.
Well, I've been sick and tired of these things for a while... but right now it's just cutting deeper into me. It's annoying.

Last night I had a conversation with my dad that was really important to me, and it gives me a new perspective on life. I look at things differently, now. More poetically. For a long time, we just hung out in my backyard. He sat in a wooden chair while I sat on top of a plastic bucket across from him. He basically did all of the talking, I just sat there and listening intently.
Okay. Enough of that.

Anyway, yeah, I'm very annoyed. I won't say why, though, because involving too much of my personal life in leh interweb would be baaaad. I shouldn't post too many vulgar things because some moron who knows me in the real world will find this and hold it against me. It's happened before. No need for 'splaining.

Don't I just sound like some overly-depressive teen who is absolutely drunk with self-pity? Ha! I should stop that. To make things clear... I don't pity myself even a little bit. I'm a very humble person.

Maybe I'll type bigger to make myself appear a little less mature... immaturity = a brighter appeal in the things I write?

Is that okay?
How about this?!
IN BOLD AND CAPITAL LETTERS.

No. That's annoying. I like tiny letters.

What if I type in colors?
Purple?
Pink?
Blue?
Red?
Orange?
Fu*king rainbow?

Does my writing look happy yet?

Screw it.

I'm done with that.

I AM HAPPY. =DDDDDDD (obnoxious smiley face)

I think the only time that I've ever been truly "depressed"... no, I like the word "miserable" better.
So anyway...
I think the only time I've ever been truly miserable was when I was about 13-14 years old. You know, the whole hormonal stage... because I never had hormones before, and here they come rearing their ugly head in my young life. God, I was such a pissed off child. At that age I was rather ugly, I had long hair all the way down to my ass, and felt a need to swear way more than I do now. I still fu*king swear a sh*tload daily, but not as badly as I did then. Oh, and I had really ugly glasses and no sense of style either. Styyyyle. My music tastes were shoite, too.

Now I'm 16 years old. I have short blonde (I like to spell "blond" with an 'e', thank you very much) hair with pinkish-red streaks in it. I have a sense of style. My taste in music is far more developed. My personality is far more developed. I have black-framed glasses that I like very much. No, not emo. Emo can go to hell.
Emo Elmo.
Emo Emu. Say that ten times fast. Starting... NOW.
Lawl.

You know, I'm not a lesbian. Not even bisexual. Did you know that? Oh yes. I stated that I was straight in the previous post, I do believe. I have absolutely no problem with people who have this sexuality, though. I'm just prejudiced. So, anyway, I have my own personal opinion on girls... I say "ew" when she's ugly, and I'll say "she's hot" or "I'd do her" if she's cute. Yes, I'll say if a girl is cute, 'hot', or not. I don't give a shoite what you think. I also hold hands with my female friends and kiss them on the cheek when I feel like it. Shut up.

What else should I talk about? I'm rambling.
I'm listening to music right now and chatting to dude friends. I'm waiting for an email, though it probably won't come any time soon.

I should get off me arse and do something. What could I do?
God, I don't know.
Maybe I'll just sit here and pack some poundage.
I'm really hungry, though.

Ladies and gentlemen... I present to you...

Wed, 29 Aug 2007 18:05:01 GMT

I may or may not be just a teenager.
I could possibly be a boy.
I'm a stranger.
I'm a librarian of blank books,
Keeper of dried roses,
The sort who pretend to be mysterious,
And some times it actually works.

My favorite word is melancholy, even though the word doesn't affiliate itself with my life.

My favorite number is 52 for absolutely no reason.

My name is French because my family is French.

I study German even though I'm not very good at it.

I draw a lot because I feel like it.

I listen to a lot of music and it bothers people.

I speak my mind regardless of the consequences, and that bothers people, too.

I like top hats even though I don't have one just yet.

I have six piercings and many tattoos that I draw on myself.

I like helium balloons, especially red ones.

Speaking of that - red is also my favorite color.

I think red, white, and black are a perfect combination,
and said combination is used in my favorite children's book, Olivia.

I think that it's funny that you can buy lacy fetish-wear on Amazon.com.

I don't like to watch TV, but my favorite show is Mystery Science Theatre 3000.

I don't like spelling the word 'theatre' as 'theater', because my version is better.

I like to dress up when I feel like it.

I only think I'm pretty on rare occasion. Otherwise, I find myself rather repulsive despite what people tell me.

I don't like to date because I haven't found the right person. I plan to save romance for later.

I still like to draw romance, though, for the sake of its cuteness.

I think sex is overrated, and it's what most people these days can't stop thinking of. I don't think about it.

I dye my hair frequently and some times forget what it's like to have my natural color.

I have an electric guitar, and I've been playing it for over three years.

I like the word electric because it sounds so spontaneous. That's not my favorite word, though. We went over that. My favorite word is melancholy.

I also like the word contradict.

I like to go outside because it's so pure and amazing.

I generally have Christian beliefs, though I have a hard time maintaining such faith because of hypocrites who don't accept me.

I normally swear quite often, but I'm gradually breaking the habit.

I think the word pompous sounds disgusting, though it's a word that describes our U.S politicians.

Speaking of the U.S, I think it's boring. I plan to move to Ireland when I have the chance.

I like parasols, or just plain umbrellas.

I like tutus as well, and I don't know a thing of ballet.

My most prized possession is my blank hardcover book that has a blue cover with silver flowers and birds. I take it everywhere because it comforts me. I've only filled about four pages in it.

If I had to choose between being blind or deaf, I'd be blind. Then I would get surgery to see again.

I can't think of anything else to say, so I'm going to stop typing now.
Bye.