Holy crow. It's been centuries since I have been on here. Here I am dusting off the cobwebs, and making it look all spick and span. Maybe one day I will get back into the real writing I use to do, but life doesn't seem to be looking too grand to be doing so. I tell myself often, maybe one day. Bah, yeah, maybe. Until that "one" day comes, I am left longing for good stories to read and the patience to wait for the updates that never seem to come. Oh, sigh, that would be nice. But alas, here I sit on my stool, in the kitchen, listening to my daughter create havic in the next room. Maybe I should go check on her...or maybe just laugh while she tears apart the house, eh, it doesn't seem to matter. Here she comes rambling down the hall way in her walker, just yelling and screaming. Ode to the days of relaxation and my sanity!
I hate how people judge me. I hate how people think I am always this happy-go-lucky person. I hate crying. I hate always thinking about committing suicide. I hate pretending like everything is okay. I hate how my friends are nearly gone. I hate that I wish I was never born. I hate how people stare at me. I hate how people think they it's always me. I hate it how people talk shit when the person is standing right there! I hate being passive. I hate sweating. I hate life. I hate that my brother's left. I hate how people use me. I hate German class. I also hate almost everyone in German. I hate that I didn't take creative writing. I working so hard only to get no where. I hate stress. I hate not having a job. I hate people believing everything they hear. I hate that people can't draw their own conclusions. I hate it that I know so many secrets. I hate being tired and wanting to cry. I hate complaining. I hate that sometimes I try so hard and yet its no use. I hate trying to get into peoples good spirits. I hate that I never see my mom anymore. I hate that all she cares about is her work. I hate that people think on impulse only to find out they fucked up in the end. I hate that I over-analyize everything. I hate that I am no longer friends with Erika. I hate that I can't get a boyfriend. I hate that I can never let go of the feeling of the weight of the world on my shoulders. I hate that I am my own worst critic. I hate that I am so self-concious. I hate that people jump to conclusions. I hate it when people cry infront of me. I hate it when I give into when people want sweets from me. I hate that I can't make a DIV layout. I hate that I know I am going to fail the German regents. I hate it when people yell at me. I hate when people think I don't know shit. I hate that I am uncomfortable in my own skin. I hate that I feel like going back to my old ways. I hate anorexia. I hate it when people can never make their minds up. I hate when people say they want to be single and then decide that they can't be independent. I hate that my dog, Bacon, always pisses and shits on the floor. I hate that I didn't think to do this entry before now. I hate that Science is my worst class. I hate that I don't have the urge to study for things I know I should. I hate it that I am afraid of the dark. I hate it when people are so selfish. I hate it when people accuse me of making someone poor, what the fuck. I hate that I am told not to swear. I hate my mom's smoking. I hate smoking. I hate death. I hate my brothers not being here. I hate that I have never been out of the country. I hate that music seems like my only escape. I hate that my inspiration for stories and poems are dwindling. I hate when people eye me like they know something is my fault. I hate getting asked out by kids that I am friends with. I hate being treated like shit. I hate having to literally listen to people talk about me behind me. I hate when people use the word like too much. I hate it that people are so ignorant. I hate know-it-alls. I hate rude people. I hate it when people eat with their mouth's open. I hate that I can't find THE guy. I hate that I doodle when I could be paying attention. I hate how people think I waste things, which is never the case. I hate how people say 'I love you' within a week of dating. I hate it when I see sex scenes on TV. I hate not laughing as often as I use to. I hate not being comfortable to be able to talk to my brothers. I hate that I never get to say what I really think. I just HATE myself.
Why should we all be reasonably sane? We're not all normal and nor should we all act it. I would like to believe we are credible to the way we present ourselves. Life is short and why should we all be another clone of the ideal life or person for that matter. Sure, this has been a matter of discussion between every which person. It's just bland and I would rather run naked through the street than sit there in an over sized sweat shirt.
I'm tired and I think this is why I am over-analyzing everything. I have exams and four regents exams. It's a rough course ahead and the seat doesn't seem to be getting anymore comfortable. One things for sure, I want to get a job once summer comes my way. And if I can I want to get a freakin' car. There is so much independence in just the word: a car. And I will be able to get my license and just be truly free. I am learning on a standard which is somewhat a pain, but then I will be able to drive anything. Now that is a good idea, even though I have stalled it more times than I can really ever count.
I am going to go work on the reading guide for Latin America. One of my favorite continents. Well, I'm gone.
I stopped and stared awhile at nothing and everything. My face void of any reaction, just standing there humbly. Faces passed within a blur, I was so convinced that they were all lies. Everything that I once had knew were wrongs that had been rights and truths that now hold no meaning. At the chance I had I bumped into the things I had avoided, in hopes that I could get passed it quicker, and make a safe escape. Who ever told us that everything went up after the hardships was lying, and it is no longer what we had once thought. We were meant to be gripped by the idea of it. Now we are bitter recluses, waiting for the chance to leave behind a horrible reminder of our past. Some will wait for years, for that one little dream; reminder. And once we have left it behind we can sleep, peacefully...and be able to stand with confidence.
I'm tired of being disrespected by people I don't even know, and those people don't even know me. How shallow and small minded can you be that you have sink so low as to make fun of people. I hate that, I sit there and I'm a quiet person, I answer when I am called on, and I respect other's space and privacy. I chose to not be loud and obnoxious like other's, and that's ME.
It's just so low of anyone, if you have to give glares, angry stares, when you didn't do anything wrong. And all you probably did was look up and glance around.
I'm numbed of all feeling for awhile now, so it's ok, but there is a point where my patience runs out and my 'horrible' side is no longer on the fritz. Believe it when I say, I have one of the most terrifying pissed of modes, where I could probably actually do damage to someone and their person. No one has seen that side of me, not one of my closest friends, just my brothers, and not really mom. Sure, we've yelled at each other like crazy before where I actually broke down and cried, but other than that. No, no one has never seen my other personality. And truthfully, I would rather keep that part of me locked away so it doesn't hurt others because I KNOW that side of me could hurt anyone it pleased.
I'm procrastinating, I should really practice my speech, but I like the feeling of suspense in having to give a prepared speech, I will be nervous, but I know what I want to say. And I love that idea. I want to make more hand gestures, eye contact, and actually make it so my voice is strong- no wavering involved. I want to be able to smile and not waver because people stare like you're dumber than dumb. I want to educate people on how to get your novel published, and steps you should take to getting there. Ha, I bet NO one in that room will give me the most dumbfounded look.
But it sucks that I failed my speech and I had more time than everyone and they did some very dumb stuff, like fiddled with their sleeves and they had subjects that were only meant to make you laugh, I actually want something that will make others think. I doubt this will do the job, but I can try, right?
I walk in from a dreary day of nothing but bitterness. As I walk in I see only my notebook. The same notebook where I cried over nonsense, the one that I killed creepy crawling insects, the same one where I wrote my most inner thoughts; my inner being.
I wrote your name and crossed it out twice just for reassurance. Then I laughed with noticeable anguish. Then I wrote it again, then threw it against the wall knowing that we were no longer talking, no loner anything but people who walked by each other on the street. In minds eye I had several scenarios in my head. One being slamming my desk against the wall and making my knuckles bleed, but sooner I realized it wasn't worth it.
In this notebook I wrote what was a life from so many times in a year. The same girl who could make anyone laugh, be the life of the party, the same girl who could be so quiet, and look so vulnerable. And this girl has died right there in those pages, so many times, but that's where she resides, but no one bothers to read; to turn the pages. I look back through those pages with as much curiosity as if I was an infant. I'm blank as stone. Just starring on into a space all my own. All my own.
What were to happen if I lost another. Someone as or equally as important, what would that same girl have done? Broken down...cried those tears all over again just for the taste of the same death. No, I think she would grow colder, more distant in her stance. Alone and rigid in faith for another chance what would have been happiness. The world that she had once known would have grown to a beauty of so many before her. She is gone, like the wind that blew away the ashes of the last possible happiness that could have been given. She is lost; lost in the pages. And only time will tell whether or not she is ready to break free.
Well, greetings from this wonderful school of mine. Nothing really new except my friend was flipping outover the whole amish thing on the news. Well it is something to flip out about since techincally her fiance is an amish guy. Oh what joy.
I have nothing to do and I am pissed off because supposedly we were suppose to ask for a self evaluation sheet and I never knew we had to. So now I basically get a zero for it, what the heck? Why can't people just make it plain and simple and tell us when something is due.
I will live with it I guess. Well this post is short since I have to leave soon. Well I hope everyone has a wonderful day, or whatever it is you do.
My cat was put down today. It was horrifying. You see she attacked us this morning (us meaning my dad and I.) Her eyes were dialated and her tail was poofed out. She looked possessed. If she did hear her name she would attack the person who said it. Namely me, since I did say her name and on my bed. It was strange...I said, "Crystal." and then she looked at me with consideration and BAM, she attacked.
Well first...this is what she did to my dad.
He came in and was like 'hi crystal' and she attacked his shoes, this is normal since she has always been known to hate our shoes. But it was different, she was so aggressive. And then she backed off and did it again with a total of three times before my dad left the room. I think he thought she was just mad or something. I have no clue. That's when she attacked me.
She actually was making a range of different noises. Hissing, growling, evil meowing (no kidding either) and gurgle like.
Anyway...my dad got her in the cage and she ended up poohing in it, but we weren't sure until later on.
I called my mom and by then I was in hysterics. She couldn't understand what I was saying and blah blah blah.
She ended up making an appointment for us. At Midstate which isn't too far away. We took her there and were greeted by a very nice staff. The receptionist was lovely, she ended up being a friend of my distant cousins. And we waited in the lounge area or whatever you want to call it. The car ride over must have helped Crystal because she wasn't acting estranged anymore. Thank god because I didn't want to have to go in there with her attacking the doctor.
The doctor said it could have been a number of things. She could have been in heat, she could be losing her memory, she could have a brain tumor, and many other things.
So the doctor decided to do blood tests and give her rabies vaccine. And it came out with $155.00 bill. Bleh.
We took her home. We let her out in the tracker since she was good in the doctors. She was fine on the ride home. We dropped her off and got food and came back.
We ate and tried not to be petrified of her. Dad said to walk up to her and let her sniff your hand. I did, still scared out of my wits and I think she knew I was scared shitless.
Well anyway...I ended up laying on the couch and she got up there and layed down on my foot. Sabrina, my kitten, did the same.
My dad left and got on the computer and in that time I could feel a weird digesting thing in Crystal's stomach. I couldn't really tell what it was.
And my dad came back in and Crystal meowed strangely. But she didn't do anything. My dad pat her and rubbed her.
Then BAM! "ROWWWWWW!!!" Hiss. Attack.
She basically cornered my dad and backed him so far that he fell on his butt. She got him good. She still attacked and he had a radio in his hand. Ready to hit her with it. I was standing on the couch scared and I was panicking. When I panic nothing gets done and I am stunned. Shocked and non-moving. I ran from the living room, which was the stupidest thing because I left my dad to fend for himself.
By then Crystal ended up in the window. Dad took the pin out and down went the window. It slammed on her tail causing her to meow really loud. Dad said he shouldn't have let her go because of that but he did. He came out and closed the living room door. I come out with Sabrina in my hands thanking him that she was in there. I look around and- shit she is in the window in the kitchen. My dad looked and was like, 'How the hell did she get in here?'
My dad had gloves on by then. Not wanting to get scratched on the hand again. He was wearing shorts mind you.
I went back into my room and paced because I could hear the horrible possessed meows and then it was over.
There ended being shit everywhere, literally. She shit on the window, it was smeared. She shit in the window case and when the window had closed...well lets just say it made contact.
We ended up going back to the vets. We out her down. I stayed in the car and tried not to cry. I was successful.
My dad ended up getting his money back for some of the last bill...on having to pay $80.00 total.
I miss her. And I didn't want my last thoughts of her being ruthless and mean. But you can't always get what you want.
I feel guilty and responsible about my dad's wounds. I could have done something. And I didn't because I panicked. It just makes me feel weak and worthless. What's the point of being there if you can't do anything? Erg.
I miss her, but I didn't want her to hurt anyone. I guess it was for the best.
She lived eight years. 1999-2006. Not too bad I guess. I love and miss her dearly.
Well, it's been awhile. I got a kitten over all this time and then she got a horrible cold and we had to get medicine. We went to the Renaissance fair...and got our chicken for free. Yeah and they were suppose to be six bucks a leg. I don't know what else. It's been awhile.
This upcoming week I'm suppose to be spending a whole we with JUST my dad. I have no real problem with it except the fact that it's very hot there and that we never really talk. It's lonely, which makes me depressed. I will probably end up taking my cat, Sabrina, with me. Yeah, she's a gypsy kitty. She doesn't even mind car rides. She will hang in the hole on the head rest.
I feel bad because I was talking to Mila and then I had to leave to answer the phone and then I forgot about the computer and then she left. If you're reading this, I'm sorry. Oh and I read the last chapter and I felt lazy again and didn't review. And I know that's no excuse and I will just take the time to review on your LJ. If I get the time. But I promise I will.
Well Maura, she's another writer, wrote chapter nine to In Too Deep and she did it yesterday. And now she is half way through chapter ten. I'm telling you, this story is the IT story. It's focused, you get a relationship, deceit, lies, distrust, love and a lot more all wrapped into one. She's a writing machine when it comes to this story. With Hickory Lane she kind of went of the whole thing, but eventually she ended it. But now I think she is becoming more in-tuned in what she wants with a story. Good for her. I love her stories. She's trying to get published and doesn't have a job. I swear! Who wouldn't want to hire an amazing writer! She is sort of giving up on the whole writing thing, and looking for a job. But I think she will write until she passes into the next life.
I got an MP3 player. It's awesome. It's SMALL. Plus it's colored, but it doesn't hold that much songs on it, although that may be true, I'm content with it.
I got $200.00 from my dad for shopping, and I spent $100.00 on shoes, two pairs, yeah I am a lousy bargainer when it comes to shoes. And the rest I spent on my brother's birthday gift which was thirty bucks and fifty on the MP3, which is lucky because I got it off of ebay.
I don't know what else to say, it's been forever.
Well I know one thing, I just hope this year is better, I don't know how much more sadness I can take. I know I will crack soon, but I will deal with it when the time comes. Wholly weight on my shoulders.
Well good night to everyone and I hope everyone has a wonderful weekend.
I love thunder storms to an extent. Really. They can be so enjoyable, but sometimes there annoying and just a hassle. We had one not too many hours ago. The scanner went crazy, people did stupid stuff, power lines went cur-plunk, and the cable went out. Oh joyous! Sing happy songs! Loud crashes of thunder and a lightning bolt was right by us. Freakin' scary! Crystal, my cat, freaked. She was all jittery about the whole thing, she freaking ran from the window to under a chair! Although that's not as bad as a dog running away from the storm.
I'm bored and I played with my myspace. Took awesome pictures. Who cares if anyone likes them, you know that kind of thing. I should Crytal's picture on there and then everyone will know she is model material. She can stand like a confident statue. No slumping or anything, very dominant.
I had flash backs today. About Tim. I laughed because of how stupid I acted and how I didn't get the guts up to give him my number. It will, I realize now, never happen again. I probably won't ever see him again and that's okay because I took away with me an experience with good people. He was mysterious and in a way that taught something about the human emotions. Strange as it may, it just did, no other way to explain it. And now until the day I die it will affect everything I do. Yay.
I heard Martina McBride's song 'God's Will' and I cried. Like it wasn't full on sobbing or anything like that, but I cried enough so where I had to go get a tissue. It was random too because the song didn't really get me until the almost very end. I know why I cried, but I don't think I realized it until I went and got a tissue. It's depressing what it was about but I have to trudge ahead and just let it go. I was told to do that...even if they were rude about it.
I got paranoid last night. A car pulled in next door, right? Well the headlights I had never seen before. (I know I can memorize head lights, but that's only because I remember what the neighbors drive) Anyway, they turned off their car (no head lights), and they got out. I could hear the crunching of old dead leaves and that's what freaked me out. I immediately got off the computer because it sounded like they were going to the back of our apartment. I know it was locked and all, but still. Well, I turned the kitchen light off and went and stood near my dad's door, just in case, so I could walk not too far to wake him up. I stood there starring at the back door. I kept hearing noises. So then I walk in here (computer room), and I look out the window and the head lights are back on. They actually sat there for awhile and then they left. It freaked the fuck out of me! We technically live 30 feet away from the ghetto. All the druggies and drug dealers. So THAT'S why I got paranoid. And the rest of the night I would look out to the hall from my bed waiting for a shadow to pop out from the dark and scare me. Thankfully that never happened. Yeah, horrible. Paranoia. So, now I am trying to relax about that. Trying being the keyword.
Well, yeah, pretty boring. Nothing sooo significant happened, but once spoken, shit happens.