déesse - goddess, female deity.
saleté - dirty.
February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
June 2003
July 2003
August 2003
The president said he opposes gay marriage, and suggested his administration might propose legislation on the subject.
"I believe a marriage is between a man and a woman. And I think we ought to codify that one way or the other. And we've got lawyers looking at the best way to do that," he said.
[source]
Oh, for the love of crap. Just because the president, one man, believes it's wrong, he has the power to deny legal rights to millions of perfectly peaceful, perfectly harmless Americans? So what, if I were president (ha, which wouldn't happen ever for the simple fact that I'm a woman), if I were for some reason "morally opposed" to Judaism, I could deny Jews the right to marry, or adopt children, or even set up churches practicing their religion? (That last metaphor was in reference to select parliaments' refusals to allow gay pride displays in their cities.)
Or here's a better one. I personally don't approve of sixteen-year olds marrying sixty-one-year olds. But it's legal, and it happens. Does it affect my life other than that? No. I hardly give it a thought.
And then I find this:
Two suspects accused of killing their 22-year-old friend said they got fired up to commit the murder by listening to Slipknot, police testified on Thursday.
Jason Lamar Harris, 20, and Amber Rose Riley, 16, are charged with stabbing Terry Ray Taylor more than 20 times and slashing his throat. Taylor's dead body was found on April 24.
Riley and Harris described the details of the killing and said they were listening to Slipknot before and after the murder.
Harris and Riley had been planning to kill Taylor for months.
[source]
This reminds me of how the Columbine shootings were stupidly attributed to Marilyn Manson and black trenchcoats.
Holy shat. Why is this world so full of f-ckin' IDIOCY! On the left, some arsehole abusing his power to classify members of an unchosen lifestyle as less than human; on the right, adult media being blamed for a general lack of common sense in two teenage jackoffs.
I listen to Slipknot religiously, and I stop and pick up animals I've accidentally hit with my car. I play violent videogames, but feel guilty killing a bug. Seems any idiot can get away with murder by blaming it on the media these days. Like the guy that shot a bunch of people because he thought he was in The Matrix. Or the bullies on the playground that claimed they were the Power Rangers in that wide-spread controversy several years back when people actually gave two shats about the show. Or the classic Columbine case, claiming they were troubled because of their taste in music and clothing. Well, I like black trenchcoats and I feed stray kittens. Nice little strategy: my parents raised me well and I have more than the two point four brain cells Bush has. Overly-conversative old dumbass politicians.
And on gay marriage, I say what I always say, and this is directed to all you holier-than-thou haters: Will it really affect anyone's lives but the gay people and their families if gay marriage becomes legal? Repeat after me: NOOOO. The answer is no, no matter what you may think. You won't see a bunch of gay people crawling out of the woodwork and rubbing your face in the fact, they won't be taking any of your married-couple rights away from you. If anything, when they get what they want, they'll go away and leave you alone. Isn't that what you want? For the gay people to go away? Give them what they, as loving human beings, deserve, and they will have no need to frequently and loudly protest. They might even give loving homes to the children waiting in adoption shelters while straight couples often selfishly choose to mix their fluids in tubes and stick needles in themselves to have a child sporting their own precious genes.
Elizabeth Cady Stanton once said something like, Every positive step mankind has made forward, religion has been there to oppose. This is the same. At one time, rights were denied to Protestants, women, people of colour, whites that wanted to marry people of colour, homosexuals, homeless people, suspected "witches," let's not forget the POWs at Guantanamo, Communists, protestors, flag-burners, immigrants, people without health insurance, divorcees, children, people that weren't blond with blue eyes, the Jews, the Polish, handicapped people, and gypsies.
Oh, I threw those last few on there because HITLER HATED THEM. Bush, you FUCKING NAZI.
I will be eternally grateful to Joel for letting me rip his copy of Linkin Park's Meteora. It's an excellent CD. I'd forgotten how much I love that band. I definitely recommend 'From the Inside' and 'Lying From You.' 'Nobody's Listening' is unique and damn catchy, too. A rap song I like! That is so rare, it's not even funny. But why would it be? What a dumb expression. I've decided that English is a stupid language.
I love tossing my hair around. I love my hair black. Love, love, love it. I feel so much older and sexier. I want to start buying pony falls, though, for those days I feel like being wild-coloured and gothy. Pony falls, for the uninformed, are those crazy fake dreadlocks.
I also love pictures that show off just my lips and chest.
I want a new webcam.
I have Stephie's letter all ready to go to the post, all but it being in a labelled envelope. This is just a reminder to do that tonight or tomorrow morning so it can catch the morning mail delivery.
Postage to the States costs me, as a Canadian, almost twice it costs a Yankee to send me a letter. Wanky dollar exchange. I think Canada ought to adopt the Euro. Or the States should take up our money, 'cause it's colourful! Euros are colourful too. Yay for colour.
One time my mom was in Florida and a little girl asked her if we had money in Canada. Yeesh. Public schools are bad these days.
Well, I'm off to retool a few sections of my site. This entry was for you, Adam. 'Cause you wanted me to update. So you better comment. (smiles) Or I'll fling flaming monkey feces at you! But, yeah, hope you enjoyed the skanky pic of me in chain-mail.
Whore. I hate the word. I hate it.
I'm not a whore! I'm just like you, a flawed human being who has thoughts, makes mistakes, bleeds red blood. So I hurt you very badly with one of my big mistakes. I don't expect you to see the other side of that coin, nor sympathize with me when I explain it to you here: that I also hurt myself very badly, by making the mistake, by realizing that I'd made it, by putting off stopping, and by hurting you with its breaking news. You... actually, all of you who have claimed to love me more than anything have put me through the most and the worst pains I can recall. The worst moments of my life thus far have been caused by love. No, by my failure in knowing how a relationship should work, failing to give you what you wanted, despite probably knowing what it was. Caused by my selfishness. Caused by me.
I have no one to blame for this death trap but me. I have no man to point the finger at for cheating on me; I was the cheater. I have no man to hate for dumping me so harshly and dating my best friend; that, too, was my role. I have to hate myself. Do you know how much harder it is to hate yourself than to hate someone else? You can avoid the someone else; I have to live, day after day, minute after minute, with a person I hate.
The man I walk as is the man I hate.
And I often want to kill her. Wrap my hands around her throat and scream, What the f-ck have you turned me into?! I look at myself in the mirror every morning while brushing my hair, and I wonder, I hate what I have become, I wonder how I've come so far from who I am inside - who I was inside, back when I was myself - and I hate that I have. The hair dye, the eyeliner, the tight shirts and bondage shorts, it's all falsity, all disguise, all a pretty mask for the crap, the void of soul I hide inside me. There's nothing there. Only some impulses that make me smile at some times and cry at others. The former make you think I love you, when really I'm like a mantis, aren't I? I'm out to play with and then brutally decapitate you. Please, don't get attached to me, I'm nothing but an insect, deserving to meet the thin slice of space between a rock and the sole of a shoe.
As I suspected, the package was Dad's stupid welding helmet. But I did get Stephie's letter!
I bore myself.
I just read Joel's imood. I made him feel bad somehow. I know it was me. And I bet it was because I snuggled with Adam on the couch under a blanket during Smackdown last night. Joel was sharing the couch with us, and he was being very quiet, very distant. He didn't even return the gesture when I stuck out my tongue at him, like he usually does.
I should have straightened my hair this morning. One side has a huge crimp in it from me sleeping on it when it was wet, and I think it looks like shit, though, as usual, I've been assured that it looks fine. Did it look fine, Joel? I meant to ask if you liked....
Meh, I'm going to update my site, or something. Maybe put up a couple pictures of myself I have sitting on my hard drive.
I feel kind of icky, and lonely, and sad. Adam gave me a rose today. The card said "With Love: 1 more for the road."
Wow, today sure is crawling. I kind of don't want to go to Joel's tonight. I kinda wanna curl up in bed and cry. Or beat the piss out of people in Smackdown. Funny, a couple nights ago I was playing a randomly-decided Season mode match with one of my female characters, and Adam's green-haired character happened to be one of my opponents, and I couldn't bring myself to beat on him.
That's not true. I never want to cry. I hate crying. But I feel like it right now.
Breakups suck arse.
It's the rag talking. I hope.
I wonder how Adam's doing... though I probably don't want to find out. Love you, babe.
I hate having to wait an hour after class for my father to pick me up. I hate getting here an hour and a half early. Grr, I thought going to school in the city would let me get some extra time at home, in bed or puddling around in the afternoon, but no, it just gives me less time on a bus and more time on a laptop waiting for time to pass and anyone to come online.
That package had better be something I consider fun.
Adam and I were eating lunch in the food court and a truck went by with some kind of cleaning tank on the back that said "Ditch Witch." Heh. Ditch Witch. Naturally, I've come up with a profound personal meaning, and plan to use the phrase somewhere on the Web. Perhaps a screen name. Don't steal it, then, you monkeys. (shakes fist)
Uh... bye.
A package came in, but we don't know if it's for me or my father. Hope to find out later tonight. I hope it's for meee... or Joel's chain-mail shirt, which I plan to model for a few days first. Canada Post has reached a "tentative agreement" on their demands, so hopefully they get their asses in gear. I sent out a money order for my skirt on July 18, which I learned this morning hasn't gotten to its destination. It better not have gotten lost. I don't want to buy another one.
Stupid Canada Post. Death to you. Deeeeeath! Gimme my mail. I'm starting to worry. I've never had anything get lost in the mail - well, a stupid thing of hair dye that sucked anyway - but I don't want my important stuff that I want, to get lost.
I redid Sienne last night. I gave her fishnets, jean shorts, chunky-heeled buckle boots, fishnet tank top, fishnets on her arms, and dominatrix chains. She looks... unlike the rest now, less like what I'd like to look like and more "hardcore dirty punk." She was half-bald for awhile, though I've since exchanged that for a choppy short cut, black with highlights of blue. She needed new moves, too, so I'm working on hers. My aunt Maddy watched me piss around in Create mode for awhile; she was delighted, giggling or making awed notes over some of the cooler-looking moves or features in Create > Appearance. It felt good to be so entertaining by being so boring.
Reminder to self: Change Cassie's name to K'sondra.
I've rooted up some things to sell on eBay. I'll scope out possibly setting up a page for them once I get pictures of them all.
Blech... now, off to learn Java I go.
I made a new layout for sevengem.net. Y'all let me know what you think, alright?
Damn Canada Post. Quit being on strike! I want my stuff to come in the mail! The only two things I've gotten in the mail recently - have they been letters? Nooo. Or my stuff I ordered online? Scratch that, too. I got a bill from Revenue Canada and a Bill Impending notice from Canada Student Loans. Fuck you, postal service. Fuck you deep into the ground. Give me the stuff I waaant!
My last rose from Adam is beginning to show its wear. Every time I look at that rose, I get sad. I still loves him good.
i've got you bound
and this is real;
you're really fighting
this isn't a game to you
at least not anymore
when the cuffs first clicked you had a grin
upon your lips
where is it now?
it's morphed into a grimace
over tightly clenched teeth
attempting to hold back
your beautiful noises of
pleasure and pain
but what are you fighting
not to do?
i play innocent,
pretending not to know
what's threatening to take you over:
your ultimate pleasure
ending the pleasure aspect of the feeling
and your weakness
turning into a strength
that's making you want to break the chains
and break into me
go ahead,
strain upward, lover
you won't escape
i've got you bound
it's still my turn
and you lose another every time you resist
because i love it too much when you resist
to want to quit the game
and you don't get to quit
until you've been hit with everything i have
until your body can't handle the touch
and mine can't handle the lack of anything
but the touch of your voice
now you win one hand,
free from the now warm metal
but not from my rule
put that in my hair,
pull me down
and ravage me
-
That one's mine.
My favourite of the two new poems I wrote July 15. I haven't yet decided if they're too personal for my site.
woke up to find
I lost my mind, lost heart, lost nerve
I lost my favourite word -
Emily
oh god
my heart feels froze
I've lost something, it seems
I've misplaced my favourite thing -
Emily
where does love go
if it can't find a home
one moment here, then gone
with no forwarding address
love no longer has a house
or residence in flesh
to outrun this
man, I'd have to go real far
where mercy wears lace
and bottles are thieves
which of these took you from me,
Emily?
I face myself
but there's this draft inside
parts of me drowned in perpetual tide
I wanna call names
I wanna throw things around
but no bar can buy
forgiveness another round for
Emily
I go to the bedroom
turn on the light
it's like an empty altar
no angel in sight
religion with no temple
no place to take my worship to
no god for my eyes to see
no fruit to lay at the feet of
Emily
gone
gone
-
I will let you undress me
but I warn you I have thorns like any rose
but I'm lost to you now
and there's no amount of reason
that could save me
feels like being underwater
now that I've let go and lost control
water kisses fill my mouth
water fills my soul
so break me
take me
just let me feel your arms again
break me
make me
just let me feel your love again
-
Perfect.
Lyrics from Jewel's 'Emily' and 'Break Me,' respectively.
In the car on the way home from school, two flies fucked on my leg.
Speaking of which, I now have pretty black and red toenails. The big, fourth and fifth toes are black-nailed, the second and third red. I'm weird that way. Just like combining colours. Anyway, I think they are hot. I hope it's warm enough tomorrow for me to show them off. It's supposed to rain all week, though, and all weekend. Rats.
I may go to Halifax this weekend to visit my brother. If I do, I'll have to take some money and do some shopping downtown. And my camera to take pictures of the boardwalk and such. I haven't been to Halifax in years. It's gorgeous.
I'm thinking of starting a website where people can enlist me to break up with their S.O.s for them. Then I'll hire an associate to carry out all of my own personal breakups.
Then, of course, I will own the world. Muahaha.
Jack's coming to visit me at the end of August. He may even be around for my graduation, depending on the exact date of that. Awesome.
I want my ears pierced for my birthday.
I ate six slices of pizza and a chocolate-chip Pop-Tart for supper last night. Gooood pizza.
Meh, eat photos.
I hate myself so much I want to puke.
He dumped me again last night. I think we're together again. I'm so tired of this stupid loop, this bullshit.
I just can't live without you, I love you, I hate you, I can't live without you....
There are some things... that I'm willing to lose... but as it stands, I face losing everything, the things I'm not willing to lose included. I should have made him promise. I have nothing to hold him to now.
Three, I'll make you promise. You damn well better believe it.
I smashed into the back of an empty red SUV in the parking lot at ten-thirty this morning, after sleeping in and missing the span of classes between nine a.m. and then.
No visible damage to the SUV, though I never saw it before I ass-fucked it, so there could be. None to my car, so I snuck into a distant parking spot and hope to hear no more about it. Heehee!
I went to see Joel at work before this, before I finally dragged my ass into class two hours late. Tim Hortons was busy! I had to park back by the drive-thru, which is where he normally works and was today. I followed two cops in. One held the door for me. When I walk in, the employees recognize my blue hair and holler for Joel. Every time. I'm amused by that.
So he comes out. Cute, and his hair looks full of sweat. I don't imagine a cramped drive-thru booth is a particularly fun place to spend a hot day in uniform pants. I want to console him for his slight discomfort. Maybe lick his hairline, too.
I just told him to meet me at the mall at four, so we can spend a half-hour together before my promised movie date with my old friend Ally.
I like Ally enough, but you know how you just grow apart from people you used to be friends with back in a whole other chunk of schooling? She and I became friends in seventh grade because of our mutual love for Star Wars. We both still love the genre, but since our interests have both calmed from obsession to "eh, I'll watch a movie every once in awhile," so has our friendship, it seems, and I don't find myself really minding that fact.
It amazes me how much more patient I am with Joel for crimes he and Adam both commit. He failed his first attempt at the road test. Instead of what I did to Adam - sigh, feel disappointed, a little like he wasn't trying hard enough for me, and a bit angry that I'd still have to drive everywhere - I ruffled his hair and assured him that most everyone fails the first time, cheer up, you just need to practice a little more, are you okay? and even offered to practice with him. Sheesh. Seems a little desperate to get close with him. Perhaps I put too much pressure on Adam in my mind to be the perfect boyfriend.
I played Smackdown for multiple hours last night. Finished my season mode with Jessie as Undisputed Champion and started a new one with Edge. I'm doing alright - losing a few more than with my customized characters, but I'm slowly picking up his moves.
I redid Ginseng last night also. Put her in a red tank top ripped up the middle to the bottom of her chest, black shorts with blue and purple flames creeping up the sides, and pointy black boots with multiple buckles. She's black, with stark white hair that covers half of her face, silver eyes with a hint of violet in them, and huge arms peppered with tribal tattoos.
Speaking of which, I want spiky things!
I've been dreaming lately of smoking weed. They leave me craving joints in the mornings when I wake up from them. Not good.
I was so tempted to try the shit when Willie and Ryan were rolling blunts at Joey's camp, but Joel was looking at me as though I'd eaten shit, so I resisted.
Eh, I've had the same dreams about cigarettes, and I never started smoking those.
Good thing, too. Because I know, from past habits I haven't been able to break, that I'd be one of those people who wouldn't quit for a long, long time. (Scratching my legs raw, for example, and then five minutes later scratching some more - or touching the ceiling of my car when a car with one headlight drives by. I've been doing that for ten years or more.)
I'm in an okay mood. I hope you can tell. I've been getting a lot of pity lately. I hope you givers are genuine, and not saying the things you're saying out of an imagined obligation. Because I don't need it; really, even after ranting and ranting about how bad my life sucks, how bad it hurts, I feel better after that, I know it could be worse, I know I'll be alright in the end. Though I do appreciate your kind words, I'm just saying, don't feel that you need to say something "appropriate," because by the time I've clicked Post, I'm in a different mood, and I can handle whatever you might have to throw.
My boyfriend got to draw a naked dude in school today! I am jealous. I totally want to draw old naked dudes from life.
I wonder if nude models ever pop hard-ons. Maybe there's some kind of drug they take beforehand to prevent that.
You can't be expected to make a choice... there's no choosing involved... you can't dictate who your heart leads you to love. You can only sit back and listen for your heart to tell you the choice it has already made. I don't think time will make the decision for you.... I think that the decision is already set in your heart, and that time will only help to let you realize what you've chosen deep inside.
Damn that boy and his insight and huge IQ.
Adam starts school today. He's downstairs in a Photoshop class right now. Little bastard wank gets to learn Photoshop. I tell him, he'll be teaching me what he's learned when I want it.
He and his mom picked me up on their way in, so I got to sleep in a bit longer. His little Molly-dog sat in my lap on the way. The Mollyness. I love that dog.
Need to get $100 from my bank account tonight, so I can mail that damn money order tomorrow morning. I hope I don't get deadbeat feedback on eBay for taking so long to get my payment out. I really need a PayPal account. Signed up for one, but haven't gotten the confirmation number from the credit card statement yet to finalize my registration.
</reminders to self paragraph>
This blog is boring me. I need to do something to the layout. Or write actual content in it, that isn't crap.
I think maybe I'll do the front of my hair a specific bright reddish-pink, Manic Panic's Red Passion, and dye the rest black when my blue runs out.
Check out what I did.
Now, I don't know if I want to dye them a different colour. Purple, maybe, or red. Or red at the top, fading to purple. We'll see.
I feel as though I should clarify.
Adam dumped me after my confessions, yes. But, we are currently together, tentatively. He's not sure he wants that to stand, nor am I sure it should.
For one, I don't feel that I deserve him, nor does he deserve the kind of pain I've inflicted on him and probably, knowing my stupid self, will inflict upon him again. I do love him, but I think for his sake it would be best for him to leave me, to forget I even existed. He even said he wished he could go back in time and erase our relationship, keep it from ever happening, so he wouldn't have to hurt as he does now.
We're together, but it's not the same. It's not light and fun anymore... he's so fragile, and bitter. His moods change like my high school hair colours. Every time I turn around he has a new, tough question for me. I'm meeting him later to spend some time with him, and he sent me a list of five to be answered when we meet:
1. Does Joel know that you told?
2. What do you mean when you say "All that I have left to do is fuck him."?
3. How far did this thing go?
4. Why did you do it?
5. What do you expect me to do?
There's a little rose icon at the end of the e-mail, and under it, Love always, A.L.Cole. Ergh... the littlest things make me cry.... Joey used to put pepper in my Alpha-Getti.
I type this numbly. That's how I feel today: numb. God, how I long for the days in which I used to feel alive... happy, loved, and loving, secure of my future with one man. Oh, sure, it was probably just infatuation, hormones every time, but I love that high, and crave it again. I don't love now - I just care for, and pity. Love is too scarce a commodity in my heart... I have none for myself, and what I have to give away, I'm now afraid to.
wake me up inside... call my name, and save me from the dark... bid my blood to run before I come undone... save me from the nothing I've become.
You've got nothing on me anymore, Joey.
I fessed up to Adam. He ditched me.
That's all I want to say right now.
Note to self: Provide Steph details of the imood.
Joey: You are a hypocritical shit, and I wish I'd never made the mistake of trusting you. God forbid, I admit to a relationship flaw to someone who falls for fifteen-year-old girls on the Internet. Someone I thought could be a better friend to me.
Go, be a good friend to Adam. The guy who stole your girlfriend away. The guy you claimed to hate for that reason, prayed would dump me when we first got together, whose many nights you plagued with my tears caused by your blood-stained letters. You really fuckin' loved him then.
I will handle this in my own time. In the meantime, feel free to butt the fuck out. This is none of your business! I asked you to have heard nothing because I don't expect you to care anymore. After all, you admit it yourself, you don't care about anyone's feelings but your own. The only reason you want this stopped is so your guilt will go away, not because you give two shits about Adam.
You hurt people, too, you know. When did you last call your mother? How about that time you grabbed my wrist and twisted it, a look of blind rage in your eyes I'd seen you use on others, but never thought I'd see directed at me? And let's not forget your major relationship flaw: you pretended to love a mixed-up young girl, and when she got so attached to you that I swear she would die to keep you living, you blocked her, "let her think you were dead," and fucked some girl you hardly know. You could have gotten AIDS and fucking died. You could have gotten her pregnant. Sure, she claimed to be on the Pill. So do women in soap operas. And they show off the packs, too.
If you're going to throw my flaws into my face, I'll fire back with yours. Stop pretending to be the damn perfect human being here. Melt back into your self-absorbed little world and stay out of mine if you can't stay out of my personal affairs. I will end this thing with Adam if I feel it needs to be ended. I will end the thing with Joel, likewise. I will handle this myself. I don't need you or anyone else telling me what's right and what's wrong, because I, contrary to your popular belief, am not stupid, I know the difference between the two.
And don't you dare ever fucking PRESUME to know how I feel about Adam. I do love him. Because I sure didn't go running back to you when I saw you hurting and hurting yourself.
I hate you. God, I hate you. I hate you and Adam and Joel and fucking everyone. I love Rae. And Stephanie. The rest of you sit on your thumbs and suck your own cocks. I'm done with all of you fucking (spits) men. Babies, all of you! Grow some balls! If you want this to stop, Joel, stop giving in to it. Instead of meeting my lips, how about you smack me one? Come on. I give you permission to look away from the pain in my eyes. I guarantee I'll get the message: stay away. Like a dog running into an invisible fence.
And you, Joey, instead of using your only platform of leverage against me, instead of blackmailing me to do what's "right" by your definition (and you, thinking the concepts are so black and white (spits)), how about you smack me one? You and I both know it's what you want. You have no problem treating me like shit now, like you treat the rest of your so-called "friends." Evidenced by the wrist-grabbing incident. And even you say, you'd pinch any of their asses as quick as you'd pinch mine. Come on, just smack me one right across the face. Train me. Like a disobedient dog, like a bitch.
Adam has permission to smack me several, because I deserve it. One thing we can all agree on here is that I'm the bad guy, I'm the horrible human being, I'm the bitch that needs to be smacked, and you all want to do it, for your own reasons, you know it. I'm the one causing all this hell, I'm the centre of the tornado, playing calm, innocent, but unlike that unliving thing, I know the truth. I know I'm the villian, I'm the cause of it all, I'm the one the good guys need to kill. Come on, assholes, kill me. I'm taunting you, challenging you, daring you, begging you, even. Kill me! Because you fucking know you want to.
Go ahead and kill me. I deserve it, though it's not what I want. I deserve it so much, and I've never been one to settle for less than I deserve. If you don't do it, I'll do it myself. I am doing it myself. A bit more of my innocent old self dies off with each and every passing moment, each and every passing day, and this new self that I hate smiles and watches it suffer in the drain, maybe turns on the water so it suffers less, dies faster, but always laughing, laughing, and keeping the rest of that admirable old self in its prison in one corner of my mind, screaming. You don't know me, just as I readily admit I don't know you, and after this I'm not sure I want to know you, or should have ever known you. As now I hate you all. Come on. Come on... come on! Get on with it. Kill me. Get the fuckin' knife out and drive it through my heart or shut up and go fuck yourselves.
And that, as Adam wrote in his blog earlier, is my rant for the day.
Adam starts school with me on Monday. I hope we get the same noon hour. He has an orientation session at the school tomorrow evening to which I've agreed to accompany him.
The fireworks last night were great. About a ten-minute show, and tons of people were there. We secured a grassy spot big enough to spread out our two blankets and lie down, in the corner created by the river and the tape marking off the shooting zone. The explosions went off right over our heads, it seemed. The night was beautiful and clear and after the show, we spent some time prowling the rocks that make up the sloping shore, chucking some into the water, watching lit-up boats cut through the peaceful water and the spire in the bridge pier shoot its jets and clouds of mist.
I ripped two CDs from Joel. Rock. I need to colour my hair again.
Speaking of which, my brother chopped off all of his gorgeous hair. He does it every summer; though he hates to do so, he finds the shag bothersome in the extreme heat. I took pictures of it in the days before its disappearance, but they haven't gone out to be developed yet, and won't for awhile.
My little cousin Jack was recently introduced to a cousin-once-removed named Emily. She's in her twenties and was visiting from New York. Upon being told that her name was Emily, he eyed her with confusion and wondered, "Where Emily blue hair?" (smiles) I feel special.
I've got my brother on hooking up the Zip drive to our PC with the burner. If he can do that, I can burn all this Evanescence stuff onto a couple of CDs. And if I can continue to transfer the drive between the PC and my laptop, I can be burning CDs left and right. Bitchin'.
(after about an hour of struggling to install the driver) I need some fuckin' tech support. Shit. I hate computers.
New Keswick slang seems to be: in this mosh, meaning, in on this. Example: Cole's been using it to ask if his Shut Your Mouth character is in the Royal Rumble. Am I in on this mosh? I've caught myself using it a few times as well.
- I am so sick of speaking words
that no one understands
I can hear you in a whisper
but you can't even hear me screaming
That lyric describes how I feel today.
Gotta get a money order to pay for Joel's shirt tomorrow. Also, gonna pick up some red dye. Putting it in on top of the blue I have ought to make the purple I want some of in my hair. To be safe, I'll do a strand test first.
Had some pictures to go along with this post, but Snapfish is currently not letting me upload them. I'll stick them in with my next post, or something.
Someone just called, Name: Private; Number: Private; Location: Unknown. I suppose I'd better log off, see if they call again.
I want to go back to believing in everything and knowing nothing at all.
I'm finally off my rag. Rewarded myself. Err, Eye Mott Forge Ol'.
Point-form notes of my day.
Went to the beach. Found lots of clams and buried Joel in sand. Gave him a seashell bra and Willie kept putting a big stick upright between Joel's sand "legs."
Storm developed just in time, after we'd had our share of the beach. Went for snacks at Esso. I had a Turtles ice-cream bar.
It stormed really hard. We watched from inside my house. Played pool while we dared not use excessive electrical appliances. When it lightened up, we resumed playing videogames.
Joel and Cole built a fort under the pool table. Quite an impressive fort. Joel and I spent some alone time in it, just talking and being quiet.
Fireworks tomorrow night.