213: New Link

As much fun as it would be to let my 20 week record stand, here I am again with another link, now to the tumblr. For those of you my Facebook friend (and really, shouldn't you all be my Facebook friend, what with it being the new Myspace and 'the' way to stay in contact with all those people you used to be able to just cut those damn ties with? Thanks internet), you've (maybe?) noticed how my Facebook has been super active-- that would be because I hooked up my Tumblr to post on my Facebook. So if I've destroyed your feed, sorry.


Is seeing the majority of the action lately.

Check it, if you're into that sort of thing.


(no subject)

Your result for Reincarnation Placement Exam...

Gypsy Camp

<s this is like showing i'm alive. only better, and with pictures


120: I'm Saving that One For Forever

Lest I forget, tomorrow is FREE COMIC BOOKS DAY, a day in which various comic book stores (independants mostly) around the nation and now the world give out free (mostly samples) comic books from a variety of major and indy labels, which I, as a red blooded (blue state living, soy/tofu eating, socialist democrat leaning) American heartily endorse. Anyway who doesn't is a bleeding heart Communist bastard and deserves to be shot in their democracy-hating, freedom-loathing, Red-flagged heart.

(end of telecast, onto Jim for weather)
  • Current Mood
    just ate cake
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119: Wake Me Up Before You Go Go

So I turn 18 tomorrow.
It's weird to think about that, since I guess I've felt 17/18 for years now and I keep trying to decide what makes one an adult exactly and whether or not that's anything I have control over. Is it deciding what rules you want to live by, the principles to guide your life? Is it something in your relations with others? Or is it something more, an awakening inside you in which you realize you are a Holden or Camus or something more, like all those coming of age novels by Chopin and more?
I guess parts of me wants something inside of me to change, to suddenly be more confident with myself, or comfortable in my skin, or suddenly aware that perhaps I do set myself up for failure and that it's ok to dispoint my parents once in a while. But then I think that maybe the realization that I have those fears, that I have those flaws and things to change about myself is what being an adult it. But then again, I could just be flattering myself and calling the whole "adult" thing quits.


Artist: Snow Patrol ft. Marth Wainright
Song Name:Set Fire to the Third Bar

Artist: Willy Mason
Song Name:Fear No Pain
  • Current Music
    America's Next Top Model
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74: Sir CallALittle

Ladies and Gents, I have a permit. (now I can start moaning about how I don't have a car).

Saturday= D-Day= Interrogation Day. There will be weeping. Best of luck to all.

I slept badly on my neck and shoulders a few nights ago, and it's only proceeded to get worse, almost like I just have this mass of cartiledge and scar tissue along my shoulder blades and resting on my collar bones.

I'm also turning my journal into friend-only. Why? I looked and I decided that I did not want to turn this into the Xanga fiasco, that is, suddenly find out that I'm a part of some online Metuchen ring or something. So cathy, natalie, and james, please get livejournalies.

Portia Storme: how about CanadianSpam? hahaha
Portia Storme: spam bots will think it's a trick.XD
mydenimkiss: true- and those who know me best will know I am refering to my love of all things cold, canned, and gelatin-like.

There were other things to be said but I feel much too British to say them.

Like that I have Creed stuck in my head. Is there any justice?
  • Current Music
    The Von Bondies- C'mon, C'mon

73: Monsieur Mind Melt

I forgot to mention, I came in first place for the 11th grade for the Edison Arts Society poetry contest. if you're in the Edison/Metuchen area on April 14th at 7 and want to head over to Barnes and Noble, check it out- I'll be there, reading, and hopefully this lyear (I won the 10th grade last year) there won't be all the "I cry on the inside because no but Hot Topic understands me" kids will have stayed home.

Plus, there are younger kids who write really cute poetry (the sixth to seventh graders) who are no probably the Angry Emo/Goth kids this year. That poem (the one mr. wag calls "the one with the crazy title with the word 'bamboozle'") is over at the lit journal too, because I'm cool like that.

So, in honor of procrastination, last night I wrote a third piece for the governor's school tryout and it's the first one I have half way liked. So I ask a favor of all: please look it over and edit as you will, no matter your opinion. if it sucks, inform me. If it kinda sucks, tell me. I've posted it here and at the lit journal(My Lit Journal, if you need the link), so edit where you will, but please, look it over. Thanks.

We Go to the Fire
I want maps. I want to bathe in street names
and translations of "Walk: Don't Walk". When Y2K
came I thought of stealing signs- the end to
technology would be the perfect excuse
to rip pages out of library books that ended in perfection,
in boredom. At 11 I was a pessimist, with a yearn for squalor.

I could set fire to the World Atlas and the
smoke that would rise like the hollow prayers
I whispered so my sister couldn't hear,
so she didn't know I was afraid of dying,
do she didn't know I believed in God.

I was ready for sodium tablets, after raising
myself on Jonny Quest, Captain Planet
and making the best of sitting alone.

I wasn't afraid of lost rocket ships (I look up
even now when planes pass overhead, and
imagine looking down and seeing me
looking up)
. I wanted drifting,
heading captainless into a safer eternity. Lightyears
sounded welcoming
, a journey to God, and whatever
it was about heaven that made secret
tears slide over my ears, itching
through my hair.

Those nights I wanted fingers
grubbing over my skin and rubbing where
the tear tracks has slid, obliterating
the railroads from what I culdn't admit
to myself to what I couldn't say I needed.

I wanted arms holding my hands
to my chest. I wanted words
I couldn't understand so there was no shame
in comfort, no shame in admitting I feared myself
and what I could be.

I want maps to tell me where I am,
to map out the path where I do not fail,
where I do not disapoint, where at the end,
someone is waiting with love.


In italics is what I think I need to work on.
Points for editing (that I can think of at the moment) (just things opinions on would be appreciated)
*Point of View- clear?
*any abstract ideas/images/nouns (I can only use 2 abstract nouns) ==> how/where can I clarify myself, if necessary?
*your response?

Thank you all and any.

I went out yesterday and bought a Belle and Sebastian (the Boy with the Arab Strap)CD, and the Boondock Saints. I was debating a Bob Dylan CD (since I keep being told to give up the grudge and listen to him, despite his pretention and inability to sing or recognize that he can't sing) that has the two Dylan songs I like ("Subteranean Homesick Blues", and "Groom's Still Waiting at the Altar", adn I know I've seen them on one CD before) but couldn't find it. B&S was probably the better buy anyway. I went looking for German poetry and found it under the Lesbian porn/lit. section which was nice, so thank you Borders for that awkward moment.

CD to Look into, on Principle
  • Current Music
    Belle and Sebastian- The Boy With the Arab Strap

71: I remember why I hate milk

Cereal and milk is not a good breakfast idea. Now that I've brushed my teeth three times, I still have the nasty milk taste in my mouth.

The opera is dirty. Dirty dirty dirty dirty dirty. Maybe because it was in English I could thus understand it but there were fake boobs, prostitution, cross dressing, violence, pink sheep, sex and more sex.

Lotus roots have made the ranks of Top Vegetables. Up there with watercress and mushrooms and small children. Er. Not small children.

Stuff. Calamity. Gov's school prompt is eating my brain.

Went for a 1.5 mile run this weekend. I think I'm covered for the rest of the month.
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69: (revert back to 8th grade, just for a moment)

This is ....weird. here I am thinking livejournal was all blockedy because of webscense but evidently- not. Maybe it's a St. Patrick's Day gift, so HAPPY SAINT PATRICK'S DAY! to all immigrants and non-immigrants alike. I was going to take today off, go into New York, both for seeing Miss Maggie and for seeing this "green beer" I hear causes so many hangovers. Going to probably read at least some of "Dubliners" today in honor.

In home things they suck (see needed day off). There's the sucking and then the gratuitous sucking which is like a pit of suckcity (think firebombed Dresden sucking).

moving on, I think I ripped off back of tongue last night, like the top layer thing, because I felt like something was stuck in the flesh. Fun times.

I start driving lessons the first day of break and finish them the next day. I'll only get my license three months late.

Went to the cardiologist. Sonno-grams or whatever of the heart, very much uncomfortable. Consensus? I strained the cartiledge of my sternum which inflamed the wall of my heart and the valves. WHAT?

Go mairir an céad, is bliain chun aithrí!

(may you live to be one hundred, and a year for repentence)
  • Current Music
    Neautral Milk Hotel

67: Me Without you

So, in honor of being "back online" two questions:
1. How can I get teh address bar (the thing I type the www. into, since I'm probably calling it the wrong thing) back on the top of the screen?
2. Is there a free version of IM out there? Somewhere?

To gloat, I'ma finalist for Gov.'s school for writing. Here's to intellectual elitism.

There was a lot of stuff I want to write about. how about someone tell sme how to make this computer work, and I'll make it worth your while?

....Or I can just beg. and whine. a lot

and offer up this:

(they really do- like the Used)

Starting a new story, with the goal of writing a high school story. (first paragraph adn all I have):
It was a solid hour before the permanent marker washed off her knuckles, or at least, the word ‘SLUT’ became a distant smudge. She had hid the offending hand in her sweatshirt when she walked in her door, pulling the sleeve down over her knuckles, her fingernails biting through the fabric into her lifeline. For the first few moments she had tried gamely to smile, but as she lost herself more and more in the task of clearing her skin, her mouth relaxed and the pounding of the water matched her heartbeat.
  • Current Music
    Neutral Milk Hotel