DATE: 13 Dec 2008, 6:54 pm / MOOD: Other

Yeah. Not just my day. My freaking life.

So today, I got to wake up nice and late... At about 11... Went to Quiznos with the family... And then...

 

The Trans-Siberian Orchestra concert. Ooh yeah. It was amazing. It had lasers, strobes, pyrotechnics, amazing lighting effects... And of course one of the best bands kn own to man.

 

And... The part that really made my life? Well.. Through the whole show they kept saying. "Stay to the end. You will regret it for all of your life if you don't. Stay to the end. We have an amazing surprise for you at the end." So, of course, I'm all like, "Oh my gosh. That's gotta be a fricking amazing surprise. Not many things to regret for the rest of your life..." And.. It was. It was Steve Tyler. Steve fricking Tyler!Oh my fucking God. I went to see TSO, and I got the bonus of all bonuses. He performed Sweet Emotion and Dream On for us. It was fucking amazing.

It was kinda funny though, 'cause both me and my mom got to our feet screaming like some middle-school fangirls. And my brother (ten years old) looked all embarrassed and tried to pull us down.

 

Anyway. Just thought you should know. ^__^

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DATE: 28 May 2008, 12:21 pm / MOOD: Disappointed

Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.

- "Not Waving But Drowning" by Stevie Smith

My body fails me, my mind cannot grasp any line thrown towards me, my confused heart grabs a sinking stone, though that stone does not sink half as fast as my soul.

Does no one see me? Does no one care?

Perhaps I'm blowing this out of proportion. Freaking out like I did yesterday when my left arm refused to work properly. That still hasn't turned into anything big. Perhaps I will survive after all.

But, will I survive through all these lies? Without them, where are my allies? Miles and miles away. Too far out to save me. With them, where are my friends? Miles and miles away too far out to save me.

And with no truth, how will anyone know to save me? How will they know that I'm not actually waving... But drowning?

Perhaps I'll fade away, an Unkown Citizen.

Was he free? Was he happy? The question is absurd:
Had anything been wrong, we should certainly have heard.
- "The Unknown Citizen" by W.H. Auden

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DATE: 24 Jan 2008, 10:39 am / MOOD: Confused

If any of you know my home phone number and my name, I need to know now. Please tell me. I just want to know who called me last night.

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DATE: 30 Oct 2007, 2:00 pm / MOOD: Disappointed

Dear Gothopia,

I regret to inform you that I'm not doing too well in school right now, so I'm not going to be on much for a while. I will try to find a way to be on during the Killing Spree, naturally... But, every other day from now until I get my grades up I will be probably be offline.

Why have I been doing so badly, you may ask. Well, honestly... It's because I'm a lazy little procrastinating slacker. I know everything that we're doing... I just don't do my work. Why don't I do my work? Because I want to talk to my friends and roleplay and play my flute and do all sorts of silly nonsense. Yes, I know it's silly nonsense... But, it's infinitely more entertaining than f(x)=|x+5|+|x-2|+8 or ¿Como se pueden ayudarlos? or even "Draw a detailed diagram of the network you think our school runs on."

Anyway.. Enough excuses. What's done is done and now I need to conecentrate on my work. (However boring it may be.) Anyone who has my cell phone number is free to call me. (Though, preferably after nine.) And, if anyone else must needs talk to me... I will still be checking my email regularly. My email address is hieizgirl2000@hotmail.com

Sincerely Yours,
Alabang

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DATE: 16 Jan 2007, 1:41 pm / MOOD: Other

It’s funny how you remember some things as clear as day and others are just too fuzzy to make out. That’s the way I remember the day. I only start really remembering sometime around when the dinner crowd comes in.

 

I had an appointment with Dr. Hale that day, and I had to get out of work during the dinner rush. Tony obviously could’ve killed me for it. There was no way in hell he wanted me going to my “shrink’s” during the dinner rush on a Friday night. I remember that conversation very clearly. Tony tried to stop me.

“Whatsamattah wid you, huh?”

“Nothing.”

“You got a head on yah shoulduz?! It’s the dinnah rush and we’re a pizzeria!”

“I know, but this is really important, Tony.”

“Important, imshmortant! Can’t you make an earlier appointment or somptin?”

“No…”

“Whattammy s’possed to do without my smart employee?!”

“You’ve got Mario…”

“You call that smart?”

“I call it close.”

“I don’t need close, I need – ”

“Uh… Listen Tony, I’ll call up Mikey or someone… But, I gotta go.”

“Eh… Fine. Get outta here ‘fore I change my mind…”

“See ya, Tony!”

 

I grabbed a jacket, rushed out, and caught a bus.

 

Just to backtrack a little, I know that you probably are wondering about that “office Christmas party” and, I know we’re no office… But, the point was, I was doing well. I was doing very well. Now, where was I? Oh yeah.

 

I grabbed my jacket, rushed out, and caught a bus to Doctor Hale’s office. The bus ride going there was really fuzzy. I remember getting on and getting off. That's pretty much it. If I had to describe the person who sat next to me, because he'd committed some heinous crime... I'd have wished the cops luck at finding him.

 

Anyway, so, I got to Doctor Hale's office. It was a pretty place, one of those uptown, high-end buildings. He had a secretary, a waiting room, and some magazines and newspapers, like the Times and the New Yorker, on a coffee table to occupy those patients who had to wait for him. I picked up today’s copy of the Times, found a seat by the wall, shed my jacket, and started going through some articles. There was some story about a shooting outside a Chase on the West Side. Reading it carefully, I wondered what this city was coming to. Then, I realized my name was being called.

 

“Kelly Turner? Doctor Hale will see you now.”

 

I stood up and put the Times down on the coffee table in the waiting room. Picking up my jacket, I made my way to the door and turned the knob.

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DATE: 16 Jan 2007, 1:25 pm / MOOD: Other

It is dark. You've just been awoken by your dearest friend. Bleary-eyed, you glace at a clock and note the time. Midnight has past hours ago. In a daze, you inquire as to why you've been awakened during the dead of night. She tells you quickly that she has dealt you a deadly dosage of rattlesnake venom, with the hopes of getting the fortune which would be left to her in your will. She now realizes how horridly evil she was and does not want you to die. She has found the antidote and wants you to take it. At the brink of hysterics, she implores you to please take the syringe from her gloved hand and administer the antidote to yourself...

Do you take it?

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DATE: 12 Jan 2007, 7:52 am / MOOD: Full of life

Christian by Maya Angelou

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not shouting "I'm clean livin."
I'm whispering "I was lost,"
Now I'm found and forgiven.

When I say..."I am a Christian"
I don't speak of this with pride.
I'm confessing that I stumble
and need CHRIST to be my guide.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not trying to be strong.
I'm professing that I'm weak
and need HIS strength to carry on.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not bragging of success.
I'm admitting I have failed
and need God to clean my mess.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not claiming to be perfect,
My flaws are far too visible
but, God believes I am worth it.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I still feel the sting of pain,
I have my share of heartaches
So I call upon His name.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not holier than thou,
I'm just a simple sinner
who received God's good grace, somehow.

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DATE: 06 Sep 2006, 5:41 pm / MOOD: Other

I have come to the comclusion that we are all, all of us, very much like glass. Whether it can be seen immediately or not is not important, for sometimes truth is hidden. However that is not the matter at hand! The matter at hand is that we are all in some way like glass.

This is not to say that we are all quite breakable. By no means, No! Many are strong and many others are "breakable" It is similar to the difference between "bullet-proof" glass window which is thick and very hard to break and the thin crystal of a goblet. The people who are very breakable are easily bent to the will of another or easily reduced to a public display of extreme emotions that one would usually hope to keep private. These are the people who are comparable to the crystalline glass of a goblet. Those who are harder, more rigid, stubborn, strong-willed,or even tough are they who are like to the thick bullet-proof panes which are in the homes of those wealthy high profile persons.

Strong and weak glass are not the only categories for a person to fall into, however. What of the glass of spectacles? Those which allow a person to see in a different, if not better, way? Is this glass not like to those influences on ourselves which change our very ways of thinking so that all that is around us appears to be different?

There is more! Much more!

There is the glass of a magnifying glass, which is like an intelligent, analytical person who seeks to know all of what is within their sights before moving on to the next thing. In the same way, the magnifying glass sees one particular spot, examining it and bringing every part of it to view before the glass itself is moved.
Then, there is the glass of a mirror, which reflects all that is around it, much like an easily influenced person.

As I look farther, it seems to me that the comparisons could go on forever. Or, at least for every type of glass, and for every use of glass. The window, the glass vase, stained glass, broken glass, a glass greenhouse! Every one of these can be compared to a person! The possibilities seem to be near endless!

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DATE: 05 Mar 2006, 2:58 pm / MOOD: Other

Here we go.. for some reason I couldn't get this off my mind.
A while back I did something that really broke one of those unsaid family rules. You know, the kind that you just are supposed to know. Not a very smart thing to do.. but then again it's me.
My mom did what she always did. Told me off till I cried, then told my dad when he got home.
My dad got home when I was almost asleep. When he found out.. well things weren't too pretty. He hit me, asking me what I thought I was doing and whenever I opened my dumbass-mouth to explain, he hit me straight across the face.
After a while of sobbing and being hit I did something I never thought I could do... I caught his hand and told him that before he hit me I just wanted him to know that I didn't regret it. I couldn't regret it anymore. What's done is done, and even though I gave him full permission to beat me till I was bloody and broken; it wouldn't change a damn thing.
Well.. He left me in a sort of bewildered state. Sincerely apologized a half-hour later and never has hit me again.
I don't know why I kept thinking of it though...

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