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I think that was the name of a perfume line in the soap opera
All My Children
. I used to love that show and watch it almost religiously. I am so behind in the episodes now, and there are so many new characters that if I were to watch it Monday, I would have no clue what was happening. I hate TV in general now; itís so much bullshit. The media is one of the most untrustworthy things in the world, next to politicians. I canít wait for this election to be over so we can see who won.
End of All Hope
That reminds me of the Stephen Crane poem we were reading in class, the one that talked about God lying dead in heaven. The professor asked us to do a free-write about it, and I said that if God really was dead in heaven, it would be the end of all hope for many people. It would be different if the poem said ďBuddha lay dead in heavenĒ or ďConfucius lay dead in heavenĒ or even ďChuck Norris lay dead in heavenĒ. That poem still fascinates me and makes me wish I could write like that.
Endless Nights of Wonder
That sounds sexual, or it could be a biblical reference just as well. It sounds like a time where the sun is always up or the stars are constantly changing position in the sky, or maybe even when there are natural fireworks or the Lord lit up the night with beauty and splendor. It could be the auroras or something like that. ďEndless nights of wonderĒ sounds like something that happens at Disneyland or Disneyworld. Itís a night of wonder when I finish another set of 1668 words. I canít wait to see what I get!
The presidential race was a hard-fought battle, and it came with much endurance on the part of the candidates. They all performed exceptionally well, and took their wins and losses graciously. I know God picked the right men and women for the jobs, even if we donít know his reasoning behind the choices. I suppose the nation will have to see what is going to unfold, and pray for a time when our problems will be solved. I have faith in God and in the candidates, so Iím not too disappointed, but I did know that it would happen.
Iím still envious, but not toward any person in particular. I know my envy comes from low self-esteem, and the type of people I attract comes from that. I know that it is my number one tragic flaw, and Iím doing all I can to defeat it before itís too late. This is why I keep too much to myself. I feel like the more I tell people, the more they know about me and the more they can use against me to crush me. I try not to let anyone know when I am hurt or feeling discomfort.
The emergency signal is going off in my room and itís annoying because itís just a drill and I donít have to escape the building. The thing keeps saying the same thing over and over and flashing with an annoying light that I can see even when my back is turned. It is loud enough to be useful in an emergency, but it would scare the hell out of me if it happened while I was asleep. Iíd have that mechanical voice in my ears, right over my head. Iíd have nightmares for weeks. Iím easily disturbed like that.
I love this word. It means hard to explain, or hard to understand. When I was in eleventh grade, a quite naÔve sixteen-year-old, I wrote a poem called ďEsotericĒ. I donít know if I got the meaning right, but I didnít care. It was the sounds of the words that made me write the poem. It was the satisfaction of knowing that most of the student body didnít know what the word meant and I did. It was the fun of playing with the English language and toying with it. I wish I could still play with words unashamedly.
It should only be used for animals, never for people. Iím Catholic and I am pro-life in nearly all cases. Euthanasia is a funny word because the prefix ďeuĒ is Greek and means ďgoodĒ or ďbeneficialĒ. Itís fine for putting an animal out of its misery at the end of its life or when itís badly hurt, but not for people. People have a certain dignity that animals donít have. People have souls. People have a choice. I donít know if people should be euthanized even when they ask for it. Thatís like putting them in a God position.
There is no such thing as happily ever after for some people. Sometimes life is cruel. Sometimes the best people are taken away, causing confusion, disbelief, and sorrow. Sometimes, you feel like you canít wake up and the horror keeps coming. These are the times when you turn to God, when you put all your worries and fears on his shoulders and let him take them from you. I miss her, and I know everyone will. Her family is mourning, and Iím doing the best I can to pray for her friends, family and co-workers to be strong.
Every Dog Has His Day
Itís probably a dead metaphor, because I donít remember or know the origin of it. Email me if you do, because it doesnít make any sense. Why isnít it just ďeveryone has his dayĒ, or to be politically correct, ďeveryone has their dayĒ? Dogs arenít the only ones who have their days, and I donít think many dogs have a good day all the time. My dog is bulimic. She eats grass every day and barfs. None of these days are really her days. Maybe a dogís only good day is his birthday. Who knows?
Everyone Has a Secret
Thatís a pretty true statement. I keep secrets all the time. I have so many, and there is so much that people donít know about me. I prefer to keep secrets as a kind of safeguard against people knowing who I really am. I feel (function of insecurity) that if I reveal too much, the person I reveal it to is going to betray me. Secrets protect me, but they may also be lies. A lie is not telling the truth, and a lie is also leaving out relevant details. That makes me a big liar.
Everything changes, but nothing changes. The world is essentially the same as it was in the beginning. We still have wars, we still fall in love, we still have sex, we still have children, we still die, we still get sick, etc. We have the same emotions we had thousands of years ago, we have the same drive to live, the same hormones and biological processes, but we differ in technology, and awareness. This awareness can lead us to destroy the world, to try and help it. We can change the world itself, but we cannot change humanity.
The evidence is everywhere. Itís on his face, and in his eyes and everywhere. Heís evil, and Iím making that too obvious for my readers. I want my readers to wonder whether this character is really evil or good, or just a pain in the ass. I want this particular character to be an enigma, like the person I based him from. I donít see that happening in the story because I feel like Iíve given too much away already. Thatís what revision is for, I suppose. I canít wait to revise this, but itís going to be difficult.
Such a broad topic. There is so much evil in this world, and I wish there was something I could do about it. The only thing I can really do is be nice and kind to everyone I meet and hope I can make someoneís day better just by making someone laugh or smile, or even just being there for them. I think if more people do those little things, the world would be a better place, and there would be a reduction in some types of evil. Realistically, I know it will never be completely eliminated. That sucks.
Evil Can Be Cute
Yes, itís true. That reminds me of an anime picture I found on Google (phear the cute onez) and an episode from tenth grade. I was trying to incorporate some of tenth grade into the story, and I realized that it would be a whole different story in itself to do after this one. Now in December I am going to have yet another story to revise and fix and make the best it can be. I also have a few 1300 word short stories and I need criticism. I donít know how good they are.
I have high expectations of myself. I just feel that everyone is somehow better than me, and there is nothing I can do to catch up to where they are. Iíve been feeling incompetent ever since I got to college in 2006. Iíve drifted in and out of those feelings, but I donít know if theyíll ever completely go away. I wonder what I have to do to finally feel competent and to finally have high self-esteem. Thereís probably nothing that would work, except leaving this epoch of the axiomatic principles of my shyness. It doesnít help onanists.
I remember playing Unreal Tournament. That was a great stress reliever. When you let off the Redeemer and it made everything in the vicinity explode (sometimes even causing self-destruction), that was a great feeling. But only in a video game, where nobody really dies. They just respawn and fight like they had not just been blown to bits in their previous life. I miss Unreal Tournament (the GOTY edition), but if I installed it now, it would only serve as a procrastination tool. With only a few weeks left in the semester, I do not need anymore of those.
I remember one day in biology and someone asked the teacher why everyoneís irises were different colors. The teacher said something like ďitís because of geneticsĒ, but I donít think that was the personís question. Why are the irises colored? Why are some peoplesí eyes blue and others brown? Why arenít some peoplesí eyes yellow or purple? Why do we have the colors we have? Why arenít the irises just a neutral color like black or white? Why are they colored? This is starting to sound like one of my roommateís ďwhyĒ poems, so I think Iíll shut up.
I want my eyes unclouded, but itís hard. The world and especially the media put out all these images that blind you to reality and make you believe falsities. Nobody likes being lied to, but nobodyís really brave enough to stand the truth either. Iím trying to make myself more brave, especially when it comes to people telling me what they really think about me. Iím tired of being lied to and Iím tired of being told half-truths. Iím not a kid anymore, even though I may act like one. I can handle things. Iím not a baby.
I remember hearing that word in a book I read when I was in the eleventh grade. I donít remember exactly when. It may have been the tenth grade. It was an interesting word because I never knew exactly how to pronounce it or exactly what it meant. The little dictionary thingy says that itís one side of the exterior of the building. I thought it was a cover-up for something. Like someone is putting on a fake face. I think it might have two meanings, like a lot of words. Playing with all those double meanings is funÖ
Facing the Inner Demons
I have demons to face. And Iíve just been dubbed a bad girlfriend because I donít put out, and because I canít spend every second with him when Iím home because I have schoolwork to do. Hello! Itís getting to the end of the semester. I have papers to write and exams to study for. Itís not my fault I donít have all the time in the world. Iím not putting out because I feel horrible about it. IíM NOT EASY! IíM NOT LIKE THOSE OTHER GIRLS! Iím different, and if you have a problem, leave.
When I was in eighth grade, factoring polynomials was the hardest thing to do. Nothing compared to the difficulty. I remember getting a 0 on a quiz because I missed every question. I was completely confused, and then I went to tutoring. Once I got there, I understood factoring completely and it was never a difficulty for me anymore. Math suddenly became a whole lot easier in general, because I learned how to pay attention. The reason I failed that quiz was not because I didnít understand, but because I failed to pay attention to what the teacher said.
Innocence fades. If I chose the names for music CDs, Innocence Fades would be a damn good name. I feel that fading of innocence as time passes, and I hate it because I can feel it more and more. I feel the gap between now and then closing, and the future is turning to the present so fast. Itís disturbing, and it makes me feel bad. It makes me want to enjoy all the time I have as a young adult, before the real responsibilities come into play. Iím trying to enjoy my health and life while they last.
I donít really care too much for them, at least now. I hate how the girl gets the perfect guy who arrives on the white horse and has blue eyes and blond hair. Most of the time. The villain usually has a dark complexion. When I was 16, I discovered that the dream guy will arrive in a Ford truck and he has brown eyes and brown hair. Your first kiss wonít be perfect because his little brother will be annoying the crap out of you. And he wonít always treat you exactly right, but he will try.
Faith, Trust, and Pixie Dust
Screw that topic. Iíve lost another damn offensee, and thereís nothing I can do about it. Itís going to take more than faith, trust, and pixie dust to prevent me from jealousy. I canít be friends with the offensees, I just canít. I canít even have the friends I have because Iím too busy with school to hang out with them and give them the attention they deserve as friends. It bothers me a lot, and makes me feel like a bad friend. I wanna be isolated during school so I can keep my 4.0.
I wrote a ďsongĒ called Falling when I was in 11th grade, on the day I started dating my current boyfriend. That was four years ago, and the song still fits. I like it a lot and I remember coming up with some of the verses when I was outside walking the dog. (I come up with a lot of interesting ideas for writing while Iím walking the dog, in the shower, or about to fall asleep Ė and I never have paper in any of these circumstances.) But Falling is a classic, and I might look at it today.
I only see four members of my family on a regular basis. All the others live out of state and it makes me angry that my family doesnít all live together in one state or even in one town. If we did, weíd get on each othersí nerves, but it would make me happy. Thanksgiving was yesterday, and I was a little sad because so much of my family was not with me. I have my boyfriendís relatives and I love them to death and they treat me like I am their family, but itís just not the same.
Iím not even going to start my rant about fanfiction, even though it gets me mad. I am currently annoyed with
and the massive fandom that has come out of that. The books were decent, but they werenít really that great. I was going to watch the movie, but after reading reviews and listening to friends and acquaintances talking about it, I decided not to see it. I donít need anymore sappy romance in my life, thank you very much. Even if said romance does contain a super hot vampire, I donít think I need to see it.
I sometimes want to disappear somewhere far away, and when I do that, I write. It relaxes me and makes me incredibly happy. If there is such a thing as runnerís high, there should probably be such a thing as writerís high. My whole mood elevates when I put my fingers to the keyboard or my pencil to the paper. I see things differently, I see myself differently, and most importantly, I see the future differently. From what many have told me, my true talent lies in writing, and I vow to pursue that talent God gave me.
Fast and Free
Thatís what I felt the first time I was on an airplane and I felt it pick up speed on the runway and get higher and higher in the air. The ground grew smaller and smaller and I felt the rush that made me smile so hard even though my mom was next to me about to puke because she gets dizzy when the plane takes off. That part was nice, except the higher I got, the more uncomfortable it was because my ears filled with pressure that got even worse on the descent. I love planes.
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