Wednesday, August 31, 2005


I'm so HAPPY! I know, all I've been doing this past week was winge about my life at school, but what the heck.

I really wanted to join CAPA last year, which is like acting, but I didn't. And now I can't till next year maybe. But I "joined" the backstage stuff crew today, and I"M SO FRIKKIN HAPPY! :)

I don't even know what that is, but it sounds cool. I think it's lighting and wires, but who knows?


Tuesday, August 30, 2005


Resonating with the sound of the earth, it sings of the music it made, when leaves were once blowing in the breeze.

Monday, August 29, 2005


Today was the first day of school. Man, that sucked.

Saturday, August 27, 2005

New Story I'm Working On

I'm writing a story and it's gonna be so great and Stephen King-like. Here's what my story line is:

* Girl runs while Lady cries over dead husband
* Girl walks into strange place, Lady searches for missing daughter (wonder who that is!)
* Girl meets the Storyteller, who tells her stories, Lady's health fails
* Girl finally decides to leave, Lady is about to die
* The Girl and the Lady finally meet and it is revealed that they're mother & daughter
* Also revealed that the Girl killed her dad
* Sad ending, all weepy.

Here's what I have so far:


She ran. Barely concious of what was going on around her, she fled through the woods, hoping -- no, needing, to get away. Tears trickled down her face, but she paid no heed. Tall trees stood all around her, assuring her that she was lost. It didn't matter. All that was on her mind at the moment was to get as far away as possible.

She stopped as it hit her like a bag of bricks--just what was she was running from anyway?


Mrs. Atwood stood solemly, her head bowed, over her husband's coffin. His face was incredibly pale, despite the service's efforts to make him appear lively. His brown hair was matted against his forehead. He was dead, as dead as a stone. She couldn't deny it.

The family would be facing some big changes from now on. Now that Larry was dead, the family would be missing something huge. Not a chunk, but a whole dimension.

Not that the kids would mind much.

Christine shuddered at the thought.

Larry Atwood had never been the regular family man. In fact, he was always at the bar, talking with his drunk friends. He'd come home drunk, and angry with his life. When the kids, or even Christine, would get him mad, he'd throw a fit. He'd usually give them a slap hard on the face, or worse. Most of the time, it was nothing to get mad over. One of the kids would cry over a broken toy, or accidentally break a vase -- then Larry'd take his belt or a shoe while Christine would weep and tug and beg him not to hurt the kids.

She wiped the tears from her eyes. At least it was over now. There would be no more tears, no more abuse. Her mind wandered to before they were together. How foolish she was back then. She had always worn her blonde hair in the same long ponytail, held together, always with the same yellow butterfly holder. She'd stay up all night with her friends. They'd drink and smoke and do whatever the hell they'd want to do when the parents weren't around. It never occurred to her that the world had worse problems than her parents' yelling and getting grounded. Until one day, after she had gotten got married, all that smoke got to her lungs. When the accident happened, she never dared to smoke again.

She walked away, leaving the next person in line to send him their last prayers. It was too bad Cassie wasn't here with the boys. But she wouldn't've wanted to come anyway.

For the first time in twenty years, Christine Atwood picked up a cigarette.


Where she was going, what she was running from, Sandy had no clue. The woods were shrouded in a deep mist, it was hard to see even the bottom of her feet. Wherever she was, she was completely lost. She looked down at her clothes. Her probrably once-white shirt and jeans were dirty, caked with mud and dirt, as if she had been running for days. Something caught her eye. Was it... no it couldn't be. She looked closer.

It wasn't mud at all. It was the look and sick smell of blood. Everywhere, splattered on her shirt, her jeans. She suddenly realized--something--or someone--had been murdered in front of her.

An image tore through her mind; A scream; A face, covered in blood; falling, silent. Who was it? To her, the face seemed strangely familiar, as if she had seen it before.

Which was funny, she didn't even know what she, herself, looked like. She uttered a laugh. It tore through the mist and the heavy silence. The trees didn't answer.

She walked on. Her footsteps were unusually quiet over the forest floor. The mist became heavier. Pretty soon, the woods ended--or at least it seemed to--it was hard to tell. Part of her wanted to go back, to the shelter of the trees, and sit and wait until someone came to help her.

The other part forced her on.


Anyone with ideas & corrections, etc., they'd be greatly appreciated.

Friday, August 26, 2005

Wings Of A Butterfly

Heaven ablaze in our eyes
We're standing still in time
The blood on our hands is the wine
We offer as sacrifice

Come on, and show them your love
Rip out the wings of a butterfly
For your soul, my love
Rip out the wings of a butterfly
For your soul

This endless mercy mile
We're crawling side by side
With hell freezing over in our eyes
Gods kneel before our crime

Come on lets show, them your love
Rip out the wings of a butterfly
For your soul, my love
Rip out the wings of a butterfly
For your soul
(Rip out the wings of a butterfly)
Don't let go
(Rip out the wings of a butterfly)
For your soul

Come on, and show them your love
Rip out the wings of a butterfly
For your soul, my love
Rip out the wings of a butterfly
For your soul
(Rip out the wings of a butterfly)
Don't let go
(Rip out the wings of a butterfly)
(Rip out the wings of a butterfly)

For your soul

Thursday, August 25, 2005

Something I learned about spam

They usually come in groups of three or four, and when you click on their link, it triggers other spammers to come.

Sorry, extra short post again. I was just at the Churchill football game. We won! Also, I miscalculated the distance from Churchill to my house. Instead of 2 or 5 minutes like I said, it's more like 5 or 10, or 20. Heh heh.

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

The War In Iraq

Image from PostSecret.

It's been almost 40 years since the gruesome killing, people forced to either die without reason, or live the rest of their lives haunted by the scenes of blood and guts, the poisonous gas festooning in their lungs, their friends dying next to them. The ones who started as kids have now grown old, marked with horrifying memories of the past. Many never had a choice. For most, it seemed so unreasonable, it still does today. And people who disagreed at the time, who had their own ideas, did something.

Walking around with picket-signs, refusing to stop until something good came out of it; risking their own lives, not in the war, but on the streets, with cops who have to choice but to eventually bomb them with teargas; these are the people who knew if they couldn't keep up in their work, they, too, would be taken by the Draft, a shameless way of ripping young people off the roots of their homeland and rooting them across the Ocean, exploiting their lives for a cause they don't necessarily have to agree with. But they stood.

Many of you have heard of the story of Cindy Sheehan, a mother whose son was killed in the war in Iraq. She set up camp by the president's ranch, refusing to move until the President talks with her. She is a symbol of the President's big blindness, the one that is sending off good-hearted Americans with loving families to die hundreds of miles away from home, as if they were mere expendable grenades.

Now, as the war wages on in Iraq, more and more Americans are starting to understand that they've been cheated here. Where were the Weapons of mass destruction? Where are the weapons capable of endangering the world and it's innocent families? What are our troops doing in Iraq? Less and less people are signing up. Because they understand. We have no business carrying out some plan the Administration is obviously either lying about or made a huge mistake with. But what happens when there is no one to fill the positions, and Bush is left standing alone? He'd have no choice but to withdraw -- or force many young people to fight against their will; drafting them to a place he can't imagine in his worst nightmares.

If he does, there'd be an outbreak, similar to the protesters years ago. The country will be out of control because of a war that is taking more from them than necessary. Their family and friends, their safety, their knowing that their country's history, the soil they're living on is a symbol of freedom. Years ago, they saw; they felt, and they lived. If you asked a Vietnam War veteran, not as one of the people they could've died to protect, but as a regular person just wanting to know for a cause, they'd say way more than just a "It was good to know I was defending the country." These people have gone through horribly unneccesary experiences no one should've gone through. Why should we today?

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

This here quiz I found

Fire advise goggle
You think you're deep, tortured and misunderstood.
You're not, you're just incoherent and a bit
silly. Now you know.

What Lord of the Rings engrish subtitle are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Huge political rant tomorrow--brace yourselves.

Monday, August 22, 2005

Stephen King in The Simpsons

Marge: So Mr. King, what tales of horror and macarbre do you have for us today?

Stephen King: Oh, I've stopped doing horror for awhile. I'm actually doing a biography on Benjamin Franklin. He was a very facinating man. Did you know that he discovered electricity? He used it to torture small animals and green mountain men. And that key he tied on the end of the kite, IT OPENED THE GATES OF HELL! (Lightning flashes in background)

Marge: Ok, well tell me when you get back to horror.

Stephen King: Will do.

Sunday, August 21, 2005

Hey, look!


Seriously, I have nothing to say. I just cleaned my room and there's dust and junk shoved into my brain because I have nowhere alse to put it. So check this out:

Saturday, August 20, 2005


It strikes fear through the human heart
It chills us all with fear
The very sound of it will cause
A big fat flowing of tears

Frightening amounts of homework
Slave from morning into night
Textbooks piled up
To a dangerous height

Do this, do that
You'll hear it all the time
You have no choice but to listen
There's no crossing the line

Teachers always yelling
Homework every day
There's nothing you can do
But fall in and slave away

Nine, nine, nine more days
You're one less than ten
Nine days to panic
Before the fun begins

Friday, August 19, 2005

Hershey's... again

Yesterday I found a huge chocolate bar in my backpack from the last day of school last year. I had nearly forgotten about it. As I was eating it, it suddenly hit me. The person who started the Hershey's company must've been a woman! The "her" and the "she," they're all there! On every single piece, there's a "HERSHEY'S." It must be some kind of subliminal message, 'cause get this: HERSHEYS spelled backwards is SYEHSREH! If you ignore all the Hs, you get "S YES RE." Which can only mean "yes republican." Someone, out there, wants us to all vote their way, and they're controlling us with chocolate! People should vote the way they want to! Eat every single shred of the message, before they're able to control our minds and make us do crazy things, like fly kites in the basement, and wash our dogs with flour, and crack open water bottles with screwdrivers, and write with erasers while erasing with lead, and throw our LOTR DVDs away, and stick fruit rollups on the top of lampposts, and take pictures of Goldfish crackers and build houses out of teeth and read Chris Van Allsburgh while riding bikes and write really really really long run-on sentences... *Gasp* They've got me! Run for your lives! While the Hershey's plague is abroad, no one is safe! Flee! Flee!

Thursday, August 18, 2005


"No more getting up every day at 5 a.m. to get cold glue and prosthetics applied to my feet! So long, suckas!"

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

The Trapezoid... (dun dun dun)

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

The Tree

I remember the tree. Growing in my neighbor's yard, it was probrably one of the tallest trees in the neighborhood. It had lots of nests: a squirrel's nest, a raven's nest, and who-knows-what-else. I remember, when I first moved in, I could see it from my window. The branches, seen from a certain angle (from my room), bore an eery resemblance to a wizard (with a pointy hat) who was mooning (his butt was huge!). Every day, when I'd get up, I'd see the same thing over again, and it would brighten my day. Sadly, it was also an ash tree, and became disease-festooned (damn those ash-borers!), so it had to be cut down. With it, pretty much all the other ash trees in my (for some of you, our) city was cut down. Part of me died that day, knowing I'll never see my beloved Jumbodore again.

Monday, August 15, 2005

EII Movie

^Elijah Wood, who plays Jon Safran Foer in EII, talking to Jon Safran Foer, the author of EII. I want to see that movie so bad. But I probrably won't get to see it if it's the exact same as the book, if you know what I mean. *sigh* Happy Feet, Happy Feet, Happy Feet...

Sunday, August 14, 2005

Give It All

Break through the undertow, your hands I cant seem to find,
pollution burns my tongue, cough words I can't speak so I

stop my struggling, then I float to the surface,
fill my lungs with air, then let it out

I give it all, now there's a reason why I sing,
I give it all, and its these reasons that belong to me

Rock bottoms where we live, and still we dig these trenches,
to bury ourselves in them, backs breaking under tension

For far too long these voices, muffled by distances,
its time to come to our senses, up from the dirt

We give it all, now there?s a reason why I sing,
So give it all, 'cause its these reasons that belong to me

Breathe, the air we give, the life we live, our pulses racing distances,
so wet my tongue, break into song, through seas of competition,

So please believe your eyes, a sacrifice,
is not what we had in our minds,
I'm coming home tonight, home tonight

We give it all, this is the reason why I sing,
So give it all, its these reasons that belong to me

Today I offer all myself to this I'm living for my dying wish,
I give it all, now there's a reason, there's a reason, to give it all

Saturday, August 13, 2005

Killer Dream

I had a dream last night. There was a short guy. Not that I could tell, he was invisible. All you could see were his stick-person arms with stick-claws. A bunch of friends (I've never seen these people before in my life) were behind me. We were all planning to kill the guy, but none of them would do anything. All of a sudden, I got a knife and I started stabbing him. I cut into his shoulder and the blade passed through so he could no longer use his arms. I kept cutting until he was in two pieces. It was like cutting a vegetable. Then I started stabbing at the back of his neck, trying to do the same with his head. It was too bony, and wouldn't work, so I cut the other arm off. The whole time, my friends were watching, horror-struck. I didn't think about it, I just went ahead and killed him. And I kept going. I wouldn't stop. I real life, I'd cringe at the thought of doing what I did, but that time, I enjoyed it. And I wouldn't mind doing it again.

Wouldn't that make an awesome story?

Friday, August 12, 2005


^ It's a bunny.
I took this today. The blood's just food coloring. And don't ask how I got the bunny. But isn't it adorable? Its name is Merry. I would've named it Pippin if my hamster weren't already named Pippin. It's the classic killer bunny.

Thursday, August 11, 2005


I am Sam
I send spam
I am Spammer Sam

That Spammer Sam!
That Spammer Sam!
I do not like
that Spammer Sam!

Do you like
Me sending spam?

I do not like it,
Spammer Sam.
I do not like
You sending spam.

Would you like it
here or there?

I would not like it
here or there.
I would not like it
I do not like
your stupid spam.
I do not like it,
Spammer Sam.

Should I send it
from my house?
Can you click it
with your mouse?

I do not like it
from your house.
I will not click it
with my mouse.
I do not like it
here or there.
I do not like it
Go to hell with your stupid spam.
I do not like it, Spammer Sam.

Would you like it
in a box?
Will you see it
with FireFox?

Not in a box.
Not with Firefox.
Not from your house.
Not with my mouse.
I dont like it here or there.
I hate it everywhere.
I won't answer your stupid spam.
Leave me alone,
Spammer Sam.

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Wednesday, August 10, 2005

Happy birthday!

Happy birthday to ^Grangergirl, a.k.a. Kris, who's turning 14. I'd also like to wish a happy birthday to her grandparent's dog, Trouble. And a very happy half-birthday to her own puppy, Spirit.

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

Queen Anne's Lace

No one starts out with dreams. Dreams all start out as buds, and have to be nurtured to bloom. Every dream is small and insignificant, but help make up the field nonetheless. A rainstorm recklessly tearing through can either kill it off, or help it grow stronger once it passes. There is no use hiding, though, because each dream dies eventually. But dreams that wither after blooming always leave new dreams scattering in the wind.

Monday, August 08, 2005


I don't see why so many people become vegetarian. Eating chickens and cows isn't wrong, it's nature. I mean, every year, thousands of flies get stuck up cows' noses, beetles are eaten along with the grass. Those fly-and-beetle-murdering cows are the same ones they're trying to protect. I don't hear anyone chanting "Save the flies!" or "Beetles for blood!" Maybe they're against eating animals because keeping cows and pigs penned up won't let them live a normal life. Spending their whole lives locked up until they're slaughtered. Everyone dies, but everyone should enjoy their lives. What if we let them roam free, and if were ever hungry for bacon, we can just go out and hunt them?

Sunday, August 07, 2005

Superman vs. Mighty Mouse

"You think Mighty Mouse could beat up Superman?"
"What are you, cracked?"
"No, I saw him on TV the other day, he was holding five elephants in one hand."
"Boy, you don't know nothing. Mighty Mouse is a cartoon. Superman's a real guy. There's no way a cartoon could beat up a real guy."
"I guess you're right. It'd be a good fight though."

Since we all know they're both made up, who would win? Superman's only weakness is kryptonite. And I don't know about Mighty Mouse, but someone who can hold up five elephants in one hand must be pretty strong. Plus, he's so tiny, it's pretty easy to miss. My guess is that they'll tear each other into shreds. But then again, Superman is immortal, while Mighty Mouse is just an old classic. So maybe Superman would come out alive. Anyway, Verne's right. It would be a pretty good fight.

Saturday, August 06, 2005

I'm not ready for school

Every year, teachers hate me more and more. It's not like I don't hate them back. In fact, they're my natural worst enemy. Even the most mild-mannered teacher in MACAT last year kept me after for detention. And I did the worst in his class. I got like a C-, right under Richard. That's pretty funny if you think about it. I mean, that kid's pretty dumb. Anyway, I have a feeling I'm gonna do so bad. I can't pay attention. Maybe if I get like a bulldozer... nyeeeewwwww, pshhht! eeeeeeeerr! Wham! Wham! Screaaams! Wham! tssssst!

Friday, August 05, 2005

New shows

My Name Is Earl
My Kind Of Town

All these new shows are coming to ABC (or maybe NBC, I dunno) which makes me wonder where they put the shows they replace. Do they find a better time for them, or just simply not air them anymore? And do they ever announce they'll stop airing them? That's freakeh. They're like the Less Than Perfect shows we've Lost Hope & Faith for. And for most of them, there's a 20/20 chance we'll never see them again. This may change our Life As We Know It. From our country's Bachelors to our Desperate Housewives, our Complete Savages to our Super Millionaires, everyone has only One Life To Live, and we can't take it for granted.

Thursday, August 04, 2005


You are in a falling elevator that was dropped from a plane miles above the ground. You are trapped, and pressed against the roof (are you?). Luckily, there is a door on the side. You grasp the handle and it opens. You struggle to get out and jump out at the last second, only one inch from the ground. What happens? Do you fly up, since you were pressed up against it, or fall and crash with the elavator? Or can you come out safe and unharmed? Hehe, Tinky Winky is singing a very loud song on TV right now. Dipsy, Lala and Po are running away. Um... where were we? Oooh! Po's singing a quiet song! God, her voice is so freakin' beautiful! I guess I'll shut up now.

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

Buncha scenes from Two Towers

The rabbits Beryl Foxburr Jr. Jr. of Loamsdown and Bill. (BFB is the one on the right)

BFB is the one in the front.

This kid looks like a mini-version of Merry.

This guy's always made me think of Palpatine. I call him Tigwit: Theoden Is Grey - Who Is That?

Hannah Wood, Elijah Wood's sister.

There she is again.

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

If A Tree Falls Down...

"If a tree falls down and no one's there to hear it, does it make a sound?"

Sometimes I think that's the dumbest question ever. Of course it makes a sound. First the CRACK where the bottom breaks, the CREAK as it tilts, the RUSTLE as the leaves thrash, the SNAP as the branches break, and fnally the THUD as the tree crashes to the ground. That's like asking, "If there's someone in the world I have no chance of ever meeting or knowing about, do they exist?" Of course they exist. They might change your life without you or them ever knowing it. Just like the tree. As it came crashing down, it probrably, let's say, killed a family of 26 lemurs. That would speed up the process of lemurs going extinct. And when that happens, the lemur poachers won't have any more lemurs to make money from. Then they'll probrably move to America for a job, and that's one more person you'll probrably never have a chance of meeting.

Monday, August 01, 2005

Hearts In Atlantis

This is probrably the best book I've read by Stephen King so far. It's split up into four parts. I think they all make sense without each other, but they share some of the same characters. I've just finished part 2, so I have no idea. The first part, Low Men In Yellow Coats, is about this kid named Bobby who lives with his abusive mom in an apartment. An old man named Ted Brautigan comes to live in their building and becomes instant friends with Bobby. His mom and friend both suspect Ted is on the run from something, and Ted tells Bobby to look out for the Low Men, who wear yellow coats, drive strange cars, draw stars and moons by hopscotch grids, put up upside-down lost pet posters, hang kite tails in strange places, and make the town bell ring earlier than they should. It's so strange, it's awesome. It's even been made into a movie. And I'm gonna be reading it over and over again. When I'm bored.
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