<center>Sell All My Things<br>I'm Not Coming Home</br><br></br>

:: 2008 1 January :: 12.54am
:: Mood: lonely
:: Music: James Bond 007 Theme Remix - ?

Update
I figured I should write in this. Mostly because someone found it and I don't want them to think I am a complete idiot like I frequently portray in this journal.

It's 2008. Main regret: I didn't get to play the 007 theme song once it hit midnight this year. Nor will I ever (or at least with a legitimate excuse) have the excuse to again.
Shucks.

My sister's boyfriend is here. He isn't going home because of the New Years Eve drivers. I feel awkward.

4 Will Feel Better Miles Away From Home | Play A Song For Me

:: 2007 15 January :: 1.43am
:: Mood: melancholy
:: Music: Can't Buy Me Love - Michael Bublé

Layout Change
Changed my layout. I had had the old one for years, so I decided to make an attempt at improving upon it.

It's pretty to look at. I am content.

I've changed a lot since this journal started. I'm really glad too, because reading back on my entries there are a lot that I am not too happy with. If that was the person that I was, I think that I may find that person annoying should I meet them on the streets. Then again I am sure that years from now I will look back on this and think the exact same thing .. but I hope not.

As for things lately, they've been kind of sucky. A bunch of things have decided to hit all at once. It's been a long time since we have had some decently-sized family problems, so I suppose I should have been expecting some. There I was anticipating the next big California-shaking earthquake when in reality it was creeping up behind me, and hitting much closer to home.
Not to mention finals. I've had no motivation to study lately. I don't know what I will do. I'll be so glad once these things are over. .. And then there is everyone asking me where I plan to go for college.

The answer is that I do not know. I most likely will not know for a while. The plan is to go someplace that is a few hours away - close enough to visit once in a while, yet far enough away to get me used to being away. But I don't know what I will do in the long run. What about Mema? I worry about her, and i'm attached to my family, so what am I supposed to do. What is something happens while I am away?

I don't know. I suppose now isn't the best time to think about all of this anyway.

:: 2006 21 September :: 8.30pm
:: Mood: calm
:: Music: Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep - Middle of the Road

Avast, yeh scurvy scuggs!
Once again another huge break between entries. It's been quite some time, old journal. And how might you be this evening? Fine? Glad to hear it. Please forgive me for my temporary neglect.

And now for - you guessed it!
Recent goings-on:

-The start if junior year of course. What is it like, ask you? Why, it is just like what everyone preceding me has said about it. It sucks. Do you know what it is like to have that nice feeling of being awake? Where someone can ask, "so who is tired," and you can feel pride in not raising your hand? I don't really know how that feels. I'm sure that most juniors in my class also have forgotten that feeling. I seemed to notice this decline of awakeness in the second semester of freshman year, and it has plummeted downhill from there.
Two religion classes in the same semester kind of sucks as well. Okay, it kind of sucks a lot. though luckily I have gotten a bit more used to my (insert shudder here) Women, Spirituality, and Creativity class, which is nice considering I couldn't stand it a weeks ago.
AP US History isn't too terrible, which is nice. I just think I take to Mr. Floyd a lot better than Ms. Burson, so that is a relief. It's nice not completely dreading that class every day.

-School play has started. It's called Red Scare on Sunset and takes place in the 50s. So far it seems like it is going to be pretty fun to do, and I hope that the people watching it will like it too. I know that it is an improvement upon our last Fall play at least, but that isn't saying much. The storyline for that one was very interesting, it just was not over all entertaining, and it was not very well prepared either. But this one had an early start, so chyaa. I play a guy named Frank, who is an alcoholic and semi-communist. Should be fun, though sometimes it is frustrating because i don't feel like I'm doing a very good job on it.

- My stomach has been kind of bothering me. At first I thought I was just overeating all the time for the past few days, but I'm beginning to think I'm bloating up or something like that, because it's not like I eat a huge amount of food during meals. Just thought i would write that down because I'm freakish.

- I was bullied into joining the Amnesty International Club today. Kind of ironic, hm? The whole human rights thing and then they guilt you into joining. It isn't like you can say, "Well, uh... you see, I... I'm just not into human rights. Screw children in India," because 1) That is a terrible thing to say (mostly the latter sentence). 2) It isn't really true. I happen to love children in India... and human rights are nice too.
I mean, you can't easily tell someone that you have better things to do than strive for human rights. Oh well. I'll give it a shot. And it's my friend who "bullied" me into it, so hopefully it won't be too terrible (then again it would make it more difficult not to show up, being that she is the president...)

My train of thought has been completely lost, and Mom is taking forever out of the house, so I can't discuss Renaissance Faire plans or watch any Grey's Antomy before ten o'clock because I have to wait until she gets home.
I'm getting frustrated with this Renaissance faire stuff. None of it seems to be working out, and I had been looking forward to going all this week. Next week I'm going to Oregon for the Shakespeare festival, so that limits the other number of weekends left until the Faire ends.

I sigh in exasperation.

2 Will Feel Better Miles Away From Home | Play A Song For Me

:: 2006 7 June :: 1.47am
:: Music: He Mele No Lilo - Lilo & stitch

Summer
So, yeah, summer is not the most eventful thing ever, but I love it in some strange way. I've actually been quite accomplished in the time I have had of summer so far, so I don't feel like I'm completely useless. However there is the problem of yummy food in the house - that's always a dilemma in itself.

I watched Lilo and Stitch last night. I watched it again today. Now I'm listening to the music, and I want to watch it again, but it is too late and I have to be energized to bother my sister's friends tomorrow. Marilyn, I shall say hi to the McPeakster for you.

Right now Denise has her friend Melissa over. Denise treats me like I'm stupid because she is over. It doesn't make me feel very good. I know I did that to her when I was younger and had friends over though, so I guess I can't complain, but I do feel really dumb. At least with the guys that come over they are either stupid enough to think I am funny or I know them well enough to bug the hell out of them. I don't know Melissa that well. Oh well. Two sentences just ended in "well"

Eric Zheng is determined not to sleep a third of his life away like other humans, so he is still online. He was online at four last night. I can understand the whole not wasting your life thing, but spending the not-wasted time burning your eyes out in front of the computer screen ..... am I missing some sort of profound logic here? Not like I'm much better, really, but he seems to spend more time online than even me. I'm kind of sleepy, but I don't feel like sleeping.

So far I have seen two ants on my desk. I want to know how they got there so I can trace them back to the mothership and scold them harshly for their wrongdoing.

I just realized I have a Stitch bobble head doll on my desk.

Myspace is silly. Silly myspace. It's fine for keeping in touch with friends and stalking people, and if you really want to you can look like you know a lot of people that you don't, but it isn't good for much else. There is something about it that I despise and yet I still have one. I'm half sickened. The other half of me doesn't care. But I guess for those that don't have online journals, it is a good way to talk to people. why am I talking about Myspace? Shouldn't there be some sort of law against that on online journal communities?

You know something I don't know how to do on here? Make cuts. Like lj cuts, only for ... woohu.

Listening to Lilo and Stitch Hawaiian-ness makes me really want to go there.

I think the Discovery Channel is out to make me completely paranoid. It's always talking about volcanoes reloading and tidal waves killing people and huge earthquakes or asteroids that are going to come and crash into the Earth and kill everyone and everything in it - if not the whole world, then at least a good portion of it. I think Northern Europe is probably one of the safest places to live if one wants to avoid natural disasters. Maybe I will move there.... but I don't really want to. I mean, I want to go there, but I don't really think I want to actually live there. Not just yet anyway.

I'ver listened to this song 103 times. .. I mean, incase anyone happened to be thinking to themselves, "He Mele No Lilo ... I wonder how many times she has listened to that song...
I have just answered your deep and wonderous ponderings.

I kind of miss guys. I would like some guy friends. I would also like to live a long healthy life and raise a wonderful family and work for Disney while traveling all over the world and falling in love with a very handsome, sweet dude and marrying him (these are not in order), but I don't know if I'll get all of those.

I don't think we are going to the Grand Prix this year. And if we are, I don't know if we are going with my uncle and cousin, which means I don't know if that one guy will be coming, which means I will have to wait until probably January to see him, unless my aunt's birthday is before then. That's rather depressing. That and the fact that i don't know the guy's last name nor anything else about him besides he's nice to everyone around my family and puts up with a lot of crap that my aunt and cousin put him through.

Funny how things work that way, huh?

Hum dee dum
106 times now. I kind of want to do something creative, and yet I do not know what. Oh, the ponderings of life!

Mom's home.

2 Will Feel Better Miles Away From Home | Play A Song For Me

:: 2006 5 March :: 10.38pm
:: Mood: psychologically sick
:: Music: none

Stuff
School has gotten so stressful and dull that's it's to the point where I hate everything about it. Just thinking about it makes me want to throw something very sharp and pointy at a big fat block of wood shaped like homework or tests, or maybe just the school building so that I can get out my anger.

Right now these feelings aren't as strong, but sometimes - especially after a nice vacation or something - any simple reminder of school is nausiating, until even the people there you just don't want to see for a very long time, or at it feels this way when it comes to the people that are your friends, but not your close friends ... if that makes sense.

At this school, everything is too __________
-- Too competetive
-- Too academic
-- Too french
-- Too slash-obsessed
-- Too liberal
-- Too much estrogen
-- Too feminist
-- Too depressed
-- Too many smart(er) people

Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against competition, academics, the French, slash and yaoi, liberals, women, feminists, depression, or smarter people. It's just that at this school it's an overload of things. I'm all for women's rights, but this school is way too much into it! So much that we have to do projects on women -- Hell, there are entire classes dedicated to women at our school. Frankly, it's making me sick of women. Well, maybe that's a bit harsh, but I'm just sick of people that whine about "Women don't get this, women don't get that. This was the first woman to enter a hot-dog eating contest against men!" Why don't we focus on what women do have now compared to back then and be grateful for it, or only focus on the women that did really important things. It's just like this thing with racism. Why do we have to make it special just because it was a woman who did it or an african or hispanic person that did it? Can't it just be amazing because of the fact that someone did it? That's all that matters in the end, isn't it? If we separate people like that, that in itself is racism.

I also don't really care about slash. Hell, everyone needs a healthy dose of it once in a while - if not seriously liking a pairing - which is fine - then at least for a joke! But my God. There are some things you just don't slash, and some of the people at my school are pushing it way too far, and they do it with everything. I used to like some slash pairings. If the stories are cute or good, I still like them, but you don't pick random people out of a story or movie that would never ever go near eachother even if they were gay, and decide "This is my new fandom! How about I give ominous looks to friends every time their names are mentioned in the same sentence so that we can have a little giggle? And then everytime the story or movie is slipped into a conversation I can shout out their names and then chuckle madly like it's adorable and funny that they are now all I talk or think about!" -.-

There are those also that are obsessed with the french. In all honesty, I have nothing whatsoever against the french. If anything, I tease about them, as many people do, but I think France is fine and dandy and cool and stuff and if someone paid for me and I had the time, I'd go there (possibly avoiding Paris, where all the American haters are supposedly located). Some at my wonderful school though talk about France nonstop, insist on speaking the language to you, and then anytime any joke or something is mentioned about france, they get all sensitive and pissy (unless they are the ones that made the joke) and look like they are about to clean out your orifices with a blunt lead spoon.

Liberals, fine. I am really all for people having their own opinion about things. Hate Bush? Happy for you, and I can sometimes understand why. But one thing I am not for, on any side of the political spectrum, is extremety, and the people at my school are extreme. "I have a great idea. Let's hang up posters and have a meeting about the terrible torturous things the American soldiers are doing to the Iraqi prisoners. Nevermind what some of their extremists have done to our reporters with the actual approval of their leaders, we want to focus on how evil America truly is without the consent of the actual leader of the nation!" You may think I am exagerrating, which I very well may be, but if I am, it is really not that far from the truth. I can understand if someone is mad about the stories of torturing Iraqi soldiers because it might just be sinking as low as some of the terrorists, but there are so many people at my school that hate our government and bitch about it all the time that I have no doubt part of the motivation for that meeting was to show how bad our country really is. The school also has an issue with morbid things. Half of the things posted or announced is to make you depressed.
Say, it's Valentine's Day? Great! We can put up happy heart-shaped posters in the breezeways that give people a cheerful fact, saying, "By the time you're done reading this poster ... three children have died!" Happy Valentine's Day everyone! I shit you not, that is what was actually on the posters during Valentine's day.
Over the announcements: "Today is the anniversary of the brutal murder of sister Dorothy, who worked in South America helping poor children. She was shot six times in the chest only to fall to the ground and lay in a pool of her own blood. While she suffocated and drowned in her own bodily fluids, her attackers chopped her up into little pieces and fed her to the exotic birds of the amazon, who then most likely pooped her out on some plants to make the trees grow wild and beautiful, a memory of her love today." (Yes, that one was exagerrated)

Last but not least, all the smart Asians. I love Asians. I really really do. But damn them for being so smart. And it's not just them. There are so many people at my school who have 4.5s and such. I'm not a bad student. I'm actually pretty smart, but the problem is that I've gotten used to that, and now I feel so insignificant to all these other people with higher GPA and that still don't get as stressed out as I do about things. I don't understand how they do it, and it's so frustrating and dismaying that I can't do it, if that makes sense. I like being able to try at something and then work on it and finally be able to do it, but sometimes I just get so discouraged when I feel like I've tried and I've tried and I still can't.
Is it possible to spoil yourself with grades? That's what it feels like. In my old school I was used to getting good grades, and now that they aren't as good as they used to be, I feel like it's not good enough. That's what I think I am, really. A spoiled brat. I am spoiled when it comes to a lot of things (and I am also very grateful for many of those things) , but I don't like being the brat part, and hope I'm not (or if I have to be, I hope I am not the "brat" part of it too often). But I really am happy that I at least get the grades I do, I just sometimes wish I could have the capability to do both the extracurricular stuff, the homework, and get a decent amount of sleep (ah yes, and a social life would be kind of fun too).

Then again, there's always easter vacation.

Feeling pleasantly pessimistic,
Jess

:: 2006 26 January :: 8.29pm
:: Mood: lazy
:: Music: When I'm 64 - Beatles

Woohu is goodness. It makes me happy.

Ah, so much to do, so little time.

Started drivers ed, finally, after already being sixteen and all. Yes, that's right, finally I got off my "arse" and signed up for the online classes. Slowly but surely I'm on my way to the doomed goal of driving. Yep, watch out world, here I come.

Have math first tomorrow. I say icky. But usually it isn't so bad because the teacher doesn't really demand the proper attention anyway, so it's no big deal. So far since we started second semester the homework situation hasn't been too bad. I hope it stays that way.

I've lost track of the number of books I'm supposed to be reading right now.

Peter Pan
Capt. Hook: Adventures of a Notorious youth
Brave New World
Gwenevere, Queen of the Summer Country(or summer Lands or something)
A couple others that I've forgotten. Basically the unfinished books. Don't you hate it when that happens? I know I've at least gotten 3 unfinished King Arthur books.
I've got to get my priorities sorted out.

I've been thinking of looking at some screen plays. Does anyone know if libraries carry screen plays? Haven't been to my library in a long time, so I wonder indeed I do.

Gotta go watch the second half of Disco Pigs again.

1 Will Feel Better Miles Away From Home | Play A Song For Me

:: 2005 28 December :: 11.33pm
:: Music: For Once in My Life - Michael Buble

"Topping swank, King Jas"
I don't particularly like posting journal entries in my other thingy at this moment, because it's too common for such a vacation. It's the type of thing I check on every day to make sure I look at my friends list and make sure they receive some comments and crap rather than actually updating, really, but even still I check on it every day of the school year (or near every day at least). Doing that reminds me too much of that dreaded and oh-so-long period of time that is called "school", which is perhaps why i have been avoiding it for a week and a half. Actually, i've been avoiding most internet contact since getting out of school. Anything that reminds me of the place I shove far away. It ruins the holiday feeling.
Not that the holiday spirit isnt almost destroyed already. Slowly I can feel the dread and stressed depression seeping into me as the Return to Hell slowly inches closer. Oh, what a horrible fate! I sigh in displeasure, that I do. Not to mention that tomorrow my dearest mother declares that I must begin my homework. Nor does it help at the moment that I have just discovered I am sitting on a damp seat. I should know by know not to sit here with a wet swimsuit, or wet clothing of any kind for that matter. No, no.
In trying to keep with that holiday good-ness, I have decided that since I have been neglecting this most wonderful and much-more-important-to-me journal of mine it would be a relief rather than a terrible reminder of doom to update and look at this journal instead. Much simpler. Much happier. Honestly, there are too many people at the other place that are from school that it hurts me to hear them ramble about things because of the reminding-ness. I like this much better. Reminds me of the good ol' days indeed.

As far as holiday goings-on, I am now officially sixteen years old, and yes, indeed ... still without any driving experience. No license, no permit, no driving school. But I'm content enough for now.
Went to Disneyland and as usual it was wonderful. The new fireworks almost made me cry. Don't laugh. They were beautiful. I miss it already.
Christmas was fantastical. Got a lot of books I've been wanting, as well as three Disney DVDs, a new sweatshirt, money, a new cell phone (-click click- it takes pictures!) and lots of other nice smaller stuff!

Today my mom, sister, and I went to see my mom's friend and her son, Bryce. Twas really awkward, but we ate bagels, which were good.
After that we grabbed some hot dogs and headed over to Mema's, for - yes indeed - we were off to see a movie. "What movie?" you ask? I shall tell you! 'Memoirs of a Geisha'. It was a really cool movie. Lots of prettyness and a good story. The main lady and the evil lady were all pretty and stuff. Yes yes indeed twas good. I had hoped to read the book before going to see it, but it looks like it's going to be the other way around. Mom has a bad cough or something though, so she kept erupting in coughing fits and had to leave the theater a couple times to go to the bathroom because she was feeling so bad. That kind of ruined the experience for her. I hope she doesn't have anything bad.

Imagination is a great thing, isn't it? I love it because even though the evil-ness is steadily approaching once again (S - C - H - O - O - L...) the imagination provides a rather nice distraction from things, at least temporarily. Speaking of imagination, methinks I should go read some more of the books I got for Christmas. Maybe it will make me calmer for a bit. It's a pity I'm getting stressed out about finals already. I can understand now why some people don't like them to be after Christmas vacation, even though they are at the end of January for us.

Icky indeed.

2 Will Feel Better Miles Away From Home | Play A Song For Me

:: 2005 10 November :: 5.29pm
:: Mood: angry
:: Music: Professional Pirate - Muppets

Things Don't Change in Never never Land
I'm tired of it. I really am. And my parents say maybe I shouldn't be angry with her. Yes, I have the right to be angry with her because she's just conviced herself that she can't do anything alone. She has convinced herself that she's going to stay miserable in her wheelchair and that she's going to die that way. My dad, aunt, and uncle went to dinner to talk to her about what they were thinking of doing. Larry, my uncle, is moving back in with his wife in a little while, so he has to leave Mema alone.
They went there to discuss who would stay in and help her by living there. I was under the impression they were going to ask her about trying to give a damn. But no, not really. It was mentioned, and she shrugged it off completely. So now my aunt, her husband, and her two little kids are thinking of moving in for her.
1) Selling thir beautiful house to go and live with Mema
2) these are toddlers we're talking about. That means noise.
It's a stupid idea. My mom had lunch with her the next day and asked how she felt with the confrontation. Mema thought something was wrong when they first all decided to come over for dinner. When Larry told her he was deciding to move back with Ceal, Mema didn't know. The thing was, Larry had also told her she would be the first to know if he decided to move back with Ceal. Dude if I was my grandma I'd feel pretty crappy about that too.
But Mom was talking to her about some of that stuff, about trying to help her and excercise and things like that. She said to Mema: "So Win, I know you're not into the exercise thing and don't like it, etc,"
"Nope. Hate it. Don't wanna do it," came the reply from her.
I don't get it. If her doctors tell her she can do physical therapy and get help, why doesnt she do physical therapy? Everyone tells her that she should do physical therapy. Mom says that it could also be that she might have had some more minor strokes and that may be why she doesnt want to try to walk, so maybe I shouldnt be frustrated with her. But she doesn't have to try walking. She could lift her legs or do some other kind of exercise. Mom said Mema said, "I'll just keep thinkin I'm gonna die like this," or something like that. No, damnit! You don't think that way! you just don't! People shouldn't give up like that! It's ridiculous and stupid, and she has a good life! It's like commiting suicide, and to be honest, I see suicide as a generally cowardly thing to do, especially if it's because of sadness even though they have a good life. But there's the saying "this too shall pass" and to be cliche - "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger." It's also selfish. I relieve their own pain, the person creates pain for everyone else around them. If there is no hope, like you're being tortured by terrorists or the world is ending and there's no way out, then it's understandable, but not if your life is actually good.
We were staying over at her house one time and she fell as she was getting up to get in her wheelchair and go to the bathroom. It was a slow fall and not like she hit herself on anything. She had the wheelchiar and bed to hang onto. But I went in to try to help her get up and told her to get her feet set so that she could push up and help herself and I get her to stand again, but she wouldn't. She hardly made the effort. I kept repeating it to her, and she still hardly did anything. If a person can't stand up themselves, it's understandable, but i really don't understand how she couldn't steady her feet to give me a hand. I almost started crying right there as I was trying to help her up.
People have told me a have a great life, and I do, and I'm extremely extremely happy for that. But I don't want it to change. How it is now is fine. I don't want to grow up, I don't feel like getting my drivers license, I don't feel the need for another boyfriend, I don't want to go off to college. I'm not ready to do it. I don't want to lose my grandma and eventually my mommy and daddy. It's time like these when I realize how hard some of those past pains hit me. In general, I can adapt, but it still hurt at the time. I've been lucky and haven't had to go through a lot of the things other people have, and I am thankful for the things that I have gone through because it does give me more of a feel for life than some other people have had, and I love the fact that I am able to accept the things and learn from them, but I'm not ready for it to happen again.
There are these cards that I have. They're kind of like tarot cards, but not. I was flipping through them and looking at all the art on the cards, and the painting of the one labeled Death really scared me. I didn't like looking at it, so I would turn it over when I wanted to lay the cards out. The picture wasn't even really that frightening. Normally I might think something like that looked cool, but it actually really bothered me, and I didnt understand why until I thought about it later. Weird how your mind works that way.
Mom knows that I get upset about the whole Mema thing, and she says maybe I should talk to her about it or something. But I know if I do that it will just make her feel bad and make her frustrated with me. When she doesnt like something, she hates talking about it, so she would get irritated with me if I tried. And then if I started crying I would feel even worse about it, but I dont think I could talk to her without it.
But i dont want her to die because she gave up on moving and trying to help herself. She's on blood thinners now to see if it will help with the whole stroke problem, but if she falls or cuts herself, she'll bruise really easily or have trouble stopping the bleeding. On one hand it would be bad if she walked now because of the bruising and stuff if she fell, but if she exercised her leg muscles and then practiced walking, she'd fall even less and be able to prevent that. If she falls now she cant even get up to help herself.
I just wished she wasn't so miserable all the time. She's not visibly miserable - it's one of those things you have to watch for in little things. I love seeing her happy, but it makes me sad sometimes too thinking that while she may look happy on the outside she still suffers from something that pains her. She went to visit my dad's cousin, patrick, in the rehab center after he had a bad stroke that made his left side so weak it was difficult for him to even move his arm. He also had to have a hip replacement at the same time. He was taking therapy at the center. Mema used to have therapy there too, and when she came in a wheelchair she saw one of the nice guys who took therapy with her, but he was still there taking therapy. He saw her and talked, and one of the things he said to her was, "Next time I see you, I don't wanna see you in that wheelchair." Then we went and visited Pat, who was doing okay. We left and she hasn't done anything to help herself out of the wheelchair. Patrick's walking now.
The more things progress downhill with her, the more I hate it. I'm fine with things staying the same for a while, or being the way she used to be, when she used to take us to Barnes and Noble to buy a book every time we came to visit her, but I don't like the way this is going, and I don't want it to happen. But I guess you can't have everything you want, right?

"But I guess it's all the work of the ticking crocodile. Time is.. chasing after all of us, isn't it?"

3 Will Feel Better Miles Away From Home | Play A Song For Me

:: 2005 17 September :: 12.36pm
:: Mood: tired
:: Music: Where is Mr. Barrie? - Finding Neverland soundtrack

Hm. That's right... where *is* Mr. Barrie?
I have been inspired, for a reason I cannot explain because I lack it, to update the journal thingy of DOOM!

My sister is making poached eggs right now. And it's my dish day, so I get to clean up her lovely mess of poached egg residue in the strange-looking pan-for-making-poached-eggs.

This sound track makes me inexplicably happy. I only have three songs from it, however, so I'm afraid I will need to add it to my Christmas list, along with the purdy soundtrack from Edward Scissorhands. Chyaa, mon.

"Hallo! My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die!
-swashbuckleswashbuckle-

I think I'm going to perfect my STD song here. For background info, in religion class freshman year they were telling us all about lovely sex ed and STDs and stuff, and I was thinking about it, and made a song. Or at least, tried to. This is to the tune of the chaotic part of Bohemian rhapsody! yay!:

"I see the little silhouetto of a moose*,
STDs! STDs! Will you do the dirty dance?
You have an infection, why is it you question me?!
Gonorrhea! (Gonorrhea!)
Gonorrhea! (Gonorrhea!)
Gonorrhea! I need meds,
Someone's a hoe(oh, oh oh),
I'm just a poor slut, nobody loves me!
She's just a poor slut from a bad family,
spare her her life from her STDs!
Easy now, please be nice, let me see a doctor
Sy-phill-is! NO! we will not let you go - let her go!
Sy-phill-is! NO! We will not let her go - let her go!
Syphillis! NO! We will not let you go!
Will not let you go - let me go
Will not let you go, let me go
no, no, no, no, no, no!
Oh, gonorrhea, gonorrhea, gonorrhea, I need meds!
Oh, HOW long will I have to suffer with these S-T-Ds.... T-Ds.... T-Ds!"
----
* This is an inside joke to the appearance of a uterus on one of those diagrams. Notice, it looks quite similar to a moose.
----
Disclaimer: You will have to excuse me if that song was politically incorrect. No, I am not saying all people who gets STDs are sluts, so you may calm your little britches down (and yes, I said bRitches, meaning underpants, not the other mean word. Teehee). You may think of it as being the opinion of the other people saying she can't go to the doctor or something. I don't know, the song isn't supposed to make complete sense through and through, so that's what you get. Hope it wasn't offensive to anyone or anything, and stuff. I don't think I actually said anything offensive about all the people in general who have STDs, so if you see that, you might be reading too much into it. Dude this small song is taking too much time to make up excuses for, so I'm done.

I wonder if we have any pickles in the house. Those are yummy.

4 Will Feel Better Miles Away From Home | Play A Song For Me

:: 2005 14 September :: 6.14pm
:: Mood: relieved
:: Music: Come Fly With Me - Michael Buble

Dead Bodies in the School Building
Got to school today at 6:57, so there was only a very small group of people there waiting outside, for we were the early birds. The librarian, who normally opens the door to let the students get in was unlocking the doors and about to let us in when the mean lady with short curly hair who likes to yell at everyone (the lady yells... not her hair. Her hair doesn't yell) Said sternly: "No, you can't come in here!" The fat janitor man happened to be over next to the librarian too. The mean lady turned to him and said "Have you smelled this building?"
She let him in and showed him around. We sat outside in the cold, group of students and teachers growing gradually as cars dropped off their loads of back-pack heavy children.
All of us were wondering what it could be, because they weren't telling us anything - most likely because they didn't know yet themselves. A classmate of mine, Marie, said she had smelled it when the librarian lady opened the door, and it did smell pretty bad. For the logical sense, we guessed there was either a gas leak or a sewage leak. For the illogical side, at least for me, I guessed/hoped there would be a dead body in the school. You know, some serial killer had broken in undetected in the middle of the night and decided to place the rotting, dead corpse of their victim in our school to be found the next morning - the usual. That way, not only would we all have to go home, we'd also need grief couseling and be out of school for the rest of the week. Chyaa! 'Course it's not so good for the person who was killed. Nor, I suppose, their family. Yeah, that part wouldn't be so good.
A little bit later, after contemplating all the wonderful and exciting possibilities, the janitor man came out of the building and said: "We've got a hole!" And then scurried off. Not quite sure what that meant, but a few minutes later he came back with a bucket. Also not quite sure what a bucket would do, but we figured it was a sewage leak or something.
Nothing happened for a little bit. I studied for my english quiz because I figured that it would be too good to be true if they cancelled all classes. Inbetween looking at my English notes we entertained ourselves by watching people try to open the doors, even though the entire sophomore and freshman class was sitting right outside it.
At the time the first bell was supposed to ring, they told us to evacuate to the gym. As we were leaving, I heard fire engines down the street and figured they were coming to our school. We all went into the gym and sat on our butts in our home rooms. Some people were still doing homework and studying because, like me, they figured we were all going to start classes soon, just relocated to different areas on campus for the ones in the "intoxicated" building. I checked the clock, seeing how far into first period it would be, and realized it wasn't working. Come to think of it, a bell hadn't wrung either.
They took role and we hung out in the gym for a while, until we were instructed to go to out to Pardini Park, which is basically just a big hunk of grass on school campus. When we were going out there, we saw two cool firetrucks and some firemen in cool suits walkin' around. Neato, dawg. We stood out on the lawn for about ten minutes, and I asked my homeroom teacher if I could go to the bathroom. She said she'd prefer it if I went to the bathroom at the other side of campus from the freaky smelly building, so Julia and I started heading over there, but the intimidating attendance lady who is hard to understand when she talks said I couldn't go to the bathroom. It sucked mucho.
Eventually they had us move to our "Big Sisters'" homerooms (Big sisters are like Buddies with the upper classmen. Frosh -->Juniors; Soph --> Seniors) in the other building where classes were held. We all went in their and Julia and Sarah and I started bouncing around because this was muy cool. We sat on the floor and listened to music and ate Chex mix while Mrs. Evashenk put on the movie "Dodgeball," for us to watch. I noticed that the clock in the room we were in was also not working, so there was most likely a problem with some of the electricity. Only thing was, lights and TVs worked.
The time we remained in the room got longer, until I started to stop worrying about if I got to miss English or not, and started hoping this lasted until history class. Things were looking up in that aspect, at the time being. They herded us back to the gym to buy food from the kitchen if we wanted, or to snack on something we brought. We had to sit in our homerooms again - or at least that's what they told us, because I didn't see too much of the point since they weren't really taking role anyway. So we sat there, kind of confused as to why we were all in the gym to eat stuff, when they could have just sent people over to get food in the kitchen and then bring it back to Donelly, because people are allowed to eat in that building.
A little bit later the new principal lady who's name I don't remember got up and said some stuff. She said there was a strange problem that happened with the computer system over night, and it created a really bad smell and had all sorts of other 'symptoms. "When you go home tonight to talk to your parents about what was happening today, you need to remember these things. Nothing was dangerous, nothing was toxic, the school took extra precautions." Then she tried to get us to respond to some strange statement about Living the Goodness 'All the time' three times, but none of us really knew what she was talking about the first time, so we kinda just sat there and looked like dumbasses for a bit. I began to worry that we were going to start classes again, and I hoped that history time was over. But then Mr. Brocco started talking about how all after school stuff was cancelled. The whole gym erupted in cheers. Huzzah! No rehearsal! There was also to be a staff meeting in a corner of the gym or something. So we sat there for a bit until the teachers wandered back through the crowds. Danielle asked Mr. McCaw when he passed by if we got to go home.
"Possibly," he said. I hadn't expected that answer, so I was feelin' happy. "The phones and the computers aren't working, so we ha-"
"Ooh so if we have an emergency we can't call anybody!"
"Right."
I was excited. This was exciting. We were excited. NO history!
So, we kept our hopes up. Danielle figured that a good reason too would be 'what if we all ganged up on the teachers or something? Then no one could call for help! We should petition outside with signs that say: "Save the teachers! Send us home!"'
They ushered us back out of the gym and into our previous homerooms, where we all sat down on the floor and Mrs. Evashenk began writing instructions on the board. Watching eagerly as her writing progressed, twas time to bounce up and down when she wrote about calling a parent to either go home or stay at school. We were also supposed to check the school website that evening to see if school would be in session tomorrow. The group of seniors in our room went to their homeroom teacher in alphabetical order, and our group of sophomores went to Ms. Evashenk in alphabetical order. When it was my turn, I had to call a few times until Mom picked up, because she had been doing exercise routine and was listening to music. She said she'd pick me up at eleven thirty, which was about an hour from then. So I waited, and people slowly began to fade away to their homes until only a few were left in the classroom. Unfortunately in that time however, the sound of a bell resounded throughout the school, indicating the end of a class. The clock also began to tick. Damn.
They moved the remaining students to the Student Life Center, or the "SLC" where there are a bunch of vending machines, etc., and kept everyone on a master list to check out with people once your parent called yours or a teacher's cell phone number to say it was time for you to go home.
My mom finally came, so I went out to the car and shoved my huge pack of unpacked school stuff in the back seat. Then we drove over to Mema's and got to go out to Chevy's and eat lunch. Yay! I was so happy to have the day with no classes. They had been piling us up with so much homework lately that it was the biggest relief to know that we got a bit of a break.
When we checked the webiste that night though, in nice big red letter it exclaimed: "School will be in session Thursday, 9/15"
Yeah, that part sucked. Guess you can't win 'em all, though.

Loupgarou

:: 2005 29 July :: 4.17pm
:: Mood: anxious
:: Music: Feel Good Inc. - Gorillaz

I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down.
I don't like the rap part of this song, but I like 2D's voice for some reason, even though it's weird. And so I listen to it. Silly Gorillaz.

Now that I've actually started reading Wuthering Heights and gotten a fair ways into it, it really isn't that bad, once you get used to the old-fashioned writing style. It can be kind of confusing sometimes, because The narrator, Mr. Lockwood, uses so many adjectives that you wouldn't expect could be used for his purposes that you sometimes lose the meaning of what he was saying in the first place. But I've gotten used to it quickly enough, so I'm alrighty. It's kind of an interesting cute story.

Well, Wednesday was a busy day. Woke up nice and too early for my taste. Then we headed over to the orthodontist for my sister's appointment. I also had to go sit in the nice little reclining ortho chair because my retainer wire had broken a couple weeks back. Unfortunately, it couldn't be fixed, and now we have to buy another one. The pain is in Mom's wallet.
But we got the cheaper one. It's one of those invisiline ones. I guess it's better than my old one because there is no wire to break.

After that, yes indeed, the dreaded doctors office for a much-not-looked-forward-to physical. My pediatrician lady is pretty interesting. She's Hungarian and wears these one-pieced suits for some reason. Jump suits or something. Whenever she talks, she also hums.

"How have you been feelings lately, hmm?"
"Pretty good."
"-nod- Mmhm. Good, good. Been eating right? Drinking lots of milk?"
"Yeah, I think we get enough."
"Hm mmhm. At least three dairy products a day?"
"Oh okay, then yeah."
"Mmhm. -nod smile- very good.."

etc. It's not the type of 'thinking "hmm"' either. It's just a casual thing for her that she tosses into her sentences every few words.
So anyway, she so courteously chose me to go first and my sister second. Examinations happened, etc etc. Then it was over and I joined my sister in one of the other rooms. Soon though the large assistant nurse woman informed me that I needed shots. Not a big surprise to me, really, even though I still grumbled and complained under my breath. At least the TB test wasn't. So she stuck me in the forearm. I hate shots. I took this one much better though than I used to. Well, considering that I would run away when the time came for a shot. Keep in mind, when I say run away, I mean break free from my mother's and the nurse's grasp, sobbing and afraid, jump to reach the doorknob (which was specifically high to keep kids like me from running out), run out of the little check up room, down the hallway, grab another high doorknob, scamper through the waiting room, out the main door, down another hallway and out the building into the fresh bright evil morning, far away from such things as sharp objects that nurses like to deliberately stab you with.
Once I had gotten outside of the building, however, guilt had taken me over because one: I knew I had thouroughly embarrassed my mother, and two: it's not like I could run away forever and instead of take the shot and go home, get kidnapped in the wilderness of the somewhat suburbian city.
All this happened many years ago. So instead of run away again all the next times I had to get shots done, I could just settle for sobbing uncontrollably while the nurse and mother held me down.
This time though I was a big girl and needed neither nurse restraint nor mother restraint. The TB test was over. I rejoiced in my head, and the nurse lady gave me a "good girl" of praise, knowing how I used to be. 'Huzzah!' thought I! 'It's over except for the evil blood test!'
Nurse lady read the papers and then muttered something about a Tetnis shot.
"Tetnis shot?" Mommy, who is also a nurse, asked.
"What's that?"
Mom made a face of 'ick this won't be fun'.
"Don't make faces! It's not helping!" I pleaded. I wanted an answer to what it was and where she was going to stab me.
Nurse lady held in her had another syringe. "Let's see, which arm? Are you right handed or left-handed, sweetie?"
"Right-handed."
"Kay, so we should do it in your left arm."
Me: O_o. Inner thoughts: Is this going to completely disable me or something?! Why does it matter?
Hesitantly I turned to the side so she could aim for my upper arm. I remembered these types of shots when I was a kid. These were the big ones and they weren't pretty.
But I did it! Yay! I survived! .. And now my left upper arm muscle has been sore for three days and I can do nothing with it. This afternoon I rammed into the pantry door with my sore arm. Twas muy painful.
Anyway, then was the blood test. The lady doesn't do the ones in the arm yet. Only the finger ones. They always seemed to hurt the most though. So, I whined lots about this one too, because I thought they were going to use the one where they almost literally stab your finger. Luckily thought they used the one that they use on babies. It just feels like a really hard snap of a rubber band. Actually it hurts a lot more after it happens than when it does. So that was over with, and I watched the lady squeeze my finger so the blood came out and went into a little tube. Twas cool.

My sister only had the TB test and blood test done. Afterward we were done and standing in the hallway, Denise pushed past me rather rudely, so I instinctively "Dude!'-ed at her. Then she sat down and all the color drained out of her face and she was feeling dizzy. We had to take her to one of the check up rooms where she lied.. laid.. lay.. whatever down on the table thing for a while. Mom said her pulse was all racey and scattered as well. She had been very nervous about the check up I guess, and for some reason after the blood test it got to her and she felt like she was going to pass out. Eventually she was alright though and the doctor got her up and we all left and went to the little in-building pharmacy to buy some candy.

After that we all went to my grandma's for our weekly lunch outing. We ate at the restaurant in Nordstom's called 'The Bistro' and then walked around the mall a bit. Denise had been wanting to get her ears pierced for a while, but she was hesitant, so after much persuasion to do it, she got it done, and watching Mema's face was kind of funny. She was so excited. In the end, Mema paid for denise's piercings and for a pair or earrings that I wanted. I wanted to get second holes in my ears, but I'm broke and Mom says I'd have to pay for the second ones, so it didn't happen.

I love my Mema. She makes me sad, though. She really does. I wish that she would try harder to get better. I know that if she didn't want to, she wouldn't have to depend so much on that wheel chair. It makes me so unbelievably happy when I see her walking around confidently enough that she doesn't need the help of her walker.
If it was the case that I knew she couldn't get better, it wouldn't make me so sad, but knowing that it can happen and she's just not trying hard enough I think is sadder than if she couldn't walk frequently anymore at all. Any time someone tries to encourage her or nag her to walk more often though, she won't hear of it. She doesn't like talking about it because it will make her upset, and she won't.
Later that night I was talking to Mom about it. She had put a fire in the little fire pit thing outside in our backyard and we were sitting out there. I told her how Mema makes me sad, and was surprised to find that when I thought about it I actually started getting tears in my eyes, but I didn't want her to see, so I just kept staring into the fire.
Mom said that Mema for some reason was depressed a bit. I know that's she's gone through a lot in life. She lost a son when he was just a baby, her husband to cancer as they were supposed to grow old together, her grandson suddenly in an accident, had to have heart surgery and had at least three strokes (luckily none of them too serious) and other things like that, but she loves her family dearly, and knows how much we love her. Whenever she talks about her newest grandkids' (David and Anna) visits, she gets this light in her eye as she tells the stories of how cute they are, and you know how happy she is to see her family come by and visit so frequently.
But when her family isn't visiting, she sits in front of the television and watches old movies or something on lifetime and that's most of what she does all day when she's not out doing errands with her caretaker. She just swallows herself up in old black and white's and romance movies.

And I know how cheerful of a person she is when she's with people. She has the greatest sense of humor, and I love spending time with her when I can. But it hurts so much to think that she might be gone in a little while, and that she could have tried harder to stay healthier and walk more, or at least show some more determination. Because one of the things I've wanted since I was a child was to have her, along with my parents, live long enough to see me get married, and even have kids, because I know how happy thinking of that makes her. And I want everyone to meet her. My friends, my family, my children, and to know how wonderful of a person she really is. I love her so much, and I want people to know why.
Whenever she talks about me getting married, she seems so happy and so sad at the same time. It's as if my romance life is one of the most exciting things she likes to hear about, as long as I'm smart with it. I think I've written this before, but I remember a while back, we were watching a movie together, and there was this wonderful scene of a wedding. I told her I wanted to get married in Ireland, when the hills were greenest, and it was raining lightly outside. It would be in an old castle. She smiled, and her eyes smiled too. She said: 'That will be beautiful. And you have to promise to invite me to come. And if I can't go, I'll promise to be there anyway, watching you.' And I knew what she meant. She looked so sad as she said the last part of it that I could have cried right there, but I turned away, smile flickering away, and just said, in as happy a voice as I could manage: "Okay."

Wednesday night was actually the first time I had cried hard in a long time. Is that stupid, crying before she's even gone away? I don't know why I cried as hard as I did, but I did.

I want her to know how much I want her to stay around. I want her to know that sometimes she makes me sad, seeing her like this, but I can't very well tell her. I'm afraid she'll just get frusterated if I tell her she makes me sad. What if she just waves it away and says: "I don't wanna talk about it."

7 Will Feel Better Miles Away From Home | Play A Song For Me

:: 2005 15 July :: 10.33pm
:: Mood: excited
:: Music: Tainted World - D'espairsRay

Motto motto tension
Doooody doody! -twitch- you know what I realized a bit ago? I think in my icon the "Abel" is spelled wrong. I typed it in to google to see if it would correct me, and the silly thing didn't. Aw, pooper scoopers.

I really should be working on this wallpaper thingy for my friend. I'm still not super good at them, but I'm happy with what I can do so far.

Today I'm going to be a Harry Potter geek and go to Barnes and Noble at midnight. Chyaa, man! Plus hopefully I'll also be able to buy Angel Sanctuary #7. Muuaha! Evil side plots!

I restarted that Fruits Basket RPG I was running on greatestjournal from last summer. So far we have more characters, but are lacking in a Kyou O.o. Does anyone here know of someone who might want to play a character, if they are a Fruits Basket fan?

Ah, time to bid thee farewell! Apologies for the short and pointless update.

Ta ta!

4 Will Feel Better Miles Away From Home | Play A Song For Me

Loupgarou

:: 2005 12 July :: 2.45pm
:: Music: Come As You Are - Nirvana

Snap Crackle, POP!
Yodel! Wow, a month of no school is over already. This makes me sad. I don't want to go back. I already have a crapload of schoolwork to do (which I, by the way, haven't started), and then once August 29th (or whatever that date is) comes around, I'm doomed to more schoolwork!

And of course, as an example of my incomprehensible smartness that is me, I'm sitting here updating my journal instead of working on it. So then I guess in all technicality I don't have the right to complain. But OH! I must!

Maybe, as another waste of time that will make my mother rather angry at me, I will change the layout of this journal. But first -- laundry! Oh, joy in my heart! Well, it's a small load. And towels. Which is good, because any time I can avoid doing socks, I will. -shudders- Oh, the evilness of sorting socks.

You know what is kind of confusing on peoples' journals? Those backgrounds that move while you're trying to read the text on top of it. It kinda makes you dizzy and you want to barf, you know? You're getting sea-sicks from someone's journal. I mean, it's cool and all I guess, but if it makes people hurl when they are reading it, it's kind of pointless, because then no matter how cool it is, if it makes people blow chunks, they aren't going to want to read it.
Like all my synonyms for vomitting?
((My sincerest apologies if I have offended any one with cool backgroundy-moving vomitty journals. I mean no offense, really ^.^. And I know that sounds sarcastic with the little 'vomitty' adjective added in there. But really, if you have one, sorry. PLEASE FORGIVE ME!))

The Hunchback of Notre Dame is a good frickin soundtrack. I like it indeed, I do.

Well, anyway, guess I'd better fold the eeevil laundry and stare blankly at the eeevil history homework, or perhaps the lovely Wuthering Heights book that has already begun to bore me, and I've gotten to the top of the second page so far. But then again, it could be so boring to me because I'm reading a better one on my own free will. Guenevere, Queen of the Summer Country by Rosalind Miles. I love anything having to do with King Arthur and Peter Pan. In fact, I bought Le Morte d'Arthur which is huge and another book I really want to read over the summer. (Ah, so much to do, so little time).
Anyway, Guenevere, Queen of the Summer Country book is good, but she makes Merlin a half-badguy, Taliesin and Merlin two different people (I'm used to the Mists of Avalon book where they are one in the same. In this book I actually like Taliesin better than Merlin. Really, though, I don't mind too much that they are two different people. It's a different turn on it and I think it's pretty cool), and Morgan le Fay is evil. That last one bothers me the most. I love Morgan. Nevertheless, it's still a good book, and everyone is allowed to have their own version of the King arthur story, after all. And also, now that it's mentioned, Guenevere bears Arthur a son, who is killed seven years after his birth. I'm not familiar with that. I always thought that she never bore Arthur a child and that she was pretty much barren. But then again I could just be stupid. So I think that it might be another one of this author's twists in the story. But then again, like I said, I could have never looked into the story completely enough. Ah, oh well. Hardy har.

The laundry calls.