to my friends...
i want to tell you all how beautiful you are.

physical beauty is nothing in comparison to what i have learned of you in the short period i have known you.

this is to:

so theres a k9 advantix commercial and its awesome...i love it it sooo adorable!!!

have fun!

Hello mother, hello father,
fleas, ticks, mosquitos really bother
thanks for the package,
thats why im writing
k9 advantix quickly stopped all the biting!

swimming, hiking, and tent-pitching
they're not biting!
im not itching!
cant wait to show you
all my new tricks!
thanks again for sending me k9 advantix!!!

its weird...my toenail is bruised....like purple...but it doesnt hurt.....

oh well...

~The only way to get what you want is to become a human yourself...

*can you do that?

~my dear, sweet child...thats what i do...its what i live for...to help unfortunate merfolk, like yourself...poor souls with no one else to turn to...

I admit that in the past ive been a nasty
they werent kidding when they called me well, a witch
but youll find that nowadays, ive mended all my ways
repented, seen the light and made the switch,
true? yes.

and i fortunatly know a little magic,
its a talent that i always have possessed,
and dear lady, please dont laugh,
i use it on behalf of the miserable, the lonely, and depressed
pathetic...

Poor unfortunate souls, in pain, in need
this one longing to be thin and that one wants to get the girl and do i help them?
yes indeed.
Those poor unfortunate souls, so sad, so true
they come flocking to my cauldron,
crying spells that they need,
and i help them, yes i do.

Now its happened once or twice,
someone couldnt pay the price...
and im afraid i had to rake 'em 'cross the coals,
yes, ive had the odd complaint,
but on the whole ive been a saint
to those poor unfortunate souls!!

~now have we got a deal

*if i become human, ill never be with my father or sisters again...

~but...youll have your man...life's full of tough choices, i'nt it?

Oh! and there is one last thing...we havent discussed the subject of paym-

*but i dont have any-

~im not asking much, just a token, merely trifle...what i want from you is...your voice...

*but without my voice, how can i-?

~you'll have your looks, your pretty face...and dont under estimate the importance of....body language...ha!

the men up there dont like a lot of blabber...
they think a girl who gossips is a bore
yes, on land its much preferred
for ladies not to say a word
after all, what is idle prattle for?

com'on they're not all that impressed with conversation,
true gentlemen avoid when they can
but they dote and swoon and fawn
on a lady who's withdrawn
its's she who holds her tongue who gets her man

com'on you poor unfortunate soul
go ahead, make your choice,
im a very busy woman and i havent got all day
it wont cost much, just your voice

ya poor unfortunate soul
its sad but true:
if you want to cross a bridge my sweet
you've got to pay the toll
take a gulp and take a breath
go ahead and sign the scroll
flotsam, jetsom, now i got her boys
the boss is on a roll!

these poor unfortunate souls!!!!!!!

(crazy spell here...)

...the winds of the caspian sea!!
la voche to me!

~now sing!

*(sings)

~keep singing

*(sings more)

::pretty music::

okie i have a creative writing project that i got today and i couldnt wait to write. i have to take a picture (i like this one) and use it as inspiration for a story, using the quote that goes along with the piece. this is my story.

“Mother?” she only sobbed. “Mother, what is the matter?” Her lack of an answer made the girl look down in shame at her skirt, which was covered in dirt because of her pondering hours in the woods. She knew exactly what had happened. It had been going on for months, or at least this horrible. Actually, she could remember back to the second grade when she’d cover her ears and scream so she could have her own peace. The yelling only added to the noise she had always attempted to avoid, as the girl enjoyed a kind silence, such as that which hid deep in the woods, where she took refuge frequently. She wanted to hug her mother, whether she was dirty or not, but the bent figure was tough and she was cautious of it. The woman was not generally violent, nor did she upset easily, and so the girl did not know how to comfort her. She sat in the chair, watching the tears stream and the red blotches grow, listening to the quick inhales and sobs, which, apparently, had begun quite a while before she arrived.
Later, after the crying had ceased, she embraced her mother around her middle with love. She ran to the center of Mulberry Forest, feeling the wind rush through her hair and pull back her clothes, allowing the grass and sticks to whip her hands and bare legs. The wind died once the trees became denser, and she slowed as a result of the abundance of fallen branches and broken trunks. The forest floor was covered in colours brilliant enough to see for miles. The damp leaves peeked through dying grasses and protected rocks from little girls who wished for a seat. She shoved off the reds and yellows, exposing a hard slate-coloured stone. She threw herself upon it and cried into her hands, tolerating the itch of the salty tears that ran down her arms and onto her knees. What did she want? If he left, they would have to scrounge for money, as her mother only kept her own house and cared for her own child. But would he stay and continue to torment the lives of those he insisted he loved. She made up her mind that he should die-although harsh and critical, it was best. They would inherit his money and visit kindly to his grave.
For weeks, the ten-year-old sat in the old apple tree, watching blue turn to pink and slowly fade to black. She pretended the tree was her castle, and she watched over the kingdom until she no longer could. She would slowly walk home, only to find her mother slamming pots in the sink, with a drink in hand, or asleep on the couch in the living room. One night, the girl gently woke her, and the women slapped the child for the disruption. Now the only possible companion had abandoned her, and she watched the window for her father until she fell asleep. She truly did love him, although the combination of her parents was like that of orange juice and milk. The lactose counteracts the effects of the acidic juice and the two cause quite the stomachache. She supposed they got along once, because they appear to be happy in the adorable wedding picture that sat on her dresser. Every night, she stared at the picture, pondering a once peaceful childhood, and wondering if the day she married would be horrible or wonderful.
Months passed, and the girl didn’t notice. Every moment was an oblivious observation of the world. She spent the entire week in her dream world sometimes, ignoring her mother’s drunken threats and blocking out the neglect she knew she lived in. Dinner became apples until winter, when she would tramp through the snow, playing that she was a wolf attempting to bring her pups fresh meat. Soon spring came and shades of red, blue, and purple decorated the newly green bushes that lined the fences. She snacked on them, imagining their use as dye in the days when Indians roamed the way she did constantly.
Her rock became worn with everyday use, and it now represented a nicely crafted simpleton chair. She stared at the damp ground, and slowly arranged her eyes upon the carelessly placed bushes. It appeared to be a fat man, she thought; one who comes from the south, with a bushy moustache and funny sombrero. She giggled at the funny image, and part of the belt began to move. “Oh, his pants will fall for sure!” She moved closer to find the buckle had only been two small caterpillars, green with yellow spots. Their chubby bodies moved slow, beginning with the first four legs, and following rhythmically in fours, the other eight legs. The bodies scrunched and straightened repeatedly, moving onto her gentle hand, from which she observed the spots carefully. She sat with them in the kind silence for a moment before she spoke.
“You will not yell at me. You can be my friends.”
Scrunch. Tiny steps. Scrunch.
“You with the black bottom can be Oscar. And you can be Alphonse, unless of course, either of you disagree.”
Their only response was to squish and fix their bodies as if they were accordions playing a slow, melodramatic ballad. The girl began to tell them all of her feelings. She could cry and tell someone as they explored the length of her arm and overcame the mountains of her skirt’s folds. For two weeks, she kept Oscar and Alphonse in a cup with the Holy Bible to hold them in on her dresser next to the wedding picture. She would take them to the woods, allowing them to munch varieties of grasses and leaves on a snuggly, warm piece of polyester. Summer would come soon, and she anticipated the warm sun’s rays. She could hardly contain her excitement for when she could talk to her new, patient friends in a place and light where they could only reflect and magnify the brilliance of the summer.
One day, on the way home from the forest, she stopped, watching them intently. She realized that they would soon be curling up in their cocoons, and emerging as magnificent butterflies. She knew it was time to send them back. The caterpillars softly wiggled in her hand, spelling out “goodbye”. They were leaving her as quickly as her father had, and as her childhood would be. She didn’t mind their absence, though. Their change was natural, as hers would be, and they cared enough to say goodbye to the confidant. She walked home, and returned to the forest before dawn, and began to watch the black turn to pink to blue in kind silence.

tell me what you think please...

hate.
they say hate is a powerful word. the same can be said of love. love is used to describe family, those who care for you and surround you in the same noun. it is used to explain relationships between those friends whom stand by your side in times of hardship, and for significant others throughout your lifetime whom squeeze all the pain away with their acceptance and tolerance.

if you asked a child to tell you what hate is, they would simply tell you that they hate the little boy who took his or her fruit snacks at lunch that day. if you ask a corporate manager, he would tell you he hates traffic and late employees. Ask a teenager, and you cannot begin to guess what one would say. some would tell of those who have permanatly damaged them, whether mentally, physically, or psychologically. Another may describe an incident in which trust was established and betrayed. But a definition one can never forget is that of childhood sculpting.

there are stories and movies frequently about a child who's been tossed between foster homes after being abandoned carelessly by birth parents (white oleander). Some grow up in the midst of drug addicted and/or dealing parents (blow; riding in cars with boys). those children and a few other cases, are those who grow up independent, worrying if other people are okay, because they know what it is like to be forgotten. they could survive in almost any situation. But so could other children.

Abuse shelters are common nowadays as a result of the abuse throughout american, and many other nations', homes. Not only verbal and bruising, but sexual as well. Women who stay in these homes have the option to leave, whether they allow themselves to believe it or not. Children, on the other hand, grow up esteemless, not knowing if the boundries are the same everywhere as they were at home. This is the most typical abuse and can often result in self destruction. Several of the psychological weaknesses stem from such abuses, although they do also begin with neglect.

walking into most houses for the first time, you couldnt point out the spot where the man knocked his wife to the floor, or discover evidence of a daughters struggle to restrain him from futher abuse. You couldn't discover the tiny shards of glass from angry fists. it'd be difficult to detect the signs of an uncles fingers unappropiatly on his neice when you lay down to sleep in that very same bed. the murder that occured in his sleep ten years ago is invisible to all who suggest such. the smell of alcohol and cocaine has been covered by deoderizing ingredients, and one would never know.




i cannot tell you that i have been raped, or sexually abused, because i havent. i couldnt really say i have been hit, although i have, but it's rare and only by arms weakened by drunken dizziness. and anyway, i have grown stronger. everyone has at one time or another been told they could not achieve what they would like, or been let down by a friend, and so i could tell you that it has happened to me.

but of the expiriences that i have, most things hurt, but strengthen. that "sticks and stones may break your bones", and so it is true, but they couldnt possibly break your heart. they would not destroy your sanity, only possibly your brains functions. "but words will never hurt you". The most untrue cliche i have ever heard. words not only begin and end wars, but they echo through houses where they begin a deterioration of ones developing brain.

i remember being about twelve years old and being so excited to tell my parents i wanted to be an actress, just like all the ones i saw on TV. my mother smiled and told me it was a good aspiration...but i knew she didnt really notice what i had suggested with enthusiasm, because her eyes had not left the screen of the tv, and her hand remained on her cigarette. i chattered on for a minute, just as any talkative child would, and her hand would raise, with puffs of smoke escaping her young, but wrinkled lips. Her hand would change frequently to the fat yellow plastic cup in which sat two ice cubes and cheap wine from a box.

Upon telling my dad the same yearning, he replied, "oh, wonderful, my daughters going to end up on a street corner". He brought down all my dreams though, which was a lot for someone who was rarely home. i told him of my dog bisquit business, which actually did succeed for a month, and he told me i was being ridiculous.

my mother had always been a mother, which is more than some can say. whether she was a good mother or not is up to one's own discretion. She was not the type to sled with me and the only memory i have of her playing with me is when she taught me to ride a bike, which ended in her talking to the neighbour and me teaching myself. Independence.

My father's participation in my life was more so than my brother's i suppose, but less joyful. He was a race car driver in both of our younger lives and although he rarely saw him, was kind to my brother. i was too young to remember most of the life, but appeared at the track frequently as well. he began his own business, which allowed him to come home at seven or so. life was never good with my dad. He played the good guy. he'd make the same complaints about my mum as i would have, and i didnt see much of the bad side of him...until one particular day, in which i realised my dad wasnt a sweet guy. my brother hugged me in his room, trying to protect me from the screaming and harm that came to either parent. it became something to me and to my mother once my brother moved out. his distructive words always told us we would amount to nothing, although he knew only the biggest happenings in our lives. our success is all that he would care about achieving, and our failures or lack of success would make him ballistic. he told me recently "i'm not listening to you until you get your grades up" he deemed my speech unintellegent unless homework proved me so. i replied that i, too, would not listen to him until he made more money, because as my effort was not enough for him, his sighs and complaints of troubles at the shop did not qualify for success. honestly, i didnt really care, but the perspective is what i was going for.

one thing i have learned from a negative society is that no matter how many compliments are issued, the horrible failures stay in your mind. your own failures are not as destructive as those who you love's ability to point them out in the most hurtful ways.

All pain is significant in our lives. it determines how the straight line is bent to get to our destinations. it molds our personalities into something that others can relate to, no matter the reason. sadly, the thing that manages companionship also derives from it.


::sigh::

...im done...

neils supposed to come over.

i miss him.

yes already.

my four biggest worries for the end of the year/next year:

~losing boyfriend

~losing half of friends/all of friends

~failing/ having to take classes again

~moving away

any of the above topics are saddening, in fact, if i start talking about them, ill cry...

its all okie now...
hola all...thank you to jill for calling me and letting me know my little issue with mr neil. i talked to him...we walked...and watched the sunset over the lake, listening to the geese talk to each other. i told him that i expect him to know better, especially since we've been through this before, in which case i could also talk to goli, but i cant really in this episode. i told him if expects me to respect his wishes in not commenting about his mismatching or bad smell at odd moments (if you dont know, dont assume...you can ask...if you care), i also expect him to respect the fact that i get jealous and that it makes me nervous...
what's worse: he knew he was doing it! it was funny cuz he says i was walking with my hand on her shoulder today after class (jill sayd neck but eh) and later on says i wasnt even near her today...i was like uh huh...it was kinda hard to have your hand on her shoulder if you werent close to her. he's talked to chris about it before...i've talked to trix and jill about it before...my parents have noticed. its bad when i notice...worse when my girl friends notice...but when the guys notice as well...thats awful, 'specially since they're pretty flirty too. even more to my disappointment, he had talked to chris about it recently, and apparently only noticed in the last week...
...but he seemed to understand where i was coming from and decided to talk to her and stop the madness...and my jealousy...a girlfriend should not be jealous of other girls flirting wtih her boyfriend. okie...history paper...thanks again guys

::squee::
i am overwhelmed with joy



Gir Pillowcase...you have no heart if you dont think this is cute




Mister Spooky!!!




so...easter's coming...




if you wonder what my icon is...here you go.




I want like everything on this page...even the air freshener!




gasp!...its me




eep! its soo funny!...dont get it....you loser.

ahhh piggy and gir!

okie i think im done.


so i was thinking about something for neil for 1 april cuz its our ten month...

once when we were out for dinner and i made him a heart of the pink sugar packs and

...since i'll be in arizona,

ill frame the pink heart with "Absence makes the heart grow fonder." in the middle...


yup...thats all for today...adios

thing
want some entertainment?

E-Shrooms

yea.....its a party.....

so i was searching for a picture of an eye...and i found these....

this site looks awesome...its a game thats going to come out...and the images are amazing...i love the dark twist on alice in wonderland...
Little Beast

Blue Eye

joseph pictures...
so we did "joseph and the amazing technicolour dreamcoat" and if youd like to see the pictures. the sheep trix and jill and jen and jackie and i made...the scarab (the big green thing that looks like a guitar...its supposed ot be a modern symbol...for elvis...if you know the show you understand) was made by sarah, blair, stephanie, shay and i did a little bit. The cacti were sarahs, stephanies and lauras...the palm trees were also sarahs...with random people...but jen did most of the corn...and the gold coins. thanks to chris for the lights and spencer for the sound (but you cant really see it) and to sandy and goli for being in the picutres lol...i odnt know what else to thank you guys for...lol thanks for your wonderful voices...!

adios...thas all folks! ::dun dun dun dunn duuuun::

^hm...guess what thats about...
yea so guess what song jen and i listened to today...lol....its in my head...

sorry i never updated about theatre fest....or the concert...didnt even talk about joseph......or the act....probably cuz i havent been on....id love to complain...cept it doesnt bother me that much until someone goes...you have to do this by this date...specially if its before march twenty fourth, seeing as i have six projects due by then, two of which are due tmro. woo...two down! this kid is such a moron. im working with him in spanish...first he doesnt let me help, then he cant even spell sun (sol) and for god sakes wont fucking believe me when i tell him the hurricane is one so the verb will be singular...but oh well...i have my prose analysis presentation tmro eighth period. i shall die. i hate presentations...at least in spanish i have a partner....

today jen and i went to mcdonalds and shopping with charlie...hes funny as hell...i love him to death...not like that...but anyone who thinks charlies an ass needs a life cuz i think hes awesome. he can get obnoxious but i think anyone can, and you learn not to take him seriously...

you know it really makes me wonder...i dont care who reads this...but when lisa decided "i think ill throw a fit now to see how many people side with me about something so incredibly stupid that happened three months ago" she said ", i really dont even care about whatever happens with me/jorie. i would have cared a few months ago, but now, im used to not liking her, so it really doesn't make a difference. its just amazing how long it took her." and i wondered...how the fuck can anyone tell that youre mad at them if you walk around, saying hi in the fakest high pitched voice as if youre sad as fuck but acting happy...but noticably? she was quick to point out how she hated when i corrected peoples english, how jill and kyle didnt like my comments on looking younger in the dress for HC and for saying he needs a haircut, and how im "dilusional". She also mentioned how i never listen to anyone and basically dont deserve to have any friends...and then suddenly shes all nice to me as if the "war" either never happened or was solved. the cause of it all was because i wrote her a very nice email, possibly too nice, asking her to please clean up her mess when she comes over, because i dont like doing it, nor do my parents. and so, suddenly she was mad at shaina cuz "shaina sided with jorie instead of me" "she may have gotten shaina". oh lord....honestly...i didnt even care...the girl called me a bitch, so i kindly told her i could read...ooh lets start a one-sided arguement and convince ourselves we're losing...woo...but recently...this is what bothers me.
i dont mind that people are her friends (cuz everyone needs friends)...but i find it slightly pathetic to say "this is a shout out to all yall out there who think you're my friend. just wondering how many of you there are. so leave me a comment, k?" feeling abandoned is okie...asking for support is another...but three entries spent on "guys support me i feel friendless today!"...arrg...because you know shes just searching for pity...and whats worse is that people complain and complain about her...about how she does this...and thne the moment comes when she does it...and "oh im sorry lisa ::hug::"...are we no longer aware of the word hypocritical...?

if any of you disagree thats your perogitive...thats my thoughts, this is my journal...if you have any thoughts...put them...but i dont need to recieve hate mail because i wont respond...and its very pointless.

in other thoughts...im tired as fuck. i want to sleep...two presentations tmro...did i already say that? oh yes...thats right. my back really hurts. auditions are next monday. its wednesday. ::sigh::

i want to audition but not make it. i want to do crew but i want to know if the possibility is there. yea. i finally made callbacks for razzle and one acts so i know that they have started to like me...whether my acting or just cuz they feel bad. i should do all my papers this week and not have anything to worry about for the rest of the month. yea...right...okie i have to go finish my spanish outline so i can start memorizing...sweet dreams

2 three drinks behind | martini?

I’ll write about the concert later cuz it’s nearly time to leave but im tired as fuck (it’s really fuckin tired sandy) lol but my back hurts and my neck and im tired cuz jen couldn’t sleep so she talked (am not shur if it was to herself or to us after we started trying to go to sleep) *still love ya jen* okie one minute…bye!

pudding
i made pudding.

stunkel and Q
im not really annoyed...cept theyre playing with cell phone rings...were waiting for the chinese food...star search is on...i watched big fish...its really good! it made me smile and cry and jen, do you want to see the butterfly effect with me? okie thats all for now...i forgot what i was going to say...lol Q plays drums for a band htat contains kurt, shavel, devon, fritz, and farrell. lol...i laughed...

dream
so i had a dream. you know how you have deja vu dreams? well i had one of those a long time ago...where i was in an elevator with two other people and i just knew the elevator broke and i was going to die. but that was it. i just knew it never happened. last night i had a dream and i was eating something with shrimp in it and i left the table and took the plate i think to go to a hotel room and i was eating it with my fingers. i got in the elevator and the door closed and it started going and i realised it was the same as the dream before so i threw down the plate and screamed (or maybe it was in my head) we're going to die! the elevator stopped and fell. i was in it until it was almost to the bottom and then the view was from the top of the shaft and i saw the elevator smash on the floor...which is weird cuz if you know anything about elevator shafts, they usually go a floor lower than the last floor, not just stop on the floor, unless of course it ended a floor before the one it landed on...i dont know...well anyway. somehow i ended up out side of the elevator and sort of wondered what happened to the two guys (there was one on either side of me and the one on the right had a business suit on that i ruined with the shrimp) but the floor was cold, white and empty...i tried to hold on and when i was about to give up, a man and his two little girls came. i knew them, but i was still a kid so it wasnt my husband and daughters. i erm...cant think of word. well i dragged myself toward them and the little girl sat next to me. i told her that i needed help, because you know, it wasnt completely obvious. so i ended up in a hospital bed and my mum and the nurse were in there and my mum was catering to me like she always does when am sick. everyone was there. my friends i noticed patrice and jen and sandy...but everyone else had their back turned. one day, i was laying in the bed and i heard the doctor say soemthing to my mum and i didnt like it. i waited until they were gone and went out. i went down the hallway which looked oddly like a white vernon hills high school hallway with lockers. i dont know what happend after that...the dream is diminishing from my brain.

turnabout
this whole turnabout thing is pissing me off. ive got to talk to neil...maybe we'll just go by ourselves.i dont want to go to an italian place and i know im going to lose that battle. jill wont go if its crazy, jackie wont go if patrice doesnt go and the person patrice was going to ask (or so said jackie) just got asked. why does this cause so much shit. why cant we all just ask who we want and go in groups of four! ::hff:: my dress is pretty tho...that im happy about. and ill smell nice (ama take a shower) thats always a good thing.

turnabout
so seeing as everything is already planned (rarr) my mum is trying to plan everything and arg! shes making appointments and i had everything all decided and now shes confusing me and i dont know what to do and now im getting frustrated. so i tried to decide on a hairstyle...and cant. can you help me?

my favourite