pre cal cul us. um. gee im a tree?
siiigh.

chem is try.

subliminal mind fuck america
long long long long long time.

happy autumn equinox. or as some call it, Mabon. so happy mabon to those of you who call it that.

man, yesterday was free cone day at DQ. and i missed out. big sad face.

might be going to gotham hall saturday. maybe x-fest, but probably not. my mother wants "parental supervision."

god help me.

teachers heart homework.
i heart boys.

thats why school is getting harder.

everyday before lunch me and jenna wait for ana. and she throws apple stems at me. silly ana.

i want to bombard jenna when she works and make it difficult to seat me at a table.

fun times.

Take the quiz: "Which Random Irish Gaelic Phrase Are You? "

Ta mo bhriste tri thine
Ta mo bhriste tri thine - 'My trousers are on fire.'You're a few bricks short of a load, aren't you? You're probably not allowed to use sharp objects and you should be locked in a rubber room. With Rubber rats. Rubber rats? I hate rubber rats. They drive me crazy. Crazy? I was crazy once. They put me in a rubber room. With rubber rats. Rubber rats? I hate rubber rats...

i guess forever just got a hell of a lot shorter.
school.

im going to stab my world history teacher.

and ive come upon something.

last year i had a lesbian biology teacher named ms. freis. (pronounced 'freeze').
this year i have a (seemingly) gay chemistry teacher named mr. winter.

what is next? a transexual physics teacher named mr. snowflake?

good lord.

but i wanted you to know..

you make my heart melt.

such fickle words
no school for the rest of the week.

stupid fucking charley.

we've had a total of four days of school. and i would like to go back and see all of my friends in my classes. grah.

im still having really messed up dreams.

last night consisted of obstacle courses, being blind, and running down dusty hills.

anyways. so far in school, chem is my favorite because winter kicks ass.

everyone thinks he is gay though, and i wouldnt be suprised if he was. not to sound stereotypical.

and i learned how to play piano yesterday.

im not very good, i can only do one song from memory.

but ive written a few songs. and im trying to get the melody on the piano, so i can transfer it to guitar.

"and i dream of a place called home."

i awake to find no peace of mind
its hard for me to explain what happened over the summer.

my perspectives shifted. i think differently on topics than i did before, but i guess that's natural. i will show pictures when i can. because pictures replacing words is becoming evermore common in our society.

but ive had two nightmares. one is long and strange. its too long to type. if you really want to know (which i doubt you do) then just tell me and i will.

but my other nightmare is different. i didn't feel scared during it. and although you may call me morbid, or twisted, or delusional, in a sense it was almost beautiful.

i still dont know why i categorize it as a nightmare, but i guess its the only word that can describe it.

a guy that is 18 years old wearing faded denim jeans is dragging a girl by the hair across a cement floor. her hair is blond and she is clawing at this boy's arm, but he doesn't notice.

and the girl looks like she is screaming her lungs out. crying and screaming for her life. but all i hear is opera music.

and i can remember it so vividly.

she didn't open her eyes. i only saw the boy's legs. but i knew he was 18. don't ask how, its a dream. her top was a beige-ish color, and it was smudged with dirt along the shoulder. the guy was wearing dark brown shoes, they kind of looked like boots.

but i just heard this beautiful opera music.

i cant even describe it.

what's left thats worth anything anymore?
i = layout whore.

you almost make me happy
maybe life is scary, but it’s also exhilarating. you know, it’s kinda like skydiving or something. you do it.

it scares the crap out of you and it might make you puke.

but it was probably the most fun you’ll ever have. if you’re too afraid to jump out of the plane, you might be safer, but you’ll miss out on all the fun.

i'm bending the truth
Looking into oneself has become cliche, in a society where writing down your innermost thoughts for the world to read is a common occurence.

Some people take time off, others hold people at an arm's length, while others hold on tightly to whatever they can hold on to.

Because somewhere in a kitchen there could be a woman stopping the dishwasher, her yellow-gloved hands in the soapy water, gazing out the window, realising that she always wanted to be an actress but had become a mother too soon. On the other hand, there could be a spinster in a rocking chair, crying over the child she had aborted when she was young, feeling more alone than ever. And maybe, in a hospital somewhere a doctor could be holding up a newborn by its ankles, marvelling at the miracle he had just performed. Elsewhere, who knows, a college student could be cheating in an examination, to meet his parent's expectations.

As for me, I lie in bed till 2 in the morning, writing about my passions and dreams in black ink, thinking back on past experiences, present circumstances, and the mystery of the future.

Thinking of past lives, of threads and stars. Of Universes in one's palm. Of portals into the soul, of lost convictions, postcards and passports, of jumping from one mountain to another.

Self-introspection leads me into viewing my Life in some basement, a slice of dust-light from the projector beaming images, episodes, and sketches of the quilt I'm slowly stitching together.

And I watch my Life so far with a smile, bittersweet, and sometimes I laugh out loud, and cry. Most of the time I keep quiet, watching the slideshow in awe. Everything I've ever held close to my heart, I watch.

Elementary notebooks filled with summer drawings. The cresecendos and lulls of my favourite songs. My first paperback book. The sting of a palm slapping my cheek. My mother's laugh. Watching a plane take off from behind an airport window, shielding my eyes from its silver brightness.

Fingers intertwining. The taste of tears, saying goodbye at the airport. The shock of hearing about someone's cancer. Seeing a wedding. Beautiful sunsets I've collected, midnight walks. Slipping stones into my pocket.

Looking back, looking within.