Care Tonight

You had kind eyes
The ones that held the love and wisdom to teach a boy
Teach him that there is love everywhere
Even when he doesn't feel it
And when he cries
He could always turn to see that someone is there

I like those eyes

You have red eyes
The ones that scream in pain while tears blister
Your voice trembles over the dinner table
As you scratch your way back to bed
Because everything hurts you now

I miss your eyes

You have everything
And I hate myself for not even realizing that someday
You won't be there to smile with me

And that someday could be tomorrow


I'm not ready to stop smiling

Stoplight Roulette

I'll the know the world is ending
When I hear your voice in the radio
Emitting the lies that I once held so dear to my heart
Transmitting the words that deteriorate us

I'll gamble my life
With the barrel of a revolver in my mouth
Before I give it to you again

Drown

There is something romantic about not breathing
Unconscious intimacy dwelling on the dark side of dreams
As close to understanding what little we know as we will get
As truth and shallow worlds and hydrogen and oxygen wave over me

I want to see the blue turn into black
Send my nightmares and hopes to the bottom of the sea
Wash away what writings I tend to leave on the surface
And scrape the etchings of time away from the charred remains of renovation

I want to stop breathing
Stop the warm, consistent flow to know why I was brought here
Not have the burden of the sensation of weight of any sort among me
But just drifting down into the ocean, clear and black in harmony

Shared Documents

My eyes turn back
Search the inner electric synapses of my brain
Find out the plug is short circuiting my hardware
Stinging pulsation of volts shock my memory

Push to remember

I used to worship God
I taught myself how to write out of hate for the pencil grip
I had a multitude of imaginary friends that consistently moved away
I never lost a football game against myself in the backyard
I planted the maple tree at the corner of the fence

The maple tree is still there, but it is not mine
The backyard I used to conquer is now someone else's stadium
The friends have moved away and are in imaginary high school
The handwriting is sloppy and uneven because of the incorrect finger placement
And I find nothing in the word of God

Declaration of War

I want you to scream insecurities
Beg and plead to hear the words we once portrayed on canvas
Because one day, these words will go to waste
Buried before our corpses touch the casket
My last breath is less anticipated than my last word

One day, desolate deserts of despair will become the majority of the Earth
As our water decays and fades away into the ozone
Turn to toxins and venom after the contamination from my stabbing words
And rain hate all over the city you are in
So that not only will you be consumed in the rapture of regret
But you will watch the buildings you touched be purged of your recollection

I hope you feel as every memory burns and dissipates into nothing
Not even air
As that is still sustainable through the art of breathing
I hope the rain drowns and suffocates you
So that you will black out in the collapsing scene of this film
And wake up in the next scene in the credits
Far away from the public view
And be forced to watch the words escape the page
And watch you scrape at the screen to take them back

I want you to be corroded by the edge of my declaration of war
Let the wishes of the words and verbs take you away
As those are all we have left to fight our battles with

Challenge Her

The world is going down
Sinking into the black oblivion of the universe
Magnitude outplays longitude
Can you read our depth by the constellations?
How deep are we in?
When will we meet again?
When will we hit the dense bottom of the founding of life itself?
If cities on Earth are burning
Who is out there to keep us turning?
Suddenly nothing matters
The history we have made
The progress compiled
So minuscule in the grand scheme
Never have the stars looked so big
We can see the breath pulsate and resonate off of the light
The steel skeletons of the corporations are nothing now but dust
Even through the end, survival is not a must
Predestination makes no sense
We are destined to die

Unlocked

Low key
Slowly
Lead fills me up to my forehead
Help me from falling
Can't keep it up
I'll end up asleep on the floor

Don't help me
Leave me here
I can do it on my own
I swear
No need to kneel

You're A Balloon Booth

On the contrary
You are quite the carnival game
As we waste what we value
At your low funded and deserved gain
You seem to know how to play your own stage
Pop our wishes, hopes, and dreams
Knock down our smiles and self esteem
You are a puddle of misconstrued ligaments
Not much else seems to hold you together
We pay for you to have your way
Put down the mic that is your name
And leave us to play our game
And God forbid you see us smile
As this is war
Metal piercing the shallow, scattered hearts on the board
If for any reason it is your value on the mark
Drop the darts and the money and run
Turn away empty handed
Prizes are for winners only
And you make sure to make us feel the latter

Modern Motive

Contemporary is my new favorite word
It surrounds me
I have a contemporary pencil
Contemporary paper
Contemporary hair and clothing

I am the modern man
No mask will turn back time for me
Nostalgia has no home here

Contemporary house
Contemporary classroom
Contemporary friends

We find going outside a thing of the past
Digital and superficial worlds lay inside
Change is the booming business associate here

Contemporary art
Contemporary money
Contemporary crime

We can illegally alter our identity now
With just a sequence of altered and arranged numbers
Who are we here?

Opportunity Equipment

You've got blue jean shoes and a ripe attitude
HB2 says the might between my fingers
Manipulate the greatest powers you couldn't conceive
If at a time you would actually write
Not paint a picture for your newest flavor
But take time to realize that words mean more
More than just, "You're pretty and I like you"
But can give the trumpet at Jericho something to die for
We establish war and peace with a simple pen
The legal commitment and exile of life is signed after spoken
We write out words that you have broken

You call yourself a poet
No
You are a harasser of fluency
Murderer of monotonous medians
Generic dropout of theme
You think you have talent because of positive outlook
Positive input
You have never heard what you need to hear

So I will tell you
You are nothing more than a love sick
Fragment prone
Image densing
Anger commencing
Scribbling
Waste of breath and paper
With a pen

Educate Me

I couldn't help but to notice that you are a lot like my school schedule

Algebra:
You are a tab bit difficult to understand
Variables and complexes that lead to holding hands
Equations and intercepts that make it unclear
Getting past first period is just unconscious fear

English:
We begin to speak as soon as you come outside
Talking of modeling and bad music for the ride
It's when the silences never surface
That tonight has given more than purpose

Theater:
It's about time we start to act
Although nothing will happen, aware of this fact
If the night is our curtain, the mountain the stage
The first scene went well, from your reaction I gauge

Lunch:
Lunch is not a class. I don't compare women to objects, let alone food.

Latin:
Hidden meaning lost in your words
But gentle acceptance is given assured
Translate the story you've hidden in key
Lost in perception, regardless of me

Chemistry:
Here we finally feel to connect
Ionic bonds won't let us forget
This is temporary, a change of state
Properties leave as a mixture separates

Sociology:
Why? Why does it happen this way?
As we approach the end of the day
Talk are in depth and gathering meaning
The theory of cause is less than a feeling






I honestly think this is a crap poem. I just like my idea behind it.

Insomnia

I can say it all I want
All the sleepless nights
Watching the world turn as I speak softly
"You aren't real
You aren't real
I am enlightened
You aren't real"


What makes you so great?
Words that spew out as fast as your breath
Your newly styled primped haircut
Ego translates to "I" in Latin
And you couldn't fill that spot more perfectly
You are the ego
When in reality, you are the same decaying matter as the rest of us


There is nothing more I want than for you to hit me
Really
Nothing more
I would give my wallet to some jerk on the street
Call 911 just to tell them the emergency is is shoved up their asses
Just to get you to hit me


Deliver me, oh egotistical Ralph Lauren bottom feeder
Let's watch those pretty boy teeth get knocked in
I want to see you drop this act you call the truth and duke it out
Show me what you are actually like
Not this directed bullshit you read in your script of a head


We all know you
Come clean
Get soap

Complete

Design the world, young man
As it is your home
Molecular architecture at it's finest
Make the world something to be proud of
Don't let the hate drown you in your dreams
It is only as bad as you make it seem

Set forth, young man
Journey forward
March into April with glory
Let no showers rain on your parade
And spring forward, allow no attack
For only you can hold Fall back

Step out of the door
You're no longer the boy playing on the floor
But a man who will do great things, I'm sure
Make the world your home and not your war
As this day I have been waiting for
Though I am old, tired, and sore

I love you, young man
You, and nothing more

Rapture

I speak the sultry sound of voice
When not given an option,
A chance or choice
I move in motion, malignant to all
Struggle to stammer
Flail and crawl
I speak the solemn language of sin
Because with perpetual life
Humanity doesn't win
I drink the droplets of desire and hate
To further pursue
Inevitable fate
I drown in judgment, all allure
Feelings that fuel my
Wanting for more
I fall in luster and illuminate the sea
My greatest triumph is
The end of me

Hit Me

God, I want you to hit me
Put everything behind a punch and throw
Tyler, just say it
It isn't that I need to restart
It isn't that I am not masculine enough for today's society
It isn't that I need to just let raw power destroy the emotions
Just hit me
Screw the explanations and the planning
Fuck the upper floor and the modern world
Hit me, god damnit
It is just me and four walls
Pile and tile blood stains if you want
Let the linoleum soak up the aftermath
Just do it
Say it
Throw it
Fuck it
Hit me already
When I am standing in front of you
Heart pounding with anticipation
But then the scene ends
Hit me
Don't do it for the camera
Do it because you need to
"It's in the script"
Fuck the script
Hit me

Eastbound

seven thirty one (ex. 2)

"Hit the trenches!" were the screams that were emitted from the officer
As the young grays took the field
Pale
Scared
Fear flooding their eyes as the surviving grays hopped out and boarded the return train
The gray of their uniform barely showing
More mud and blood on them than clothing

The whistle blew, and the train left
We were left in the middle of the soggy terrain
The black coated officer jumped down and erected a turret station on a protruding rock
The craters from bombs and shells of vehicles of destruction littered the Bellevue battleground

We stood
Rifles and pistols ready
Our knifes in our coat jackets aching to be unsheathed
The ragged bunch from Titusville wouldn't last this fight
Not without their treaty with Harrisburg and Allentown

I looked across the fog to see the crumpled remains of the first squadron from the enemy
The dismembered and crippled bodies of the Titusville soldiers laid in a peaceful oblivion
Unaware of what has become of world

An eruption of engines broke from the Tight Line
"Drakes!" were the shouts of the grays
The drakes were Titusville's only real weapon against our Steel City
Tanks that were built from whatever cars they could find
Scrap metal and junkyard arsenal
Each drake having a different purpose

The officer grabbed the mount and waited
Grays stood
Anxious
Afraid

The first drake flew from the Tight Line
"Grays! Shoot the tires! We want to show the drakes what will happen if they attempt to burn our City of Steel!"
The officer had something in mind

One by one, the young trainees fired
Each bullet hitting the scrap tank
Each one getting closer to the rubber
Each getting closer to them witnessing cruel acts beyond thought

It worked

The front left tire spun off as the junk truck collapsed into the mud
"After 'im ya grays! Yinz gotta get 'im!" yelled one of the senior ranks
A small group of grays jumped out and pulled the drey from the flaming car
Four took him to the Steel Line as the fifth sent a bullet into the gas tank
Ultimately saying to the Tight Line to not push

The four boys threw him down
Then took the steel wire we all carry and tied him down
The overcast began to spew rain at this point
Our trench slowly pooling

Our flag flew heavy behind us
Supported by a concrete block
The large metal pole was what the officer had in mind

The officer in black called all of us in line to face the prisoner
He was a young kid
Pale
Dark haired
Bright lips
His brown uniform tearing in multiple places

He was about the same age as me
Would have been a gray, but the dreys don't have sectioned troupes by age

"Attention all grays. This is our example to the Tight Line. We must show them why the City of Steel is not one to challenge!"
At this moment, he took the steel wire he had in his pocket, then began to sew it in and out of the boys lips
Sewing his mouth shut with our product
"You speak against our steel, our steel silences you"
The drones repeated the phrase
The young boy whimpered and tried to scream
But only increased his pain
The officer began to sew his eyes
Gently pulling the eyelids up and thrusting the point through
Tears rolling down in a bloody mess
"You see a problem in our city, we correct your vision. There are no problems"
Repeat

The boy had fallen into the mud
Blood and tears streaming down his face
Many grays turning to vomit from being forced to watch

The officer wound a fair amount of wire around his neck
Then secured it to the rope of the flagpole

"Lieutenant, please raise the flag."
The officer spoke coldly to a shaking and queasy gray
The gray was about to speak when the officer turned and flashed a steel frown at him
His trembling lips stopped as he proceeded to the flag

We watched as the strong, yet shaking hands of the gray pulled the rope
Each tug lifting the boy up
His legs kicking in the air and muffled screams drifted into the night

Once he was at the top, there was no more kicking
No more screaming

The engines stopped
The Tight Line disappeared

seven thirty one

The heel of the boot stood and struck me prominently in the jaw
Pulps of red began to emerge from my lips
My hand raised to my mouth to examine the damage
Laughter of the young recruits filled the air
The bloody pulp that had emerged from my mouth was most of my bottom lip
As crimson poured from the gaping hole that was now my mouth
Mixed in with the wet soot and soil in the rain

I looked up to see the booted man
The young gray sentinels stood like steel pillars against the overcast
The burned remains of homes and holding cells littered the world

The booted man extracted a kerchief from his pocket and neatly wiped away the vile on his polished shoe
He called over a cadet who handed him a pair of pliers
My tooth is the price for not biting the bullet
"Forgive me, comrade. This is now mine"

The boot erupted on the side of my ribcage
Shattering my breathing
The snap of his leather fingers signaled for the towers of youth to evacuate

I picked up the mess that was my lip
Looked down at the mess that was my uniform
Looked up at the mess of world

Famous Last Words

To all of those who have given their concern of what happened to us.
To all of those who wanted to escalate a situation that did not concern them.
To all of those who left after I took the road less traveled by.
To all of those who pointed out the fact that a mistake was made.
To all of those who tried to take advantage of the vulnerabilities of the situation.
To all of those who constantly reminded us of what happened when we were at peace.

And most importantly:
To all of those who felt the need to insist that I was making a bad situation worse by continuing.


"I am not what I ought to be,
Not what I want to be,
Not what I am going to be,
But I am thankful that
I am better than I used to be."

Thank you.

Google Autocomplete

Google now has the option that will generate a drop down list of the most common searches based on what you have typed into the search box.

So, I was pressing keys and reading it.
I typed "N", and I saw that "nipples" was one of the top searches.
Type in "P", and "poop" is one.
"S", you get "sexual intercourse", followed by "Susan Boyle".
"T" gives you "thong".
"U" gives you "ugly people" as one.
"I" gives you "images".


Really?
I know that there are more search options compared to those, but those are on the top?
I mean...who is sitting at home with the brilliant idea to try to search Google Images for images? Or the others...why are you looking that up? For what reason would you need an image of poop?


That function should be disabled...

I make mistakes

I make a lot of mistakes

I'm very aware

Every time you chime in with whatever bullshit you want to add
You just remind me that you were one of those mistakes


These are all mistakes
I don't care what you say
I am a good person
Everyone is
It is when you start to do things on purpose for personal gain that you develop into something bad

If I were honestly a bad person
It wouldn't mean shit to me
I wouldn't be at the point I am now

If I really were a bad person
I wouldn't stand up for people when they are spoken or acted against
I wouldn't try to right the wrongs I make
I wouldn't give a fuck about what I do to myself

Honestly
How can someone say, "You deserve to die" in regards to something like this?

Really
When you are interested in someone, things are put past you
So if she likes me, maybe that is being put past her
You are doing it just the same
It isn't like someone you find to be of interest hasn't made mistakes
It isn't like I saw that a mistake he made was getting on the ALEX high as a kite and smelled like he bathed in bong water

It was a mistake
I have realized that
Just like all people do
We can't all be perfect like you in your family
There is an obvious right and wrong
Of course


Picking the wrong is what is known as a mistake
Not a permanent reminder of your fuck up
It happens for a reason

Just like how we eventually came to peace with our mistake


Seriously
We don't like each other
Fine
Let's stop trying to show her who is better suited to her life and leave it between us

"Must be your skin

that I'm sinking in"


I think it is settled for a while. This plan is going to work. It has the elements of slowly allowing more trust to settle in, along with more communicating about actual problems when a fight comes up. I think what I am going to do is make a list of the things needed to be achieved in this relationship to make sure that we aren't being hurt. Each goal can be worked on little by little and one at a time. Eventually it will work out. I'm confident in it. Just have to have faith.

I've been in a huge 90's phase recently. Probably due to the station I always listen to while I drive. It's all stuff that I remember when I was younger. Like, I always had the memory of being afraid of the video for Sex and Candy by Marcy Playground because the guy was in a hole and a spider was crawling next to him. Grunge is really making its way back into my iPod.

Probably going to get my license on Friday. I really hope so.

My uncle is coming out to Phoenix this weekend. I haven't seen him in...let's see...nine years. I came out here in 2000, and been here since, so yes. It will be interesting.

I've pushed reflect away for a while due to a certain argument with my mother, but I think I'm ready to pick it up again.

Disney is fast approaching. With all of these problems arising, it worries me, but I feel that the plan will work.



The sun came up. It has before and there is nothing stopping it from rising tomorrow. I can only expect it and make the best of each day. Stop wallowing and fight. It is the only way I won't drown in this sea of confusion. And as long as the sun brings you to me, I'll keep kicking. It's time to breathe.

Flight

Had to do this paper for English.



C H A P T E R T W E L V E
A S T A N D I N G O V A T I O N

I finished filing the reports that Mr. Bloomingdale heedlessly bestowed upon me on my way out the door and rushed to the car.
Damn him…always having me stay as he takes every new receptionist out for dinner.
The key almost snapped off in the lock as I twisted it, imagining the stock of it was the only part of Mr. Bloomingdale he thinks with. My eyes drifted to his parking spot while I buckled my seat belt. I still don’t understand the point of an executive parking space. They already get a higher income, an office with a view (as opposed to my empty 3x4 of particle board they call a cubicle), and the managerial privilege of leasing a new car with the company every four years for the employee price. If someone in a lower position gets to work before someone like Mr. Bloomingdale, they should have the right to take that damned space.
It would be like going into the Drive-Thru at McDonald’s, and them allowing you to cut ahead of all the other customers because you agreed to “Super Size” your meal.

The drive home was nothing short of a sad song. I remember driving past a group of young kids playing in the overcast. Like the postal service I guess; persistent enough to deal with whatever is given to them.
The only difference is the kids are probably more dependable than the mail-men.
Parking in the driveway just reminded me of how alone I was. I got out of the car and took a good look around me to find nothing but trees. Stepping into the kitchen through the long hallway, I sat down my briefcase. I called out only to hear an echo of my own voice.
Alone.
Again.
I walked into the dusky parlor, on the verge of tears. The wood paneling on the floor creaked as my heels clicked on them. All around me there were pictures of a family, all in classic black and white.
All happy.
What do I have?
The burning and suffocating feeling came when my tears started. I tossed myself onto the blue velvet fainting couch and sobbed.
There are bookshelves full of photos and diaries and memories right there. Bookshelves full of the feelings and memories they loved.
Where are my memories?
I was overcome by the weight of my eye lids closing the dam that were my flooding eyes. They gently folded as I drifted off to sleep.

Suddenly, the room collapsed in a burst of light. I felt myself rise to find the floorboards warped into a rounded edge, making a stage. The ground was covered in a small layer of snow, and large, towering icebergs littered the stage. A backdrop of coarse deep blue velvet hung heavy; as beautifully painted lanterns were let down to give the indication of stars. I looked out to see what was there, but I saw nothing but a wall of the same material the backdrop consisted of. About to leave, I started to make my way to the wings when a grand noise erupted from the outside of the wall. I attempted to walk towards the noise when the wall split apart, a burning light blinded me. A wave of violins gave their beginning thrust of music as applause erupted from the light. I covered my eyes to see, but the light persisted with its siege. Finally the light dimmed, and I caught a glimpse of my audience. Every person who had their picture in the parlor was attending tonight’s performance. Still in black and white. I saw what appeared to be a young girl sitting in the very front row, clutching an antique porcelain doll, staring in awe at the set. A thrust of stringed instruments broke me from my stare.
They are expecting a performance.
I glanced down at my body to discover it decorated in a ballerina costume, along with an elegant headdress. The music began to play, and I involuntarily began to dance. My body spun and twirled and leaped all over the stage, my muscles not doing a thing. As if I were the doll for an invisible girl, I pranced and plied over the icebergs and left tiny footprints in the snow. The music was soothing and calm, an orchestral accompaniment to my show.
I felt needed.
Like someone actually cared. My heart seemed to swell at the thought of my audience enjoying watching me.
At that moment, the music stopped. My body froze mid leap over the tallest iceberg. There was a large pause, before all the grey figures arose in cheer and clapped and applauded me. Grey roses were thrown onto the stage. Top hats were rocketed into the air in celebration.
Thank you.

"Nothing feels like home

You're a thousand miles away"




I can't maintain anything. Even if I fix it, I screw it up somehow.

Always unintentional.


Just call me Leonard.

"Nothing left

but a memory"



I hope this is the right decision...

"There's so much to dream about,

there must be more to my life"



Great song. Great metaphor. In case you don't get it (which I wouldn't be surprised: it took me a few glances to get it), Boiled Frogs is a play on humanity. You wanna boil a frog, then you do it gradually and slowly let it die, and only if you put them in water that is already boiling hot will they try to escape. Sorta like...instead of burying yourself slowly, make an effort to get out of the situation before it becomes a necessity.

I've got a new song in the works, and I am really excited about it. I might post it. Not sure. It's called Capone Doesn't Have Anything On Me, and it's pretty cool. Mob references. They work very well in the situation.



This is actually going to be a short post. I am watching a movie of a book I'm reading called The Boy In Striped Pajamas. I'll do a review of it tomorrow.

"I hope you had the time

of your life"

I'm not putting the song up here. You know it. I know it. Only more sad smiles of acceptance will come of it.

I was driving back home from Jamba Juice when it happened. We have satellite radio in the car, so there are hundreds of channels of specific genres of music. The station I always listen to is grunge and 90's rock. I was just a street or so away from home when Good Riddance came on, and I felt like dropping my mom and sister off and going to an empty space to just cry. I haven't listened to that song all the way through since I sang it at our 8th grade promotion ceremony. That moment suddenly was all that my mind was focused on.

It really got me thinking. Where would I be without what I learned in 8th grade? I looked down at my seat and said in my head, "You could very well not be where you are at this second without it". It was huge. All of my Mr. Reed moments came to mind and the moments when my squad finally had realized we aren't all that different. It was literally overwhelming. I realized that I have impacted so many peoples lives. There are of course my peers who have never let me forget how I affected them, but then I remembered I was a counselor. All the kids in my squads really wanted to learn from me. They all wanted to hear what I had to say and how I wasn't much different from them. Although only one of the two squads I watched over really got the lesson, both really grew. The first time I went up (the weekend of my birthday), we had done the diversity walk, where everyone stands in a large circle and someone reads off a list, and if you identify with what the speaker said, you walk to the middle of the circle, face the people beside you, then face the outside, then walk back. I remember at the beginning when all of the kids were laughing and kidding around and doing what they normally would...but by the end of it...there wasn't any of that. I remember one of the kids in my squad specifically. He seemed like the kids that was in school to make the others smile, as if he never had a wrong to frown about. He was extremely short and an overall good kid. When his squad mates saw him crying, they knew that there was something more serious to worry about. All of those kids looked up to me to show them that lesson-the brutally honest lesson that we are not to be segregated and put down. All of the kids seemed to look up to me. They felt so comfortable with me that when they found out it was my birthday, all of them started to crowd around me in the dining hall singing happy birthday, then all tackled me. I mean everyone. Kids I didn't get the chance to talk to were taking their time to show me that they cared.

The second time I went, the squad got it. I know they did. Our first discussion was so intricate that we were late to dinner because of our sharing. Those kids were great. They were all so eager to hear my stories and for me to listen to theirs and know that I was listening seemed like a god send for them. They all welcomed me and the other counselor like a part of their squad. We even had two teachers come by to our discussions because they heard that ours got so deep and intimate that they wanted to see and share with us. That is how well we led our discussions: teachers and adults wanted to see how we handled it and how we connected with the kids. Wait...we had a total of three adults I think. The new L.A. teacher, the T.A., and the new science teacher.

To be completely honest, this is it for my blogging tonight. Too much to comprehend for one night.

"You've got the right of way!"

I got a huge chuckle out of this. Same guy from the Lube video. Another something I can relate to. Camden is hell getting around in for this exact reason. He's absolutely right though. We go down to Darimascotta, and its true.

Fun Fact:
Darimascotta is obviously not in the dictionary. I know that I spelled it wrong, but I clicked for suggestions on spelling, and Scottsdale came up. Not even close...there aren't any losers with frosted tips and Sugar Ray haircuts in Maine...

"I'll never let them hurt you

I promise"



I didn't finish the first half of reflect. I said I was going to push to, but to be honest, I didn't let myself. I actually got positively distracted. I did a bit of art and collected ideas for the book. Honestly, all the brainstorming I did satisfies me. I've pretty much got the entire first half of the book planned out, along the majority of planning done for the second half. I've also written a couple of pages from it, but not in the order I need. From what I have done though, I'm confident in the rest of it.

Updating is going to be much slower now that 1.) I am back in school, and 2.) I broke my laptop. Yes, I finally pushed it too far. I knew there was something wrong with it, and decided that I know how to fix computers and took it apart, only to find out later that a part of the laptop that wont come off when disassembled is the monitor cord, which I somehow damaged. The actual laptop isn't broken, but the screen has 2/3s of it in blank white, and the small portion at the top is still visible. I am now connecting my laptop to an external monitor and lucky for me, I'm missing the AC cable. So I borrowed my sister's cable from her computer for the night.

Break is now over, and it is the final quarter of this year. I always used to look at it as a football game in elementary school. I guess it isn't as easy as that anymore. With the next few AIMS sessions, cramming for finals, and every damned reading quiz in between, the last thing I need is to leave for a week and a half right before finals. I know that Disneyworld and the cruise and all of that will be great and fun and every other adjective describing joyous. But in reality, that week is just another week that I'll be missing essential crap in school. And the time couldn't be worse. End of April to beginning of May. Right when most of my classes will begin a year's review. I'm going to get all the work early and do it before I leave, but at the same time, as I am running around the deck of the ship with whatever other teens happen to be there, school is going to be haunting my mind.

This past week has been great, though. A lot has been realized and said in the current situation, and I'm pretty sure that this time the decision was made honestly. We both came to realize that what happened ultimately happened, but in the midst of it brought us back together. With it happening, it gave me the gall and the commitment to find the problem, make a plan to solve it, and go through with it. I've done all of that. On the emotional side of it, it has shown us the opposite side of the spectrum, and we don't like it. It showed us how much both of us actually care about each other and how we wouldn't feel this way if it wasn't something important. This all sounds like complete bullshit to the bottomfeeders who might still (but really shouldn't if they do) care. Oh well. They don't know. Bottom line is right there before their eyes.

I got a present from my dad for Valentine's Day (family thing. I tend to get little bitsy gifts for the bitsy holidays i.e.Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, Thanksgiving, Halloween, and Easter)

Side Note:
I find it kinda funny how I actually get legitimate gifts for Easter. A few years back, I got a digital camera on a holiday that I couldn't care less about/beleive in. With Christmas, fine. I see it as much more of a family up-bringing than Easter. But damn! Really? Also, money too. If I recall, fifty to a hundred dollars for Jesus Zombie Day. But then again, the suppliers of the gifts are Catholic, so that day just means a lot to them. Not enough for me to go to church, that is for cereal.

Anyway, the book is called "Wooden" and to my dismay have not started reading it yet, All the time in the world and reading really didn't captivate me. But the book is coming with me to school now until I finish it. I often have little periods of time in a few classes that I find myself daydreaming in, so I can actually have something to do. That is what I did with "Fight Club" for a while.

I've watched That 70's Show for quite a while now (asking backup from my dad: How many times would you either come home to me watching it or me attempting to kick the boys from Cyberchase to watch it?) and have noticed something very important. TV is really not a way to model a situation. For people who state that they are becoming Ross and Rachael or an Eliot and J.D. (God, I hate Scrubs. Shoot me now, I know. I am basically the only person who doesn't find it funny, but I don't) is not healthy. I really hope that people don't do it, but I know that there are people who do. Really...people who go through the things that they do in That 70's Show don't continue to meet in the same basement everyday.

I've gotten a good amount of crap out for a solid post. I've decided that by the end of the school year, reflect will be finished, I'm going to have more art, and actually record. That last one is a biggie. I've been saying that for almost a year now, and I really need to. Oh well. It'll happen. At least one song.

OHMAN!
Forget about finishing there!

WHABAM!
Some guy who could afford a video camera in the speck of PA that I call my hometown decided to videotape random crap around the Sharon area.
Stop the video at 0:08.
There are two place mats. The one at the top of the screen is my official spot. Mine. Reserved. That place is my seat. Ask my father, my grandfather, anyone else in my family, and hell, even the bartender Lou (shes great).
The place is called the Quaker Steak and Lube as a parody of an auto shop, and has been a part of my life since I was a mere child.
That place has so many of my most heartfelt memories, and I am going to type as many as I can remember now.

My spot came to be when I attended a Bike Nite at the establishment. The whole place would sponsor a night where all the local bikers (As in motorcycle) would gather and park and have an overall good time. It was customary, however, to look the part. So many many people wearing their leather vests and gloves and bandannas. My grandfather happened to had recently purchased a Harley and wanted to attend (not our first time, but first Bike Nite). I was wearing a bandanna that my grandfather had bought me, and when it came time to eat we headed to the bar. Pennsylvania law states that kids can sit at the bar accompanied by an adult, so I was allowed to sit with them. That was when I met Lou. She became my friend after a devastating mistake on my behalf.

The Lube (as I call it) is famous and most widely known for their wings. If I can remember, something along the lines of 22 or something close to 30 types of sauce and all were aligned on a hotness scale. I usually ordered Arizona Ranch, which became a bit of irony for me. At the top of the scale was the Atomic sauce, which isn't even a sauce. To make it, the people in the kitchen have to leave and there is this huge process into making this damned sauce to go on a few lousy wings. The sauce is so hot that above the entrance to the bar, there are packets of paper that are labeled Atomic Survivors, meaning they ate the wing. Back to Lou.

My grandfather decided it would be funny to order an Atomic wing. A few if I recall. I was enjoying my wings and reached in for another. I took a bite, and I suddenly felt as if I poured some combination of battery acid and lighter fluid on my tongue. So my grandfather starts laughing and I am on the verge of tears when Lou gives me a shot glass of chocolate sauce. After about three more, the hurt went away.

The next time we came, I sat in my spot again, and she looked at me in this odd way. She recognized me, but wanted to poke fun at it, asking, "Where the hell is your bandanna?" Ever since then, that has been my spot.

School tomorrow. I want to share more, but I know that Calo's quiz is going to bite me in the ass if I don't get any sleep. Sometime this week I'll get around to it.

"And I get a little shaken

because I live my life like this"



FACT:
This song was off of MCR's first album I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love, but the video was made during their Three Cheers era. It was right before the original drummer and founding member Matt Pellisier left the band. He is in the video as he recorded with them for the first two records. It might explain the sudden dramatic change in edgeyness from the first two into Black Parade (Which was amazing, but each record has it's own strong and weak points). The video is also a tribute in a way to a Japanese horror film called The Audition. It is about a guy who holds auditions to meet potential girlfriends. All are either too peppy or too upfront or flat or something like that, but this one girl (who looks like every evil thing in a Jap Horror film i.e.black hair, almost white skin, long hair, has the sense she might end up doing unnecessary murderous acupuncture to you...etc)captures his interest and he wants more. The movie is actually quite boring, excluding a few splices you see of a bag moving around in the girls apartment. I won't spoil it. The ending is ridiculously amazing though. A...what? Hour and a half build up to reveal the final 45 minutes that leave you speechless.


The first two albums have been a great influence on the writing process. Last night I couldn't go to sleep because of it. I had all of these great ideas come to mind that I had to write down, and I think I've got it all planned out. I just need to write it out and organize it. I wrote some pages last night. They're pretty good. I also couldn't sleep out of fear of the rabbit. It is still unnamed, and am almost considering calling it the rabbit in the book. But the way I made it, it is creepy. It even scares me to think about. Imagine seeing this face in the corners of your room while you are trying to sleep:



It took a lot for me to go with the rabbit. It has been used before indefinitely. Donnie Darko has Frank, the menacing rabid rabbit mascot that haunts Donnie. Alice has the White Rabbit. The idea sparked from LeATHERMOUTH, which is Frank Iero's (MCR's Rhythm Guitarist) side project, in which all the members except Frank wear rabbit masks. Oh well. It all works too well. Heroin was first tested on rabbits to market as aspirin. It all makes much more sense in my head. I could say it all, but that would ruin the whole point of the book, so I won't. Just trust me, it makes sense.

The original idea of the story has definitely evolved, going from a mirror pointing out the wrongs in the character's life and how they need to take responsibility for it has slowly morphed into a heroin (back to this later) addict that has the constant images of a rabbit haunting him to continue using, while every time he looks in the mirror, the mirror tries to show him what is becoming of him by distorting his face and pushing him into taking action. I am very excited to put all of this into action, especially with the terminology I created for the book.

Now, heroin. The symptoms the character shows suggest that he is on heroin, PCP, and LSD. I have to figure out a way to do this. I was thinking of somehow lacing the heroin, but I doubt that is possible. I'll think of something eventually.

I've split the book into two parts. First is his encounter and steady decline due to use, then part two is the long term effects and his choice as to what to do. I'm not going to say the ending. I'm too excited for it. It is just...oh man. I don't want to sound like a jerk, but it really is just amazing.


Tomorrow I am going over to Ashley's to watch Donnie Darko and have her read the little tidbits I have of the story. I am very confidant that this could maybe actually go somewhere. It would be great to see that rabbit staring down teens from the bookshelves as they reach for a copy of Twilight or something like that. The only problem is publishing requirements. A lot of publishers only take certain types of books, and I can't label it. It is not in a format that I can just say YA or something like that. Although I would hope teens would read it, nothing in the book has to do with a teen problem or teens at all. It sure as hell isn't fantasy or anything. I think that there should be a genre called "Brutally Honest with an Artistic and Psychological Twist".



I need my inhaler from laughing too much

"Who are you to

wave your finger?"



Something that really pisses me off is when people talk when it isn't their place
I can understand when they make a mistake of talking about someone
It has been a mistake of mine and others mistake it being about them
That's fine

But when you bring up a topic that I know I have more experience or knowledge in
That pisses me off

Talking about a band I have listened to longer than you and had been particularly influenced by as if I have no clue what they are talking about is just stupid

As much as I will say it
It will go ignored
Words can be written however you intend them to be
But not always will they be understood that way

Key example
Our honors english curriculum
What do you think the author meant when they named the character Monday?
(Answer is he sucks)
People always find it helpful to adapt something to their situation
Even if totally not related

Why do girls love the song "Lips of an Angel" by Hinder?
It is about a guy not being honest about his feelings
But women seem to love that song
(My father will back me up on this)

So, when the song says "Who are you to wave your finger?"
It is clearly talking about the government's death-grip on showing the negative effects of pot
But who is to say that it can't adapt?
Like someone who obviously is trying to play it off as if they aren't involved

Just a bit of thought
For the one challenging me in a battle of art
Back off
Because this is something that I do have a common knowledge of
Even if I don't take part in the activities many bands endorse


Oh
Okay
Speaking of that
I am also fed up with this "I love the Beatles" bullshit
Isn't it a little convenient that this all happened directly after the release of Across the Universe?

I'm not crazy about the Beatles
I love them to death for bringing the outrage they felt about certain customs and the experiences they dealt with and bring them into lyrics
But all the people who are suddenly Beatles fans really piss me off
And not the ones who were aware that the Beatles made a huge impact on the music community with their coming to America to play on the Ed Sullivan Show in '64
The ones who can sing the words to Strawberry Fields Forever and not Give Peace A Chance


Recently I have adapted this radical state of mind
No more allowing people to get away with shit
It is not going to be that way anymore

I'm hoping I get get my hands on some random pieces that I can use all of this for in an art project or something
I have quite a few ideas actually
And I need to put them into action soon



I'm going to be doing a blog about evolution, war, and all the things I beleive in that won't change tomorrow
So
Religion
Social Behavior
Those are the main two

"Please don't go now

Please don't fade away"


Except for the beginning made by the poster
This is amazing

And lately this song is becoming more and more relevant each day
And this live version is just beautiful



I did a painting with my old enamel paints from my figurine days
It is alright
Very simple though

I am looking too forward to spring break
I am not liking school right now
I'm going to be pushing myself to finish part one of reflect and design a cover
Everytime I think of the story
I see it as a movie
And it makes me very excited



Shower and School
I'll probably do a real blog tonight

Waiting

is excruciating


"The ocean prays for his demise
But I swear to you
I watched his heart pump blood into those veins
Throwing punches
At ocean waves"


That's all I have to do
Keep throwing punches

Hand That Needs (12/9/08)

You tear down what God has created for you
Only to shed it on the unaware or uninterested
You donate paper of no value to the poor
Stating he all you need to be happy
But if one does not grasp what you preach
Do you still offer a hand that does not belong to God?
A hand willing to put aside the inevitable death
And what idea of where you go after the sand has fallen
But rather a hand that is all powerful, omnipotent in all
Understanding of the unimportant overlord who demands praise
A hand that will help willingly and gladly without prediction
That will feel free to give help without expectation or desire
To do well except for the satisfaction of living well

If heaven and God will not accept one who does well
If I were to ascend, I would call it my Hell

"If you want to play poor me

Prepare to die at open sea"

Just a little tidbit from my latest piece
I'm not sure if it is a poem or song yet
I guess you'll see, seeing as how I won't be posting songs

Yeah, I don't really like that

Went to sleep at 1 this morning
It seems the more I tell myself to sleep, the more I find a way to stay awake

Interesting Fact:
My meds are known as neurostimulants, and an interesting fact about me taking them is that caffeine doesn't have a stimulant effect on me anymore. Because of the constant stimulation my brain is receiving through the meds, things like my favorite drink in the entire world (Coca-Cola...I know. It's bad. It eats away at your body and soul and can deteriorate solid concrete...) at 11 at night and still have the capability to sleep normally.

Woke up and went to school
And here is where I began to lose interest in writing these so long ago
I was so tired of reading and writing, "I woke up...blah blah...went to school"
So in order to maintain my focus of doing this
I am going to point out at least one interesting thing about my day

Although not necessarily interesting, it dawned upon me that some people just can't accept something that doesn't go their way
And it seems of utmost stupidity that someone could say that it isn't their place to talk, but do the following:
Complain like hell
Escalate to a physical manner
Shouting biased and opinionated curses
Showing non verbal hate
Spreading the story that isn't theirs
or
Spreading the story that has been revised to meet bottom feeder standards so gossip will favor in their name

Doesn't make sense
I don't walk into your house and take away your bible because I don't think what you should do about your life will be answered through it
Don't walk into my life just because you know the person involved

Main Idea:
Just because you know the person involved doesn't mean you are involved


Sudden realization of the effects of procrastination
I'll post later tonight with another random one

Non Poterat Dicere (2/16/09)

You speak
As if you know first hand
As if you were the contender

You speak
As if someone believes you experienced it
As if your pain is accountable for this

You speak
As if I were playing a game with it
As if I move my pawns against the rooks for sport

You speak
As if you are wisest among wise
As if you your run in was a prediction of this

You speak
As if someone is listening to your complaints
As if someone were to think that you are the inflicted

You speak
As if someone cares to hear your story in shallow water
As if your words will convert these loving sentinels from stone

You speak
As if the words that run out of your mouth are making a fucking difference
As if the breath you waste with your bitching will draw away from those I take

You speak
As if time has stopped for you to make a stand against something that isn’t yours
As if God has bent the rules of forgiveness in your honor to smite me

You speak
As if time and realization is not something that phases me
As if I am as hollow as the words you speak out against me with

Well
Find a way back to your home
Go running back or be pushed by all
But this isn’t your home to speak in

Kindergarten

1,2,3 All Eyes On Me
That rule really doesn't apply anywhere else, does it?
It isn't as if you are in a conversation with someone who tends to talk over you or interrupt you mid sentence, then suddenly say," 1,2,3 All eyes on me!"
And they shut up
Or if you are trying to get someone's attention, but they are distracted...
Doesn't seem to work

Clean Up Your Own Mess
Even in a situational mess, it seems like the more you dwell in it, the more people you get shouting or pissed off at you
If you are expected to clean up what you spilled or broke, why do people get so infuriated when you try to clean up a mistake that you made to resolve it and take responsibility for it

Raise Your Hand
Oh my damn would this be great
Can you imagine the amount of frustration that outspoken or rude people would feel if this were to be put into effect in a social manner?
Obviously, we still do this in class
But outside of it is where it would become chaos
Going back to both the mess and the eyes on me thing, this would further prevent people barging into others business with great force
So instead of being able to just interrupt a meaningful conversation being held that can further resolve a conflict
They must sit and wait for one of the two to call on them before they can destroy that potential conversation

Dying Was A Breeze (6/26/07)

I hardly felt anything when I died. When the word "death" comes to mind, all ways of it seem very painful…but not for me…I didn't feel a thing. I felt pain up until my death…but dying was a breeze.

It was this girl…she killed me. Brutally murdered me. But I didn't feel anything…I don't really know why, though.

Her name was Belle…she had short, yet smooth black hair…eyes so hazel you could swear Autumn itself made them…perfect stature…no one would perceive her as a killer…

Her last words drowned my head in thoughts. It wasn't a simple goodbye, but a long, painful goodbye. I guess you could say she drowned me…

I remember our good times. The times when we could simply lie out in the grass under a blanket of darkness and stars…and nothing could separate us

Nothing did separate us

I brought her down with me

We're still together, in a sense…

The only problem is that she doesn't know that I'm dead…and I didn't know she was…

She thought that I wasn't able to see, so she took advantage of it

She spread the word of my death secretly, so she could better herself

When at the same time, I was killing her

Stabbing that bitch right in the back

Just as she did to me

Killing me

Well, I wasn't blind…and she should have known that

So…I killed her

Plain and simple

I took my daggers; poison tipped, freshly sharpened daggers, and stabbed her

Right up front

And she took it well

Easing her own pain by killing me off

Taking one of hers and stabbing me up front too

Who would have known that we killed each other?

We seemed to okay…seemed fine

But she stabbed my back

She lied

She framed me

She had it coming….

Words Beyond Words (2/22/08)

The words she heard stuck

"Loser"

"Flat"

"Nerd"

The words were sharpened to the core

They pierced her right to where it hurt

They went right through her heart

Right through her head

No

They hit her right in the ego

Right where everyone could see her scars

They took the words of every ditz

Of every Barbie

Of every plastic bitch

And shoved them into her face

But what do they expect from her?

That night

The razor meets the skin

She carves "Fuck Up" in every inch she can fit

She takes the straightening iron

The beauty's weapon of choice in the ongoing war of apparel

And clamps it around her wrist

Encasing herself in a burning sensation

Wanting to know what it's like to be "hot"

She takes the lipstick

The bullet in a bible of all the pretties

And smears it across her face

Wishing that the cosmetics would suddenly take action

And transform her into the midnight beauty

And she sits on her roof

Waiting for her prince

The same boy who takes the words of the savages

To come riding on his stallion

Waiting for a busted Mustang to pull up and take her away

Away to a desolate nightmare

A nightmare full of cheap pumps, sweat, and fake leather

A nightmare that the beauties get to live on any night of their choice

But the nightmare is nothing more than a dream to her

The next day

The words stick

"Slut"

"Whore"

"Fake"

The words struck her right where it hurt

She finally got what she wanted

But only form the scraps that the beasts gave her

Only allowing her to climb the ranks to kick her down again

Allowing her to climb the social ladder

Only to knock it out from beneath her

And her dream

Of a brilliant knight and his stallion

Came to her once upon a midnight

But only after the knight had drank his fill

And her dream soon turned to nightmare

As the knight took the wench in his grip

Breaking the already bruised and scarred wrists

And he unsheathed his sword

And broke down the doors to her castle

Throwing away all dignity of hers

That night

The lead met the skin

Her smile of grim dignity was the last image he would see

As she left his bare, used body in the cheap bathtub of the motel

The white linoleum stained crimson at the sound

And she carved "Fucker" into his palm

So when he exchanged a handshake with God

He would know exactly where he belongs

The next day

The words stuck

"Heartless"

"Ruthless"

"Insane"

They struck her

But no longer did the words hurt her

She had been bruised to the core

Numbed to the pain of an outer source

She was the only cause of her unhappiness now

And as the gate closed behind the young princess

The wenches said their goodbyes

Filled with "Fuck You" 's and "Stupid Bitch" 's

And as the princess took her seat in her throne

She said her final words to her humble servants

"Thanks"

Then midnight's lightning took her by storm

Burning her already scarred and burned wrists

Searing through the pain

As her body was purged from sin

With the ripping pain

A pain known as truth

Focus (1/20/09)

I wish I was normal

I wish I wouldn’t have to take pills to regulate a regular life

To be able to concentrate at all times, and not when my medicine begins to take effect

To be able to always have the best intentions for others,not when the pills are in use

To be able to focus towards the goal I am searching for inlife without needing to strain myself to pretend to be okay

That is all the pills do

They make me look okay

They alter my mind and my actions into what all of you are

They turn me into a person of capability

And without them

It all crashes

I wish I didn’t have to have this learning curse on me

So that people only believe that I listen to myself, not them

I wish I could focus on a simple fucking word every once and a while without being chemically dependent on it

I wish I could function normally instead of being this masked conformist who sits with the rest of you

I wish that things just came naturally to me like they do for you

How great it would be to sit there and not avert my eyes because of the pattern of the plastic imitation of wood on the desk

How great would it be to not have to cry out tears of frustration over something that everyone else understands

I would love nothing more than to wake up and just be able to walk out the door

Not have to give myself a stomach ache over the six miracle capsules I swallow every morning

I wish I didn’t have to hear, “Did you take your meds?”every time I do something wrong

I wish that this wasn’t as big of a problem as it is

I wish I was normal

Grey (6/18/07)

In a world of black and white

The girl is hard to see

Looking for Mr. Right

He is thought never to be

The first time he ever saw her

A simple glimpse he gave

His vision was but a blur

Shadowed by her wave

The two caught eyes with another

For only once to see

Color for one, while the other

Didn't exist to thee

The mirrored face among themselves

And simply turned out to be

Another book among the shelves

The face was simply me

So in this land of dark and grey

Not much is to see

If only she got her way

And she could be with me