| how to keep smiling when you're thinking of killing yourself. |
[entries|friends|calendar] |
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| party mix. |
[03 Sep 2004|07:58pm] |
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mood |
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garden state soundtrack |
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music |
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remy zero - fair |
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incase you didn't notice... this journal has been abandoned.
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| so much free time. |
[14 Aug 2004|01:13am] |
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mood |
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delirium |
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music |
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the faint - violent |
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okay, people. lets play a game, shall we?
i hate those.
but i have too much free time.
and you people just dont grasp things quickly.
so i figured i'd draw you a roadmap.
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| the end. |
[04 Aug 2004|09:14pm] |
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mood |
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axiom |
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music |
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the weakerthans - aside |
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i realized i really dont like the letter b.
if you're smart enough, or bored enough, or care enough. you just may figure this one out.
and if not, oh well.
EDIT:
i'm just so damn clever sometimes.
i felt i had to share that... okay, i'm done.
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| bull fighting in uruguay. |
[31 Jul 2004|04:11pm] |
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mood |
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branded |
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music |
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chumbawumba - tubthumping |
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its sunny outside and the sky is blue.
its hot, and i'm in sweats.
soon i will be watching kill bill.
i have a hellish burn on my right arm because the oven bit me.
.damn kitchen appliances.
and now i can add one more item to the list of inanimate objects which have banded together with the sole purpose of .killing.me.
as follows:
.odyssy one./
.those tunnel things you climb in as a child with the slides and shit.
.doors.
.potholes./
.highschool orientation[s].
.basketball[s].
.ovens./
.stoves.
two broken toes, three broken fingers (one twice), one sprained ankle, and two rather unpleasent burns later...
i am still alive. and starting to think i didn't get enough calcium during my formative years.
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| watch out for ovens, baby, they bite. |
[31 Jul 2004|12:09am] |
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mood |
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emote |
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music |
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the ravonettes - that great love sound |
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wait. wait. WAIT! does emo stand for emo-tional...? thats interesting. oh and guess what...
interpol stands for international.police.
yeah, thats right.
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| talk radio row. |
[30 Jul 2004|10:50am] |
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mood |
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duplicity |
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music |
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alanis morissette - eight easy steps |
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dont accuse me of being a perfidious anti-american, i'll accuse you of being a patriotic chauvanist...
how to lie to yourself and thereby to everyone else
how to keep smiling when you're thinking of killing yourself.
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| i finally opened my eyes, and discovered i was blind. |
[29 Jul 2004|10:02pm] |
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mood |
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cool summer breeze |
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music |
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third eye blind - never let you go |
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this, my friends, is what happens when stephanie gets bored to the point of absolute absurdity...
she opens her illegally downloaded Adobe Photoshop version 7.0, creates some ridiculous illustration, forces all of you unwitting fools to get off your lazy bums and retrieve a mirror, subjects you to her illustrious mood swings, and then procedes to talk about herself in third person.
spartan white room with one way mirrors and densely padded walls anyone?
maybe we'll be friends. i guess we'll see.
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| neon lights and trapdoors, so make your move. |
[29 Jul 2004|05:16pm] |
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mood |
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taboo |
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music |
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vast - pretty when you cry |
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what is it with short fat bald men on miniature motorcycles? honestly. it just doesn't make sense. i saw one puttering down the road the other day. i kept waiting for the noisy little machine to collapse so the middle aged bald man would end up ass down on the hot pavement. seriously, what is he thinking? i didn't even know they made motorcycles that small. or old bald men that big.
is it just me, or did the television stop making noise?
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| and the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air. |
[27 Jul 2004|01:12pm] |
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mood |
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américaine |
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music |
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lynryd skynryd - sweet home alabama |
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one.two.three.
sitting on the blue wooden bleachers, fifteen feet up, the sun bearing down. i spy the epitome of the modern day american family. two boys - twelve and thirteen, most likely not blood related - one having white blonde hair and being rather chubby, and the other having dark brown and being as thin as a rail, a mother - stringy brownish-blonde hair, beady eyes, a white button up t-shirt from the 70's, shorts from the same era, and a father - long brown hair, bandana colored like the american flag, sunglasses, a cigarette in one hand and a plastic beer bottle in the other. soon a racecar drives by and the twelve year old lets out a rather vociferous whistling sound...
now there's nothing wrong with that, cheer for your favorite driver, its only showing support. soon a scooter drives by, and the raucous episode is repeated. the twelve year old is offered a piece of gum by his slightly older compatriot. oh, thank god, maybe the needless whistling will cease. ( but no, three scooters, two vans, and three racecars later... )
gave proof through the night, that the flag was still there.
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| and i remember these things about you. |
[26 Jul 2004|05:34pm] |
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mood |
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on the brink |
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music |
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joydrop - if i forget |
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it was recently brought to my attention that i'm somewhat melodramatic, i believe the word 'martyr' was used... and yeah, i know. but its just a phase. one that's almost over. i can feel my cold, indifferent personality returning. and i'm glad, because i missed it. no one cares anymore, myself included. but before this part of me is gone forever, i'll share one last histrionic sentiment with you...
if you die, i wont cry at your funeral. because you're already dead to me.
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| mescaline, its the only way to fly. |
[25 Jul 2004|11:33pm] |
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mood |
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peyote button |
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music |
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none |
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so, i hear, my father and the dragon lady (deb, interesting nickname coined a year ago on our infamous trip to japan) are back together again. not surprising, and because i haven't seen her for seven and a half months i feel strangely detatched from the situation. its actually sort of funny.
her most recent stunt was pulled a few days ago... it turns out she called annie wright pretending, implying rather, that she was my dad's secratary (which she is not) in a failed attempt to acquire my financial information. i feel sort of funny explaining why she wanted that particular information, and why she couldn't get it... i feel such details could be used against me later, so i'll leave it to your imagination.
once again her outlandish tendencies prove to be quite entertaining. on the surface i can see why a lot of people might think deb was a great source of unresolved anger and irritation. but she's really not. the worst that came of this latest "episode" was i had to have a long conversation with my grandparents about the paralells between deb and linda (my grandpa's ex-wife, who shares a first name with my mother), the stupidity of my father and how he'd sacrfice my happiness and well-being if it meant he could be with deb (this fact i accept, and strangely it doesn't bother me), and how if deb tries to con me into therapy again i'm moving to eatonville and my grandpa will have to wake up at 4:30am to drive me to school every day. this conversation was rather annoying. everyone keeps telling me i shouldn't have to deal with her crap, and that she cant make me do anything i dont want to. i know this. i haven't seen the psychobitch in over half a year, she's not so much my problem, as she is my mothers.
if these two years before i leave for college and turn 18 dont go by quickly i foresee court dates, lawyers we cant pay for, child support issues, and restraining orders in the near future.
i only wish i was joking... my dad appologized about the "fake secretary incident" and my grandfather called a lawyer whose specialty is threatening to sue people for all they've got. deb, you and your shrink had better watch out.
ha.ha.ha.
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| trying not to ruin her. |
[24 Jul 2004|08:14pm] |
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mood |
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banality |
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music |
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third eye blind - semi charmed life |
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sometimes. i pick up the phone, and then i realize i have no one to call. it hurts to be so predictable. but you would know.
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| nitro is running through my veins. and stinking up my clothes. |
[24 Jul 2004|11:51am] |
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mood |
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NHRA |
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music |
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i think i'm deaf. |
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i have so much to say. i've been gone for four days, but i bet none of you have noticed. and thats okay, because honestly... i didn't really miss you. i think i'm going to divide my little "vacation" up into separate entries though, because no one likes reading long entries. i cant say as i dont like writing them, but thats another story...
so. what do i decide to do on one of the hottest days in washington state history? yes, thats right. return to my roots. return to the track. so, what do you get, when when the track temp is around 140 degrees F, you cut the nitro back 5%, and impose new tire regulations? slow cars, one very pissed off grandfather, and a lot of dust. and by slow i mean the top speed was 319 (mph, topfuel) and the lowest time i saw was 4.63 (seconds, to drive 1/4 mile) and thats actually pretty good considering the conditions. (however, this was only the 'qualifying' round. the real stuff is today and tomorrow. and sadly, i wont be there live).
tony schumacher; U.S. Army dragster
but, for my grandfather, nothing compares to the "formative years." despite the nitro regulation being around 50% and the top speed never exceding 200mph... the drivers were better, you had to spin the tires without automatic transmission, and the tracks were clean. back in the day, when my mom was a kid, my grandma wore short shorts and halter tops and pushed the car to the starting line herself. back when you could tell who a driver was by the way he shifted.
my grandpa was never in the top-bracket (the people you see on ESPN2, it was too much money). but he was good. and he worked on the cars himself. i wish i could've been there, to see him race. or even to see my uncle race. its a part of me.
nova. chevrolet.
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| diet rite, rhymes with sprite. |
[20 Jul 2004|04:27am] |
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mood |
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carbonation |
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music |
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no doubt - just a girl |
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despite my best efforts, which include staying up all night last night it is now almost 4:30am and i. still. cant. sleep. yeah, i know, its hard to get any more obvious than that. i hate this. so much. i just cant stop thinking, my brain just wont fucking shut off. i'd take some sleeping pills, but we dont have any. i'd watch tv, but at 4am basically every channel (including court tv) runs infomercials. damn worthless cable television. and i already watched 'the matrix' and 'the matrix reloaded' (we only have like seven dvds) twice. so i guess i'll just go read (yes, insert gasp here ____.) speaking of reading... read these:
the fall - albert camus
the stranger - albert camus
the wanting seed - anthony burgess
1984 - george orwell
those are just a few i've read lately. well not really, i read 1984 last christmas. so far the fall is my favorite. but camus is a genius. so duh.
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| blue eyes, sunrise. |
[20 Jul 2004|03:55am] |
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mood |
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phantasmagoria |
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music |
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no doubt - dont speak |
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i get really tired of this... feeling like i'm completely alone but knowing everyone feels that way. it's frustrating. frustrating because my life doesn't matter, frustrating because it feels like i'm going insane, and frustrating because i'm only one skip away from becoming a broken record. and even if i did have someone to talk to, even if i had a friend who wouldn't mind me calling them at 2am, or crying on their shoulder, or confiding in them anything and everything that i've been going through. i dont think it would help. it wouldn't help because i wouldn't be getting what i really want. what i need.
i can cry by myself. and i can write about what's bothering me in a journal. its just so hard, knowing that it. really. doesn't. matter. its hard trying to get over this narcissism. this feeling that when something goes wrong the world will fall down around me. and then the anguish i feel when it doesn't. i hate this self-centeredness, its only human and hardly avoidable, but i hate drowning in my own self-pity.
i hate knowing that i can't do anything, that i have nothing to give, no talent, no dream. but there is one thing i have, one thing i do. that no one else does, even though thats a lie. what good is writing if you just recycle the same old ideas over and over again? its beautiful, yes, and otiose. i am a writer who cant write. i dont have the words, i dont know the language. but what i do know... is to me, so much more important. it divorces me from the rest of the world. i'm isolated, and i'm alone. maybe even a little insanecrazybitch-esque. and i may not be able to express the beauty of urban america. but while you're contemplating the attractiveness of a traffic light. i'll be contemplating the lives of the people walking in the crosswalk beneath it.
"dont think for a minute that your friends will telephone you every evening, as they ought to, in order to find out if this doesn't happen to be the evening when you are deciding to commit suicide... no, dont worry, they'll ring up the evening you are not alone, when life is beautiful." - The Fall - Albert Camus.
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| how ironic is it, that nothing about this song is ironic. |
[18 Jul 2004|01:18am] |
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mood |
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foo |
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music |
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alanis morissette - ironic |
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okay, well i'm over my insanecrazybitch episode (at least temporarily). i have a lot to say, but i guess i'll start with a conversation i had with michelle today, or yesterday rather.
( blah, blah, blah. )</span> </span>
that's by no means the whole conversation, there was a lot more to it, most of which i took out because i dont want to offend anyone. ironically that conversation helped me a lot to express (well sort of) some of the things i've been feeling. thanks michi, i love you!
♥
and please dont misunderstand... i'm not so pretentious as to actually believe i'm "deep" or profound or a philosopher at all. i'm none of those things, and nothing i say or think about is original. i was just frustrated...
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| no more empty threats. |
[15 Jul 2004|02:06am] |
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mood |
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mordancy |
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music |
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the streets - turn the page |
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i'm getting so tired of this... you people are so worthless. i dont even know why i bother. no one reads it, so from now on i will just talk to myself (making all my journal entries 'private'). i think some major introspection is appropriate anyway. so good-bye. and i mean that in the most acerbic way possible.
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