Lacy Ribbons

I usually hated funerals, but there was something soothing about seeing her soulless face in that floral coffin. Probably because all her life that was where she wanted to be: soulless, dead, and in a coffin. It was what she lived for. Ever since we were little girls, she had it all planned out.

“I am going to die the day before I turn nineteen,” she said. “I want to be eighteen forever. Doesn’t eighteen seem like it would be a great age to die?” She always asked, and I always replied with a yes. Though I was not sure, but I still agreed and I still listened. “But I have to do everything before I die, but I will never have kids. I hate kids,” she would say. “But we are kids,” I would reply. “Yeah, and I hate us too.” Lacy seemed to hate everything and everyone, but at the same time she loved the world. She was the kind of person that hung around in gardens reading. “I have to read one-thousand books before the day I die,” she once said. And she did end up reading one-thousand books. The first one being Tuck Everlasting, which soon after became her favorite book. The 1000th book was The Virgin Suicides, which was the book she was on the floor when they found her hanging. It was ironic, but not the humorous kind of irony, the kind that made you think. It was beautiful irony.

As we grew up she only became more obsessed with the idea of death. She spoke about it the way most kids would talk about Disneyland. “I only have three thousand, nine hundred, and thirty-four days before the day I die.” As she got older she became adventurous and she always had to bring me along. I was her side-kick and she was my hero. She had always been a fast bloomer. By ten she already had a figure, but by then she had already read thirty-five hundred books, kissed twelve boys, and had seen twenty R rated movies. When she was thirteen and I twelve, she had decided we were going to sneak out, and go to the city. Of course we were only twelve and thirteen, so we had no money nor did we know how to get there. So she used her many skills to make me bribe my fifteen year old brother to help us sneak out. Though it was not a bribe, because all I had to do was ask, and he said yes, but he had to tag along. She was in charge of getting the money. Though my brother had offered to help, but she had already had a plan. She always had a plan.

The night of the great sneak out, my brother told my parents he was going to take me to go watch a movie. Obviously, they allowed it. She had told us to meet her in the garden. She only liked one garden, so we knew where to go. When we got there she was reading Catcher in the Rye by a bleeping blue light. She had a red hat on, a fit hounds tooth jacket, jeans, and saddle shoes. Right next to her there was large laced bag with her name written in lace. “Hey, what’s in the bag?” I asked. “Three thousand, nine hundred, and thirty-four dollars,” she said with her eyes on the book. “How did you get all of that?” My brother inquired. “By doing something I had to before I died anyway,” this time she looked up, but she did not look at me, only at him. “Which is?” he asked. “I stole,” she smirked and then focused her eyes back to the page. “I am almost done, just give me a minute.” Minutes later she shut her book. “Change of plans,” she preached. “Tonight we shall scrub the ‘fuck yous’ off the walls.” I did not understand, so I asked, “What’s a ‘fuck you?’”

We ended up never even leaving the garden. She told me I had to sit on the bench, read the book, and not get up until I knew what she meant. She took my brother’s hand, the heavy bag, and told me they would be back when I understood. I finally got what she meant by sunrise, and then they emerged from the bushes. They looked as though they had rolled around on a freshly painted Monet. Later that day she told me that she lost her v-card, but then I didn’t comprehend.

By fourteen her and my brother were dating. She would end up always sleeping over my house. We told everyone we were having sleepovers, though she stopped sleeping in my room after the first night. I would sometimes try to hear what they were doing, but I never stayed too long. I always was afraid I would get caught. I was always afraid she would stop being my friend. So I began to hate my brother. She kept telling me she had to do everything, and one of those everythings was falling in love, but like always she had a plan. She told me she was going to break up with him on her 18th birthday, because she wanted him to stop loving her before she died. At this time she had a Bob, and twenties inspired clothing. Her favorite book of the year had been The Great Gatsby. She even inspired me to get a Bob, but it looked strange on my still formless body. I thought I was hideous, but she told me otherwise. “You’re just a late bloomer,” she would say while I glared at my ugly reflection. This was the year I went into a deep depression, and began to write crappy poetry. Most of them were about her, and I how I wished my brother was gay. She soon found them, and began to hang out with me once again. She was my reason to be happy, and I was her only friend.

When she was fifteen we began to sneak out to the garden nightly. She was still with my brother, but he had moved out. He was now in college, and I now had my friend back. He visited monthly, pretending he came to see the family, but he only came for her. We began to experiment with narcotics. First it was cigarettes, then alcohol, weed, E, and some harder things I never had the guts to try. The garden became our escape. At this time she was reading books like Go Ask Alice, Cut, Girl Interrupted, and The Perks of Being a Wallflower. I began to realize that the books she read inspired her to do even more things before she died. She kept telling me we needed to go to parties, and that I needed to get a boyfriend. But because we were such social outcasts we had no parties to go to nor were there any guys that would ever like me.

She got a job at a ribbon store when she was sixteen. It as a tedious job filled of fake hellos and lying smiles, but that was the point. It was another one of those things she had to do before her last breath. In a way the job was perfect for her. She loved lace, ribbons, and floral print. She actually had gotten the job because of her name, and the outfit she wore that day; which just happened to be a floral dress. She liked the job, because she was allowed an unlimited amount of ribbon, and, since there were not many customers, she could just read. At this time she had begun reading more classical books. Mostly anything by Shakespeare and Jane Austen. Two other people worked with Lacy: Mrs. Rose, the owner, and Aaron, her son. Mrs. Rose was a nice pudgy lady with curly red hair, who created beautiful children. The first time I saw Aaron was the week Lacy got the job. She made me go visit, because she told me she had something amazing to show me. That “something amazing” just happened to be Aaron. Gladly, by this time I had already begun blooming. I was no longer that ugly duckling, but I still felt like it. After that first week I never stopped visiting. I would hang out with them during their shifts and breaks. We no longer were just two.

Lacy was still working at the ribbon store when she turned seventeen. She kept telling me that Aaron liked me, but I never believed her. Until the day he asked me out. She told me she would help me prepare. I kept asking why? She answered, “Because I don’t want to you be alone when I am gone.” This was when it clicked: She was actually going to do it. She pulled the hair out of my face, “Your eyes are too nice to hide them. It’s one of the things I liked about you and your brother so much. Since when I look in those big dark eyes, I feel closer to death.”

The next two years passed quickly. Aaron and I got together, and we even went on a double date with Lacy and my brother. Which was one of the most awkward nights of my life. We later went to a college party. We even went to a ribbon party. On her 18th birthday we went to Disneyland. She broke up with my brother on the Tower of Terror, just before the first drop. She obviously did not know that there was more than one drop. After that my brother stopped visiting, and Lacy began to become more distant and melancholic. She was obsessing over Edgar Allen Poe, Chuck Palahniuk, and depressing foreign writers. I was almost off to college, and she was almost off to the afterlife. But that last summer was worth it. Aaron flied the three of us to Europe. Lacy and I asked how he got the money, and all he said was “Ribbons.” After that trip, she rarely hung out with me anymore. She even stopped going to work. I always thought her last year would be her happiest, but all she wanted was for it to end. She often sat, in the garden, reading. I would visit, but she wasn’t really there. Sometimes she came over, but she only got more distant.

Lacy Ribbons had chosen her fate long ago. She knew what she had to do. If she didn’t her life would have been a lie, and Lacy never lied. She lived her life in the reality of books. Aaron and I tried to hang out with her those last few weeks, but we were starting college. She told us she was happy that it was almost her birthday. She even told us that she was almost done reading her 1000th book, and that she had done everything she could ever imagine. She was happy she knew us. Then the day finally came: The three thousand, nine hundred, and thirty-fourth day.

When they found her hanging in her room, all her books, but one, were in boxes labeled “To my best friend.” Her long hair was covering a smile, she was wearing a lace dress, and The Virgin Suicides was on the floor. She had hung herself with floral ribbon.

Banana Split in Two

So here I am.

Alone.

Yet, I am on my first date.

I am 18.

In a crappy dinner.

The same dinner where I met this date.

The same dinner where I used to spend hours dreaming about meeting someone.

Then a week ago that dream came true.

While sitting in my corner bar seat, someone actually sat next to me.

And for the first time this person did not ignore me, was not hideous or female, and actually sat there for a purpose.

The purpose being the lonely long faced girl drinking coffee by her self.

Yes that was me.

I had never been anyone’s purpose before this.

I found it creepy.

He sat next to me and ordered a Banana Split.

It was 8am.

He smiled at me.

He being a stranger at the time.

A stranger with a Velvet Underground shirt, Buddy Holly glasses, dirty jeans, and slippers.

I can admit I found him interesting.

He had innocence in his eyes.

I had melancholy in mine.

When the lady, I always called her “the lady”, gave him his Banana Split I mumbled something.

Something I would have hoped no one heard.

Something no one would have heard if it was a normal day and I alone in that corner.

But this something was heard by the Banana Split ordering smile wearing boy who sat uncomfortably next to me.

He asked me what I had mumbled.

He asked this with a smile.

I just looked at the bar.

I was blushing and then I spoke.

I told him that I mumbled how I used to know someone who used to eat that same thing for breakfast.

He asked who it was.

I told him it used to be me.

This little fact would not let him leave me alone.

But I really did not want him to leave me.

I hated being alone.

He asked what changed.

I told him everything.

“But what was everything”, he inquired.

I told him that everything was too long to talk about in only one day.

“So let’s talk about it over a night.”

That is how I got here.

One week and 10 hours later.

And I am early or he is late.

Maybe it’s vice versa.

But for the first time in a long while I am not sitting in my corner.

But I am alone.

But I am alone waiting to not be alone.

That does sound like me.

I was worried.

What if he forgot?

What if a crazy clown attacked him on his way over and now he was being murdered in a really small colorful car?

What if he stood me up?

Did I say that this was my first date?

And I made sure that I was not confused.

I asked if it was a date.

And he smiled and said yes.

It was a date.

As I sat there thinking of the worst possible reasons why he was not smiling in my direction.

I did not think of the most obvious.

Which was: He was late.

Or well what really happened was something else.

He was late because he was washing his only pair of pants.

And because it was the first time he had ever done this on his own, he assumed that it would take only a few minutes.

Of course he was wrong.

But worried that he would leave the melancholic girl, which was me, in a worse mood he left the laundry mat with partly wet pants.

Moments later he would rush into the Dinner.

Freak out because he could not find me.

Finally see me, sit down, say sorry multiple times, and then tell me what I just told you.

When was finally seated and comfortable he told me he liked my shirt.

Mine being of Lou Reed the lead singer of what was once The Velvet Underground.

I told him I must have put it on subconsciously.

I lied.

I did it on purpose.

I even wore my thick glasses.

But I also a lot more make than I usually wore.

I felt kind of hot, but also a bit trampy.

And this came from someone who wearing pants.

Of course skinny jeans, but then I also wearing a granny sweater.

I looked like a hot granny.

I bet there is some hot grannies out there.

I just the kind with a never been opened vagina.

And never been kissed lips.

And my god I sad excuse of a girl.

A shut in until I met him.

This night he was wearing the same dirty pants that were now wet, the same Buddy Holly glasses, but a different shirt.

A vintage polo shirt.

And different shoes.

Grandpa shoes.

It made me smile.

He was my grandpa and I his grandma, but that just sounds wrong written down.

It was much cuter in my head.

He told me it was nice to see me smile.

I did not even notice I was smiling.

I never smiled anymore.

Then he asked me why did I ever stop smiling, and was it the same reason I stopped eating Banana Splits?

I nodded and lost my smile.

I stopped because I lost more than my smile.

I lost a friend.

This friend was my best friend.

She was my first friend and my only friend.

She was also a bit of a dare devil.

She was the reason for any excitement in my usually dull life.

She was flirt and not afraid to reach for what she wanted.

She was everything I was not.

And that was exactly what I needed.

But with excitement comes risks.

One sad dumb day she chose go on a date.

I usually go with as a third but on this day she wanted to go alone.

The risks name was Diablo.

Not his real name.

His real name was Tim, but he wanted something more “hardcore.”

Simple minded Tim.

But his name did suit him, because underneath that simple mindedness was a killer.

Well just an idiot, which though it was romantic to leave your date on train tracks, while you left to get her a present.

She was blind folded and listening to her ipod.

The present was a banana split.

That was why I no longer ate Banana Splits.

Too much excitement for me.

He told me he was sorry.

I told him he had no reason to sorry.

He was neither an idiot nor a Tim.

Then I asked him if his name was Tim.

Just for precautions.

No, he said, his name was Joseph.

Not Joe.

Not Joey.

Joseph.

Good, I told him, because I could never date a Tim.

Nor a Banana Split.

That is just not right.

The boy named Joseph smiled.

He told me he though I was funny.

He also said he understood how it felt to lose someone, because he had recently lost someone himself.

This was the reason he moved away from home and the reason his pants were wet.

His mother died.

Not because of risks but because she had none.

She was a shut in who was home one night alone.

Her husband had left years before and all she had was a son.

But he chose to actually have a life that night.

A really bad night to choose to start living.

That was the night a stranger came to visit his house.

The stranger knocked and his mother kindly opened the door.

She was always too kind.

Long story short when he got home the house was surrounded by flashing lights.

He left town with only his and a trunk full of stuff after the funeral.

I told I him I was sorry.

He told I did not have to be.

I told him we should probably eat something.

How about a Banana Split?

I told him if he thought I should split.

He thought something dirty.

He told me later that night.

But instead he was sorry and that that was insensitive.

Thank was all said and asked if would rather just split to my apartment.

He said he would quite like that, because he was tired of being alone.

I was tired of that too.

We grabbed our stuff and walked out the front door.

Then to his car.

Which was a old Volkswagen bus.

A hippy car.

On the inside it was filled of home.

It was odd that fully loaded car there was no jeans.

I checked.

I gave him the directions to my apartment.

We listened to The Velvet Underground.

He parked in my garage.

Next to my white Vespa.

We walked up to my apartment and I opened the white door with the number 32 on it.

For the first time I acted on my impulsions and kissed him.

I was not alone anymore.

We were not alone anymore.

We now had excitement.

But with excitement comes risks.

This is now my writing blog.

Since I hate that my tumblr is being clouded by pictures. So because of that I feel like people are only following me for the pictures, and that no one cares about my writing.

At all.

But now, if they do care... they can go here.

Inanimate Eyes

Once again I had to reenter the billion year old house where my Grandmother hides from everything. It is a crypt filled of lost belongings which are surrounded by a grim smell. The smell of death and ancient dust. My Grandmother slowly crawls out of her room, fixing the curtains as she passes. I say hello and kiss her soft falling cheek. In Spanish, she tells me how I should smile more. I pet her cloudy white hair. The same hair my Mother has, but always paints. Then I give a fake smile and drift away. I sit in the wooden frame that is embedded in pillows. My Mother sits with my Grandmother in the lace dining area. There’s a room in the corner where my mother says she was born, and in the walls there are rumors of forgotten caskets. They start to talk about family and gossip. I begin to slowly fall into tedium.

Before I know it I am dreaming. Imagining I am back home. Seeing my loud little black dog, barking and hopping in excitement. I tell her to shut up. All I want is my soft bed. All I want is to be surrounded by my books once again. Then I get to my bed. I lay down, and then the books begin to multiply. Before I know it the books are surrounding me. Then all of the sudden they disappear, my room becomes pitch black, and a Mexican priest comes out of the shadows. He is telling me to become a believer once again. To rejoice in God’s name and allow his love to surround me like the books that took his place. I start to smell menudo and soon I realize that it was a dream.

I wake up; notice my Grandmother turned on the television. It never shifts from the religious channel. Today there is a Mexican priest speaking about believing. I don’t believe him. I slowly sit myself back up, but my butt is asleep and I have a stomach ache. I need to pee, and the smell of menudo has woken up Hunger. He had only fallen a sleep a few hours ago. I decide to go to the restroom, not realizing how much danger this would put me in. I wait for my butt to join Hunger and wake up. And then I stand up on my tired feet. I was wearing Doc Martens, though it was too hot for boots. It’s always to hot for boots in Mexico. But I knew I was coming to this house, and this house always has a chill. I move one boot in front of the other. Watching the cracked floor as I move, but they catch me: The dolls, the old photos, the saints and gods, and even the eyeless stuffed animals. I move faster; ignoring them. I can’t look up. I just can’t. If I look at them I will be sure to panic. Those ancient dolls with their red eyes. Those vintage photos with their dead eyes. Then the saints and gods with their believing eyes. And even the stuffed animals that no have no eyes.

They will all look at me the moment I look up. They know everything about me. What I do at night, and how I’ve started smoking. They probably even know about that one time I wore that revealing shirt, went to that ugly place, and did that one thing I will never do again. They know everything, because they have been following me ever since the first day I entered that house. Ever since I was less than a year old.

These dolls are the reason for my, indescribable, fear of all inanimate things that have or should have eyes. Well it is describable. But, because I am panicking about my, quite describable, fear of inanimate things that have or should have eyes, I run into the metal bathroom door. My Mother screams at me asking what happened. I tell her the bathroom doors ran into me, and then I open those cruel doors. While there I do what people usually do in the bathroom, but, unlike usual people, I have to sit on my Grandmother’s old lady toilet seat. I pretend I am levitating. I do the rest, you know, empty my bladder, and then wash my hands in the small pink sink. The weak water barely can fight off the little amount of soap that I’ve put on my hands. .

When I exited, I remembered not to look up, but I did not go back to that pillowed wood. Instead I take a right turn into my uncle’s room. The room where I have spent multiple nights in as a kid. In that bed, with red old sheets, I had attempted to sleep as the world outside the window screamed at me. Some years, when my uncle would visit; he and his son would take that same room. In that bed his son had very moist dreams. Mischievous dreams that loved emptying his bladder. And those came again and again until he was 16, but that is only because he stopped visiting when he was 16. I sit on that same bed, still not looking up. I remembered that one year I fell asleep when I arrived from the airport. When I woke up there was a dead rat next to my face. On that bed, with the same red old sheets, I became an insomniac. Finally, I look up, and there was the only photo I could never be afraid of. It was the photo of my late Aunt, a woman everyone said I looked like. She was my Mother’s best friend. She had died before I was born. In the same crash that took my Grandfather. Two people I would have loved to meet, but also the same two people I will never meet. My Mother has always talked so fondly about them. Telling me stories that are always changing.

As I look at that picture, she smiles at me, like she always does, and I smile back. At that moment, I forget about everything. I forget about the red sheeted bed that once was moist and that made me an insomniac. I forget about the bathroom and the levitating toilet. I forget about running into the door and the walking on the cracked floor. I forget why I ever wore those boots. I forget the priest telling me too believe and the books once surrounding me. I forget my dog and her repetitive barks. I forget my Grandmother’s old soft skin and how one day she was sure to disappear. I forget my Mother who always gossiped, and how she has my Grandmother’s curly hair. I forget I fell asleep. I forget the dusty smell of death that I kept inhaling. I forget all the gossip and the rumors that echoed inside these walls. I forget that one day I might just be a photo on those walls. And most importantly, I even forget my fear of all inanimate things that have or should have eyes.

For that moment, all those inanimate eyes were off me.

Woot, Redundancy!

P.S.

I annoy myself.

Yeah, so how has life been Blog?

My Intro to Writing and Literature class has reminded me of how I don't use this blog anymore.

I have been using my tumblr more than anything.

Almost a year with that blog, and I have 2000 followers.

I don't even know how that happened.

The thing is, I feel like they're not following me for my writing, but for the "pretty" pictures I post.

So maybe I will start using this blog again just to post the stories and poems I feel too self-conscious to post on tumblr. Maybe not. Don't feel like making up my mind yet.

Anyway CCA is great. It's really great to know that not all writers are like that douchbag from high school. You know they are not all pretentious dicks, who love to brag about the books they published, and act like they are best writers in the world. A lot of them are self-conscious like I am. They don't write perfect pieces in one sitting, and they are not pretentious dicks.

Okay, maybe a tad bit. Not so sure yet.

So far they all seem nice. Maybe a little too nice.

I really don't know. It is only the first few weeks of school.

I may never know.

Anyway, there is a Freaks and Geeks marathon on IFC. So, because I partly sick, I will watch it and do my 2D homework. Then later I will probably read, because I still have to do a lot of reading. I like reading. I like college.

http://edacevis.tumblr.com/

New blog: edacevis.tumbler.com

Always

I always hoped for it this way

as I stayed wishing by the bay

I hoped for a romance

for the love of glance

I always hoped for it this way

I wanted someone like him

to make everything less dim

One that could show me the light

to make me loose all fright

I always hoped for it this way

I wanted someone to scare my fears

Someone I wish I could hear

One voice that brought jumps of joy

Even just a voice that could not annoy

I always hoped for it this way

I wanted someone that made me lost

Love that was lost with no cost

Lost with no fear of breaking down

Someone that always lost my frown

I always hoped for it this way

But this is all just a dream

My imagination in a stream

He will only be one stare

One that was always too fair

I always hoped for it this way

as I stayed wishing by the bay

Always trying to define myself.

hopelessly lost

lonely

romantic

realist

optimistic

dreamer

sad

happy

pessimistic

I am all of these.... all my different moons.

Oh Dear.

You know when you go somewhere and you notice someone.

Someone new and very different to you. Someone with something remarkable. Something that will not leave until another comes along. Oh dear, that has happened to me. Mr.Puppyeyedblonde, that is now his name. I may never know his name, but his stare will forever be known to me.

Mr.Puppyeyedblonde

Saw him once

Noticed little

Saw him twice

Noticed more

Saw him thrice

Now he's stuck

Lost in my mind

His stare, his eyes

Who is he?

I'm not sure

But his stare

is now mine

in my brain

locked forever

Who is he?

that is the question

Never.

I never hoped for it this way

as I stayed wishing by the bay

I hoped for a romance

not a fear of glance

I never hoped for it this way

I did not want it with him

I wanted one less dim

One that could show me the light

to make me loose all fright

I never hoped for it this way

I did not want so much fear

I wanted someone I wanted to hear

One voice that brought jumps of joy

Not a voice that brought to much noise

I never hoped for it this way

I wanted someone that made me lost

Love that was lost with no cost

not lost in fear of breaking down

Not someone that only brought a frown

I never hoped for it this way

But what can I do to not break him

I can't tell him the truth too dim

that he will never be the one I want

that he's not the one that I dreamt

I never hoped for it this way

as I stayed wishing by the bay

Mother.

the scream came out from the living room

random threats all in one boom

my mother thinks I hear it

I do, but I ignore it

She always seems to scream

later acting different than it seems

showing me too much love

like it all came from up above

Then it goes back to shouts

about me not cleaning and other bouts

Sometimes I can't stand them

but then she returns to a happy hem

I love her all of these ways

not matter what I say

she is my only mother

always better than my father

Too Fairy Tale

Even if the Sun may burn me

in this light you look so keenly

My insecurities burn a hole

hiding just like a mole

but you seem to help me out

with that smile loosing doubt

my heart is flying way too high

but I never stop to wonder why

something about us is too fairy tale

but you won't find me looking for bail

when our time comes to an end

I will wait for dreams to descend

Bright Star

Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art

Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art-- Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite, The moving waters at their priestlike task Of pure ablution round earth's human shores, Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask Of snow upon the mountains and the moors-- No--yet still stedfast, still unchangeable, Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast, To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever--or else swoon to death. John Keats I must watch the movie!!!!!

RECAPP!

"If you're wondering if I want you too..."

I love Weezer!

They make me so happy.

It's easy for me to be happy but also so eay for me to pretend I am happy.

For I am the most awkward person on Earth.

Even if you really can't see it.

I am too insecure.

I hide way too much.

Instead of writing here I have been writing in my journals.

I filled one up. WOOT!

Started a new one, that will one day be full too.

I have been freaking out easily.

A single scream may drive me crazy.

School, is all good.

But making me feel stupid.

Being in a smart class makes my GPA feel lonely and embarrassed.

Really, it wants to hide for all those overachievers.

Sure, they may look all nice, but what do they really think of me.

I am doing good in the class.

I have a B aka an A.

I am trying not to find younger boys cute.

I fail at that.

I am stage manager.

I am not sure if I am doing good, but I am sure trying.

I hate that I feel envy.

Yes, I am envious.

My anxieties are overwhelming me.

Fear of my future.

Fear of failing.

Fear of loosing people.

Fear of feeling stupid.

Fear of feeling pointless.

Should I make the list go on?

No, it's too depressing.

I know it is.

It makes me crazy.

I am a looooon.

The arts save me.

I love art.

I love movies.

I love inspiring, cool, nice, shy, short, tall, people.

But I will always feel awkward around the new ones.

Or even my friends.

I am forever out of place.

Forever the puzzle piece that does not fit in.

That is I.

I have always been that little piece.

I am usually good at hiding it.

What is happening to me?

All my fears attacking me at once.

Why now?

Why oh why, do I hide it all?

I don't want people to worry, yet I want them to care.

I want to be loved.

Omg, what up with the angst.

I thought I lost all of that in 9th grade.

I guess, it will follow me forever.

Even if I have it better than some.

I know it's true.

It makes me keep trying.

Along with a lot of things.

For I am an optimistic, missed with some realistic views.

But I have my pessimistic moments.

Horrid moments that overrun me for weeks, days or just hours.

See my mind is wild.

It never stops.

Never.

Really.

It's always doing something.

Thinking.

Breathing.

Dreaming.

Fearing.

Remembering.

Until the day I die.

I hope that will take it's time to come.

Really, I need to live.

I need to see my greatest day, moment, friend, love and thought.

I will.

I will.

I write.

Pain pain poam ooow

I am not going to care how my grammar looks.

Oh dear I won't since I AM NERVOUS AND IN PAIN.

I hate PMS and waiting for Cast Lists.

And I did not get a part.

Am I fine with this? Yes

Am I hurt by this? Yes

Will anyone see it? Hopefully no

Well I am going to be Stage Manager!

Hopefully!

My End

the year has come

the last of the four

now I am grown

matured in many ways

yet still immature in many more

still lost in procrastination

still lost in her stupidity

hiding from her own intelligence

since when that day comes

when I find that last drop

I will be gone

just a flower on the earth

creating other flowers

as the animals steal my nectar

passing trough the high sky

I just wonder "My Oh My"

my end became many

many new things soon to end

but first they create more

feeding others

humans, animals, plants and bugs

everything seems so snug

yet I watch in all the glory

seeing the Earth be true beauty

being only a stop

in the Circle of Life

so my end, becomes the begining

That is what I say

with those songs from up above

lost in all that stupid love

can I give a stupid chance

could I even give a true glance

since I am I

lost as a fly

never saw a ugly sky

to lost in "What if"

to stubborn to even frock

maybe just listen to a rock

since my eyes are drooping

my heart is melting

among those that are too lost

dancing to the lovely tunes

I am too still

too smart to dance

yes, that is what I say

but what want

oh so much want

wanting to dance

with those that prance

that fairylike dance

should I really give it a chance

this is why I stand

they are lost in the song

I lost in the thought

too smart to dance

yes, that is what I say

My Turn

This is a night

where nothing is right

thinking of those that have gone wrong

all those I still walk among

hoping on the future

to never see murder

to walk with the few

that see it all new

my fear is going

never showing

dreams colliding

some are dyeing

I might just hide

Lost in this bind

confused about things religious

all too presumptuous

still glued to the fear

of always being the dear

lost in front of the headlights

lost behind all those frights

it has to be a new start

stop being afraid of the sharks

for it is my time to jump

even if the fall lands me a bump

it is time for me to show the truth

to get out of all this goo

that has hidden me from you

time for one to become two

the one that hides

the one that will shine

for I am many

see it all perfectly

Hiding it from the Moon

the mother too all that swoon

who gives us love

from up above

Hiding it from the Sun

the father to all the fun

keeping a smile upon the face

that always has a special place

now it's my turn to swoon

to finally see the Moon

to stop hiding

and to stop running

now it's my turn for some fun

to bum around in the open Sun

to finally give this face

some kind of special place

It is my turn

no need to fear

no need to worry

to hide, to run

It is my turn

my turn, my turn.

Debate: Me Vs. Me

Debating wether to do my English homework.. I was sick... I do get an extra day... but if I don't... hmm maybe I should do it.... >< gosh I wish she gave us a syllabus.

London Calling.

New Goal: Live in London, for a few years.

Probably be a transfer student for a year or get my Masters there.

I just feel like it calls for me.

Like it wants me to be near.

Maybe I just want to be near it.

Along with the accents, the pubs and everything new.

Then it's back to San Francisco to find a vacant store.

Open my bookstore.

Write and do what ever I please.

I am in not in a hurry for fame.

I write for myself.

Not for fame.

Not at all.

Love it.

Then.

Now.

and

Forever.

Cat Eye.

These are my new glasses, well one of them.

The other, has no brand.

So it was impossible to find it on here.

These have a brand; Banana Republic.

They are called Gwyneth.

They are my vintage outfit glasses.

The other ones will be for my more modern outfits; I guess.

Freaking weird to soon have two glasses.

Thanks to random sales.

><

Ok, I am done.

maybe.rant.see.write.type.

Headaches and heat.

Heartaches and ants.

Heatwaves and glasses.

He knows nothing and she knows it all.

I am not sure what that was all about.

Took me by surprise myself.

Well today I bought two new pairs of glasses.

One = Vintage Cat Eye.

Two = Just Cute Glasses that have Cheetah Print. ><

My mom has begun to make fun of my infatuation with vintage.

I have always had this infatuation, it's only just now that I take it full on.

But I have always loved it.

My favorite movie as a kiddo was Pleasantville.

My favorite cars were those 50's cars .. in pink, along with the all time favorite; The Beetle.

I have hella homework do to be being awfully ill.

Ants have invaded my room.

I have no mercy for these ants.

So I kill them with a giant pencil.

Now that I have two new pairs of glasses I can get contacts at Macy's for free.

I will have imaginary green eyes. ;]

My parents left for church without me since I whined about homework.

I forgot my English binder, need the vocab words.

My camera is missing it's memory chip.

I am awfully worried about school.

I have anxiety problems.

I should be finishing Thursday's math homework.

I hate math.

I need to pass or it's community.

I hate the word "I".

My mom thinks I have lost faith in God.

I am just confused.

Pretzels or freaking delicious.

ya me voy.

Sitting around in the heat.

The dreadful weather caused me to do something I would never before.

Well actually I think I've done it once; be shirtless.

Don't worry, I have my underclothes on and a skirt.

Along with the fact that my window and door are tightly shut.

If I choose to leave my island of a room; I will put on a shirt.

It's just the fact that heat and illness go awfully wrong together.

I already can't think as it is.

The heat only worsens the situation.

I tried memorizing my monologue, the heat was overwhelming.

I thought of doing homework, my head was in too much pain.

It's not a good day.

I detest it.

I truly do.

really really do.

=[

Frida Quotes = Love

"I paint my own reality. The only thing I know is that I paint because I need to, and I paint whatever passes through my head without any other consideration."

"The most interesting thing about the so-called lies of Diego is that, sooner or later, the ones involved in the imaginary tale get angry, not because of the lies, but because of the truth contained in the lies, which always comes forth."

"Feet, why do I need them if I have wings to fly?"

"I hope the leaving is joyful; and I hope never to return."

"I paint self-portraits because I am so often alone, because I am the person I know best."

"I think that little by little I'll be able to solve my problems and survive."

"I tried to drown my sorrows, but the bastards learned how to swim, and now I am overwhelmed by this decent and good feeling."

"There have been two great accidents in my life. One was the trolley, and the other was Diego. Diego was by far the worst."

=[

Hates that she has to miss school.

I hate it soo much.

Makes me want to cry.

Ogee cry for school.

I hate math.

Maybe it's just that teacher.... wish I had another.

Wish I had a teacher that would actually come up to me and ask if I need help.

I know I could never ask for help.

I could never be a burden... but now my teacher thinks I don't care... I do.. I just don't work well with numbers.

I am a word person.

A person with a love for beauty.

Art, words, music and History.

Not for numbers.

Numbers do not compute in my brain.

I need help.

I thought senior year supposed to be easy... maybe it truly is just the most difficult.

Sinus Infection

I am just so sick

my head is imploding

my heart is exploding

my voice has ran away

sometimes returning for hellos

My mind is in slow motion

today it's all slow motion

all taken in portions

never perfectly fine

hoping to be cured

of all the illnesses

that are confound in me

with all those pills

all those liquids

all the sleep

that never works

all the hopelessness

lost at the post

lost in the chemistry

all I need is to get better

yet here I am

filled with illness

DARN!

I am just too tired.

Random Note:

Did you know that I possibly have a lisp because of my brain?

Supposedly it's is a weird formation in my brain.

So I am stuck with my lisp for life.

see the beauty

walking alone

with the music booming

seeing the beauty

that surounds me

wishing to never stop this moment

wishing to walk for miles and miles

something ruins the mood

something ruins the beauty

I get over it

I get overwhelmed

by the beauty again

I feel like I am walking upon clouds

seeing the world from above

but I am just walking upon the Earth

the most beautiful thing, with some ugly spots

only the beauty overwhelms me

yet the ugly has it's days

days it wins

but those pass away

quick enough for me to forget them

or at least try

but on this walk I am lost

I am free

until I arrive at my destination

at my home

Why?

Am I so tired, busy and stressed.

Right now I am on the calm side.

Due to art projects and movies.

Yet today was on the odd side, when are they not.

It all starts off at 6am, I wake up magically on time ...but I choose to sleep in.

Wake again at 6:40, get dressed and the normal lady stuff.

I make a lunch with no sandwich, due to the lack of bread.

Try to eat something to get me hyper and full.

Wake my dad a bit on the late side.

When in the car I realize I forgot my phone on the kitchen table.

I go the rest of the day without my phone.

I run to the Library, that is EMPTY, to print my homework.

While I wait for it to print, I swoon over the math teacher I wish I had.

After the printing is all complete I go to meet up with my band friends that just got out of 0 period.

Soon later the bell rings.

I head off to English class and watch many presentations; while hiding the anticipation for my own.

When we get up there, we skip around lines but we all work it out.

I thought we did bad, supposedly we did good.

Then to my next classes, all normal and good.

Then in math I get a pass.

A pass to go to the Library from my counselor.

I thought it was something important, you see, something worth going to.

So I go to it.

It was none of that at all.

It was a intro to the Hermanas Program, something I could not do.

Something that made me feel way too Mexican and White Washed.

I stayed to waste time.

Then got to 4th period with ...10 minutes left.

Lunch was fine, so was the rest of my classes.

Then after school, when I expected to go to Journalism... I got lost.

They were not in Poore's then I went to the room where they were supposed to be at.. and saw detention.. so I assumed.

Along with the fact that I was already a bit freaked out, no phone, all alone and lost.

I wimped out, freaked out and just went home.

I was a bit on the sad side because of that.

I was really looking forward for it.

Really.

But I talked to some of the people and they said it was fine.

Gladly.

So now to random things, since I have not written in forever.

So, boys, I almost said bots.

Makes sense.

Well freshmen.... are so small.

I feel odd to even find them a bit attractive.

I like a "peedo", that is how british people say it. ><

Stupid young people.

Yet I would date a guy that was 4 years older than me.

I find it a bit hypocritical.

It's different, is it not?

Since woman mature quicker than man.

Right!?!?

><

My morals are confusing me.

AH!

ECK

BECK

TECK

SMCK

WHAT THE HECK!

><

I am too complicated, even for myself.

I have stress?

Supposedly, I had a very long Panic Attack today.

I just thought, I was nervous or just not used to school yet.

But no, it was a Panic Attack.

Thanks to being worried and stress.

Oh joy!

Weird too, since most of the worrying was pointless.

All my classes when fine, except the stuttering and freaking out.

Now I shall write a class my class documentation:

1. English 4AP.

Only 14 people in the class, and all were people that I get along with.

Ms. Poore, seemed very nice, a bit eccentric and is afraid of insects.

Not much happened, but I liked it.

2. Psychology.

I found it interesting, but I seemed very to myself.

Even though I knew many people.

3. Algebra 2.

Haaaate.

The teacher seems nice.

I know enough people in the class.

But I just hate math, and it was not good for my state of mind.

4. Economy.

Interesting, I got chocolate.

I have many friends in the class.

Though the center of the room had many people I was not so sure about.

The class finished quickly and I guess I was the calmest here.

Lunch.

I ate my healthy homemade lunch, and carried on.

Fun times, with best friends.

5. Italian 2.

I was way too nervous, I really started to freak out.

I calmed a bit but then got freaked again.

All in all, I know I will love that class.

6. Drama.

A favorite of mine, but so many newbies.

Some I could see were not meant for it; they were too shy and weary.

I really freaked out here, I barley could breath.

The whole day, I felt out of place.

Like all eyes were on me; like I would mess up.

I was freaking out and stressed.

Worried of what was to come.

I am always very self conscious, but today I was a bit off my normal chart.

Really more than a bit.

I even had mutable stress zits.

All in all, it was great but then again it was horrible.

dams.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I am angry at myself.

Tonight I promise the world and the moon that I shall really sleep.

I will take a sleeping pill if nothing else works.

I am one angry lady.

But I think I look cute, excluding the zit on my face and my tired appearance.

I am supposed to ride my bike today... what if I am sooo tired I crash.

or fall.

or something worse.

Ug, I hate it.

hate hate hate

I rarely use that word, I seem to mean it right now.

The moon was angry

did not leave the children in peace

all because they looked at the world sadly

they felt out of place

The children were hopeless

the Moon was mad

trying to rest with no success

they all grew sad

They had ideas

they had a plan

always with those see yas

trying to fight the man

The man was the clock

ticking their lives away

they were locked in a block

trying to see the day

they always lost

falling to the floor

no matter the cost

they never felt so poor

99.4%

That, my friends, is my temperature.

It is pretty high if you think of it.

Not high enough to be a fever, but high enough to be beginning of a fever.

It is only raising.

Well it dropped, then rouse.

So I am awfully confused.

I did just take some pain killer, but I only feel worse.

I really hope I feel better tomorrow.

I had plans.

I was going to have a social life.

I truly hope it drops rapidly.

Check: 99.1% at the moment.

Thank goodness, it dropped a bit.

It's truly awful, school starts soon and now I am sick.

I have an appointment with Ms. Alonso Monday, so I can fix my schedule before school starts.

You know, so I can have everything perfect on the first day of school.

Well, I am going to read until I pass out now.

Almost done with this book, it's actually good.

It's about ghosts, life and ex-slaves.

I like it.

I have to finish today or tomorrow.

Then I finish White Noise, then I read up on the book I had no time to finish.

You know so I am a bit more prepared if there is something to do with the middle or end of that book.

Since, I only read the first part.

Now my temp is: 98.8%.

So either I am getting better or my Spongebob thermometer is crazy.

Well wish me well, bye bye and nighty night.

New Glasses??

These will be the examples that I will base my search on.

Though I am really pushing for Round Granny looking kind.

B)

I may not be a Hot Mess, but I sure do love that CD.

Today was the day that my hands finally got the chance to caress Cobra Starship's third album. Best day of the week, may I add. Of course the mall what it's same awful thing.

Filled of teenagers I can actually recognize. Nothing worse that that, well there is but I just really hate seeing people. I bought the colorful CD at Hot Topic. All because Hot Topic is now the cheapest place to buy new CDs in the mall. Along with the fact that you get a deal aka the CD and Shirt for 20 buckaroos, deal. "Hot Mess" is the perfect CD to pop in at a party. It is sure to get someone tapping their feet. My favorite song off it just has to be "You're Not In On the Joke", I just love it. I got a colorful shirt to match, truly did. Well this is no review, this is just a LITTLE PART OF MY DAY. Though that was in caps. My day truly never began, and may not truly end. All thanks to the insomniac that I am ... or my horrible sleeping patterns. Since I stay up till 9 then pass out. May I say that this time I actually did try to sleep at a earlier time, it just did not work out.

The whole night I spent reading, or .... I am not sure what else. I do believe I saw a movie. Well when it hit seven I began to prepare my breakfast; which actually was Lentil Soup with fake bacon and mushrooms. I personally think that I am becoming a great vegetarian cook. Maybe I should forget the dream of owning a bookstore and open a restaurant instead, but I doubt that dream will die. Maybe my dream of being a Noble Prize winner, who wrote many books that became many movies, can die. That one is truly a huge dream and I don't want to write for fame, I want to write for me. But fame who be great... truly would.

Well after making my amazing Lentil Soup, my brothers kids came over. I took care of them then went to my room because I was actually becoming sluggish. So I laid on my bed and enjoyed some On Demand Personals, along with some laughs. Then I passed out and had the oddest of dreams. Truly the oddest. It had something to do with someone to kill me but the most bright part of that dream for me was a date. Some how, after almost being killed I ran to a theater so I could go on a date. A date with my cousins friend. I shall not state who for the reason that he may find out how to access this from my facebook. My cousin was out of Mexico, I was in Mexico, so I was stuck with my date and the other friends. When I ran into the theater he was waiting for me. I ran into his arms, and may I add the warmth was so realistic, then I told him what happened, I was almost in tears. He did not let go of me until long after we were in our seats, but really I let go of him. I let go of him after the concert got boring to me, odd because it was of one of my favorite Mexican singers. After that the seats became my bed and I started watching a move. Odd enough, I had a laptop. The whole time I had the urge to just go back into his arms. His warm loving arms, that made me feel so safe, so happy. I soon woke up from this marvelous thing of a dream. When I arose I still had the urge to run back into his arms. I wanted to tell him about my dream, I wanted him to know that I might just, possibly, actually, like him. But I forgot about that and hid it in my head and left it there dead. I could never risk it, risk the humiliation of being denied. I have never tried, not yet. I know one day I will have to. Hopefully that day takes it time to come.

fear

He followed her into the night

waiting for the day to come

she did not know he was not her track

she did not know there was a he

she did not sleep all of the night

not to even leave her room

not for fear, but because

she was herself inside her room

then dawn broke

the new had come again

she lets the animals out

she left the door open

he saw he came

she screamed

he ran

now she hides in fear

An eye for an Eye Makes the Whole World Blind.

Head is spinning, heart not dipping. I am not here to rhyme. I am here to type, tell, write and breath. So I am now skipping Brothers K, so I am start the other two smaller books. I already started it so I thought "Why not skip it, or better save it, until I finish the other two? It is wasting much time to read and I don't want to risk not reading the other two.." That is what I thought, and what I still think. I also came to the realization that I should never talk behind anyones back again. Even if I only do it when it's about someone that hurt me the same way. Yet again, they never find out I talked about them and when they do I hate it, then again I sometimes do it so they can realize that I know that they betrayed my trust. Well all in all, I am no longer doing that. If someone talks bad about me, I will make them feel guilty. Guilty because they will know that I fully did not deserve that. I don't want to make the world blind. So I stick with this for now. Well bye bye for now because my head hurts horribly.

Hide

I feel safe in this land

a selfish land of all I want

the sky filled of helpless sheep

never making even a beep

the floor bright green

with little purple dots

the house far off

built perfectly out of love

for I built it for my heart

every single part

so I could be safe

when the real world broke down

for I need a hideaway

to hide away from you

WOOOOOT wot

I made cookies, whole wheat, dark chocolate cookies.

They are great.

=]

Before making the amazing cookies, I went to the Thrift Store.

I bought a cute shirt, cute boots [that remind me of Dr. Marten's], cool bags and a weird secret storage thing [it looks like a book].

Now I read, since I have the urge to read... good Erika.

ehhh?!?

So, I am sick. Nothing new about that. Since, I am always sick. No, it's not the Swine Flu, I still hate that illness with all my heart. I am also annoyed by all who would, or will, ask if I have it. I am having much trouble with Brothers k. Though it seems like a good book but just does not seem to tickle my fancy. Maybe it's all the baseball. All in all I did realize a similarity with all the books Ms. Poore is making us read, God. They all have to do with questioning God. ALL OF THEM... well I have not read two yet.. So I might be a guessing fool. Well I know I am a fool, always have been and always will be.

Either way, my head hurts and I am a bit of the dizzy side. Saw a movie today, Funny People. I actually, truthfully, enjoyed it. I guess most people who did not like it were waiting for something filled of laughter and idiocy. That is probably why they hated it. Though it had those laughing moments, many in my world. Yet it also had a very serious side. It is about death and cancer. But it also shows how being a comedian is not all laughs, it has it's down sides just like any other job or dream. My head is spinning, not sure if this all makes sense. Going to have a shower now. Then I shall relax. Tomorrow I will use my day wisely and read the book, as much as I can, but more than I have.

Nighty Night.

Oh, It's now August.

=]

Why do I have an odd fascination with those balls in the sky?

You know how a lot of people always wonder if their unknown love is looking at Moon, exactly when the one who is wondering this is looking at the Moon or vice versa with the Sun?

Well when I look at the Moon, I wonder something tweety bit different.

I wonder if the person,  that I am destined for, is looking at the Sun while I am looking at the Moon or vice versa.

Cause, you know it could happen.

Yet again, you can sometimes see the Moon while the Sun is up.

Devoted

I just discovered Brothers K  is 700 pages...*death*

It looked so much smaller than Crimes and Punishment which was only 500. 

It's taking so long for me to read it as well.

I doubt I will be done by the 4th.. but I will try. 

After I have a shower tonight I SHALL READ.

Devoting the rest of the night to this book. 

I am devoted to a book.  

uck.

I hate how the Public Domain costs money... >:(

Dooply.

Today started with a rise. A rise from an unmade bed. Following a quick change of cloths and then a walk to the bathroom. Ran into my mother, said a few words. Went back to my room, ran into my niece, who said many words. Put on make up, took off make up. Ate a cheese filled sandwich, along with a smoothie. Sat while I ate, saw awful Christmas specials. Yes, in summer. Went back to my room, swallowed my boredom on the net. Tried to read, got distracted.  Took pictures of myself, deleted them. Tried to read again, read a few pages. 4 hours or so passed from my last mea, was not so sure. Mother called me to eat, I ate. Endured a Novela about an blind girl with a dead grandmother.  Changed the channel, sex. Changed it again, Pg-13 sex. Ate with my parents, my mother left. Father said "hmm", I screamed "Blah". Very random moment. Finished my salad, dropped dish in sink. Left to my room, sat here. Realized I was full. Wrote this. 

Woot! Witty Response.

Nephew : "Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire"

My Response : "No, You are the Liar. For I, would never be a buyer of pants that were on Fire."

Sooo made my day. 

Gosh, I am a hopeless romantic. 

Elizabeth and Anthony.

There was once a girl, that loved a boy. The girl was short, the boy was tall. She always waved hello, he never saw a thing. She always said goodbye, he never heard a thing. She felt invisible, but to him she was. She was perfect, so was he, except for the fact that he was blind and he was depth, never to hear his breath. She was stubborn, never gave up on those waves and those goodbyes. Until the day she got so mad, she screamed, she moved franticly and then she pushed him. Then for the first time he noticed her, for the first time she noticed the faults. After this, she loved him more. She hugged him, he was confused, but he allowed the hug to be done. 

Soon, she never left his side, he began to really notice her, to dream of her. Then one day, when the sky  was gold, the Moon and Sun looked down on them. Enchanted by the girl's love for this boy they said a chant. A chant that went somewhat like this: "Now, Oh Now, the boy will see.  Now, Oh Now, the boy will hear. Now, Oh Now, the boy will love. Now, Oh Now, it has begun." Then for first time in his youthful memory, the boys eyes turned green. For the first time, he saw the girl that loved him so. She noticed this, giggling with joy. He heard this, the first thing he had heard with his new ears. Then he spoke, for the first time, just like magic. "It's a miracle. You're my miracle. I have lived 18 years, and in those 18, I don't recall ever hearing, ever seeing and ever even speaking." he took a pause, to look at her "Now look at me, I am doing all of three of those. All at once, and it's marvelous. Just marvelous. I can't help but think, that it, this miracle, was all because of you. I have felt your hugs, I have wondered who you were. All I ever did was think nonsense, then you came along and I thought of you. What's your name?" In a sweet little voice she spoke "My name is Elizabeth, and I have known... seen you for years. I have loved you since the moment I first saw you. Though I loved you more when I realized you were not ignoring me just to be a jerk, but because I was truly was invisible to you. Now I might love you more, now that I am dream to you. Now that my dreams came true." At this moment, he put his hand on her mouth. "Shh, please. My name is, oh I remember now... It's Anthony. Oh, now I remember clearly. I lost my senses when I was four. Yes, I was four. The day I ran away. I fell you see." He had a dreamy tone to him, a wise one. "I fell down a well, a very short well, but a well. Gladly, it was very shallow. I was there for days. I panicked, I feared, and I stayed in the dark, in the silence until they found me. All I remember is someone taking me out of there, someone hugging me tight. Hugging me like you did that first day. Hugging me, like you found what was missing. See, you are my dream. I am glad you noticed that, I am glad I am your dream. I am glad to say that, I love you."  So they hugged, hugged for they now held the missing piece. The piece of  their heart, of their dreams and life. 

Behind the door.

I can't stand but like him, I can't stand it. 

He is too far, it's like I'm stuck in the side of the tar.

I am behind a locked door, feeling so poor.

He is on the other side, allows me to hide.

My mind is at war, wishing for more.

Dreamed of kissing, now I'm missing.

We joke around, a friend is found.

He sings a song, all wrong.

He talks in an accent, my heart is sent.

I can't stand but like him, I can't stand it at all.

dadadadadadadadadadadada!

I finished it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Crime and Punishment was a great book.

I don't even know why I feared it so much.

I should have not listened to others opinions on it.

I loved it.

It had suspense, sadness, humor and love.

I loved it. 

Now I read The Brothers K, which I plan to finish before August 4th.

I have nothing to do, except procrastinate. 

Then I read Beloved then White Noise, which I actually really want to read.

Then if I still have some summer left, I finish some books I never had the chance to last year. 

P.S. The Brothers K  is very descriptive.

P.S.S. I feel extremely stupid right now.

I also feel a bit sick...maybe it's connected.  

It came from the water.

Water is everywhere

along with the idiots that

always seem to inhabit it

I once swam in that water

enjoyed it until I pruned

but now I know there is more

more than this water

the world around it hold more beauty 

it holds more joy

though I must admit,

every once in a while

I still hop it. 

Well My Goodness.

You know how I was supposed to finish a book last night?

Well never happened.

I got lost in family, the internet and a movie.

The movie was great, may I add. 

Well all day I did nothing.

Well I babysat, rode my bike, cooked and .... internet.

SO, I did "something".

But not read... well not much.

Now I am going to read.

Read, to get some stuff out of my head.

Read, to me feel better about my self.

Read, because I miss my cat.

Read, cause I miss them all.

That is what I shall do.

!

Poem of the day. Wrote this last month, on the rode to Mexico.

if I don't find a place to sleep

I will need a place to weep

for I have fallen hard in love

 just like a chirping dove

never to be loved by the man

for I am not a part of his plan

but my love will never cease 

so I will ask him please

until the day that he loves me

I will never truly be

for now I dream upon the stars

wishing to hide on mars

[It's about no one personally.]

WELCOME BACK!!!!!!! ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am so happy, I am home.

Today, at 6:45 I landed back in SF.

It has been a long two months.

I have filled a journal filled of journals, poems, painting, doodles and many more random adorable things.

At the moment, I am obsessing over Panic's new song.

DID YOU KNOW THEY HAVE THE "!" BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am so happy, I am back to the place where I began.

Ohhh, want to hear the cutest thing in the world?

Yeah, I don't care. I am going to write it.

"My life was so miserable, since you were gone" my niece told me this today.

><

I love her.

I love it.

I missed it.

Yet I miss Mexico.

I miss my cousins, my kitten, my friends and the atmosphere.

 Along with the feeling that I am back in the 60's.. until I see a hipster... they ruin it.

I finish Crime and Punishment today. =]

Then 3 more summer reading books.

So I start The Brothers K tomorrow. 

I will finish that by this week, since now I have nothing to do.

Then I finish the last two, that are small so I am fine.

I am a senior now.

I like Martinis now.

I even like cats now.

I might even like a boy.

But that, my dear, is a completely different subject... well not really.