bought and sold out in the usa

2003-11-23T21:37:00.000-05:00

Her kisses cover my body, praising it for being beautiful. The wetness on my skin, the flash of tongue here and there, remind me that she’s tasting all that’s on display--my body, heart, and soul. I allow her to have me, to take control of my movements. “I’m yours,” I say.

To show her ownership, she ties rope around each of my wrists and ankles. I feel the tightness and restriction infringed upon me as they are tied to the bed posts. Aroused by the vulnerability my body faces, I gently moan to be played with. “Do with me as you like,” I command.

She smiles at me, replying with a simple, “Oh, I will.”

As her first act of foreplay, she climbs onto me, sitting on top of my pussy. Leaning back a bit, she spreads her legs, positioning each foot on either side of my body. Fully shaved and gapping open, I can see wetness coating her beautiful pussy. I hope that she will sit on my face and let me eat as much of her cunt as I want, but she does no such thing.

Instead, she puts her hand to her pussy and grabs it a few times. Then, just as I move my hips around a bit, her middle finger disappears into her cunt, quickly followed by her pointer finger. She teases my senses by masturbating at a close range to my face. The urge to lick her becomes stronger the longer I see her fingers move in and out, glistening with her juices.

“My slutty little girl likes that, doesn’t she?” I hear her ask. “Yes, I do,” I purr. “You’ll like this even better,” she smiles, giving me a very mischievous look.

I feel her arms move, then notice her slick pussy gliding up my torso. ‘She’s rubbing herself on me’ I internally comment as I process her actions. Feeling her smooth skin move along my own turns me on even more. She stops in a few different places, like over my belly button and on top of each breast, to grind her wet cunt into me. Finally making it to my chin, she asks if I’d like to taste her. “Please let me!” I beg.

Complying with my request, her cunt is brought to my lips and begs me to tongue fuck it. The smell of her sex is intoxicating, filling my nostrils and sending a tingling sensation to my groin. Licking every part of her moist folds and sucking her enflamed clit become the objects of my affection, soliciting moans from her mouth. Fucking her with my tongue causes natural up and down motions of her body. She rides my tongue as I fuck her with it.

Still enjoying the wonderful tastes of her womanhood, I am surprised by her request to stop. Reluctantly, I withdrawal my tongue back into my mouth and watch her body as it slides off of the bed.

“Do not think that we’re done,” she tells me as her body sways to the far left corner of the room. Retrieving some unknown object, she sashays back to me. “I’ve got an eight-inch surprise for you,” she teases, beaming, “It even vibrates!”

I watch her strap on the dildo with anticipation; I’m craving something hard between my legs. “Give it to me hard and rough,” I request.

Mounting herself between my legs, she gently slides the dildo into my cunt, causing me to groan. Pulling almost all eight inches out, she slams it back into me with ease and speed. Immediately I cry out, “Yes, yes, yes!”

“You like that, don’t you, slut?” she questions with her husky voice. “You like mommy fucking you like a whore!”

“Yes mommy! Fuck me like a cheap little whore,” I moan back.

Holding onto my hips, she slides in and out of me quickly, giving me long, hard strokes of her dick. I feel the vibrations escaping the dildo as it invades my cunt, causing me to get one step closer to my climax. With her right hand, she reaches one of my nipples and gives it a hard pinch; I feel the sensation of it in my pussy. “You’ve got slut titties, you cunt,” she yells, meaning it with good, naughty intentions.

“Mommy, I’m close to cumming!” I moan.

“Yes, cum all over mommy’s fat cock! Scream for mommy,” she yells, perspiration dripping from her forehead. She gives me a few more long, hard strokes, speeding up just a little bit. I know that she’s as close to cumming as myself.

“Oh! Oh! Oh! Mommy, I love you! I love you, baby! I’m, I’m, I’m...cumming!” I yell at the top of my lungs.

With that, she came as well, but still stroked into me a few more times. Finally exhausted from the workout of fucking me, she collapses next to me following the release of my wrists from the bed posts. She lays in my arms, allowing her hands to softly massage my breasts. Light kisses pass between us and conversation is held in soft voices as our sex-high takes over.

“Next time your daddy will have to join us,” she quips before drifting off to sleep.

2003-10-14T14:34:00.000-04:00

Open minded.

Liberal.

Free.

I'll try almost anything...

But I won't piss on you. I won't let you pee on me.

That's just a little too freaky -- even for me.

*          *          *

Don't forget to sign the guestbook. I like hearing from my readers. :)

2003-10-14T14:12:00.000-04:00

I'm scared to actually admit it. Saying it out loud would make it known to everyone. Writing it down would seal my fate. I'm not sure if I'm prepared for that kind of responsibility and commitment.

How long can you wait for me? What would it take to drive you away? I'd like to know, so that I can avoid alienating you.

We started out as fuck buddies. Something was different about you. You've changed me with your differences. I try to hide how I've evolved, but my evolution is apparent still.

I'm about to face my fear. So, listen up. This is something that I really need to say.

My 17 year old heart loves everything about your 19 year old self.

Now, you know.

I      LOVE      YOU

2003-10-14T08:06:00.000-04:00

Don't call me when you want a peep show -- I'll call you.

2003-10-14T07:48:00.000-04:00

You're not the only one. You know it and you don't mind. I'm allowed to have my fun when you're not around.

I don't discriminate when it comes to my lovers; Girls and boys, black and white, skinny and fat.

I've probably taken advantage of the lovers I've had in the past. Many of them have fallen in love with me, but I've never reciprocated their feelings.

You may be the one to change that.

I believe that you would've enjoyed watching (or partaking) in this morning's fun. Shannon dropped by to see how I'm doing. My tank top and little blue, bikini panties must've caught her eye.

I was very horny, which made me feel extra sexy. I wanted Shannon. You know my methods of turning people on. I came out with it, after dropping a few hints.

"Shannon, I want to eat you out, and then fuck you with my strap on."

I caught her off guard. Still, she admitted that she wanted everything I could give her.

She's laying in my bed right now, sleeping. I almost feel satisfied. Just looking at Shannon will show you how blissful she is. She still has that after sex glow.

Emotionally, you've got me. You'll continue to keep me. I know that it's safe to let you have my heart.

Physically, I'm still free. You are just as free as I am. One day we will change. Today, however, will not be that day.

Shannon is calling me back to bed. She's ready for round two. I love to hear her whisper what it is she wants to do to me.

I can't wait to find out what's behind that nasty mind of hers.

 *          *          *          *

Be sue to sign the guestbook if you read something on here that you like. I love hearing from my readers, whether I left you satisfied or not.

2003-10-14T00:02:00.000-04:00

Phone sex is amazing whenever you're the one who's seducing me with your words.

You know that I like to be told what to do. Though you're not here to supervise my actions, I do as I'm told. You're beautiful when you're domineering.

Teasing me with your words and commands, you lead me into ecstasy. God, your voice turns me on. Every syllable that escapes from your mouth makes me so very hot.

I call you daddy. You love being my dirty daddy, don't you? Just one word, that word, turns you on. I have my own kind of control over you.

We moan into one another's ear. You want me to be louder and louder. Pretty soon, you don't even need to coax me. I feel like screaming couldn't even express the electricity flowing through my body.

You are so close.

I'm almost there.

I need my release. Oh God, yes. Let me have it!

Unable to hold on any longer, we cum together.

Baby, your words are beautiful.

2003-10-13T23:51:00.000-04:00

You think that I'm a:

- slut

- whore

- sex toy

- cock sucker

- daddy's little girl

You see me as the best fuck you've ever had. I think you want to capture the love that you know I'm capable of. So many times I've heard you say that "There's no one like you," or "You're so passionate."

When you smile at me, you remind me of how happy I make you. When you stare into my eyes, I know that you love me, that you care for me, and that you'll fight for me.

All of my dimensions -- good and bad, kinky or up tight -- make you want me. The urgency in your touch, the roughness in your thrusts, and the deepness in your kisses keep me coming back.

They don't know about that side of me, the side that you're on, I mean. They don't even know about you. To them, I'm the shy girl, the quiet, creative one. I'm still a virgin in their eyes. They think that I'm innocent.

Who am I? Which describes me best: sinner or saint? Am I really a slut, or just a teenaged girl with a healthy sex drive? What am I considered more: beautiful or ugly? Should I tell them about you or keep you my little secret?

This is only a beginning. The end has yet to be decided. Neither really matter, though. It's what makes up the middle -- the stuff between the beginning and the end -- that really count.

2003-10-13T23:20:00.000-04:00

Most of the time that I’m on my period I choose not to masturbate or have vaginal sex, since I find those situations particularly messy. There are times when I get uncontrollably horny though, which have led me to do things I wouldn’t ordinarily do.

One such incident happened this past June. Brandon and I had been fooling around one afternoon at his house. We’d began by kissing, steadily making out for about twenty minutes, but were interrupted by a knock at his front door. Mike, Brandon’s best friend, had come by to hang out, unknowing of my presence. Though I was a bit put off by the intrusion, I tried to act natural when all I really wanted to do was pop Brandon’s cock into my mouth. A few minutes where spent with the three of us sitting on the couch, channel surfing through dozens of uninteresting television programs. Not being able to hold back, I turned to Mike and quickly asked if he’d mind it if I sucked Brandon off.

Caught off guard, Mike hung his mouth open and shook his head no, since the word failed to roll off of his tongue. Getting between Brandon’s legs, I worked his pants and boxers down far enough to expose his magnificent cock. First licking every angle of his penis, I got it nice and wet, then enclosed it with my mouth. Neither Brandon nor Mike took their eyes off of my face, which bobbed up and down Brandon’s penis. With my left hand holding the base of his cock, I kneaded Brandon’s balls with my right fingers. Not long into my blowjob session, I was surprised to hear Brandon moan for me to stop.

“You’ve been a bad girl,” he said with a bit of an evil grin. I told him that I was aware of that, but it would be difficult for him to punish me since I was on my period.

He replied with, “Don’t tell me that you think that’s going to stop me.”

Almost forgetting that Mike was still in the room with us, watching all the sights, which were laid before his eyes, Brandon pulled me to my feet, and began kissing my lips in between tugging my t-shirt and bra off. Moving down to my bare breasts, he attacked my right nipple with his tongue and my left nipple with his fingers. The sensation of being sucked and pinched at the same time sent waves of tingles from my breasts to my vagina. Brandon kissed, licked, sucked, and teased me from my stomach to my face, completely turning me on.

“Now let me pull this skirt down and pull off those panties,” Brandon cooed as he finished unveiling my body.

“Damn girl! You look even better without clothes,” I heard Mike exclaim, which made me realize that Brandon and I were not alone. After slightly examining him, I noticed that Mike’s groin looked as if it could bust the zipper of his pants.

“If you want some of this, you better get undressed baby,” I replied, giving him a mischievous smile.

Only seconds after Mike removed all of his clothing, I felt Brandon take me by the hips and command me to bend down. “Put your face between Mike’s legs and stick your ass out to me,” he said.

Being the good girl that I am, I was lavishly rewarded with a few drops of KY Jelly to my asshole, with Brandon’s fingers working it in.

“Now, I want you to do as I tell you, otherwise you won’t get a fat cock in that tight little ass of yours,” said Brandon as he continued to finger my ass. “I want you to give Mike the kind of head that you were giving me while I fuck you. Don’t stop sucking for anything, even if you need to scream in pleasure.”

Doing as I was told, I licked my lips and turned my attention to Mike’s (about) seven-inch dick. Smiling, Brandon removed his two fingers from my ass, quickly replacing them with the head of his penis. Without giving me much time, he pushed his cock all the way up my ass until I could feel his balls against my ass cheeks.

Mike’s cock, which he thrusted in and out of my mouth, muffled any sounds that I made. Mike kept repeating the phrases “Suck it harder you slut!” and “Oh yeah! Take it like a whore!” It is only when I’m very turned on and caught up in moments of ecstasy do I allow anyone (including myself) to use such words as ‘slut’ and ‘whore’ to describe myself. Somehow, those words (and the similar) turn me on even more; I think that it’s because they are a very good indication of how turned on my partner is.

Brandon pounded my ass harder and faster with each thrust, while rubbing my clit at the same time. I began to feel as if I was close to cumming, and I knew that neither Mike nor Brandon could hold out much longer.

“Stop, stop,” Mike moaned, freeing my mouth of his delicious cock. “I want to cum on your tits baby, so you’ve got to stop,” he offered as an explanation. I didn’t have time to reply because I was too busy screaming for Brandon to fuck me harder. Within seconds, I felt the wave of an orgasm overcome me, only to be followed by Brandon, who came in my ass. Even as he came, Brandon continued to pump his dick in and out of me.

Once all of his sperm filled my ass, Mike told Brandon to switch places with him. Brandon took Mike’s seat in front of my face, giving me a good opportunity to lick his cock dry, while Mike bent his face into my ass; he began tongue fucking my butt, while I sucked Brandon’s cum off of his cock. The feelings that came over me as I bathed Brandon’s dick with my tongue and the slurping of Brandon’s sperm from my ass, all made by Mike, made my pussy twitch with anticipation.

“I want you to lay on the couch for me baby,” Mike commanded, “Make sure you’re on your back.” As soon as I was in place, with Brandon sitting in a recliner beside the couch, offering him a full view of Mike’s actions, I looked up to see Mike jerking off.

“I want to cum on those lovely tits of yours,” he said. Because he was so turned on, Mike didn’t take but a couple of minutes before he spewed his load all over my breasts. I rubbed his sperm into my breasts, making my way down to my stomach, where I continued to smear it. Both he and Brandon joined in on the act. Mike, who got down on his knees to lick up some of his cum, turned to me, giving me kiss after kiss while cum was still in his mouth.

Still feeling turned on, I told Mike to crawl over in between Brandon’s legs and give him a blowjob, as his dick was looking very hard. Mike obeyed, quickly taking over Brandon’s cock with his mouth. Within a few minutes, I felt as though Brandon was ready to blow his load, which caused me to tell Mike to stop.

“Move Mike,” I ordered as I strode over to Brandon’s recliner. “Baby, you’re about to be ridden like never before,” I whispered into his ear, as I straddled him. Slipping his hard cock into my pussy, I moaned in pleasure. It was as if Brandon didn’t even notice I was on my period, because he rocked his hips into me as I jiggled up and down his cock. Knowing how I like to be touched, Brandon made sure that he rubbed my tits hard, squeezing them every few seconds. His teeth captured both nipples at separate times, giving me a tingly feeling up and down my spine as I continued to ride him.

Within minutes, I moaned that I felt as if I was going to cum. Brandon told kept repeating, “Cum for me. Cum for me baby.” At almost the same time, Brandon and I released our orgasms, which shook both of our bodies.

2003-10-11T15:16:00.000-04:00

There are several reasons why I'm at home right now, instead of Florida State University. None of my reasons for dipping on the SAT examination are very good, but I never claimed to commit actions with good reason.

With wet and gloomy weather comes low spirits. I love rainy weather, but today's forecast just isn't putting me in a good mood. I think it's the “Wet Dog” smell that’s making me dislike the rain today. My mood was not improved in any way after I climbed into my Explorer, only to find that it would not start. After walking back into the house, telling my mom that I was taking the truck, I was met with accusations that I left the lights on (which I did not), blew up the motor (please), or fucked it up by trying to show off in front of my friends. I ask only this: Could my mom get any more ignorant?

Once in the Ranger, I slipped in a Jimi Hendrix CD, cranked up the volume, and traveled towards FSU. Even in the early hour of 7 a.m., there are drivers who go extremely slow, obviously afraid of having an accident with air. One such driver turned in front of me on Call Street. The girl driving obviously had no clue as to where she was going, and her fast pace of 15 mph only helped to reinforce that fact. I know that the FSU campus is a little tricky to get around, because there’s dead ends at almost every turn (that is no lie), but must we go 15 mph?

Happily, the Slow Girl turned at Ivy Way (I believe), leaving me with the pleasure of going a bit faster. My joy didn’t last long. Anyone who’s visited FSU’s Strozier Library knows that parking is usually hard to come by. I ran into that problem this morning. The mommies and daddies than drove their kids to the SAT testing site had failed to leave by the time I arrived on the scene. That was really just my luck. I drove around the small little parking area across the street from the library, then made way down Dogwood Way (I didn’t see any dogwoods, either) in search for a park. At all costs, I stay away from parallel parking. Usually. I’d plan to give it a go this morning, if I could find a park. No such luck came my way. I literally spent 30 minutes driving around trying to find a park, but I came up empty handed.

After noticing my clock getting dangerously close to 8 a.m., I made up my mind to go home. I was not in the mood for the SAT. All I wanted was to escape the wrath that is FSU’s slim-to-none parking system. As I escaped the FSU campus (which already had police cars rolling around, thanks to the Miami vs. FSU football game today), I happen to pass by a few interesting looking places. The first was a coffee house named The Java Headz (I think that’s what it is, at least). Not only can you get your coffee there, but they have free web access too. I don’t know why, but I just don’t think coffee and computers go together. The caffeine that one intakes from a cup of java frazzles the nerves, making one jittery and jerky. Once around high tech machinery as a computer, those jerky movements could prove costly, because spilt coffee doesn’t do a computer good. I also discovered that Tallahassee has a vegetarian restaurant. I never even knew those things existed, but that might be because I don’t require vegetarian meals.

Quite a few of Tallahassee’s more interesting businesses mill around the FSU campus, which is the reason why I’m unaware of them. I try to avoid all three college campuses as much as possible. The traffic sucks (as it does in every part of Tallahassee) and there are too many kids that are unfamiliar with the area, causing them to drive like they’ve got a mental handicap.

So, I didn’t take the SAT today, and I don’t plan on taking it again any other time this year. The 24 that I made on the ACT will have to do (unless a better score is recorded from my second try at the test). Now, I must get a bit of rest before I immerse myself in the piles of work that lay in front of me, given with love by my American History, AP Psychology, English, and Administrative Business teachers.

2003-10-10T20:33:00.000-04:00

Life is strange.

Everything that happens to each person seems to happen by chance. You fall down on the sidewalk--there’s a chance you’ll skin your knee and there’s a chance you’ll get up, unharmed. No matter how much you plan, all in hopes that your preparation turns the situation in the direct you want, there’s always that chance that it won’t go your way.

People turn chance into “God’s Will” or “the plan” of some higher being. Why is that? I’m in the opinion that people are weak and tend to need strength and “truth” from someone or something greater than themselves. Some pull comfort from their spiritual guide when they can’t find it in anything else. Others need answers for situations they don’t understand, so they pray, meditate, etc., with the idea that these actions will deliver answers from above.

In reality, the only deliverance any one person can experience comes from within oneself. When looking for answers, we look within. It’s the morals, beliefs, and past experiences that create the solutions we’re hoping to find. God doesn’t give out answers like Halloween Trick-or-Treat candy; if you believe in Him, then you’re probably of the mind that He gives you the tools to find His answer in your heart. To me, and to those who think like myself, God gives you nothing (I’m an atheist, which makes the reasoning for that self-explanatory)--you find your answers by knowing yourself (refer to the third sentence of this paragraph).

“Truth” is open to interpretation. Just as the opinions of people differ from one person to another, truth becomes stretched, strained, and distorted by the ways humans see it. Osama Bin Laden told (tells) his followers that great things will meet them in the afterlife if they fight against the evil American Empire. His followers accepted this as true because Bin Laden cited the Koran, saying that it approved of such activity. He knew that those followers were poor and uneducated. The only education they received came from knowing the Koran and practicing the Muslim religion. If the one thing they know best says that it’s okay to be violent towards another country, then they’ll be gung-ho to be Bin Laden’s agents of terror.

Here in the United States, citizens accept the truth in the form of making opinions for themselves and having the freedom to think and express their beliefs as they see fit (as long as those expressions abide by US laws). Most Americans would say they’re smarter and more aware of worldly views and concerns. They only believe that because it’s what’s been fed to them as the truth.

September 11th, the Iraqi war, and all the news feeds which reported the reactions of people around the globe shattered the American illusion of truth.

Never has there been such American backlash reported on the nightly news and local papers as there’s been since September 11th. Gone are the days that proudly proclaimed how loved Americans were by the people of all nations. Our own ignorance slapped us in the face as we watched people jumping from the World Trade Center and as each tower abided by the laws of gravity and tumbled down to the ground; as Dan Rather recounted the unveiling of real American love, over and over again. Our ignorance, some of it at least, fell as the WTC towers crashed down--all was exposed. The slap Bin Laden delivered stung, and not only from his actions, but also from our lack of knowledge.

As I’ve said, truth is open to interpretation. Some Americans think that we deserved the terrorist attacks, simply because America is full of corruption, greed, and indifference to the needs of the rest of the world’s population. Those people are radicals with a few valid points, but have warped versions of truth. There are Americans who see September 11th as an act of God. I believe those people are weak. They need strength, guidance, and real answers to such a surreal event. Looking for those things in God helps those people, since doing so gives them a shoulder to lean on. And then there are those who are like me--they wonder about 9-11, examine the information that’s been given, and try to develop their own brand of truth.

Chance encounters help the development of truth. Life's experiences mold individual beliefs. Having said that, what would I do if I were able to go back to that day, with the chance to trade the exposed American ignorance for the lives of 9-11 victims?

The complete and honest truth is that I wouldn’t change anything about the situation. It is sad that many people died, but I have to wonder how many of them didn’t deserve death. In reality, once you’ve thought about it, death comes to everyone, so what difference does it make if it’s now, tomorrow, or sixty years from today? Though the victims would’ve had some influence on their families and friends, I cannot see that point of sparing their lives. Before September 11th, I never realized just how offensive others interpret US citizens. Though I knew there were those who hated us, it never sank in how deep their hatred was. Now I know, and that makes a difference. The truth that once was blinded by ignorance was brought out. Never would I trade that truth for the victims lives, as hard as that may be to believe.

Life in itself is a chance. You might make it, succeed and live up to your dreams as we all hope to do. Then again, you might not. How you decide to live your life depends on your morals, which are closely modeled after your personal truths. The ways you look and examine the world, as well as how far you will dig for meaning, depends on everything that you hold true. Like a building, life’s experiences, meaning, and worth, are piled on top of one another, intertwined to create a stable base.

You are the stable base, even through those times of instability. Look toward the truths you know, and those which you’ve yet to discover. Sometimes chance will benefit you, sometimes not. In the end, you just have to compromise with what you get vs. what you want, because you'll find that they're often two very different things.

Life is nothing but chance, whether you take it or remain reserved.

2003-08-08T11:54:00.000-04:00

I should've updated this blog a long time ago. As you can tell, though, I haven't. How very typical of me.

Here's a quick run down of all that has changed:

•I'm not as depressed
•My last serious depressed state was during the Fourth of July weekend
•Tom and I talk more often now
•We've admitted that we like one another
•We've also admitted that, if we lived closer, we'd date
•School starts back on August 18th
•I'm actually looking forward to the new school year
•This will be my last year in high school
•I'm both scared and excited
•I have no money for college, therefore I'm trying to get all the information I can on scholarships and financial aid

I refuse to delete this blog, which means I will have to find a proper use for it. I've already got an online diary and another blog. I keep those two up-to-date, for the most part. I will come up with a reason to keep this one up-to-date, as well.

Perhaps I'll start publishing my writings on here. It would be a very good idea, I think.

2003-07-04T00:33:00.000-04:00

I talked to Tom today. He's always interesting to talk to. He's got a way with words.

I like to hear things from his perspective. Often, he tells me of his interpretation of me. During a phone call a few weeks ago, he told me that I'm a strange mixture of happy and sad. That struck me as a bit odd. I guess it's because no one has ever told me that before.

Tom thinks I'm different. He says that I'm not like any other girl he's ever known. I'm open, caring, and complicated. Like I told him today, I'm eclectic.

Still, he likes me for being different. Anyone that can appreciate my differences is okay by me.

2003-06-30T22:08:00.000-04:00

She was someone that I’ll never be able to replace. She gave me wisdom, humor, independence, and character. I have a strong will because of her. The courage that I find within myself, my sharp tongue, and many happy memories are all thanked to her.

She is no longer with me. It hurts to realize that every time I reach for the phone, intending to tell her something that only she would get a kick out of, she won’t be there at the end of the line. Words will never be formed by my lips or by my hand that can explain all that I hold inside for her. She left much too early and way too soon. I wasn’t ready to let go.

Tears roll down my cheeks whenever I write or speak of her significance in my life. Look now at the watery inkblots, which lie upon this paper. They are proof that I still miss her, that I often feel lost without her, and that I’d give anything to have her back.

She is so much of who I am and who I will become. The love, respect, and other general feelings that I’ve given, and will eventually give, are greatly owed to her. I know who she wanted me to become and I strive to become that person everyday. I only want what would make her proud of me. I was her only grandchild, and she put so much into me.

The moment that we both knew she wasn’t going to make it, is one that I’ll never forget. My mom, uncle R.H., uncle Earl, and myself were crowded into her hospital room. She laid in that hospital bed, so blown up with water and hooked up to so many machines. My uncles were facing the TV set, trying to ignore my silent tears. Mama was asking mema if she wanted anything to drink. I sat in the chair closest to the door, wanting to talk to her so badly, to tell her of everything I’d never said. But, I just sat there, yearning the courage to speak, crying a bit harder with every beat of her heart monitor.

It was hard for her to speak because of the oxygen tubes she was hooked up to. Somehow she found the strength to answer mama, when she asked if mema wanted anything.

“Alisha.”

With that one word, my name, I walked over to her hospital bed. That wasn’t the bed she was supposed to be in! And those awful tubes weren’t supposed to be there! She was in decent health. How could a heart attack take her down like this? She lacked the life that was her trademark; she had no energy, her spirit was broken, and I knew that I’d never hear her laugh again.

I stood by her bed, holding her hand, running my thumb along the areas around her thumb. Her skin was still smooth, but even it lacked the aura that she once possessed.

I cried.

I cried so hard that I was no longer able to see. Everything was blurry. I kept my head down, ashamed of my tears. I was supposed to be strong. She hated tears; she always wanted laughter, but this was no laughing matter.

I finally held my head up and wiped a few tears away. Being able to see fairly well, I looked over at her. She spoke no words, but her expression said what no words could: I will be all right, baby. You will, too. I’m going to leave pretty soon, but I’m ready to go. You know that this isn’t where I’m meant to be. You’ll be fine. I’m proud of you and I’ll always be proud.

It was then my chance to say everything that was welled up inside. I wanted to tell her how much I loved her. I wanted to tell her of my respect for her. I just wanted to say that she made up so much of my everything. But, I didn’t; the look on her face told me that this knowledge was something that she already knew.

I stayed around a few minutes later, but soon had to leave. I had school the next morning. Life was not going to go on hold simply because I wanted it to. I wanted to stay locked in that moment, where I knew mema knew how I felt.

She stayed in this world a few days later. Those days were miserable ones for everyone. We knew she didn’t have long. She’d already decided she was ready to go. I wanted her out of misery, yet I still wanted her around. I felt that I needed her around.

Friday, December 13, 2002, my mema slipped on to something greater than this world that you and I occupy. No longer did she have to suffer.

She lived her life as best as she could; taking each moment for all that it was worth. She gave every emotion she experienced all that she could. Her loved ones knew of her unconditional love; it was the kind of love that will never be replaced or repeated.

My last words to her were, “Goodnight mema. I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t forget that I love you, okay?”

I know that had she been strong enough to talk, she would’ve said, “Alisha, don’t forget that I love you.”

2003-06-30T16:55:00.000-04:00

I got my SAT and ACT scores back today. I did...okay.

SAT

Verbal - 540

Math - 340

I did so badly on the math section because I was lacking a calculator. I woke up late, was rushed to get ready, and then had my mom yelling at me because Christina's dad was in the driveway waiting on me. I just forgot the damn calculator.

ACT

Composite Score - 24

I did much better on the ACT, but I'm planning on taking both over again. I'd like to score at least a 1100 on the SAT and a 28 on the ACT. I'm fairly happy with what I got, though. It was my first time taking either test.

2003-06-29T19:45:00.000-04:00

I'm so bored, as you may or may not can tell. I think that posting my results from taking these quizes is a dead give away that I'm bored.

There's got to be something productive that I can do.

2003-06-29T19:38:00.001-04:00

Blah

2003-06-29T19:38:00.000-04:00

Alisha
from this day forward your redneck name will be:

Becky-Ann
Samson

2003-06-29T19:36:00.000-04:00

2003-06-29T19:32:00.000-04:00

what warning label are you?

Alisha
from this day forward your Wu-Tang Clan name will be:

Sarcastic
Menace

2003-06-29T18:49:00.000-04:00

A friend of mine, Arnie, came up with a homework assignment for me last night. Being the bored mess that I am, I took his homework challenge, which was listed at my Xanga blog. After rereading it, I decided to post my response here as well. I like what I've written, even if it's not very organized or deep. Besides, it makes up for my lack of content, which has recently hit this diary.

* * *

Arnie's Homework
Homework Part 1: How does the trainspotting quote (see your May 14 entry) make you feel. Describe your emotional response as well as you can.

"Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed- interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisure wear and matching luggage. Choose a three piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing sprit- crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing you last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that?" -Trainspotting

Alisha's Response

I am given so many choices for every day that I wake up, alive and breathing. Should I choose the wrong choice (whether it really be wrong or not), I will be criticized. "Alisha, you chose white socks instead of blue? My God, you're throwing your life away!"

But am I really?

Is it so bad to make the wrong choice, to walk around with those dreadful white socks on?

Everything that I've done, am doing, and will eventually do, will lead to one thing and one thing only: death.

Because I know this and because I don't walk through my life blindly, I have to ask myself: Is this what I really want? Do I really want to do what everyone says I should? Do I need to use the same guidelines as my associates to live out a decent life?

That question, the last one, causes me to wonder: These guidelines, what are they supposed to lead me to? I think that they're here to lead me to the wealth my mom has always dreamed of, the job my mema always wanted me to have, and the unhappiness that I collectively dread.

So, should I follow these guidelines, live my life like everyone else, and die at an old age which may leave me unable (or barely able) to care for myself; in an old age which may bring about the money I've always thought I wanted, and the bad hip and twice operated back which leaves me barely able to move? Is that what I really want?

No, it's not.

I want to live my life as I see fit. I just want to live. I don't want to be a slave to a job which will never appreciate me. I don't want to get married or have kids. I don't want to be restrained or restricted. I want to show all of my emotions, not have to control or hide them for the sake of others. I want to be able to use my youth as a time of travel, while I'm still able to walk; a time of learning, while I still have time to put my knowledge to use; to not be like the people that I'm surrounded by, whose most intelligent question is "Did you watch Popstars last night?"

I want to chose to live how I want, which might not fit into the guidelines most other people use. I want to chose an early death (say...sixty-ish), instead of hanging around, trapped by once-functioning body parts.

And that, my friend, is what I think and feel whenever I read or hear the above quote.

2003-06-26T19:26:00.000-04:00

I should probably note that I just flipped to the back of the book and read the last parts. I always like to know what the ending is like before I get too deep into a book. I'm just weird like that, I guess.

2003-06-26T18:52:00.000-04:00

This afternoon, with a lot of time on my hands and nothing to keep them occupied with, I decided to begin reading the 5th Harry Potter book. Yes, I have had the book since the night it came out, but I hadn't opened it up to take a good look until last night.

You see, I was unable to sleep, so I began reading the book last night. This afternoon, I decided to pick up where I left off.

To make a long story short, I know who dies. I don't know how he dies, but I know who it is -- and I'm pissed. J.K. Rrowling could've killed off someone else -- someone who wasn't as cool as he was.

When I become an author one day (stop laughing -- you never can tell!), I'm going to kill off only the stupid, more annoying characters. No one likes annoying people anyway.

2003-06-26T18:47:00.000-04:00

For those of you without blogs here at Blogger.com, you will not know that the posting area has changed. I like the way it is set up now, though. It's much easier to use. But, now on to my post...

I cannot believe I'm hiding out on the Internet. It seems as if every time I log onto AOL, there's someone wanting to IM me. Most of the time, I don't feel like chatting, and if I do, I want to chat through my Yahoo Messenger. I dislike AOL with a passion.

To escape being seen logged onto AOL, I made up a new screen name. I'm keeping this one to myself. Sometimes, even if I'm only on the Internet, I just need a little solitude. I hope that this new screen name will provide a bit of what I'm looking for. Besides, I really hate the beeping noise that my computer makes whenever someone sends me an IM. That kind of thing could contribute to an early nervous breakdown on my part.

Signing onto my Yahoo Messenger is about as bad as AOL. The only exception is that I can be logged on and be invisible. At least when I'm invisible I'm still able to chat with the friends I feel like talking to.

Which brings me to my next point -- have you ever noticed that the person you want to talk to is never logged on when you want to talk to them? Usually, when this is the case, people whom you do not care for are the only ones signed on -- and they always decide to chat with you at that particular moment.

I think this is one of life's little fuck ups. Life likes to laugh at those who have to (more or less) live it.

This is why I fully support giving life the finger. The only down side to partaking in this event is that life's finger is always much bigger, and somehow manages to make shooting a bird seem much more offensive than it actually is.

2003-06-24T16:22:00.000-04:00

Many things have happened since I last posted. I'm now one year closer to being legal, since I turned 17 on June the 20th. I've experienced something that was once real, but now is a mere memory. If that doesn't make sense, then you are on your toes. Sometimes I feel I should be a bit cryptic, since I feel cryptic at times.

Dwelling on the past is of no use to me. Often, I find that I cannot move past a particular event; it just plays over and over again in my mind. I'm very tired of all the replay action.

It is time that I change some things about myself. I don't like who I've become. There's not much in the actual life I lead that is to be envious of. Changing, for the better, is what I need to work on.

My soul, it seems, is crying for change. For a very long time, it has been crying; I, however, have ignored it. Now look at who I've become

Change will be good. Anything other that what I am will be good.

2003-06-14T01:11:00.000-04:00

Believe it or not, but I'm still alive. I take the breath flowing to and from my nose as a good sign of this.

I'm not going to write anything very long or profound. I just felt that I should update this thing before I went to bed. I'm actually trying to get to sleep before 3 a.m. I thought I'd switch it up a little.
Of course, there is another reason I'm trying to get a bit of sleep in. I take the ACT tomorrow and I've been told that having sleep helps concentration. I took the SAT with 3 and a half hours of sleep, but I wasn't sleepy at all. When I've got to focus on something, I put everything I've got into it. I've been lectured tonight that my nonchalant attitude toward my future is bad for me, that I need to shape up, and think positively. I positively think that my negative outlook gives me the ability to see through the fakeness that is presented by most things. I could be wrong. It's happened before.

I got my report card earlier this week. I passed everything. Sampson let me slide through Algebra II with a D. I'm going to have to remember to thank him for that one.

2003-06-09T01:05:00.000-04:00

I hate when gay people from Tallahassee take a fancy to my Yahoo profile. They always decide to IM me, breaking whatever kind of concentration I had going on. I should be thrilled that some football guy from Lincoln thought my picture was "hott" and decided to IM me. Instead, I find his instant message to be humorous. I suppose he wanted me to kill a few brain cells by inviting me to view his picture. I'm sorry, but I find him to have a gay looking picture.

fsu33frat: you like

not_for_free_03: it's nice

fsu33frat: cool

fsu33frat: hello

not_for_free_03: I'm here

fsu33frat: you just stopped takling

not_for_free_03: I didn't have anything to say

fsu33frat: well it was nice meeting you

not_for_free_03: sure was

fsu33frat: your just not very talkative

not_for_free_03: lol...I am, when I find something to talk about.

fsu33frat: oh

not_for_free_03: Your picture didn't quite whip me into a verbal frenzy.

fsu33frat: guess i am not good looking enough for ya

not_for_free_03: It's not that

not_for_free_03: lol

fsu33frat: i see

not_for_free_03: It's just that I find the stuff that's behind the looks, meaning the personality/beliefs/views more interesting.

fsu33frat: i see

fsu33frat: well ask me anyting and you will get to know me

not_for_free_03: I don't have anything to ask. I find it hard to start asking aimless questions.

fsu33frat: indded

fsu33frat: indeed

not_for_free_03: This is going no where fast.

not_for_free_03: lol

fsu33frat: i know

not_for_free_03: What do you like to do?

fsu33frat: love sports .........beach......poetry......dancing.......partying......clubbing......

not_for_free_03: The only thing you listed that I like is poetry.

not_for_free_03: lol

fsu33frat: good

fsu33frat: what do you like to do

fsu33frat: well you silence speaks volumes

fsu33frat: bye

not_for_free_03: I like to write, be sarcastic, hang out with the three friends that I can stand (although, I do have more than 3 friends...I just can't stand them all...), sleep (even if I am insomniac)

not_for_free_03: lol...bye

fsu33frat: maybe when you learn to speak we can talk agian

not_for_free_03: I wasn't at my computer, which is why I didn't reply earlier.

fsu33frat: wonderful excuse

not_for_free_03: That it is

fsu33frat: yeppers

not_for_free_03: I will attempt to ask another question...

not_for_free_03: What do you like about school? It can't get any more gay than that.

fsu33frat: i like getting tested. i like seeing how much better i can possibly do. I also like just hanging out

not_for_free_03: You like being tested? That's the first time I've ever heard such a thing.

fsu33frat: because most people are stupid

not_for_free_03: I agree

fsu33frat: and dont want to see how good they can do

not_for_free_03: I like to see how well I can do, but I don't like to be tested.

fsu33frat: i guess it has to do with sports

not_for_free_03: I was thinking the same thing

fsu33frat: i am number 3 in my class

not_for_free_03: I'm a rank in my class. I'm not aware of the number I hold in rank, and don't really care. In other words: I'm too scared to find out how poorly I've done. lol

fsu33frat: i see

not_for_free_03: I'm glad that you do

fsu33frat: Well as long get to play wide receiver at Florida State, I am good

not_for_free_03: If you are being offered a place to play football at big schools, why choose FSU?

fsu33frat: They have been my favorite forever.

fsu33frat: i love bobby Bowden

fsu33frat: and they are one of the best programs around

fsu33frat: UF, Tenn, Texas are some of the others going after me

not_for_free_03: Same here. FSU is the only team I can stand to watch play football. That's only if I think they're going to win. If I feel that they will lose, I don't waste my time.

fsu33frat: They have already offerd me a ship, so after the summer I will probably commit to them

not_for_free_03: That's good for you

fsu33frat: I hate floirda with a passion

fsu33frat: yep

not_for_free_03: Florida is a good school, though.

not_for_free_03: Academically, it's far better than FSU.

I have a feeling you just lost more brain cells than you could spare just by reading our conversation. At least I attempted to conversate. Sometimes I don't even try, because it seems pretty pointless. This was one of those times. But, I tried. Next time remind me to fuck trying.

2003-06-06T21:41:00.000-04:00
It is so gloomy outside. For the past two or three days it has done nothing but rain, rain, and rain some more. What's in the forecast for the next five days? Rain! I think that the Head Weather Man, whom ever that may be, should try squeezing in a bit of sunshine. There's nothing wrong with switching it up a bit.
Besides the mass amount of water works, nothing much has happened in the past two days. The only eventful thing that occurred Thursday was Christina's phone call to my house at 9 p.m. It's very strange to get a call from her because, like myself, she doesn't like to talk on the phone. The first two times she called she got no answer, but that was because no one was home. When my mom and I got home, I checked the caller ID and proceeded to phone Christina back. She didn't pick up, though. Two seconds after I hung the phone up, it began ringing. Christina had called me back. Our phone conversation went something like this:
A: Hey.
C: Did you just call here?
A: Yeah.
C: I didn't pick up because I thought you were someone else.
A: Oh. Who did you think I was?
C: Well, you know those family members I told you about?
A: Yeah...
C: They're outside.
A: Any you're inside, on the phone, whispering to me.
C: Right. They called a few minutes ago, and I picked up the phone by mistake. They know I'm in here.
A: Your parents not there?
C: No. They went to pick up my sister. My family members are out in their car, with the lights on.
A: The bright lights?
C: Yep. I can see them on the wall. They've already been to every corner of the house, beating on it, yelling "We know you're in there!"
A: And you're still not letting them in?
C: No. I don't feel like company.
A: They have to wait until your parents get back before they can come in?
C: That's the idea.
A: And where are you, exactly?
C: I'm lying flat on the floor. I had to get a blanket because it's cold down here.
A: What's your mom gonna say about you not letting her people into the house?
C: Who knows? I'm just gonna tell her I didn't feel like company.
A: Because you're depressed?
C: Right, because I'm depressed.
A: Wonderful.
C: All of this light kind of reminds me of an alien abduction.
A: Perhaps Jesus showed them how to make Holy Light. They could be trying to save you.
C: I'd like the alien abduction better.
C: You need to come save me.
A: What am I going to do? Drive up to your house, say "Excuse me black people, but I'm rescuing your niece/cousin because she just can't handle company right now," and then watch you make a run for my car?
C: That's the general idea.
A: And then what are you going to do? Stay the night here?
C: Or wait until they leave, so that I can return home.
A: (insert laughter)
C: I think my parents are back. I hear a lot of noise outside.
:: Insert a lot of talking in the background -- most of which involves "Christina, why didn't you let them in?" ::
A: So, how's that company?
C: They want me to get off the phone.
A: But you're not going to.
C: Nope.
A: Jesus wouldn't like that.
C: Alisha, in 15, 30 minutes, call me back. After you do that shower, call me back!
A: Will do.
C: Call me!
:: As I hung up the phone, I heard Tasha, Christina's sister, yelling, "Yeah, and we'll come stay the night!" ::
I always enjoy talking to Christina about her family.
As of right now, I feel very paranoid. My mom is sitting in the recliner that is directly behind me. I hate it when she does that.
I don't know what I'm going to do when it comes time for me to have my sleep evaluated. I went to a new doctor, one that specializes in sleep disorders, today. He wants to have my sleep studied, just so that sleep apnea can be ruled out as a problem of mine. Both my mom and I doubt that I have it, but he wants to make sure. *This is just a note, but I really hate having her sit behind me. I don't know why she's in here, but she has my permission to leave.*
Tuesday I have to report to the sleep clinic for preregistration. I will find out what night I will have my sleep studied. The paper that the nurse gave me said that I will have wires hooked up to my head so that my brain waves can be recorded. I will also have belts across my chest and legs to measure my movement. I find this a bit contradictory, because how can I move if I have a belt restricting my movement? There will be a video camera recording my sleeping activity. That's the part that has me paranoid. I hate to be watched.
So, basically, these are the most interesting things that have happened since I last posted. With that said, I think I should note that I feel like a loser. We can't all have exciting lives, I suppose. People like myself must exist so that things can balance out.
I don't think I like being a balancer. I'd rather be the one who needs balancing. Although, there are those who believe that I need serious balancing out. They usually mean that in a special way.

2003-06-04T12:45:00.000-04:00

I'm experiencing something that is not so new. It's called "energy." It seems that this thing, this "energy," gives one the motivation to do things. So far it's helped me clean the bathrooms, start on the house, and feel a certain sense of accomplishment for doing these things.

Of course, I get this "energy" quite often, but I usually have trouble funneling it into something positive. Usually, I feel jittery, like all of my muscles, veins, and bones are gonna burst out of my fingers and toes. I haven't been able to stay still. I couldn't stand myself, my energy was getting on my nerves so bad. Sitting still on my bed was driving me crazy. So, I began to clean. At least it got my mind focused on something else.

Having said all of that, I'm beginning to get on my own nerves for just sitting here and typing. I've still got to sweep and mop the house, dust the furniture, and all of that.

My mom asked me if something was wrong, if I was feeling okay. She's not use to me being so energetic. I have a tendency to clean whenever I'm upset, so I guess that's why she asked. I thought it was funny, though. I can't even clean the house without my mom wondering what is wrong with me.

Now, let me continue with my cleaning. I've got to get it done, because it keeps me from focusing on how I get on my own nerves.

2003-06-03T20:03:00.000-04:00

I went to Sam's today. I know that sounds insignificant, but it's not. I got out of the house for the first time since Friday afternoon. See? That makes it important.

I'm gonna go see if Diaryland will let me post now, since I really want to post there. I'm not sure why, but I like Diaryland a bit more than Blogger.

2003-06-03T01:32:00.000-04:00

I thought that this was pretty cute:

2003-06-02T21:17:00.000-04:00

I don't feel like rewriting anything, so I'm just gonna copy the entry from my other diary.

About 7:45 p.m., a guy that lives across the street, Mark, called my house. He asked for my mom, but I told him that she wasn't here. He then asked me for Bud's last name. I told him. He told me not to come over and that the police would be here soon.

I found the call very odd. My mom owns a trailer across the street from our house. She rents it out so that we can have a little extra cash for bills and such. For the past year, Bud has been renting from her. He was about 54 or 55, skinny, very tanned from working outdoors. He's been having financial problems because he's had issues finding a job. My mom liked Bud, she thought he was a nice guy. She even had him do some work on our house, because she wants to eventually sell it.

About 8 p.m., my mom drove up. I was going to meet her outside to tell her about the call, but she backed out of the driveway and drove over to the trailer. Shortie was barking like crazy, so I put him on his leash and walked outside. As I came around the driveway, I noticed all of the policemen and neighbor's that were over at Bud's place. I saw that my mom was talking to the police, but I decided to wait until she came home to find out what was going on.

About 8:20 p.m., my mom came back to the house. Before I got the door open for her, she blurted out "Bud killed himself!" I said, "What?" She proceeded to tell me that he hung himself in the garage. I could not believe it. I mean, he had been over at our house on Friday afternoon. He brought the rent check by. My mom and him had a nice little chat, and all seemed fine.

It seems all was not fine.

I had a feeling that Bud was dead whenever Marked called. I know that sounds strange, but I have a tendency to know when someone is dead. It's a morbid gift, I suppose.

Friday afternoon, Bud told my mom that he was tired. She told him that he should go home and take a nap. As I remarked to Christina, whom I called right after I found out, it would seem that a nap just didn't cure that tiredness.

After my mom got home, she just went into her "Someone Just Died" mode. She began sweeping the floor and remarking about how she just talked to Bud; all he said was that he was tired, and that as soon as everything is out of trailer, she's selling it. For some reason, she mentioned that Bud's coworker, who is the one that found him, said Bud's AC hasn't been working. I'm not sure what that had to do with Bud's hanging, though. My mom was going on about how she just had the AC guy look at that air conditioner on Friday and that if it wasn't working right, Bud should've told her. I will assume that Bud had other things on his mind, that the condition of the AC just didn't stand out in his brain on Friday. I told my mom that "I doubt the air conditioner had anything to do with Bud's suicide." That's the only reassurance that I could come up with.

2003-06-02T18:21:00.000-04:00

I'm really tired of being badgered about not getting out of the house. My mom thinks it would do me some good to get out, maybe go to the book store or library, just go out and do something. She doesn't get that I have not one inkling to leave the house. I've got everything that I need, with the exceptions of Venus razor blades and AA batteries. I would go to Wal-Mart to pick up these much needed items, and I will. For now, though, I'm just fine with shaving my legs with a dull razor and brushing my teeth without it doing it's electric spinning trick.

I will probably leave the house tomorrow. I've been here since I came home from school Friday, and I guess that leaving for an hour or two would be okay. I'll probably get out just to get mama off of my back. Besides, it would make her happy.

2003-06-01T22:08:00.000-04:00

I've been feeling depressed all day. There's been absolutely no relief. That is, until about five minutes ago.

I was tired of laying in bed, hiding from the boogie monsters in my head (who do not care whether one is lying in bed or walking through the crowded streets of New York, because they'll attack at any time), when I decided to turn my computer on. Once I logged onto AOL, I went straight to diaryland.com to add a new entry. I just expressed that I've been feeling depressed today, nothing else.

For some reason, and I don't know what reason that is, I felt better after posting it. I'm still depressed, but I feel slightly better.

2003-05-31T16:17:00.000-04:00

I'm still tired. I'm also craving my medication, which I think I'm gonna go pop right now.

2003-05-31T13:22:00.000-04:00

I'm tired. I'm always tired. I slept at least 9 hours, yet I still feel sleepiness behind my eyes. I don't feel very energized. Perhaps I should take a nap.

2003-05-30T19:13:00.000-04:00

My junior year of high school is officially over. I now get to look forward to a pathetic GPA, which is unlikely to score me any scholarships; a lot of scholarship hunting; college applications; senior fee's; and a remedial math class at TCC, which will take up 6 weeks of my summer. Luckily, the class will only take the hours of 8 a.m. thru 11:15 a.m. Sadly, those are usually the best hours to sleep. Do not be surprised to find that I'm running on 24 hour highs, as I seem to do that more than one should. I do it more so in the summer time, since I have very little demanding my time.

I'm being to think that I've become more pessimistic in the last 5 hours of my life than I've ever been before. It's finally dawning on me that I'm going to have to take charge of my financial responsibilities if I wish to attend college. Of course, there is no wishing to it; I must go to college and take a full load of courses if I plan on staying on my mom's insurance coverage. I cannot be taken off of her insurance, because I have no other way to afford my medications or doctor visits. More than a higher education is riding on my getting into, and affording to go to, college.

The more that I think about it, the more I find suicide a comforting thought. If all does not go well, there is always a way to end what could become disastrous. I know that isn't what I should be thinking, but that doesn't stop my brain from thinking about it. It just makes me wonder whether I would go through with suicide or not. Would I right now? I am feeling depressed (as I always am), and I won't deny that suicide is a comforting thought (as it should not be), but I doubt that I would do it. This decision could always change, though. If this were a day in which my feelings were a tad bit worse (and I do mean a tad bit, as I am very low in spirits today), I have a feeling that would be Pro-Suicide enough to actually do it.

However, I don't want to alarm anyone with my further suicide ramblings. I am not at the risk of taking my life right now, so do not worry. I will continue to breath for another day, and will be back later to remark how foolish I was to post such ridiculous thoughts. Until then, keep all firearms and sharp objects away from yourself. I may have a low risk of suicidal tendencies right now, but that doesn't mean that the same goes for yourself...

2003-05-30T18:18:00.000-04:00

Isn't this special?

Which Firearm are you?
brought to you byStan Ryker

2003-05-29T19:02:00.000-04:00

I have no confirmation, but I know that I passed the two exams that I took today. The English III Honors exam was very easy. The questions on the exam were basically the same questions in our study packet. The American History Honors exam had me stressed. I studied for it, though, and I think I made a decent grade. Let's hope that this is true.

I think Chris, the guy that was painting our doors, went back to Ohio. I didn't know him and barely said anything to him, but he was very nice to look at. I will miss staring at his tatoo's while he wasn't looking. God, that sounds pathetic, doesn't it? Oh well! I've known about my patheticness for a long time, so I'm not surprised in the least.

Our new air conditioner hasn't been hooked up yet. I'm beginning to think that it's quite possible to drown in one's own sweat. I'll keep you updated on whether this is true or not.

2003-05-28T11:14:00.000-04:00

The first day of exams is over! Well, we have about 48 minutes until we're let out of school, but let's not get technical. I took my second and third period exams today; both exams being very easy.

Our air conditioner at home is being worked on today, so I get to look forward to a hot and sweaty afternoon. That is, if we stay home. I might have to follow my mom to Perry. She wants to take the Bronco down there, because my uncle Johnny thinks he can sell it for her. She wants to get rid of it. The money that she gets from the sell will go toward paying my truck off. How sad is it that it's my truck, yet I never drive it? I perfer the Explorer. The main reason for this is because it's got the room to pile stuff, like my friends, in. My truck has enough room for two fat people and one skinny person in the middle. That is to say, Tiffany, Christina, and I can ride in the truck with as much comfort as being slightly squished can give.

I do believe that I'm going to update my Xanga Site, which will hopefully take up the remaining 40 minutes. Then, the bell will ring, I will take Felisha, Tiffany, Christina and Tasha, and then myself home. Once there, I'll pop a few pills, eat something, and find out what the rest of my afternoon will involve. Somewhere in there, I need to sqeeze studying for my English and American History exams. Let's hope that I do well on those exams!

2003-05-27T21:43:00.000-04:00

My desk is now super glossy, my computer is connected again, and I'm back on the internet.

I don't have anything to say. Well, I do, but I don't feel like sharing right now. I'll update later on, once I'm in the mood to write. Until then, I'll study for my exams, which start tomorrow. We get out of school at 11:50 for these last three days, which is good, because I'm tired of being confined to that place!

2003-05-25T14:19:00.000-04:00

In More, Now, Again, Elizabeth Wurtzel wrote, "I keep thinking that it will be nice to see my mother...when I am straight. And then I remember that I feel trapped in the car with my mother when I don't have any Ritalin to so, that I always have to load up on it when I know she will be coming to pick me up to go food shopping or visit my cousins or whatever. My mother makes me feel suffocated. She always has...I miss her desperately when I have not seen her for a while, and then, as soon as she is anywhere near me, I feel like I am choking...She demands this, she wants to know that, I am her only child, she has never remarriend and she smothers me with her love and need...I am the person that my mother is closest with in the world -- and vice versa, I sometimes think -- and she does not know me, or what to know me, at all."

I can relate to everything that I just quoted. I love my mom, I really do, but I can't stand to be around her. Sometimes it's okay, and we get along great, but then there are these times when I feel like I could kill her. My only purpose for wanting to murder her would be to just have a little time to myself. My mom doesn't have any friends that she can get together with on the weekends...

I'll have to finish later. I've got to disconnect my computer so my mom can restain my desk. It might be a couple of days before I hook my computer up, so just check back in a couple of days.

2003-05-23T23:08:00.000-04:00

I'm really tired and don't feel like typing, so I'm going to post some of my favorite lyrics.

Elton John - Dirty Little Girl

I've seen a lot of women who haven't had much luck

I've seen you looking like you've been run down by a truck

That ain't nice to say sometimes I guess I'm really hard

But I'm gonna put buckshots in your pants if you step into my yard

When I watch the police come by and move you on

Well I sometimes wonder what's beneath the mess you've become

Well you may have been a pioneer in the trade of women's wear

But all you got was a mop up job washing other people's stairs

I'm gonna tell the world, you're a dirty little girl

Someone grab that bitch by the ears

Rub her down scrub her back

And turn her inside out

`Cause I bet she hasn't had a bath in years

Here's my own belief about all the dirty girls

That you have to clean the oyster to find the pearl

And like rags that belong to you I belong to myself

So don't show up around here till your social worker's helped

Elton John - Tiny Dancer

Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band

Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man

Ballerina, you must have seen her dancing in the sand

And now she's in mine, always with me, tiny dancer in my hand

Jesus freaks out in the street

Handing tickets out for God

Turning back she just laughs

The boulevard is not that bad

Piano man he makes his stand

In the auditorium

Looking on she sings the songs

The words she knows the tune she hums

But oh how it feels so real

Lying here with no one near

Only you and you can hear me

When I say softly slowly

Hold me closer tiny dancer

Count the headlights on the highway

Lay me down in sheets of linen

you had a busy day today

Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band

Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man

Ballerina, you must have seen her dancing in the sand

And now she's in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my hand

Bad Religion - I Love My Computer

I love my computer, you make me feel alright

Every waking hour and every lonely night

I love my computer for all you give to me

Predictable errors and no identity

And it's never been quite so easy

I've never been quite so happy

All I need to do is click on you

And we'll be joined in the most soul-less way

And we'll never ever ruin each other's day

'Cuz when I'm through I just click

And you just go away

I love my computer, you're always in the mood

I get turned on when I turn on you

I love my computer, you never ask for more

You can be a princess or you can be my whore

And it's never been quite so easy

I've never been quite so happy

The world outside is so big but it's safe in my domain

Because to you I'm just a number and a clever screen name

All I need to do is click on you

And we'll be together for eternity

And no one is ever gonna take my love from me

Because I've got security

Her password and a key

Bad Religion - Anxiety

It's a love song to the self, a story recapped every day,

It's a world of bogus feelings and a world of slow decay,

It's a world of laughter hidden by this world of fear and torment,

It's a game of strange compulsion, our visceral convulsion:

Anxiety for love of life, anxiety for pain,

Anxiety, a feeling that you know you can't contain.

Anxiety destroys us but it drives the common man.

Foundation of society, anxiety. Suppress it if you can.

The caste of coffee achievers didn't perform like they planned.

The morning rush hour traffic is our play of false elan.

So run around your frantic track and lay you down to sleep;

Tomorrow's the redemption, we strive for that exception.

Anxiety for love of life, anxiety for pain,

Anxiety, a fear that you have nothing more to gain.

Anxiety destroys us but it drives the common man.

Foundation of society, anxiety. Suppress it if you can.

What are we angry for?

We all need a common cure.

That common goal for which you strive:

To have more than the other (have more than the other) guy.

The quest for truth, the quest for gold, yeah, we end up all the same

The common lie, the righteous cry, we end up all the same.

The angry crowd, those lost and found, everybody's all the same.

The poet's pen, these words I lend, we all bend to

Anxiety for love of life, anxiety for pain,

Anxiety, a feeling that you know you can't contain.

Anxiety destroys us but it drives the common man.

Foundation of society, anxiety.

Bad Religion - Fuck Armageddon, This Is Hell

There's people out there that say I'm no good,

'Cause I don't believe the things that I should,

And when the final conflict comes, I'll be so sorry I did wrong,

And hope and pray that our lord god will think I'm good.

Countries manufacture bombs and guns

To kill your brother for something that he hasn't even done.

Smog is ruining my lungs, but they aren't sorry they've done wrong,

They hide behind their lies that they're helping everyone.

In the end the good will go to heaven up above,

The bad will perish in the depths of hell.

How can hell be any worse when life alone is such a curse?

Fuck Armageddon, this is hell (x3)

We're living in the denoument of the battle's gripping awe,

So what's the use of being good to satisfy them all?

How could hell be any worse? Life alone is such a curse!

Fuck Armageddon, this is hell (x5)

Bad Religion - Positive Aspects of Negative Thinking

Let's gather 'round the carcass of the old deflated beast,

We have seen it through the accolades and rested in its lea,

Syntactic is our elegance, incisive our disease,

The swath endogenous of ourselves will be our quandary,

We've nestled in its hollow and we've suckled at its breast,

Grandiloquent in attitude, impassioned yet inept,

Frivolous gavel our design, ludicrous our threat,

Excursive expeditons leave us holding less and less,

So what does it mean?

When we tell ourselves it's only for a while we've been deceived

And it's only for a moment that the treasures of our day

Make life easier to complicate, the treasure thrown away,

I'm so tired of all the fucked up minds

Of all the terrorist religions and their bullshit lines,

Of all the hand-me-downs from all industrial crimes

All the weeping mothers and those who are led so blind,

From the plastic protests and the hands of time

And the pursuit of mirth and all hating kind

Bad Religion - Sanity

There's a watch in my pocket and its hands are broken.

The face is blank but the gears are turning.

Confusion is a fundamental state of mind.

It doesn't really matter what I'm figuring out.

I'm guaranteed to wind up in a state of doubt

And sanity is a full-time job

In a world that is always changing,

And sanity is a state of mind

That you believe in, sanity.

There's a shadow on the wall where the paint is peeling.

My body's moving forward but my mind is reeling.

Depression is a fundamental state of mind.

It doesn't really matter how my day has turned out.

I always end up living in this world of doubt

And sanity is a full-time job

In a world that is always changing,

And sanity will make you strong

If you believe in sanity.

And sanity is a full-time job

In a world that is always changing,

And sanity is a state of mind

That you believe in, sanity.

Goodnight all and have sweet pessimistic dreams!

2003-05-22T10:18:00.000-04:00
I have the urge to design possible templates for the yearbook next year. We're already thinking about what we could do. Sadly, I can't work on the templates because this computer doesn't have Paint Shop Pro 7. That's what I've been using at home to work on them. Oh well.

Now watch me fade back into my head...

2003-05-22T10:09:00.000-04:00
I'm in my third period class right now, being bored out of my mind. We were suppose to turn in our portfolio's, but the printer isn't working, which means we can't print out our work and turn it in. I wish I was at home, asleep in my bed. I'm so tired. I slept late by an hour, but I got here about 5 minutes after the tardy bell rang. Mr. Worrell doesn't mark us late, so I will be okay.

My mom got me an appointment with a therapist. I'm not sure, but my therapist might be the same one Christina has. I know that I'll be going to the same office as her therapist. The two of us have an appointment to see our therapists on June 6, but I'm going to have to get a different time, since I've got an appointment with a doctor about my sleep test at 10 a.m. that day. My mom must not have paid attention to the huge note I left on the calendar. She said that they had a later time on the 6th, so I'll be straight (I guess). My mom seems to be a little unconcerned (in a way) about getting me help. Sometimes she's all for it, but there are other times when she acts like it's inconvient for her. Of course, that could just be me.

I'm gonna go find something to do so that I stay occupied until 10:30. At that time, I will leave this class and make my way to Mrs. Moore's class. Hopefully, she will be there.

2003-05-19T16:22:00.000-04:00
I have a terrible headache today. It didn't start until 7th period, but by the time I got home, it was pounding in my temples so badly. Of course, my mom decided to dust the ceiling and the ceiling fans, so there's dust everywhere. That has help my head so much.

I'm still having problems shaking my "bad mood." I'm not feeling as depressed as I was yesterday, but today hasn't been a picnic by any means.

I need to finish some homework, pop a Darvacet, and lay down.

2003-05-18T11:58:00.000-04:00

I've got a case of nervous energy today. My hands are shaking, I can't keep still, but I can't find anything interesting enough to keep me busy. I tried writing in my journal, but holding my pen still enough to form coherent sentences wasn't happening, so I decided I'd type in my blogs. Sadly, it seems that I can't even type well with my hands malfunctioning.

I feel like I need to do something. I mean, I'm so nervous and have all of this energy, so I feel the need to do something to work it off. I tried taking a walk, but that didn't help. I tried straightening up my room, but I was so indecive of where to place my things that I abandoned the project. I just want to feel calm. I'm never calm, though. I've always got something going on, whether it be body wise or in my head.

And my hands, they are a shaking....

2003-05-17T22:52:00.000-04:00
I'm too tired to write. Here are some results of a few tests I took out of boredom...

avoidant

Which Personality Disorder Do You Have?
brought to you by Quizilla

I'm surprised at the accuracy of this one.

Goddess of the Night. Beautiful yet a strange
darkness and sadness lurk about you.

What element would you rein over? (For Girls)
brought to you by Quizilla

Now really?

You are a CYNICAL VIRGIN.

What Kind of Virgin Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

LOL...how sad is that? The sad part is that it's mostly true. That's kinda depressing. BUT, there's always Tim! And Tim is cool. I like him a lot. =) <---Happy Thoughts

You have been involved in a shameful online RPG,
and your soul will never be clean. You've
soiled the memory of a dead author and
neglected yourself and other human beings for
months at a time; there is no way to make up
for this. The Lord has turned His eyes from you
forever!

Keep back, you utter trash!

Why Will You Go To Hell?
brought to you by Quizilla

LOL! I wanted to go to hell for something cooler!

Black:
PEOPLE SUCK THE WORLD SUCKS EVERYBODY SHOULD BE
KILLED AND BLEED TO DEATH TILL THE COLD EARTH
SOAKS IN BLOOD. Well, you're angry at the
world. For reasons who knows, but you
definately hate life.

What color do you see the world in?
brought to you by Quizilla

But that's only 80% of the time....lol

You come from the Night Sky. You're drawn to the
stars and planets, and it's no wonder why, you
came from them.

Where Did Your Soul Originate?
brought to you by Quizilla

You are Elizabeth Bathory. (The bloodcountess)
Legend tells us that you, this very rich,
beautiful and high born woman tortured and
murdered some 650 young women and bathed in
their warm blood to keep yourself beautiful.
In some stories, it is said you have drank thier
blood as well. You were a sexual sadist on a
grand scale.
Ah vanity is your downfall. For shame!

Which Imfamous criminal are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Well then...

You are burning

What Self-Mutilation Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

That's it for tonight kids. I need to pop some pills and go to bed.

2003-05-17T16:39:00.000-04:00
Leave it to me to forget what my archives address is. However, I figured it out, and the links are now fixed. =)

2003-05-17T16:00:00.000-04:00
More updates!

First of all, I finally got around to adding a link to the archive, as well as changing the format of the archive. It now matches this page.
I also added a Guestbook to the page. Leave me a message in there if you want to. E-mail me if you would like. Either way doesn't matter. I do love to hear from all you people out there!

Last night I got an e-mail from Kelly, which included an invite to check out BookCrossing.com. This site helps people trade books. Kelly described the site like this: "The concept behind the site is that you take a book you've read, register it at the site, put an identifying label on the book, then leave the book in a public place for someone else to find and enjoy." If that sounds interesting, head on over there and check it out. I know that I am!

2003-05-17T00:50:00.000-04:00
Not so long ago, my brain was screaming all kinds of thoughts, as it usually does. One thought in particular captured my attention. Give me therapy or give me death! Could I ask for a more truthful thought? I think not. I've got to get some of these things out of my system. Getting them off of my chest doesn't do any good. I've got to work through them, but I'm not sure how to go about doing so. I need help. Even my mom thinks so. If she can recognize that I have problems, then the whole world must know, because she was blind to them all until about a month ago.

Therapy, man, I need therapy. And maybe a good fuck (heh, my first fuck), but I'll work on the easy stuff first...

2003-05-16T18:24:00.000-04:00
I'm so thankful that I didn't have to change the HTML for this blog all that much. I've spent all afternoon formating I Will Only Complicate You... That diary does look very nice, though.

2003-05-15T23:41:00.000-04:00
I changed the design of this blog because I was tired of looking at the old design. That's it for tonight. I'm tired and need to try out this thing called "sleep." They say it's good for you. I wouldn't know, since I get very little of it. Insomnia kicks ass...my ass, that is...

2003-05-14T18:40:00.000-04:00
Did you think I forgot about this blog? Of course I didn't! I just never got off my lazy ass to write a few new entries. That's so like me. I've been keeping one site up to date on all the stuff that's going on in my life. You can head on over to my Xanga Site to check it all out. I promise I'll try to update this one more often (for anyone who happens to take a look here every now and then...)

-Alisha

2003-04-09T19:03:00.000-04:00
I need to order something for dinner. Since it's me all by my lonesome (heh...that sounds stupid) I'm not even gonna attempt to cook.

The house doesn't seem right without my mom around. It's just me, Zee-Zee, and Shortie. They don't talk back, though, when I talk to them, so it's pretty boring. Most kids would be all happy that their parent(s) were MIA, but I'm a little too close to my mom for that. The last time I had to stay here by myself over night was the entire last week my mema was alive. It's strange that it hasn't even been 4 months yet, because it feels like it's been so long ago.

Blah...I don't want to think about that. I'm already sad enough as it is because this house is so empty.

Well, let me get to ordering that food!

2003-04-07T17:37:00.000-04:00
I'm so tired. I laid down last night about 12 a.m., but I didn't fall asleep until 1:30 or 2. I should've taken my sleeping medication. I hate taking that stuff because I feel as if I'm being forced to go to sleep and I hate being forced into anything. When I told my doctor this (last week) his reply was "Good! I want you to sleep. It's like you think sleep is bad, but you really need it. I told you that you have a sleep debt and we have to work on that." A sleep debt. My encounters with sleep have become so precious that they're in the same category as banking terminology.

The only thing that kept from not passing out in each of my classes was this new book I'm reading, The Quiet Room - A Journy Out Of The Torment of Madness by Lori Schiller and Amanda Bennett. This book is really good, especially if you like reading the memoirs of people suffering or recover(ed)(ing) with mental illness. Schiller, along with family members, friends, and psychologists, tells of her experiences with schizophrenia. I made it to page 90 by 7th period today. If I have something interesting to read, I'm usually able to stay awake. The downside to this is that I usually get in trouble for reading instead of paying attention to what's going on in class.

Speaking of class, I would just like to point out that I did a bad thing today. I cheated on my math quiz. I wasn't at school on Friday, so I had to make up my quiz. There are about 12 people in my Algebra II Honors class and they all know that I'm doing very bad in there and that I usually have no idea how to solve the problems we're assigned. Art, one of my friends, looked over at me while I was taking my quiz and noticed that I hadn't done any work. I was drawing on my paper to make it look like I was attempting to solve the logaritems. He told me to move my hand, copied the problems, worked on a few, and then went across the room so that Brandon could work out the ones he didn't know. Then, he came back to his seat next to me and handed me the answers. I know I should've told him no thank you, but I haven't had a passing score on a quiz or test in Algebra II since January and I really need to pick up my grade in there. Math just isn't my thing. Like I tell everyone. Math is Evil!

Mr. Cohen's last day being my American History Honors intern is tomorrow (I think). I'm so sad. I'll miss him and his sexy self. There's nothing like learning about the Great Depression and whatnot while staring at the holes in his Structure jeans. That man is so damn fine! If only I could jump his bones! =)

I'm going to end this entry so that I can begin looking at the ACT and SAT information I need to fill out. Blah. I really don't want to take either test and I'm not sure that I want to go to college, even though I know that I have to. Sadly, I sometimes wonder if I'll live to see my future; I get that depressed. Whatever...I'll save my depression for another day. =)

2003-04-06T15:42:00.000-04:00
Heh...I haven't posted since March, which kind of makes it sound dramatic, even though it's only been 10 days. =)

Everything in my life is remaining at a constant pace of Boring. I went to prom last night, which was interesting in a way and boring in another. I danced a little, but I'm not much of a dancer, so I pretty much just walked around or sat around and watched all of my peers act extremely stupid. Drunk teenagers are funny, as long as they're not driving their cars into you head or anything. The highlight of prom night didn't even happen at prom; it happened before prom, before I picked up Ashley and Jessica.

Tiffany and I stopped at a 7-11 so that I could get a bottle of water. These guys that were sitting in their car (the third inside the 7-11) were trying to holla at us. It was really funny. They guys were yelling and motioning for me to put down my window. Then they were all, "Hey baby! Where you off to? Really? Ya man taking you? Well, if I had known you didn't have one, I would've taken you..." Yeah. That was very special.

After prom, I dropped Ashley and Jessica off. I didn't even let them socialize after prom was over. I mean, they had from the time we got there (8:30) to the time prom was over (12) to do all the socializing they needed to do. Besides, the ones that didn't crash their cars into some trees on their way to Panama City will be at school Monday, so it's not like they have a lack of socializing time. I took Tiffany home, then came home myself. What did I do once I got here? I sat myself down in front of my computer and socialized with Hae until 3 or something. I didn't notice what time it was when he got off. Then, I got my hair combed out (all the while making a stack of hair that was yanked out of my head), and took a shower. I got to bed about 5 a.m.

I doubt I go to prom next year. It really wasn't what I thought it would be. Prom just isn't prom without getting drunk.

2003-03-27T22:14:00.000-05:00
It's been two days since I last posted, which can be a dangerous thing since I have a tendency to forget about things. I've been busy the past two days, though. Wednesday my mom and I visited my cousin, aunt, and uncle in Perry, Florida. Perry is where my mom grew up, but she's lived in Tallahassee longer than she ever lived in Perry, so she thinks of Tally as home. Perry isn't that far from here, about an hour or hour and a half hour drive from here. We brought my cousin Melissa back with us so that she could stay the night with me.

Yesterday, after we got back in Tallahassee, I had to get fitted for my prom dress. That took about 10 minutes, most of which my mom and the seamstress told me how well the dress fit on me and how I looked beautiful in it. You know I walked out of the dress shop with a large head because of those compliments. The three of us then walked in and out of the shops that surround Encore, the dress shop I was fitted in (which was also the place where I bought my dress). My favorite stores that we went to were Quarter Moon and Quarter Moon Annex. Those two stores sell the coolest items. My mom thought they were "nice" and my cousin found them to be "uniquely different" where I just wanted to buy everything. See, the main store sells clothes that are gypsy/earthy styled, incense and related items, oils, strange musical instruments, and things that make rooms very unique (such as lighting.) As I walked through the store, I thought about Christina, who would appreciate the things in the store just as much as I did. I believe that's where I'll be purchasing her birthday and Christmas gifts this year. The annex sold similar items for the beautification of the home, most of which I wanted. There's nothing like a $126 mirror to make a home a more "unique" place. Each interesting thing had a more interesting price tag.

The three of us also purchased homemade ice cream from the ice cream and brittle shop that was next door to the annex. As we walked around Lake Ella, we commented on how good the ice cream was. I must say, there's nothing like homemade ice cream.

Once we arrived home, I began making plans to go out for the evening. I refused to be stuck at home, even though I was tired. Melissa really didn't feel like going anywhere, but I left her no choice but to come. I connected to AOL and Yahoo Messenger, spoke with Christina via the messenger, then left the house to pick her up. We made plans to see "Dreamcatcher." Melissa didn't want to see the movie, just because it was based on a Steven King novel, but she was a bit pressured to view it with Christina and I. In the end, I think she was happy that she saw it, just so she could point out that it was not scary (which was a point I made earlier that night.) We played a few video games in the arcade to kill time. We planned on going somewhere else to kill time, but Melissa went into the theater before Christina and I, so we had to follow in her footsteps. If Lissa had not given her ticket to the ticket guy, we could've left. Video games are just a little addicting, which was why I forced the three of us out of the arcade.

"Dreamcatcher" was quite the movie. I really enjoyed it. I thought that the character of Josie was very funny, especially when Josie was taken over by Mr. Gray. The smile on the actor's face as he portrayed Mr. Gray was a very funny thing. I also must give props to the make-up people because I had no idea that Donnie Walburg played the character of Dudits. That was a shocker and something that I didn't even find out until the ending credits came up. All in all, I advise everyone to go see "Dreamcatcher" as it is a very interesting movie.

After the movie, the three of us went to Wendy's for dinner; it was the only place we could think of that was opened at 11 p.m. I drove through the drive through 3 times. I believe the people at the drive through window thought I was a straight up crack head. I get that a lot. We were cutting up throughout our meal, but that's pretty normal. I saw my friend Da'mon, who came to pick up either his girlfriend or sister. I'm not sure what her relation to Da'mon is.

I was very tired once I got home, which was at midnight. I took a shower, did my nightly process, and went to bed about 1 a.m.

I slept until 7 a.m. I got up, did my morning process, and stayed awake until 8 a.m. I went back to bed about the time my mom decided to fix breakfast. She came back into my room about 9 a.m. to tell me to get up, but I just rolled over. Melissa and mama ate breakfast without me, assuming I would be upset. They assumed wrong. All I wanted to do was sleep. Then, about 11 a.m. they started coming in and out of my room, trying to get me up. They went through this process for about an hour before I ever rolled out of bed. Once I was up, though, I took a shower and proceeded to get ready. Once that was done, I took over my cousin's place at my computer so that I could check my mail and chat with my friends. This annoyed Lissa because I became "boring." As my friend Hae pointed out, "When you aren't paying attention to her but to the computer, of course you're as dull as a dead cow in the middle of a road." He has such a way of putting things, doesn't he?

We had to leave at 2:30 p.m. because my mom made appointments for the three of us to have our eyebrows wax and to have manicures and pedicures. Melissa and mama also had facials, but I declined due to my jaw problems. It felt good being pampered. It also feels good to look at my nails. They're a dark purple with silver sparkles. They look very nice, if I do say so myself. We left the beauty salon about 6 p.m., came home, got Melissa's things, and went to Olive Garden. We were to meet uncle Johnny and aunt Nancy, Lissa's parents. We ate there, but most of our food came home with us. We just got home about an hour ago. I'm so tired from having such crappy sleep last night. I'm craving a nice long bath, clean sheets on my bed, and a nice long sleep.

Having said all of that, I do think I'm going to proceed by doing just that. Goodnight everyone!

2003-03-26T01:49:00.000-05:00
Writing in my actual journal made me feel like making an entry in this one.

So, what was written in my real journal tonight? Nothing very exciting. I just pointed out how much of a bastard Jared is. I tried being nice to him, I sent him letters, I sent him money (once. I'm too cheap to give money away. Besides, it was only $29), and pictures of me (which isn't the best gift one can receive in the mail). I would've thought that he would've been a little more considerate and not let me know that he started a relationship with his friend Heather. That is, of course, if he was telling the truth. Jared is a lying bastard so it's sometimes hard to tell if his stories are true or false.

This leads me to wonder what exactly Heather sees in Jared to make her want a relationship with him -- especially since he's in jail! We "hooked up" before he went to jail. I wouldn't have kept in contact if I had not promised him that I would. I didn't care for Jared that much. Of course, knowing him and being involved with him have hindered me in many ways. I did things that I hardly ever do (and hate doing) like lying to my Mom and being irresponsible. Lying to my Mom was the worst. She and I have such a tight relationship and not being able to tell her the truth has been eating at me. She still can't know, she should never know what I've done. I don't think she'd ever forgive me. Jared was a mistake and that's that. There's nothing more to say.

On a happier note, I may be seeing my cousin Melissa tomorrow. If she doesn't have to work, my Mom and I are going to Perry, FL to pick her up and bring her back to Tallahassee. If she does have to work, we'll go get her after 1:30 p.m. Melissa is trying to get away from her parents, which is something that I can't blame her for. After a certain amount of time, parents are the most annoying creatures that walk the planet Earth.

In closing I have just one question: Where's a dog or cat get a new tail at?

At a re-"tail" store!

Thanks to Hae for that one.

2003-03-25T19:28:00.000-05:00
I have finally got the new template for this blog working! I'm glad, too, because I was ready to let it stay half assed, since I don't posess the patience needed for HTML. The template comes with everything done, only needing me to insert the important stuff, like links and the title of the page. This has proved to be such a difficult task for me to accomplish. There is a reason why I stopped playing with HTML; I become homicidal when things don't go my way.

I have a feeling that my dog, Shortie, sensed my anger and hostile feelings, which is why he is no where to be found. I mean, I got homicidal, but I didn't kill Shortie.

I swear!

That mound of new dirt in the corner of the yard is my new rose garden, not a doggy grave. I say that with the word of the Grave Diggers, and we never lie when it comes to digging.

So, here I sit, with it being 7:26 p.m. with not a thing to do. I'm really needing to get out of the house. It's Tuesday. I've got 5 days left for Spring Break, and I have yet to have a "girls night out" or a "stalker party." I NEED to get out of this house!

Maybe tomorrow night me and the girls can go stalk Marcos [aka Mr. Structure Jeans, bka Mr. Cohen - the American History intern.] Life would be good if Marcos were tied up in my Explorer. Life would be even better if he were tied up because he was into bondage and not because was trying to escape.

2003-03-25T15:56:00.000-05:00
Jared and I are officially over. I can't explain how happy I am. I was so tired of him. It's weird how I sometimes think of people like I use to think of my baby dolls; they're fun to play with, but after a while I'll throw them down and forget about them. Jared influenced me to do things I wouldn't normally do, like lying to my mom and being irresponsible. I hope that I won't let these types of things get out of control again.

I'm really tired of thinking about the whole situation, though, so if you're really interested in a overview of how we broke up, head on over to my Diaryland.com diary.

I would write more but I'm not going to. I'll hit ya up later with more ramblings from the Bored & Blahness of my mind.

2003-03-25T01:19:00.000-05:00
At this very moment, there is nothing in this world I would like more than something non-boring to do. I need some excitement. It's 1:15 A.M., I'm stuck at home (where I'm usually at around 1:15 A.M.), and talking to my girl Christina and my preppy friend Hae. I tried getting Hae to speak to Christina, but he's ignoring the two of us. That's okay, though, because we're having a jolly good time cracking on many things, Hae included. When I start cracking, very few, if any, are spared.

Around this same time, I'm wondering whether Jared will call me or not. My mom took this week off, being that it's Spring Break and all, which isn't the best set up. Getting a collect call from a St. Lucie County Inmate would not make my mom's day and would very likely make her homicidal, but only towards me. My mom is not aware that Jared exists (well, she does, but she thought the "problem" was resolved and that she would never hear of him again) and it would send her over the edge (and me to my grave) if he were to call. Damn Collect Calls!

Is there anything else that I wish to get off of my chest?

Nope?

Heh, if I think of something, there will be another post (oh goody!)

2003-03-24T21:52:00.000-05:00
nekorevolution.net says that I am...

Who are you?

What Spooky Being are You?

You're not punk. You know you're not punk. You don't listen to punk music. You don't wear punk outfits. You don't care about politics. Why did you take this test??

Whats Yer Punk?

Take the Purrsonality Quiz!

2003-03-24T21:39:00.000-05:00
I just deleted this post becuase it wasn't working. I'll try again later.

2003-03-24T19:35:00.000-05:00
This is my first entry.

I could go on and on about what this blog will be, but really, I don't know yet. I'm one of those people that goes with my mood swings (which could be good or bad, depending on if I'm swinging on the Bitchy branch or the Innocent Branch.) So, wait around and see what happens!