Everything's Not Lost

picture circa 2004
I had just walked a fast twenty paces out of the Pittsburgh Mills Hot Topic (I had to work there for two days of that week) pushing my phone up to look for voicemails from my mother or texts from Brittany; I was right on both. I listened to my mom's message, something about how to drive home and I press 7; delete. I find my inbox and open up Britt's text: I make the most unnatural gasp/scream any person should ever need to.


"Did you hear about alia. she was killed in a car accident on 422 today :-(
4:05 PM WED, May 28

Heads turned; I ran.

I won't lie, we had grainy, rough, scratchy patches; more or less orchestrated out of unfortunate situations now forgotten. There was no bump or grind we could not smooth over; we had a Pendot street paver larger than my house; unstoppable. As it were a long ride, we took turns at the wheel. If it her's, she would be next to me pushing a fruity sugar-filled skittle in front of my damp sullen eyes forced on by stresses; also my mental instability and lack of Hoover Dam controlling my tearducts. We took fair turns. It normally took me a week to figure out how, but through much (unneeded) thought and built up (also unneeded) courage, my shaking fingers would plunge toward the keys befitting of the words I had pondered far too long. All fears and awaiting reprecussions were never realized. There was no pot-hole we would not or could not ramp.

So on this long ride together we shared experiences and stories about our times. The night she called me and told me about that foul boy she had kissed, and I told her how he had pursued me just a year earlier in gym class; and that he was foul. Chatting for over two hours; the chatter containing nothing truely important rather than the words of friends. Times where we would "meh" loudly back and forth; distrubed glances soon to follow. Personally, we found there to be nothing wrong with making goat noises on all occassions. It was a celebration of our goat freedom; unfortunately, we were not goats. Times like these, we would say, were some of the best of our lives.

Our stories made the ride easier. Our long ride has been fun, but for a bit, she may have to take the wheel alone. I am sure it will be an enjoyable ride; you see, once situations change, our monstrous Pendot paver is a vintage '67 jet black mustang convertable. (I've always wanted one, but I will have to wait.) I am also sure that Penny, my late dog I remember she loved, may join her and keep good company. Until then; I will miss you.

Bonnie

Teapot

so, on the way to enp last night, my brother and I made up an absolutely terrible song. It's not bad, its just politically incorrect (most likely) and all that junk
so,
no offense
all in good fun

I'm a little emo short and stout,
Here is my comb-over, here is my pout,
When I'm out in public I stick out,
Slit my wrists and blood poors out,

yeah, pretty terrible....and amusing

i'm sorry


shut up

This is for Real

So, I'm a loser who barely writes in this thing. I brainstormed; found some ideas: here's one.

Love of the Week:

Smut; yes, dirty smuttiness

Why? Because I found out how much I enjoy drawing/painting smutty pictures. (I'm an artist) I started sketching, like, a couple in my Bible as Literature class, and while I was thinking about the type of couple these characters are; I realized they are not the sweet hugging type: I started to change the picture. It turned into a bit of a smut pic, and I was rather shocked at my own pen drawing it. It's really not that bad, they are clothed haha; but it is a little raunchy. Then I started painting it on Photoshop, and I really just loved the picture; so I love smut.

and this week I alsooooooooooooo Hate---

Bumble Bees:

I'd be pretty pissed too if someone put me in that horrid costume

Why: Yeah thats right, I am afraid of bumble bees, but not the "oh they won't hurt you" bumble bees, the killer bumble bees at college. The ones that effing dive bomb us as we duck into buildings. The one whose buzzing I can hear zooming towards me from 50 ft away. The bumble bees that threaten the ground I stand on as they buzz around my head. THOSE ones! so there,

shut up

Rock of Bullshit

Are you serious?! He picked Ambre? Seriously?
My opinion: It definitely won't last.
First off; Yes, Rock of Love is my guilty pleasure and I love to watch it.
Second; When it comes to reality tv, if I watch a reality show, I pick a favorite almost at the beginning, and ,much to my happiness, they usually are the chosen one. But apparently that all got thrown out the window when Bret didn't pick my favorite Daisy! Sweet awesome rocker chick Daisy!
What is wrong with you man? Ambre was so annoying! The more and more I payed attention to her, the more I noticed that she was "in it to win it" and not really there for Bret. She is a "tv host", she lied about her age, and she was treating Bret like a giant shiny rockin' trophy. Instead of being herself, she changed herself so he would like her more (so she could win) He told her she had a nice stomache on the first day so she started cutting her shirts in half every morning, Daisy told her she wasnt very sexual, so she decided to not wear underwear on the last date and tell him so at dinner;and she opened her legs for him...at DINNER talk about ruining the main course. Did I forget to mention how she crawled on his back naked and gave him a "massage". When she was normally not like that. And watching poor Daisy's heart break on national television, when she was clearly the right choice for him. She was honest to a fault even when people didn't believe her: And she was attacked constantly for no reason at the very end....hmmm jealousy. For her true and honest and awesome interview go here http://blog.vh1.com/2008-04-14/the-celebreality-interview-daisy/?source=hp_blog
ok...I think I'm done ranting for today...but I can't wait for the reunion show, it looks juicy. However that evil Heather is going to attack poor Daisy and bash her brains in: or so it showed on the preview; scary.
Till next time....

The Way I Are

I pose a question: Can a person be accidentally racist?
Not by choice would they say or do things that could be racist, but possibly it would come from something embedded in them. Maybe they have a parent who is racist and they inherited it, or from hearing it they have picked it up. Now they would never think or say "I don't like (particular ethnic group)" but they're phrasing suggests otherwise. I have a friend, she is not racist, but she says things that I don't think she realizes could be racist. She doesn't mean to be...mean, but it certainly comes out that way. Once she suggested that rap music was basically the only thing that african americans listen to: like it's their national anthem. She really didn't get it; that was mean. Another time we were watching a show and an african american girl was on it, and she said "she has pretty hair, for a black girl". (She actually meant to say she had pretty hair for it being a weave...but, yeah) And not so far away I saw a girl while I was at work that was wearing all purple and I told my friend about this, later her and I were at a show: we saw purple girl. I pointed her out "Oh my gosh, look theres purple girl," my friend replied, "you didn't tell me she was black." I said "I didn't know it was relevant."
Now I know that she doesn't mean to say these things in a bad or hurtful or stereotypical way, but I can't help but think that this has all been stuck into her unconscious. Her father definitely says things that are stereotypical and racist: he is a really nice guy, but that's just the way he is. So she may have picked it up unknowingly from her father. I am afraid though, that one of these days she'll say something like that to the wrong person and then....well, I don't really want to know. But I believe that it's not her fault; therefor, she is accidentally racist.

In the End

Well I had a photoshoot, but it really wasn't one I prepared for. I was dancing and choreographing until I had an annoying little epiphany; do we really suck at something we think we are good at?

Well, I'm not sure if it was a weak moment of my damaged psyche, but I was adding 8 counts onto a duet I am doing with my friend and I just thought I sucked. I really thought I was bad at what I was doing and that all this time I have been making a fool of myself dancing like I'm good; and I'm not. I can't ask anyone either; they would lie. But I'm not sure I really care anyways. I do think that this picture I took last night is great and edgy, but it might not be. I may be blinded by a film of "you rock" because, frankly, if i wasn't, if nobody was: we would probably do nothing. Actually we would all be emo-ing it up in our bedrooms crying over our shortcomings. So I suppose this whole post was a waste of time, or no, it was a great contribution to society and I am so happy that I posted it. I hope you are too.

And I shall end with: "Bueller...Bueller...Bueller...anyone? Bueller...."

Under My Skin

So i'm starting a blog...yeah, I know. But sometimes I just feel like writing stuff down and while I used to own a livejournal (well not own like, carry around in my bag), it became corrupt. I mostly poured my lame teenage angst into it and it turned into an open book for my enemies to read, so; its done. Now I'm blogging...that sounds so weird. It goes along with being able to post art and behind the scenes stuff from my photoshoots so this is going to be interesting. I have nothing to type anymore because nothing exciting has happened yet; great I know.
I will leave you with this: The Shins, any rapper, and a chinese kid with really long fingers.