I'm not

boy-crazy.

I've just gone boy-stark-raving-mad.

thanksgiving week

is finally here, and I am so excited! A whole week to laze around, to write, to sleep, to watch movies, to make movies, to finish photoshop projects. I bought a book for myself (I can't remember the last time I did so). It's turning out to be such a good read, as soon as I finish it, I'm lending it to my English Teacher. It's called "Octavian Nothing", recorded by "Mr. (?) T. M. Anderson". I can't give out much more than that it stretches your mind to new heights. I suggest reading a few selective texts before digging into this novel to understand it better. Texts such as Mr. Ralph Emerson's Essay "The Transcendentalist Man" (dense, but beautiful), Mr. Herman Melville's "Bartleby" (a funny, yet sad and thought-provoking satire of The Transcendentalist Man) and perhaps Mr. Nathial Hawthorne's "Scarlet Letter" (just for the heck of it).

I feel enlightened.


Tuesday is set aside to see the movie "The Prestige" with a few friends of mine. I've seen it before, but I wish to see it again. It is an amazing film. Let us propose that if movies were roller coasters, this one would be so full of twists and turns and gorgeous spirals, that my delicate stomach would surely be full of butterflies by simply observing it.

I find myself in a quandry. I do not know whether to delete my publishings on the web or leave them for my own amusement.
In time, I shall decide...

my life

has turned into one giant puzzle piece. Some things that were once there, and that I always thought would be there for and ever to support me, and love me...is now gone. And then there are new pieces that never really quite fit, and whose color really doesn't quite match the overall picture, but they're there nontheless, to fill the gaps that need to be filled.A

nd I mustn't forgot those on the edges...the pieces of striking beauty that will never find a place into this homely, living art piece....and oh, how I so want them to be, it fills my every waking hour, despite the fact that I know it could never be.

yes, my life.

unseen beauty

She ran a hand along her jaw line, feeling the muscles tense under her touch. There would be no talking today. Just humming. And typed words on the screen, or ink scribbled notes.
With a sigh, she sank onto her worn, navy-blue couch, white robe falling off her left shoulder. It was going to be a long day. She knew in advance. A long, lonely day. Lonely, because no one read anything of hers anymore. She understood that they had other things to do; but was she not just as busy as them? There had been no contact with them for several weeks now. And still she tried. She wasn’t able to pick up the phone and call; the electricity wasn’t always guaranteed, and then there was the stutter she had developed that sometimes froze the word she was speaking into one agonizing syllable. To express herself, to release the thoughts and feelings of her heart – her only real means of communication was through the writings. And the photographs. And the art.
They knew where it was all at; it never changed locations. And there were new, exciting things every week. But it seemed as if they no longer cared. As if she was the only one that actually gave a damn about something. They had locked her into a cell, with no means of escape. Her words were there, waiting to be read; her art was there, waiting to be stared at. And still no one came. No one wanted to know her, to love her. No one cared.
Torture.

She sat there for an hour, staring off into space, the robe slipping off her shoulder, off her back. She bit her lip when her thoughts drifted away from the empty apartment, and into the past; about her last boy friend, how he would not talk to her now, because he never really loved her. There was no friendship, no loyalty, no love. Nothing. Just the blood-chilling fact that he used her, and discarded her.
She hadn’t cried about it yet.

But now, with everything weighing down upon her, she eventually succumbed to the tears that dripped down the length of her nose. She buried her face in a pillow and sobbed, gasping for air. She knew that if she cried, it would be all right. And yet she hated crying. Her jaw began to ache again, and she rubbed it slowly, methodically, as she struggled to sit up.
I need to get a grip, she thought. I can’t lose it like this.

She forced herself to take long, deep breaths, and to sit still, hugging the robe around her shivering body. After a moment, she got up and paced for a while, trying to clear her mind. It was going to be alright. Life moves on. At least your art is out there. At least you are blessed with the gift of writing.
But is it a gift or a curse?

She passed the carving of the angel her father had given her, just before he died. The creamy paint was peeling off the wings, and around the eyes of the majestic creature. She stopped before it, feeling weariness fall over her. With a last sigh, she kissed her first two fingers, and touched them to the angel’s lips. And then she disappeared into her bedroom, to create more of the beauty that no one would ever see.

http://finchsnest.blogspot.com/2006/11/angel.html

why

is
worthlessness
such
a
strong
emotion
?

worsening.

I can't believe myself sometimes. I'm such a...ditzy blonde. Or something.
Why can I not handle this?
Why is it unraveling my every cohererent thought?
I know, in my head that it won't work, but I keep saying it, and saying it to myself, and I don't understand my own logic.

I blurted it all at lunch today.
Bad news.

Now it'll be all over the school, and then he'll really find out...and where will I be?

Another LOTR parady sort of thing

This is so funny! Yay - now I know what more I could do with my free-time...(not that I have any, of course)

"watch"

heart pounding
mind racing
can’t breathe
thoughts pacing
just stay a safe distance away
and everything will be okay

I find that I could watch you
for hours upon hours...

I’ve gone so soft
watch - open me up with a butter knife
and pick apart the threads of my life

hands trembling
mouth is dry
can’t speak
only sigh
oh, please don’t meet my glance
we only met by fated chance

I find that I could watch you
for hours upon hours...

I’ve gone so soft
just open me up with a butter knife
and pick apart the threads of my life

oh, I could just watch you for hours
upon hours
upon hours
upon hours
upon...

have i mentioned

that i am slowly and agonizingly losing my mind?

"Headlock" Imogen Heap

Distant flickering, greener scenery
This weather's bringing it all back again
Great adventures, faces and condensation
I'm going outside to take it all in

You say too late to start, got your heart in a headlock
I don't believe any of it
You say too late to start, with your heart in a headlock
You know you're better than this

Wear a different pair, do something out of step
Throw a stranger an unexpected smile
With big intention, still posted at your station
Always on about the day it should have flied

You say too late to start, got your heart in a headlock
I don't believe any of it
You say too late to start, with your heart in a headlock
You know you're better than this

Afraid to start, got your heart in a headlock
I don't believe any of it
You say too late to start, with your heart in a headlock
You know you're better than this

Been walking, you've been hiding
And you look half dead half the time
Monitoring you, like machines do
You've still got it, I'm just keeping an eye

I've been walking, you've been hiding
And you look half dead half the time
Monitoring you, like machines do
You've still got it, I'm just keeping an eye
So what, don't care, will not, the end

You know you're better than this
I'll make you start, got your heart in a headlock
I don't believe any of it
You say too late to start, with your heart in a headlock
You know you're better than this

Afraid to start, got your heart in a headlock
I don't believe any of it
You say too late to start, with your heart in a headlock
You know you're better than this

debriefing

Just a summary - I'm running out of time on computer, due to homework, and the fact that I'm getting emailed....by a certain unnamed person....ANYWAYS:

-I went trick or treating as a gypsey and had a blast! Pics soon!
-May be performing "Scarlet Letter: the Musical" tomorrow, but this is unsure.
-Freaking out!
-I am so 'soft' (as Jo says) its driving me nuts! I never thought of myself as 'boy crazy' but I guess I am.
-Still freaking out!
-I got in trouble today in French becuase of my water bottle today - very funny story.

-Yipes! Still freaking!