I'm screaming. Part delight, part absolute fear, and part "Oh my God I'm so fucking tired!" and here is why; my mom took me shopping today to cheer me up. She bought me scented panties. SCENTED. Like apple and blueberry. Isn't that great? Except not because it's scary. But funny!
I just noticed something on Cfsial. He has a hole on his chest. Hmm. Maybe that's where his last lover ripped his heart out. I shall have to draw this.
Thursday, February 26, 2004
I came up with a delightful acronym. It's my new motto. I even named my new stuffed animal after it. It's a white pegasus, and it's going to be Marlog's companion. Yeah, leave me alone. Anyway, this acronym. C F S I A L. The pegaus is Cfsial. As I awoke from my nap, I thought "Holy crap, why why why am I doing this to myself? Why am I C F S I A L? It only hurts me, fills me with hate and doubt." And my reply was merely "Never give up." Yes, I'm C F S I A L. I hate it, I love it.
Tuesday, February 24, 2004
Whose in the mood for a bitterly angry poem? I know I sure am!
My Reflection
She does whatever I do
Everything
I blink
She blinks
I smile
She smiles
I touch the glass
She touches the glass
I cry
She cries
I scratch my head
She scratches her head
I jump
She jumps
I open my mouth
She opens her mouth
I wiggle my toes
She wiggles her toes
I stick out my tongue
She sticks out her tongue
I sneeze
She sneezes
I sweat
She sweats
I bleed
She bleeds
I wave
She waves
I wrinkle my nose
She wrinkles her nose
I brush my hair
She brushes her hair
I laugh
She laughs
I sit
She sits
I try to look happy
She tries to look happy
But there is something
She does not do
I feel
She does not
I want to die
And laugh
And sing
And breathe
And live
And scream
And kill
And she just looks at me
Blankly
She does not feel
Isn't my reflection
Lucky?
My Reflection
She does whatever I do
Everything
I blink
She blinks
I smile
She smiles
I touch the glass
She touches the glass
I cry
She cries
I scratch my head
She scratches her head
I jump
She jumps
I open my mouth
She opens her mouth
I wiggle my toes
She wiggles her toes
I stick out my tongue
She sticks out her tongue
I sneeze
She sneezes
I sweat
She sweats
I bleed
She bleeds
I wave
She waves
I wrinkle my nose
She wrinkles her nose
I brush my hair
She brushes her hair
I laugh
She laughs
I sit
She sits
I try to look happy
She tries to look happy
But there is something
She does not do
I feel
She does not
I want to die
And laugh
And sing
And breathe
And live
And scream
And kill
And she just looks at me
Blankly
She does not feel
Isn't my reflection
Lucky?
Guess who had a shitty day?
Go on, guess.
Kat!
That's right. Oh my God, today was awful. I hate everyone and everything right now. And according to some others, I haven't been acting like myself lately. Which is total bullcrap. This person I have become is me now. I'm being a total bitch to almost everbody, but I don't give a rats ass. I just don't. It's hardly even worth dragging myself out of bed in the morning. And on top of all my other shittacular problems, none of which you care about, I have commited a mortal sin, which I got two beratings about, and now I'm in Mr Jobb's "Bad Book". Holy crap. I wouldn't be surprised if I was fired from being Head of Costumes. But again, I don't give a shit. If you had asked me last week, I would have, but this week, I'm a fucking asshole. I made a promise to myself, and it was the worst promise anyone can ever make. It might kill me. But damn it I'm going to keep it. Tomorrow, I am going to my Happy Hidey Hole and staying there. And even then I won't be left the hell alone. Fuck it. Fuck it.
Go on, guess.
Kat!
That's right. Oh my God, today was awful. I hate everyone and everything right now. And according to some others, I haven't been acting like myself lately. Which is total bullcrap. This person I have become is me now. I'm being a total bitch to almost everbody, but I don't give a rats ass. I just don't. It's hardly even worth dragging myself out of bed in the morning. And on top of all my other shittacular problems, none of which you care about, I have commited a mortal sin, which I got two beratings about, and now I'm in Mr Jobb's "Bad Book". Holy crap. I wouldn't be surprised if I was fired from being Head of Costumes. But again, I don't give a shit. If you had asked me last week, I would have, but this week, I'm a fucking asshole. I made a promise to myself, and it was the worst promise anyone can ever make. It might kill me. But damn it I'm going to keep it. Tomorrow, I am going to my Happy Hidey Hole and staying there. And even then I won't be left the hell alone. Fuck it. Fuck it.
Sunday, February 22, 2004
Protector
The ULTIMATE personality test
brought to you by Quizilla
Yeah...I guess...wait...is that Angel and Buffy I see?! Eeeewwwewewewew! Icky icky icky! Must go wash...unclean!
I should go and write my social essay. It's the last bit of my homework, but damn do I hate writing essays. Such a formality, and if you get one thing wrong it messes up your mark entirely. Dear me, I shall have to struggle through it.
The Raven
by Edgar Allan Poe
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore-
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door-
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distictly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each seperate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;-vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow-sorrow for the lost Lenore-
For the fair and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore-
Nameless here forever more.
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me-filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-
This it is and nothing more."
Presently my soul grew stronger, hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"-here I opened wide the door;-
Darkness there and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-
'Tis the wind and nothing more!"
Open hear I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mein of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "are sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering the Nightly shore-
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning-little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door-
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such a name as "Nevermore."
But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther, then he uttured-not a feather then he fluttered-
Till I scarcely more than muttured "Other friends have flown before-
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said "Nevermore."
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never-nevermore.'"
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore-
What this grim, ungainly ghast, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
This I sat, engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methough, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseem censer
Swung by Seraphim whost footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "the God hath lent thee-by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite-respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil-prophet still, if bird or devil!-
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-
On this home by Horror haunted-tell me truly, I emplore-
Is there-is there balm in Gilead?-tell me-tell me, I emplore!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil-prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us-by that God we both adore-
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting-
Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul has spoken!
Leave my lonliness unbroken!-quit the bust above my chamber door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted-nevermore!
Well that was jolly good fun, although typing it hurt. Tomorrow's entry; "For Annie", which is as creepy as hell. Thankyou and goodnight.
The Raven
by Edgar Allan Poe
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore-
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door-
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distictly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each seperate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;-vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow-sorrow for the lost Lenore-
For the fair and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore-
Nameless here forever more.
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me-filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-
This it is and nothing more."
Presently my soul grew stronger, hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"-here I opened wide the door;-
Darkness there and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-
'Tis the wind and nothing more!"
Open hear I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mein of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "are sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering the Nightly shore-
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning-little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door-
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such a name as "Nevermore."
But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther, then he uttured-not a feather then he fluttered-
Till I scarcely more than muttured "Other friends have flown before-
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said "Nevermore."
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never-nevermore.'"
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore-
What this grim, ungainly ghast, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
This I sat, engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methough, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseem censer
Swung by Seraphim whost footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "the God hath lent thee-by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite-respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil-prophet still, if bird or devil!-
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-
On this home by Horror haunted-tell me truly, I emplore-
Is there-is there balm in Gilead?-tell me-tell me, I emplore!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil-prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us-by that God we both adore-
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting-
Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul has spoken!
Leave my lonliness unbroken!-quit the bust above my chamber door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted-nevermore!
Well that was jolly good fun, although typing it hurt. Tomorrow's entry; "For Annie", which is as creepy as hell. Thankyou and goodnight.
I have so much homework to do it isn't even funny. I simply must get it all done, especially my social. So far, my mark 93.13%, which is fabulous, but very hard to maintain. Work work work.
Monday lunchtime looms ever closer! I'll have to go and rummage out Edgar Allen Poe from the basement. Maybe I'll put up a poem or something should I have nothing else to blog about.
I had a lovely dream last night. So realistic, I could see, hear, and feel everything that was going on. But, as is the problem with all good dreams, it ended. I woke up feeling sad and lonely. Oh well, I can dwell on it as much as I should like to. I have a bookmark with a quote on it, and I love it a lot. "No one can lay a hand on our dreams." Ah, so true.
Signing off now.
Monday lunchtime looms ever closer! I'll have to go and rummage out Edgar Allen Poe from the basement. Maybe I'll put up a poem or something should I have nothing else to blog about.
I had a lovely dream last night. So realistic, I could see, hear, and feel everything that was going on. But, as is the problem with all good dreams, it ended. I woke up feeling sad and lonely. Oh well, I can dwell on it as much as I should like to. I have a bookmark with a quote on it, and I love it a lot. "No one can lay a hand on our dreams." Ah, so true.
Signing off now.
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