Plonk.

I haven't been around in a while. Mostly because school started and I've been attacked with work of various sorts. My problem right now? Yeah, I can't find my Modern Euro homework. This is wierd, because I could swear I put it in that one folder that I have. But what does THAT sentence say about me? Oy.
But I miss this blog a lot. Hopefully this time I'm back for good.

So. I was considering feet the other day. Yes. True fact. Feet can be pretty damn attractive, I've decided. If it's the right pair of feet. On the right person. Or whatever. Don't even try to understand it, because I don't.
This thinking about feet led me to think about hands. I have always considered hands attractive. And wrists. An interesting fact about hands is that they can never lie. Like, you can have had thousands of dollars worth of plastic surgery, but your hands will always reveal how old you are. What does this mean exactly? I’m not sure. But it’s still really cool.

I also learned the other day that The Nightmare Before Christmas is a metaphor for homosexuality. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be that way—although it supposedly was—but it definitely ended up like that. Watch it. You’ll see.

That's all I have for today.
I still love you, even if I don't know what love is.

This can be more than flashing lights and sounds.

So I've changed layouts again. Back to my original template. I still like this one the best.
I have also changed my blog title and such things. The Artist In The Ambulance is actually a song. It's by a band called Thrice. I don't really know very much about them at all. They came up on my Pandora...I think. Anyway. This song. I love it. I know I say that a lot. But this one kind of epitomizes a lot of things that I come to in this blog. About improving myself and making existence more than it is right now. Trust me. Shall I pull another Grooveshark? Yes, yes I think I will.




See? Isn't that AWESOME??

Okay. So there is kind of a funny connection between that song and my subtitle. I was listening to it...Artist In The Ambulance, and I realized that part of it sounded familiar. I couldn't figure out why. And I didn't really. It was an accident when I did. I was looking for something a friend of mine had said in a post on Facebook. And it was in that post that I found part of the lyrics to the song. That post also ended, "im no hero but dont think i didnt care". Under normal circumstances, the horrible punctuation would have killed me. But it didn't. I love that sentence more then I can express. I didn't tell the guy who wrote it that I used it. He'll find out or he won't, depending on if he reads this.
I feel like I should explain why I love that so much. But I can't really figure out the words for it. I'm trying to. I really am. It's one of those things that just kind of...hit you. And you can't describe it beyond that. If I ever can, I will. But that might take away from it's amazingness.

On to something else that has been happening. I forgot how much I like being touched. EEEWWWW sicko. NOT like that. (So I know that just means I'M the sicko. But whatever). I was holding hands with three different people in the last twenty four hours. I was held in someone's arms. It was nice. I mean, of course my family hugs me, and my brother holds my hand sometimes. But that's different. It isn't the same connection.
I think I have a problem. I've already talked about my constant worry that people only pretend to like me? Well I think this is connected. When someone is willing to hold my hand, or hold me, or hug me, or anything like that, I have some subconsious affirmation that they truly do like me. If you can touch me, if you can show you care enough to do something like that, I know that you are truly someone who is my friend. I will lose that assurance within a week. But still. I felt for a little while.
I think I know why this is. When I was...well. In my worst years, I suppose...I was never touched. Other then my family, of course. Not even accidental brushes. I was and alien, I was diseased, whatever the rumor was that week. There was a bubble around me all the time. The one friend I had--who did not attend the same school--would not, and still doesn't, allow physical contact for more then five or six seconds. I understand how she feels that way. It doesn't bother me anymore. Because she is the one person I can always trust to care about me. Once again, my family is excluded from that.
That experience, though, is the one that caused my desire to be touched. Like Tommy.

"See Me/Feel Me/Touch Me/Heal Me"

I think it was those same years that made me such a hard-heart. I really think they shaped me entirley. But my hard heart has been causing problems recently. I suppose you could say that I wish I didn't have it. I wish I wasn't afraid to care about...well. Someone. I wish I could just care. Like a normal person. Without thinking about how stupid I am. How much I don't need him, how much I am better off alone. Because my defensive instinct tells me that I should stay safe and alone. But that part of me that isn't so afraid tells me otherwise. And my head wants me to relax. My head wants me to care without being careful. Because I do care. More than is particularly healthy. But at the same time? I don't. The soft parts of my heart care, and the hard parts won't let me.
I heard something somewhere once that we don't love with our hearts, but with our brains and our souls.

Oh God. How TEENAGE GIRL!!! I hate that. I hate that SO MUCH.

Ugh. I have to end this now.

Oy.

Do you feel alive??

So I was lying in bed last night, not sleeping. As per usual. I was listening to Angels and Airwaves. If you haven't ever heard them... Well, not that it matters. I am putting one of their songs on this lovely {that lovely was for you Leah} blog post. This is not the one I was listening to, but it is my very favorite. It's called "Secret Crowds", and it's off of AVA's (that's the abbreviation, trust me) second--and possibly last--album. I say possibly last, because Tom DeLong was the lead singer, and he was also the lead singer of blink-182, which has recently had a reunion. Ignore all the commas in that sentence. Anyhow, "Secret Crowds":



Yeah, okay, it gets a bit repetitive at the end...but still.
Now that you have heard one of the songs, I can get back to my point.

I was listening to a song by AVA last night. I don't remember which one. And one of the lyrics went, "And now I feel alive." Pretty cliche line, right? I've never really given much thought to it. But I did last night. And I don't get it. Honestly. You ARE alive, aren't you? It's not like you could feel dead. And, okay, that's very childish of me. But here's the truth: I have never not felt alive. Every second of every day, while my heart beats, while I'm breathing, experiencing, loving, learning, living. I am very much alive. Nothing has ever reminded me of it, or made me truly feel it. It just is.
I suppose one day that might change. I might have some earth-shattering experience, or I'll meet someone so phenomenal that suddenly I will be more alive then I was before. But right at this point in time, I can't see that happening. Because, for better or worse, I am very alive, and very aware of it.


How about you? Do you feel alive?

The End.

I've just finished watching this movie. It was called...um. Wow. Something about hearts. Huh. I feel dumb. Just a second.

tick.
tock.
tick.
tock.

Right! Untamed Hearts. Sound cheesy? Yeah, that's because it was. Trust me. I mean...it was good. It was "different", according to some people. But really. I saw a movie that was practically identical in storyline. Well, not really. But same basic concept. Except Keith--the other movie--had so much more character development, was SO much easier to relate to...and okay, I have to admit. Keith is the best name EVER. Anyway. Keith. Ignore that it stars Jesse McCartney. He was actually very very good in the movie, nothing at all like the way he usually is. It was a delicious film for anyone in the mood for a chick flick/drama. Go watch it.

And now I'm going to get back to my point about Untamed Hearts. It ended with the words THE END. Which is pretty classic, I suppose. Things ending with 'the end'. Plus--listen to me! It ends with the words the end. But it still bugs me. I hate the end. Because nothing is ever the end, is it? Yeah, okay, the movie is over. But if you think like I do, those characters aren't over. They still have their own imaginary lives to live. So it isn't the end.
If you can't see it that way, it still isn't the end. Anything you watch or read has to have some sort of impact on you. You might not notice, and you could very well call it a waste of time. But it still makes you think. It still occupies your time, and your mind. So it didn't end. It's still with you, no matter how endlessly cheesy it was. Or annoying. Or a waste of time.

It's a good thing I'm done, because Malcom in the Middle just came on.

I still love you, dear.

Welcome

This poor blog has been needlessly neglected. I feel just terrible about it.
Okay, really, I do. This, unfortunatley, just goes to prove how utterly braindead I've been since I got home from that epic vacation. Ugh.

But this is a fresh start: thus the fresh layout. I keep changing it. I think I'll keep longer when school starts, but it just doesn't seem to suit me at all these days. I wish I knew more HTML. My knowledge far more limited than it should be.

Actually, that seems to be true in a lot of things these days. I wish I knew more about all sorts of things. The problem, though, is that at this current moment in time, I cannot recall ANY of those things. But I'm sure I've been thinking it to myself a whole lot recently...

Okay. So. In the next week, I have to do some hardcore soul searching. Hardcore. Oh my. I think I'll keep it to myself right now, but when I am done, I shall share it with all you wonderful people.

I feel very tired right now. Exaughsted. My brain is failing me. Oy. I just wanted the world to know that I still exist.

welcometotheuniverse.

Tuesday's With Kyra's Mind 2.0

Humdeedum. Okay, here we go.

When you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought?
You know what? I haven't looked in the mirror today.
How much cash do you have on you?
Absolutley none.
What's a word that rhymes with "DOOR?"
floor
Favorite planet?
RIP Pluto
Who is the 4th person on your missed call list on your cell phone?
Alex, I believe.
What is your favorite ring on your phone?
I have no good rings on my phone. However, I'M GETTING A NEW ONE!!!
What shirt are you wearing?
The '07-'08 Chap theatre shirt.
Do you "label" yourself?
I will ocasionally put labels on my shirt...Hello, My Name Is "fuck you". And the like.
Name the brand of your shoes you're currently wearing?
I am wearing God's brand of shoes.
Bright or Dark Room?
People call my family vampires for a reason, love.
What were you doing at midnight last night?
Midnight here, I was rocking out to some music. Midnight there, I was cursing the sun for keeping me awake.
What did your last text message you received on your cell say?
tommy_boy_lt: I'm SO hungry. Why does Justin have to have a job? We wouldn't be eating sandwiches everyday!
Where is your nearest 7-11?
I'm in the middle of the woods, dipshit. So far, far away.
What's a word that you say a lot?
Imagine. Lame sauce. Shit. Damn. And fuck. I apologize to all those that dislike my cussing, but it's true.
Who told you he/she loved you last?
my dad.
Last furry thing you touched?
Oh God. I just had an utterly disgusting thought. I'll leave the sick minded to ponder that. The last furry thing I touched was my dog.
How many drugs have you done in the last three days?
I have taken three 40 mg doses of Celexa.
How many rolls of film do you need developed?
I take all my photos digitally. But my brother needs two developed.
Favorite age you have been so far?
Uh. Sixteen, I think. Thus far, it's been a pretty good year.
Your worst enemy?
Wisconsin
What is your current desktop picture?
Since I am sharing a desktop with my father's work, it is some wierd digital swirly thing. My desktop at home has dragons on it.
What was the last thing you said to someone?
"You just said it's not nice, Kyra." To my brother.
If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to fly what would it be?
Definitley flying. What use would I have for a million bucks?
Do you like someone?
No. I hate the entire world.
The last song you listened to?
Hm. I think it was For the Sake of Revenge by Sonata Arctica

forgetmenot

Well I was reading Amelia's blog just now. I love how reading her blog inspires me to write other blogs almost every time. She was talking about knowing herself, and how she trusts--or, well, doesn't trust--people.
At first I was thinking that I'm exactly the opposite. I trust everyone, right? There are no secrets about me that at least five other people don't know. I'm very open with my past, with my feelings. I suppose that's kind of risky buisness, but I think that people know me best when they know where I'm coming from, and how I'm feeling.
But then I realized that Amelia--and Leah, for that matter--and I are not so different underneath the secrets we do and don't keep. I try to ignore it, but I'm always suspicious of people. I don't trust their friendship, I don't trust their motives. Do they really like me or are they just pretending? I know for a fact that I'm a fair judge of most people--though exceptions do come to mind. But I can't get over this deep-ingrained (is that correct? I don't know. I'll go with it) fear that I can't trust anybody with my friendship. When people don't text me back, I immediatlely suspect it's because I bore them and they don't want to talk to me. When someone gives me a funny look I think it's because they really don't like me. When I see people but they don't see me, I think it's because they're ignoring me.
I know for a fact that most times, none of that is what is actually happening. Most of the time, people really do like me. But it still always shocks me. The first example that comes to mind is during SOS--that's the talent show, for those of you that are unaware. I was talking to three of the Encore Players--one of which I was fully under the impression didn't like me (he's one of those people I really can't read all that well). I was explaining about my phone being chucked out the back of the bus by someone utterly to self-obsessed to get over an old hatred of me. There are people that truly hate me, and they are all the ones who haven't gotten over it. I think I'll tell that story in a later blog. I told these three EP's very briefly that yes, there are people out there that have issues with me, and I know it. They aren't often very public about it--at least not anymore--so I don't tend to talk about it. But all three of them pressed me for details (that I didn't give) because they wanted to "give them a beating". These three made a general agreement that it was absurd for anyone to hate me, I was too...something along the lines of awesome...for that. The one that I suspected not to like me even said goodbye to me later on by calling me "a star". It was kind of a WHOA moment for me. Not only were they big, mighty people on the theatre department totem pole, they were people that I looked up to. And people that had flat out told me that they liked me. That kind of thing always blows me away. People, in my mind, don't like me. They don't trust me. There is only one person in the world that I know for a fact is my real friend, and I don't know what I would do without her.
This feeling of not being liked, not being attractive enough or worthy enough for other people is probably what let me to date Braden, come to think of it. If you don't know that story, I will tell it along with the one about the source of my fear of being disliked. As Leah said, this fear comes from childhood.

I also wanted to mention one more thing in this slowly-becoming-an-epic-of-a-blog blog. Encore Players. These guys are the people that EVERYBODY in the theatre department knows. They're the big-shots, the fancy-pants, the "populars". These people have always had an aura of perfection, of elite-ness to me. Actually, to pretty much everybody. And I've suddenly found myself one of them. I couldn't tell you how the hell it happened, but somehow it has. And I keep thinking, do people look at me the way they look at the other Encore Players? Do I have that aura of being above it all and elite? And I can't help but hope that I don't. Because it's still me. I'm still dorky, out-of-control, and utterly unable to control the things I say. I'll still make mistakes. And I'll still have my old friends. I kid you not, a friend of mine said goodbye to me because she thinks I won't be her friend now that I'm in Encore. I know that was a bit dramatic of her, but still. The thought that people will look up to me, respect me, think I'm so utterly unreachable as a friend that they won't even try, kind of scares me. People aren't even supposed to like me, remember? And suddenly I'm faced with the thought of being practically revered. I know that's how EP is looked at, so nobody deny it. But I can't imagine being revered. It's just...wrong somehow. I'm the one everybody hates. You can deny that too, but I'll always suspect it. But I've somehow found myself among the elite of the theatre.


Okay, I've gotta end that. Not only could I go on forever, but I also really hate thinking about social stucture this late at night--trust me, it's later here than it is there. Maybe we'll all just get over ourselves and be friends with everybody..... Yeah. I wish.

Sigh. Well, goodnight my dears. I shall see you all again in eighteen days.
Iloveyou.

Say yes to pull the trigger.

HI LEAH!!


So I'm sitting here on the porch looking at a pontoon boat going past. This is where I can get the best view of the lake (besides on the hammock, but there aren't any plugs for my laptop charger there). "The lake" is what we call it, but it's really Lac Courte Orilles. That's French or something for 'lake of the short ears'. There's an Indian tribe that used to live here that cut their earlobes off, which is where the name came from. I suppose I can't say they 'used to live here', because they still kind of do. There's a reservation a few miles east, and I imagine they still have access to the lake, because where we are is the far west part. And this lake is about five miles long.
You wanna know something creepy? There is a dead body lost in this lake. The man drowned on the other side, and they still haven't been able to find him. I am swimming with dead men. That should be a song or something.

Last week, I was in Chicago. I didn't see that much of the city at all, because my cousing got sick. Besides, I've seen Chicago before, so it wasn't that big of a deal. We went directly in to the Museum of Science and Industry. Don't ask me why, but that is the museum hosting Harry Potter: The Exhibition. You guys had all better hope it comes to Colorado, because it's pretty much the coolest thing in the world. And that's all I'm going to say about that.

Okay, so I don't really have much of a desire to steal Leah's bullet-point system, but I think today I'm going to have to, I just have so much random stuff to say. Sorry love monkey!

• So bullet system reminds of a Flyleaf song I listened to about fifteen times last night. The song is called Cassie and the part of the song it reminds me of is "Do you believe in God? written on a bullet." Don't ask me why, it just does.
• I am in so much pain right now, you don't even know. I have a killer sunburn on my back, arms, and face. And when I say 'killer', I'm not exaggerating at all. It hurts like a bitch.
• While I was in Chicago, I decided I was going to get a rook peircing. My mom approves, so I'll get it when I come home. A rook, by the way, is a peircing through the cartilage shelf of the ear.
• I'm getting a new phone.
• HAPPY BIRTHDAY LEAH AND AMELIA! I HOPE YOU REMAIN FOURTEEN FOREVER.
• I keep wanting to hold somebody's hand. I don't know why. And it isn't a specific somebody, just somebody.
• Black rasberries grow near here, and if they aren't ripe yet, I'm going to have to kill somebody.
• I found an awesome peice of driftwood, and I'm going to keep it.
• I'm going to the Mall of America on Thursday.

I don't have any philosophical thoughts today, I'm sorry. I suppose I will leave you with the promise of tomorrow, and the promise that tomorrow will bring me one day closer to coming home.

I love you, and I hope you still love me too.

Tuesday's With Kyra's Mind 1.0

So Leah posted this survey on her blog, and like the little theif I am, I will fill it out on mine. Minus everything relating to Myspace because I never use it. Aren't I just awesome? I think I'm going to make an annual Tuesday Survey, once or twice a month. You know why? I really enjoy taking these. It makes me feel more connected to myself. I mean, it makes me truly think about who I am, my opinions of things, my existence amongst all you people. I will sometimes do these without actually posting them anywhere. I'll save them as diary entries of sorts. So if I post them on here, I won't be quite so much of a loser. And you guys can see my re-connection to self, or whatever. Anyhow, here goes:

Could you go the rest of your life without drinking alcohol?
I would imagine that I could if I really wanted to. As of right now, I think it would be easy. But maybe in the future, in social situations, it might be harder not to. Like wine with dinner or such.
How do you feel about big trucks?
Um. Depends on the big truck. Like a big pickup? I've always wanted to drive one of those. A big Hummer like truck? Those are gigantic, air polluting, enormous, pointless, and the result of some sort of egotisical desire to show everybody on the road that you can afford a giant, gas guzzling, rolling, metal box. Or a semi truck? For my opinion on that, read the blog I posted a while ago.
Does anything hurt on your body right now?
My back and my butt. Every chair in this house is uncomfortable.
Do you act more silly or serious?
Well. I act silly a lot. But I can be very good a serious if I have to be, or want to be.
What's your name without the letters a, b, c, x, y, or z?
Kr Mrie Srimgeour
How often do you wear a belt?
Every time I wear jeans, I'm probably wearing a belt.
What is the last non-alcoholic beverage you had?
Squirt
What is the last thing you got in trouble for with your parents?
That sentence is so gramatically incorrect it makes me shudder. And I don't remember what I got in trouble for.
Do you have a secret that you've never told anyone?
Uh...not that I can think of. I don't really keep secrets about myself. Which is not to say I don't keep other's secrets. I just don't have any myself.
Who was the last person you were in a car with?
My mom, my bro, and my Aunt Joan
Are you wearing a ring, if so who gave it to you?
I'm wearing three. One was a gift to myself from myself, one was from my mom, and one I found in JC Penny and just kept. So I suppose it was a gift from JC Penny.
What was going through your mind during your last kiss?
"This is totally wierd, considering that I've never kissed anyone. And I won't have kissed anyone after this."
That was a lame attempt at making a joke about how I've never kissed anybody.
What show did you last watch?
Bugs Bunny
What was the last meal you ate?
Well...I had a hot pocket. And that was it. So I guess lunch.
Do you give special ringtones to certain people?
I don't even use ringtones. My phone is always on vibrate.
Have you ever seen a 3D movie in theaters?
No, actually.
Where'd you get everything that you're wearing?
As I said, JC Penny, my mom, the Renissance Festival, Party America, the Bahamas (thanks Shelby!), someplace I don't know about, my grandparents, the Hard Rock Cafe, Elitches, and Kohls.
Just so everybody knows, that includes jewelry.
Have you memorized your social security number?
Hahahaha, no.
Would you ever consider having a relationship with your best guy friend?
Well. I don't know. I don't think it would ever actually happen, so I don't imagine that it's something I should have to worry about.
What's your favorite color to wear?
Black. Or other similarly dark colors.
Do you think girls & guys can be friends without anything happening?
I think I'm a living example of how much of a joke that statement is.
Do you like cookies?
Do you NOT like cookies?
If so, fresh baked cookies or hard cookies out of a box?
The only hard cookies I like are those tube ones. Otherwise, always fresh baked.
Have you ever kissed someone in a bathroom?
Well, I've kissed a girl on the cheek in the bathroom. It was one of those, she was crying and I couldn't make her feel better type things. And yes, I do that. So warn me if you don't want me to.
What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night?
Played Sodoku.
Have you ever broken someone's heart?
I highly doubt it.
Believe in love at first sight?
I believe in lust at first sight.
Ever kissed in the rain?
No...but I wish.
Which of your friends lives closest to you?
Uh. Sarah, I think. But only sometimes.
What are you listening to?
The World At Large--Modest Mouse
Do you think relationships are ever really worth it?
I do. You generally learn and grow as a person when in a relationship. At least from what I've observed.
Where do you wish you were right now?
Pretty much anywhere but here. Chicago. Door County. Minneapolis. Home. Basically, the future.
How many girls do you trust?
A fair few.
How many guys do you trust?
Most of the ones I'm friends with.
Do you curse in front of your parents?
Only on accident, or when I'm describing some sort of very uncomfortable physical condition that I'm in.
At what age do you want to be married?
I don't plan things quite that specifically. I will be married at whatever age it happens at.
Who was your last text from & what did it say?
I dunno. I haven't looked at my phone in a few hours.
What time did you go to sleep last night?
Late. Very very late.
What did you do yesterday?
Wow. This is embarrasing. I watched about four movies. And sat around and played Sodoku. And that's it.
How's your heart lately?
Fine. Nothing for me to be concerned about. It's beating normally, and pumping blood correctly, and the doctor says I don't have a heart murmur or anything.
Have a bruise from the opposite sex?
I have had them in the past. But not currently.
Did you dream of anything last night?
Yeah, but I don't remember it. Which is totally weird.
Ever had your heart broken?
No.
Do you look your age?
People always think I'm older than I am...so I guess not.
What do you want right now?
to go kyaking.
Have you ever thought you were gonna die?
Yeah. I thought I was going to drown. I got caught in the undertow of a wave going back to sea.
How do you feel about girls/guys smoking?
What's specific about it being a guy or a girl? I think it's generally a nasty habit. But I understand it.
Were you happy when you woke up today?
Not at all.
What was the first thing you did when you woke up?
Checked the sheets, then took a shower.
Whats on your schedule for tomorrow?
I'm going to someplace near some island, possibly with my cousin.
Do you miss anyone?
I miss a whole lot of people right now. Pretty much everyone.
Do you ever think about someone and start crying?
Only when I'm trying to use it as a tear trigger...for acting and such.
Have you ever liked someone older than you?
Yes, most definitley. I think it's very rare that I like someone my age.
What did you do this weekend?
I don't remember. Watched a lot of movies, probably.
Whats the last thing you ate?
a cinnamon candy thing

I'm living in an hourglass. Locked away from the world, with time passing as my only concern. But I think this hourglass is broken. Because time isn't passing. You know I've only been gone a week and half-ish? Feels like I should be coming home. But I won't be for another month. And the sand in the hourglass just won't fall. Everyone outside my hourglass is mocking me for not being a part of real life. But it isn't my fault. It's not my choice.

I think I'll just have to accept that I'm here. And I should try to enjoy it. It's not everyday that a person gets trapped in an hourglass after all.

And on to another thought. Leah, on her blog, was talking about how she is always black and white. I commented on her post that I find that I am always the gray area. And I began type-thinking, on the comment, about how we ended up that way. What was it her past that made her black and white? What made me gray? Could we have somehow gone back and changed it?

Then I hit upon the idea of God. Leah is a firm believer. And all the power to her, I stand in awe of someone with such conviction. I, on the other hand, cannot find God. Not in the church at least. I am...well. Elsewhere. With my own opinions. Or not opinions. This makes me wonder. Does that have anything to do with her black and white and my gray? The difference in our beliefs, I mean? But then. That brings the whole religion thing into play. It is a constant wonder of mine how much faith changes who you are, how much it shapes your foundation. But then it comes to me, could it be your foundations that shape your faith?

And such thoughts usually lead me to: Who the hell am I to question the universe anyhow? I'm just a germ on a speck of a planet in a speck of solar system in one of hundreds of thousands--maybe more--of galaxies. I am nothing, therefore I should question nothing.

But then, it's like fuck the universe and nothingness. I can question whatever I want whenever I want however I want. Right? Isn't that what makes me human? Humanity is questioning, growing, becoming new and learning new things. Then I remind myself that that's we got the world so messed up in the first place. Which brings me back to, if it's people that messed up the world, then why should I keep thinking? Be one less to screw us all over. But I could be one more to save us, comes my next contradiction.

It goes on and on. I'll leave it there though. I suppose it's late, and I'm tired. *sigh*

Goodnight, loves. Goodnight, love. Perhaps you won't forget me while I'm gone. Because, love, I haven't forgotten you.

Of Dreams, Metal Music, and Juicy Couture

Ever since I got to the fantastic land of muskies and forests, I've been having this weird sleep thing going on. I don't get to sleep until extraordinarily late, as per usual. However, something unusual has started happening. I have been dreaming. Which sounds all like premnintiony or something, but really it's just odd. I don't dream. But when I do, I have some of the strangest dreams you could possibly imagine. Like, during Seussical, I constantly dreamed about Dave's cummerbund (which, incidentially, he asked me about as a joke, but I really was dreaming about it) eating me, or becoming strange creatures and singing songs about Dave's dyed eyebrows. Not lying.
Anyhow, I had this dream last night. Not the one about the cummerbund. Well, the cummerbund was in it, as has become tradition in my dreams. But it was a different dream. It had all these power metal refrences and that Asain guy from DragonForce was my brother's biological brother, which was cool. He told me to call him Hermie...which I thought was weird while I was dreaming. My brother grew his hair out and started playing metal. Not surprising since he's naturally started doing that screamo voice--though he didn't know it until I told him. But the other parts of the dream (involving newly shaved Chap theatre boys requesting that I marry their mother) was unimportant.
The important part? Hermie--my bro's bro, in the dream--was not such a wierd thing to request to be called. Because I looked the guy up. His name is Herman. No joke.
I was also wearing Juicy Couture throughout the whole thing, which is so unlike me it hurts. Have you ever considered the phrase Juicy Couture? What an oxymoron. And how desperate is it to plaster 'Juicy' all over your ass and boobs? Desperate. Ugh. If anybody ever catches me in Juicy, I permit them to shoot me. My boobs are plenty juicy without having to advertise it. And that sentence probably made my week.

This post is also on my Facebook, for advertising purposes, in case anybody is curious.

Welcome to Hayward.

Hayward, Wisconsin, more specifically. What makes Hayward special? It is home to the world's largest fish-shaped building. Yeah, not lying to you. It's the Fishing Hall of Fame. And hot damn, are there some big fish out there.

Anyhow, this is where I am right this second. In an ice cream shop. With Wi-Fi. I'm actually staying about half and hour away, in the middle of the woods. Well, okay. It's on a lake. But that lake is in the middle of the woods. It's called Lac Courte Orillies, which is a pretty name for a pretty lake. But that's about it. I'm taking pictures for you guys :)

Okay. Now onto something that I came across in a book called The Little Book of Venom. It's a quote from Baudelaire--a French poet. It goes:

"What is art? Prostitution."

I can't quite decide if there's somthing wrong with me that I'm so attracted to quotes involving prostitution, but there it is. Oh well. Anyhow, this is something that I actually thought about for a good half an hour. I think what it means is that, by selling your art, you are selling yourself. I agree with the concept...but not the whole 'prostitution' thing. Because selling yourself in the form of art is good. Selling yourself in the form of prostitution is bad. Well, okay. Worse than bad. But the severity of the crime of prostitution is not my point. Is selling art, which is practically selling the fiber of your being, like prostitution? I don't think so.

Hum. That's all I have today. I probably won't update until Thursday...my apologies. Hope you are all doing well!

The Interstate sucks.

I hate hotel pools--undersized and overchlorinated.

Anyway, I was kind of hoping to make that into some sort of metaphor...but I couldn't think of anything. I suppose I'm a bit braindead after all the highway driving. The thing that sucks about driving on the interstate for looonnnggg stretches is that you don't have room to think. You spend hours on end doing nothing but trying to keep the steering wheel pointing forward without swerving into the other lanes, and maintaining speed. I'm driving along, wishing that I could zone out and start thinking something interesting, but I can't. The only thing I can think about is the road ahead--and let me tell you, it really isn't that interesting of a road. The most interesting part of the drive? Trying to get past a line of five semi trucks.
And another thing. Why are semis called 'semi'? Normal car-trucks are about fifty bazillion times smaller than semis. And they're just called trucks. The semi should be the car-trucks, and the car-trucks should be called semis.
That is my rant.
I don't know when I'll have internet access again.
So you guys have fun with life while I'm gone--perhaps you should text me if you miss me :)

Mary was the type of girl, she always liked to fly.

I haven't updated this in a while. I feel kinda bad...but not really. You might have noticed that I have changed the title of my blog to This is the Life on Mars. If you recognize that song, score one for you. If you don't, it's from Buddha for Mary by 30 Seconds to Mars. I listened to nothing else this weekend--30 Seconds to Mars, that is. I listened to other songs of course. But my favorite of theirs will always be Buddha for Mary. And yes, I'm about to post the song on here. Listen to it before you read on, and I'm sorry it's a bit long. But it's worth the five-ish minutes, I swear.



So I don't know why that strikes me so much. I mean, duh, it's supposed to be striking. It is about rape and not believing in God and all. But stuff like that doesn't usually hit me that hard. Especially when you think about the other kinds of music I listen to...and I won't torture your lovely ears with that. And yet.

SUNDAY I find myself sitting on the very top of the roof of the play structure at the playground by my house. By myself. Trust me, it's a long way up. I can see pretty damn far. And I'm listening to Buddha for Mary. And crying. If you know me at all, you know that crying isn't something I do. Emotion in general isn't something I do. But there it is. Me. Crying. It could have had somthing to do with the gray clouds, or my lonesomeness, or my confusion about a whole lot of things, or the fact that I was twenty feet off the ground.

But what I really think is that the combination of religion, rape, and it being the story of a girl that I somehow relate to that made the tears. I'd really like to discuss this experience with someone willing to give me their ears...and trust. I've got plenty of time for the next month.



Anyhow, that is the story of the blog title change. We'll see how long it lasts before I become too depressed by it.

Creepy fish make me happy.

A friend request sent by a friend of mine, to a different friend of mine, niether of whom know the other.
She said he was a purple leprechaun, had heard he was a creepy fish, and that she was also creepy so they should be friends.
It made my day. And today is only a half hour old.
I sure hope he accepts the friend request, because it was endlessly hilarious.

"My dear I lie for you, but when I lie down I'm simply lying to them too."

I heard someone say once that we are all whores, and we are all selling ourselves to society. I wonder how much truth there is in that? I'll have to find the exact quote. Because it's really very striking. I think it's even more striking that society has gotten to a point where a member of it can compare herself to a whore, but in a completely intelligent heavy metal sort of way. If that makes any sense at all. Because it's the epitome of the opening to a metal song...but also has some real substance behind the concept.

Thoughts, anyone?

Music is playing to an empty room...

A favorite song from a favorite band. I would rant at you about how all the elements of this song combine to make an emtionally and sensually stunning piece...but I'll just let you enjoy.





P.S. This song, The Inquiry of Ms. Terri, is on The Dear Hunter's first album/more like an EP, Act I: The Lake South, The River North. Their second album, which is much longer is called Act II: The Meaning of, and All Things Regarding Ms. Leading. But the point of this P.S. is to tell you that their new album, Act III: Life and Death will release SATURDAY!!
The albums are acts--obviously--in a six-segment rock-opera about 'the boy'. I love it like you wouldn't believe, and so I had to share it with you.

A bit of theatrical culture.

Singing for my Theatre III class tomorrow will most likely be an utter disaster. But I might do it anyway. Just so long as I make sure everybody promises not to laugh at me. And I'll redeem myself afterward with a very awesome monolouge. I'm pretty good at those...

I was going to do one from A Hard Day's Journey Into Night, but I haven't read the whole thing. I think that might be a problem. So I'm going to pull from my monolouge from my Encore audition. That one is from A Streetcar Named Desire...my second-favorite drama. I read it for my sophomore research paper, and hated the paper. But I love the play. It's a little...shocking, I suppose. At least for its time. But then, so was Death of a Salesman. That one is my favorite drama. I also read that in English class. Willy Loman is probably one of the most fascinating characters. Plus the way the entire play is infected with Willy's insanity makes me immensely happy. If you haven't read either of those plays, I think you should drop everything you are doing and go read them.

Or, preferably, see them.

"The jungle is dark, but full of diamonds."

Anyway, the song I want to sing is from Parade, another favorite of
mine. I've only ever seen it once, but I want to see it again. I got all sorts
of chills watching it. If you don't know the story of Leo Frank, that's another one you should look up.

In between the lines.

I've been up for nearly two days, I finally finished my creative writing project, and I have nothing to say.

Oy.

Novacaine anyone?

I cannot feel the left side of my face. Gross.

So I just tried to puff out my cheeks and fill them with air, right? Yeah. Didn't work. I can't keep my lips shut!!!

I mean, granted it's much better than the excruciating pain I was in BEFORE they put the novaciane in...but it's still annoying.

I think there should be some sort of new natural selection type thing where humans will no longer be able to feel pain. I'm fairly certain that there would be quite a few more things that could go wrong then right with such a trait. But I would be totally fine with it.

Sleep? Me? Nah.

I've just finished listening to Waking the Fallen by Avenged Sevenfold for like the eighteenth time.

Exaggeration.

It was only the third. But that's okay. I find that screaming in the middle of the night is quite soothing. Perhaps I'm a nut case? I'll accept that.

There has never been any great genius without a spice of madness.

Seneca

But what is madness anyhow? Mad as a hatter. Is that a phrase? Huh.

Well it reminds me of my desire to read Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.

ANYWAY. Waking the Fallen. Avenged Sevenfold. I borrowed it from a boy with newly black hair and not-so-new purple pants. I'd never heard the album before, and was a bit skeptical. I have a tendancy not to trust albums that are considered the artist's 'Best Work'. But I must say, I quite approve of this one. Nice flow to the songs. If you're into this kind of stuff, which on occasion I can be, it's a good listen. My favorite song on it is 'Clairvoyant Disease'.

So now I leave you. Goodnight, sleep tight. Don't let the obscenely tattooed stud muffin bite.

floink.

Well. I did it.

You could say that I've wanted to create a blog for a long time. Or you couldn't. Not the point. But here it is.

Me.

Unscripted.

That's why, as of right now, it's called floink. It's occasionally a word I use when there are no other words. And there aren't any...I cannot come up a with a good name for this thing. Whatever. It's the content that counts, after all.

And that's all for now.