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phthalombrageWriting IS thinking.
I think I might just be pulling together more coherently. Mixed up in the Laptop Affair, I'm learning how to express things.
You can nod your head, follow along. You can say "I agree with Gina because she's loud." "I think so too." It's the easy way out. Consider the facts, formulate opinions, listen to what others say -- then you shall have your own little island to stand upon, and maybe a couple of coconut trees, so you can hold out on the others and laugh at them across the waves that muffled their disagreement, wiping the spray out of their piercing eyes. They don't have to agree about everything. Things will happen and be interesting, but to derive full benefits, you have to get involved.
The most important event of the past year was scootering to FLEX. I never got to the actual event because we had 14 minutes and I got caught up in the background, but basically my mom is a jerk. For a reason I've forgotten, I was grounded. My dad yelled. At a certain time ( I remember seeing the dgits on the microwave display) I decided that I wasn't going to be driven, so I put on a sportsbra, flip flops, black pants, and the pink barren shirt and left on a scooter. The scooter sucked to use and took forever. The street was bumpy and jolted my body. Broken glass was strewn in the gutters. I literally ran across a runover snake in a part of Linwood which was then without sidewalks. Cars rushed by narrowly, pine cones dotted the grass, all hazards for the small green roller-skate wheels. I had no bike, so what was I supposed to do? It was slightly better than walking. I barely knew where I was going. I used my memory and perception. I battled the heat. I thought of being abducted. I almost woudn't have minded. A guy on a gas powered scooter whizzed by as if mocking me. I crossed busy streets, combatted the wind rush from fast-passing traffic. When I arrived at the parking lot, I had scraped my knee on the pavement, broken a flip flop, and was covered with sweat. People were waiting outside. My mom had called or something. I had also feared that she would come in her van and pick me up as I scootered. I wanted to come and say why I was absent. Recital was in about five weeks. My mother did not see that I NEEDED to go to class. I got yelled at in the parking lot, in the car, and at home, but my world was open to exploration. In the summer I would travel to FLEX by bike several days. It also made my mom hate me more than ever. I felt more independent. I felt like a teenager. The people at dance didn't understand why. I became more estranged from them. etc. etc.
At the trunk of the car I recalled that the gas station man had stammered, "er... boy."
People in my programming class are nerdy but pretty cool. Ironic, but I'm a bucket of fish with jasper eyes?
Tay left. I don't think she likes me as much. I wanted to leave but was asked to sit so I talked to Erich and Nemal. Nemal rested his arm on my shoulder for a bit, which was Weird. Anecdotes about Howie's, the "fire" at Aunt Lynn's, picture frames, drug dealers, psychotic freaks. I don't care to associate myself with them. The stories flow easily. Vincent was exploring his screwed-up computer. He makes me want to read the Communist Manifesto. I recalled McCracken's class. He was pissy but not scary like Myers. He's pretty nice. He repeats himself like my dad does when he's drunk, continuing to talk and gesticulate. He made a detailed map by pointing his finger. (St. John's River is useful knowledge.) Some Nazi-like salutes came too. But thank the anti-Satan he repeated himself, cos he said the two main causes of death on wagon trains were death and accidents. Later "death 2" changed to "disease." HENRIETTA MARIA WAS FRENCH HA. Also of note.. Bacon was an ANtagonist to Berkeley. Speaking of Bacon, the wagon trains dumped old crap places to lighten the load. People would find big slabs of bacon, cut off the mold, and eat them. They were scavengers. "aged steak" is made this way too. It's tender... I said hey, I do the same thing at work, except with tomatoes! I was the only one around me taking notes. My observations helped me seem knowledgeable when talking to Liz and Noah at Barnes and Noble. My brother browsed the music section, came over, and stood awkwardly silent. I was holding a book of William Blake poetry in my right hand. Jamie Dyal has a strange beard. Taylor would be jalouse. Walmart candy wasn't sour enough.
I was at B/N last weekend too and thought I heard my name called as I exited. It might have been Jamie. I realised this after Jon Easey told me he saw him there. Weird. Maybe I'm paranoid though. I can always hear the second phone ringing at work... Jon visited Jojo during Progressives Club, where I remembered TM's appearance and such very well later. Jon's thrilled that we have a GSA. awww.
Some guy jumped in front of my car in the dark and "Scared " me "Shitless." I rather dislike driving with people around. Linwood in the dark is nice, though. Karr used to model hats. There's no air in here. *cough.*
Made a thing for Interact/ Media Intern.The latter will also be published in Pine Views with a >_< photo. Damn you rescinding the digicam. Summer passed like fricking canned foam. I've only had my license for two weeks. The Neon needed numerous repairs and is still moldy inside. Petrified lizard ghost.
comme de longs échos qui de loin se confondent, j'aurai encore envie d' être en vie.
BIZOUXXXXXXXEighteen
I think I might just be pulling together more coherently. Mixed up in the Laptop Affair, I'm learning how to express things.
You can nod your head, follow along. You can say "I agree with Gina because she's loud." "I think so too." It's the easy way out. Consider the facts, formulate opinions, listen to what others say -- then you shall have your own little island to stand upon, and maybe a couple of coconut trees, so you can hold out on the others and laugh at them across the waves that muffled their disagreement, wiping the spray out of their piercing eyes. They don't have to agree about everything. Things will happen and be interesting, but to derive full benefits, you have to get involved.
The most important event of the past year was scootering to FLEX. I never got to the actual event because we had 14 minutes and I got caught up in the background, but basically my mom is a jerk. For a reason I've forgotten, I was grounded. My dad yelled. At a certain time ( I remember seeing the dgits on the microwave display) I decided that I wasn't going to be driven, so I put on a sportsbra, flip flops, black pants, and the pink barren shirt and left on a scooter. The scooter sucked to use and took forever. The street was bumpy and jolted my body. Broken glass was strewn in the gutters. I literally ran across a runover snake in a part of Linwood which was then without sidewalks. Cars rushed by narrowly, pine cones dotted the grass, all hazards for the small green roller-skate wheels. I had no bike, so what was I supposed to do? It was slightly better than walking. I barely knew where I was going. I used my memory and perception. I battled the heat. I thought of being abducted. I almost woudn't have minded. A guy on a gas powered scooter whizzed by as if mocking me. I crossed busy streets, combatted the wind rush from fast-passing traffic. When I arrived at the parking lot, I had scraped my knee on the pavement, broken a flip flop, and was covered with sweat. People were waiting outside. My mom had called or something. I had also feared that she would come in her van and pick me up as I scootered. I wanted to come and say why I was absent. Recital was in about five weeks. My mother did not see that I NEEDED to go to class. I got yelled at in the parking lot, in the car, and at home, but my world was open to exploration. In the summer I would travel to FLEX by bike several days. It also made my mom hate me more than ever. I felt more independent. I felt like a teenager. The people at dance didn't understand why. I became more estranged from them. etc. etc.
At the trunk of the car I recalled that the gas station man had stammered, "er... boy."
People in my programming class are nerdy but pretty cool. Ironic, but I'm a bucket of fish with jasper eyes?
Tay left. I don't think she likes me as much. I wanted to leave but was asked to sit so I talked to Erich and Nemal. Nemal rested his arm on my shoulder for a bit, which was Weird. Anecdotes about Howie's, the "fire" at Aunt Lynn's, picture frames, drug dealers, psychotic freaks. I don't care to associate myself with them. The stories flow easily. Vincent was exploring his screwed-up computer. He makes me want to read the Communist Manifesto. I recalled McCracken's class. He was pissy but not scary like Myers. He's pretty nice. He repeats himself like my dad does when he's drunk, continuing to talk and gesticulate. He made a detailed map by pointing his finger. (St. John's River is useful knowledge.) Some Nazi-like salutes came too. But thank the anti-Satan he repeated himself, cos he said the two main causes of death on wagon trains were death and accidents. Later "death 2" changed to "disease." HENRIETTA MARIA WAS FRENCH HA. Also of note.. Bacon was an ANtagonist to Berkeley. Speaking of Bacon, the wagon trains dumped old crap places to lighten the load. People would find big slabs of bacon, cut off the mold, and eat them. They were scavengers. "aged steak" is made this way too. It's tender... I said hey, I do the same thing at work, except with tomatoes! I was the only one around me taking notes. My observations helped me seem knowledgeable when talking to Liz and Noah at Barnes and Noble. My brother browsed the music section, came over, and stood awkwardly silent. I was holding a book of William Blake poetry in my right hand. Jamie Dyal has a strange beard. Taylor would be jalouse. Walmart candy wasn't sour enough.
I was at B/N last weekend too and thought I heard my name called as I exited. It might have been Jamie. I realised this after Jon Easey told me he saw him there. Weird. Maybe I'm paranoid though. I can always hear the second phone ringing at work... Jon visited Jojo during Progressives Club, where I remembered TM's appearance and such very well later. Jon's thrilled that we have a GSA. awww.
Some guy jumped in front of my car in the dark and "Scared " me "Shitless." I rather dislike driving with people around. Linwood in the dark is nice, though. Karr used to model hats. There's no air in here. *cough.*
Made a thing for Interact/ Media Intern.The latter will also be published in Pine Views with a >_< photo. Damn you rescinding the digicam. Summer passed like fricking canned foam. I've only had my license for two weeks. The Neon needed numerous repairs and is still moldy inside. Petrified lizard ghost.
comme de longs échos qui de loin se confondent, j'aurai encore envie d' être en vie.
BIZOUXXXXXXXEighteen
