I totally forgot.....
HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! I wish you the best in 2003. One more year and goodbye to HIGH SCHOOL! WoohooooooooooO!

Another Sexy

I have a new celebrity crush. No one can ever beat my Vince, still, though. Anyway, he is Michael Ealy. I just saw Barbershop, which is why I'm bringing this up...wow that kid is cute. Guess what. He has a degree in English. How sexy is that?

I wanna kick some ass

I'm here in Vacaville. I'm talking to my cousin's friend. She is as bitch. I would like to kick her ass and then some. This is hardcore anger. Really, I'm afraid I might KILL THAT BITCH. I want her to disappear into oblivion and never bother us again. Who the fuck IMs someone they hate first? What the fuck is that? What kinda people bring those MISTAKES into this world? I am afraid that if I saw her, I might kick her ass and then.....you can figure it out. I'm feeling very ____cidal right now and I genuinely want to kick this BITCH'S ASS. Goddamn. Fuck this bitch.

The Day After

I've been gone for a long time. No, I wasn't away, I was still in the country. In fact, I was still in San Jose. Just...busy, is all. I'm babysitting for most of the break so I'm using that to explain my absence. Plus...studying for finals and all that CRAP. I hate school with a fury that can only be detained in a little green book that I call a journal. Speaking of that journal, thanks Alex for buying me a new one, the Little Green Book is running out of pages for me to write in. I'm grateful.

So, I just read The Lovely Bones thanks to Vanessa (my secret Santa, thanks). Its a great book. Maybe I'm a little late; this book has been hovering for a long time now. Anyway, its good. I think that it tops my favorite book list and I've read a lot of books. You don't understand...this book had me CRYING...you know, that quiet sobbing you do when you're in so much emotional pain that you can't restrain it or repress it. Yes, I cried. That's how moving it was. That's how good it was. That book is forever in my head. I wonder what heaven is like....I want to live in that book, there is love in the binding of those pages.

Day after Christmas. I'm glad to report that my Christmas was a-okay. At first, I was pretty pissed off because what I was wearing made me look like a granny (you'd love to see that wouldn't you? Too bad.), but then I got in the spirit. My mom's-side-cousins and I watched Minority Report on VHS before opening presents. I watched that during the summer. Pretty good movie for a Tom Cruise flick. I like that part when he's talkin about Huckleberry Finn near the end...that part is so retarded. I received a lot of money....a CD...no, more CDs....2 sweaters....and...more clothes I think. After that, we went to our Dad's mom's house. It was the first time we had it there in....a couple years. I miss it. I liked having it there. I liked opening presents there. My cousins are all growing up now...its freaky. Hmm...Yeah....I liked it...then we went home and my mom, dad, sister, and I took pictures and opened the presents we gave each other. It was fun. It was the most fun I remember having with them in a long time...and this only took an hour. I wanted to freeze that time because it was different...in all the hours of the 365 days of the year...that one is my favorite I think.

So today, I'm wishing you a belated Merry Christmas. On New Year's, I'll be sure to do it on time.

Highlight of my day:

My mom actually said that I probably need Anger Management. How fuckin punk rock is that shit?

Everyone likes the cream part of the Oreo, let's just get that straight.

I am sifting through the contents of my Blog. Here is an index that I come up with:

Stuff I consider Funny:
---Seventh Heaven is not my God.
---Adventures of the HOLY Variety
---Me. A good parent?
---Comments. Use them.
---Brief like Hanes
---Story Time
---Friggin Cows
---My Fro (or really a link to it.)
---What the FUCK?
---Get naked. No, please, get naked.
---Adventures of the Fro Girl: How I got my license...
---You suck. No, not you. You
---Some sort of meaning.
---The train
---Today, I fear Calculus
---Saturday
---Fred's Bib
---Loan's Webber
---My Vince
---Sexy Vince
---Ode to Punk Rock Josh
---Ode to Fred (wicked)

There's a lot more, but you know, LAZY, so I'll continue tomorrow. Thanks to all who've been here from the start.

Is it deep?

I want to write more poetry, but I lack skill to make bright, happy poems. I make poetry about killing myself when I don't feel like it. I write something about hurting when I'm not wounded. I can only produce words that are about pain, whether emotional or physical. Gashes in my soul do not heal. Yeah that last line was kind of stupid, but I won't erase it. I like pure shit. That's pure shit. Everytime I write poetry I cast a dark cloud upon myself and I don't know where the fuck it comes from. My mom is too protective to feed me some prozac, not even fake ones...what do you call 'em? Gazebos? I forgot...listening to the Xmas Chipmunks right now. Too cool. So rock and roll. Anyway, today all I can offer is poetry and this weakass entry.

Oh yeah, French Club is a cool club ::wink to Loan and Mary:: Good cake!

A letter to the Fallen.

I write this in the dim glow of an old lamp.

They called him a warrior--
A slayer of the wicked,
the aegis of the innocent,
defender of worldly values.
They thought him a hero.

They thought him happy--
With a smile that could illuminate the dark night sky
The incessant display of kindness
With the ability to perceive beauty in the dilapidated.

They considered him intelligent--
his urbane knowledge impressive,
a lexicon stored in his mind;
A walking library of wisdom.

This man they regarded in awe
As he walked humbly passed
As he carried the burden of Atlas
As he suffered, and they were oblivious.
In this man they could only see perfection,
A sight he could not recognize in himself.

They called him a warrior,
and fight,
he did.

They thought him happy,
because that is what seemed.

They considered him intelligent.

They thought they knew this man,
and for that
they could not figure out why;
why had this great man fallen?

I write this. The tragedy prevalent in so many people. The disease in us all. We are the Fallen.


Man, I still feel like a Whitman =)

Man, I feel like a Whitman.

Having a discussion in English class today, I discovered that many people do not find any point in Walt Whitman's works. Dude. Those are my works. I write like Whitman, as some of these blog entries prove true. I guess then I'm not destined for such popularity as a poet or writer. I'll just stick with my day job: pissed off teenager. I wrote a poem the other day and I thought I posted it, but it didn't post. It was about burning my insides. I think I was listening to angry music at the time...hmm...Well, today as I was listening to my EMO CD that I burned (want a copy?), the song, "Pride War" came on. That song rocks. Anyway, so I was listening to the song...and I thought of words. The words jumbled together and a poem resulted in my head. Wanna see it? If you don't, don't' scroll down, skip the rest of this entry. Don't like Whitman, I don't care. P.S. I can't believe I missed that Ultimate Fakebook show downtown on Saturday...I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself.

nyeh...i'm not in the mood for poetry. Gotta go read that damn Oprah Book Club book for that damn English class. Later all.

Nightmares

Tonight I will have nightmares about Emily Dickinson, Mrs. Mateer, and rain...dark dark skies...rainy dark skies...

Xmas

I must admit, though I might not want to, that nothing makes me feel cozier than listening to Christmas songs in the glow of Christmas lights, the background of Christmas ornaments and a decorated tree...Warmth. I love this season. Makes me feel like a better person for just loving it. Still playing the jazz: Ella Fitzgerald- Black Coffee. Gotta love a person so addicted that she has cigarettes with her black coffee every morning. And she still can belt it out. That's props right there, homie. I'm givin you props, lady. Oh yeah, just gave Ella Fitzgerald pretend props. Who's rad? I'm raaaaaad.

Trying

Now spinning: Ella Fitzgerald- Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered
It's not very punk rock at all. Neither is this rain, I think. I basically did nothing today. All I did was wake up, blog, eat, then watch movies with my little sister. She told me about her dance yesterday, which I didn't talk to her about yesterday since I was...in dreamland. Middle Schoolers are comedy. They're funny.

Speaking of dreamland, my dreams...I can't remember them. I remember being at my house...then going somewhere...school? No we went to a toy store in this ghetto place. It was like the flea market mixed with toys r' us. I was stealing basketball posters; a Bibby one for Christy, a Webber one for Loan and I couldn't find Vince. I was trying to steal them but there were cameras everywhere. They were those black orbs on the ceiling. They were everywhere and I was going to go find my sister to do it for me since she's slick like that. But then I guess I woke up and it was 3:something in the morning on a Saturday. Then I couldn't really go to sleep...I did, but it was like I was half-awake the whole time, I kept forgetting it was Saturday and was ready to dress up for school. I'm weird.

I guess I'm in one of my jazz moods because I've been listening to Ella Fitzgerald, Nat King Cole, Billie Holiday, Louis Armstrong, and Norah Jones for the past two hours. Its the rain, I think. The rain makes me think of those Romantic Comedies with Billy Crystal and they always have jazz music in it. Like L-O-V-E or something. I'm not sad, just nostalgic.

I wonder if I can link to archives...Pictures Did it work?

Long Sleep

Last night I slept at 6:30 p.m. woke up at 3:something in the morning on Saturday, wondered why the fuck I was still in my regular clothes, realized I never woke up from my nap, undressed, got dressed in my jammies, turned my radio on louder, and went to sleep. Woke up at 11:00 this morning. Someone tell me why I'm so tired.

I'm bored and I'm downloading emo songs

I like to listen to songs about sugar sweet things and hearts and hearts being broken and lemon lime beverages. To cloak the disillusionment in myself and display a fake punk rock entity (i wish). Songs dedicated to movie stars like Phoebe Cates and Harrison Ford. Bands with names based on Mr T or guys named Reggie. I like watching emo guys pour their hearts out in melodies...and looking at guitars in the stores. Entertaining the prospect of being in an emo band. I live in this world of emotion put into words in a mix of notes and chords. You can't escape this. It pulls you in. If I could write a song, I'd write it. And I'd get that dusty guitar in my room and play it. Then I'd round up a group of angsty teens and we'd create a band with me, a short Filipino girl. Try this. Close your eyes. Envision what could be. Go ahead, its fun and it hurts like a knife stabbing out your eyes.

Ode to Fred (wicked)
since Fred is equally as special (hey Fred)

There is a favorite crime fighter I know
and her name is Fred
She slays evil pineapples
and strikes mischief dead.

She maybe a genius in disguise
or just good at faking it
there is no doubt, though
that she is making it.

I know this kid named Fred
and I added a "wicked"
because it sounded punk rock
like a rad punk concert and you can't get a ticket. [hahaha]

This kid named Fred
who sits next to me in chem
we slay the evil-doing fruits
and then we eat them.

NOTE TO ALL: I hate to offend anyone since you all deserve a poem, so you feel offended by me not makin you a poem and would like one, just tell me and I'll apply my lyrical illness and we'll get some rad stuff goin'. Anyway, keep on keepin on yo.

Puberty

I was just thinking about Christmas. Every Christmas I get to see my family. I'm just wondering if this Christmas my little cousins will look all funny and awkward, with deep voices, peach fuzz on their chins, standing a little bit taller, and a hint of an adam's apple. That's so weird. Its weird to watch kids grow up. Especially kids that used to walk around in Power Rangers footsies and that used to play with that robot that played tapes...and wanted that tape recorder from Home Alone. It scares me. Scares me a lot. Its like, don't. Don't grow up. I don't like seeing it. Its creepy. To see them become the guys and ladies that I see around school and not the boys and girls that I used to pick up when I got off early. I wonder what mothers think. Do they like seeing this? I know my grandma gets this big grin on her face and says, "Wow..." with a knowing look; like we did something wrong and she knows about it. Its the magic of life I guess. We get fucked up, unhappy, stressed out, and every Christmas, we get less and less presents. Puberty never ceases to amaze me. I wonder if my little cousins will come back as strangers to me. I wonder if time will hold on a bit longer while I remember...

I'm angry with "time."

No, I'm not in the mood to rant about this day, because it was so damn slow I don't even want to talk about it. It just makes me really angry...this thing called "time"...who do you think are anyway, "time"? Do you think you can defeat us? Go ahead, try, use that "infinity excuse". Whatever. All I know is that I'm going to kick your ass if you don't go faster. Thank you.

the Punk Rockinest month of the year:

45% of people asked said December
27% said June
9% said October
9% said March
9% said February

Personally, I'd place the punk rockinest month of the year at April, just because it doesn't seem like an obvious choice. =)

It was a bad morning.

I thought today would be bad because of the rain this morning. It pretty much was. First period all we did was take notes. Third period we had that debate and I got pretty much beat. It was what I believed in, yet I was slow to defend it. So disappointed in myself. Fourth period was that fuckin Calculus test. I'm still crying. Fifth period was that fuckin test...and I got yelled at again. I don't know what it is. Do I send him bad vibes or something? Does it have something to do with my damn aura? --Wow I really must interject here because I'm listening to the radio and the chick talking sounds fuckin high, either that or damn stupid because there are big gaps between her words..and she's playin stupid songs grrrr---Anyway, sixth period I come in flip over some returned papers and Mrs. Mateer just parks herself in front of me:

Mateer: Congratulations. (smile)
Me: What? What do you mean? What are you talking about? (totally confused)
Mateer: You don't know. (looks at me as if I didn't know anything)
Me: Know what? No, I don't know.
Alex: The Martin Luther King contest!
Me: Is it---(Mateer nods)---wow!
Mateer: I think you won first...I'm trying to get Lambro on the phone blah blah blah
Me: (jump, walk out of the room in excitement) And I have a punk rock wallet too! (throw the wallet on the desk)

The highlight of my day. Wow, I just turned that in too...that was the day Mary and I saw those porn cards on the ground. Gee whiz, and I thought that poem fuckin sucked...surprises, I guess.

I drove to K-Mart, couldn't start the car, needed my dad to get me. It was me, not the car.

I'm so excited about the punk rock wallet though! Thanks, Josh. Joshua C. is the punk rockinest guy I've ever met. Case in point: duct tape wallets. Not that you invented them, but dude, that's just fuckin genius.


That's my punk rock wallet.

Now...

Ode to punk rock Josh
Punk rock Josh
Too cool for school
listens to music that makes you think
and make rap look a fool.

Punk rock Josh
he does the punk rockinest of things
super smart too
you know this guy is gonna bling.

Punk rock Josh
he's good at the blog
his wit can cut a sheet of metal
and makes your mind fog.

Punk rock Josh
you rock the casbah.
know really cool songs.
no master p. nuh nah nuh nah.

hahaha. There. My tribute to punk rock Josh.

my punk rockness spinning: Millencollin- Fingers Crossed

Question:

What is the most punk rockinest month of the year?

Long days kill the spirit.

Sitting here. Listening to Braid "Forever Got Shorter" and its making me sad. If I loved myself, I'd run downstairs and grab a beer or something. If I hated myself, I'd be doing homework. Since I neither love or hate myself, but am just in the middle, I am blogging. Blogging just isn't what it used to be. I have no idea what it is. Maybe I was a more interesting person two months ago or something; something worth bloggin about. No, scratch that, I was a fucked up person a month ago. Not that it goes away in a month or anything (because...it just fuckin doesn't, I'm looking at 5 years already...seems like yesterday it was 3...). But I promised that I wouldn't do any of the sad blogs anymore because I don't think anyone wants to read it. I know that I don't get the usual 1 comment for them.

The song has now changed to Saves the Day "Holly Hox Forget Me Nots" which makes me even more sad. I heard they were nazi skinheads! That's a bummer. I liked Saves the Day! They one of the first emo bands I ever got into and they were good until that "Stay What You Are" shit on Vagrant. Vagrant fucks everything up. I hate Vagrant. Enough. But skinheads! Gee whiz...my heart's broken...

Oh my Vince. I saw him in Slam today. He was the Slamdunkathamonth or whatever. Yeah, because he's fuckin sexy like that.

Sometimes...

---I feel like staying in the shower and washing everything away.
---I feel like doing homework.
---I want to run away from here.
---I wish I was talented.
---I wish I weren't me...that I was a different "I."
---I didn't care so much.
---I could just disappear, stop existing, or just simply step back and watch everyone while they forget me.
---The world seems like its falling apart.
---I can't fix what's broken.
---I feel smaller than I am.
---I don't want to go to sleep at night, I just want to stay up and remember the day.
---I want to skip to the good parts; use the fast-forward button.
---I want to do something that no one expect of me.
---I know that everything I want is the same as millions of people out there.
---The words of a good book stick with me and I try to live by them for about a week, realize I can't, then just write them down, and refer to them every now and then.
---Read books more than once.
---The music doesn't help to get you through.
---Talking it out just doesn't work.
---Friendship is about the last thing in the world you care about.
---Family is just a word and means nothing.
---Family is everything.
---Friends are everything.
---You feel like hugging everyone you see.

Sometimes I feel like making a list. Sometimes I feel like a list; succinct; not owing anyone an explanation because everything you need to know is plainly written.

Spinning at the moment (because I feel like biting and I wanna spread my flava: Sahara Hotnights- Only the Fakes Survive.

Sexy Vince

Last night I signed off and went to my room, turned on the TV, flipped around, and discovered that fate was feeling kind towards me; it was Beyond the Glory: Vince Carter. Wow, that's good shit. This man has dominated much of my recent entries. What began as a half-serious joke has now escalated to infatuation. Vince Carter is hot.

Reasons Vince Carter is rad:
1. His smile. I like his smile. Its very toothy. I like toothy smiles. It gives me butterflies. =)
2. He went back and got his degree. That does it for me. Education is sexy.
3. He said in the interview that he wants to go back and get his Master's. Even sexier.
4. He just seems like an overall stand-up guy (haha, how retarded was that?).

I was watching it again earlier today. Conversation with my mom:
Me: (point at the TV) Mom, that's my future husband.
Mom: (do that scrunchin up the face thing and turn away)
Me: That's my future husband.
Mom: That's your type?
Me: He plays basketball.

If you really want to make me happy, get me Vince Carter stuff for Christmas. I'll be your best friend forever.

Saturday

Wow. That's all I can say.

Today:
First time I drove alone. I went to the library to check out those friggin Oprah Book Club books for Mateer, but then left when I realized that she could have been referring to the school library since I did not see "the clipboard." Hmm...then I went to McDonald's to get my sister and cousin some fries because they asked me to. ::shrug:: haha

We went to Christmas In the Park. On the ride there my uncle told me to keep my 3-year-old cousin awake. So you know, of course, we had the usual mature, intellectual conversation: "Look at the lights, Miranda!" "No thank you, I don't want a cookie ::shoves it in my face:: No really, Miranda. ::pretend to go to sleep, snore loudly, Miranda laughs::. Then on the ride to the movies: "Let's sing a song!" (I said this. BAD IDEA because after I said this she kept saying, "Let's sing a song!") We sang Jingle Bells a record number of times, the Batman and Robin version as well, we also sang the ABC's and the Barney song. I really should be a kindergarten teacher. Case in point: as we sung the ABC's I thought I'd jazz it up a little so at the end I added a shaking of my hand and soulful "Hey!" hahaha

Saw Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. I have to admit, I've never read a book in the series, nor have I watched the first one yet. My sister did, though. But the movie was okay. I laughed at parts (like when the uncle was forbidding him to see his "freaky friends" and....there were more but I'm tired). Hot damn that's a friggin scary movie. I probably felt like screaming a couple times...

When we got home I had the urge to watch Rock-a-Doodle. You know? That movie with the singing rooster? That was one of my favorite films as a child....Ah...memories...

So. Recap? There you go. Have fun with that. And just because I feel like it...

The hotness known as "Vince."

Freeze.

I'm cold. I am wearing a fleece sweater over my regular sweater, my hood is, of course, on, I have a pair of regular pajama bottoms under my sweats. I am freezing still. I hate winter. Winter sucks.

What the hell happened?

When did my blog become an album? I didn't notice. But I was requested to do some shouts, so here ya'll go I'm gonna shout you out:

Loan, here is your sexy Chris Webber. There was a sexier picture of him, but I couldn't load it on my computer. Sucks. =(



I wanted to put a picture of him and Bibby hugging, but that wouldn't work either. I thought it was worth a laugh to presume stuff.


Mary:

A conversation I had with Mary today:
(Girl passes by)
Girl: EW! Did you just see that? There are porn cards on the ground!
(Mary and I peer down to see as we walk. I didn't get to see.)
Me: What is it man-porno or lady-porno?
Mary: Man-porno.
(I grit my teeth. The idea of checkin out some porno cards with pictures of dudes's schlongs is a bit stupid, dirty, retarded.)
Mary: They're not even fine, either...not like firemen.
Me: (laugh wildly at the firemen part) I'm going to quote you.

Originally, I planned to post a picture of a hot fire fighter on here, but I was lookin for some pictures and found nothing. ::shrug:: They're all pictures of middle aged firefighters with mustaches putting out fires in full uniform instead. Oh well. Sorry, Mary. I know you were looking forward to seeing a sexy fire fighter. But here...



He helps. He's a very sensitive person. Talk to him, go on. Who can be intimidated by his sexy look?

Whatever

During the day, I think of the greatest things to blog about. However, as the day progresses, and by the time I get to go on, the friggin ideas have fallen out of my damn head. Sucks great big meatballs dude. Anyway, I was reading through my journal (my regular, pen-to-paper one that I've had for two years and still haven't managed to fill), and I came across some funny stuff. Gee whiz, I'm neurotic. No really, you should read it (not that you will) but I speak of the funniest things. I must be a censor and stop right here with that =). I'll never tell.

Here is some shit:
October 5, 2001 [waiting for a ride to Got Image]
Dear Orange [because I can't bring myself to write, "Dear Diary"],
Home alone, feeling like an idle drone, nothing to do, but i'm in the zone. The world is spinning, but I"m not not. The world is cold, but I'm hot. Where these words come from, I know not. I'm just home alone, like an idle drone, nothing to do, but i'm in the zone. Listening to Fenix TX, thinking of today and what will come next, Track 2, listen, its the best. I'm waiting for a ride to the show, when they'll come, I really don't know. All I can do is wait upstairs, feeling like an idle drone, nothing to do, but I'm in the zone. Track 3 and I'm still here, waiting, Oh God, I hope they're near. They are, Bye. 6:56 PM -Vanessa

Here you go Fred(wicked) (Christy). Have fun! But I still say that Vince Carter rockinest rocker of the casbah.

This would be my sexy boyfriend Vince. Look at him. He makes me so happy. We're going to get married someday and have a big house in the Hamptons right after I get my Master's at Yale and get a job with a world-leading monopoly. Oh man...his sexiness makes me swoon ::swoon and fall to the ground:: =)

Days that end in why

I'm so tired. Today was the first day back to hell. I fell asleep right when I came home.

Oh, the other day when I wrote about Mr. Scary Bum and Jack-in-the-Box, I neglected to include that I saw a guy from the past. It was Kyle from Laneview. Remember him? He was the other Kyle because there were always two Kyles: Kyle Pjesky and Kyle Cort. The one, whom I am referring to is Kyle Cort, the kid who used to dip his carrots in his chocolate pudding just to gross me out. I remember him because his dad had come in for Career Day in second grade; he was in construction, I think. He brought a wooden model of something. Anyway, so I see this tall kid walking out Jack and his face makes me jump. At first, I didn't who the heck he was; maybe he reminded me of one of those singers of one of the bands I listen to, I don't know. He wore a band shirt, I think, and his hair was like a curly blonde mini-fro (because no one can do the fro like I can). I must say, whoa. You done good, Mister. You're lookin good with that whole Emo-guy look, and I ain't complainin. Very cute. ::blush:: The Emo-guy look is very rad. Very rad. Now that I've blushed for the day, I think I must go...keep on keepin on yo

I live for you

Sorry about the craziness I let myself blog yesterday. I was really tired and noticed that I had not blogged at all. Whatever.

I'm listening to this very synth song that makes me think that if I ever saw this band live, they would be wearing some very dirty mullets and Miami Vice-like apparel. Brings shivers. I want to be in a punk band, wear fishnet stockings without looking like an idiot, and pierce my eyebrow like the punk I wanna be. I must admit though, I cannot sing a lick, and I still need that chord chart to play my guitar...and even then I play slow. Whatever. Fantasies are fantasies right? I want to rock the casbah. I want to sit in a goddamn cafe like I used to and just chill. I want to write write write, but everytime I do my mom yells at me for some thing or the other. I want to drive, damnit, because my parents won't let me drive alone. I'm feeling extremely hostile, if you say Hi to me wrong I might hit you. Nah, but I love ya'll. Thanks for reading my blog. Even though...I don't know who reads my blog. Anyway, I must attend to academic obligations, like Chem homework. Damn Chemistry. "Chem is try" my ass. argh.