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[19 Feb 2007|02:38pm] |
Shopping for bathing suits on victoriassecret.com (or anywhere, really) is terribly depressing.
I don't recommend it if you have a full figure. Just go to the damn store.
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[16 Feb 2007|04:48pm] |
Hey. I'm home. I'm happy.
Contentment rules.
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[11 Feb 2007|08:07pm] |
I want my hair to curl in, not out.
Stupid fucking hair.
Stupid fucking lymphnode.
Stupid fucking school.
Stupid fucking future.
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[10 Feb 2007|09:33pm] |
sometimes it's kind of weird being alone.
especially when only one of your lymphnodes is swollen, and there's nobody to take care of you, and you have loads of work to do, and you bought jack's mannequin tickets months ago on presale and therefore gained a pre-entry wristband but you'll probably be too sick to go anyway so you'll have to sell them.
my life is so blah right now.
s.o.s.
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[31 Jan 2007|10:05am] |
in roughly 15 minutes i have to head back to photo class- she let out those of us who already knew how to use a camera. ha. it's like a repeat of my junior year of high school... but... oh well. it'll be easy, and it'll be lots of practice. maybe i'll even get a good shot i can include in my new portfolio for mca. (by new i mean a little updated)
i've been having constant headaches for about 3 days now. they get really intense at times. i think i'm getting them from a particular medicine i'm on... but i'm not entirely sure.
i sort of figured out how to stop crying. at least i don't do it constantly anymore. i only do when i'm really unoccupied.
this was pointless.
i want to go home.
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[28 Jan 2007|11:47am] |
i can't stop crying, and it's weirding me out.
i cried when cody left my house, i cried yesterday morning when i left, and i cried when i dropped my dad off at the airport an hour ago. and i'm crying now.
crying, crying, crying.
when i left my house, i got more and more scared with every mile that passed that something would happen to prevent my going home.
maybe cody and i would break up. or maybe he'd stop loving me. or maybe i'd stop loving him. or maybe i would just start having fun here. i'm afraid that i'm afraid that i'm afraid.
i don't want to seem like a huge baby.
i just didn't know it would be this hard.
i hope i don't start tearing up in class tomorrow.
though i'm sure i will.
what's wrong with me.
i think i'm the lonliest person in the world right now.
i won't see home for almost a month.
whine, whine, whine.
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[01 Jan 2007|11:02pm] |
am i the only one who doesn't think the new year is like, some beautiful, meaningful transition into a new life or something? jesus.
i mean, i'm not even bitter or anything. my new years eve was great. it was my first year to get a kiss at midnight.
but i mean, jesus.
give it a rest.
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[21 Dec 2006|04:08am] |
you know, i thought coming home would make things easier.
just like i thought leaving home would make things easier.
when am i going to learn?
nothing is ever easy.
memphis as a city hasn't changed at all.
ignorant inhabitants, ignorant leaders.
and no one knows how to drive.
i think eventually age 20 will be considered old.
in theory, the human lifespan is going to increase as time goes on.
but so will the amount of shit we have to deal with.
so what will be the point in living longer?
we'll just spend a lot more time being old.
sometimes i find myself thinking,
"what the hell am i doing?"
then i realize it doesn't really matter.
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[14 Dec 2006|04:41pm] |
C: "you haven't been consistent in your work. i see these great drawings, and i think they're great.. but then i see these bad drawings, and i think.. what are these doing here? how do you characterize this?"
L: "you mean, what does this mean about me?"
C: "yes."
L: "....i haven't really figured that out yet."
C: "you're immature."
damn, that sucked.
i'm immature.
i was inconsistent in my work.
inconsistency = immaturity.
consistency = maturity.
consistent lack of heart/interest/effort = immaturity.
C.
a fucking C.
i guess it's not so bad for my first real art class.
i'm trying to look on the bright side here.
i still have next semester.
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[06 Nov 2005|12:06pm] |
Goodbye, Livejournal.
apinktarantula@gmail.com
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| you're probably sick of seeing this. |
[15 May 2005|08:45pm] |
I have a friend- he's mostly made of pain,
and he wakes up, drives to work and straight back home again.
He once cut one of my nightmares out of paper.
I thought it was beautiful; I put it on a record cover,
and I tried to tell him that he had a sense of color and composition so magnificent.
And he said, "Thank you, please, but your flattery is truly not becoming me.
Your eyes are poor- you're blind, you see, no beauty could have come from me.
I'm a waste of breath, of space, of time."
I knew a woman- she was dignified and true,
and her love for her man was one of her many virtues.
Until one day she found out that he had lied,
and she decided the rest of her life, from that point on, would be a lie.
But she was grateful for everything that had happened,
and she was anxious for all that would come next.
But then she wept. What did you expect in that big old house with the cars she kept?
And "Such is life," she often said.
"With one day leading to the next you get a little closer to your death,"
which was fine with her; she never got upset.
And with all the days she may have left she would never clean another mess, or fold his shirts or look her best.
she was free to waste away alone.
Last night my brother- he got drunk and drove,
and this cop he pulled him off to the side of the road,
and he said "Officer, officer, you got the wrong man.
No, no I'm a student of medicine, a son of a banker. You don't understand."
The cop said, "No one got hurt. You should be thankful, and your carelessness-
it is something awful. And no, I can't just let you go.
And though your father's name is known, your decisions now are yours alone.
You're nothing but a stepping stone on a path to debt, to loss, to shame."
The last few months I've been living with this couple.
Yeah, you know, the kind who buy everything in doubles.
Oh, they fit together like a puzzle.
And I love their love, and I am thankful that someone actually receives
the surprise that was promised by all those fairy tales that drugged us, and they still do me.
I'm sick, lonely, no laurel tree, just green envy.
Will my number come up eventually? Like love's some kind of lottery
where you scratch and see what's underneath.
It's "Sorry, just one cherry. Play again! Get lucky."
So I've been hanging out down by the train's depot.
No, I don't ride- I just sit and watch the people there.
They remind me of wind-up cars in motion,
the way they spin and turn and jockey for positions,
and I want to scream out that it all is nonsense.
Your life's one track! Can't you see it's pointless?
But just then my knees give under me. My head feels weak,
and suddenly it's clear to see it's not them, but me
who has lost my self identity as I hide behind these books I read,
while scribbling my poetry like art could save a wretch like me,
with some ideal ideology that no one could hope to achieve,
and I'm never real- it's just a sketch of me.
And everything I've made is trite and cheap
and a waste of paint, of tape, of time.
So now I park my car down by the cathedral
where the floodlights point up at the steeples.
Choir practice was filling up with people.
I can hear the sound escaping as an echo,
sloping off the ceiling at an angle,
and when the voices blend they sound like angels.
I hope there's some room still in the middle.
But when I lift my voice up now to reach them, the range is too high, way up in heaven.
So I hold my tongue, forget the song, tie my shoe, start walking off,
and try to just keep moving on with my broken heart and my absent god,
and I have no faith, but it's all I want- to be loved and believe in my soul.
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[26 Dec 2004|11:58pm] |
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BORED. I WANT TO GET OUT OF THIS PLACE. I WANT TO SEE NEW FACES.
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[03 Nov 2004|06:45pm] |
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they both suck. one had to win. let's move on, shall we?
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[27 Jul 2004|12:40pm] |
you could go anywhere anytime and find someone, but how will you know if he's kind? the sun is out but happiness only reminds you of the people you hurt, mistakes that you made when you were down.
where are you now? you're sweeping up these sorry streets and i knew somehow when you looked up and over me that you could look up these words but you still won't understand. they mean nothing to you so write them in the sand and watch the water wash them away.
you could sit on your front porch and watch the wasps dive down. you could go out every night and force cheap beer down. you could go all day and not make a sound. you could go all day and not make a sound.
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[22 Jan 2004|08:38pm] |
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Bright Eyes - "Method Acting" |
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