What Goes On

2007-04-04T17:52:00.000-05:00

I've been busy lately. I applied for the AmeriCorps all the way across the country and have been all fluttering about getting ready. That's my kind of life--environmental work in Arizona, camping for days and days in a row, volunteering, with other people. I've always wanted to visit Arizona, but everybody told me "There's nothing to DO in the desert!" I don't care--I just wanted to go there and groove on everything out there. This'll give me a chance to get outta North Carolina for a change.

I just wanna go out west. I figure this is just as good an excuse as any to go. Everybody wins! I get to live the kind of vagabond life I wanna live, and the environment gets a lot of help as well! New trails are built, invasive species are removed, habitats are recreated. Hooray!

I've apparently gotten a lot stronger lately, too. O____o My mother told me to move the couch and I lifted and moved it all by myself. I guess eating spinach really does have its benefits.

2007-03-07T05:36:00.000-05:00

Lunar Lullabye
Another dark night has finally passed
My frenzied mind has slowed--at last!
6 AM--it's been a long time coming
Yes, it's bedtime now

I lift the blinds, peer outside
Nothing else in the world is alive
Only me--only me, the night, and the moon above

It is now that she speaks to me--
now that she shows me her magic
Now--that she and I are one
Sweet Selene tucks me in
And with a gentle silver kiss--
good night

Sung to sleep by the peepers
Rocked gently by the springtime breeze
I settle in with the sinking moon
And say my little prayer--
"I see the moon, and the moon sees me;
"God bless the moon, and God bless me"

2007-03-04T04:15:00.000-05:00

My mum--and most of the rest of my family--seems to be thoroughly convinced that I'm writing the next Great American Best-Seller. I don't know why. While I do love writing and I'm always scribbling something down, I've never really thought about publishing any of it. I just don't think my stuff is QUITE that good--not my fiction, at any rate. My fiction is more of just an escape for me, something I pour my time into when I'm bored with this world and wanna visit a new one. (I wouldn't mind seeing Working-Class Heroes as a comic-book or a television cartoon, though--I really think that'd be fun to see.)

I'm more confident in my nonfiction and poetry than I am in my fiction. My fiction is fun, but I think my nonfiction and poetry is better-written and more thoughtful. I don't think it's the greatest thing in the world, by any stretch of the imagination, but I think I'm pretty good in both respects.

If I were to publish anything, I'd put out either a collection of thoughts/poetry or a children's book. I love children's literature, and personally, I think I'd be good at cranking out something thoughtful, appealing, and cheerful for the chilluns (all ages, ideally, actually). I don't know what it'd be about, but I'd probably have a girl as the main character. Most of the guys have the cool adventures in children's books and the girls are playing dress-up instead; I think it's time for a girl to have a wild adventure!

2007-02-27T04:07:00.000-05:00

I've been wanting to go to Myrtle Beach on a little short backpacking trip for awhile, but I'm having trouble finding someplace to set up camp.

But I've also wanted to go to California forever--I've got so much I wanna see on the west coast. I'm sick of the east, as much as I really, really love Myrtle Beach. I'm kind of caught between the two options--on the one hand, I want a one-way ticket to California (and the general west) so I can find something great there; I want to go to San Francisco and Berkeley and Los Angeles and visit the deserts and see Seattle and all those other places.

But on the other hand, I want this little test-trip to Myrtle Beach--I just want to enjoy the things down there that I love without the interference of drunkards who just want to hang out at the local bars. That's basically it--a quick rehash of all of my usual beach haunts, then onward to the next great adventure.

I don't know whether Mum would help me with both of these trips--I don't need a LOT of help, mind you. It's more of a moral support thing (and spotting me $139 to go to California on the bus). I'm more-or-less prepared for travel at any time I leave the house--I've got a hell of a lot of supplies in my backpack. But I want to go somewhere and find Something. I'm not quite sure what I'm looking for, but I know it's Something important.

I want to go to both of these places; I just want it to get warmer and brighter out before I do go anywhere long-distance. The Myrtle Beach trip would be a short practice test--to see if I really CAN make it Out There. Moving to California would be the final exam. Going out there and being there, somewhere where I can be among friends... I'm gonna put some flowers in my hair and collect my things and move on.

But I wonder--could I convince Mum to spot me that trip for a birthday present, and perhaps a couple of nights' stay in Backpacker's Paradise Hostel? I don't know.

On the other hand--...

HOLY FUCK WHEN DID I GROW AN EXTRA HAND?!

2007-02-26T00:38:00.000-05:00

A random thought:

For all the Biblical thought of "God loves us and wants us to live good lives," I note that a lot of his most outspoken lunatic supporters seem to be very distinctly against anybody having a good time.

Sure, I believe that God loves us, and wants us to have a good time while we're here. I think that's why we've got such good stuff--songs, sunrises, pleasurable sex--going for us--we're here to enjoy all that great stuff we were given while we're here on this particular plane of existence. I also think that we're all different, that we have different things that please us--hey, I enjoy sitting on the side of the river and digging my nails into dirt, while someone else might enjoy playing videogames on the computer. Different strokes and all that. That's not the kind of thing I'm talking about.

What I'm talking about is that a lot of God's Holy Folks seem to work themselves into a sweaty fervor when anybody is seen enjoying themselves. Rock n' roll. Heavy metal. Some different forms of dancing. Sex. GAY sex. Herbal enjoyment. When enjoyed responsibly, these things are great. Enjoying these little presents that God--or Whatever--gives us is part of why we're here, I believe.

But a lot of folks line up around the block and complain very loudly about it. Waving signs, trying to get laws passed, trying to raise "awareness" through misinformation and faulty propaganda. "Those children are listening to Black Sabbath! Stop them! Those girls are buying birth-control pills and being responsible about their futures by attempting to prevent unwanted babies! SOMEBODY STOP THEM! THOSE TWO MEN ARE HOLDING HANDS AND KISSING! WON'T SOMEBODY, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, STOP THEM!?" Harmless activities, all! There's always a few bad nuts who spoil the whole bunch, but that's just it--it's a few of them. Most of the sane folks are enjoying it and not bothering anybody in any way.

Their defenses usually come in the form of "It's for the CHILDREN!" or "God wants us to live this way!" I've got problems with both of these statements.

One: "For the CHILDREN!" Look--if you don't want your kid participating in this stuff, then parent them the way you want. The village shouldn't be the sole entity raising the kid--you, as their parents, should. Keep an eye on your own chilluns and make sure they don't get into anything that's too grown-up for them. Alternately--let them GROW UP a little at a time. Don't seal them into a cocoon and only allow them a glance at the world when it's a nice and shiny time to do so. Much as I like to pretend otherwise, the world isn't all rainbows and ponies.

Two: "God wants us to live this way!" Well, if God seriously wants us to be miserable robots, totally conformed and conditioned into one massive hive mind of morality, then I hang up my hat entirely from my search for God-or-Whatever-it-is-Out-There. If this is God and God's feeling toward humanity as a whole, then I want no part of it--I'll live outside the church doors, thanks, even if I have to dodge lightning bolts in my dance.

Relax, folks. We're only here for a little while. Enjoy it while you can. Don't work yourself into sweaty fervors over such trivial matters. Lay back; look at the sky; take a deep breath; relax, and enjoy the world around you. Allow yourself to see and feel instead of being blinded by anger, hatred, fear, and "moral" outrage. Look through the eyes of love, and you will really see. And then you'll be able to free yourself and maybe you'll laugh once in awhile.

2007-02-24T04:23:00.000-05:00

I often wonder if there's anywhere for me in the world, or if there's anybody for me.

It seems terribly emo-tacular of me to think so, but sometimes I begin to suspect that I shoulda been dropped off about forty years earlier in time than I was. Like I should've been attending the real Woodstock, hanging out at the Haight, being with other people who believe. You look around the world today and you don't see many people who believe anymore. You don't see many people who Understand, who slow down or stop to enjoy things. The country's almost paved over, and its people are sad and sluggish.

Think that's the source of my various silly fangirlish infatuations with figures of the past, either dead or just old by now. I freely admit that they're silly, yes. Because they ARE. But I haven't many heroes to look toward from my age bracket--not when they've grown up idolizing Nirvana and My Chemical Romance and Green Day. The hopeless generation. It feels strange to be hoping for so much when the rest of your generation expects nothing but demands everything.

I don't want a lot, really--a sunny afternoon to just sit outside and dig it all; a true, loyal, Understanding friend to be with; good music to listen to while we play and dance and be together. That's about it, really. I don't ask for expensive gifts, I don't ask for lavish attention and luxury, I don't ask for worship or praise. I just ask for someone to Understand me--for a bit of love and loyalty.

I think this is the source of my not-so-secret crushes on people like John Lennon and Pete Townshend. They were/are terribly strange people, people who seem like they're lonely madmen, but like they have a deep and intimate understanding of the universe. So I admire that and envy that and wish I could make other people feel as wonderful as their music makes me feel.

Does that make me a weird person? Bet it does.

That's what I want. Not money, not luxury, not material success... just a bit of love from someone who's special.

2007-02-24T00:39:00.000-05:00

While on a walk, it occurred to me--

I don't care. I don't care whether I've got a $300,000 house. I don't care whether I've got a gas-guzzling monster SUV to show off to the neighbors. I don't care whether I've got twelve kids running around in the yard. I don't care whether I get a husband or a wife. Don't care whether I can buy expensive liquor, fancy show dogs, with people all at my beck and call to tend to my every silly whim.

All I need, all I want, is a sunny afternoon. A warm, sunny afternoon, the chance to stare up at the blue clear sky, feel the grass and dirt of the Earth between my bare feet, and feel the kiss of the breeze on my face. A chance to touch not only the Earth, but the world--to touch it and be touched, sweetly and gently, by the Spirit. There's nothing in any world like it. It's something that my soul cries for that can't be silenced with a DVD player, an iPod, and a Hummer. I want to touch things; I want to feel things that have been long forgotten or just ignored by others in the world.

I'd like to slow down and enjoy life while I'm here; I don't want to spend all of my time running around, then, when I'm seventy-something-years-old, find that I've got so much I've left unaccomplished and no time left in which to do accomplish it. Or that I lack the physical ability or I Can't Leave What I've Built Up Here or whatever.

I'd just like to be close to that Something beyond the world. I want to get to know that Something, without the unpleasant intrusion of bills bills kids car gas house payments time to go time to go gotta go gotta run run run... It's a simple thing that's so hard to get, and I'd like to enjoy wasting my time in trying to get to know it a bit closer before I don't have any time left to learn.

I want to make people smile. Fuck profits and dollar margins and stocks and bonds and Wall Street. I'd be just as happy standing on the street in Berkeley, making good-luck charms and telling jokes and playing a ukulele or something. I wouldn't care whether it got me a million dollars. I'd just want to see a sincere smile from a fellow human being. That'd be payment--more than enough for my taste, thank you.

Something real and Something that's just fleeting, like the White Stag of Lewis' stories... I'd like to catch up with it.

People say I'm stupid or silly for wanting to do it, that I should just give it up and resign myself to Mundane Reality--that I should and "must" abandon my dreams in order to live a "successful" life. Money isn't the measure of success. I can stand penniless on the seashore, feel the breeze on my skin, and be richer than any man in the world. And that's the kind of riches I'm after--that spiritual mansion, that place of comfort deep in the human soul, that Jesus and Company would talk about.

Something eternal and shining, yet fleeting and hard to catch... I'm gonna catch it!

2007-02-23T03:05:00.000-05:00

I'm on a Steppenwolf kick lately. I do not know why.

But a few nights ago, I had a dream that I got to go to a CCR concert that had Steppenwolf opening. That was pretty cool. I had front-row seats and would dance around instead of sitting the hell down and listening. John Fogerty would tease me, but threw a flower to me because he thought I was funny for how badly I danced. Which is probably what would happen if I danced at concerts, except for partaking in moshpits and suchlike. I have eight unseen left legs, I swear.

I've always wished I could dance. I wanted to take ballet and jazz and that when I was a little kid and would always run straight home with the forms that they'd pass out in elementary school. "Mooooom! Mooooom! Can I take ballet?" She'd always say no. So I never got to do ballet. Or karate. I was left to be on my own in the afternoons, to make up my own games and listen to my own kind of music.

So after awhile, nobody wanted to be friends with me, because I was getting rather "strange." I wasn't acting like a ten-year-old girl "should" act--I wasn't into boys, I wasn't into makeup, I wasn't into shopping and sleepovers. I was into adventures and daydreams and playing outside! Even the boys thought I was weird, so they left me alone.

I can't help but think that if I'd taken ballet, I would've had a few more friends as a kid and maybe I wouldn't be so screwy and lonely now. But maybe not.

In a way, I'm glad I'm screwy. It opens up a whole new world to enjoy when you're a few screws short of a picnic. You're not bound by expectations and "what should be." You're only bound by your crazy imagination, your own daydreams. Basically, you're free.

But what is freedom without friends to enjoy it with you, I wonder?

Man, I just flow from one tangent to another, don't I?

2007-02-22T22:40:00.000-05:00

Today was an absolutely gorgeous day!

It was 72 degrees outside, sunny, and slightly breezy. So I went on a walk and just grooved on it all for awhile. Then we had pizza with Grandma Allie (that cheezy-bites Pizza Hut pizza is great). But more importantly, it was just a beautiful day to be outside. I even went out and curled up in the hammock for awhile, staring at the sky.

And it occurred to me--if I never have an expensive house, if I never have an expensive SUV, if I never have twelve kids in the yard, if I never have a million dollars... I will be happy.

I will be happy to curl up under a blanket and stare up at the endless sky; I will be happy to touch the earth, feel the dirt in between my fingers, and smile at the stars.

I don't want a lot of money; I don't want an expensive house or a gas-guzzling car. I don't wanna eat expensive food and drink thousand-dollar liquor.

I'll be happy just to be, and nothing more. To make people happy and to be happy myself--to touch the world and feel it, carefully and gently.

2007-02-21T23:17:00.000-05:00

ABOVE THE INFLUENCE OF YOUR STUPID FUCKING COMMERCIALS

You know, I am TOTALLY never going to smoke pot, simply because I saw a thirty-second, poorly-drawn cartoon about aliens and a stick-person sitting on a park bench.

Poorly-drawn emotionally-driven-rather-than-logically-explained PSAs will totally keep the kids from tokin' up!

*eyeroll*

A nitpick: "Above the influence." If you were above influence, then wouldn't you be immune to THIS influence as well, and thusly, you would be able to make your own damn decisions rather than obeying the demands of either friends OR a television advert? And I always thought "influence" was a different creature than an absolute, irrefutable, DO-IT-OR-DIE!!!! order from your supposed higher-ups.

I do not care what comes in, on, or out of your body. As long as one does not harm another being on this Earth, it is none of my business. And so far, I have never seen a pothead harm anybody else (though my brother and his friends did some sizable damage on that freezer full of food I was planning to eat over that weekend) while stoned. I've heard a pothead laugh his ass off at children's cartoons. I've listened to a circle of 'em chat about reincarnation and stray cats and the nature of reality. Never seen a pothead knife someone else.

However, I have seen a lot of bad things come out of alcohol and cigarettes. Yes, not every boozer and smoker is a nasty person. Lots of them are nice. But some of them turn into rather nasty beasts when drinking, yet alcohol is fully legal. Huh.

I've also never noted that my pothead friends are evil homicidal fucks who care nothing for my well-being, as pothead friends are portrayed in commercials and after-school specials. Most of my friends are kinda spacy, but they're friendly people. Get even friendlier when stoned (though sometimes they get more annoying with giggles and munchies). I turn down their offer--smoke bothers my lungs and sinuses--and they leave it alone, then go get stoned a little bit away from me, so it won't bother me.

Not all stoners are angelic, not all boozers are evil. Of course not! But I'm rather annoyed with the fact that stoners are continually portrayed as evil, evil fucks and boozers as good, upstanding members of society who just happen to be drinking a smelly drink. Depends on what your poison is on whether you get nasty or nice, really. But seriously--think for JUST A SECOND about these kinds of things.

2007-02-21T03:48:00.000-05:00

MY TOP TEN FAVORITE GUITARISTS OF ALL TIME:

1) Jimi Hendrix. You probably saw that coming. Not only was Jimi an absolutely fantastic guitarist, he was a great songwriter, too--Little Wing, Fire, Wind Cries Mary, Red House, Remember, Voodoo Child and all that.

2) Pete Townshend. You probably saw that coming, too. Pete's a fab guitarist, but like Jimi, also a fabulous songwriter. ♥ I've babbled fangirlishly about him enough already. Pick an entry at random--I'm sure you'll find something about him somewhere. I have a not-so-secret fangirl crush on the man. I'm so pathetic. But that's not the point. He's a wonderfully creative person and can play anything you throw at him, but I think he does the guitar the best. There's something... different, almost mystical, about the way he plays. I'm not quite sure how to explain it.

3) Criss Oliva. He was the guitarist for Savatage until 1993 (killed by a drunk driver) and I think he's sadly underrated. He does some absolutely mindblowing work--especially on Hall of the Mountain King, Silk and Steel, Sirens, and Jesus Saves. Ahh, my childhood.

4) Tony Iommi. Come on--the man is missing a bunch of fingers, but still manages to play some fucking brilliant, dark, evil-sounding guitar. Wow.

5) George Harrison. His guitar wasn't as wild or insane or LOUD as some of the other people on the list, but that's precisely the point. George wrote and played wonderful music that made you think, made you laugh, and made you listen to it instead of just throwin' up the horns and rocking the fuck out. Which you could still do--but George had a lot of deep, thoughtful guitar in his songs.

6) The guys from Thin Lizzy. I love Thin Lizzy, but dammit, I can't remember any names except Phil Lynott and Mr Gorham (whose first name escapes me--it's either Scott or Brian... I'm so bad. *hangs head*) At any rate--great guitarists, work well in harmony, like on The Boys are Back in Town.

7) Jerry Garcia. Same reason as Tony Iommi... but reflected. Where Iommi's guitar is wonderfully dark and evil-sounding, Jerry's is peaceful and thoughtful and relaxing. I like it a lot. Plus, Jerry was just awesome all over.

8) Donita Sparks and Suzi Gardner. Wow. That's all I've got to say. Well, not really. These are the guitar ladies from L7. Their music is just bad-ass. It's hard, it's loud, and it's completely unlike a lot of "chick music." Where on the one hand you have Mariah fucking Carey moaning about her boyfriend with the cookie-cutter dance beat in the background, on the other, you've got L7, screaming about people who get on their shitlist with some loud, pissed music. They're pissed, they're women, they won't be quiet and sexkitteny like they're "supposed" to be, and I LIKE IT! Rock on, riot-grrls!

9) Joan Jett. Joan Jett is an awesome woman. Not only is her singing fabulous, so's her guitar work. In my opinion, anyway. She's bad-ass. Just about the same reasons as L7, really, except Joan came first. :P

10) Stevie Ray Vaughan. Childhood favorite; I still love his songs, and his Jimi Hendrix covers are great. I didn't know Little Wing was a Jimi Hendrix song until quite awhile down the road. I like Jimi's original more, but holy hell, Stevie came close to doing it just as well.

2007-02-20T01:52:00.000-05:00

I had a dream that I was part of Tokyo Mew Mew. I was part squirrel and had a gun that shot acorns. CORNY!! Also, the Green Man was my personal sidekick. That was awesome; I've always loved stories about the Green Man and he figures into a few different stories I've written (most notably, the only story in which I don't have a superpowered main character).

I took (and surprisingly, passed) my pre-test in math today. That surprised me very much. I'm absolutely horrible at math. I was expecting to get a 420 (just barely squeaking past the pass mark), but I got a 630 instead. Hooray! Now Josh's friend definitely isn't gettin' his hat back. It's lucky. :P

I went on a walk today and met up with two very different people.

One was the crackhead. Dude was pretty wall-eyed and strung out on something-or-another, reached out to grab my arm and slurred as to whether I wanted to know someplace to score something good. D: I started to back away. Then a big black dog came to my rescue and barked him away. Hooray for dogs! D'ya think animals can be guardian angels? XP

Then, on the way back, I met a sweet old man in a flannel shirt and overalls. He was picking up trash with a bucket and a grabber-thingy and chatted with me for a couple of minutes--about how lovely the weather was, how we hoped it stayed this way, and how much nicer we hoped it got in future days. I liked him. Hooray for cute, sweet old men! :DDD

The aeromodelers (people who stand around in an empty farmer's field flying model airplanes) were out yesterday, since it was a holiday. I spread out my towel and sat and watched them for awhile. Played in the dirt. That was great. X3

All in all, yesterday was a fab day! ♥

2007-02-18T21:03:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow is my math test. Bah! I was never good at math. Sure, I can do most of the basic stuff, like multiplication and division, probability (and I was pretty damn good at predicting the outcomes of the dice-rolling games we'd play in elementary school as an illustration of it), geometry, that kind of stuff. But I'm terrible in most other respects. Bad at algebra, bad at percentages, bad at remembering what step is supposed to go where...

But I'm kinda glad it is tomorrow. That means I'll be that much closer to gettin' out of here, out on the road toward better and bigger things!

I've been spending the lazy day researching. Average temperatures for late March-mid-April over here where I'm gonna go, proper things to pack, a possible road name, routes, that kind of stuff. Busy busy busy! But it's more fun than reviewing my math activities. D:

2007-02-18T04:41:00.000-05:00

I stole a vagabond's hat today. Well, really, didn't steal it, and it's from a former one. My brother's friend left his hat here and I decided it was fair game.

So now it's mine. It looks good on me, dammit. It's hard to find anything that looks good on me.

I think it's lucky, too. I put it on and found some stuff I'd been looking for, then wore it to the mall yesterday and some cute punkish guy checked me out. (Trust me--this is not an everyday occurrence. This is perhaps the second time it has ever happened in my pathetic life.) Nothing came of it, but I was still appreciative that it happened at all. It's the little things and all that.

I've pretty much given up on having any true, close friends and resigned myself to having figments of my imagination and silly daydreams to accompany me. I keep on displaying love and compassion toward everybody I meet regardless of the affection or lack thereof they have for me, but it seems that I couldn't keep a friend to save my life. I figure, it's been... *counts on fingers* Almost nine, ten years since I had a true, really close friend. The one that came closest was Kristen in fourth grade. My friendship with her was very important--I learned a lot about myself--but upon reaching late fifth grade, she dropped me like a sack of rocks for the more popular sixth-grade girls. I'm a bit bitter still, I suppose--she was a wonderful person, fun to be around, and very imaginative. I want another friend like her. Male, female, androgyne, whatever--I just want a loyal friend who's as nuts as I am.

And I gave up on romance LONG ago. Here's a person who believes firmy in peace and the saving power of love, but sneers at even the barest prospect of romance and intimacy. It comes of never having, in my entire life, somebody who's taken an interest in me beyond friendship or even mere sidekickdom. I'm fine with being Just A Girl Friend instead of being a girlfriend, I suppose. But sometimes, it does get lonely. Sometimes, just sometimes, I get bored with being the Independent Hippie Riot-Grrl figure, the Wise Earth Mama figure, the Unapproachable But Alluring Loony.

I think that's why I've got such major fangirl infatuations with old folks like Pete Townshend and Ringo Starr. They're the kind of people I'd like to hang around with. People who are crazy, but still good-hearted and kind. Cynically optimistic. Creative and destructive. Silly. Strange. People who understand. People who have a very important message to tell the world. People who are missing from today's generation--my generation. So, feeling lonely and isolated, I transfer my affections onto these strange old men that I've never met and most likely never will, and they become sort of knight-in-shining-armor figures for a lonely teenage nerdasaurus like me.

I go into the world every day searching for a companion, someone who Understands, someone who's looking for the same person. But all I find in the company of my generation is deadness. Dimmed, despairing souls who never even go searching for hope; complaints and anger without hope and determination to back it up and make a change; greed and stagnation and the pollution of the heart.

Sometimes I think I've been born in the wrong era--that I shoulda been born between 1940 and 1950 sometime, so I could've partied at Woodstock or seen a real Doors concert or attended an SDS demonstration or learned at a free university. I wish I'd been something important in the past. But then the thought occurs to me--

Maybe I'm here for a reason. Maybe I'm here and now instead of there and then so I can do something just as radically important as my heroes.

Got so hard, but we gotta keep tryin'~

2007-02-16T22:23:00.000-05:00

I did a biiiiiig, long rant about Kidz Bop awhile back about how much I hated it when kids sang tone-deaf, droning covers of pop songs. Girl Authority just reinforces my hate for such things... but my rage for Girl Authority just goes beyond the fact that they can't sing for shit. A lot of kids can't. (Some can. But they typically aren't the ones who get albums and television shows. Except that one little thirteen-year-old girl who sang a pretty damn good cover of Janis Joplin's "Piece of my Heart.")

But my main problem with Girl Authority is how they're presented and the material they deal with.

It says somewhere on their godawfully glittery site that they're "never prepackaged." Then how the hell do you explain them at all--"Country Girl! 'Bohemian Girl'! Sporty Girl!" If that ain't prepackaged, then I'm a monkey's uncle. These girls dress and act within their one-word personalities and their hobbies seem to only fit within the range of what one would expect of "Country Girl" (she likes riding horses), "Sporty Girl" (she likes soccer). I prefer my stars and idols and heroes to have more than ONE aspect of their personality presented, thank you, and I prefer that my musicians have something unique about them. You know... talent, like.

Another thing: "PARTY GIRL." Party Girl. Is. Ten. Years. Old. Wearing fishnets and heels. Please tell me that I'm not the only one whose Inner Rocky Horror Fan is screaming "SLUT-IN-TRAINING!" or singing along with Janet's piece in the stage show. Ten-year-olds shouldn't be wearing heels and fishnets, and they certainly shouldn't be paraded around as party girls for the media. What does Party Girl do? Does she go on the pony rides and get the first slice of cake? First dibs on presents? What the fuck would a ten-year-old "Party Girl" do?!

Then I've got issues with the songs they cover as well. Hollaback Girl... I hate that song anyway, but the woman says "Shit!" like fifty times in that song, doesn't she? How did the producers manage to skirt that? And then there's an abysmal cover of Hit Me With Your Best Shot... I think Toxic and Oops I Did It Again are in there somewhere, too. Look, folks, just because kids--relentlessly prefab kids--are singing these songs doesn't make them any less sexual or anything.

I hear they also toured with the Dresden Dolls. Now, I'm not at all familiar with the Dresden Dolls. But aren't they about twenty times harder rock than Girl fucking Authority? What the blue hell? That's like one of the sunshiney flowerchildren with the acoustic guitar and a flower crown in her hair opening for GWAR with songs about rainbows, fluffy pillows, and kittens. With no ensuing jokes and pranks and general mischief and mayhem from GWAR.

Besides--what about the other girls? Butch Girl, Nerdy Girl, Bitch Girl, Girl Whose Personality Cannot Be Summed Up Entirely With One Word, That Girl Everybody Is Sure Will Grow Up to be a Raging Lesbian, Smelly Girl In The Corner Reading Books about Nuclear Physics and Ghosts, all of those? Also: How about Minority Girl!? These kids are all probably upper-middle-class and as white as the fallen snow. Except Urban Girl, whose skin is sort of the tone of a cream-filled mocha--she just looks like a white girl with a tan.

Forgive what may seem a bit of a tangent, but I love the Monkees. The original Pre-Fab Four. Say what you will--at least they each knew something about music, at least they could carry a fuckin' tune, and at least they weren't nine-year-old kids portrayed as party animals--at least they each have a personality that can't be summed up with one word per member. Sure, they were sort of "typed" in the show--Mike was the Smart One, Peter was the Sweet But Kind of Dim Guy, Davy was the Cute One, and Micky was the Crazy One. But they were more than that and were--to a point--allowed to express it on the TV show and through their music (though there were some things that weren't allowed to be expressed on TV, which is why, I believe, they made HEAD.)

Girl Authority has none of that. They're so bloody prepackaged, one-dimensional, and what's worse, I could sing better. Keith Moon could sing better. YOKO ONO could sing better. Hey, at least she has some idea about tunes and melody, rather than using the same general hum for every song she's ever done. (...Yeah, I'm a bit of a Yoko fan. I'll stop there.)

I'll freely admit that I'm a Crotchety Old Music Nerd at Only Eighteen, but seriously, this is just fucktarded.

On the bright side--I haven't seen the commercial torturing my television in months, and that's a very good thing.

Now I just have to get Kidz Bop, Now That's What I Call Music, and the Naked Brothers Band to will themselves off of my set so I can watch my cartoons and crime shows in peace.

2007-02-16T20:32:00.000-05:00

Something I've often pondered:

Why is Robin dressed in such bright, gunfire-drawing colors? Unless that's the point. Take the focus off of the crazed shadow-stalking vigilante in the black, sweeping outfit and shoot at Robin so Batman can jump in and nail your ass.

Seriously--such a bright costume would seem kind of impractical considering the kind of work that Batman n' Robin do. You can kind of excuse Superman and Wonder Woman for having bright sparkly costumes, because they run around in broad daylight foiling robberies and such. Everybody sees them. But Batman's schtick is to run around in the shadows of Gotham, mowing down psychopaths in goofy-ass outfits and common random thugs. His thing is stealth--darkness, mystery, secrecy. But then you've got Robin (and a lot of other barely-pubescent teen sidekicks) running around in bright primary colors like yellow and red.

Don't get me wrong--I've got nothin' wrong with teen superheroes. I love the Runaways and Captain Marvel's whole family. Hell, the X-men were originally just a bunch of teenagers, and they still have a bunch of them among their ranks. But it seems the only reason that the big-boy solo superheroes ever get sidekicks is to keep them around is so they can distract their enemies when swooping in for the win. (Look at the latest X-books from Marvel--all of the central characters like Jean Grey and Cyclops stay fully-powered and more-or-less alive, but all of those kids in the background are either depowered, killed, or just THERE, in the background.)

There was an unintentionally hilarious comic back in the day where Batman had, like, a whole battalion of Robins waiting in the wings to replace Dick Grayson. Look it up on Superdickery somewhere. Fortunately, Dick managed to grow up with no super-duper-apparent psychoses from this. Unlike Batman. :P But some of his successors didn't fare so well (Jason Todd in particular). Guess the Joker finally picked up on that.

Anyway.

If I were a superhero, I'd pick a costume more suited to my environment and the hours I spend active. Or something related to my powers and training.

2007-02-15T22:27:00.000-05:00

I had a dream that I was heckling Criss Angel at a show. It was funny. XD Love his show, and if I had my way, I would be a magician, too. Sadly, nobody ever gave me that magic kit I wanted when I was seven, so I never really got into it and it might as well be REAL magic for all I know. Anyway, that's what I was doing in that dream--sitting up front and mocking Mr Angel, until he yelled at me to shut the hell up and let him get on with it. XP I have weird dreams. But they're always fun.

Kind of wish I'd been teasing old British dudes instead, though. :P I love old British dudes. ♥ Ufufufufufufu. They age well. Most of them, anyway... I think Keith Richards died in the 1970s and has just been wandering around like a zombie ever since. But he's a nice zombie, isn't he? XD

2007-02-14T18:10:00.000-05:00

I had a dream that I got to hang around Deadpool. Not by choice. He just saw me loitering somewhere and decided to drag me along on his rounds. I had superstrength and a gigantic iron fan that I kept smacking him around with. XD Most of the dream was spent bickering with Deadpool, who had to--in order--get some milk for a cake Blind Al was making, find Cable, ride the elevator up and down a very tall building, and then run around doing bloodier things. Also on that list--I guess--was dragging along a chick with pigtails and a tie-dye shirt. And an inexplicable giant fan.

The elevator that we were riding in stopped in-between floors and we found a new dimension. Jim Morrison was there tinkering with some machine. He waved and said hello. After that, we went up to the next real floor. A possessed little girl was there and she frightened me. Deadpool said I was a wuss. I ran off to get Jim, because I figured he could do something about it. I do not know WHY. But I guess he did, because the little girl passed out and nothing else was heard of her.

Then we headed up to Ohio in a stolen car for a music festival. Yeah, guess who was there. Pete just kind of rolled his eyes. "You again." I rescued him from somebody who intended to kill him and he rewarded me with a shiny new quarter and a pat on the head for my trouble. XDDDD

Also, David Bowie was there. I lurked around outside his hotel room until I could get an autograph. I asked him to say one of Jareth's lines, and he just kind of rolled his eyes much in the way Pete did. XDDDD

But then Deadpool dragged me away again saying we had things to do. Which included teleporting into the future. It was weird. I remember four horsemen. Color-coded and gay as a march morning, the lot of them. O____o That would be hilarious if that was what really happened. XD

In dreary real life: Took my test. Had to fight with Mr Whatshisname again. God, I'm so sick of that guy. I try to take everything in stride, but he's getting on my last nerve. In fact, all of FTCC is. TWO MORE FUCKING WEEKS AND I'M OUT. *tears hair*

I went on a walk to fetch some more spaghetti sauce for Mom. Tonight is Gram's birthday and we're having cheese ravioli and red velvet cake. :D That'll be good, at least.

The guy at the gas station wished me a happy Valentine's day. X3 That made me a bit happier. ♥ No idea who he is, but he's nice--he's been at the checkout a few times before.

2007-02-14T01:17:00.000-05:00

Oh God, I just found the Hash House website. I remember Hashing.

By their own admission, they're a "drinking club with a running problem." I grew up around that atmosphere. What a goddamn weird childhood I had. On the one hand was Dad--ranting about the God Damn Niggers and the God Damn Liberals and generally being a fountain of hatred for everybody outside his immediate family. And on the other were the Hashers--a bunch of weirdos in funny outfits getting together to run about five miles on Sundays, then stop and drink beer and eat chips and sing songs about fucking and beer and pot.

Our dog was the mascot for the local chapter a few years back. Big English bulldog named Tug. He loved running; everybody loved Tug, and they'd share beer and water and food with him in the circle at the end. Unfortunately, Tug died doing what he loved--during a Hash right after Hurricane Fran, he was bitten by a copperhead and died. Afterward, everyone was depressed. We took out permanent markers and drew a big "gravestone" for him on the table at the place where we went to eat afterward.

I liked Hashers. Wild, insane party animals. But very friendly.

That was about the only real exercise Dad got. He would only go because there was lots of free beer at the end of the trail. And everybody else on the street was busy on Sundays, so we'd go with him on the Hash. At first, my brother and I would go in the beer truck and hang around listening to music. But when we got a bit older, Josh would go running with everybody else, and I'd go with the two or three other walkers. I loved walking through the woods like that. It was awesome.

I just found the local-chapter website. I'd like to go again--perhaps the Sunday after the coming one. I wonder if I could hitch a ride there. I miss the party atmosphere. Maybe I could get Taylor to come along--that'd be pretty fun. :D (Also, I could wiggle out of the whole "virgin Hasher" thing--I HAVE been there before, several times, so technically, it wouldn't be my first time running with the rest of the group. I just don't wanna get beer poured over my head.)

2007-02-13T21:47:00.000-05:00

Bored.

I'm looking forward to Sunday--I'll have my braces off (on Thursday) and I'll be on my way to Ohio with my brother and a bunch of near-strangers. Huzzah! I'll be going somewhere different.

I just wanna get out of here. I don't really and honestly care where I go. I just wanna be out of here, around new people, seeing new places. I've been here for the past fifteen out of almost-nineteen years--I'm BORED with being here!

Being out on the road helps renew me. If I'm inside for more than a few hours, I start getting depressed and lonely and bored. No bueno. I prefer to wander along the road for hours, waving at the drivers who go past, chatting with the little old ladies out to get their mail, seeing the strange things one sees when one slows down...

...like last week, when I went on a walk to the next town up the road. About eight miles from here. I saw a house with a Jolly Roger flag flying--half-staff and upside-down. I have no bloody clue WHY it was that way, but I found it funny and spent a good few minutes giggling at the sight of it before moving on.

2007-02-13T00:00:00.000-05:00

Drew this entirely by hand, but I had to recolor it in MSPaint because the colors of the original didn't scan that well. It took a bitch of a long time to do his hair/beard, but I'm still happy with how it came out--it's one of the best bits of art I've ever done.

I like how his nose came out. :P But then, I like Pete's nose anyway. ...what? The man's got a nice nose.

I also drew a portrait of a grinning Roger and a silhouette of "the ether man." Who, coincidentally, has a large nose. :P Even though Pete says it isn't him, I have my secret suspicions.

In other news: I'm going to Ohio again with my big brother next week. Hooray! He's going to record an album with his band. I'm just going along to help him out with random things. I'm just going to go there, really. I need a change of scenery~!!

2007-02-11T23:54:00.001-05:00

I have cheddar cheese cubes, dipped into sweet-n-tangy mustard.

Life is good.

Mustard and cheese is possibly my favorite food combination... XP I'm famous in the family for, in my early years, existing on mustard-and-cheese sandwiches. No meat, no veggies in the middle of that. Just the mustard and a slice of cheese. Mmm. Hell, I still have that pretty often, even if I've got my soy-lunchmeat. I just love it. Someone at church once told me that mustard-and-cheese combos were popular in Germany, but I don't know if that's true or not. I like to think my weird tastes are my own. :P

And I've got some weird tastes, too. Chocolate sauce on carrots. BBQ sauce on green apples. Stuff like that. XD

The only foods I will absolutely NOT eat are celery (which is not a food--it's bent scrap plywood with a puff of green on top), mushrooms (never liked them), and hot peppers. I love sweet peppers, particularly the yellow ones, but I don't like jalapenos or other super-spicy peppers like that very much. And, obviously, I don't eat meat, as I'm a vegetarian (in addition to the usual tree-hugging reasons, meat gives me horrible gut-wrenching stomachaches, even back when I DID eat it on a daily basis--I guess something just didn't fit well with my digestive system or something).

2007-02-09T03:04:00.000-05:00

I like Doctor M's design. I went through a lot of them before settling on the on he's got now. All that's clearly visible are white shiny fangs, glowing green eyes, and a fluttery cloak. Otherwise, he's like a big, spiky black shadow. He can sprout tentacles and claws and scales and such.

He uses his tentacles to freak people out, really. Amit offers Sophie a box of Junior Mints and the Doctor reaches over with one of his tentacles to take some. Both of them freak out, but he just shrugs it off--"What? WHAT? You offered."

Also, I hate the "e" key on my keyboard. It isn't pressing down properly and now I have random e-less words in my entries. Bah!

2007-02-08T02:31:00.000-05:00

I always wonder what happens when somebody buys some bizarre thing off of eBay that's been advertised as "a great conversation piece!" What kind of conversations do you have over a six-foot-long winged wooden penis? (I'm not kidding--I saw this once. WTF?)

"So, uh... Jim... why do you have a six-foot-long winged wooden penis hanging from your ceiling?"

"So I can have this conversation. Over and over and over again."

One must wonder...

2007-02-07T21:56:00.000-05:00

I think I've finally figured out the answer to that old philosophical dilemma--"If God exists, why doesn't He stop the wars and disease and all that?"

It's because He is very busy with appearing in slices of ham, bags of Cheetos, and in the holes of your sandwich bread.

Forget little Timmy Smith's muscular dystrophy and Grandma Lynn's cancer--Jesus and Mary have an appointment with some redneck's breakfast plate! They're too busy for miracles these days!

eBay is frickin' weird, isn't it?

My stepmother loves eBay and buys all kinds of damn things off of it--particularly Longaberger baskets. Before the house burned down, you shoulda seen our kitchen--baskets everywhere. Now most of those are charred ash bits in a trashcan somewhere. But before that, she had, quite literally, hundreds of them. Sometimes she buys me cheap jewelry off of there--stuff with fairies and the like on it.

My aunt's big into eBay, too. She got a bitchin' neon sign for her living room that reads "Voodoo Lounge," like the Rolling Stones album. Four bucks! I shit you not. Wouldn't mind having a lamp like that to read by.

2007-02-07T03:06:00.000-05:00

Listening to an interview with Pete about Psychoderelict. I think he's a knight in shining armor. Like the crazy White Knight from Through the Looking-Glass. He's totally out of his mind, but he's got a lot of important, interesting things to say; I'm kinda like Alice. Except I don't have Pete dragging me through Looking-Glass Land. Which would be rather fun.

But in the interview, he talks about Lifehouse and Psychoderelict and all that--about how Ray High is like a shining-knight figure (except not). I think of Pete as a knght in shining armor. Yeah, I'm making absolutely no sense and I'm totally being a halfwitted fangirl again. But still. I'll listen to him until the day I die. Maybe longer. He's got something important to say in every little tune he writes, even if the songs are seemingly meaningless. I wanna listen to what he has to say; I wanna hear The Note; I wanna learn from him. I've got such a goofy crush on him. Trying valiantly to get rid of it, because eighteen-year-old dork-hippies shouldn't obsess over old, wise men with large noses and large brains.

Well, anyway.

Weird things going on around my house. I laid down last night to go to bed and turned on my side... and on the other side of the bed, I felt the mattress depress. Like someone had sat down there. I do not have anybody else in my room when I go to bed. That kind of creeped me out. And my mum has been hearing things all over the house--tappings, knockings, whistles, soft chatter, and so on.

We have sort of a "not-me" ghost in our house, named James Stern. Sometimes I daydream that he's really real and he's just kind of bumming around our house. But then, sometimes, I suspect that he really is real and teases us. Just sometimes. Think I'm losing my mind? What little I've got left to lose, anyway.

2007-02-03T04:47:00.000-05:00

Wrote a letter I'm not sure I'll send.

It's a fan-letter to Pete Townshend. I managed to keep it fairly sane, with a minimum amount of pointless fangirling. Still kept it pleasant and encouraging.

But I'd only send it if I had the chance to do it without Mom or Dad or someone seeing. I'm known for avoiding things like this--I'm famous for steering clear of crushes and other such things. But I've got a massive fangirlish crush on him. I don't ever think I'll even meet him, but I'd like to send him the letter anyway. Which would give everybody in my family license to mock me for the rest of our natural days, as well as some of the unnatural ones. I'm known for being independent, tough, all that.

So, in some respects, I feel like I can identify with Pete in several of his songs. They're so universal, but they're also intensely personal. That's why I love his music, with and without the Who. It's like magic, channeled through a guitar and microphone, conducted with strange dances and gestures. No... it IS magic. That's what it is.

I might revise the letter a bit before attempting to send it off. Wonder if I'll request an autograph... I'll have to try to print off a picture of him, even though I'm sending some I drew of him (and "the Ether Man", who just so HAPPENS to be a silhouette with a large nose in my interpretations :P).

I feel so silly for being like this over an old stranger that I'll never be less than a hundred yards away from. I'm usually known for chuckling at people like this and reminding them of harsh reality. But now I'm one of them. It's kind of odd. I like the warm fuzzies I get when I hear the Who or solo-Pete coming on the radio--it's like early Christmas for me. So easily amused.

Maybe I will send it after all. Have to get some international stamps, though, according to my Invisible Internet Friend from Belgium. Doubt he'll read it at all--he probably pays a clerk to forge his handwriting on a form letter or something--but on the off chance he does, I'd like him to know how important and enchanting his lyrics are. I'm sure he knows, though. I'm sure he knows. But it bears repeating. Doesn't it?

Don't think it's that long a walk from here to the post office.

2007-02-01T00:51:00.000-05:00

I continue my geek-rage over the new Bridge to Terabithia movie.

Part of the point of the story is that you can't escape everything in your fantasies--you can't hide in your beautiful imaginary world because your reality is a bit harsh. That's part of the point of the end of the book--that Leslie dies and Jesse can't seem to get back to the way Terabithia was because Leslie was part of the magic of the world they created TOGETHER. He has to grow up and face reality without her. That's what was so tearjerking about the story, and I think, it's the point of the story ending the way it did.

But in every commercial I see, it's "the secret of Terabithia!" "they have to save their fantasy-world!" "they unlocked a REAL Terabithia!" No, dammit, no! You're missing the POINT!

Bah. I smoulder in geek-rage.

IN OTHER NEWS:

I drew a decent realistic portrait of Pete Townshend, and I think it looks good. Maybe I'll send it to him in a letter. Not like he actually reads his fanmail--at the very least, it'd provide some good heat for a poor, cold hobo when it gets tossed in the incinerator. I also drew two of Roger that turned out looking fairly good. But the Pete one turned out the best--I liked his eyes the most.

These are the first pictures I've ever done--in a realistic style--wherein the subjects didn't come out looking melancholy, confused, or completely blank. I've done a portrait of myself, of people from my dreams, but they always come out looking like that. I don't know why Pete and Roger came out looking like they're actually expressing emotion (I particularly like how Pete's lips came out--they look like they belong to a human being and not a mutant squid monster with giant fishlips.)

I dunno whether I will, indeed, wind up sending them off, though.

2007-01-22T13:53:00.000-05:00

I'm pro-choice because I believe a woman should be able to do whatever she damn well wants with her body, and she should be able to get one safely. Want to keep the baby? That's great. You're a far more patient woman than I. Want to get rid of it? That's fine, too. Some people aren't fit to become parents, some women have problems that reproduction would only worsen, so on and so forth. It's not my place--nor is it anybody else's--to tell a woman what to do with her body and whatever goes in or out of it.

It's especially not the business of rich old white men who have no idea of the circumstances of an individual woman.

Against abortion? Don't have one, then. Have your kid. That's great. But don't try to destroy this important right for other women who don't want the fetus. Adoption solves unwanted parenting; abortion solves unwanted pregnancy. And mind you, most women don't use abortion as a birth control method. A lot of women use protection that sometimes fails. Sometimes they're raped. The decision to have an abortion is a serious one--not one that's used all willy-nilly.

Being pro-choice doesn't mean you're pro-forced-abortions-for-all. My mother is pro-choice and she's had two kids... AND an abortion. Sibling X, in 1984, was about two months in when something went wrong and my mother was horribly ill. She had to have one of her ovaries snipped off, along with Sibling X. If she hadn't done it, there would be four of us not alive today--sibling X, my brother, me, and Mom herself.

I think abortion should be safely and freely available to all women who need or want one. Adoption doesn't solve everything. There are millions of kids wasting away in adoption agencies, foster homes, and orphanages waiting for someone to come and adopt them because their parents didn't want them or couldn't take care of them. But people keep having their OWN babies instead. Flooding the system with more and more kids isn't the answer.

I'm childfree. I never want kids. Ever. I don't want to bother with pregnancy or anything that comes with it. If I were to miraculously get pregnant, it would be off to the clinic for me. I have too much I want to accomplish in life that could not be accomplished with a kid in the way. My kid would be more than likely neglected; it's in their interest that they never exist so they won't have to feel such a terrible feeling.

Abortion should be available in a doctor's office, in a safe and sterile environment. They should not be things of shame, performed in a dank alley somewhere by a dirty man with a machete and a pair of salad spoons or with a bent-up wire hanger jammed into one's body. Keep it legal, keep it safe... and most importantly, if you don't like abortion, DON'T HAVE ONE, DAMMIT. Keep the option open for other women!

2007-01-18T16:43:00.000-05:00

GREYFACE

In the year 1166 B.C., a malcontented hunchbrain by the name of Greyface, got it into his head that the universe was as humorless as he, and he began to teach that play was sinful because it contradicted the ways of Serious Order. "Look at all the order around you," he said. And from that, he deluded honest men to believe that reality was a straightjacket affair and not the happy romance as men had known it.

It is not presently understood why men were so gullible at that particular time, for absolutely no one thought to observe all the disorder around them and conclude just the opposite. But anyway, Greyface and his followers took the game of playing at life more seriously than they took life itself and were known even to destroy other living beings whose ways of life differed from their own.

The unfortunate result of this is that mankind has since been suffering from a psychological and spiritual imbalance. Imbalance causes frustration, and frustration causes fear. And fear makes for a bad trip. Man has been on a bad trip for a long time now.

It is called THE CURSE OF GREYFACE.

2007-01-17T18:15:00.000-05:00

Looks like I won't be applying for a job at Camp Rockfish after all--they don't serve vegetarian meals.

Oh well. Sour grapes--they wouldn't want me to work there anyway. Imagine the things I'd be teaching those kids. "Backpacking to Berkeley 101." "The Life and Times of Abbie Hoffman." "Manifestos, Creeds, Petitions, and Movements." "Meditation and Primal Drumming Exercises for the Wild-spirited Womyn." "Why Old Religious Traditions Just Aren't Making Any Progress: The New Age and Your Role In It." "Power to the People: Jesus' Socialist Leanings."

Yeah. I wouldn't be a very popular counselor.

I don't imagine that I'd be popular with my fellow counselors, either. I was never that popular at summer camp. I was the one who was always up for a four-mile hike through mud, a swim through dirty lake water, campfires sans marshmallows, and truly gruesome and disturbing ghost stories. Everybody else at my camp was interested in pedicures and other girly shit that I never cared for. So we'd always get stuck back at the tents and never get anything really COOL done. I'm still rather bitter about it.

No, I think I'll be better off taking my backpacking trip to the beach. Maybe I'll visit the Meher Center while I'm there this time.

2007-01-13T01:37:00.000-05:00

I found out they're making a Bridge to Terabithia movie. It was always one of my favorite books--my favorite teacher ever (third grade, Mrs Beyers) recommended it to me. But it seems like they're making it into more of a fantasy movie. While the power of imagination and Leslie's free-spiritedness was a great part of the book, I always kind of thought the point was about how you couldn't escape from reality and focus on fantasy to avoid and evade every hurtful thing in life. While Jesse did learn a great deal about bravery from Leslie, he couldn't escape anymore without her.

I sort-of-kind-of doubt they'll kill her off in the movie. It's a Disney kids' movie, after all, and no good guy dies in Disney movies. Not that I can remember, at any rate. From the commercial and promo on the Disney channel that I've seen, it seems they're pursuing more of a fantasy angle to it--with tree-creatures, magic talking animals, and stuff.

I might go see it anyway, since I loved the book. Not sure, though.

2007-01-11T00:03:00.000-05:00

Nyaa, I thought I'd finally found a forum full of kindred spirits at HipForums... but they're not. They put down peace and equality and instead rally under the banner of rudeness and anonymous Internet bitchery. I've been observing the forums and I haven't yet found a single person who bothers to promote peace and all of those other old-time hippie values. Some people start out that way on the Protest forum threads, but it all dissolves into "We can't do anything about it. Give it up." Which depresses me very severely.

I wonder if there's anywhere I fit today. I don't fit in in real life, so I looked for somewhere on the Internet to make friends... but I can't find them even there. I think maybe that's why I like music so much. If I listen to nutters like Pete Townshend and John Lennon pondering the same problems... then I don't feel so lonely. I feel like I've got someone who understands, even if I don't know them personally and never will.

I think it's also why I write so many stories and why I sleep so much. In my fantasies and dreams, I've got wonderful, accepting companions who, although they can be gruff or rude sometimes, generally hold up to the principles of peace, equality, and unity. When I sleep, I take these great adventures. While I can and do sometimes go on crazy adventures, I'm always alone in doing them. All I really want is to have these same crazy adventures... with someone who understands at my side. Lonely fulfillment is nothing fulfilling at all.

Maybe I'll go to California... perhaps to Berkeley or San Francisco. By the report from my Intarnetz-friend Hannah, Berkeley would be the perfect place for me. Maybe this March, I'll take my test-trip down to the beach, then I'll move on to bigger and better places... out to the west.

And even if I don't make any friends along the way, I'll at least be among kindred spirits who believe. That's all I want. I want to stop being around cynical, rude, bitter and jaded people who don't believe in anything anymore. That's part of my problem, I suppose--I believe too much and put far too much faith in friendship and love and hope.

2007-01-05T21:25:00.000-05:00

You know, I think having super-elasticity as a power would suck.

Really--it would just make me lazy.

"Well, no reason to get up and go all the way into the kitchen. I can just reach that box of truffles from over here in the living room." Stre-e-e-e-tch. "Here we go. Truffles, come to Mama. Wait, I need some soda, too. Lots of soda. Fuck, the remote's broken, too. Oh well. I can do it all from right here on the couch."

All of the other powers I can think of, even useless ones like Flowerchild's or Glow Girl's, would make me feel like running off on an adventure to try and figure out the full extent of such a spiffy power.

But elasticity would just make me one lazy bitch. Or aspire for a career in softcore porno.

Also--imagine if your enemy was armed with an eggbeater or some gears or something. What if you got stuck in their Super Death Trap Machine of DOOM and got all caught in there, but wouldn't DIE because you would endlessly stretch and squish? I imagine that even if you had elasticity, you'd feel some kind of pain. Vast, mindblowing pain from being squished by spiky gears or an evil eggbeater or something.

Or if your enemy was another stretchy person and you were tied in a hopelessly complex Gordian knot with no way of escaping or untying yourselves? That would be a bitch, wouldn't it?

There would be a couple of bright sides. No need to get the ladder out of the shed to save that kitten in a tree. No need to fetch the plumber, since you could squeeze your hand down the pipe and get that clog out yourself.

But still.

I'd rather have a pointless power like Glow Girl's, or, hell, even Matter-Eater Lad's, instead of elasticity.

2007-01-04T07:32:00.000-05:00

Who needs sleep, anyway?

I'm in the middle of a caffeine-fueled writing spree, having just devoured an entire box of chocolate-covered espresso beans. I may not need to sleep for another week.

Anyway, the bright side is, I've been making great progress on part II of the Working-Class Heroes story. Sophie, the Doctor, and Jake are just too fun to write.

In the original draft, all three of them went into a gas station to get some food after spending a very long time looking out for crime. They met up with three gunmen and easily pwned them.

Well, I didn't like the way their personalities were showing. So I fiddled around with it while completely rushed on the caffeine. Now I like this version better--Sophie goes in alone, meets with a lone criminal, attempts lone pwnage, and does it pretty well. She gets shot, but "the good thing about superstrength? Usually comes in a package deal with invulnerability." She picks the bullet out of her stomach and spends a few lines complaining about how hard it's going to be to wash out when her companions come and see what's going on.

In the original, they were quite cardboard. But I like the way they are now. Sophie is brave, but she's also reckless and impatient about charging the armed robber head-on. Jake is kind and sweet, but he also freaks out when the Doctor exhibits some of his abilities over the course of the chapter. The Doctor is calm and collected and bad-ass, except when he finds Sophie has been shot and doesn't seem to really notice that there is a BULLET in her BODY. (He came in while she was complaining to herself about how hard it would be to wash out.)

They seem more human in this draft. I like that.

2006-12-26T22:23:00.000-05:00

Why is it that every time I poke around ic.org, I always wind up finding, not farm communes with shared labor and the open discussion and exchange of ideas, but what sounds rather like rural gated communities?

"Hi, we're the (blah blah blah) Community. We live in separate houses, don't share our finances, don't share our labor, don't have any shared practices or philosophies, don't share our meals, and don't even see each other a lot of days, but we're still an intentional community. But we're excellent conversationalists and have an interest in nude hot-tubbing together at night. Come and join us just for that! But you'll have to go to your own home afterward."

All I want is a frickin' farm commune that doesn't require a hefty join-fee upfront and that operates every day of the damn year (a lot of them I've dug up don't even stay open except in the spring and summer).

But most of what I've found sounds like an average neighborhood. They're supposed to be communes and intentional communities, not gated communities, dammit.

2006-12-15T23:28:00.000-05:00

Nyaaaaa... the concert was just magical. Best night of my life. I don't think anything will be able to ever top it.

First of all, nobody actually bothered tearing or even LOOKING at my ticket. SA-WEET. I managed to ditch my crappy seat and breeze to the front of my section. I didn't risk my luck in trying to get to the very front, but nevertheless, I was a lot closer. The people behind me at my actual seat were annoying--whistling every time anybody so much as moved. And not just a normal whistle. Those deafening, ear-piercing whistles. Bah! So I got up and leaned against the bannister for the stairs down to the first floor and stared moonily at them the whole time.

The Pretenders were okay. I was never much of a Pretenders fan, but I liked Chrissie Hynde.

The Who were just... magic, for lack of a better word. Roger apologized for sounding very slightly hoarse (I didn't notice it until he pointed it out). "It doesn't fucking matter to you lot anyway. It's still rock n' roll." I squeed while everyone else laughed, and I think he shot me an odd look (although I might've been imagining it--entirely possible). Pete took over talking for Roger and they dove right into I Can't Explain first thing. It must be strange to see a big teenage girl almost lunging over the stairwell and sighing/swooning. Perhaps not for THEM, but for everyone else. Pete bragged: "Have you ever seen anybody jump around the stage as much as I do? *ponder* Maybe, maybe the entire combined weight of the Red Hot Chili Peppers... but only during their warmup." He also mentioned, "I've never had sex in Ohio before." ~~I would have given him the honor.~~ *coughs* He later amended it: "Oh, wait. Never mind, I HAVE had sex in Ohio. I had a girlfriend who lived in fucking Columbus."

They played the Wire and Glass mini-opera in its entirety. It was fab. :3 They also did a few other songs from the new album--when they played Black Widow's Eyes, I nearly fainted. That's my favorite off of the album. ♥ " ... Since we know you like this kind of stuff, we'll play this cheesy old thing." You Better, You Bet. It was great. I know it was a silly fantasy of mine, but Roger seemed to look right over into my section during it. I know he wasn't--the man has better things to do than point at silly fangirls--but I can dream, can't I?

They eventually played Baba O'Riley and Pete started chuckling and talking about how so much of music was great fans like us. " ... Like this song. It's about... digging in a field. 'LET'S GO DIG IN A FIELD!'" Everyone laughed. I shouted "YES! LET'S!" Nobody heard me. I would totally go dig in a field with old Bone there. :P Sometimes, though, during the concert, it looked like he was pointing in my direction. I wonder if he was? Like I said, probably not. Probably coincidence that his fingers ended up pointing that way.

He mentioned that, after the concert, they were headed toward Michigan. Everybody started booing, and Pete started snickering.

Absolutely great concert. Pino was great on the bass and Zak was great on the drums. But Pete and Roger were the best of all. ♥

Oh. And...I GOT TO SEE THEM A BIT CLOSER. :D

I had to go out back anyway, because that's where my uncle was going to pick me up. I noticed, going down the stairs, that, "Hey! That's where the buses are! JACKPOT!" So I lurked around out back, hanging on the fence and peering down a footbridge.

I SAW PETE. :D I didn't manage to get his attention to say hello and get well, but the most important thing is, I saw him. A Little is Enough and all that kind of stuff. *swoons and sighs* I can die happy now.

In a way, I'm glad I didn't get his attention. He and Roger were both a little under-the-weather (Pete had the sniffles, Roger had a bit of a chest cold), and I didn't want it getting worse by attempting to get them to stand out in the Ohio cold to chat with a silly fangirl.

But I'm glad I at least saw Pete leave the building.

I don't know why, but it was almost like it was... significant. It wasn't. But it's almost like seeing a pair of creaky old men jumping around a stage was important or magic in such a mundane life spent swooning over said creaky old men.

I can't explain, I suppose, as cheesy as that sounds.

But there it it--a magical night spent screaming at old men.

*sighs and flitters eyes*

Random thought: I wonder if Keith Moon was able to touch his nose with his tongue?

2006-12-05T21:44:00.000-05:00

It's almost time! *does a dance*

I go up to Ohio on Friday. The weather is supposed to be fairly nice--dry, but really freakin' cold. My uncle emailed me and said it was 17 on Monday morning. Jesus!

Mom and I bought some new warm clothes--sweaters and sweatshirts. It was kind of surprising--most of them were in the women's section and fit perfectly. Usually, I have to go dig around the men's section for my clothes, because I've got pretty big arms and women's clothes usually don't accommodate them. I particularly like the penguin sweater. I collect penguin-related things, and Christmastime is always a gold mine.

I hope my uncle's physical appearance hasn't changed radically in the past seven years. I haven't seen him since then, and I remember him as a guy with grayish teeth, a big almost-fumanchu mustache, and thick black hair. He said either him or Papaw Ralph would be picking me up at the bus station.

Been working on collecting up my things and putting them together--I think I'll actually pack tomorrow, and pack my food up on Friday. I feared my uncle would refuse to buy me vegetarian food or mock me mercilessly for my dietary needs, so I'm bringing up a small, lunchbox-sized coolerful of food with me--veggie soups, veggie chili, black bean burgers, smart-dogs, and veggie-slices.

Tomorrow, we're going shopping for a couple of other things I wanted to take on the bus--a roll of toilet paper, waterless hand sanitizer, protein bars, and maybe a bottle of ginger ale.

Then, on Thursday, I'm going to sleep in. XD

2006-12-01T19:17:00.000-05:00

Ahh, I've been busy. I got my tickets, I got my travel guide to Columbus, and such. :3 Been planning and all that.

But that's about it. Planning, taking very long walks to sort my head out, screaming at FTCC for locking me out of the program (though they let me back in, I'm still mad), and writing.

Now I'm home waiting for Doctor Who to come on. :3 I'm hopelessly addicted now. XP

I made my dad's present. It's the Savatage S-logo on a painted background of various blues and purples. The man's so hard to do anything for; he's got shitloads of money, so he buys what he wants, when he wants. And he's not really an artsy kind of guy. So I just decided to paint him a picture. Last year, we got him a small brewery set. Now making boozeahol is his hobby.

I don't know what to get Karen and Gram. Karen's got the same problem as Dad--she gets what she wants whenever she feels like it. Maybe I'll make her a basket. I don't know. She likes baskets--you should've seen our kitchen before it went up in flames. Baskets every-fuckin'-where.

I still don't know about Gram, though.

2006-11-22T14:37:00.000-05:00

I'm at Dad's for Thanksgiving. I've been pawing through our vast CD collection and managed to find some Motley Crue and David Lee Roth. Huzzah! I've been trying to find Just Like Paradise for awhile--it's a great song, and I love it. Dave's the man. *Dances* This must be just like livin' in paradise~ and I don't wanna go home~

Anyway, I'm cold. D: And kind of bored. I wanna go on a walk, but I don't have my water backpack with me (and I think it'd freeze anyway). Even though it's a minor change of scenery from Mom's to here, I'm still bored and I wanna go out!

Is it December yet?

I'm gonna watch CSI tomorrow. ROGER'S ON. :D *fangirls and fawns over* He looks good with dark hair. Better with blond, but still good with that dark hair. I like watching Rog act; I personally think he IS a good actor. And I'll watch any damn thing with him in it. I'm such a fuckin' weirdo sometimes.

2006-11-21T01:53:00.001-05:00

Dear FTCC:

FUCK YOU.

As well as the entire county educational system.

No Love at All,

Leiko

2006-11-13T02:20:00.000-05:00

I'm obsessed with the song Endless Wire lately. *pets album* I love it. Far as I'm concerned, Pete's the mad old man from the song. He's the magic music man. :3

In other news: I'm so tired lately. I'm so bored. I'm basically just killing time until I get on the bus up to Ohio, which is still a couple of weeks away. I wanna go! I wanna see new things and get my energy back! But being here, where I am, is so boring. I don't have anybody my age or sensibilities to talk to. I don't have my books so I can read. There's absolutely nothing on TV at any time, and I'm quickly growing bored with the Internet too.

So now I'm just waiting for Ohio. I'm waiting for the bus. I'm just waiting to get out of here! I wanna go!

But it's still a few weeks, so I've buried myself in music and in sleep. I crash for about ten hours a day during the sunlight hours and sleep the day away, because there's simply nothing to do around here. Maybe I'll go hang out at the gas station for a few hours later today, or take a few-hour walk up the other end of the road.

At any rate, I'll have to concoct some excuse to get out of the house. As mean as it sounds, I'm sick of spending time with my stepfather and all of his relations. I've never liked his kids, and now his mother is here, too, and she bugs me for some inexplicable reason.

I'm so bored.

I hope Nasalam answers soon; I want to go visit their commune. Or maybe I'll go hang out with the Catholic Workers (...ignoring for a second that I'm not a Catholic). That's the kind of stuff I want to do! I want to work closely with the Earth, I don't want to concern myself with money, and I want to earn what I deserve from my brothers and sisters of the Earth. But nobody wants me to pursue this dream. It depresses me, and I feel more lonely than ever when people snicker condescendingly at me.

I think that's why I kill so much time sleeping and listening to my music and learning lots of useless music trivia. It's because I want a fantasy life, since I'm so often denied the friendship I want in real life (though not for a lack of trying). So my dreams become my real life. I develop a strange attachment to the people who appear in my dreams and I concern myself with the musicians I'm so fond of because it distracts me.

It's sometimes a sad realization.

But I can press on and keep on dreaming, and the fantasies are what keep me happy and sane. So thank God for Nate, Seth, Persephone, and the other figments of my imagination!

2006-11-10T21:14:00.000-05:00

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

*tears hair out*

Man, fuck the GED. They keep coming up with retarded rules to keep me from GETTING the damn thing. I'm not kidding. You all know I finished every last shred of my work in 29 hours. A little more than a day. Finished. Over. Done with it.

So I PM the guy about it, asking when the fuck I'm supposed to take my test. (Except I put it in a politer way.) He responds, "Oh, you only have 29 hours logged in. You have to have 75." See, they didn't tell me that at any point during the rest of the ordeal.

So what the hell am I supposed to do? Just sit around staring at a screenful of finished work for the next five days? It's fucking stupid. I finished all of my work, passed it all with flying colors, and that's that. I shouldn't have to sit around killing empty time just to meet requirements.

But since I'm fucked like that, I'm taking my brother's suggestion. He suggested that I just leave the screen up, move the mouse around occasionally to keep it from going on screensaver, and watch TV or do some other fun activity while the hours go past. Sounds good to me! So that's what I'm doing. I'm watching my soaps instead.

But man, fuck these stupid rules they keep coming up with.

And it may just be paranoia, or just sitting and contorting funny during the Week of Massive Bleeding, but dear God, I hope that oozy stuff on my backside is not the product of another cyst. And Dad thought I had a bad year last year--last year was downright enjoyable compared to all of this crap that's coming up lately.

2006-11-09T18:30:00.000-05:00

Dinnertime conversation:

Me: Dad told me that Jill (my brother's girlfriend) is pregnant.
Mom: Yeah. Due in March.
Stepsibling #1: You know what that makes Amy (my mother)? Grandma!
Mom: (to me) You know what that makes you?
Me: What?
Mom: AUNTIE EM! *hums Wicked Witch theme*
Me: I wanted to be Glinda. :(

Yeah, my real name is Emily, so I guess it does make me Auntie Em. Much as I hate the prospect of being an aunt to anybody... but I saw it coming SOMEDAY. I don't want children myself and seek to be sterilized as soon as I can, but my brother's always wanted some kids, so I knew that someday, I'd wind up as Auntie Em. XP

I'm going to be the crazy aunt, though. ...Actually, really, I'll be the kid's ONLY aunt, because it's only Josh and I. No more siblings. So I'm going to be the crazy bitch aunt who tree-sits, attends CodePINK protests, and tells the kid how to grow marijuana in a darkened closet. :3 Ufufufufufufufu! I bet they won't want me over babysitting. Good. I hate babysitting.

2006-11-08T17:41:00.000-05:00

I sent away for a free map of Columbus. I figure it'd be a good idea. I can't go around a place I haven't been for seven years purely by memory, you know? Besides, if I have to hoof it to the Value Center Arena, I'll need a map from Hilliard to there. XP

In other news: These mechanical pencils I have SUCK. They give you like, an inch of led every time you push the end of it. I don't NEED an inch of lead in order to write--I need very little, in fact. So I went through a bloody pencil within half an hour just trying to write a character profile for my ghost-hunters. Jesus.

In other other news: I hate my reproductive organs. GAAAAAARGH. (Happy Week of Massive Bleeding, everyone.)

In other other other news: I had a dream that I was a swan-dancer in a ballet. Despite the fact I've never danced... Anyway, the girls in the locker room were mean to me and no matter how much I fought back, they just got worse. But Nate appeared, said I looked lovely, and dragged me on a camping trip, which was infinitely more fun than the ballet dancing. But we didn't have extra clothes, so I had to wear my swan-dress on the trip, until Nate gave up some of his clothes and I was able to roll around and act like my tomboyish self again. :D Yayz!

2006-11-08T01:21:00.000-05:00

Every month, Mom asks me to draw some seasonal picture for the refrigerator--an attempt to make up for lost childhood time, I suppose. I drew two pictures I really liked this month, but I guess she didn't like them. Here's a replica of my favorite done in MSPaint:

I hate Thanksgiving. I make it an attempt to give thanks for every day I'm alive, so I don't see why there needs to be a special day for it. I'm grateful to be alive every day, and I make it known. Also, I hate that we glorify the pilgrims so much. Fleeing from religious intolerance, then proceeding to hate on the Indians so hard. The white settlers fucked over the Indians. The Indians don't get much recognition. It's rather sad, I think. The settlers and the cowboys perpetrated a great injustice upon the native folks here, but they're so glorified in the annals of American culture, but Indians either show up in the corner as insane savages or slightly tanned white people.

I kind of agree with Abbie Hoffman from the intro to "Steal This Book." The Natives were cheated, bigtime, but it was portrayed as fairness instead. "The Indians should have offed Jimmy Stewart in every movie, and we should have cheered ourselves hoarse."

In other news: I sent away for a map of Columbus. It'll really suck if I have to wander all the way around Columbus looking for the Value Center Arena. So I think it'd be a good idea to have a city map in my backpack.

2006-11-07T01:15:00.000-05:00

I've been plannin' stuff out for my week in Ohio. One month away! Just a month and I'll be on my way to see the boys. X3

So far, I've not planned on going anywhere really "special." At least, not anywhere like a museum or other attraction. I'd like to visit the cemetery in Hilliard while I'm there. My grandma Silsi is buried there, and it's been years since I've visited. I always like visiting cemeteries. Perhaps it's creepy or morbid of me, but I do like visiting them. There are tons of old graves there, and I always like visiting old graves. Keep them company, like.

I'd also like to visit Atonement Lutheran Church. That's the church we used to go to when we lived up there. I always liked Pastor Bell (he just retired this year, I dunno who's runnin' things now). I wonder if he'd remember me if I visited?

And I'd just like to take a walk around the town. I've never been able to just explore the way I want to explore the town--we always had someplace to go or something to do if we visited up there as a family, but now that I'll be up there alone, I'll have a chance to just observe things. I wanna see things I haven't seen in 14 years. Dad and Mum would never slow down so I could see them. But now I can. I'm quite looking forward to it. I wonder if it'll snow while I'm there? You never know, I suppose. I'd like to build a REAL snowman or throw some REAL snowballs... down here, you get probably an inch of snow every other year and it melts by the afternoon, so you never really get to make a proper snowman or throw decent snowballs. It's more like snow pellets and deformed shapeless lumps with snowman accents in them.

I'll have to pack my warm clothes, too, and perhaps my boots--I don't want my Yellow Submarine shoes getting soggy if it DOES snow while I'm there. Mom got me a bitchin' Jimi Hendrix sweater, and I wanna wear it soon. X3 Yayz!

Even if I don't find any museums or anything to go to, I'll always have something to do. I don't suppose it would do at all to merely loaf around on Johnny's couch, would it?

2006-11-06T00:25:00.000-05:00

Yes, I'm starting to think it may be time to visit a psychiatrist or someone of the sort. Believe I'm starting to go quite paranoid. I smell smoke where there isn't any, I sometimes see haze in front of my eyes when there shouldn't be any (though this could be related to family-wide eye problems rather than budding paranoia), I stay up extremely late when I smell something that reminds me of burning material--like today, with the dust in the heater. I jerk out of a sound sleep if I smell Mom making poached eggs or something in the kitchen and go to investigate. I haven't used the stove or the oven in months--everything I eat lately has either been microwaved or doesn't require cooking at all. Just a few minutes ago, I was down on my hands and knees sniffing around the air vents because I thought I smelled smoke again.

I know this isn't normal behavior, and it worries me. I'm supposed to be the sane one, persevering through hardship and shining on through with optimism and all that. I've been able to pass through everything else and turn a light on that--losing my childhood home of eleven years, LOTS of personal possessions, and the expected trauma when one wakes up to one's house burning down. I've gotten through with that just fine, and I've moved on with my life. But it seems as though paranoia is welling up within me. It's starting to interfere with my life, and I don't like it. I also get the feeling that Mom and Gram are starting to worry, too. First from the report that I smelled something burny this morning (Mom confirms it was just burning dust from the heater kicking in for the first time this year). And now, just this evening, I told Gram that I smelled something smoky in this end of the house. She didn't smell anything, but told me to come and get her if the smell got stronger.

And I don't know whether to trust my nose or not anymore. I don't know whether I'm really smelling it or whether it's just in my likely-crazed mind. That's the bad thing about this--on the one hand, it would serve me well and keep me on guard. On the other, it would end up as a "boy who cried wolf" kind of scenario. Or I'll just wind up like the title character from American McGee's Alice. Jesus!

I wonder if I'm just being silly about this, or whether I really should go and get checked out or something. I mean, if it's interfering that much with my life, I probably should hitch a ride to the nearest psychiatrist's office, right? I wonder what Mom would say. I'll have to flag her down sometime soon and ask or leave her a note or something.

What do you guys think? Am I being silly about all this? Or do I have a legitimate concern?

2006-11-04T17:34:00.000-05:00

It came! It finally came! *snuggles ticket* My preciousssssss.... preciousssssss.... *strokes it affectionately* ... What?

Anyway, I got it and locked it up safely in my cabinet, along with my Stephen King movies, my copy of Who's Next, and a flowerpot with nothing in it. It's safe. I'mma guard it with my LIFE.

*bounces* I can't wait, nyan!

2006-11-03T00:54:00.000-05:00

I really like writing about the Phantom Saints. They're such a bunch of oddballs. They're just trying to put their various superpowers to good use as superheroes, but they're constantly blocked from joining superhero teams on very stupid grounds. Sophie Townshend--a girl with the power to cause good and bad luck--is rejected for not being pretty enough for the pinup calendar. Nate Fitzcairn--a superstrong, invulnerable guy--is barred on the grounds of being too pleasant and friendly. Doctor M--your typical mysterious space-drifter--is kicked out because he offers to head up a committee on alternative conflict resolution.

Think about comic books today. Everything is so grim and gritty; everyone manages to fit the Great Standard of Beauty; everyone seems to solve things by beating them into submission. Well, what if there were people who didn't fit into these categories? How would Sophie get by in the Marvel-verse? How would Nate get into the Vertigo imprint? How would Doctor M do anything in DC? They wouldn't.

The Tower Guard--the team that they're rejected from--is made up of today's superheroic archetypes--the dark, the amoral, the sexually-charged. They're like the Watchmen, more concerned with public image than with actually saving people. That's what Sophie, Nate, and Doctor M want to do. They have no concerns about their public image. Hell, Nate looks like he shops in the junkyard. But they manage to save more people than the Tower Guard does. Sophie manages to keep a train on its rails and foils a robbery. Nate saves an old lady and her cats from a raging fire in an apartment house. Doctor M robs from the rich and gives to the poor. But they're never given any positive attention in their home city. All of the credit is given to the Tower Guard, who never bother giving any credit to the Phantom Saints (as Doctor M calls their ragtag little team). The police hate them and often try to catch them just to arrest them. The public thinks that Sophie should become a housewife and mother instead of an ass-kicking mistress of fortune.

They're kind of like the Runaways, but they're more-or-less grown up. (Sophie and Nate often sit together on the couch on Saturday mornings watching cartoons and eating Cocoa Puffs.) And they aren't intended to be all that serious. It's more of a silly foray into "real" superherodom.

I love their reactions to their rejections in the first part of the story. Sophie is dragged away by security robots after she starts chattering about how heroism has nothing to do with a sex-kitten image and how offensive to feminism that was. Doctor M is literally thrown out--of a window--after suggesting that they form a committee dedicated to nonviolent conflict resolution and rehabilitation of criminals. Nate is considered, but thrown out because Captain Mars sees a pair of sexy blond twins snogging in the hallway. Even though they have totally useless powers, they're immediately accepted and Nate is booted out of the Watchtower.

They're just fun to write. X3 Roffles~

And their headquarters is an old boxcar in the railyard outside of town. "Not every hero can be Bruce Wayne," observes Doctor M. They're all completely broke and can't even afford a slummy apartment between them. Superheroism doesn't really pay much.

It's so fun to write the Phantom Saints. XD Their personalities are great and their interactions are, too.

If I had any wish, it would be to get this published into a real comic. It'd be so funny. XD

2006-11-01T22:16:00.000-05:00

I'm madly in love with the new Who album. I got it today as a reward for toughing out Wal-mart on payday surrouned by CHYULDRUN. And even though I didn't get one of those jet-set-with-the-Who things I wanted so terribly, I'm happy that I've got the album--just hearing them is enough for me. *nods*

I particularly like Black Widow's Eyes. I'm not sure why I like it as much as I do. But it's a brilliant song. Brilliant album, even if everybody else is neutral on it. I've come to accept that not everything is gonna be Who's Next. And that made me fall for this album easier. Much love for it. ♥

In other news: I've been a bit cranky all day today. Loneliness getting to me, I suppose. Or just frustration with being around CHYULDRUN. I don't like kids. I love everyone in this world, but that doesn't necessarily mean I have to LIKE everyone. I'm sick of having to act in a child-friendly manner--I'm tired of having to be lumped in with kids--I wanna go back to Dad's. Even if he's a miserable bastard, I'd rather hang out with him and be treated as a functional adult and intelligent life-form rather than an over-emotional child.

Also, I'm sick of hearing shitty music all over this house. I wanna go back and listen to Dad's XM radio--hair metal, classic rock, oldies, and even disco. I'm tired of hearing "BUT HILARY DUFF IS SUCH A GREAT ARTIST" from my mother. Jesus! I thought she had better taste.

I can't wait until our house is fixed. Or until I visit Dad's again, or until I go visit Johnny up in Ohio. I'm looking quite forward to the latter--it's just a little more than a month! EEEEEE! I'll get to see my boys. Even if it's from a distance, I'll see and hear them live, and that's the important thing. :3

I can't wait to go on a trip by myself. I'm tired of having to wait for kids to tag along all the time. But this time, I'll be by myself, going as fast as I can to the place where I want to be, with the people I want to be with. Is it December yet?

2006-10-30T15:04:00.000-05:00

Got all scheduled for my test, bought a new pair of thigh-high black-and-white striped socks, blah blah blah.

The real news is I'VE GOT MY WHO TICKETS! SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!1!!!!!1!!!11! Section 307, row L, seat 10. :D It's kind of far off to the left of the stage, but dammit, I'll BE there, and that's what's important. Also, I've a way to manage to wander around the arena. I'm a sneaky little witch, y'know. Now I just have to see if Dad can convince Uncle Johnny into letting me crash at his place for the night.

*does the Joyful Dance of Who Love*

And maybe if my ninja skills are up to scratch, I'll seekritly sneak out and lurk out back. Just to lurk out back. I rather seriously doubt I'll catch a ROADIE for an autograph, let alone Pete, Roger, Zak, Simon, and everyone else. But it'd be nice just to lurk out in the bushes to see them a bit closer than I could on stage. (STFU. I'm not a creepy fangirl. NOT NOT NOT.)

In other news: I had a dream that I wandered into a summer camp looking for food and water, but was cast out very rudely by a "Christian" owner of the camp. D: He yelled at me and gave me three minutes before he set the dogs on my heatheny little arse. D: It wasn't the most pleasant dream I've ever had, but Baba magically descended from out of nowhere and helped me out. Hooray for Meher Baba! Super-Avatar!

2006-10-29T04:30:00.000-05:00

We're going to the mall today. :D I only go to the mall a few times a year, but I always enjoy going, just to be around the people there. Also, BOOKSTORE! Yay! I love the bookstore. ♥ It's so fun there, and you always hear something amusing--last time I heard a couple of people arguing about the historical accuracy of Silver Ravenwolf. I'm sure Mama Silver is a very nice woman and a joy to be around, but she isn't really the best historian when it comes to Wicca. It amused me very much.

We're also going to Hot Topic to see if they've got black and red tights or socks or something. They usually have a decent selection of stripey legwear. Huzzah! I didn't find my socks at Dad's. D: So there went that...

In other news, tomorrow, we're going to see the FTCC people about taking the damn test already. I wanna see my boys! I have to hurry up and get my bus seat reserved, buy my ticket, and beg Johnny to let me stay over at his house for a couple of nights. *nods* Lots to do between now and December 11.

2006-10-28T03:17:00.000-05:00

I made a cute LJ Halloween icon, whittled down from a page of Tarot: Witch of the Black Rose. It was from a scene where four vampire cheerleaders were doing very naughty things with Boo Cat the were-catgirl. It was hot. XP But I only clipped out one of the happy vampires for the icon. I don't think I could squeeze the awesomeness of a lesbian orgy into a 100x100 space... pity. (What? I like lesbians.)

Anyway, I went to Dad's earlier and retrieved most of my music. I couldn't dig up my copy of With the Beatles or my Ringo CDs, though. D: There were, like, 8 large boxes full of CDs, and I didn't wanna keep Mum waiting out in the car, so I just got MOST of my music and took it home.

Also tweaked my costume some. I'm going to some festival thingo with my grandma this weekend, and they're having a costume contest--I'm going to give this a test-run. I clipped off the old wings that I made by hand (they turned out terrible!) and replaced them with nice store-bought glittery devil wings. And I still can't find my black and red socks, but I did find my black and white striped socks, and they're okay for now... though I would've liked to have the black and red thigh-highs instead. They don't slump down so far as these socks do.

I got some spraypaint, too, so I'm going to fix up my shoes before I go, too. Just gotta wait for sunrise... XD It's been raining all day, so I couldn't really paint them when I got home from Wal-mart.

In other news: Only a few days until Endless Wire! SQUEE! *bounces up and down happily* Also, I must get my tickets for the boys soon. But even if I don't manage tickets, I'm going to hover around Columbus. I don't care how creepy that sounds. I worked hard to keep up my end of the deal with Mom, and I've got my mind made up--I wanna see Roger n' Pete n' Zak n' Simon and everyone else!

I watched a video of Zak on the Squeezebox thing on the tour website. He sounds a LOT like Ringo. *giggles fangirlishly* I love listening to both of them talking. ♥ Hell, I just love listening to British people talk, no matter what the dialect or tone of voice. British accents just melt me.

2006-10-27T03:46:00.000-05:00

*does a jig* Today is ALREADY shaping up to be a good day. I emailed my Dad and asked him if I could come pick up my music--he said it was salvaged and cleaned quickly. OH MY BABIES, HOW I'VE MISSED YOU. *fawns over CDs* ...what? Anyway, he replied and said Brian was back home. Brian is our neighbor and Dad's only friend. A few months ago, he was hospitalized because he apparently had blood vessels strangling his spinal cord; but he's back home now, so he must be a LOT better. And as much as that guy creeps me out, I'm really happy that he's back--it's just great that he's doing well again! *dances*

I also got a package. I never get mail--hell, I rarely get email, except from TheWhoTour.com and Beliefnet's Buddhist Wisdom. But he said I got a package yesterday, and that makes me happy. Unexpected mail is one of the simplest, yet greatest pleasures one can know. Unless the package has no return address and it's ticking ominously. Then it's a right drag, but this one's apparently okay. So hooray! It's like Christmas has come early. :3

Wonder if my black and red socks are there? I need them for my Halloween costume. If they aren't there, I'll hitch a ride to the mall and visit Hot Topic. They usually have a good selection of striped legwear.

You know, Keith Moon was a terrible singer, but I love hearing him do it. He just has so much energy and enthusiasm about it, it's infectious. Even if you're feeling lazy and depressed, listening to Two Sides of the Moon can perk you right up, just feeling all that energy and the lust for life. Good Lord, if Keith were still alive today... *laughs*

2006-10-25T01:05:00.000-05:00

So, recap: House burned down back in August, have been staying in Breeder Hell ever since.
Don't get me wrong--I love my mother. She's awesome. It's the CHYULDRUN and their Duh that I can't stand. More and more often, though, I seem to be stuck babysitting these kids. I don't know why. Yeah, I never have anything to do. I never plan my activities for the day. It's more a spur-of-the-moment thing, in which I'll wander off at random and not return for several hours just because I'm out enjoying the country scenery rather than wasting my time around Duh Supreme. I've got nothing better to do, honestly. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

But here's the thing--these kids? They're in their early teens. You'd think they have sense enough to keep an eye on themselves by about 12 or 13. They know how to operate a telephone in case of emergencies. (Hell, they know the emergency numbers better than I do. The only emergency number I know for certain is 911.) They know not to swallow the stuff under the sink. They've been told not to play in traffic and not to go back into the woods and not to poke roadkill with a stick. They've been told not to hitch rides from shady-looking people, not to accept candy or rope from strangers, and not to throw a brick straight up in the air.

So where do I come in? Why do I need to stay behind and watch them, when they can function by themselves reasonably well? Hell, when my brother and I started staying home alone, we were somewhere around 8 and 10. We have not once grievously injured ourselves while home alone. We've never had shady figures come pounding on our door demanding to see us. Over the years, we learned how to take care of ourselves.

Isn't that the point of raising your damn kids? Teaching them to take care of themselves, instead of making them depend on others to take care of them every hour of the day and night? You've gotta cut the cord sometime, folks. Besides--these kids will be at school (or on the bus ride home) until about 4, and Mum will be home by then.

So what's the point?

(Really, Leiko is just bitter because she can't go to her brother's new hippie town to help him move. She's been looking forward to this for weeks now, and really wanted to see the mountains again. *sulks*)

I always seem to be the one left behind, in whatever it is. I'm being denied the fun of a road-trip to a town that I so desperately want to visit just because of Mum's stupid stepchildren. I'm never the one picked for a team. I'm never the one that's approached at parties or festivals for conversation. I often wonder, when will someone choose me? Me, above everyone else?

That's why I enjoy my dreams so much. In my dreams, I have people who would choose me every time, even if offered someone prettier, smarter, more interesting, or whatever, to hang around with. In my dreams, I'm the winner, but I never am in real life. No matter how hard I try, I'm always somehow rejected--it's just a matter of degree.

Why, hello there, Week of Massive Bleeding. I haven't missed you. D: st00pid unused reproductive system.

2006-10-23T23:11:00.000-05:00

It's weird. I'm weird, I suppose.

I'm watching a show about Who's Next and I've almost fainted. It feels like I've got a fever and my heart is pounding at a million miles an hour. I'm told that this is what being in love is like. But what am I in love with? Music, I suppose. An era in which I never belonged, but I feel like I do. I've never felt this way about the company I tend to keep. I don't even feel this way about my own family. But whenever I hear some particular songs, or see some particular videoclips, my heart pounds, and I feel like I'm about to melt. I like the people behind these songs, but there's something bigger than them that I love as well--their spirit, I suppose, to put it very cheesily. There's something about them that's just beyond anybody I've met in this time. There's some fiery, earthy, wild spirit about the Who, the Beatles, the Doors, that nobody else has today.

Nobody that I've met, anyway.

It's a wild, unitary, beautiful spirit that they possess and share between them. It's a spirit everyone else had at one time, too, but over time, in the past 40 years, everybody has tamed it and settled into what Pete called "spoon-fed" life, a life that everybody else wants them to live. But even today, the people who are left from that fantastically wild, bizarre, scattershot era have that spirit. Roger and Pete still have that craziness that they had back then; who cares if they're old enough to be my grandfathers? They have a spirit that people that are MY age don't have. They're old and batshit insane, but in a beautiful way. It's just... gone now. Everybody my age wants to settle in and live a life centered around money and material satisfaction. Nobody wants to take risks and chances and have a little fun in their life. But those old nutjobs--the hippies, the old beat poets, the leftover Yippies, the various twelve-cylinder wackaloons--they still live their lives according to their wild unrules.

I wish I lived back then. I imagine I would have a few friends if I did.

I don't fancy myself having such a wild, fiery spirit as they do; I imagine I have a more grounded, earthy spirit. Or a watery, tranquil one. But I wish I were around people who had fire in their hearts. Everybody's so dead now--whether they really ARE stuffed in a grave or whether they're walking down the street in the beautiful autumn sunshine. They have no animation in them. They shuffle and slump and stoop and don't have any enthusiasm for their lives.

But no matter how miserable some of these older folks are, they seem to be grateful to be alive and make the most of it. You meet an old lady these days and she's been skydiving, rock-climbing, hitchhiking across the desert, everything. But you'll talk to someone my age and their life experiences extend to the couch and the DVD player. They have no ambition and no desire to chase spirit, their heart, nothing. It makes me very sad to see that everybody has just given up, and the only people I have left to relate to are in their 50s and 60s and 70s.

And the girl who prefers to hang out with old-folks is a weird one, you know? So I keep to myself instead. Nobody really wants to be my friend because I'm so strange. I've TRIED, believe me, to make some friends my age, but nobody my age (at least, around these parts) is interested in philosophy, the environment, travel, GOOD music, or generally anything I'm interested in. People my age are interested in getting laid, getting wasted, or getting shitloads of money with which to accomplish these activities. I've very little interest in getting laid, getting wasted, or getting shitloads of money.

So that makes me even more of an outcast. I try to talk to people, try to encourage them to listen to their hearts or listen to The Note, or whatever... but they'll have none of it. They're more interested in What Jimmy Did With His Girlfriend or What's Going On At Taco Bell.

I often wish I could stumble into a magical portal back to 1967 or so, so I could be with people who would listen to me or at least notice that things beyond money and rap exist. But then it occurs to me--perhaps I've got a reason for being here and now instead of there and then. And that's what keeps me moving and grooving. Perhaps I DON'T have any deeper purpose. But I like to think I do.

I'm in love, head over heels, with something that isn't even physical or material.

Am I weird?

2006-10-20T19:33:00.000-05:00

http://www.rubbermag.com/news/0610/061019_02n.html

*shrieks*

*hyperventilates*

*shrieks again and passes out*

*coughs and gets up*

ANYWAY. I'd do just about anything to get one of those tickets. I pray my copy has one of them. Of course, the universe seems to be set against me achieving any of my dreams, but I can still hold out hope.

I got back from the fall festival at Rockfish. It was pretty cool. I didn't do much--there wasn't much TO do--but I did win a little necklace from a tic-tac-toe game. It was shaped like a fishhook. No, I'm not sure WHY it's shaped like a fishhook. But it's nice.

Talked to some pretty cool guys while I was there. One of them worked there--he suggested trying to apply pretty soon if I wanted to be a counselor. Now comes the golden question--hitching trip or summer camp? Tough call, man, tough call.

Then there was some guy with a music system. I chatted with him about music. One of the bands sounded like AC/DC. I mentioned that and he said, "Well, this is all Christian music." I replied, "Well, I didn't figure you were sitting around here playing 'Highway to Hell.'"

The last guy was named Jeff, and he was cool. We shared costuming tips, chatted about Halloween, and played with the fire. I liked him. He was nice. He said he was going as the Big Bad Wolf and shared tips for modifying a mask. (It's kind of weird--I had a dream about a guy in a big bad wolf mask last week. I'm sure it's completely unrelated, but I still thought it funny.) I wonder if he'll be there tomorrow? Not like he'd chat with me again, I suppose.

Back to pining away for one of those golden tickets. *whines*

2006-10-20T01:16:00.000-05:00

People say I'm a very creative writer, and I think that's my problem. I create too much sometimes and end up shelving every project because I eventually come up with a different idea that sounds cooler at that moment and write that... then I do it again. There are some stories I really love, though, and refuse to abandon. They're just put on periodical hiatuses and resumed every couple of months.

Carpe Noctem--my baby--is an example of this. I first came up with it after having a series of dreams in about ninth grade that featured a vampire who followed me around. I named him Seth and started writing stories about him, accompanied by a thinly-veiled self-insert named Lucy. The story evolves and changes with me--when I first came up with it, it was a very dark, depressing, and disturbing tale about murder, violence, and homicidal jealousy. But now it's more lighthearted and cheerful in tone. I really love how Seth doesn't really change, though--he's always gruff and surly, but he's got a strange love for humanity despite the fact that they hate on him so hard for being a vampire. His origin has changed, though--originally a street magician from New Orleans, now he just enjoys making up random tales of origin and telling everybody he meets a different one every time he speaks to them. He's crazy, but in a very good way, and that's what I love about him, even if he IS just a figment of my imagination.

Harpy Angel is another one. It's still kept its dark, rather disturbing tone, but it's changed a bit in its various incarnations. Originally, she was recruited by a dragon for some odd reason--I forget why--but then it became more heavily Christian-toned and her life was traded for her mother's when she was an infant. Her mother died in childbirth, and her father offered to give up Meredith in exchange for his wife living again. The angel making the deal agreed and later turned Meredith into a "harpy angel"--a figure of vengeance, smiting those who break God's supposed laws. But she began questioning her duties and even God's laws, particularly because some of her new friends (attracted by her mission) were so-called "lawbreakers"--a gay fallen angel, the Black Horseman (who had converted to Buddhism and taken to wandering the world with his companion), a demon girl who really wanted to be an angel, and so on. They were really kind, good people, but according to her boss, they were horrid people and meant to be killed by her hand. I don't wanna spoil the ending, though, so I'll stop here. It's one of my favorite stories, and I always enjoyed writing it, though I really didn't like Meredith herself--she was a soulless puppet, after all, and I don't really enjoy writing that. But I loved her history teacher (the Black Horseman's companion, a pyrokinetic ninja chick) and the Black Horseman.

Another was more of a joke story than anything else, but I still like reviving it every now and then--it never had a proper title, but it was a cute little lesbian love story, centered on a magical academy, wherein a drag king with one magic eye could see into the future and the past. She made friends with a lonely girl named Luna and saw that she would eventually become a black witch and destroy everything if she continued to be so immersed in loneliness. So Will (the drag king) decided to make friends with her to prevent this prophecy from coming true. And there was another girl, Jenna Remington. Together, they had a happy little lesbian threesome and had various adventures with each other.

Another story which had lots of lesbian overtones was about fairies, named Circle of Light. It was about fairies from different kingdoms who controlled the elements--Maja the fire fairy, Aibell the earth fairy, Kala the water fairy, Aerora the half-fairy of air, and their leader, a half-fairy who controlled light. But since she was a half-fairy, nobody really liked her and treated her as an inferior. However, a shadowy woman in the mirror was kind to her and listened to her problems, and offered her friendship when no one else did. So, although she was supposed to drown out this so-called evil witch (who was a fairy who was just banished for having natural powers over darkness), she fell in love with the witch and ended up freeing her. I really liked everyone in that story--particularly two side characters, Bell (the fairy of sound) and Kayla (the fairy of love). They were twins and argued a lot. Bell always wanted to be in Kayla's photoshoots (which Bell suspected were really porno shoots), but Kayla always told her that they weren't and refused to use her love powers on Bell. They were very unimportant characters, but they were very fun to write. Aerora was, too. She was a math and business nut, and although I know nothing about math and business, I was able to successfully bullshit my way through it and make her seem interesting and eccentric.

I love writing my stories, but sometimes I wish I weren't so imaginative--I might be able to finish one that way!

2006-10-19T00:27:00.000-05:00

You know, I don't even KNOW if the Rockfish Fall Festival is a costumed affair or not, but I'm slaving away on making a nifty new costume anyway. (I'm done with the raver-devil costume.) Now I'm working on a raver dragon. It gives me an excuse to use up all that blue fabric I got several years ago for Christmas and never used. So far, I've made dragon-ear-things and I'm working on a tail. I have the other pieces already--blue-toned shoes, jeans, blue tanktop, black overshirt. And throw it all together, I've got a decent costume!

Of course, I'm looking forward to all the bizarre looks I'll be getting. It's not a Halloween party, it's a fall festival. But what-the-hell-ever. Every festival is a good reason to dress up as SOMETHING or another. Why not now?

I still have to go get some glow-sticks and a flashlight to carry with me, since it'll be dark by the time I get home. Also, I have to bum $5 off of Mom again, because they're chargin' admission, and I don't have a dime.

My brother's coming over later today. Yayz! Josh is cool. X3 I wonder if I could swindle him into letting me vacation at his house in Trade? As long as I get back before November 16. Grandma Allie has eye surgery that day, and I said I'd keep an eye on her for a few days afterward.

I'm bored with being here. Bored and lonely. There's nobody over here that wants to be friends with me, and believe me, I've TRIED. Hanging around the two stores at the corner, walking around the neighborhood, starting up conversations with strangers... and here it is, I still don't have any friends. Even my online friends don't pay much attention to me these days, and that's pretty low. I wanna go to Trade--Josh says there's "my kind of people" over there, just wandering the streets. Maybe I'd have slightly higher chances of meeting someone who could tolerate my presence if I was stationed in a hippie town for awhile. And even if I didn't, a change of scenery would be nice.

The lady from FTCC still hasn't called. I'm getting annoyed with all of this.

2006-10-17T22:00:00.000-05:00

So I read that Shrubya has flushed our lovely little habeas corpus thing down the toilet. So much for "land of the free." So much for "protecting America's freedom." So much for "civil liberties" and "Constitutional rights" and "basic human rights." So much for our rights! For someone who claims to be protecting rights and liberties, he doesn't seem to be all that big on KEEPING THEM THE WAY THEY ARE. Gay people can't marry--so much for the freedom of pursuit of happiness. He doesn't want women to control their own bodies. And now he can declare ANYBODY an enemy of the state without giving a reason why, AND he can imprison them indefinitely without a justifiable cause.

This isn't "freedom", folks. This is one step closer to a dictatorship. And don't give me that "IT'LL NEVER HAPPEN HERE!" shit, either. It HAS happened. FDR. 1940s. Japanese internment camps. Remember that? It's happening again. The frightening thing? It was a unanimous Congressional vote--100 to 0. People WANT this to happen. Jesus fucking Christ!

What we need to do, brothers and sisters, is STAND UP. We can't just lay back and accept it easily. Lying back and saying "what can we do about it?" will do nothing. Saying "support our troops! Freedom! FREEDOM!" will not protect our rights. What we have to do is stand up and let the higher-ups know that we're not GOING to lie down and accept our rights being stripped away, one by one. We have to fight for our rights. We have to see beyond our white suburban middle-class lives and see what is really important--what needs to be done, for the good of all people, American or not.

Don't just lie down and accept a fucking, folks. That's how it starts.

"Eve of Destruction" comes to mind quite suddenly...

2006-10-17T17:52:00.000-05:00

I'm nearly done with my costume. It's one of those rare things that really makes me look good--I tried it on (although it's incomplete--I still have to paint my shoes and find my red and black socks) and I look great. :D I sewed the tail onto a pair of pants and ironed-on the black devil emblem to the shirt. I have to sew the wings on to the shirt, too... I just have to find a way to keep the damn wire from poking me in the shoulders. D:

I found my paw gloves. :3 I love wearing my paws, even if it's not cold or not Halloween. They're really comfortable. So is the cat-eared hat.

The lady for scheduling the GED-thingo is supposed to call tomorrow. Yayz! I'll have my Who tickets soon enough! *rubs hands together devilishly, puts on horn headband* Ufufufufufufuu~

Mom was scary today. Stepsibling #2 got pissed at her and shouted at her to shut up, and she yelled back. This is why I'm such a Good Girl. A glare or dissatisfied look from that woman was enough to keep ME in line. God forbid she ever raise her voice! I've never been yelled at by Mom in my entire life. She used to be a drill sergeant; she is scary when she yells. So, for the past five or so hours, Stepsibling #2 has been standing in the corner for disrespecting her. (If it were me, I would have braindusted him.)

I hope the weather clears up by Friday. I don't like walking in cold mud, but I will if it means I get to see other people. It's been cold and rainy for the past few days.

2006-10-16T22:20:00.000-05:00

I just read Pete Townshend's latest diary entries. Doing such a simple thing shouldn't make my heart pound as fast as it does. It's just the stories of an old rock star about what's going on in his day. Just like anybody else's journal. But for some reason, it's like it's special when you hear certain people chattering on. It's like Pete's got some kind of magic he weaves into every word he produces, in a song or in a simple diary entry. I wouldn't doubt it. Magic in his eyes... makes him see for miles, y'know.

There's some kind of fall festival going on at Camp Rockfish this weekend. I think I'll go. I need something to do, some way to interact with people. And this seems just as well as any other. I could use a nice, long evening walk through the woods, too. I'll just have to bring a flashlight or a glowstick or something, so they can see me (it's from 4 to 9, so it'll be dark by the time I get home). I also threw together a quick costume. I've got handmade cat ears and cat paw-gloves. It's amazing what boredom will lead one to do. So I'll wear those out and call it a costume--though maybe I'll make a tail, too. I dunno. I hope I can do something interesting while I'm there, though, or meet people around my age. What's the betting it'll all be 5-year-olds, moos, and the like, just so the universe can spite me?

2006-10-14T01:47:00.000-05:00

Celebration music, please! I finished my GED subjects. In two weeks, bitches. :D

And I managed to pass my most difficult subject on the first try. HUZZAH! *does a dance of joy*

And that means I'm a-goin' to see the boys! I don't care if I have to WALK to Columbus from here--I'm getting there any way I can! *squee* I will be a happy woman for the rest of my life because of this. Yeah, yeah, GED, graduating, whoo-hoo, whatever. I just want to see Pete, Roger, and the rest! *dances around*

I can't wait. :D I've already looked up bus schedules and ticket prices for Value Center Arena... X3 *does the Happy Snoopy Dance*

...Of course, I have to take the actual GED test first...

BUT I CAN PASS IT. I know I can. :D

*resumes dancing*

I wonder if I could somehow get an autograph from them...?

2006-10-12T15:06:00.000-05:00

I phoned Dad. They're still working on the house. They're not gonna tear out my walls (damn! I wanted to repaint), but they DO have to rip out the entire ceiling of the house, since it can't be cleaned easily.

I told him that I've almost got my GED, and he asked what I'm gonna do afterward. I hadn't the heart to tell him that I'd like to take a very, very long walk down the road with very few material possessions with me. Dad rather disapproves of anything related to free-spiritdom and seems to count on me to be the Golden Child, the great hope for the next generation of WASP Republicanism. My brother was supposed to be that, too, but now he lives in the mountains in a small hippie town, playing music and working at Taco Bell.

And I'd like a life like Josh's. He lives in the middle of an area of splendid natural beauty; he expresses himself whenever he feels like it; he can go wherever he wants, anyway, anyhow, anywhere. It's true.

I want to go home with him when he comes to visit next week. But I can't--because I have to stay and keep an eye on Grandma after she has surgery in early November. Much as I love Grandma, I wish I could just go on on my own. I'm feeling like a bird in a cage, ramming against the bars and hoping for freedom, but to no avail. I want out!

In other news: Pete Townshend seems to like the name "Sally" a lot. It's mentioned in Baba O'Riley ("Sally, take my hand..."), I'm a Boy (one of the little girls is Sally Joy), Sally Simpson, and I think it's mentioned in another song, too. Maybe it's just one of those names that's nice and easy to sing about. Or something.

2006-10-10T20:10:00.000-05:00

Just a subject-and-a-half left in my GED-thingo. Huzzah! I just have a few more literature things to breeze through... then math. BLAH. I hate math. D: I'm better with things involving words and analyzing feelings and thoughts instead of trying to add letters together into a number. OMGWTFSTFU.

I'm bored.

I had a dream that the Blond Guy (one of my many companions who comes along in my subconscious; I think his name is Nate) returned. We had many fun adventures together at the beach, including feeding the poor with prizes of ramen we won at a strange arcade, dressing up in Ragnarok Online costumes to evade detection by my parents, and house-sitting some rich person's beach house... and wrecking it... yeh, not the point. It was fun. Why can't my real life be as cool as the one I have in my dreams?

2006-10-06T01:27:00.000-05:00

My hands. MY HANDS. They ACHE. But in a good way. I just made a pair of wings for my costume and my hands were still sore from yesterday. All that's left is the shirt, butchering a pair of jeans, finding my red and black socks, and painting my tennis shoes to match. *nods* Oh, and I have to trim a bit of the wire from the wings; it turned out to be about half an inch longer than it should have been, so I have to get the pliers and clip 'em later.

It's really fun so far. I think this costume will turn out nicely. Now to find a suitable party to attend, nyan!

I think I'll give the sewing a rest for the night, though. I need to clean up my room before Mum gets home later, and I should probably do another couple of hours for the GEDthingo.

2006-10-05T21:02:00.000-05:00

Damn social studies tests. D: I marked most of the right answers for a test and it said I got them wrong. I looked at the damn test and clicked the right number--the answer was 3. It changed in the test review and said I marked 2 instead, but 3 WAS indeed the right answer. WTF, test. W. T. F.

So I'm taking a break, in order to avoid hurling my computer through the window in frustration.

2006-10-05T14:58:00.000-05:00

I'm tired today. Don't know why.

I might dig around in the change vase and scratch up some money to go to the gas station. I'm bored, and I need a quick change of scenery. *nods*

I like the XM Satellite Radio channels on the TV. They're really handy for figuring out who the hell sings some of my favorite oldies. XP They never tell you on the plain old radio. I had to do careful detective work to find out who sang Last Train to Clarksville a couple of years ago. D:

2006-10-05T04:03:00.000-05:00

Random Music Facts:

-Instant Karma!, Baba O'Riley, War Pigs, Let My Love Open the Door and the live version of Gloria are my five favorite songs.

-Tea and Theatre makes me cry. Likewise, Crosby Stills and Nash's Find the Cost of Freedom. I'm not sure why the former makes me cry, but I know the latter is because I associate it with the Coda from Woodstock, which reminds me that the generation to which I should have belonged is about 40 years that-a-way, my heroes are either dead or getting really old, and things have changed for the worst.

-I can name a HELL of a lot of songs from 1960-1985 just by their opening strains. Or even the middle bars of a song. Anything from the Beatles to Black Sabbath.

-When nobody's looking, I'll turn on the Woodstock version of Sparks and dance like a fool.

-Before the Beatles and the Who, I only had a passing interest in music. Now it's my LIFE.

-Before 9/11, I listened to country only. But then it got too patriotic and religious for me, so I changed it to the oldies station and heard a Beatles song. Please Mr Postman. It changed my life completely, and I'm not kidding--I heard it and suddenly I was a tree-hugging, world-loving hippie instead of the angsty emo mcgoth teen I had been.

-Iron Man, Crazy Train, Enter Sandman, The Boys are Back in Town, and Cowboy Song are the first five songs I ever remember hearing. No, I don't even remember lullabies or childhood rhymes. But I can damn well sing along with Metallica or Thin Lizzy.

-When I was little, Papaw Tom would record tapes for me from Mom's old childhood records, with the Chipmunks or Tom Lehrer on them. I listened to Tom Lehrer more, and maybe that's why I'm warped.

-The only 90s band I truly, truly like is L7, and I've just become interested in them in the past few months.

-I think the Who are my favorite band now. They've managed to conquer even the Beatles in terms of my personal fangirlish silliness.

-I have a character in one of my stories who hitchhikes, writes poetry, and can communicate with reptiles. While his real name and identity are never revealed, there's hint enough in his codename--The Lizard King!

-Roger Daltrey's scream at the end of Won't Get Fooled Again is something that fascinates me more than it shold.

-I like listening to Keith Moon singing.

-I have a habit of grinning and silently mouthing the words to songs, whether I'm alone or with other people.

-If I could turn back time, I would save John Lennon, even if it cost my own life. Yes--I didn't know the man personally, never will, and only have access to his memories through questionable books and through old records and CDs... but I would sooner take a bullet for him than for a member of my own family. Does that make me weird?

-Ditto Keith Moon and Abbie Hoffman (though he's not really a musician...)

-I can't concentrate without music. If it's quiet, I space out completely and vanish off to another frickin' dimension. Which could explain that failed social studies test a few minutes ago--failed it with silence. Turned on Black Sabbath and got a 95 on it. What's that tell you?

-I honestly don't understand what was so great about the Sex Pistols.

-My fondest wish is to touch Roger Daltrey's hair. Or Pete Townshend's nose. Or Ringo Starr's nose. Because I'm a mildly creepy fangirl like that.

-Sometimes I'll watch a completely sucky movie just because it has musicians I love in it. Vampirella, anyone?

-Sometimes I'll watch a completely sucky movie just because it has one song I love in it.

-I write lyrics in my spare time. Can't read music, can't write it, but I have a fantasy life in which I'm a clever riot-girl/hippie hybrid who breaks down sexist walls in the mainstream music industry and gets a message across to everyone. I think I'd better stick to writing cheesy scifi stories and fantasy tales.

2006-10-04T23:34:00.000-05:00

I've been hard at work on the costume. :D So far, I've got a pair of cute red horns and a half-finished forked tail. Planning on stuffing it with doll hair (lacking actual stuffing). I'll sew up the shirt tomorrow; the shirt's the easiest part. And I'll be a few weeks early for Halloween! XP I still need to track down a party or somethin' so I can show it off--I'll be damned if I'm staying home and sitting on the couch watching TV! I think they might be having a party at Jester's. Jester's is pretty cool. Maybe they'll have some good ol' metal bands--like Nephilym or the Fifth. They're okay.

I also bought some glowsticks. I love glowsticks. Now I have to put them in a drawer or something until Halloween--or else I'll be tempted to crack 'em early and pretend to rave by myself at 4:30 in the morning when bored.

We went to Taco Bell for dinner. Saw a guy I'd seen there before--he looks kind of like my brother. He also gave us freebies. :D Bitchin'! (It was a steak quesadilla--I'm not eating it, because Leiko is a tree-hugging vegetarian--and a caramel-apple empanada.) But yeah--totally free. He didn't charge us or anything. SA-WEET.

Two mishaps while making my costume pieces today--first, I scratched my hands a bit while cutting a wire hanger up to make a pair of wings with, then I stabbed my thumb with a needle while sewing the devil tail. Owch!

Now I just have to figure out how to make the wings stand a bit... the tail, I've figured out. But I'm not sure how to do the wings. I think I'll do the same thing with the shirt and wings that I'm going to do with a pair of jeans and the tail. Maybe that'll work.

While I was at the fabric counter, I mentioned to the lady that I was going to make a raver-devil costume. She said that she was going to make a Halloween costume for her three-year-old, but didn't want it to look too sinister. Another lady standing nearby commented, "Kids are sinister enough, even without horns and a tail!" I liked her. She also suggested using old socks or scraps as stuffing for the tail and horns. Acting on her advice, I stuffed the horns with the discarded fingers for my gloves. XP

2006-10-04T14:30:00.000-05:00

I had a dream that I went adventuring with The Blond Guy from a few weeks ago (last seen when he was acting very rudely on a particular morning when my house burned down). We wound up in the book-world of Fushigi Yuugi and I was the Byakko no Miko. I kept trying to pass the job on to someone else, though, because I didn't wanna get eaten by a giant tiger after getting a buncha great wishes granted. The Blond Guy bailed me out and we managed to save the book-world. Hooray!

I always love my dreams. They're so fun, and I always have such great friends (who I simply don't have in real life, though not for lack of trying). The Blond Guy is one of my favorites. I think his name was Nate.

In other news: We're havin' Taco Bell for dinner tonight. Yayz! I love the cheese quesadillas with about three packets of Mild sauce, mixed-up pop, and the cheesy fiesta potatoes. :D

2006-10-03T23:38:00.000-05:00

You know another word I hate? "Fruition." I'm not sure why. I just don't like it. Fortunately, few people use it.

I killed another four hours on the GED this afternoon. I'm finished with the writing unit and have moved on to social studies. 100% on the pre-test! Bitchin'.

We're going to the good Wal-mart tomorrow, so we can stock up on Gram's groceries and pick up the pieces of my costume. I've gotta get crackin'! It'll be some work, but at least I'm staying busy.

Gram says we might go to JoAnn's for fabric for my stepsister (for some unknown reason). If we do, I might look at their patterned stuff. I think I might try my hand at making a dress. Most of the year, I wear long pants day after day (and as a result, my legs are fishbelly-white), because I so hate the fashions that my fellow women wear. Ass-short skirts and shorts, tight, restrictive shirts, heels that wreck one's figure... it's part of the reason why I wear men's clothing. The other part is that I'm a pretty big chick anyway--six feet tall, 180 lbs. Women's clothing is too short for me, even if it's of a normal, acceptable, modest length. Or it's too tight. Guys have cooler clothes choices, too. I don't like pastels and pink. I prefer earthy tones, like green or brown or gray. Guys have more clothes in those kinds of colors. They also have the cooler band T-shirts (no, I don't want a rhinestone-logo pink AC/DC shirt, dammit--I want a BLACK AC/DC shirt with no sparklies whatsoever!) Guy clothes are more suitable and practical for the kind of stuff I do, too.

I swear--if I applied a shoe-polish 'stache and goatee, I'd be the most convincing drag king ever. I might do that as an experiment someday. Just to see how people react.

I wonder--if you were a drag king (or an FTM) dating a drag queen (or an MTF), neither with any desire for surgery, would that be classed as gay or straight? It doesn't matter, because love is love, and we need to stop putting labels and classes and shit on it. We just need to do it. To everybody.

2006-10-03T04:02:00.000-05:00

You know a phrase I just can't stand?

"A new lease/leash on life."

I don't know why it bothers me so much, but it really does. What? Your old lease ran out? Shouldn't you be moving on, then? Elsewhere? And what of new "leash"? You had an old one? Please--you're free to enjoy whatever kink you please, but please leave me out of it. Leave the leash--both the old one and the new one--on the bedpost.

I'm about half-done with one of the units in the GED-thing. It's easy so far. I bet that'll change once I hit the last one--math. Yech! I hope it's nothing really complicated--like, beyond eighth-grade pre-algebra. That was as far as I ever sort-of comprehended in that subject. I could do area, perimeter, and volume, but I was rather terrible at adding letters together. Letters don't make numbers. Letters make sentences.

My brother's coming to visit on the 20th. Maybe I can swindle him into draggin' me back to Trade (his tiny new hometown in Tennessee--or, as he affectionately refers to it, "Bumblefuck"). It's kind of like Mirror and Image--he's moved to Hippie Central, Tennessee, and he couldn't be more miserable. He was popular and well-liked here. He had all sorts of friends and amusements. But there in Trade, he's only got Jill (his girlfriend) and I think they've got a cat, too. Meanwhile, back at home, I'm highly unpopular and the Local Eccentric for the people of Davis Bridge (or, as I affectionately refer to it, "Bumblefuck"). Josh says that I would love it there in Trade--hippies and stoners and all-natural folks wandering around at all hours of the day listening to Bob Marley and trading veggie recipes in the streets. I'd do a lot to trade places with him this time!

I might ask him if he'll give me a ride up to Ohio come December. I need SOMEONE to take me, at any rate. Even if I have to stand on the side of the road in the cold mountain winter with my thumb out, I'm going to see those crinkly old men singin' their hearts out in Columbus!

2006-09-30T22:17:00.000-05:00

I had a fairly busy afternoon. Mom and Jared are going on a cruise tomorrow, so Grandma came over to keep an eye on things. We had dinner outside, which was great, except for the two yellowjackets who kept stalking me, then vanished as soon as I left to sit on the steps of the back porch. D:

Then we decided to have some smores cooked over the fire pit in the backyard, when we discovered we didn't have marshmallows. Or graham crackers. Or chocolate. So I bummed $10 off of Mom and bought some down at the Dollar General, and a bag of peachie-gummy-rings for me (though I shared with Gram, because she likes them).

Came home, did smores. I always like being around campfires. Fire is fab to look at, except when it's destroying your personal property and residence of eleven years. I had two smores, but everybody else polished off an entire bag of marshmallows and all three of the king-size Hershey Bars (they didn't have any of those neat bulk pack things, so I just bought a few at the gas station).

Things I saw while I was out:

A woman named Twinkle. She was pretty old--but still very, very pretty--and she was working the register at the Dollar General. She asked if I was gonna make smores, and I nodded. XD

A carful of total strangers honking at me urgently and waving like lunatics. It was very flattering, but still kind of odd. XP

I just blew through two units of my GED program in about an hour. Jesus! And I got an 89 on the test for it. (I got kind of tripped up on dangling modifiers.)

2006-09-30T00:25:00.000-05:00

Two days into the GED, and I'm almost completely finished with one of the four subjects. Bitchin'! At this rate, I'll be done in time to hitch a ride to Columbus to lurk around the Value Center Arena.

In other news, I'm writing about a space cowboy. I'm not sure where the idea came from, but it's fun to write about him and his screwy companions. One of them is the requisite Simple Earth Girl who just happens to have great psychic powers. Another is a little flying robot. The other is a star-roving hippie alien who has a great cosmic VW-bus. This is one of those rare occasions where I really and truly like all of the characters. The story itself isn't particularly good--I've never been great at doing sci-fi. SKIENCE! Fantasy and superheroes are more my thing. It's been fun so far, though. Alien robots invade Earth (Sylvie, the Earth Girl, calls them "Iron Men", after the song by Black Sabbath) and the space cowboy asks for Sylvie's help getting to a secluded area in the park from which to attack the mothership. While he's busy fucking around with the computer, she takes a baseball bat, beats the control center senseless, and the problem is solved through property destruction.

It's full of crack and more FICTION than science, but it's still great fun to write.

2006-09-29T03:08:00.000-05:00

Well, there's one hour killed for the GED. I took the writing pretest, and it was pretty easy. I had to write an essay--"If you could be any character from any TV show, book, or movie, who would it be?" I picked the Doctor. I was going to pick Ringo Starr from Yellow Submarine, but I think I would get an essay stamped "WTF?" in return. So I typed up some babble about wanting a life of interstellar adventure and intrigue and a time-traveling police-box. I wasn't really concentrating, but I think it came out more coherent than the average entry in this very blog.

My teeth are sore. Damn rubber bands!

I'm writing a story about a space cowboy for no particular reason. Cowboys rock, and space rocks, so what the hell? There's no real plot involved, except alien robots are invading Earth, and the space cowboy stops them with electrically-charged bullets. It's a short little piece of WTFery, but I'm highly amused by it for some reason.

2006-09-28T16:47:00.000-05:00

So we went to FTCC. Again. The lady there was really nice this time, and wouldn't let me leave until I could repeat the steps to getting into the GED-online thing to her. XD I liked her. I think her name was Mrs Rickler. Anyway, she says if I am as determined as I seem, then I could have it over and done with in a few WEEKS. BITCHIN'! *does a dance*

Plenty of time to hook up a ride to Columbus to see the Who. >:D Bahahahaha! (Mom said she'd spring for a trip anywhere in the world that I wanted. I choose to go to a place I've been several times before just to see some sexy old men singing and playing their hearts out. ♥) I wonder if there are trains up to Ohio, or whether we could hook up a ride with someone? Internet-rideboard, here we come! (Much as I'm obsessed with hitching, I'm not roughing it out in the Ohio winter. Too damn cold, and I don't have a tent, and I only know my way there by sights.)

Then we went up to the house and tried to move my car. It wouldn't start and wouldn't even unlock with the remote clicker thingy. So Dad heaved a heavy sigh and took my car keys away so he could get it fixed.I got my last bag of stuff. Most of it is, in fact, Josh's old stuff--toys, shirts, books--but Dad doesn't just wanna toss it, so he decided that it's mine now. XD I'm now the proud owner of a stuffed huggin' monkey and a stiff stuffed red bulldog.

2006-09-27T15:18:00.000-05:00

I had a dream that I was in a magical world full of witches, fairies, and demons. I was a witch with power over luck. But I wasn't very good at controlling it, so I accidentally flung hexes and curses when I got overemotional. Nobody wanted to be my friend, except this creepy skeleton guy (imagine: Ghost Rider sans motorcycle). He taught me how to properly use my s00per l337 magical powers and, as a treat, took me to a music awards show. A lot of Disney Channel people were there, along with the Who, for some very bizarre reason. I managed to beg an autograph out of everyone in the group. They allowed me to hang around on the condition I didn't act too fangirly and stupid. And miraculously, I managed to do that. XP Then the Skeleton Man dragged me away on important magical business (I remember shouting "Help! Help! I'm being repressed!" as I was). And we lived happily ever after. OMG YAY.

I have weird dreams, but I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world.

A random thought: Jesse McCartney's a decent actor, but a terrible singer. He should stick to acting and quit music. Then again, I'm biased--there's only room for one McCartney boy in my life, and his name is Paul. XP

2006-09-26T18:46:00.000-05:00

One day, I will find the person who invented rubber bands for braces, and I will beat him with a sack of sweet Valencia oranges. D:

I'm only allowed to take them off when I'm eating, and it's a royal bitch to take them off and put them back on. I literally just had to rip one off of my back bracket so I could have my ramen noodles. One of them I pried off easily enough with the water-pik thingy and the other I had to tear off because in five minutes of trying to pluck it out neatly with the water-pik thingy, I couldn't get it LOOSE. I'm fortunate I didn't yank the bracket off, too.

So I have to have someone else assist me in getting them back in, because it's hard for me to perform my own dental work with my own hands, y'know? Which is a real bitch, because I don't like being an inconvenience to anyone, and nobody wants to stick their hands in my mouth. D:

In other news: I'm obsessed with this song. :D (Let My Love Open the Door - Pete Townshend) It's just such an awesome song.

And one of my friends on the KHFanficrants community on LJ recommended ways on getting up to Ohio and attempting to meet the band. BAHAHAHAHAHA. I'll have to bring a prop or two--I don't think an 18-year-old in a Dr Pepper T-shirt would really be considered a serious journalist, so that lie wouldn't work without some work. Even if I don't get tickets, I would like to lurk around outside of the arena just to be there in the same airspace as the boys. I have such a silly fangirl crush on them. I often wonder why I don't have any feeling towards band members that are more in my age range?

There are a few different reasons, I think--the era in which they began, the music that Pete writes (it's magic in lyrical form, and nothing less), the way Roger sings, the way they play their instruments. It's something that no other band has, and certainly no band that's popular with my age group has--bunch of whining pretty-boys with muddy guitars. Bah! Give me Mr Townshend with his roaring guitar, windmills, and stage destruction any day.

Or maybe I'm just a pervy old-man fancier. Seriously--I can't name one under-30 person that I have a Silly Fangirl Crush on. Johnny Depp, Pete Townshend, Roger Daltrey, Ringo Starr, Joni Mitchell, Gloria Steinem... I'm crazy, I suppose. But I like to think I'm crazy in a very friendly, harmless way.

2006-09-24T16:57:00.000-05:00

I took a walk today. Not much interesting happened, except a person in a van with heavily-tinted windows stopped to offer me a ride. Since I couldn't even see inside the van, I declined--one of the first rules of hitchin' a ride is "Don't accept a ride you can't see in or out of." XP Among other rules. I found it highly unsettling that he wouldn't even roll down the window to ask; I had to kind of make out the vague humanoid outline in the driver's seat to figure out why he'd stopped.

And besides, I was waiting to cross the street to get into my own neighborhood. A ride would've been very unproductive.

I think I might ask to borrow Mom's old Army tarp and take a camping trip sometime this week(end?) I need a vacation, all to myself, and it could be considered practice for The Trip. The Trip has been postponed until Dad and Karen get over the fire. I'm fine--I'm completely over it--but I don't think they would understand my need to go on a journey of nonmaterialistic self-discovery and a religious experience, too. I don't think they'd cope with it very well, so I've put it off for a short while. But I still want to go, more than anything else. There are more reasons each and every day why I want to, even if nobody else believes in them or agrees with them.

2006-09-23T20:29:00.000-05:00

I think I'm becoming paranoid about fire. Or something. I can smell smoke all over this house, but we've washed most of my things so the smoke smell is out of them. It smells like fresh smoke, but nothing is on fire--I keep walking around looking. I may just be going crazy. D:

Also, the wireless connection is screwing up, so I'm back on AO-hell for now. Bah!

And I found some yogurt-covered peanuts in a bowl. MINE. *munches* ♥

2006-09-22T23:40:00.000-05:00

Mom said we might get a pet that's just for my company. But there are a bunch of restrictions. No cats (Mom's allergic), guinea pigs (ditto), no rats or mice (Mom's afraid of them), no reptiles (ditto), so on. That doesn't leave me with a lot of choices.

Much as I like animals, I'd kind of like to have human companionship. I've never really had a lot of close friendships. I had a couple--like Kristen from third to sixth grade--but that's about it. I just can't seem to find a good friend and I can't seem to keep them, no matter how hard I try. I try to be the kindhearted, cheerful girl, I try to be the sarcastic, snappy girl, I try to be myself, and everything I do ends up failing, and everyone ends up running off with someone else--either a boyfriend, a girlfriend, or merely another group of people who don't like me. I think the last really close friend I had was Taylor. I haven't been in his physical presence since Christmas.

I go out into the world every day, holding out hope that I might find someone with a life philosophy and dreams similar to mine, and every day I become discouraged because the rest of the world seems to have given up on their dreams of hope and peace and settled for mediocrity and even outright terribleness.

I'd kind of like a sugar glider, but I'm not sure how well Sarge (Mom's bulldog) would take to a gliding rodent sharing the house with him. And I'd kind of like a creature that's big enough to come with me on a walk, but I know Mom ain't gonna let me get another dog.

So that leaves me with--what?

Maybe I'll look up chinchillas. Or bunnies.

2006-09-22T18:41:00.000-05:00

We're going to the fabric store this weekend. I designed a cute costume that I'd really like to make for Halloween. Never mind that I'm not going anywhere much! I'm never invited to parties (a side effect of having no friends, I'm sure), I don't feel like trick-or-treating anymore because White Middle America has fucked it up, and I don't really wanna pass out candy, either. I wonder if there's a nightclub or somethin' open around here. I DO wanna show off my costume, dammit! XP

It's a raver version of a typical Halloween witch--orange shirt, short black cape, floppy witch hat, chem-lights on strings, jeans, tennis shoes.

If I can't find a good color of orange fabric (most of what I find is eye-bleeding day-glo orange), I'll be the raver-demon-girl that I designed as an alternate. It's cute, and I'd get to play with makeup (Halloween is the only day where I actually enjoy makeup, perhaps because during the rest of the year, if you wear Dracula makeup, you're frowned upon as a loony).

Either way, I've got some busy sewin' to do!

2006-09-22T01:54:00.000-05:00

I haven't got a bloody dime to my name.

I live with my mother.

I live way out in the middle of nowhere, with the only contact with other people my age being visits to Wal-mart and through the Internet.

I don't have many friends.

I'm a high-school dropout.

People constantly tell me that I'll never amount to anything.

But I'm happy.

I'm happy. I enjoy what I do with my life--namely, thinking. Feeling. Observing. My mission in life is not to earn money and become trapped in an endless race on a rat wheel, searching endlessly for fulfillment through gas-guzzling automobiles and through go-nowhere relationships set up for the sake of mere companionship rather than any real, deep affection and passion.

I'm perfectly content to sit on the roadside, perched on someone's fence, watching traffic go past. I'm perfectly content to sit outside on a blanket, making jewelry, writing stories. I'm perfectly content to daydream my life away. I'm perfectly content with seeking meaning and fulfillment through my dreams, thoughts, and relationships with the only people I really NEED--me, God, and God's many various manifestations throughout the world.

It's when I'm doing what's normal that I become a nervous fucking wreck, that I become depressed and discouraged. It's when I try to drive somewhere--I become inattentive, panicked, and start sobbing uncontrollably into the steering wheel. It's when I hear "get a job!" or "grow up!" from my peers--I withdraw into my shell and lash out at whoever told me to do so. It's when I imagine the prospect of getting a white-collar job and living in a house by myself and paying bills--I panic and feel angry and bored, even though this has never happened.

I'm dissatisfied with the ambitions that everybody else has built up for me. I'm dissatisfied with the lonely time in which I live--I'm unhappy that everybody is so... isolated. Everybody thinks they can make it on their own, that they're okay by themselves, and they shut themselves off from their neighbors. Nobody helps. People walk through their lives on autopilot, only jarring into semi-wakefulness when they see something that's not blended into the background blur of their lives.

I don't want the life everybody else wants for me. I don't want to make the climb, like "Jerry" says in the Woodstock movie. There's nothing to climb for. He was right. I can sit down on the roadside, and all I want and need is there. I've got higher aspirations, higher goals, more important things to do than earn money and eke out the same existence my father and mother and the rest of my family do.

And that's what I want to do. My aspirations are strange, I'll admit--I want to do the kind of work Meher Baba did, the kind of work Jesus did, the kind of work that the great peacebringers of years past have done. I want a very simple, roving life. I don't want a mere existence; I don't want to merely occupy space miserably, the way Dad and Karen do. I want to LIVE! I want to move, I want to live out my dreams, I want to take charge, and I want to awaken others from their stupor.

Nobody else wants me to do it. That discourages me sometimes. My Internet-friends tell me that it's a stupid idea (though they're slightly more civil in wording it, the intent and tone is the same). My family demands that I go for a job that will pay everything my brother isn't earning; they want me to earn gobs of money and pay for an easy cruise through the rest of their lives. And this discourages me. Nobody believes in my dreams except for me. Nobody agrees with me. Nobody even disagrees with me in a respectful tone.

But I'll find some way to make them see that this is my life and I'm in control. And that there's more to their lives than miserable existence.

Because that's what I'm going to do with my life. Whether anybody else likes it or not.

2006-09-21T01:35:00.000-05:00

Dear Flirter Person:

No, saying that your mother would like me doesn't really impress me. It makes me point and laugh. You're 20something years old, I've put a lot of clever snarks, jokes, and semi-deep thought into my profile, and the best you can think of to say to me is "My mother would like you!"?

Please try again.

Proving Just How Picky Some Chicks Can Be,

Leiko

P.S. Would it hurt you guys to put up some information about your, y'know, personality? I'm not interested in reading a mere physical description of yourself and a vague "I might want kids someday and I like drinking" blurb. I'm interested in knowing something MORE so that I could deem whether you're worth further exploration or not. Of course, everyone is worthy of my love and friendship, but I still would like to find a friend and a confidant, and I'm so desperate I've finally just popped online to look. XP

P.P.S. Fuck you, place4friends. There's no way to contact these people that I DO find interesting, short of buying a big paid account. >:( And I'm simply too poah to afford that.

2006-09-20T17:30:00.000-05:00

So much for the damn GED.

Okay, so, first, we went to pre-test. You know, see where I am. That's all well and good. Nice way to kill three hours on a Monday night.

Tuesday, we go up to the school again to see what I made. Turns out that I did just about the best you can do on the test, and if I'd taken the real thing on Monday, I would've passed. 95th percentile. Fab!

So Gram and I left with our hearts soaring on the dancing wind.

And we had to go back today to get further instructions. Turns out, the very inhospitable lady I was scheduled to see decided to put me in classes I didn't need, at hours I couldn't go. I think she used to work for the DMV. And I'm expected to show up tomorrow, several weeks late to start classes! What the HELL.

But Mom and Gram and I aren't having that--nobody can drive me there at 8 AM, nobody can pick me up at 2:30, and moreover, giving me new classes when I've already learned and obviously understood it all seems very counterproductive--so we're either going to pay a visit to Fort Bragg with the rumored place that will give you the real test as soon as you walk in the door, or we're going to that old Keystone homeschool thingo that I WAS doing (I only needed three more courses, two now since I passed another English and another social studies).

So freakin' much for the community college.

On the bright side, I saw this guy with really Pete Townshend-blue eyes and a shirt with the Knights of Ni on it. :DDDDDD He liked my Rolling Stones shirt, too. Bitchin'! I'll never see him again, of course, but he was nice for the short period that I got to hang around him.

2006-09-16T20:39:00.000-05:00

I think that if I ever date, one day, I'm going to date a black Muslim man (or woman!), just to spite my dad. Have the deepest biological love for him, but I don't like him at all. He's a bit of a bigot, in a semi-harmless Archie Bunker kind of way. He refuses to listen to Cat Stevens and even calls poor old Cat a terrorist, simply because he's a Muslim. There is nothing wrong with Muslims. Out of all the millions and millions of Muslims, there's only a handful of extremists who bring up violence. The same could be said for Christians, Hindus, Jews, and so on as well. There's always a bunch of nutcases in any group who spoil the image of the saner majority. I once knew a Muslim girl who was excellent at math, and she helped me get a B on a project (only B I've ever gotten in math, ever) that I was having trouble with. She was very sweet and intelligent, and I liked her.

He's also not that big on gay folks, except Rob Halford from Judas Priest. He labors under that ancient, idiotic delusion that all gay folks are raving AIDS-carrying lunatics.

It is out of his hatred for the world that I try to love everybody I meet. I don't think we should hate anybody or discriminate based solely on skin color, belief system, sexual preference, or whatever. Jesus repeatedly said that one who loves his neighbor loves God. Meher Baba said similar things. Buddha said it, too. And I'm sure Mohammed and all the other prophets of other religions had something to say about it, too.

At the core of every religion is the unconditional love of God and the unconditional love for and of your fellow humans. I only wish people would realize this! That's our common, universal note--love. Compassion. Kindheartedness. Friendship. We shouldn't unite in hatred against others; we should unite in love with everybody we can, and we should teach others this same thing.

And I wonder what happens to the people like Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell, who hate so hard on their neighbors and still pretend to love God! God loves them, too, but I'm sure God's quite sad that everybody has twisted the message of unconditional love into one of conditional, connotated love--hatred, that masquerades as love, is truly the deepest, most vile kind of hatred that exists.

It's my mission in life, not to make lots of money and live in a nice house with a husband, two kids, and an S-moo-V, but to awaken people. People go through life on autopilot these days, completely oblivious to their loving hearts and the need for love throughout the world. I want to shake them out of it any way I can. I want to help them to see, to learn, to do.

2006-09-15T16:31:00.000-05:00

I entered a contest for third/fourth/fifth row tickets at a Who concert. I've probably got a snowball's chance in hell of winning, or perhaps a better chance of being mysteriously warped back to Woodstock, but I figure it's worth a shot, isn't it?

Something to be said for persistence, I guess.

I watched the Who on David Letterman last night. I don't like David Letterman at all and I felt like hurling the remote through the screen during the show. He gave about 10 minutes (maybe less) to Whatshisname and Anne Heche, but there was only two minutes of singing for the Who--not even an extra 30 seconds to pimp their album or anything. What the hell? No time to spare for rock n' roll LEGENDS? No fair!

But the song they sang was lovely, and they looked awesome. ♥ Much love for them, no matter how short a time they had.

I'm going to Dad's tomorrow. Dad and Karen have temporarily moved in next door--Dad couldn't stand living in the hotel, so he asked Brian if he could borrow the house for awhile. They're gonna start rewiring the house next week. I wonder if they're going to repaint? If they do repaint, I'd like to do my room in a green, yellow, and brown color scheme. I love earth tones. The steel-gray-and-lighthouses that my brother had before just wasn't doing it for me. I don't plan on spending much time there after I get my GED--after that, I'm frickin' OUTTA HERE, exploring!--but it would be nice to crash there occasionally on return trips.

Monday is the day I go back to see if I have to take any review classes before the test itself. And after the test, I get the damn diploma. Once I get it, I'm not stickin' around. I might go visit my brother in the mountains (or, at least, use that as an ulterior motive for hiking around the mountains until this time next year). Or maybe I'll go to my beloved, sweet Myrtle Beach and spend some time on the ocean. Or maybe I'll bounce all around the country by backroad and see everything I can! I'll just have to ask Mum to buy me a small tent, some wintry clothes, and a good pair of hiking boots. (I love my sandals, but I don't think hiking through the winter would really call for sandals.)

So many plans to make, such a short life!

2006-09-12T18:24:00.000-05:00

I honestly do not know what possessed me to go to Chuckie Cheese's with everyone else. I managed to tune out all of the screaming children around me and got the most tickets I've ever gotten from the games before (176--I'm so lame). It got me a small can of Play-Doh, and it made me happy. I love Play-Doh. :3

Called Dad. It turns out he and Karen have moved in next door--in Brian's house. I could move back with them if I felt like, but I think I'd only add to the stress level, so I'll stay out of the way over here, no matter how much I dislike the people here (except Mom and Gram). OH OH and Dad said he'd give the Columbus show a shot. BITCHIN'. *does a jig* That'd be all the Christmas present I need for the next ten years. :D

He said they threw most of our stuff away. I wonder what they ended up taking off to clean? I wonder if my computer's okay, with my fantastic LJ icon collection, fabulous Beatle-photo collection, and buddingly-fabulous Who-photo collection? I miss paging through all of those icons. And I miss lying down in my own bed to watch TV. Everything's out of the room now except for a mattress, two empty guitar cases, and a bunch of plastic hangers. I hope our records are okay, too. I bet I'd have a bitch of a time trying to find all of those records Dad had in those crates.

I know it's only stuff, and I'm actually kinda glad most of it is gone. Most of it, I wanted to get rid of. But a few things--the records, the player, the videotapes Dad spent hours recording--have so much sentimental value, and I miss them very much.

2006-09-12T14:36:00.000-05:00

*passes out in a heap*

Busy day today.

First, I had a triple-chocolate muffin that Mom baked herself. :D That was good--it got me energized, and I needed it after only three hours of sleep. Then we headed to Grandma's and picked her up, then off we went to FTCC. I finished the 35-minute test in 15 minutes and the only answer I wasn't 100% certain of was "What is 3.5% of 200?" Mom said I got it right, though. Hooray for lucky guessing! (Seriously. I just checked the first answer the pencil landed next to and Mom said I got it right. Bitchin'!) As I walked out, some guy complimented by shirt. :D (The Dark Side of the Moon shirt that's lately become one of my favorites.)

They said that I could come over next week to see my test results, and that I probably wouldn't have to take any preparation classes for the Big GED Test Thing.

While we were over at FTCC, we wandered around the rose garden. Even though it's a bit late in the season for roses, there were still a lot of really pretty ones on the bushes.

We ate at Olive Garden for lunch. I had some alfredo stuff and filled up on breadsticks, too (GOD, I LOVE THEIR BREAD... what?) The waitress reminded me of Romana from Doctor Who. O___o I even half-heartedly looked around for a curly-haired man with a long scarf waiting in the wings of the restaurant. I'm such a goddamn nerd sometimes, I swear. Also at the Olive Garden: A Bug covered with Grateful Dead and Beatles stickers. :D

Then, off to Dad's house. The cleaner-people were there, and they've taken away most of the stuff in the house, either to be cleaned or disposed of. We picked up my clothes, most of my posters (except the Abbey Road one--it was too high for me to reach without standing on a chair), and some toys I forgot Josh still had! Seriously. I thought he'd gotten rid of Kirby the Koala long ago. But he still has 'em all. :DDDDD Huzzah! I loved Josh's stuffed animals just as much as I loved my own. ♥ Kirby's in the wash right now. I remember we went to Florida one time, and Josh accidentally left Kirby in Georgia at a hotel. He made us backtrack to get Kirby back. XD It was funny.

I'm immensely tired now. Mom couldn't help me (her asthma acted up while she was inside for a moment), and Gram is Gram--she's old, not as strong as she used to be. But she did help me a little bit. She picked up some old, kinda sooty but still very fluffy pillows and orphaned towels that we decided to give to the no-kill animal shelter (they're always looking for donations of supplies). We managed to get all but one bag inside, and I left a note that told the cleaners I was planning on keeping that bag, we just didn't have room in Gram's Camry. The rest, though, they could toss.

What a workout!

*passes out*

2006-09-12T00:51:00.000-05:00

*deep breath*

SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

*pants heavily*

There's a Who concert in Columbus, Ohio! YAAAAAAAAAY!

Now, this is a bit further than even New Jersey. So why am I so excited?

Because that's where my uncle lives, and that would mean free accomodation. I bet Dad could swindle him into it somehow. Johnny's a pretty big Who fan, too. I bet he'd drive me there, or at least drop me off in Columbus a few hours before the show so I could find my way there.

My heart is just SOARING now. I've got a fighting chance at seeing them now! D'ya think it's a sign?

I can barely type coherently, I'm so excited. Yes, it's December 11--months from now--but still! I can't wait! I'll have to tell Dad tomorrow when I see him (we're dropping by the house, and he might be cleanin').

SQUEEEEEEEEE!

*dances in circles and squees self hoarse*

2006-09-11T13:47:00.000-05:00

Squee! It says the Who are gonna be on Letterman on Thursday. *jig* I don't like Letterman, but it's the WHO.

It looks as though that's the closest I'm gonna get to seein' 'em live this year. *sulks* Unless I finish that stupid GED thing within the next few weeks. (I only needed one course--English IV.) Mom said she'd pay for a trip anywhere I felt like when I graduated. And my current hope is to get a ticket to see the boys. And if I can't see Pete, Rog, 'n the rest, I'll go to Myrtle Beach and watch the ocean for awhile, and that'll make me feel better for missing it.

My new song obsession is Love Reign O'er Me. Holy crap, what a fantastic song. I've never even SEEN Quadrophenia, and it still makes me feel like riding a Vespa in the pissing rain along to the beach, angry at the world... he's a magic man, that Pete Townshend, and his magic is exercised through song.

2006-09-10T20:20:00.000-05:00

*shrieks* Who. David Letterman. Thursday.

I'm going to the hotel just for that. (Mom doesn't get NBC, CBS, etc., on the satellite. I don't know why.)

Because you all know how miffed I am that I probably won't get to go, and that'll probably be the closest I get to seeing them. Unless I put my headphones on and turn up Live at Woodstock really loud. *sulks*

Mom and I are going to FTCC either tomorrow or Tuesday to see about that GED thingo. Jesus. Finally. She said she'd give me rides if I needed them (she knows how much driving freaks me out and she doesn't force me into doing it). Bitchin'.

Now all that's left is to figure out where I'd like my ticket for when I get through with it. (Mom said she'd pay for a trip anywhere I felt like going when I graduated.) I only really needed to finish one credit (English IV) to graduate. I hope I get done with the stupid program really quickly. At least, before the Who leave the US. Maybe then I'll have a slight chance of seeing them, or at the very least, being in the same city and lurking around behind the arena/auditorium/whatever.

And if I don't get around to that--I kind of doubt I will, because the universe seems to be against me when it comes to that kinda thing--I'll just go to the Smokies. Maybe Gatlinburg. I love Gatlinburg, although I've only been there once for a few days (Mom had her wedding there), and ever since, I've always wanted to go back and stay longer.

I dunno, though. I guess we'll see if I test out of that GED thing (Grandma called them up awhile ago and they said they had a 25-minute test to see if you actually needed to go through all of the coursework or not). She said it was pretty basic stuff, too--like simple math, grammar, and basic science. I'm pretty sure I'd be able to get out of it--long as they don't put any calculus or shit on that test.

2006-09-08T04:00:00.000-05:00

So who needs sleep, anyway?

I've been coming up with more silly spells and effects for that goofy little story I'm writing as a favor for myself.

My favorite so far is Keith Moon Psycho Destruction Fireworks. Which is... just what it sounds like, really. Keith Moon was just thrown in there because Luna Nesmith is a musically-themed magic-user; all of the spells somehow derive from songs. Like "Black Sabbath" produces an area of darkness, "Hier Kommt die Sonne" illuminates it, "Little Wing" gives her wings, "Two of Us" creates a duplicate, and so on. Basically, I'm not sharing the story with anybody else. It's just my own big stupid joke. XD Nobody else'd get it, I suppose.

I notice, strangely, that whenever I see the Who or the Beatles or Woodstock or anything associated with that era on the TV, my heart pounds like it's never done before. I hear that's what love is like; I wonder. It pounds, and my face gets red, and my happiness just soars like never before. It's the most tragically-doomed of all love stories--in love with an era, longing to return to a past that I was never part of. Makes Romeo and Juliet look like Dick and Jane.

In other news, I'm tired of using this laptop. D: The little mousey-pad-thingy is making my finger hot. Which sounds dirty, in an odd kinda way.

One of the unsung great guitarists, I think, is Criss Oliva from Savatage. Hell, Savatage itself is a great unsung band. Great guitar, great songs, great singer. They need more attention. X3

2006-09-07T21:25:00.000-05:00

It's rather strange, I've noticed--the more time I spend around this happy, cheerful, talks-to-each-other-on-a-regular-basis Cleaver-style family, the bitchier and more sarcastic I become.
But the longer I spend around Dad and Karen, Smartasses Supreme, the cheerier and more hopeful I become.

I wonder what the hell that's all about. I wonder if there's any way I can somehow mix it together and be, all at once, a hopeful sarcastic cheerful bitch. I wonder if that made any sense at all. Anyway, you'd think it'd be the opposite--you'd think I'd be happy around the happy ones and pissy around the pissy ones. I don't know why this is.

I think part of my problem is that, after a year of only visiting here sporadically, I've become used to bitchery and sarcasm, and it gives me a chance to build up my love and hope for the world. It lets me know that every time I manage to make Dad smile or grin or laugh, I can do the same for other such people in the world. But here, at Mom's, everybody's happy all the time. There's no challenge at all. I enjoy being challenged by Dad's and Karen's hardened hearts. It's practice, if you will. Sure, the conversations and discussions aren't the most philosophical and intellectual, but we still talk about fairly deep matters over there.

Nothing here is really that intellectually stimulating. Everything must be kept on the level for ten-year-olds. No matter how hard I try to strike up interesting conversations and discussions about philosophy, spirituality, and things of that sort, I'm always met with "BUT WHAT ABOUT THE CHILDREN?" Perhaps I'm only good at melting the hardened hearts of bitchy adults who think in terms of adulthood, instead of everything centering around children. This could be a whole new challenge, I suppose, but every time I try, I end up wanting to tear my hair out. Either they're too dim to get a subtle segue into philosophical discussion or they're too occupied with the CHYULDRUN.

And since there's not much challenging me here, I think that's why I'm so bored these days. Nothing challenges me, and because nothing does, I get bored and spend twelve hours per day sleeping on the couch in front of the television.

God bless Mom for being such a nice person, really, but she isn't that great for stimulating conversation these days. Maybe I'll hit her up for a ride to that damn GED thing, get it, and go on that trip (she said she'd spring for a ticket anywhere I wanted as soon as I graduated).
I think I'll phone up Dad tomorrow and ask if I can come over to the hotel for awhile.
As weird as it sounds, I kind of miss his bitching and I miss Karen's nonstop stupid prattling about office gossip. It's weird. Before the fire, I couldn't wait to just run up to Eckerd so I wouldn't have to deal with it.

Grass is always greener, I suppose.

It's also too LOUD here. Everybody's always talking. About nothing that interests me. Perhaps I feel strangely left out; I feel more intelligent than the CHYULDRUN, and I simply refuse to dumb myself down in order to speak to them. I'm not so desperate for conversation that I want to hear them talk about what they did at school or "UM UM UM UM UM".

Sometimes I suspect that I might be crazy, and babbling entries like this only further my suspicion.

2006-09-07T19:56:00.000-05:00

I'm watching the UK Music Hall of Fame thing again and I've just about slayed myself squeeing. I've been watching it for about three minutes. It's on Jimi Hendrix now. I love Jimi very much, and Slash amuses me. (I'm not the world's hugest GNR fan--I like GNR--but he amuses me to no end.) This came out last year and I was kinda whacked out on Percocet when I first watched it. Now I'm watching it with a more-or-less clear head, and I'm just stunned. Wow. The Hendrix clips are just blowing me away. I wish he were still here.

The Who clip--I just saw a few seconds of an "upcoming!" bit for the rest of the show--just about made me shriek. I'm a crazy fangirl, no kidding... *sweatdrop*

And there was a short commercial with pictures of George Harrison and "All Things Must Pass". It almost made me cry.

I thought of a bunch of cool effects that could be used on the staff from my dream, but unfortunately, I can't come up with a cool story for it without it sounding like a carbon copy of the Runaways series. Bah! But still, it'd be a pretty bitchin' thing to have magic spells patterned after fantastic songs. I've got a very long list of effects I've come up with from most of the bands I love. Black Sabbath would cloud an area with darkness; Little Wing would give one the ability to fly; Two of Us would duplicate you; Across the Universe would teleport you; Hier Kommt die Sonne would illuminate a room; Won't Get Fooled Again would dispel glamours and disguises; Iron Man would give you armor; Sweet Leaf would grow you some vines; Fight the Power would give you superstrength; A Quick One would give you superspeed; Enter Sandman would put people to sleep... and so on. There are about two more pages' worth of that.

Good God, I've got too much time on my hands. I should take longer hikes.

2006-09-07T17:46:00.000-05:00

Awhile ago, I read a batshit essay about how superheroines in comic books should bear children. Only recently, after my rekindled obsession with superheroes and comic books, have I been able to babble out a semicoherent response.

Can you think of how fucked a superhero's kid would be? There are lots of canon examples of superheroines who have kids that wind up pretty screwy. How many kids do Cyclops and Jean Grey have now, and how many of them are evil in an alternate timeline? Being superheroes, I don't think they'd have a lot of time to devote to their kids. Because, quite often, the most complex matters are reduced to black and white terms in comic books, the superheroes in question would have two choices: either let evil take over the world or keep an eye on the kid. Yeah, they could hire a nanny or something, but can you imagine the screening process they'd have to go through?

And never mind the superheroes never having time to spend with their kids--could you imagine how often the kid would get brainwashed, kidnapped, serve as a human shield, or become cannon fodder? How many times has that happened to Jimmy Olsen (Superman's adopted son at one point)?

Let's say that the kid had superpowers of its own. Okay. He can defend himself from supervillains. How long until the book focuses solely on the superchild instead of his parents? It would be kind of understandable if the heroes retired--didn't the Green Arrow do that at one point and let his son take over?--but in the case of, say, Superman, he isn't retiring anytime soon. Superman will not retire until the literal, physical planet has crumbled to dust.

Sometimes the superhero-with-kids thing can work, but most of the time, the kid is fucked if he's born to superheroes. Either they're not getting much attention, or they're kidnapped every other week.

2006-09-05T16:50:00.000-05:00

I had a dream that an insane arsonist kept trying to kill me, and the police wouldn't listen. Three random bystanders helped me out, though. One was a pudgy guy with brown hair and John Lennon glasses; one was a cute goth girl named Mona; one was a skinny Middle Eastern guy with red eyes and superpowers. Bitchin'.

I also remember that we snuck into The Covenant while it was playing and sought advice from a wizard on how to beat the arsonist, who seemed hellbent on frying me alive one way or another. Perhaps related to fire paranoia? Who knows?

Anyway, I liked the three bodyguards. They were nice. ♥

Also: I'm addicted to solitaire. @_@

2006-09-02T15:49:00.000-05:00

Got back from Grandma's just now. :3

Thursday--we went to the HealthPlex and worked out.

Friday--FUN :D We got up and did nothing until about 1, whereupon we went to the Airborne and Special Operations Museum. Gram volunteers there Friday afternoons. I wandered around downtown for a couple of hours. It was kinda nice. This cute Latino boy kept hanging around our table while we were at dinner and teased the other waiters for our amusement. I felt flattered; it was an ego boost I needed, 'cos I've been feeling down the past week or so. There was also this really cute, fuzzy kitty outside an antique shop. I sat down on the sidewalk and played with her (I have a long yarn braid dangling from my backpack and she liked it). It was a gorgeous cat; silvery, with calico-ish markings.The rest of Friday was spent watching Doctor Who and Highlander. XP

Today--Busy busy busy. Got up early for my kayaking class, which was fun--we got the instructional part done in about half an hour, then paddled around for the next two and a half hours. It was very relaxing, and I got some good thinking done. I also picked up some water lilies and played with them. Some nice old guy chatted with me about water sports; he was a white-water rafter, along with his wife (who was in the class, too). He said I was a nice girl and wondered why I didn't have more friends. More ego-boosting. Which was good. :DThen we went to Jersey Mike's and Gram and I did mock the menu-person heartily for writing it "Hungery Mike". The lady at the counter said we were the second people to catch that. Then she blamed it on Seventy-First education. Roffles~

ALSO!

It turns out that Lynyrd Skynyrd is coming over to the Cumberland County Fair. Bitchin'. Maybe I can go see them, since my chances of seeing the Who seem about equal to a snowball surviving in hell. They looked better, but I don't wanna ask Dad for all that money now that it'll go toward repairing the house. It sucks, but I guess I'll just have to listen to my CDs instead. It's more important that the house is restored to its former glory than going to see the boys, isn't it?

On the bright side, that's what the Internet is for, and if I turn the sound up loud enough, it'll SOUND live. There's always a bright side. :3