i want comments, yo. i *crave* them. like hillary clinton craves* the white house.

*based on a comment by some conservative fucker i heard on abc news tonight. conservative rhetoric cracks me the hell up. hillary clinton craves power. she's a bloodthirsty little bitch, that's what she is. because she's a woman with political ambition. gasp.

in other news, george bush says that americans should respect homosexuals' rights to privacy**. in other news, the sky is falling.

**no, really.

blaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrgh.

that's how i feel today. guess the drugs aren't working quite as well as i'd thought.

i should so still be in bed.

i had a series of odd dreams last night, probably ambien-induced (let's just say that i think that stuff stimulates one too many serotonin receptors), the first of which involved me moving into a brand-new dorm that wasn't finished yet. i put posters up on my walls, but i remember thinking that i'd have to take them back down again so that they could paint. and my shit was strewn about the room. and i had two roommates; i'm pretty sure one was heather, but the other wasn't lyndsie. i don't remember who it was. and this girl i barely knew from freshman year was next door, and she's the outgoing type, and she kept yelling "i love you, kat" as i passed her door and i had to yell "i love you, jess" back at her. and then my knees stopped working while i was walking through what appeared to be an airplane waiting room, and i had to lay down on this bench that someone who looked a lot like a high school ex's best friend was trying to arrange in a square for some sort of celebration. then i walked (well more like stumbled, 'cause my knees collapsed every step) into the dining room and told my mom what was wrong and she got all pissed, like i didn't protect my knees the way i should have, 'cause they were the only pair i'd ever have, and now i'd need multi-thousand-dollar surgery on them both.

my other dream was more enjoyable.

I am Jack's inflamed sense of rejection.


I am Jack's...? (pertaining to Fight Club)
brought to you by Quizilla

amy lee is fucking hot.

too bad they made her music sound so much like linkin fucking park. it has so much more potential than that.

my sister is listening and singing along to the smashing pumpkins' cover of landslide. i don't know if this is a good thing, or disturbing. i suppose it's good that she has okay taste in music after all, her penchant for the white stripes notwithstanding (please don't assrape me for that, mikeo). and thank GOD it's not the fucking dixie chicks cover of landslide, which makes my ears want to cry, and for which stevie nicks should kick some blond country asses*. i am, of course, still partial to tori's version - i can listen to that song over, and over, and over. i guess i'm just weird like that, 'cause i do that with a lot of songs.

*this doesn't mean i don't respect the dixie chicks - after all, they are ashamed that the president of the US is from texas. amen, sistahs. anyone (especially in the country music industry) that speaks out against george w. fuckwit** deserves my respect. i just don't have to like their music.

**dude. i just used the word fuckwit. i think it's an excellent word, and should be introduced into everyone's vocabulary. fuckwit, and tosser. the british have the best insults ever.

good fucking song by a good fucking local band making it big :D

man, is my mood ever confused right now. it's an odd feeling, being me right now. that's all i'm gonna say about that though.

effexor. it sounds like something from 1337sp34|<, does it not? j00 sux0r, i effex0r. eh well, we'll see how this shit works.

and now for something COMPLETELY different....

i don't blog because i'm a "writer". that's pretty much bullshit. my blog sucks ass, my writing has no creative aspect at all. it's much more of a release mechanism. and i'm blogging less frequently now that i keep a paper journal - which is filled with the same drivel as my blog usually is. every now and then i do get creative spurts, but they never produce anything *good*. it's like the disclaimer on my homepage: "I write shit almost daily. This does not make me a 'writer'." how the fuck are you supposed to punctuate that? is that okay? i got the quotation marks right, aren't you proud of me?

one time, someone i was just getting to know and was thinking about collaborating on a project with asked to see my blog so that he could get to know me through my writing style. i think he described it as "drunken rambling." yeah, pretty much. i'm not fucking awesome like neal stephenson, fucking hilarious like tom robbins, or fucked-up like chuck palahniuk. i just write.

that does not make me a "writer".

p.s. if you want to read stuff that "writers" have written... check out uber.nu. it kicks ass.

why did i let him keep my paintings? i miss them

i know where i wish i were right now. do you?

and i'm at home. sweet, sweet southlake.

dammit.

ps i miss jared.

i've decided i need a blogging interface in the shower, because that's where i do my best thinking. i wish i could remember my exact train of thought. i think it had something to do with the fact that maybe if my parents knew a little more that went on in my life, they would trust me to make my own decisions about people. that maybe i've learned a little about myself in the past year. self-respect. who to trust. who NOT to trust, more importantly. how to make important decisions. and when to get out of situations that are hurting me.

i don't really believe in these things, but my horoscope this morning kind of rang true: "With the sun and Venus in your partnership house, try to resolve problems sooner, rather than later. Blowing your cool and burning bridges will get you nowhere." okay, so it's sort of obvious, but admittedly, i had been considering doing just that - blowing my cool and burning bridges. especially since i have a 5-gallon jug of lighter fluid and a flamethrower five words away.

meh, i don't really feel like finishing that post. whateva. my anger has turned to apathy, and i feel like i'm just being petty arguing this point further. yes, my parents are assholes. yes, i'm their tool. no, there's nothing i can do about it, unless i want to give them the Big Fuck You and striking out on my own. and i don't think i'm ready for that yet. oh well. i'll figure all of this out eventually.

i really can't keep living like this. being under the thumb of my manipulative, power-thirsty parents is really, really getting on my nerves, and i'm about to crack. i'm seriously about to start researching education-financing options that would allow me to just say "fuck you" to them and do whatever i want. i'm fucking twenty years old, i'm not some little high schooler who needs chaperoning. the only reason i still answer to them is because i know they're paying for my education - it's gotten to the point where my need for them is purely financial.

so basically they told me that i can't stay here if i'm going to keep hanging out with jared. well, that was kind of my #1 reason for wanting to stay here in the first place. i've met someone that makes me really happy, and i'd like to keep getting to know him and spending time with him. is that such a crime? evidently, it is. i can kind of understand them not wanting me to go over to his apartment a lot, he's a big scary boy who's full of semen, and i'm going to get knocked up if i spend time in his apartment. even if there are hordes of other people around. of course. but not allowing us to hang out at all, even when i've been home ON TIME both fucking times we've hung out, is a little tyrannical i think. their main objection seems to be the location of our hanging-out, which is more than absurd. sure, he lives in tacoma. that's where he fucking goes to school, he can't help it. and then we went to seattle for ice cream yesterday afternoon. seattle. the u district. i know it's a little bohemian, that's what makes it cool. but what we're doing is so innocent it's almost cute. we eat ice cream together. we kiss. whatever. it's nothing bad in any way, shape or form. we're not fucking, we're not drinking, we're not doing drugs. we're not even setting anything on fire. *sigh*

i'll finish this later...

i guess it's been awhile since i've made a meaningful post, hasn't it. hm. life has been, well, excellent the past couple of weeks. there's nothing that compares with the natural high of that very beginning of a relationship. i've been craving this feeling forever, since i kind of skipped it with my last relationship. and now... yeah. i got it. :D every minute i spend with that boy is one of the best minutes of my life. it's a feeling like no other. *insert goofy giggle here*

okay, so i thought this would turn into a meaningful post. i guess not.

you'll be given love
you'll be taken care of
you'll be given love
you have to trust it

maybe not from the sources
you have poured yours
maybe not from the directions
you are staring at

so twist your head around
it's all around you
all is full of love
all around you

all is full of love
you just aint receiving
all is full of love
your phone is off the hook
all is full of love
your doors are all shut
all is full of love

all is full of love, all is full of love
all is full of love, all is full of love ...

-the death cab for cutie version, not the bjork version
(<3)

man, wouldn't the two on the right be the cutest couple evar? ;)

i don't have a lot of time here (we're about to leave for our cruise) but i just wanted to say one thing:

last night was one of the most amazing nights of my life.

that is all.

i'm home, of sorts. back in the states. but i'm homeless until tomorrow, when i go to seattle... awoei a;owiena;owienaioweniawc. weoivwn. woaiwoawinv iowoweni ocwowe nieon wjowiawniev.

(that's me not being able to speak english.)