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| 09:58pm 17/01/2004 |
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NOTE: This journal is INACTIVE. Check my new one at Lj user damnith. I don't know the link, nor do I care to waste my time to make it. so go flock and add me. (: |
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| Teehee. |
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| 08:13am 22/11/2003 |
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mood:  blank
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I actually didn't see Scary Movie five mintues ago, (look at the time of my previosu entry) but I only just remember to write about it.
Honeslty it was one of teh funniest movies I've ever seen. Hilarious, a laugh riot. A couple of times I choek don popcorn. :D Lirl. So much better than the first two, and made by totally different people--little to no sex jokes, and the few inside were real funny. It parodied (parodyed? or paro-DIED?) The Ring & Signs, both fo which you have to see beforehand to really udnerstand the movie. Oooh, and The Others. Shortly. Also makes fun of Michael Jackson (I have absolutely no sympathy for him whatsoever. He has been charged, times before, of child molestation and most recently paid the family of the child who was molested in 1993 30 million dollars to withdraw charges).
I wonder. |
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| ¤ Walking In A Winter Wonderland ¤ |
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| 07:37am 22/11/2003 |
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mood:  curious music: Dream Weaver
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Yesterday was an exciting, thrilling, slightly dissapointed but clissful day. and I'll tell you why.
The Friday started out like any other, myself awakening to a dark world outside, the yards still frosted witht he snow from the last night.(When I wrote "Boy George" in the road. Teehee.) I dragged myself out of bed, crawled onto the couch and awaited my Top Ramen Noodles. (mmmm) Got dressed, packed my bag and headed out the door to walk to the Bus Stop. I then felt a flash behind me and whirled around, then suddenly realised it was lightning, the same storm that had come on Thursday Night(I felt a flash while walking down the hall, the house shook with thunder--i thought either my dad had slipped on the roof or a boulder fell from the sky). The thunder came a moment later and I walked, quickly, downt he block.
When I arrived at my stop, we were all the same as always. We didn't speak to all of us, only to our little groups of friends. There were three or four sixthg raders, a couple sevies and us eight graders. We never spoke to anyone 'cept our own kind. A few were from different countries, but we rarely socially met. It's not that we had anything against each other, we just never made a real point of having an honest conversation. We stayed within our bounds.
However, when my six grade friends started throwing snowballs at each other, (and a few rogue ones managed to hit us) Kayla, a eighth grader like myself, became frustrated and teasingly bitchy because of the snowballs. This all changed, however, very quickly.
Kids have a calling. An instinct, deep within themselves that adults forget. They have magic, wonder, a different sense for things. One of these magic things is snow. We live out here in Washington, a place where snow is so rare school systems designate snow days because we they pity how stupidly un-white christmas-like out christmas's are. Snow is different over here, sometimes when we get lots of it, it seems realer than grass or trees--it fells new and rare, and the very near idea of snow sends me into a state of bliss.
It began snowing. No one believed me when I cryed out it was snowing because they thought it was hail--Psshah. It was little dipiin' dots things, white, but thats the kind of snow we got the night before. When it began snowing, big white flakes snowing, all hell broke loose and we turned into kids.
The few russian kids that didn't speak english and tended to themselves, shy, began throwing snowballs at the american sixth graders. The outcast, ugly eighth grader threw them back and dodged Dalton's. I screamed out loud and dodged a few myself, while Kayla chose to complain about the whole thing. I was exilirated and jumped up and down, literally, as the fight commenced. Our bus became 10 minutes late because of the blinding snow, but we prospered. At that bus stop, for 10 minutes we were transformed into children again, playing the snow and laughing and whatnot. It did not matter what language we spoke, what we looked like, how old we were or whether our social characteristics were high or not---for 20 minutes we were one, we were caring, we were unfazed. Our laughter fed our lonely hearts and we basked in our happyness. It was, amazing, and enlightening.
When we arrived on the bus, we expected a snow day. Our bus driver yelled at us, unusually, to shut up because our lives were in her hands (hehe) and there was blakc ice all over the road. Kayla worried, and I realised that day that perhaps my spiritual being, my artistic, dreamer side, was alone--I've realised this many times, instances where my friends do something or react in a way that leaves me feeling desperate. It's like I'm so different from them, they are so caught up in themselves they don't realise deeper meaning and such. I continue my search for someone who not listens but understands.
We listened tot he radio silently, waiting for a announcement that school was canceled. Apparently one bus had slid out of control and into another car, another was stuck at our middle school and needed a tow truck, and Illahee was on total blackout. No cars could get in, no cars could get out. The snow was blinding as our bus inched its way to school.
However, we were still 'one'. We chattered excitedly about, when we were told that we could go home, we would all stay at the bus stop and have "Snowball Fight 2003". One kid behind me recalled, spurringly, "This is, right now, the BEST day of my LIFE!" Adrenaline rushed through my veins as I dreamed of telling you all about staying home and this new spiritual outlook, this social existence, this child-like magical moment.
However, our bus made it to school when the teacher sput sand on the road, and we had to stay in school. The snow melted and all day, I was dissapointed and teasingly bitchy. My dad, ooh, he was considering letting me off that day, but didn't. (Screw parent instinct). Almost the whole school was gone snow-day and I felt, earnestly, and honestly, dissapointed. It was like that. My friends noticed my change but did not say anything. They had never seen this side of me before.
Sometimes I feel I try to hard to create an image of myself. If I cast myself as a dreamer, I won't have the privelege of having friends who are comediacly funny. If I am a insane, wacky and random freak (my current sandwhich style) then no one will realise my spiritual, deep side--and when I meet people ike that they think I am jsut trying to impress them instead of revealing myself. I have so many sides to me that is astounds even myself how I can be. What side do I reveal to whom? Why do I act this way?
These are two examples of how the world can sometimes suprise you with the magic of unity, or the loneliness of human character. |
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| 03:35pm 15/11/2003 |
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mood:  lonely music: Tupac: Resurrection Song with BIG E
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I feel lonely. |
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| Journal Locked |
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| 06:09pm 22/08/2003 |
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 Yes, that's right. Shelby's journal is now Friend's Only. Comment, and I may add you. Thank you, and goodbye."Many have forgotten this truth, but you must not forget it. You remain responsible, forever, for what you have tamed." -Antoine De Saint Exupery |
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