The Lina Way of Life

Force Among Friends

2008-12-15T21:39:00.005-05:00




The air was hot
filled with the aroma of humanity.
Each girl’s thigh sweat
as if a man was to have his way, 
And you and I were absent with the wind. 

I found myself behind the small white house
where the grass seemed to be drenched in spirits.
Your already wet whistle was beckoned to my cheek. 
And soon, your lips illegally released me to  
where I wanted to linger.
To this kiss that was so yearned for.
To the silence that was so perfect.
But forbidden words were spoken.
And you and I went absent with the wind.

I found myself in the darkness of the nights river.
Its emptiness flooding my vulnerability.
Your already drenched whistle found me there too,
where my soul bore naked to the blurred night sky.
Soon, our bodies tangled in attempt to uncover the past
and as each layer was stripped away I found myself slowly recovering to find 
       That you almost had me there.
In the rocks that cut so deep
and in the mud that stained permanent. 
       You almost had me
In the trust of my arms and in the dark want of my eyes
       You almost had me
It made me want to scream out of unfelt pain
And cry out of unseen shock
But you
       went absent with the wind.




The air is cold,
No longer filled with its friendly pungencies.
And I, cut so deep and stained so permanent,
Wish to go absent with the wind.

More Than A Feeling

2007-10-05T01:45:00.004-04:00

I’m sure you’ve felt it.
Felt it with every inhale and exhale,
with every tremor of your body.
When your chest, being the feeling’s only boundary,
tries to move, wriggle
accordingly from what is inescapable.
Nothing can make it stop.
Nothing can make you stop feeling, thinking,
breathing in the idea that you want something that you
can’t look for.

But you want it. You want its so bad.
So bad, it becomes this torturous progression
from looking to not looking but wanting to look, to not looking while secretly looking all
during those 2AM drunken minutes of
dark toppled moves toward that
dirty couch in the corner.

And yet it doesn’t count,
at least, that’s what you tell yourself
as you resort to your teen vogue bibles and cosmopolitan preachers,
hoping that maybe you can find one more image, one more movie, one more song, or story
to let you know that your faith
is not a lie.

Its aggravation.
Its frustration reeling its distorted head,
to hiss the fact that your hopes,
my hopes, might not exist.
And no matter how cute I look in those tight jeans,
or how easy my belt is to take off,
I know that I’ll still have to wait,
still have to count those tedious tantalizing minutes till-

You know what?!
That pisses me off.
That for every minute that goes by,
for every tick of that taunting round face,
I don’t have the power.
And I feel persecuted
I feel hate as I wait, wanting,
wanting to know, to love, to decide who goes
and who stays for all my make out montages
with John Mayer soundtracks,
looking for what
I. can’t. find.

It damages my drive, my self esteem, my
pure existence to know that I don’t have that power, that choice
to find who will give me my romantic redemption.
So I will say this:
I’m here
and I’m waiting,
as long as it takes.
And, I’ll look at my watch,
I’ll take a breath,
and I’ll move
accordingly.

Something Of A Realization

2007-08-22T11:53:00.000-04:00

It was only a weekend. One weekend, in the middle of no where, when I felt the most comfortable, though we all know we approached the weekend with different intentions. Whether it was getting ass, or completely drunk, we approached this weekend with a crooked smile that, if done by a six year old, you would know that it was up to no good. On the first weekend of August, we all met at Don's house to drive up to his cabin in the woods. I was almost late, as per usual, but we all got there with a sleeping bag and a smile. I hadn't seen some of these people for years, but I reestablished the connection very quickly. We drove up to the cabin as though we had never left each other's side, making various jokes about Don's intensity, the fact that we were in bumble-fuck, and the large hickies that decided to cover all of my neck. Eventually, as if the three hours were three minutes, we got there thinking "that was fast!"

The cabin wasn't much. It seemed to be lost. A sea shanty that was stuck on a dirt road with a cliff view to the Delaware river. It had a whopping number of five cherry red rooms and a wooden shack which was to be used if we had to do the worst of bowel movements. This was only for the fact that we couldn't flush the toilet for fear that Don's father would kill us using the stakes and twine that he specifically told us was NOT for play nor hair accessory. I think it was also safe to say that the town was just as small. The town had one cop, a general store, a two screen movie theater, and not to mention an up to date (if the date were 1970) hunting store. The moment you entered this town you fell in love with its quaintness, even though you knew you weren't ever going to step foot in it unless it was for alcohol.

I fortunately never had to do that work. The alcohol was brought to us around noon and we started immediately, taking various breaks to float in the river, or skip rocks off of the old slate that surrounded the beach. No pressured shots, or chugging was in this day, instead the day's activities accumulated to comparing Rolling Rock bottles to the male anatomy, eating nothing but burgers and dogs, dancing to Shakira, and watching the "Nap Committee" form before our eyes. We all didn't know each other extreemly well but we all had a wonderful time, and when night fell it wasn't any different. We all cared when one of us fell of the cliff, or couldn't decide who he was going to make out with that night, or if he should put another marsh mellow on the fire. I was daring enough to try things that I had never done before such as swim while intoxicated, or smoke hookah from a bong. When midnight came around we all supported each other's theory that we should go to bed after such a hard days work, and when we woke up, we commemorated each other for the amount of alcohol that we consumed and the fact that all, but one, put our pants on correctly last night.

That morning was probably one of the most peaceful ones that I had felt in a long time. I woke up and walked outside to view a golden landscape that was breathtaking. And, as each of us rose to the occasion, we all proceeded to take a seat, looking at the earth in silence. No one had to speak, we all understood that everything, for that moment, was right in the world. All 18 of us, with our different conflicts and various anxious lives at home, were at peace then. No one had parents to worry about, or work later that day, or a heartbreak waiting at home, they just had the view of the river, and the mountains, and the occasional bird that would skim the sky's surface.

The volume of the day only grew to a loud whisper as we joked at what ensued the night before. Later, Don passed the guest book to sign. Many wrote short "thank you's" and some wrote a paragraph or two. When the book came to me, I decided to write about balance, for I had never felt such balance in my life. Because even after the three hour drive home, to which we combined with arrangements of classic rock, there was nothing that could describe this weekend.

This story doesn't even begin to describe the feelings I had there. I was content, happy, with who I was. I was the ideal me. I know that might sound strange but since the halfway mark in Freshmen year, I haven't had many moments of sheer contentiousness. I have only felt a struggle between the high school me, and the College me. Here, I found the balance between chill and hyper, lax and funny. No one judged me for what I did or said. Everyone was gracious, relaxed, accepting, and loving. And I realized that it was the people. The communication I got back from them, and connection we made. It was these people that I knew that I would be friends with no matter what. Not because we were in a play together, or choreographed a piece together, it was because we all respected and loved every moment. I'm not putting down theater or dance, you all know me better than that, but I'm recognizing that sometimes life isn't about those things. Life isn't about getting that part, or having those friends. Life is about the moments you gather and the connections that you establish, and aiming to feel the way I felt that weekend. Maybe that's why I do theater, to try to find that feeling again through other's stories, but I know that I can't replicate that formula again. All I know is that I want to feel it again. And I hope to God that I can feel it with the people that I love now. I don't want to start all over again. I don't want to look for a new beginning. I like where I am now, who I'm with now. At least I think I do. I can't help but get the feeling that I went about it all wrong. Not to say that I don't like the friends that I gathered this past year, just that I took a weird path. I know better than to judge people. I know better than to aim for a status. I also know better than to say that I can escape these things. We can all wish they would go away but, lets be honest, they're inescapable.

I once heard someone say that: "The hardest thing to be, is yourself." I completely agree. There is something about getting to know yourself that is extreemly hard. To do justice to yourself with every decision in every moment. I have a feeling that it is something deep within and I wish it came as an instinct and maybe it does. But then why do we have logic, and reason, and a two sided mind that can see from a completely different point. There is nothing I can really do but exist, and try, and accept, and most important learn, and feel. I don't know who I am going to be this year, but I am going to try really hard to be who I, not my mom, not my best friend but who I want to be.

There Will Never Be Enough

2007-06-18T11:46:00.000-04:00

In life I think that I’ve done pretty well. Yeah, I have a wonderful family, I am going to a great school, and I have millions of friends who are on my side and care about me. But there has always been one thing that I have never been good at: Language. Languages have always tortured my brain and body. I never can get them right. What their saying, what I’m saying, its all a jumble of words that sound great together, with one catch: that you have to put them in the right order for someone to actually understand your meaning. Its like a fucking crap shoot to me. And we have done test for dyslexia and writing and reading disabilities. I even have extra time. But in the end, there is something stuck, a gear maybe, and I still can‘t get it. And I’m not just talking about the romantics, ironically, its English too.
Throughout my life I have learned one thing: “Communication is key.” This phrase is something that I survive on. I have used this to remind me that speaking isn’t an easy thing. Its with this that I can go into a relationship with anyone knowing that I can get what I want and give them what they want. The amount of mature relationships that I have with my friends is really amazing, and I know that they will last a life time. You think that I would get it right in all situations but I guess not. With this situation the lines are fuzzed. And I’ve tried to blame it on dyslexia but in the end I guess its something beyond internal. Something I just can’t get right.
There are so many other people who understand me, my feelings, and what I’m saying. They understand how I feel about you and how much you mean to me. And not only do they realize and appreciate you but they almost envy you. But somehow when it comes to you, I can’t seem to convey it correctly. I can’t put it in the right order so that you can see what I actually mean. It gets tiring because the three god damn words just don’t have any meaning any more. And no matter how pretty the card, or how beautiful the sun set, they never, ever have the weight that I intend. It gets to the point where I get so tired of fighting a battle where the odds are beyond against me, where I am so much on your side, that I gain up on myself for you to win. And in that battle, I never win, no matter the school, or the friends.
So, I'm angry and frustrated that you don't understand that I would give it all for you. I am beyond thankful for what you have done for me and my dreams. And I will succeed no matter what because its your approval that means so much to me. And I know that you would think that was silly but I guess you will never know. You will never know that I have looked up to you as a woman, as a worker, and as everything else. I have wanted so much to be a good person for you that I have even checked in with myself to see if I had not taken on your flaws. There is a reason why people think that we are so much alike.
In my life I have met many girls or “women” as my history teacher Mrs. Grady would call them, but in the end you are the only woman to me. You are the strongest woman in my life and frankly I have modeled much of myself from you. Hopefully one day you will see it and this fight will end, and I can stop screaming the three god damn words that never seem to get into your head. Maybe it is something internal, and maybe I need more than just me to understand the true problem, but in the end I’ll scream the words all while the war wages on and until my voice is horse: “I LOVE YOU!”

Oh, To Tell A Friend

2007-04-26T00:51:00.000-04:00



Boy, boy, boy
Where have I gone with you?
Or, where haven’t I gone?

To those fall days?
Do you remember those fall days?
When the brisk wind would playfully blow all that we knew, away.
You seemed so distant then,
another figure for the collection,
another face for my poster plastered wall.
              But now you’re more,
          Much more.

I remember those days, when things were simpler.
And like the childhood that we were leaving
with our teddy bares, and our baby dolls.
It was easy
             and innocent.


I remember the days when you had no flaws

                                   I remember when I found them.

And it hurt.
It tore me to know that the one person that I
devoted so much, too much,
had let me down.

And I tried, tried to give you another chance, but then
they came flooding.
The blurred nights drenched in uncertain touch,
and the mornings of bitter “Sorry’s” and crisp goodbyes,
and you
letting me down one apologetic moment at a time.

I guess you were always this way.
Its sad to know that.
That through all your puzzled pieces and
all our toying games that will never cease to end,
You will always mean so much, too much,
of nothing.

Boy, boy, boy
Who are you to me? Or who are you not to me?
You are my everything and yet nothing but my
guilty disappointment.

The Spagetti-Strap Tank With The Limited Too Tag

2007-02-24T17:13:00.000-05:00

Do you ever have that shirt? You know, that shirt. That shirt that you will always get compliments in and people will just tell you how remarkable you look in it. That one article of clothing that once you put it on you are a million bucks? The power of the shirt is really phenomenal if you think about it. Because how amazing is the power of a compliment? A compliment can lift spirits, make a person look at you a different way, and even (in some rare circumstances) save a life. And then you have those times when you might not being wearing that shirt but you will act as though you are and people will still compliment you. And then there are those weeks, months, or years that go by where you feel like a million bucks. I had that once. It was great. People would just recognize my work and my talents left and right. Then I came to college.
Now let me just interrupt myself for a brief moment. I am not writing this entry to get sympathy, not at all. In fact, it is the complete opposite. For its not about the compliments, its about the person behind them. Compliments are tricky things to which you can either be addicted to or in terrible need of.
In this case it was the former rather than the latter. I had gone through my senior year riding high. Suddenly, I was the one getting the parts, the opportunities and not to mention the men. But when I went to college no one knew me. I couldn't expect for people to suddenly love me, and I didn't. But as I said before, I was addicted. I survived on anything I could get. But you knew that if worse comes to worse you could always put on that shirt and it would all be fine. The power would be yours again. Well imagine if the power from that shirt, had left you. Yeah sure, you had that shirt, and it still looked dashing on you. But as time goes, so does its fads and so did that brilliant power.
Now many of you are thinking "Aww I am so sorry! That shirt still looks brilliant on you." And that's just what you want them to say; because that is, in fact, a compliment. I found this out the hard way. I wanted that compliment back. I wanted that person to say "Hey don't worry. I'm still madly in love with that shirt." But thats not how the chips fell for me. Instead I had a good friend pull me out of my deep dark addiction and tell me the truth "Carolina, you kinda asked for this. That shirt, it went on without you and now its time for you to move on. Because, Carolina, that is life." Man was he right. Yes, he did take that power away from me. But power hungry is not the way to be, in fact, its pretty ugly. I know now that I can't survive off of a compliment, let alone a shirt. Because sometimes you have to take the less warm and fuzzy side. Plus, that side, in the long run, will be better than that one compliment of that one shirt in that one second that will one day lose its precious power.

An Autumn Visit Pt. 2

2006-09-19T01:14:00.000-04:00



The setting stands strong in my minds eye.

The air is crisp,
nothing is still.
The sun’s phases bring such change,
and as she moves into the pillar’s shade
tears well up.

She had been strong till 8:00 am,
awaking to the rise,
but the sun reminds her that he’s not here,
leaving only the empty cans and the bowls of tin
to echo his intoxicating touch.

I remember when things were different
When she would blush not knowing where to gaze,
and the way she peeled herself from his convertible.
That’s all gone now along with the waves and the stars we-
                                                          I’m sorry

Never mind
It’s not my place.
It never was.

I watched her change
and his smile turn to worry.
If only she could remember
to balance her desires.
She uses the stoppers to block what can’t be drained.
She tasted the fruit and tried to savor it
attempting to memorize each taste that touched her tongue.

“So what of her now?” you’ll ask me tomorrow.
I’ll tell you the same ‘till I forget.
For I remember when I was her, lost in perfection
In the air that was so crisp and the nothing that vibrated
with that which was forever still.

Please Hang Up And Try Again..

2006-09-08T10:05:00.000-04:00

Do you ever pick up the phone, dial the number only to hear a constant dial tone? I feel that way about my Xanga. A meager attempt to connect and update with the people back home. It's no facebook, it's no creative blog. It's just my army green Xanga that always is a little more sticky than I think.

Do you remember the days when you would read my Xanga entries and know pretty much what I was talking about? Those were the days when everyone and their dog knew what was going on in my life. Yeah, those were the days. Writing was easier back then. I could carefully skew phrases and turn words, fooling with your understanding of what might have actually happened. And now I am presented with a challenge. People who read my Xanga aren't with me everyday. I can't just assume that you all can guess what's going on. Maybe that's why I have been so hesitant in writing. All I know is that to keep my Xanga alive and thriving I must be able to keep everyone who reads my lily pad colored page updated with my life factually as well as emotionally. But I must do that without the constant stream of boring stories and facts. The one thing that I like about my Xanga is that it has transformed from a preteen diary to an array of expressive entries; each one beautiful in their own quirky way. My Xanga made my writing what it is today and now it is time for the next step.

So, I'm at college, the next step. Everything's a bit harder. Everything is a bit rougher, tougher, and the bar set higher. Keeping touch, keeping everyone up to date, staying connected; it's all harder. You all know how hard it is to keep a conversation going online with me, so this is obviously going to be a challenge. May I ask for a little help? Keep me informed. Tell me when I need to call. Keep me in line. I'm going to need it because even after these two weeks I feel that I am already loosing touch. This is my attempt. My attempt at telling you how hard it is, telling you how hard it will be, and not to mention, my attempt at asking for help. Hey, it's better than a constant dial tone.

Rubber Stoppers

2006-08-21T02:35:00.000-04:00

Guitars strum in the background.
as she twirls the soap suds in the tub.
Poke- one, two. Pop.
It seems those stoppers,
made of rubber, wont block that running water.

She steps out, towel dry,
to find paragraphs of goodbyes
plastered to their walls for the world to see.
For she once said she felt like writing.
He once replied "Write the world."
She knew what he meant,
at least back then,
but she hated what was true.
He was so slowly becoming far and too few.

"I bite my nails when the flashes come flooding"
"But nothing will hurt you" he calmly replied.
She knew it was silly but what could she do?
Cause she heard once.
Yeah, they told her once.
But her ears were too clogged for their cold warnings.

She tried to buy bottles of what she could not cry
but nothing came out for the world to see.
So she’ll end up running, ‘til the last drops drip.
‘cause he’ll say his warm words and scales of truth
that when the time comes, yes,
when the time comes,
Stoppers,
made of rubber,
wont block that running water.

Spent

2006-08-16T01:23:00.000-04:00

The salesman once bartered
“Thirty-two Thousand dollars for a new life?”
I bought it.
He described the growth and the change
“New fangled rooms” he said, “New friends and fun learning.”
I bought it.

Who knew that the waiting would make it feel so overrated
And I, so overcharged.

The salesman once bartered and I once listened
But all I have is an empty stoop
And a kink in my neck from saying goodbye.

They told me I would like it.
“You’ll like it, you will!”
I bought it.
They told me it’s worth the work.
They told me. They did.

But I stand here at the curb
The smell of corn whisking me back.
“Don’t forget a coat.” I repeat to myself.

Who knew the waiting would make it feel so overrated
And I,
so overcharged.

The Forgotten

2006-07-23T00:33:00.000-04:00



A dark wooded forest and an overcast in the sky
alone and distant, we stand.
In groves of shadows and
never-asked questions
we’re waiting and pondering for the times that were.

As I remember the laughter, I smile.
As I remember the jokes, I sigh.
But then, as if a hush came over the wood, 
my mind closes and there is
         no more. 

“Hello? Are you there?” I might shout
“Yes, I still am” You may reply
But our distance grows and as night falls our groves grow darker 
with the overcast still hanging in the depths of the sky

Embraces of love
and pain out of laughter 
No more are they present in my mind.
Cold worries and clouded fear now protrude forcing out 
           “Where are you? I need you…
                 Come find me”

If you could change, move, come
or if I could ignore and give
shadows wouldn’t seem so grim.
But their foreboding pits go deeper than they seem
So we stand center,
Scared listening to the wind push the leaves
Leaving us in our groves
Leaving us in our
                Loneliness

Goodnight Kiss

2006-07-18T01:11:00.000-04:00

The night so humid
you can feel his sweat
Plastered to the leather, you peal yourself from his car
Don’t break the moment
Don’t breath too quick
Don’t talk, don’t step, don’t
Wait
Perfection

An Autumn Visit

2006-07-17T00:45:00.000-04:00

The air is crisp
Nothing is still
And as you brush your arm against mine
my skin begins to pulse

I don’t mean to intrude
For such a delicate matter could break
But she doesn’t know
So I figured I’d drop by

“I’ll wait” you said
“As will I” I thought
But your presence is calming
And I know it’s worth every second

If it was me that your eyes danced upon
I’d slowly blush not knowing where to gaze
If it was me your lips longed
I’d quickly rush ruining each and every
Wait
Don’t leave I just thought we could lie here
Like the clouds in the morning
Or the stars we gaze at night
There’s no rush
I know there isn’t
But to taste that fruit would be something of a fancy
Something I’ve missed and longed for

“I’m sorry? Never mind”
You’re so wise
Calm and steady
If only I could fallow
I guess I’ll stay behind with the air
that is so crisp
And the nothing
that is forever still.

Like Diamonds In The Sky

2006-07-16T00:24:00.000-04:00

What is freedom? What is independence? What is free will? Choice? Or liberty? I tell you I may not be able to identify and define each one of those words exactly because, as I connect back to Mr. Steven’s Identity class, its impossible; but I will say that as I come to the middle marker of my summer I know exactly how each one of those words feels. Its the feeling of you hair blowing in the wind. Its the feeling of a your abs hurting all too much from laughing. Its the feeling after you have been kissed. Its the feeling of waiting for a kiss. Its the feeling of a hesitation, a moment that stops and hovers for a little while. These feelings, they combine every once in awhile and as the fireworks, or the laughter explodes from their ports, it is a glorious and breath taking sensation, a drug you would never want to quit.

I guess I could say that I have started feeling all these emotions since the end of my high school career, which is ironic since that is an ending but we move on. Or maybe I started feeling freedom when I got my license. Either way it is a sensational surge. I can go wherever I want, whenever I want. I can care a little bit more for each and every person I love. I can blast my music or I can listen to just the whistle of the wind passing my ears, either way they are strong and true sounds that I constantly want to connect with.

But its not even the idea of going wherever whenever; it’s the idea of the summer. This summer. The idea of life, bright greens and blues and the idea that I am truly free from the usual limits and boundaries that I would have were I going back to Springside. I don’t have to worry about summer reading. I don’t have to worry about finishing my history packet. All I have to worry about is getting my campers to the right place at Springside’s Camp. All I have to worry about is finding the funniest way to present the next skit in the Cabaret. But even with those measly “worries” there’s the idea that I am not a high school girl looking for a boyfriend. There’s the idea that nothing, in fact, matters during this summer and its brilliant. To not have the usual pressures of being a teenage girl worrying about what people will think or who she should be with within the coming year. To gain experiences and to throw caution to the wind. Its amazing, its glorious, its something that I have never felt before.

So as I am slowing accepting aka flat out ignoring that I am going to college within the coming month, I will truly experience the way it feels to live life. To be strong, passionate, relaxed, loud. To be silly, to be beautiful, and to most of all be free.

Dear Sir,

2006-06-05T23:56:00.000-04:00

So I'm just going to jump into this, is that ok? I mean then again I jump into everything so really me asking your permission isn't going to mean a god damn thing. Ok, so it's late on a Monday night; I just came back from an outing with my friend, Phillis. We had fun. We saw The Break Up, that cute romantic comedy staring Vince Vaughn and Jennifer Aniston, who I personally think should have stayed with Brad but who am I to delegate? Anyway, that's not the point. The point is that yes, I saw a romantic comedy which means that my emotions are, most certainly, at a heightened point. But as I stated in the last update: it's always there, making it a blessing and a curse.

Right, so, down to business. You know I never really liked business. It's always so tiering and there you are at five in the afternoon, exhausted. Anyway, let me get down to the point. I am writing you to say that I'm annoyed, pestered, pissed. Ok, pissed is too strong of a word, but you get the idea. You see, I have found a flaw, dear sir. A flaw, not in the system, and not in you, definitely not in you, but in me. Yes, well, you see, within these past few months I have been leading both you and I on. It's horrible and I know that I shouldn't have done it. But you know with my ill step mother and my grandmother combined, my head was never really tightened to begin with. I also must say that by leading us on I have therefore lied to keep "us" going. It's actually quite funny really when you think of it. I mean, there I was, and there you were. And we were just there. Yes, quite a chuckle, I had, when I thought about it. As soon as it came to my mind, I phoned Phillis. And I said "Phillis you ought to here this!" Well yes, she got a good kick out of it too. But, anyway, that's not the point. The point is, I'm annoyed. Yes, annoyed. I just wanted it so badly. Do you ever see things in the movies? Things that you would give anything for? Well, I have never had those things. I usually draw the short straw when it comes to relationships. And when I saw it so close to my grasp I thought a little lie wouldn't hurt to get what I wanted. Well, as you could expect, the more the lie went on, the more that small voice grew louder. You know the small voice, don't you? Yes well, it seems to come out whenever you're doing something dreadfully wrong. And in this situation I definitely was. You see, dear sir, I was giving into temptation. And now with not a word from you and since our last words were some what bitter tasting, I feel as though I am allowed to feel upset. I know, it's very childish of me. But you can't blame me, a bit of everyone seems to stay in their adolescence. Right, so yes, I'm annoyed. I'm annoyed that you haven't contacted me, sir. I'm annoyed that I have lost your sweet words and your kind undertone. I'm annoyed that I haven't gotten what I have asked for. And that, dear sir, is another flaw I have found. You see, as I continue this act of childish behavior, I seem to become a mere five year old and whine whenever I don't get what I want. I seem to be throwing a trantrum without it. Even this measly letter is an act, hoping to get a small apology. When really, you are definitely not the one to be apologizing since I, in fact, used you like a dish rag (excuse the frankness). I guess, dear sir, that I miss you but for the very wrong reasons. So, I must say, what a gas I had, when I realized that you were doing the right thing and you are a little more than two years younger than me. Sometimes we never learn.

Well I hope that this will not effect or interactions in the future for I will certainly miss my bridge partner. Plus, the girls will be asking for you and what am I to say? That he has gone to bombay? Certainly not. Dreadful times, there are, in Bombay or is it Iraq? Oh well, that's not the point. The point is that I wish we could talk, man to man, or rather woman to man, or well you could go first which would make it man to woman. Oh dear, I seemed to have let my mind run away with me. So in the end my point is, I wish you would write or a possible phone. It would be a delight to hear. Plus, I'm to have tea on the fourteenth and what would I do then?

Sincerely and most lovingly yours
Nancy Bedagain

I'll Take A Little More Please!

2006-05-14T17:33:00.000-04:00

Projects. A time period where you, a senior in high school, gets a glimpse into the real world and ultimately what college will prepare you for. I was excited and ready to take on the dedication and responsibilities that a job brings. Hanging lights, building set, and breaking new ground in my mind on the knowledge of what I love. It's amazing to learn and explore without fear. I love getting up in the morning, getting dressed for painting the set, bringing tools to work, taking the train and subway and feeling completely independent. I don't miss homework. I don't miss tests. I don't even miss writing which I am so excited about. But there is something do I miss. Friends, teachers, people who love me, people who I can connect with and love right back. I miss the jokes, the laughter, the conversations overlapping, even the drama. It is so hard to imagine that I am not going back to those hallways anymore and stoping people to talk about Players rehearsal, or the latest gossip. It's hard to imagine the teachers not being right behind me whether for a compliment or a D-form. It's hard to imagine me... not in the art cave.

I'm ready. I feel ready but I don't want to go. Going a week and not seeing Isabel's shining smile, hearing Ellie's soothing voice, listening to Hannah's insults with Lionel's music tuned in the background, and getting a hug from Michael, or a picture with Julia. I miss everyday laughing with Simone on our way for moments at the Rec I will never forget. I could try and squeeze every minute of my weekend with friends but all in all it wouldn't add up. And there I will be, 5 o'clock on a Sunday afternoon, wishing I had just one more hour with my friends. No, with my family.

There's nothing I can really do. Our time is coming to a close and I have to face it. But can't we just go to the coffee shop one more time? Can't we go bowling after school again? Can't we be caught spooning on my carpet? For old times sake? I know the summer is coming and we'll have three more months of limitless, homework-less, and curfew-less time. But those times will be here and gone soon, and then what? I'll go to college. You will stay in your world and I in mine, and there will be very few bridges. What a depressing thought. Eventually we will all be dispersed to our colleges and jobs and we wont have the art cave anymore...... Fuck you time, that's not fair! I want more time, I want more!

Well, fine, who needs time anyway? Not me?!

... I think....

A Lesson In Art History

2006-05-13T22:19:00.001-04:00

She’s a sucker for modern art
And she knows where she comes from
A legacy of Smiths and Browns
She paints, filling numbers in
But no leaves are on the tables
Another day alone

And so on
And so it goes
Another day
Another walk
Another sound in the dark
And so on
And so it goes
Another day
Another walk
Another sound in the dark

See me, her invisibility cries
See me, she’s not the one who died
See me, in the prisms of the dark
But she steps away into herself alone

A boy selling figurines
He knows her favorite colors
Yellow gold and turquoise blue
He sells her the colored glass
For bills of tens and twenties
He’ll never dial the phone

And so on
And so it goes
Another day
Another walk
Another sound in the dark
And so on
And so it goes
Another day
Another walk
Another sound in the dark

See me, his invisibility cries
See me, he’s not the one who died
See me, in the prisms of the dark
But he steps away into herself alone

She’ll never know his touch until it’s way too late
He’ll never know the way she cries
Their backwards map lead feelings that wont reciprocate
So they pick up all their broken glass on the floor

She’s a sucker for modern art
And he knows her favorite color
But they’ll always be alone

Another Crossover

2006-04-04T01:16:00.000-04:00

I guess it's simple to get lost in the crowd. It's simple to sit back and watch. That's not usually what I do but in this case, I am. Not because I want to but because I have to. You see, my life, as of present, is like a train ride. At least, that's how I explain it to my friends. I explain to them how I'm sitting on a train. The seats are standard, not too comfortable but not rock hard. If I position my butt in the right way, it feels glorious. The train isn't going at a high speed or anything, it might occasionally go fast but usually it travels at a leisurely pace. This is so that I can view the scenery but get there on time or, at least, around then.

As I watch the hills and valleys wiggle along the train's frame, I write poetry, sing a long with Mark (my slowly dying Ipod), and other various activities for the traveler. These with the exception of License Plate Bingo, since this is a train ride no where near the road. Occasionally I will glance at my ticket branded with the word College in dark letters, only to see the phrase arriving in remote future at the bottom. I look at the clock but its only a quarter past just the beginning.

As the train crawls along as we past the beautiful scenery which I coincidentally seemed to be looking down for because of a dropped pen or a song change. Therefore making me miss perfect opportunities for sunset shots and pictures of county fairs. Ultimately, though, you can see that I have no reason to complain. Yes, I'm missing the picture opps, but that's my fault. All in all, I got Mark so really I should be fine... or not.

I'm just sitting there, twiddling away time. No one else seems to be in my car, and all my mind can do is linger on my friends, who are probably out for Coffee back home. Joking, laughing, forgetting.

I can't stop the train, and I definitely can't reverse the train. So it is hard to find hope in seeing my friends soon. I'll have to get a round trip then, which coasts money and stamina that I might lack. So, I'm stuck, waiting for the ride to end. I shouldn't be complaining but the wait is grueling. Besides the want for something new, there is a bittersweet taste in the air like the taste of a not-yet-ripend berry of some sort. I have to take swigs of my water just to ignore it.

I have a feeling that within the next month the train will get faster but that's part of torture. The faster you go, the farther away you are, and the more you'll forget their laughter. And though you repeat the jokes and punch-lines in your head their faces become a blur in the grasp of time.

I don't want any of this, but its time. It needs to happen and I understand that. So, here I am with a train ticket, a dying Ipod, the word muffin rewritten more than 20 times in my notebook, and the conductor proclaiming the next stop...

"18th Station! 18th station neeext!"

An Arizona Dream

2006-03-30T21:57:00.000-05:00

It was a normal vacation night for the O’Donnell, Canavan, Millard Family. Our close friends had just left our desert resort and we were out at a “local” though blatantly tourist, restaurant.

We had to wait five minutes to be seated but once at our table the family settled into our mannerisms. Mom began to comment about her great restaurant find, Casey began to brood over his menu, glasses off, and I listened to mom’s proclamation, getting ready to reply with a “Yes mom, what a great find.” We were ready to attack or basket of authentic salsa and chips when we heard “Hi my name is Parker and I will be your server this evening.” My mom and I looked up at our specimen and nodded in approval for this Parker couldn’t have be cuter. After our examination, we then proceeded to give him our orders with as much personality as we could, with the exception of Casey, who had no interest in showing Parker how fun our family could be.

Once he left the table, we proclaimed his hotness and continued to giggle for the rest of the evening which flew by substantially. As mom talked to me about the Indian ruins she viewed that day, I watched the waiters glide through the archways of the plastered Mexican villa, with hope that I would see Parker coming our way. Occasionally he would come straight to our table, flirtatiously smiling as he served me first. But don’t underestimate him. He had a job and he would gladly move past my table to the others with even more young girls like me.

Maybe it was the humid air but I felt I was hit over the head with his charm. There was something about the way he would breeze by our table singing along to the guitarist’s Blackbird or how he would say thank you when he squeezed past my chair as if I had moved it a mile so he could walk by. So, I immaturely twirled my hair, itched my neck, and looked down for fear that I would meet his eyes. Or maybe I was scared that I was just another tip. All in all, I knew is that I was blatantly feeding my inner-preteen dream with this cute, sandy haired, attention giving waiter.

The check came and thoughts came flooding:

This is my chance. Leave your number. Ew you sleaze! Okay how about your screen name. No don’t leave anything. Yeah that will be mysterious. But wait he wont…

The thoughts went on and on, but there I was a seventeen year old, still in high school, and out with her parents on a family vacation; and he was most likely twenty something and had a girl back home, wherever that was. Still, I couldn’t help but slowly walk out of the restaurant, hoping that something would happen.
“Night.” A voice called out.
I figured it wasn’t directed at me, but as I turned around there he was.
“Goodnight” Parker smiled
“Night!” I jolted out in the most thankful tone I could muster.

The ride home was a mind of regrets, plans, dreams, and the word DORK flashing repeatedly. It could be in my head, in fact, it probably is. Just another cute boy who’s niceness is mistaken for flirting that leads on another girlish dream. How pathetic! But here I am with a memory that wont leave my minds front and a receipt for $66.56 signed “Thank you so much! ~Parker”

I laugh at my lack of boldness and I laugh at the thought of it. Nothing would or will happen. So I sit here writing absurdly about a waiter, who makes me blush as I brood over my regret which I will most likely forget. Obviously if my actions were different, my future would be too. But who can tell if I was just another tip on the table? Who can tell if I was just another girl he served that night? But who can tell if he wasn’t my soul mate or a great love waiting to happen? I know, I know, I sound idiotic and prepubescent saying these things. I’ve known for awhile that I have been a hopeless romantic, but this has nothing to do with me wanting a boyfriend. Though it may help, this story is about untaken opportunities and what life could have been if you didn’t sit in the back seat but in the driver’s. Then again, maybe I’m just creating a moral, out of a story of an infatuation that lasted but a weekend, who knows? Take what you will from this story, God knows I wont.

The Smoke In The Wind

2006-03-19T20:12:00.001-05:00



She dances ‘round the fire
Twirling colors that could paint the world.
As she kicks the ground to the fiddle’s tune
You watch her stories unfold.

She makes her mark
She breaks the bark
Weaving ribbons of tales untold
But she wont move into town
For folks would stare, clenching their daggers
Burn her alive for the legends of old.

She walked to town, pure
Once when she was eight
Exploring their coble streets
And their iron gates
    She hesitated
It smelled
Smelled of rot and rust
The stench oozing from their houses
Soon she saw the cages
And burnt platforms seen as stages
She saw the shadows moving for the light
And those who had never put up a fight
Stepping backwards she cried
She knew she would never be one of their tied

So she stayed in her world
Filled with gold’s and burgundies
Making poetry of purpose,
power and pity.
For words she will share
And rhymes she will sing
But don’t dare question her
For her words can sting. 

And every once and awhile
She’ll revisit that town.
Amused by their plagues
And their crowns to which they bow down 

You see her smile as she stirs her brew
For you know she is the wind.
A stallion not tamed, just true
She’ll never tremor or scowl or frown
For she is a gypsy traveling to the next town.

This Semester's 2 Hours

2006-03-03T00:36:00.000-05:00

The other day I was in homeroom with my fellow seniors and we all sat around the room, strung over desks, bookshelves, and anything else that could hold our 115lb bodies. Our assignment was to listen and vote for two senior speeches. We listened to Alison's endings, and Maeve's PE requirement, Elspeth's love for teachers, Hope's fear of the school, and let us not forget Eliza's comparison with weeds, but one speech stuck out: Emily Mitnick's speech on service. Automatically, I thought of all the hours of service I never did because I was too "busy." All those kids I never read to or those packages of food that remain unpacked, all because of my lack of wanting to help. After voting, I went to MS Drama, drove home, did my homework, talked to my friends; nothing too special. Yeah, so I stood over some vents that night, but all in all, it was fine.
The next day I was burdened with worry and regret. Why? There is nothing wrong with you, it's everyone else who have the problems. And yet, I stand in the middle of court playing my favorite game for 4 people, alone. The score is 10 to 19 and we're winning but the other 3 people are on the side icing their sprains and pulls. And I would love it if they would just join in. Try to ignore their pains. But obviously this could lead to breaks or even worse. Or maybe they have chronic pain where they try to ignore the handicap most of the time, but sometimes they can't. Either way, there I am in the center of the court with the ball and a gloom about my body.
Obviously, if you know me, you know that I am a person who is passionate, and caring and someone who would give anything for her friends. But you know when people say they do service to "see the results." I feel like my life recently has been a service requirement. Ultimately, it's been fun. I have touched people's lives, and attempted to make a difference. But with this service project, I don't see any results. No one rewards me for how well I balance my career with Players and my studies. Instead Student of the Week goes to the girl who persisted with one measly math problem and stayed an extra five minutes after class.
There are gonna be times when you do stuff and you're gonna hope that you're doing the right thing. There are times when you're never gonna know if you really matter. But for once I would like to be recognized for what I do. Whether it be something I did for a friend at 2 in the morning or the MS. Drama program. I'm not asking for a plack, or a national holiday. I'm just asking for a "Thanks Lina! You do do a lot, don't you?" or maybe a "Wow Lina that is so awesome that you do all this."
But then the opposite side comes rearing it's head. Isn't the point of being a friend or doing a service project to do it because you love it and you don't need the reward. I feel selfish by asking for the thank you. I feel that it should be given. But at the same time I look to those who are rewarded and I feel that I do so much more than them.
So here I am with no problems, or a least none to the size of those sprains and pulls. And I am living with a jump in my step and a musical stuck in my head. But there’s everyone else, not moving at all. I want to belt "Move on," but I know that that is not what they need to hear. They need someone to listen and I was the one they confided in, and I'm honored that they picked me; but as time moves on and I'm always a few strides in front of them, I can't help but notice how ironic my life has been. I have been surround by poeple who are stationary while I'm moving at a lightning speed.
Moving on is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand you're living life and loving as much of it as you can but on the other you're torn by leaving everyone else behind. So I sit here at my computer, silently laughing at the irony of it all. Cause no mater how many times you move on from your problems there are always gonna be ends, PE requirements, teachers, fears, weeds, and service.

See Jane Run

2006-02-20T23:18:00.000-05:00

Ok if you guys actually read this you'll find that you have heard a majority of this poem before. This is because it is the edited version of A Dream of Jane's. So sit back and enjoy the edited more intense, more pollished version... See Jane Run

It doesn’t seem right
you should have some of my height
But when you give me the ball
You make me feel tall

So here I am at the beginning of the story
Hoping it will end in guts and glory
With a dragon and a hero
Saving a princess who felt like a zero

I look forward a few pages
But there are no pictures
Only morals never told by the ages
So I sit back and I think
Grabbing my highlighter that’s pink

You have full faith in me
But no one else feels my glee
So I keep on reading
Hoping everything will come stampeding

But will things be right
When you have some of my height
Dick, you could weigh a ton
And that’s when you’ll see Jane run
That's when you'll see Jane run.

A Dream of Jane's

2006-02-12T20:17:00.000-05:00

It doesn’t seem right
you should have some of my height
But when you give me the ball
You make me feel tall

So here I am at the beginning of the story
Hoping it will end in glory
With a dragon and a hero
Saving a princess who felt like a zero

I look forward a few pages
But there are no pictures
Only morals never told by the ages
So I sit and I think
Grabbing my highlighter that’s pink

You have full faith in me
But no one else feels my glee
So I keep on reading
Hoping everything will come stampeding

Out of Instinct

2006-02-06T23:40:00.000-05:00

Don't ask, just observe
cause you know you'll be jealous when the rain falls down.
I'll be jumping in the puddles while you'll have to carry her umbrella.
Shut up. Don't complain.
You could do it too.
Just look in the mirror and step out into the rain.

A Meaning You Wont Find in The Dictionary

2006-01-30T23:06:00.000-05:00

“Empty pockets.” Who knew that these two words would change my life forever? I was only eight years old and I had been going to GA’s Theater Camp for only one summer. The play was Annie and I wanted a part very badly. All the girls my age were trying out for the star Annie Warbucks or the cutest orphan Molly, but me, I wanted the part with the most laughs and the best songs. I wanted the role of cranky, drunk Mrs. Hanigan who really got the laughs in the show. Every night, I practiced what her voice and character would be like, going as far as wearing a white wig and strutting around the house in my ruby red slippers (courtesy of my previous Halloween costume) to get in character.
When it came my time to audition, I quickly stepped up onto the stage and shouted (no, I am not understating, I literally shouted) “Hi! My name is Carolina Millard and I will be trying out for Mrs. Hanigan.” Sadly enough, my seven-year-old self did not get the part; I was cast as a “Hooverville-ite.”
But this, what some might call a disappointment, did not deter me because the rest of the camp’s four weeks was a blur of laughing, singing, and acting from scripts. Yes, scripts. I had gotten a line, two words: “Empty pockets.” But to me, these were not just two words, but a monologue of conflict and character. I distinctly remember sitting outside of the theater with the counselor. The counselor would say the cue line, and each time I would attempt to say “Empty pockets” as well as I could. To me the whole show depended on this one line, and if I were to mess it up it would ruin the whole show. But don’t think that everything I did within this camp was done in complete intensity. I had more fun than ever singing, dancing, and learning how to put on a production.
After that brilliant summer of theater, I decided to pursue the performing arts as a career. Yes, this seven year old, raggedy T-shirted, and sloppy-haired tom boy of a girl had decided what she was going to pursue the arts. Hey, if you know what you love, stick with it. I then persisted to nag my mom, asking her to enroll me in dance classes, theater workshops and anything musical we could find. Little did I know that the acting world would help out even more than I thought.
When I was in the seventh grade my dad got cancer. Now I know what you’re thinking. “Oh no, not another sob story.” But I’m not here to make you cry, I’m here to tell you about acting and what it means to me. It was around my dad’s sickness that I got more intense with my art only for one fact: I needed to escape. I needed to escape the pressures of the family, the stress, and the tears of every week. I would go to the middle school drama program and be able to forget all the things that were going on at home. I was able to step into someone else and live their life for awhile, forget mine.
After the horrendous middle school years, it was those feelings of escape that got me involved with the theater in high school. And it was there that I felt something completely different when I was on stage. Not only was I transitioning from frivolous musicals to mature drama, but there was something else there, a different feeling.
There are some things in life that you can’t put into words. This feeling is definitely one of them. There is something about developing a character not only on lines but on instinct and gut feeling. There is something about working up to a huge performance, building bond sand making a family. There is something about putting yourself out there on a stage, not knowing if the audience will accept you or not. It’s a feeling of inexplicable intensity and emotion. It is something that is rarely tapped in life, but once it is, the flowing of this feeling never stops. And when the curtain falls on whatever you just presented to the audience, you feel content, whole, and complete.
So here I am in my senior year, looking for colleges, and the best programs all because of two measly words. Two words that gave me a taste of something that I could consume everyday of my life. Something that I have almost grown dependent on, something I’m addicted to. The feeling of completeness, the feeling of intensity, and the feeling of the theater.

A rebellion towards the loved...

2006-01-25T18:30:00.000-05:00

Fuck metaphores

House of Mirrors

2006-01-23T17:14:00.000-05:00

Tops of whirling dervishes
and tents of yellow and gold
in the corner I smile contently
for I know what you know.

I juggle your feelings on wire
and tip toe on stilts to and fro
but you’re perplexed by what I’m smiling
for only you know what I know.

Bearded figures
and toppling men scream
as painted faces laugh
and you begin to question why you had dreamed
to walk through the woods on that summer night.

As we laugh at your mothers and daughters
your tensions bottle up inside
for the mosquitoes are bighting the truth
those black facts that no one can hide.

So into the dark you leave us
our music still haunting
our rhymes all of crime
but there you’ll be broke in the clearing
on that dark and most humid
summer night.

My Tapestry

2006-01-21T16:18:00.000-05:00

Clichés and marching bands and all my rants
make a word tapestry that shines on counts of three.
It lies on a train somewhere in Spain
waiting to be displayed
to wide-eyed children and their step parents.
Some people will clap and some people will cry
but as time flies by
I'll watch the crowd grow in size.
You look at me funny
a suspect of right
two years have I waited for
this mysterious, anxious, and mournful night.

Chorus:
Though my rhymes do chafe and slave
for you they are nothing but folly
Though my rhymes do chafe and slave
for you they are nothing but folly
A babble not worth reading though each lines pulls your pulley.

You're in it now.
In the tapestry so divine
In the song too long to sing for they say it will only waste your time.
So on that mysterious night
a child's eyes did widen and a step parent did gasp
but don't forget the obvious
they need money for gas.

Chorus

So I sit and sit
Sit and laugh- dark and deep
at what fools they all are.
For I know what I am
and I know what I know.
For I am the one with the coins in the pocket
Yes, I am the one with the coins in the pocket.

Chorus

Don't look so confused.
I got here first.
It’s you who is mistaken and have heard it all wrong
Don't look at me lost like a answer with no question
cause you're in it right now
You’re in it right now
My tapestry
you're in it right now.

Though you lie and chafe and slave
For me you are nothing but folly
Though you lie and chafe and slave
For me you are nothing but folly
A babble not worth reading though each line pulls my pulley

Don't Bother Getting You're Map Out

2006-01-09T22:18:00.000-05:00

Do you ever have a moment where you stop whatever you're doing and step outside of yourself? Whether it's a good or bad moment, I am sure that you've done it. Within the past few weeks I have done this repeatedly. I would suddenly stop listening to the story that was being told or the game that was being played; and just take in the moment. What it felt to be with my friends, happy.
I guess since I have become a senior, I have made it my job to absorb every feeling I come upon. Whether it's the rush of adrenalin before you tackle someone, or the warmth you feel when your given a true hug, or even a wet kiss or two. I have been so busy absorbing every moment lately, slowly documenting life, I have lost sight of the negatives. I have reached a state of unexplainable happiness that I have only felt once in my life and it was with four people in a crowded field of worshipers. And I know that this feeling only brings two phrases to your lips. You try to say these phrases every second. You stress them as much as you can with "No, I really mean it" or "I'm completely serious" but some how the people don't realize your sincerity until it comes to the end. So it's here where I say what I've been trying to tell all of you, and hope that you take in the next moment you feel these small words running to you're lips, begging to be screamed.

Thank you so much for all you have done. I love you.

A Drive Back From The Manor

2006-01-04T16:57:00.000-05:00

As droplets fall from the dark sky,
neon signs flash and blur.
And the puddles ripple as the kings drive past.

A peasant sings a lulling tune
only heard by those who stop.
A tune of the once forgotten,
a tune whose lyrics we fail to remember.

As the light dances in fogged beams,
I think of you, a legend
from a painting worn away.
And as questions reminisce in my head,
I step backwards, tipping time.

Eventually, these beams shatter,
hitting our concrete and pavement.
So, I gather what little I can
attempting to replace the popular tyrant
which brings us our prepackaged lives.

I hide them away,
the misted memories,
as I come from the demolished past.
I plan to save my knowledge and myths
for my dark and most dreary,
rainy nights.

Rinse Cycle

2005-12-29T14:36:00.000-05:00

The buzzer goes off. I approach all my clothes left in the sink, all limp, dripping wet. My mom must have put them there, having to use the washer for her own clothes. I pick up a sock but before throwing into the dyer, I pause. I review each seam and piece of cloth. I turn the sock over and over. But on the last turn I find a sentence smeared on the bottom. I blink a couple times, rub my eyes but the sentence is real. It reads:

“Why can’t I do both?”

“How odd” I think. Bewildered, I reach in for it’s pair which has written on it:

“Where to?” and “Do I have to decide?”

“Interesting” I think. I then move through the pile to come upon a pair of jeans. They’re old and worn, but the most comfortable to wear. Around the ankles are two sentences:

“Who does he think he is?”
and
“Hold me.”

I give an exasperated sigh and throw them into the dryer. I then pick up five shirts. This time one word is smudged on each of their backs.

“who” “will” “love” “me” “today?”

I then pick up my school jacket, only to find the word:

“Me”

I giggle as I throw all of these into the black cylinder hole. I then pick up a pair of dance pants.

“Overused”

After that, I pick up the tights. They seemed familiar yet from a distant dream. As I run my hands over their threads the sounds of crickets and the smell of must and sweat come to my mind. I then find the words:

“Use me”

I throw them in the washer and I shake my head as I reach for my cup of tea on the edge of the washer. I go to take a swig, but it’s empty. I give a half smile and go back to my wash. There’s only one thing left in the pile now, it’s rolled up into a ball. I venture further, slowly uncoiling each layer. It’s my favorite sweatshirt. I smile remembering the warmth I felt when it was worn. I turn it over and on the back are 2 simple words:

“Wake up”

Perplexed by such an odd ending to my laundry’s story, I crumple the sweatshirt back up, throw it in the dryer. I pause for a few seconds

But then quickly shake away the thoughts.

I press start.

A Bit of Gin Can Go a Long Way

2005-12-20T22:06:00.000-05:00

This is a sign with the 2 pictures. One of a older man and a younger man drinking with domino looking chips around them. The second is of the younger one getting busted by a cop. Though this sign is hard to see because of the lighting, let me just explain to you it's story and ultimately it's lesson.

Story:
You're a young kid, probably senior in high school. And one night, because you're a complete loser, you're left to hang out with your dad on your weekend night. Since someone seems to have taken the batteries out of your 10 year old SIMON, both you and your dad decide to play a few rounds of Gin Rummy. Ultimately one thing leads to another and you end up playing kings on your nicely furnished basement carpet. Then, all of a sudden, you reach for some more pretzels within your chex mix when you realize you ran completely out. Your father, being the man who could never hold his drink (especially after Crazy Aunt Jeans visit/gift last thanksgiving) throws the car keys in your general direction or maybe just near the stairs (you're going that way anyway) so that you can take the car out and pick some more up. You pull out of your driveway, take a left at the light, and eventually as your driving progressively gets worse, you get pulled over by a cop. The cop arrests you for drinking and driving and your mom awkwardly picks you up from the station worried sick a) where her husband was since he was supposed to be with you and b) how her son got the car keys since he was banned from driving the dodge caravan because of the freak wild turkey collision on the forth of July. Ultimately you get grounded for life for getting drinking in the first place as well as other various government penalties that you never remembered from your permit test. Oh, and your dad never remembered to get new batteries for your SIMON.

Lesson:
Never mix Gin Rummy and alcohol unless under the supervision of the mother of the household.

A Little Slice of Awkward

2005-12-15T19:23:00.000-05:00

Today was tedious but it needed to happen. I knew it, from the moment I saw you walking down the hallway. Though I tried to approach the problem with grace and ease, your reaction tipped my scales. I thought that I had lost you. Automatically, emotions steamed and thoughts became worries, but as the day progressed, I realized that you. are. amazing! So things we're a little awkward but, you know what? You are my best friend and I will never forget that. And, though you may never read this, I know that I must acknowledge that you are a true friend and I am truly thankful.

I love you.

Tis The Season

2005-12-13T20:30:00.000-05:00

Winter. It’s sensational. It’s a season of warm fires, snow covered hills, close nit relations, and gift giving. But, some how, for me, these “sensational” things get lost in the mail along with Aunt Jeans socks and Grandma’s candy calendar.

Every winter it is the same thing. The season of giving, and happiness becomes a season of cold darkness, depression, and tears. In winter I feel utterly and completely alone. I’m left in the darkness at 6:30pm to think about my life and what I am doing. I’m suddenly alone with Kelly Clarkson and the lowest points in my life poping into my chilled head. First thing I look at is the most obvious: my love life or maybe lack there of. It’s so stereotypical of a girl to automatically think of her love life when left alone with love ridden music. To me it’s sickening. I hate it and yet I do it every year. Every winter I get upset by the fact that I don’t have a boyfriend. Why should it matter? Either way I am the same person. And it’s not that I am jealous of some people. I’m fine with the fact that people have a significant others and yet I just wish I had one too.

I don’t really know why I view my love life within the winter. Some how my focus lands not on school work but on my lacking relationships with men. I then begin to go over the equation. I see that I am a wonderful person who has a great personality, is down to earth, cute, and willing to give her heart to anyone who wishes. And yet, I have no one. There is a flaw somewhere in my calculations but I can’t seem to find it. I then begin to look for solutions to my problem. I cut my hair, I start dressing nicely, I try the make-up thing for a day. But everyday I come home with the same empty hands and saddened look. It is then that the cycle begins… What’s wrong with me? Nothing is wrong with me. You shouldn’t let the boys determine the fact that there is. But then why don’t I have one? It’s a continuous and hellish cycle that consists of me being depressed within a feminist mind set. I don’t know whether to give into my feelings or to resist them and be a role model. I want to be a strong woman who doesn’t need a man. But, God damn it, I want a man too.

Lets think about it shall we? Most of my relationships are friendships or crushes. I have yet to actually flirt with a guy and get the reaction I want. Now, this may be because I flirt in an almost joking way, and that’s for me to work out. But I still don’t get it. Regardless of how I am flirting. I am doing everything right, and I am yet to get results. Right now I am within a prime example: the one guy I like is oblivious to the fact that I like him. And I do mean oblivious. You think “No, I’m sure that he gets it” but this kid? No. Doesn’t see one bit of it. I could blatantly hint to the fact that I like him, and yet he ignores my sarcastic comments and moves onto other “wannamakers” in his life.

But even though everyone can see it with the exception of him, it’s alright. I just move on. I keep on living because there is nothing that I can do, really. As much as I would like to be deep and depressed for more than a day, I can’t. So I continue with my upbeat personality. Plus why would I ever want to change myself to get a man? I would never do that….

…Well hardly ever…

::edit::

things change in an instant

A Scream Through Bent Bars

2005-12-11T22:05:00.000-05:00

You didn’t mean to
I know you were innocent

I know that you started off with good intentions and
What they call, a
                 Clear mind

But when you did what you did, I wanted to scream
I wanted to kick you and yell
                                 Shut up!
Stop holding me down
Stop pulling my sides
Stop kicking my heart

You stepped passed the line
And though I thought I was in a state of
Acceptance with this drunken reality,
I wasn’t
And this time there was no
     Trip to the moon
As my escape route

I don’t know whether it was the cloud of goodbyes
Or the hits of hello that shook me awake
But I know that, now,
I am lost
And the numbers of understanding are lacking


I know
You’re innocent
And
You meant no harm
              ….Or did you?


Just
Give me the key to this ball and chain
So that I can live
What they call,
                A life

Maybe I should just delete my Xanga

2005-12-04T23:49:00.000-05:00

Le Bec Hell Week

Les Entrees

Esprit frit
Mind served on a large plate, steamed in confusion, stress, and lack of sleep. Then Fried to perfection in Rec juice and Players love.

Soup Du Jour
Anything the day brings.

Les Plats Principaux

Coeur Bourré
Heart filled with stage fright, dance steps, artistic license, and the Chefs specialty MIS MIS GEH

L'homme de théâtre Bu
Thespian saturated in alcohol. Served with pretzels, water, and steaming sexual urge.

Les Desserts

La gueule de bois de Souvenir
Artist hung for 3 hours with a red sauce containing hugs, fresh tears, and essence of sharpie.

The One Thing That Will Bridge the Gap Between My Xanga and My Blog

2005-12-04T00:44:00.000-05:00

Open

Apparently, I look really different...

Set

Sharpies and resume paper anyone?

Knobs and screws

Hitting Snapples

Wreath

Squirting brown liquid

Waiting for it to spontaneously combust

Frapaccino in the winter?

You want a brownie?

Record time and cider that burnt my tongue.

Where's the stand?

mmmmm

"Once I read this passage, I stood back, stunned by the complexities of the sentences and the word choice which was heavily blanketing the image to the point of no visibility."

"Honkage"

"A plethora of dense images and metaphors were strung throughout this beautiful description, allowing me to see the boat as a devil steaming black smoke and thrashing through the water as if in a tempest."

"He described a large, lush oasis, filled to the rim with beautiful creatures and plants, as a chaotic yet empty and silent desert."

Persuasion

Stench of Silence

2005-12-01T16:41:00.000-05:00




Humorous isn’t it?
I say something through a laugh 
And you take it as a joke.

Oh yes, It reeks of humor.

I try
Try to say it 
But all I get is a hug and smile. 

It means more
Much more than it sounds 
But my mouth won’t put it into clearer terms
And it gets lost
In the borderline which blocks our connection 

Suddenly, words of importance are
              Meaningless
Exhaustion, steaming from their 
                             Overuse

I step back from their fumes 
And grin at my attempts
Which cover its hidden layers
The truth wreaking what cannot be said

And it is then, I notice
               my pitied silence

It just lost its luster

2005-11-23T10:56:00.000-05:00

I was in 9th grade and my friend Meade had a study hall when I had lunch. "Don't worry" She said, "I'll still have lunch with you. My study hall is with Pete." My ears perked up. "Pete?"
"Yeah, Pete. You know, the photo guy?"
"Oh yeah" I replied reluctantly, Remembering that I was a tid bit scared of going in there as a freshmen. "Come on!" Meade said, and off we went down to Springside from are too-close-for-comfort hallways up on the third floor.

I went in and automatically I knew that I was an idiot for even thinking of being scared of this awesome place. Pete would welcome you as if his kingdom of photo was a playground and kids wouldn't care who you were or what grade you were in. There were no censors in this room. You could say whatever you wanted and no one would yell at you, and if they did it was to share an opinion, not give out a D-form. You felt like an equal at that table complete with drawings of penises, hearts, and your average weed smoker; and it was glorious! I found myself hanging out in that room every second I could get. But now, that's not the case.

Today, I find myself visiting when I can, but only if necessary. The room has changed, and into something I don't like, I'm afraid to say. It first started last year with Pete's potential loss of his job. He was to be evaluated and we were all worried since we knew Pete was such an out of the box character. Then as the year progressed his worry turned to anxiety and eventually to depression. There were some definite nudges to this path of sadness, but I'm not here to point fingers, I'm here to tell the story.

Eventually, the year ended and, in Pete's case, on a sad and tired note. Every summer I would leave the Photo room, upset that I wouldn't have it for 3 months but this summer was different. I was quite excited to leave that room. I could go off and do anything because I had found myself. I thought that this summer could give me time for freedom while giving Pete some time to figure out what was going on. But when I came back from the most amazing summer of my life Pete was still depressed and the room had turned from its original, dirty self to a linoleum clean and plastic cold. No longer was the smell of developer in the air, but dry erase markers, and fluorescent lighting replaced it. The first moment I walked in after the change, I knew it wasn't home.

Don't ask me what happened because, to tell you the truth, I have no clear answer. It's just changed. Some how the role of the scared 9th grader and the wise and wonderful teacher switched. Suddenly, I'm the comfortable person who knows who she is, looking down on a confused kid searching for guidance. The tables turned and I tried to help, everyone tried to help but it was no use. Eventually we all had to leave. Each one of his loyal friends had to find a new photo room with the lax vibe of procrastination and acceptance. It's sad. It was something beautiful that was dying slowly and as much as you didn't want to watch it, you had to. Not because you enjoyed the site of pain and suffering but because you had respect for it and by watching its last sparks of original life shooting up, it would give you hope for its honor that once lived. To this day people still wander back to the room, hoping to see those sparks fly again. But they wont. All they'lll see is the meandering of pointless beings trying to help what has already died.

Love those lines. . . ?

2005-11-09T21:16:00.000-05:00

"Lina, you totally just crossed the line!" Recently, I have been crossing the line which does not seem to be approved by anyone. Though I may only do it out of jest, I seem to always be repressed by my line- shall we say "cross-age." Many of these things are "inappropriate" and possibly "vulgar" and yet these blatant warning signs do not deter me from my goal, a possible laugh. But little do we know. . .

Though it may seem that I say an "over the line" joke to hear a laugh or two, if you think about it, it is much more than that. Lines surround everything. setting up barriers and making sure to keep everything inside, in, and everything outside, out. Sometimes it's ok to break the barriers. "Don't fit the mold, make your own." That's what I always say. And yet there are plenty of times when I am thankful or wishful for barriers. Barriers though they can be restrictive, prevent confusion and chaos. When there are barriers you know what's right and what's wrong, but when there are none or they are "unclear" another game goes into play. Suddenly confusion hits the players and greed or jealousy rids the team. No one is civil anymore and you world is thrown into chaos. Confused, you look around for that line you so recently crossed, and yet. . .it's gone.

What do you do now? Your recent bravery in crossing the line has turned to fear and you're beginning to question what the point was. If your possible endpoint is fear within chaos, why would you ever cross the line in the first place? Yet your fear of possible chaos is quickly balanced with the possible greatness, bravery, or reward.

Alright line, what the fuck? Why are you there? Are you there to be crossed? Or shall I obey your laws to keep my sanity? It's confusing and there isn't an answer. All you can do is live, whether safely within the lines, constantly crossing them, or going back and forth between the two. I guess all you can gather from this stream of consciousness is that life is meant to be ambiguous. So it's ok to be confused. It's ok to be stressed. It's ok to be done with life. But just remember, it's meant to be that way. So relax. Take a breath. And take the next step.

Song of Jealousy

2005-10-13T23:05:00.000-04:00




She blushes
As her hidden beauty shows itself
For a brief moment

A breath of resentment fills my body
She’s better than you
          It tells me
She’s better

Suddenly, the feeling of
          The spotlight’s warmth
                     Disappears

                             Accept it
          The breath tells me
Accept it

Resigning to the darkness
Chills consume my body
And sadness takes my mind


     I’m jealous



    . . . . She’s more than amazing
She deserves it
More than I

Slowly,
My mind fills with excuses in defense
And all you see is me

Raw
Shivering
    In the Spotlight

Update (part duex)

2005-09-15T18:01:00.000-04:00

umm, who fixed it? OH, I think I did!

Update

2005-09-15T00:15:00.000-04:00

Here's a plus: I found out how to do indenting on blogs. MY POEMS ARE SAVED! Now. . . Here's the minus: stupid thing makes the print real small. I WILL CONQUER YOU BLOGGER! I will. ::squints eyes like Clint Eastwood::

My Wall

2005-09-14T23:43:00.000-04:00




Tall 
Broad, and wide 
It stands erect for the attacks

Letting it’s shape be known 
It surrounds me and I feel safe
                                Secure
                Nothing can get past my bricks

Day by Day 
By Day by
Day 

It absorbs the surroundings,
The allies, the enemies.
Defending.
Helping.

It’s bricks begin wear down-
But I assume that it will stand strong 
 I ignore the chips and let my feelings of security carry on



But eventually all things turn to rubble 


In the dark of night, when
No one is looking,
I count the chips, each scratch in it‘s place.
It’s then that I realize my bricks have fallen.
And it’s then that I realize
all that’s left
   Are my pebbles of guilt.

An attempt to put summer in writen form

2005-08-23T14:17:00.000-04:00

God. summer. where has it gone? One minute it's June 15th and your ready for a fresh start and the next minute its August 22nd and your rubbin your neck from the wiplash that summer gave you.
Summer was fucking amazing this year. It first started with the graduation parties and taking in every single moment with the seniors. Suddenly you feel that same wiplash. One second they're at their house where you can always call them EVEN THOUGH you probably wont, and then the next second they're literally AT COLLEGE and you missed that last goodbye. A small part of me is still sulking in the corner, whining for more time with those great kids; but a HUGE part of me is so excited for them and their new chapter in their lives. Not to mention I am going to see these kids again because i really feel beyond connected with them, so from now on i am converting all my 'goodbye''s to 'cya later''s.
Next mile stone was Creation, the most rejuvinating, original, spiritual, inspirational, freeing and FUN experience i've ever had in my LIFE. God i miss the tent, the dirt linse, the concerts, the walking, the food, and the jokes. I long to have one last "awkward bus cheer" with all of us together. But a las a lack I will just have to wait till next year. . .or maybe the next burn party. I think all the kids know how freaking amazing that experience was and that words can not even embody how great it was. so i will end this paragraph with one phrase "Phill Friggin' Keaggy" . . . nuff said.
After maybe a weeks rest from jesus camp, i went to goucher. Ugh, Goucher, I LOVE YOU! There will never be another place like goucher. People can try and recreate the relationships, the jokes, and the learning but that's all they can do, TRY. One thing that seperates goucher from anything was it included my first love, dance. I was challenged and i saw myself improve greatly from both amazing teachers and great friends. OH THE FRIENDS! i felt so comfertable, understood, and loved from those people and i will always carry them and that feeling of completness with me whereever i go. They touched me, and not in a nasty , "CRAZY" way, which includes the phrase "sexy beast" but in the most original and creative way that friends can.
After a week of me rubbing my muscels and trying not to move a lot, my next mile stone was DeSales. Oh DeSales. This camp lies in a special place in my heart. It was here where i saw my improvement be inforced and embellished with personality. Suddenly i was catching my mistakes and correcting them, not to mention picking up combinations more quickly, and not worrying about messing up. This was not only because i was confident but i was beyond supported by the great people at DeSales. We roughed through so much together. Whether it was a death of a family member or the drunk beer pong playing, shakespeare people; we stuck together and became a group of crazy dancers who didnt care what the world thought of us. DeSales will forever be remembered as the place of flies, asians, and friends for life.
After DeSales I mubeled around for a weekend and then went to possibly the dorkiest but awesome camp imaginable. Yes, im talking about Kayak Camp. So i was 17 and the age range was from 12-16. I DIDNT CARE! cause i was there with, cody, rayen, steven, eian, andrew(who looked oddly like zac braff), my girl jayne, and the two coolest kayak instructers on the face of the planet: joe and jeff. It was with these people that i was challenged in a beyond fun way. Part of me was like 'CAROLINA don't look like a wimp! carry those kayaks' or 'PADDLE BITCH PADDLE' and part of me was like 'YAY CAMP WITH YOUNGIN'S i love it!' so it was an odd mix of muscels and playin' hit the car with the plum that mom packed.
Since then I have been chartering between the beach house and my various friends. Whether at birthday parties for camp friends where i only know one person (PARKIE) and leaving with 15 new friends, having an INTENSLY stereotypical sleepover with hannah, ellie, heather, and kels, or just a one on one silliness and a movie, not to mention DRIVES, with simone. Even though i know the school year is riding up my tail, i am still living my days as though i have a month left of summer. So please, no one pinch me because i dont want to wake up and find myself sitting with the giblinator going over y = mx + b for the 43rd time.

Summer, you friggin' ROCK!

and we're done

Lingering

2005-07-25T23:12:00.000-04:00




Listening to your song 
I drift into my dream 

Being held by your arms
Being wooed by your charms 
And hearing you whisper 
   Once again 

If only I could walk those 56 miles 
To feel your presence 
And absorb your warmth 

Leave the memories of our past 
Only to create a present 
Together 
With you

Why was it that
Time was measured by a sporadic clock of
Long and short tics?
Only to create a ending of sudden stops 

Was it only yesterday?
you kissed my lips
And my world melted

Was it only yesterday?
We joked of stupid sayings
And laughed till it hurt to smile 

When the end came so abruptly 
All I could say was goodbye 
When secretly I wanted to linger
One last time 

In your arms
In your breath 
In your heart

Not just some lame jesus camp

2005-07-05T14:32:00.000-04:00

As I stare at my green Creation band that lies on my desk I wonder “can I ever get it back?” Its been a full 4 days since I’ve left Creation and I just took off the band which let me enter such an amazing place. Everything about it was so glorious. Somewhere between the lights, the music, the jokes, the heat, the smoothies and the spigot you realize that this is more than just some lame Jesus camp.
I try to explain to others the magnitude of such an experience. I try to give a taste of the music, share some of the jokes, and breakdown each and every amazing moment I had at Creation but it never works out. It’s as if I was standing at the edge of an infinite abyss and trying to give an estimate on how deep it was. You just can’t.
At first I thought that it was gonna be weird and I’m not gonna lie, first band, I thought “what have I gotten myself into?” but then Relient K and Switchfoot came and the lookof amazement struck my face. “I could do anything now” I thought for the high of Christian Rock pulsated through my veins. Soon the concert ended and the magic trickled away. “NO” I thought, “I want more.” Little did I know that Ellie, the bringer of all things good, had other plans in store.
Ellie opened me like a kid opening a present on Christmas day. Not only did she take me to Creation in the first place but she took me to Starfield. And it was here where I opened myself completely. In this yellow tent of worshipers I found myself, once again, worrying what people were gonna think about me if I raised my hands or sang along to songs I’d never heard. But I took a breath and looked around and there was Ellie smiling that gosh darn giddy smile of hers and I realized that Creation wasn’t about what others thought. It was about something totally bigger than you, something that though you’ve never seen it or touched it, you pay tribute to it and somehow out of all the craziness in the world: the love, the war, the wack-os and the dulls; you find yourself at Creation in a happy medium where everything makes total sense. And it clicked when I went to Starfield, it clicked when I sang “revolution“ and “all for you.” Yea, I was singing to god and that’s something that I don’t really do a lot. But it was ok because I was comfortable in this yellow tent because I felt bonded and united with everyone. I wasn’t one lonely person trudging through life, I was a part of a group and we had presence and love and that’s something that society can‘t destroy.
The next 3 days were spent in an amazing oasis of inside jokes, moments, praying, singing, dancing, and being free. Not one part of me was tied back by homework or college or boys; I was completely free. I was bounding around Mt. Union with 3 amazing people; one of them I knew quite well and the other two were complete strangers. I found myself happier than ever with these strangers and I treasured every moment with them. Why else would I write all our inside jokes down and post them on my Xanga.
But eventually the 4 days of concerts ended. And the jokes and the laughing and the singing had to stop. I will never forget what happened there whether it’s a joke or a revelation. Creation changed me and I’m not gonna lie, I’m proud of it. I know that people expected me to come back changed into some kind of Jesus freak. And yes I am a bit more religious now, but there is no doubt in my mind that more than just my beliefs changed at Creation. And for that I am eternally grateful to Ellie, to M.J., to Jeff, to Caitlin, to Chris, to Matt, to the bands, to the speakers, to Creation, and to God.

Thank you.

>>>Creation '05

2005-06-21T23:46:00.000-04:00

my creative juices are low . . .

. . . sad day

My Untouchable Void

2005-06-10T17:18:00.000-04:00




Empty, 
I sit at my desk 
Staring at the
Blank page

I long to be like the others
Producing, 
Expressing. 

My opinions beg to be shared
But the abyss grows 
As I keep time with my pencil
One tap at a time

Tears leak from my eyes 
as its overwhelming hollowness
Consumes me

I call 
But they wont come
I reach 
But they’re too far

So I’m left alone 

Stretching,
Towards my untouchable 
     Void

10,000 Miles

2005-06-05T22:43:00.000-04:00

10,000 miles
by Mary Chapin Carpenter

Fare thee well
My own true love
Farewell for a while
Im going away
But Ill be back
Though I go 10,000 miles

10,000 miles
My own true love
10,000 miles or more
The rocks may melt
And the seas may burn
If I should not return

Oh dont you see
That lonesome dove
Sitting on an ivy tree
Shes weeping for
Her own true love
As I shall weep for mine

Oh come ye back
My own true love
And stay a while with me
If I had a friend
All on this earth
Youve been a friend to me

To Have You

2005-06-02T22:20:00.000-04:00



I went in with 
Confusion
    and passion 

But I spoke
And you listened 
I cared 
    and you soothed

We conversed 
As I described 
   where I went wrong

"it’s ok"
   You assure
   Easing my uncertainty
 with your blanket of words

   Immediately, 
 I absorb your warmth 
  As the layers surround
Enveloping my soul


How lucky I am
to have your truth
How I lucky I must be 


To have you

Unwanted Pain

2005-05-31T22:40:00.000-04:00



Choking
I gasp for air 

In your presence it kicks
But in your absence it moans 

I feel it
         wherever
          whenever

It stings
And burns 
But I persist through the hurt

It slowly kills
Dominating my insides
Consuming my core 

I can’t breath

I want this beautiful malice
But-- it digs
slowly at my gut
Chunk churning chunk churning 
              Chunk 

Why must it subside in my system?
This disease
This cancer

This
Unwanted pain

The Bobble Head Doll Story

2005-05-28T22:00:00.000-04:00

Her day was hell. Tired, Carolina walked home, thankful that she didn’t have to endure one more second of Mrs. Rock’s English class. Lately, Carolina hated English. Mrs. Rock was tired from grading papers, so she was in a bad mood. Today she was particularly annoyed. She had given a pop quiz and Carolina knew before she took it that she would fail. It wasn’t enough that English was her hardest class but now, she had an F looming over her. Deciding to ignore the quiz, she went about her as usual, hoping that a good night sleep would get her mind off things.
The next morning, Carolina opened her eyes groggily to find herself not in her room. She went to move her legs but they were stuck together then her arms but they were buckled in muscular position. Carolina began to panic. The room looked strangely familiar and yet she couldn’t put her finger on where she was. Confused, she looked around the room her head bouncing as it turned. “it couldn’t be” she thought “this looks exactly like. . . My English room.” The clown hung, watching from its former guard tower and the posters of Shakespeare were illuminated by the same florescent light. “Yes, it was the headquarters of Mrs. Rock.”
Suddenly, she heard the doorknob creak and Carolina stiffened. Mrs. Rock slowly entered the room, acknowledging each item as a mother to her children. “First period!” thought Carolina, “11th grade!” Carolina went to wiped the sweat from her head but was quickly reminded that she was locked, frozen, in a plastic position.
The Class gradually filed in, each wondering if Mrs. Rock would be in a cheerier mood opposed to the previous class. Carolina questioned why they didn’t see her. “I’m sitting on her desk.” she thought, “how can they NOT see me?”
“Alright guys, we’re discussing Metamorphosis. Girls versus boys.” announced Mrs. Rock.
The room quickly bustled with whispers and sexual sighs. Then, Mrs. Rock started towards Carolina, getting larger at every step. “Oh no” worried Carolina, “What’s she gonna do?” And at that moment, Mrs. Rock raised her hand and bounced it several times on Carolina’s head. Soon her head began to nod up and down; and at that moment she knew, she was Mrs. Rock’s “The Rock” bobble head doll.

----------------------------

so I wrote this story for English. Mrs. Rock gave me a B+ with the comment "You are indeed an odd one"

Heaven . . .

2005-05-24T17:05:00.000-04:00



Stop
Think
      Confusion 

Can I read what’s
Inside?

I dig at the dirt 
But only to find 
Another layer

Do I proceed?
Can I proceed?

I hesitate at the ambiguity 
Frightened of what
might
be there

I long to know
But fear to find out 

Still,
I press on-
Feeling through the dark 
At the agitated bumps

It itches
Scratches 
Chafes

And I realize

My ignorance 
         Was heaven

Digested Arrogance

2005-05-18T21:54:00.000-04:00



Proud 
I Stand over
My sink of compliments

I smile at
The frothy, boiling
vat
Content with my greatness

One by One
I gather my elements of boast 
Looking over 
Every one with care

“wonderful”

I stare at all the facts 
Laid in their specific piles 

Boil 
To simmer
To nothing 

I grab at each of my 
Compliments 
But they melt
       Away

I realize

My superiority 
Evaporated

What it's become

2005-05-18T21:30:00.000-04:00

So basically my blog has turned into this creative little corner AKA my poetry booklet. And you know what?
i love it!

In Search of Time

2005-05-17T23:43:00.000-04:00



Organized
Blocks of time
Each filled with 
A measured amount.

Block 5
Block 6
Block 7
Block 8

Each packed
With its Maps
And ‘To Do Lists’

Tired,
I see the end
But it’s not 
     Close enough

I ache for time
Reaching toward a break 
In the rush  

But I can’t

Pause 
Breath 
Next step

A Poem

2005-05-09T23:16:00.000-04:00

Standing aside
I can’t help but cry
Caught up in your sadness

I see you lost
In agony

I want to help

As Your wall
Your aid
Your friend

I long to release you
From your hurt
Your pain

I reach to support
But you turn away

There’s nothing I can do
Nothing I can say

All I can do
Is let you know

I am here.

loss

2005-05-05T22:06:00.000-04:00

loss, that’s one word that nails what the past two weeks have felt like.

It all started with players. as u all know i am a devout player through and through. whether it be set or acting i am always there to have a presence because players is my home and family and u can never replace that.
In the beginning i didn’t like the play. i never got much stage time, or so i thought, and i had no lines. then i came to set. "who fucking cares about lines!" i would think "you have set" me, ellie, hannah, and heather would get our act together and stroll down to the rec every Monday, Wednesday and Saturday to show the boys that we weren’t girly (even though me and heather both knew we were men since the start of chambers. . cough).
After my introduction to set i sat back and watched myself grow. WHO KNEW i could climb the scaffolding and hang a curtain and WHO KNEW that i could lift up and move a platform, i didn’t. Suddenly i was Set Girl In Training taking on heathers spot after she leaves. And as S.G.I.T. became well known so did the beast crew of me ellie and Hannah. i finally knew what a screw was and i finally knew what to do on at strike after the play was over. it was awesome. not only was i bonding even more with my players family i was growing in a way i never knew i could.
Then as play came together and i realized that i actually had a decent role. first there was the additional stage time as well as the awesome costume that i loved and will miss. "THIS PLAY IS GOING TO BE AWESOME" i would think. and i was right.
Opening night came and there was a serenity to the green room. for some reason we were all somber and not as excited as we were for other shows. i almost missed it. but then as the cast gathered to listen to Coach, Blenum, Smith, and VR's speeches i thought "im ok with this" it was ok to be ready to go on stage (even though some of us didn’t feel that way and was always up for perfecting their character . . .hal).
Opening night was a breeze as was Friday. It went by slow but at the same time in an instant. I cherished ever moment of hell week and the performance nights. i even felt accepted at the board sleepover. it was winding down in such a beautiful way.
And then came Saturday. It was raining and I remember listening to Blenum’s speech, recounting all her plays that she had done with the seniors. I almost got teary but then I thought “im not gonna cry, I never cry” but then came VR’s speech and a balled. All of a sudden I realized that these beautiful people that I had idealized and loved are leaving. For awhile I was ignorant to this fact, thinking that this time would never come. But the time was here and I was ready to confront it and I just cried, hugging ever person I could find but making sure not to destroy mr Vr’s make up masterpiece on my face.
The show was a blast. Or as steve-o would say “WE FUCKING BEASTED IT.” and he was right we were amazing. The cast party came and It was awesome. Once again I sat there in awe of my family. Having joe, steve and especially mike get their pins. I just sat there proud that I knew them, proud that I was in their presence. And then sitting there and watching tilman, mads, jeff and heather get roses. It was just awe-inspiring.
Then came the funnies. I had finally gotten what I dreamed of “the big mac” award. Ok so I wasn’t planning on me getting it this year but finally I was recognized for my “pimpett”-ness. This was fallowed by the awesome cast party. I got to spend some last fun moments with my seniors buds. . .ok so I had to leave early and most of my time was stuck talking to poor drunk jon but that’s ok. I had fun anyway.
Then came Sunday strike. I was ok for the first few hours. I was happy and over the whole idea that they were leaving. I had my cry and I was ok now. But then the seniors lined up to get hugs and I went to heather and Madeline and I cried. My idols, my best friends, my loves are leaving and I might not see them for but a brief moment in the future. I’m not sure if they know this now but they should. Heather, Madeline, ever since I was in 7th grade I have looked up to u and though it doesn’t seem that way. I have wanted to be as dazzling as u guys are in players. I love you.
Madeline I will never forget u . . . and ur fake boobs. whether as alice in wonderland, a dancer in a red dress, or just as my amazing friend; You have always been there for me. I don’t know how I would have done this year without you and I love you for it.
Heather. . . What can I say. Your like my big sister. Your performance as joan amazed me as well as others showing us that u can step out of that realm of heather and become someone else. So I kick you . . . and I love you more than chocolate, I love you more than cheese, and I love you more than that rock over there. And heather don’t tell gabe but I LOVE YOU MORE THAN GABE! I will always remember you and always love you
And its not only these two girls its mike who has always been my bud and best friend. Who I can always rock out and pop a lock with. Its Greg who I can sit back in awe of his popage lockage and set-ness. Its Jeff with his amazing acting and hilarious Harry potter loving self. Its Tillman who is FUCKING AMAZING on lights, set, and stage especially with his booming voice as the inquisitor! Its joe who I will always hit yet idealize as an acter, steve who will always be “classic“, its doris who is my lover and will always be my BRICKED UP WINDOW, OPEN WINDOW. . . Its jon who it will always be akward but hot. its wyn, monty, danny, brian, hal, clags, mary, and jonny z. ITS ALSO NOT ONLY THE PLAYERS its kelsey whos a strong part of my life and the pit O WAIT the pit is my life . . . thats not a butt. and its maggie whos will always care and annie who will always be amazingly nice no matter what. and its lucy the amazing assembly board leader, and its andy, and pete, and gabe ATOWN! and its chrissy, and it anna, and GOSH IF I FORGET ANYONE IM SO SORRY! they all have affected me in some way and I love them for it.
so I left the rec feeling such a huge loss. And now I (as well as gabe) go around the school moping. We walk down the hall or in the library thinking “its so empty” if only I could spend the rest of my life with these beautiful people. Because you all inspire me 100% and I love you all.
So as you can see in these past 2 weeks I have felt nothing but loss. It ok eventually ill come to terms with the lack of players and seniors and be the emblem for other un shore juniors along the way but now I have to walk those final steps of the process and become what iv always wanted to be like. The seniors.

emotional right now

2005-04-24T21:36:00.000-04:00

You leave
And I turn in the darkness
Leaking droplets of salt

I want you to want me
I want what we could have
I want that
connection

We click
We combine
And make something
Strong
Warm
Alive

You leave
And I long to embrace
Grabbing at lost time

We could have something
Vibrant

And yet

We can’t
We wont

And I’m left
Alone
In the darkness

YES!

2005-04-21T00:11:00.000-04:00

HIP HOP CLUB = FREAKING AWESOME. WE ROCKED IT LIKE NON OTHER!

so holler to . . .
mike who grew like non other from the first hh club rehersal till now
greg who still rocks my socks with his amazing moves
kalila who is going to be my next heather buddy lol
and my otro mastermind and amazing choreographer/ AMAZING DANCER . . .laurice

LOVE U GUYS
WE POPED THEIR LOCKS like a mofo in a trashcan!

P-Rom FINAL!

2005-04-17T13:10:00.000-04:00

Prom Checklist

Date. . . CHECK
Dress . . . CHECK
Shoes . . . CHECK
Nails . . . CHECK
Braces . . . o wait? NO CHECK

Getting sick 2 days before prom? . . . wait AWWW. . . CHECK

Prama . . . CHECK
Limo complete with new york driver . . . CHECK
Friends galor . . . CHECK

AN AWESOME TIME AT BOB'S, PROM, AND GABE'S . . . . DEFINATE CHECK!

I'm feeling the L-O-V-E

2005-04-15T23:54:00.000-04:00

hey guys its random and late but i feel like i should tell you guys this.

I Love You.

and this is no mushy, lame, jokie, so-so LOVE YOU. this is the real deal. in the past few days i have felt nothing but love from everyone i walk by. even some ppl who i dont get along with have complimented me. its totally awesome and refreshing to know that you count and are loved.

so thank you tillman, thank you gabe, thank you PIT (kelsey and heather), thank you ellie, thank you hannah and carolina too, thank you anna, thank you greg, thank you mike, thank you jon, thank you annie, thank you maggie, thank you madaline, thank you basically to all seniors lol, thank you mom, casey, dad, and the rest of the family, thank you teachers, god so many just made me feel loved today and well i dont have enough room let a lone time to write all the ppl. so thanks guys.

I Love You Too!

PS. to all those i thanked your getting a dance with the top popper of locks at prom aka THE LINANATOR!

P-Rom 3

2005-04-14T12:07:00.000-04:00

Prom Checklist

Date. . . CHECK
Dress . . . CHECK
Shoes . . . CHECK
Nails . . . half a check
Braces . . . o wait? NO CHECK

Getting sick 2 days before prom? . . . wait AWWW. . . CHECK

a story that should be spread throughout the world

2005-04-10T23:58:00.000-04:00

Once upon a time there was a goat named billy. Billy had a good life he got good grades and had lots of friends but one thing he didn’t have was a date to the prom. Billy was sad. He had liked this hippo named Hannah but he was always shy and always developed a burping disorder whenever she was around. But one day he got the nerve to ask Hannah to prom. Hannah was ecstatic. She had liked billy since she saw his interpretive dance at the cabaret and was beyond willing to go. “sure” Hannah agreed and the date was set. The night was going to be magical. They arrived in their stretch limo looking fantabulous and ready to have a good night. BUT THEN as they walked through the doors billy realized that he couldn’t dance. Billy was so nervous that he began to sweat like a dog. Hannah noticed and asked billy if was ok. “im fine” billy croaked but he knew that the night was going to be a disaster. Eventually everyone arrived and the dance started. “COME ON” urged Hannah “its get low, my favorite song”. Billy didn’t know what to do so he got up and headed to the dance floor, hoping that amazing dancing abilities would come to him as he walked . . . but nothing came, and billy danced. In the end he ended up scaring everyone at prom including Hannah the hippo who dumped him, all his friends shunned him and his parents ended up disowning him.

The obvious moral of the story is to not be like billy but to know how to dance before u go to any special occasions ESPECIALLY prom. So come to hip hop club.

THANK YOU ::takes a bow::

An Entertainer's Life

2005-03-31T00:46:00.000-05:00

Ugh what have I become? I go online, check my Xanga for comments, check my Blog for comments, check my friend's Blogs and Xangas to see if they updated. That’s maybe 15 minutes to an hour (depending on what I read) wasted. Then I go off, do other things; talk online, read, eat. I do all this until I decide to go back online. To do what? check Xangas and check Blogs.

I’ve become a junkie, an internet journal junkie. Its sad that the first thing I click when I go to sit at the computer is my browser for my Xanga site. What am I going to see? "Lets see if anyone commented" I think. COMMENTED! Carolina you checked 45 minutes ago! How could someone possibly have commented. It’s sad. It really is sad. I should really stop. I just wait to see peoples reactions, their praise. I shouldn‘t need this. I should be doing it, to do it, for me, not for other people. . .

But at the same time I have an excuse or rather, not an excuse but a passion. I am an entertainer. Those of you in Springside know; I yearn for my Monday morning spotlight to make people laugh. It used to be because I wanted people to come to the club, but now its become something more. Something that I want to do for fun. I want to make them laugh, make them happy.

This isn’t a bad thing. I think this is just something that I have come to realize. I guess I felt that I should write it, maybe post it on my Blog, try to impact someone. Knowing me I will check my Blog even more, just to see your reaction. It’s sad, the life of a performer, always doing for others. But in one instance it’s worth it, a little slice of heaven here on earth; all because you made them laugh, or cry, or. . think. You impacted them and that’s when suddenly that life, that sad life of show becomes a Broadway production. You have succeeded in effecting. And in the end you did it. You did it for them. You did it for you.

family

2005-03-28T00:05:00.000-05:00

bonding with the family can sometimes be annoying and u think "god when am i going back to school" but then there are times where ur just like "wow my family's awesome"

im in arizona and im rocking it with my family. there are points where i want to kill them but there are some deffinite good times; and for that i love them.

take that risk!

2005-03-22T17:46:00.000-05:00

if its what you want to do? DO IT! As eleanor roosevelt said "do one thing everyday that scares you."

SHE SPEEKS THE TRUTH! its something to live by. i understand that people can be shy, but if you dont move from square one how are you ever going to get to square ten? im writing this hopfully to inspire some of you. some of you are great people with amazing talents and personalities. but u back away. F%#* IT! dont be scared and dont worry. in the end everything will be fine. Even if this sceary thing is very little. one day you will be able to do something very big.

i kno for a fact because i used to be self concious and shy all the time. I KNOW! LINA? SHY? GOD read my middle school diary, its vile. BUT one day i decided to take a small risk and now im really not afraid as much. Dont be afraid of what might happen because if its something u truly want to do then good will ALWAYS come out of it.

you should all just have a session with my mom. god if i hear the college lecture one more time "carolina if the college that you want to go to doesnt accept u; then its not the college for you. you dont want to go to a college that doesnt want u there" its that kind of thinking that pulls me through things and help me take those "big leaps" everyday.

yes there are terratories that i have yet to venture in my life, bring it on. im ready. and its sad when i see people who arent ready. i want to help them realize that it will be alright. but i cant do it for them, its something they have to do for themselves. if you fail a test or paper is that really going to effect your life in the long run? no i dont think so. its that kind of thinking that i wanna help some of u realize.

i feel like im preaching but the world has SO MUCH to offer, if only you could step past your doorway.

i dont kno if this update will make a difference. but judging by the other blog entries i feel it was needed.

P-Rom 2

2005-03-20T17:50:00.000-05:00

PROM CHECK LIST

Date . . . . CHECK
Dress . . . . CHECK
Shoes . . . . CHECK

the PIT society

2005-03-17T22:47:00.000-05:00

So today im reading my usual blogs and i come to my last one. kelseys and she writes about the homework load WHICH i totally agree but heres part of wat she said:

"Or maybe all of the tecahers gather together after school and plan humungous loads of homework together just to see us suffer. Either way I think my worst project is by far my Gov project: Create the perfect society. Write a preamble and a constitution to your perfect society. Who does that? I mean honestly I'll just pull that out of my back pocket over the weekend!"

so i decided to post on blog and help her out.

"heres ur gov paper

PERFECT SOCIETY

name: THE PIT

laws:
-kelsey, heather, and lina are always the best.
-never go higher than middle C unless written in music.
-always eat cereal bars on the way down to SS after chambers
- always pop ur booty ESPECIALLY when either A) when u are imitating missy elliot or B) dancing to i like the way u move.
-must belt "hey" ESPECIALLY when u see each other or you have the option of saying PIT
-must be hot

preamble:
we the PIT in order to for a more perfect PIT estabish the PEOPLE IN TUNE and PITNITY. provide for the commen PIT. promote the gereal PIT and secure the blessings of the PIT and the diggers and dougherty. Do ordain and establish the laws up above for the PIT of LAURELI!

my god am i good"

that last bit. . . .its sooo right

masters recital

2005-03-16T23:11:00.000-05:00

MY GOD THE MASTERS RECITAL ROCKED! i hit my dance dead on and just as i was getting in place for my second dance i thought "GOD this is why i love to dance" it was deffinitly a moment. YAY FOR MOMENTS and YAY FOR DANCING

P-Rom

2005-03-15T23:29:00.000-05:00

Prom check list:

Date. . . . CHECK

the pain of dancing

2005-03-14T23:10:00.001-05:00

hmm ok so i was dancing tonight. deperatly trying to speed choreograph my dance for the masters recital and im all into it right? like i had just did the middle section all right, it fit with the music and EVERYTHING. and well u see theres this part where i melt down slowly and then with the drums i slice my arms up sharply. only i was so into it that i hit my hand on the stupid trunk thing in the room. now ur thinking carolina why in the world are you dancing in a room with firnature in it. I CANT HELP IT! my butt parents wont let me move crap out of that room or any room for that matter and have it be a dance room. UGH those poos. oh well my hand still hurts like a mofo and i got an uber deep cut from slaming it so hard. im sure that if u were there ud laugh ur head off cause i like freaked out did a little jigg to the couch where i collapsed holding my hand then while crying obsenities i stumbled my way to the kitchen for a water bottle to place on my hand like ice. i wanted to cry but i was strong. lol.

the things i go through for dance.

the P word

2005-03-13T22:57:00.000-05:00

prom is awesome. prama is not or rather lack there of and getting interested in others prama. lol being dateless kinda sux but frankly it doesnt matter to me, er, at least . . . i dont think so. its more about the dancing for me. iv been boyless for awhile. this is nothing new. the idea of going with someone would be kinda cool but knowing me and my usual situations ill be going with a friend WHICH IS NOT BAD. but u see the guys are like I LIKE YOU. . .AS A FRIEND. and im like GOSH DARN U! he he SILLY BOYS lol and i love my guys no matter wat even if theyre just my friends.

tomarrow

2005-03-10T21:22:00.000-05:00

"so guess what tomarrow is" i say to tillman as he plays a random arcade game. "umm its friday" "i KNOW!" This weeks been kinda long with some bonus points throughout but this friday is desperatly needed. Somewhere between the math tests, random intense homework assignments, double DRob periods and the freezing cold winds you think "god the weekend needs to come right now" im going to a play friday and then rocking out in NYC for some college hunting. ill be doing that AND hopfully still have time to choreograph my piece for the masters recital, go to players AND write an essay for rock. at least i dont have SATs. so thank you friday for being the end of the week and for finally getting here.

Friday, you rock.

good days

2005-03-09T16:55:00.000-05:00

God today was a good day. just a genuinly good day. i was happy. friends with everyone. ok so there was a little dispute in 3rd period but that didnt stop me from having a good day. i bonded with my girls that i love so much aka THE PIT OH and jeff lol and they put me in a great mood much better a mood than mrs fournier would ever put me in. anyway yay for good days yay for friends and yay for life. i have to cherish this day because they come so rare in my life so SCORE!

I LOVE LIFE!

hmm i think it was 5

2005-03-06T22:09:00.000-05:00

uh wait guys how many trophies did we win?
i
i think it was 5
yea around 4 or 5
wait lets count them 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
yea 5

WE ROCK

"its a pangia if you will. . . .oy with the poodles already"

"so there were these two muffins. . ."

"gosh darn you seatbelt sign"

ugh soo many more quotes just ask me

FLORIDA HOOOOO

2005-03-02T20:03:00.000-05:00

im going to DISNEY WORLD
ok ok
so im not going to disney world but i always like saying that. RIGHT well in aproxamitly 8 hours we will be leaving from CHA to the airport to go to FLORIDA. 4 awesome days with the pit and the rest of chambers GOD I CANT WAIT. its gonna rock like a headbanger in an earthquake . . . . exactly. YA CHAMBERS LETS WIN IT!

Dance Off

2005-03-02T00:43:00.000-05:00

on terms of dancing

Greg Carson oorrrrr ME

Greg Carson or Me

Greg . . . Me

GREG . . . .MEEE

hmmm
ill let u guys decide that one

the coolest

2005-02-28T19:51:00.000-05:00

you kno what are the coolest?
Snow days

yea

theyre the coolest

winter ball . . .

2005-02-27T14:41:00.000-05:00

ROCKED!
for the first time in my high school cereer the winter ball ROCKED
and for this i would like to thank

all seniors!

2005-02-24T19:17:00.000-05:00

heavey snow jacket . . . . 35$

Plasma TV at school . . . . . free for me but 2560$ for school

finding out you get to go home early cause the bus doesnt want to drive on the "bad roads"
AND
getting no homework . . . . . priceles

2005-02-23T21:48:00.000-05:00

i didnt really feel like dancing cause i was tired but then i did and it rocked and i rocked and well . . . yea it was awesome.

yay for feeling better AKA energized

BOO for everyone else being sick . . . . DID I GIVE IT TO EVERYONE? i prolly gave it to the PIT im sorry guys i love u

the story of my life

2005-02-21T23:04:00.000-05:00

myyyyyyyyyy

bologna has a first name its O S C A R
my bologna has a sec ond name its

M A Y E R

ooooooooo
i like to eat it every day

and if they ask me i would
SAAAAYYY AAAAAAAAAYYYY AAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYY

oscar mayer has a way with
B
O
L
O
G
N
A

::takes a bow::
thank you

AHH THE BOREDUM

2005-02-19T17:02:00.000-05:00

CALL ME IM BORED!

215 850 1583

my coming of age film

2005-02-16T20:28:00.000-05:00

life can be such a shit hole.

its like all those COMING OF AGE movies.

I. . . i feel like im in one. in a scary coming of age film. right in the middle of the climax too. that point where she knows that she has to be an adult but wants to be a kid still. she wants to do it herself but needs help and to be told what to do. its one fucking scary movie my friend, and im stuck in it. with its bad cliche plot and lines. "YOU DONT UNDERSTAND ME" "I FEEL SO ALONE" god when the words come out of your mouth. you sit there and you're like . . .
"shit, theyre all right."

its annoying too. when theyre right. cause you want it to be special like youre the only one whos going through this. like no one understands how you feel. but im sure that almost every teenager is going through about the same kind of thing i am.

there should be a support group. a vent group. a place where we could go and share our ideas and be like.
"GOD. LIFES A BUTT."
a place to work things out. see clearly as to what the next step is.

there should be a handbook. to life, i mean. ugh now that would be great. all the answers in a 267 page paperback book. you would come to a situation in life and say "oh god i dont kno how to deal with this. what page is peer pressure on?" . . . now that would be nice.

HECK. if theres a handbook. you should just have a personal trainer. a life trainer, to help you with everything and anything. if you've got a question your LT will have an answer.

ahh yes but all these are dreams. and part of life is the journey . so strap on your boots and prepare to get muddy
cause its life
and its gonna get messy.

ow. . . .YAY

2005-02-13T21:45:00.000-05:00

ouch im sore . . .

but the pain is so worth it.

dancing 10 hours a day this weekend

ugh
amazing

i love dancing

THE MOST INTENSE BLOG UPDATE YOU WILL EVER READ IN YOUR KNOWN LIFE. ITS SAD, EARTH SHATTERING, AND BEAUTIFUL. AFTER U READ IT U WILL CRY!

2005-02-10T23:11:00.000-05:00

damn was i funny today

. . . .night!

my mom.....he he

2005-02-09T20:41:00.000-05:00

my silly mom and her hidden sexual jokes. shes so great and i love her so much.

ok ok heres some examples.

i just woke up after bein at the heathers the night before and, of course, my mom wants to kno all the gossip and how was it and everything. so what does she say? "so carolina, whos doing who?" . . . i just sat there as she freaked out saying "I DIDNT MEAN IT LIKE THAT! IT CAME OUT WRONG!". TOO FUNNY! another time was when i got home from dance and i was talking about how i always pick long monologues and that are hard to memorize. so my mom says "yup thats my lina she likes em LONG AND HARD". . . "MOM?!" "what?. . . O GOD! NO I DIDNT MEAN TO!"

this is who i live with and i love it.

the spoon story

2005-02-08T19:50:00.000-05:00

you see the other day my mom was makin bownies and i was like "mom i call licking the bowl". so later im upstairs doin homework when suddenly my mom comes up with a bowl in one hand and the mixer in the other. i imidiatly start to lick the mixer but as soon as i got to the bowl i realized that u cant lick the bowl with a mixer (now u guys gotta keep in mind that i dont mean literally LICKING THE BOWL i mean eating the rest out with a spoon) 'i need a spoon.' i cried. " AW MAN im gonna have to go downsrairs." but then i thought to myself "wait carolina didnt you have yogert before u went to dance? and didnt u place the spoon u used in ur jacket pocket?" so i reached inside my pocket to find non other than THE SPOON. it made my day. the power of pulling that spoon out of my pocket and automaticlly diving it into the brownie mix. UGH SO AMAZING!

its the little things in life

:( the sequal

2005-02-07T00:42:00.000-05:00

::looks at xanga::

yea that pretty much sums it up

:(

2005-02-06T13:10:00.000-05:00

sometimes u just need some feel good music . . . .

I am a mountain.
I am a tall tree.
Oh I am a swif wind sweeping the country.
I am river down in the valley.
Oh I am a vision, I can see clearly.
If any one asks you who I am just stand up tall look them in the face and say..

I’m that star up in the sky
I’m that moutain deep up high.
Hey you made it
I’m the worlds greatest*m
I’m that little bit of hope in my backs against the rope I can feel it, mm
I’m the worlds greatest.

I am a giant.
I am a egale.
Oh I am a lion down in the jungle
I am a marching band
I am the people
I am heavin’ head
I am a hero
If any one asks you who I am just stand up tall look them in the face and say..

I’m that star up in the sky
I’m that moutain deep up high.
Hey you made it
I’m the worlds greatest
I’m that little bit of hope in my backs against the rope I can feel it.
I’m the worlds greatest.

I’m that star up in the sky
I’m that moutain deep up high.
Hey you made it
I’m the worlds greatest
I’m that little bit of hope in my backs against the rope I can feel it.
I’m the worlds greatest.

Ohh
I’m that star up in the sky
I’m that moutain deep up high.
Hey you made it
I’m the worlds greatest
I’m that little bit of hope in my backs against the rope I can feel it.
I’m the worlds greatest.

I’m that star up in the sky
I’m that moutain deep up high.
Hey you made it
I’m the worlds greatest
I’m that little bit of hope in my backs against the rope I can feel it.
I’m the worlds greatest.

now i feel better

umm yea this pretty much sums it up . . .

2005-02-06T04:14:00.000-05:00

GFS NIGHT= FUCKING AMAZING

me and meadies crazyness

2005-02-04T02:31:00.000-05:00

FubbyflamingoSPR: that was scarey
Sellotapequeen: ?
FubbyflamingoSPR: i was signing off
FubbyflamingoSPR: and then i was like
FubbyflamingoSPR: SHIT
FubbyflamingoSPR: MEADIE
FubbyflamingoSPR: noooooooooooooooooooooooooo
FubbyflamingoSPR: and i clicked that scarey butten
FubbyflamingoSPR: sign on again
FubbyflamingoSPR: it i was online
Sellotapequeen: Hahahahaha.
Sellotapequeen: I love you.
FubbyflamingoSPR: it was intense
Sellotapequeen: You're the best.
FubbyflamingoSPR: i kno im the best
FubbyflamingoSPR: but the question is
FubbyflamingoSPR: am i made of cheese
FubbyflamingoSPR: things to ponder
Sellotapequeen: Yes.
FubbyflamingoSPR: I AM
FubbyflamingoSPR: how can u tell
FubbyflamingoSPR: i was thinking
FubbyflamingoSPR: maybe i should put myself in a large MICROWAVE
FubbyflamingoSPR: for like 2 mins
FubbyflamingoSPR: to see if i would melt
Sellotapequeen: Yeah Cool!!!
FubbyflamingoSPR: now
FubbyflamingoSPR: do u have a large microwave
FubbyflamingoSPR: cause i kno i dont
FubbyflamingoSPR: i looked
Sellotapequeen: Umm ...
Sellotapequeen: It's in ...
Sellotapequeen: My room.
FubbyflamingoSPR: u mean over there
FubbyflamingoSPR: ??
Sellotapequeen: Yeah.
Sellotapequeen: It's called a closet.
FubbyflamingoSPR: no freaking way
FubbyflamingoSPR: dude that would be so cool if i could melt ur closet
FubbyflamingoSPR: and then u could put me in the freezer
FubbyflamingoSPR: and then ud like miss alittle bit of me
FubbyflamingoSPR: andppl would walk into ur closet and be like whats that orange thing over there
FubbyflamingoSPR: and ull be like
FubbyflamingoSPR: its part of lina
Sellotapequeen: YEsssss!!!!!!!!!
FubbyflamingoSPR: it would be QUITE COOL
FubbyflamingoSPR: and u could have a little part of me where ever i go
Sellotapequeen: Yey!!!
Sellotapequeen: I'm so excited now
FubbyflamingoSPR: lol
FubbyflamingoSPR: dude im comin down this weekend
FubbyflamingoSPR: itll be a party in ur closet
FubbyflamingoSPR: lol
FubbyflamingoSPR: wow this is going on the xanga
Sellotapequeen: HAHAHA
Sellotapequeen: For real.
FubbyflamingoSPR: so right now we should say hi to the ppl reading this on my future xanga update
FubbyflamingoSPR: HI GUYS ::waves::
Sellotapequeen: HEY!!!
Sellotapequeen: Can you handle this convo
Sellotapequeen: ?
Sellotapequeen: I think not.
FubbyflamingoSPR: i dont think they can
FubbyflamingoSPR: no
FubbyflamingoSPR: they cant
Sellotapequeen: No you can't ...
Sellotapequeen: Booyah
FubbyflamingoSPR: BOO YA
FubbyflamingoSPR: OWE OWE ::does "yey lina" dance::
Sellotapequeen: *joins in*
FubbyflamingoSPR: wow
FubbyflamingoSPR: that was awesome

dude we rock

a boring time

2005-02-03T12:35:00.000-05:00

weeeeee
im in the library (cause i cant be in petes room) attempting to do homework. . . . aka avoiding it at all coasts lol

yea
i have no idea why im posting but im bored so . . . .yea

um yay for no comments!

A WHOLE NEW WORLD

2005-02-02T22:53:00.000-05:00

well well well
look what we have here
a blog

im sure i wont be good with keeping this one up cause im fully dedicated to my xanga (www.xanga.com/lina3434) but hey well just see how it goes