Okay first ftp download failed because this computer doens't have on needed installation component.

Ohhkay. Next!

I'll take a bite out of filezilla and see how I like it. Unless one of you out there has a recommendation...? 44% and counting...

Work was pretty good, though I'm glad they didn't call me in earlier. They tried but my mom had a long distance call from someone and tied up the line. Later I tied up the line myself. hehe.

A kid looked up at me today and asked me if I was a nurse. I was wearing my new uniform for Halloween, my mad scientist lab coat. Had to smirk at that one, nope just a costume coordinator... I carefully explained that I worked there and forgave the rascal in the back of my mind for terrorizing the Halloween section which was hit up soooo bad. I really admire the imagination of the young. Sometimes I do miss childhood, as Glynn Hughes puts it 'Childhood is an exitement from simply being alive."

When I find out about something complex and perception changing it usually startles me throughout the day. Well this one followed me through the night and it's a lot like a medical insurance policy. Once you max out everything and you hit what's termed a 'catatrosphic' by having a certain amount of medical costs they pay everything off for you. It's like this really, the irony and confusion has long since admitted themselves and reached the top of the charts. I understand and feel it's different now and because I do both it doesn't sink a hole in my stomach.

It's just probing now. Filing through what I understand, running back through what's already there and adding the blanks of which I fill out.

It answers a lot of things but poses a few more but smaller questions.

97% and counting...

High Life

I really really like this song. I play it to death.




All my friends got flowers in their eyes
But I got none this season
All of the last ten years blooms have gone and died
Time doesn’t give a reason
Hey baby, do you ask yourself sometimes
What you need to be forgiven?
Everything that you’ve ever done wrong
Is the reason that I’m driven
Straight to you.

Waiting here for you
Wanting to tell you
How I get my ends and my beginnings mixed up too
Just the way you do
Thought if I told you
You might want to stay for just another day or two

Waiting for the trains that just never come
Beginning to believe in
The disappearing nature of the people we have been
We have begun to change into the worst kind of people
So unkind
Oh apologies, no apologies, this apology
Doesn’t describe the way it feels to feel for you

Waiting here for you
Waiting here for you
Wanting to tell you
How I find myself slowly disappearing too
Just the way you do
Thought if I told you
You might want to help me remain with you

I just wanna stay for a little while
I wanna stay a little while

There’s a night life falling down on me
I just feel like a change
Beneath the sun in the summer
a sea of flowers won’t bloom without the rain
But oh, this desert life, this high life
Here at the dying end of the day
I wasn’t made for this scene baby
But I was made in this scene
And baby it’s just my way
I don’t want to go home alone, I wanna come on home to you

Waiting here for you
Wanting to tell you
How I line my sky with all the silver I can use
Just the way you do
Thought if I told you
You might want to stay for just another day or two.

Counting Crows

Yum

Do I really have to go to work today? I'm in heaven.

Counting crows and chocolate. What better way to spend your day? It's wonderful.

So my new site isn't going according to planned. I signed up at bizhat.com. Thought it would be a neutral name like that which was ADVERTISED freewebhost.com. I got 50 megs (gimme more!) that I can do nothing with, because their controls are so non descript I can't even create a new page. I can view the contents, but can't add any.

So off to the forum I guess say hey I'm the newb WTH do I do here??


WHOAHHH DID I DO IT?

*hyperventilates*

I think I got it. It's uploading through publishing wizard. after the upteenth try. Okay nobody come home, please! I'm so close!

It's not official yet but check out http://palepaintedsky.bizhat.com/main.htm At least something should come up, even if it's just a blank page with an announcement from bizhat.

What kind of name is that any way? Bizhat?

Well whatever it is, it's working right?

Witness

Make me a witness
take me out
out of darkness
out of doubt.

I won’t weigh you down
with good intentions,
or make fire out of clay
or other inventions.

Will we burn
in Heaven?
Like we do
down here?
Will the change come
while we’re waiting?

Every one
is waiting...

And when we’re done
soul searching
and we carry the weight,
die for a cause...
Is misery made beautiful
right before our eyes?
Will mercy be revealed
or blind us where we stand?

Will we burn
in Heaven?
Like we do
down here?
Will the change come
while we’re waiting?

Every one
is waiting...

-Sarah McLachlan

Overthinking

Oblivious or ignorant. Hard to say.

You are given an honor when you are ignored. This is when you are noticed most. To successfully ignore you have to stalk the ignored. Figure where not to go, what not to do.

And do I even want to establish which? Truth doesn't have to settle. It forces itself in and asks nothing. People do with it what they will.

In the end blame won't matter. It solves nothing, completes nothing.

Good and evil? I've explored both spectrums of myself indefinitely. She is darkening. Anyone can see that from far away. I say this neutrally having fully explored my own darkness.

The difference is between my dark and her dark is, my blackest thoughts abolish human concepts and emotions. They mock them. It absorbs all but one feeling the adoration of nothingness, infinite night. Embraces destruction and weakness. And a strange indulgence when something is admitted into obilivion, shredded, discarded. Very focused on carnage of all palpable structure like an anarchy of the heart. I could so easily be mentally celibate had I not taken the choice to feel and actually allow larger emotions. I could rid myself of the need for positive emotion, or the abstract want/need for love (in it's variety of forms as it's definition is so large). I've done it once. Somehow a strip of compassion even lived through that. This was a different skin, and a different time, but definitely one that has formed me.

Hers is focused more on emotions to their fullest.

We take turns I guess.

It's a little different to see someone who was years back my example and life line out of that emptiness, the only one who would see closely enough to even begin to listen.

Thats the little thing that tugs at me.

EVIIIIIL

How any self respecting human being continues to live like this, I really don't know. Haaa. Can't even see my floor, dishes are scattered about, my carpet's plated with old clothes. I make a mad dash looking for shoes before work. I think I 've solved the problem though, I just keep my battered tennis shoes in the kitchen. Domestically challenged? Something like that.

Here's a few things to put on my record as a living breathing paradox. A few of the fine arts of the home don't appeal to me such as CLEANING and SEWING, but most people like to be clean I guess. Only outwardly in this display-case society. But don't get me started on the hypocrisy of man. I kind of cook, I can clean when it comes down to it, but I get by. I'll lend two helping hands around the house ,yet won't lift a finger in my room. Should probably get around to it.
I could sell this, it's like boot camp for OCD patients, spend two months or more with my brother and I. It would be quite the experience. With reality shows so tickled with odd habits and exposure of the abnormal, it would be hilarious.
I'm the proud owner of a super nintendo now. Laugh if you must, but this is victory. I've been looking for one for almost a year or two. THREE bucks roughly, thanks to employee discount, Graywhale it would be thirty - twenty bucks depending on the condition. That's crap. I bought the ac adapter for more than the system itself. I settled a bit over the $8 after I called 'AreUGAME' and they recommended looking into a FORTY DOLLAR CONVERTER. !@$%&#@ no way honey. Now I’m getting to another problem.

So here's something to keep me swearing in my sleep for a while. It's not fair to do this to the devoted. no no no no no. It's going to cause a flood sooner or later to keep me and other nerdish Zelda fans in check until 2006, since we've all been drooling at an inhuman rate since 2003 over those pretty screenshots. (I wish I had my old connection, the game testing genius I could use the inside info) I've been checking in on some sweet looking reviews and this 'un should be promising. I can't wait, theres going to be a variety of new control features, the storyline is ever darker, and the graphics... The Graphics! So life like!

hope I didn't freak you all out with my life long Zelda fixation. Just thought of something, you don't ward off vampires with garlic, raw fanaticism is much more effective. In fact raw anything is about enough. People don’t like what is unfiltered and base, most people can’t handle origins.

There is hope though. I haven't played every Zelda game, particularly the old school pixelated ones. I still got the oracles.

Okay self, do the math. You get up at what 8:00 tommorrow on your day off, and you're up and energized at 12 freaking 48 in the morning. Everything has it's price, even Insanity.

patience

I’ve been refraining from posting anything too significant lately, as it would attract the kind of attention I would not like to have. It’s been a little rough now and then and I’m becoming more and more ready to live on my own. To make it brief there’s been a few happenings here that call out loudly for me to leave. I sometimes feel like an alien in my own house. I care about different things that they would never even begin to consider. I can’t compromise myself as I have before... but the order of things here run differently. Whoever goes to the furthest extreme wins, whoever does the most damage. It’s a real load of crap. And the advice I get for this is to appease my mom, say nothing back. Do nothing and be walked all over...

I haven’t been feeling too well. I’m finding out some new fun things to worry about to make me feel like I’m sixty. I hate feeling frail.

I’m really enjoying work these days. The staff is very diverse, but even though we’re all our own people we all get along smoothly. It has a very warm atmosphere so I feel really lucky. I’ve heard people complaining about their bosses, but I can’t complain about mine. It’s nice here.


We just hired an Ethiopian someone whose name I’m still trying to retain. He’s quick to smile and very meek. His accent is one that I’m not familiar with, it’s soft and very focused on curved vowels. He struck off a deal between us, if I teach him English, he will teach me Arabic. Arabic! That’s not even his first language either. He’s very homesick but he must stay here for two more years because of a program he’s enrolled in. Personally I think modern American culture is cold, conformist, and too focused on material items. I would be home sick as well. I’m always asking him about Africa and what it’s like to walk on Ethiopian soils.

I hope to travel through other countries someday. Not just to vacation but to have more exposure to other cultures, interact with new peoples, and hear unknown languages. The farthest out I’ve been is in the ocean, waaay back when. I hope that it can be possible for me someday. That I can do more with it than dream about it from a distance.

Unwritten

I am so unheathily nocturnal. It's by choice these days or nights if you want me to be specific. I do get tired of having to be so politically correct, if speaking freely is so controversial. Ai yi yi.

I don't enjoy having my dreams shot down by the world, by reality, by what some would call fate. They aren't dead.

What I'm talking about isn't even recent, it's completely unwritten so far from where I stand.

I've got to go the way I've got to go. I'm a passionate person and I would be unhappy winding up with a bland occupation. I think I've just lost my hold on my dorm to a south weber girl who is driving my cousin up the wall.

Life unfolds itself each day, taking and then adding. I'm getting older. The grounds are shifting again and I'm almost comfortable with it if that's the word. Almost.

Changes send me off in streams of thought. We spend our whole lives trying to classify only to rearrange... It's an uncontrolled experiement with infinite varibles. It even boils down to the probability of a possiblity.

The roads are wide. I'm trailing off at highspeeds, and this time I have no guardrails.

Human minds who disagree... but everyone is looking for something

I consider myself to be very allowing and liberal but there are still ideas that I can never even begin to consider. Someone presented the idea that since no one person can supply you with everything that you need monogamous relationships do not make sense. As I am sitting here I can’t silence the choir of ‘whys’ in three part harmony in my head. Are we as people meant to have everything that we want? Why does getting it all help anyone to grow? I have seen many people in my life who have not cherished what they have been given. What I find so frightening are people who take love and affection for granted. Human nature is to be fickle, why should this trait be encouraged?. Why would having been with so many different people not spoil how they measure the worth of an individual person? I would very much like to think that people are not disposable, like objects that can easily be replaced.

If an individual has limits and a set personality will it in time starve the other in a relationship? Are commitments between a couple inside a serious responsible relationship solely built upon benefits the other can extend? Is love only sought out for selfish gain? Is being with a fellow human who understandably has natural weaknesses so oppressive?

Is it so hard to commit over long periods of time inside of relationship? Because it gets ‘old’? Is monogamy supposedly so unnatural because of these timed expiration dates? Is it like a favorite song that has been overplayed? What is not understood that so much is unwritten about people, we are constantly recomposing ourselves in various ways. A person is not a 3 and a half minute song produced by a one hit wonder band. Oh I’m done with you I know all the words you will say, I know you too well. I know that I am constantly unfolding and evolving everyday and I hope that this is for the better. It maybe that I am just weird, but the longer I have known someone, the more connected I am to them.

I am a creative person, I enjoy cultivating matter and creating. I find music completely necessary. Does this mean I must marry an artist , a poet, or a musician to be satisfied? No! While I can’t say I wouldn’t want to, what I am really looking for is just someone who can understand my thinking or at least where my thinking comes from. I don’t need someone to appreciate and approve of all my interests. Just as long as they can understand that I feel it deeply.

What I am saying is not that you can’t expect anything out of the other person in a relationship with you. I am saying that if someone doesn’t meet all your requirements on a personality level, doesn’t get a ‘A’ in all your favorite subjects, that’s okay. What I look for is someone who has the capacity to understand who I am and understand and share my values. I can expect them to be compassionate and loyal, cause I think these traits are attractive even romantic. I can expect them to be a true individual in a world whose peoples survival depend on conforming. I can expect whoever it is to think for himself, and to be logical in decisions. I have met many people who are poetic who through their hands up in the air while trying to read or write a poem. I have met artless artists and passionless musicians. I’m not going to pack my bags and leave someone because they are too quiet and tone deaf, because they can’t sketch a convincing stick figure etc. As with any person you meet there will be something unlikable about them. Realizing the humanity in someone while knowing what it is about them that matters- this is so beautiful to me. Loving someone unashamed. You can be and should be careful and clearly decisive in these matters. You should be careful who you give a part of yourself over to, and who you will be receiving a part of. I don’t want such a personal exchange to be in vain.

Polygamy eliminates the need to choose. I feel comfortable with monogamy and commitments because I know that I am capable of making with adequate time sane and worthwhile judgements. If I am wrong on something it will turn out okay? Why? Because I learn from screwing things up. Sometimes it is a few episodes of trial and error that I need to expand my ability to make a good judgement.

I see it like this, by choosing to be monogamous I am saying I respect myself. I am saying that my love is worth being kept, that it is a rare thing and by not giving issuing out romantic love to everyone I have made it precious. I have a price and an indefinite value. In return I have to earn the love of someone else and I can expect it from everyone.

In a world where people come and go out of my life, where I can take no one for granted it is nice to have a hold on a certain amount of consistency. This is something I usually keep to myself but for the arguments’ sake I will bring it up. The fact is people leave. They go you go. A spouse is someone who has agreed unconditionally to stay a part of your life forever. (good heavens I sound like a RS handbook) The first person you see is that person when you wake up. And how beautiful it is to think that you will not lose touch with that person. It is a timeless alliance that takes honor to uphold. But the rest of society sees marriage as imprisonment. Looking at the rising divorce rates marriage isn’t trendy anymore. So if embracing my values is unnatural or relatively unconventional, I dare to beat against the tide.

Live

Live, don't be afraid to fall. You could have died several times today-- crossing the street, refusing to speak your mind, choking because of one improper swallow, killing off a last and needed hope, breathing carbon monoxide in your house. If you were too safe and unwilling to take any risk you would have died also; you would starve, you keep yourself from taking in any air --good or bad-- bluing your face. People would see the wall when they looked at you, because you said nothing of the thoughts you claim. Worst of all the cars would pass you -- red or green light break or no break between vehicles and your feet would stay grossly welded into the grey pavements while you, unmoving watch with fear never to cross, never to advance when you are made for moving.

the bombs bursting in air...

I had my forth of July on the second. The stadium of fire scheduled for the second for whatever reason, but it worked out nicely for us.

I'm in American Fork right now spending the night at my cousins' house. It's a little strange because their parents aren't home and my whole family is spending the night here. I thought the decision was a little hasty but no one here seems to mind our impromptu stay.

I can't recall a more spectacular show of fire works, but this may be because this is the first year out of four that I had not read off and on through the show. This year I ventured to go out farther than usual, I found the edge of the swirling bridge as I had sworn to but never had the patience to as a child. I found a perfect place for watching the skies by the Marriot center. I jumped over the gate and dangled my legs over the ledge. I looked like a child really, even felt like one. It was as if it were the first time I had ever seen fireworks before. The area we choose is always so picturesque and it facinates me how the place never seems to change. I've visited it every year in July since I was young, it's strange how my perspectives have changed since then, every time I go I see something new.

My cousins went about their usual antics... I've admired their spunk since I was young. The logical responsible side of me went on and on about how hazardous it was to traffic. But I was in the right kind of mood to allow children to be children and let a holiday be a holiday. It was like old times, all the boys ran wild causing trouble, the girls went around to threaten their sense of manhood by thwarting their little adventures.


Very rarely do I ever wake so calmly as I did this morning. All and all it's been a good day, from the beginning to end. Sadly, I've got to force myself to call it a night.

"Sing once again with me, our strange duet"

Sometime ago I've finished the book Phantom and have recently rented the Phantom of the Opera movie (that and van helsing in all its suckiness...two movies seen in one month? unbelivable...). The black and white still existed contrary to what someone once told me.
For the overall story in both the book and movie - beautiful. Beautifully written, sung, and portrayed I was really taken away by this. I'm adding another book on my need to read list, I've never read the original book and I need to because I am almost sure that the book Phantom was only adapted from the original story, (no question that the movie wasn't) I would like to see the musical and buy the soundtrack as well, but I have to be honest with myself, I'm a poor kid saving for college. Tickets for that show are expensive enough ordinarily but with all the hype going on about it I can see prices rising because people would be more than willing to pay.
I see it as an outward representation of how strange and fragile the heart is. It is much too powerful to toy with because of the unique and extreme response the heart can evoke. This story gives you the eyes to see the mindsets and inner feelings normally not shown. These rollercoaster like emotions were given attention to show exactly how much damage making finalities wait can be. I believe that everyone would in specific circumstances feel as the characters did in the story, but how they would outwardly respond is another story. There is no direct emotional justification to give, only circumstances to take into mind. If you have throughout your life been denied even the basest rights as a human, ostracized from society by being proclaimed a black product of hell, stowed away up in an attic for fear of mobs, you will most likely lose respect for the public. This was his last attempt at any human associations. Anyone with enough insight can see why these tragic conditions would negatively condition a person, shaping a character out of man's fear and hatred. The emotions were truly a prominent element in the story, but it boils down to one thing- the need to feel positive emotions while being tormented by a twisted world man's prejudices has built for the different since birth. No matter how far this is repressed, every human has a need for positive relationships after being emancipated from any claims as human.
I've thought long on this seeing as this topic was the center of extensive controversy sometime back, and many of the themes can be paralleled to those involved the more I think about it. These three characters define a choice and why exactly you must not choose to be blind. Light and dark caught between and depending on the whims of a pacifist gray...
Surely 'none of us can choose where we will love'. What an abstract emotion it is, love... It has the capability to affect every fiber of your being. It makes people do the strangest things, find faces you never knew you had. This is why I can't say that any relationship I've been in has been in vain, through most long term interactions I have with any person I discover something new within me.

we were MEANT to live for so much more, but we lost ourselves

Today was like one of those movies with unexpected twists dropping out from the skies. Beautiful day really, mostly. I wish I could grace it by writing about it, it was restful, despite the year ending. I hope that I can make the most of these beautiful days while they last. Even when things go well, I try to keep my eyes open. I know too much of what happens when people go on thinking they don't need their eyes.

I went driving like a big girl, after begging to go around the block (without insurance mind you) because I have a liscense, to make a long story short.

But this is so small, (even if the dent wasn't...) I am reminded more and more everyday that life is and may never be fair. Why must there be endless loads for those who no longer can continue on pulling their feet forward? It angers me to see 'adults' neglect their priveledges as parents, I stress the word privelege. Not just anyone should be able to have kids, but when I look closer some of the most beautiful people I know have come from these wreckages. My heart goes out to anyone who lives in these dysfunctional circumstances, anyone who lives from day to day not knowing if there will be a morning.

I've heard of her family situation, I hardly know this girl. I know her only through the decorating committee. She's around twelve, thirteen and is living with her grandmother for reasons I won't go into. . . People of Indian (from INDIA) descent are so beautiful to me, you'd think looking at her rounded eyes that she's living blissfully unaware as every other teenager does. No, the problem is she's too aware, too aware of how the world is not already. Childhood never lasts the way it should, it was stolen early from her from those who grew up with the worst of their ways. Why do these things happen? Why must children have to pay for the mistakes of their elders?

This is exactly why I gravely considered social work. Because I've seen these things. Too many times, happening to people that I know and love. The problem with this is I would become too involved therefore biased and overly defensive. It would wrench at me tearing homes, no matter how terrible, apart. Even if a child can tolerate such a situation, the environment is still damaging, raised to think that such things are deserved and completely normal. What kills me is how she still talks about her mother, how she listens to eighties music. It brings her mom to mind, who is only reminded of the last high and the next one needed while behind bars.

Another friend right now is struggling, practically blind to the world around her. Her moral confusion does not surprise me in the least, she lives always like there is never going to be a tommorrow. Her lapse into her old ways was heartbreaking, last I saw her, her eyes seemed brighter. She seemed more independant somehow, she was invesitgating churches exploring for what she believes. Where is all that now? Now it is just her using anything to scrape at her emptiness, going all the wrong places, again finding all the wrong people. I only hope that she will learn that in time there may be more for her, more than this. How to contact her? I'm getting closer but at this point it's all about damage control. This only goes so far, but it's an effort and I am such a stubborn idealist.

I see this girl, as talkative as any girl her age, with her dark eyes concentrating deeply on every bead she strung, so careful, almost too careful. My craft agenda has gone to the dogs this week, she offered to help finish since she claims to have too much time on her hands. Still gives so much of herself when she's not even sure what she still has.

I want so badly to believe there is hope for her, that her upbringing will not be her making. It's always easier to fall into that pattern already made by the generation before, I just hope she has the strength to continue making her own tracks, and not following the shadowed footsteps that were not laid with her in mind.
Always back to music with me, always; another lyric quoted- Don't it make you sad to know life is more than who we are?

with the scenery flying by. . .

Notice how large events turn you in upon yourself? Thinking over these things I should probably sit down taking as much in as I can while rolling it over in my head. I can't. Life feels a lot like running right now. In such a short amount of time I get so far away at this speed. I try to do what I can while I am in the place I am in. Realistically it's only visiting, but really I have got to make things matter. I never truly pass anything by, I keep every significant thing that happens with me. I take it everywhere with me. I don't see much people do this anymore. Does it have to be this way?

I want to believe that people never truly leave me, it feels this way at least. It is strange. . . I walk through the halls of the school and feel so foreign. Everyone with the exception of friends behaves as if nothing is happening, and for them I guess not much really is. For me this is huge. There should be another term coming up. I have only just rebuilt my life and again I must pack up, literally. A tad bit overwhelming but at the same time encouraging. I know how important it is to leave what I know already know so that I may learn to know more, to expand what I see as comfortable. Even still I can't help but to cling to these roots I have only just planted. . .

I am trying to teach myself not to expect, but to be curious and open to the possibilities. It is hard for me because I get so easily attached to most things once I settle in. I want to leave my familiar and see more, to evaluate my world exploring what else is open to me. As for where I will be next I will 'know' a grand total of two people. My cousin of course and Amy. It is good to talk to her, someone with a good head on her shoulders. She has a lot of faith in junior colleges and what they have to offer. She's very familiar with the campus and courses as her siblings either work or have attended school there. I told her of my Snow Blast experience with Barbie and Skipper. . . She says since it's open enrollment a lot of people who aren't very serious can get in but there are still many students down there with brains. Holy crap, how good it was to hear that. There is unexplained comaderie between us right now just knowing that we'll be in the same place. She offered to room with me but she's going to live in the apartments while I'll be living in the shac-- I mean -- dorms. /jk.

At this pace it's hard to tell what I'm headed for or bigger yet what is heading for me. It's exciting but scary as hell. June first at noon I'll be capped and gowned walking! Lindsey and her friends want to go to my graduation, and I can't really explain why this is comforting. Them little punks, they're fun to have around.

This along with other things are too urgent. Right now everything comes down to hit or miss situations. I have no time to hold my breath.

AN OPERA?

Of all things. They created an Opera 1984. WTF mate.

http://deseretnews.com/dn/view/0,1249,600135440,00.html

Her Cruising Car

H e r C r u i s i n g C a r
A portrait of Two Small Town Girls



There is nothing . . . that can be said . . . that can frighten me . . . anymore . . . Sadden me . . . perhaps . . . disgust me . . . certainly . . . but not make me afraid . . . it has been said . . . Learn What You Fear . . . Then Make Love To It . . . dance with it . . . put it on your dresser . . . and kiss it good . . . night . . . Say it . . . over and over . . . until in the darkest hour . . . from the deepest sleep . . . you can be awakened . . . to say Yes . . .

She has never learned . . . no matter how often people tried . . . that it was hers . . . the fear and the Life . . . the glory of the gamble . . . It was her quarter . . . she had to pick the machine . . . She never understood . . . simple duty . . . knowing only to give all of herself . . . or none . . . There was no balance . . . to her triangle . . . though three points . . . are the strongest mathematical figures . . . no tingle . . . when struck . . . no joy . . . in her song . . .
no comfort in her chair . . . war / always war . . . with whom she was . . . who she wanted to be . . . and what they wanted . . . of her . . .

One reason I think . . . I am qualified . . . to run the world . . . thought my appointment is not imminent . . . is when I get . . . what I want . . . I am happy . . . It is surprising to me . . . how few
people are . . . When they win . . . like Richard Nixon or John McEnroe . . . they are unhappy . . . when they lose . . . impossible . . . One reason I think . . . I have neither ulcers nor nail biting habits . . . is I know how to be careful . . . of what I want . . . I just may get it . . .

She was never taught . . . that everything is earned . . . that Newton was right . . . for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction . . . Interest is obtained . . . only on Savings . . . Personality is developed . . . only on risk . . . What is sought . . . must first be given . . . We please others . . . by only allowing them access . . . to that part of ourselves which is public . . . If familiarity breeds contempt . . . use breeds hatred . . .

Turtles . . . the kind you find in pet stores . . . the kind Darwin met on Galapagos . . . grow to fit the environment . . . There are . . . probably some genetic limits . . . but a small turtle . . . in a
rise . . . proportionate more to the size . . . of the pot . . . than the relationship of the sun . . . to rain . . . Humans seldom deviate . . . If she hadn't been a small town girl . . . with a mind and heart molded absolutely . . . to fit the environment . . . she might have developed . . . a real skill . . . a real desire . . . to discover herself . . . and her gifts . . . As it was . . . as it is . . . she simply got used . . . and used to using . . .

She was never a loner . . . never made . . . to understand that life . . . in fact . . . is a solitary journey . . . that only one . . . was going to St. Ives . . . that no one held her bag . . . while the old
. . . woman traveled to Skookum . . . that the Little Red Hen and the Engine that Could . . . did it themselves . . . She was . . . let's face it . . . the leader of the pack . . . the top of the heap . . . cheer-leader extraordinaire . . . She was very popular . . . sought after by all the right people . . . for her jokes . . . her parties . . . her parents' car . . . The telephone was invented . . . just for her . . . She set up the friendships . . . the going steadys . . . the class officers . . . yearbook staff . . . Who's-In-Who's-Out . . . through the witch wire . . . Nothing could happen . . . without her
input . . . She actually thought it was important . . . who went with whom . . . to the junior prom . . . But somebody had to pick up the fallen streamers . . . sweep the now scarred dance floor . . .
turn out the lights before they could go home . . .

We were born . . . in the same year . . . our mothers delivered . . . by the same doctor . . . of the same city . . . in the same hospital . . . We were little chubby girls in pink . . . passing cigarettes at the lawn parties . . . My mother made me play . . . with her . . . and hers . . . with me . . . We didn't really mind . . . we shared the same friends . . . hers . . . and the same ideas . . . mine . . . Maybe I became . . . too accustomed . . . to the sameness . . . It was certainly easier . . . for me to shed . . . her friends . . . than she to shed . . . my notions . . . Our mothers belonged . . . to the same clubs . . . Our fathers tracked . . . the same night devils . . . They all had the same expectations . . . from . . . of . . . at . . . or to . . . us . . . I liked to brood . . . she didn't . . . She liked to laugh . . . I didn't . . . I thought I was ugly . . . she didn't . . .

Pots are taught not to call kettles Black . . . people who live in glass houses . . . don't throw stones . . . small town girls learn early . . . or not at all . . . that they can make a life . . . or abort the promise . . . One of us tried . . . one of us didn't have to . . . To each . . . according to her birth . . . from each according to her ability . . . Which is bastardized Marx . . . but legitimate bourgeoisie . . . She was never caring . . . She never learned to see . . . beyond her own windshield . . . that there were other people on the sidewalk . . . other cars . . . on the road . . . She drank . . . too much . . . for too long . . . Maybe in the back of her mind . . . or heart . . . or closet . . . there was a sign saying: There-Is-More- Than-This . . . but she wouldn't pull it out . . . put it up . . . or even acknowledge that somethings . . . many things . . . were missing . . . I accept . . . if not embrace . . . the pain . . . the sign on my car says: I Brake For Gnomes . . . the one in my heart reads Error In Progress -- Please Send Chocolate . . .

Into the rising sun . . . or setting years . . . accustomed to the scattered friends littering the road . . . she drives on . . . with the confidence of small town drivers who know every wayfall . . . toward the smaller minds . . . around the once hopeful lovers . . . into the illusion of what it is . . . to be a woman . . . through the delusion that trip necessitates . . . never once slowing . . . to ask Did I Hurt You . . . May I Love You . . . Can I/May I Please Give . . . You A Lift . . . With the surety . . . of one who never had to walk . . . she accelerates . . . toward boredom . . . secure in the understanding . . . that everybody knows her . . . and would be unlikely to ticket . . . her cruising car . . . She was my friend . . . more than a sister . . . really . . . a part of the mirror . . . against which I adjust . . . my makeup . . . I have no directions . . . but here is a sign . . . Thomas
Wolfe was wrong . . . Maybe it will be read . . .

-Nikki Giovanni

Closure

There are times when I do not know even where to begin and this is oneof those times. I've put off writing about it out of laziness or out of fear that I may not be able to recite it all exactly as it was. I suppose if it does not hold the exactness that I wish it would, it is still much better than no record at all.

I was working on finishing the set on Tuesday. The majority of the class was starting on the new one, but in order for the backdrops to be sold, they must be finished. It made no difference to me, because I have never felt painting was a chore (with the exception of my painting class last year...) Another girl, a friend of mine, stayed also to finish the balcony. We talked of our old junior high friends in Bountiful for a time. I'm not exactly one for gossip, but it seemed harmless enough, and hearing about them keeps their memories real.

I went on to tell her that I thought that they had found the perfect actor for Guston, for that is his nature. We laughed and she told me I wasn't the first to say that. She went through an experience similiar to mine, except of course there were differences. That topic being brought up I asked her something that has been tearing at me for months now. In response she asked me if I was willing to take the risk. I thought on that and I could not give an answer. I knew if all went wrong, it would physically take it's toll on me as it already has. Contrary to that, I also knew that I had to know regardless, and I didn't really care much about what it's potential effects on me. So I finally came out with an 'I think so...' I told her of how unsure I was. She told me that some people never change, like an old friend she had before. "I'd stick my neck out for her and she would break it, I held out my hand to her and she would slap it." she said. In the end, she decided to still associate with her but only as an acquaintance because of the amount she continued to give of herself without any reason.

I didn't say anything to that, and continued working on the shot glasses I was painting on the tavern backdrop feeling let down somehow. She noticed that, and went on to talk about the alternative, saying it may be different. That there could be a chance, that I could slowly work into it. I liked to hear that, but it didn't calm the tight feeling in my stomach. I confessed that I have thought of that, but I was too nervous. I told her I wouldn't even know where to begin. She told me just to begin there, to say I would like things to be right again but I'm nervous. It was simple, but it was an answer that was invaluable to me, like being able to admit my hesitance would ease the relectance to talk. Another thing was that I was afraid that by now, there would be no room left for me, and I was afraid that I was already erased. Again, she told me to admit that openly. And again it was something I had never considered. Instead I thought it would have to be an all or nothing ordeal. She wished me luck with it, and we had to clean up. After she finished washing out her brushes I stopped her and thanked her for telling me what I needed to hear.

Though wounds were still open I was deadset on it, even though through out the day my stomach felt sunken in and I tried my best to ignore it. What fuelled me was the fear that I could later have no place at all in her life and above all that scared me most. I could not bear the thought of being erased, at least not by her. On the other hand, I could not push away the feeling I had that I was only white noise. Filler in which people faintly hear and can easily adjust to it's prescence and absence. I half expected her to try to pretend she was relieved, to force out smiles and words, out of a natural obligation such situations call for.

I called her after wrestling myself for ten minutes after coming home from school. I had trouble with keeping the phone still, I was so anxious. When she answered... I don't know exactly... The familiarity of her voice shocked me, and finally it did not sound like someone else speaking. I braced myself inwardly even for the hello, and then I found her voice not as , for the lack of a better word, --intimidating-- the way I had anticipated.

The first thing I said when I had met up with her was - I'm surprised you recognized my voice, I would have thought that you would have forgotten my voice by now. When she said she did not understand, I explained that it had just been too long. I had expected myself to cry and tears were welling up, but I did not spill any. She said that she was going to come over to my house over the break (gah, them college punks, getting spring break early and all) to do whatever she could to do what we were doing then and as odd as this sounds, I do not think it a coincidence... She went on to say that can't sleep anymore, as I have (though she didn't know), thinking of it. And that as hard as she tried she couldn't forget me, and no one did compare. I told her of how she was everywhere, in a song on the radio, in books I read, the places I'd go. There was always a reminder. With that my voice broke and I felt I would also cry, as she was, though I didn't. Something in me must unconciously block that when I am outside of my home.

She asked me why I would go about this, after everything that took place. It was so easy to talk to her, just as before... I told I do not believe that mistakes should follow a person throughout their lives, I know the importance of second chances. If I were to have been branded with every wrong I have done, if I had not been allowed second chances I wouldn't be the way I am now. I have also seen what happens if you don't. It has the potential to make you become worse than what or who that offended you in the first place. It would not have been fair for me to urge others to reconcile in the past if I could not do it in my own life.

She asked if I was going to be friends with Benson again, I managed to stumble out a yes. Not now though, definitely not now, just hearing his voice the other day was shock enough for me. I wouldn't want any one to have to attend to me if I were to have a shock like that one, on a different level. It gets awkward, and it makes me feel like a child.

We must have walked for hours at a time. And we both had so much to say as anyone could imagine. My ribs and spine have something to prove of that day, cause we hugged each other so tightly then. Girls, honesty, they are so weird. How funny it is to think that anyone could come to understand the full elasticity of the female psyche. Not to say that this particular instant could not be understood, but the emotional fluctuations of a girl in general are so entirely complex... You can write an accurate manual on no one, the expanses of one's personality can't be defined by boundaries, especially a girl, if I may say so myself.

What astounded me was that she told me she bought a Christmas present for me... And for a second time I felt the pent up tears. But again, there weren't any that came. I was so sure that I would have been pushed away even by December, that then there was no place left for me anymore. It was a soundtrack of an anime. I love it, she's always been able to pinpoint music I would love. There is a song on there which has some revelance to this; there are reasons why I am led to think she specifically chose it for a purpose. It was ironic, at least to me, we parted with lyrics, and we also reconciled with them... I can't help but notice that pattern...

Thinking back on it, it did not feel it was anything like a compromise or a risk, as I had assumed it would feel. It was more of a relief. A release of some kind. It was surprising to me how natural it felt. I imagined it to be an awkward exchange of words, but it was nothing like that. Again, it was all so natural, I had expected to be more withdrawn, but it was the opposite of that, I was completely open, as was she. I know exactly why I was afraid of losing her, because she was still, even then, so much of a part of me. There was no one else that I have been so honest with, no one besides her that I have opened up with in that way. Only she knows of what I am most afraid of, and the dark years behind me. No one has gotten to know me in the way that she has, I usually don't let people. In order to truly know me, you would have to know about that, and I stubbornly refuse to bring up such things because of how uneasy it makes me.

I slept that night without any trouble. I haven't been able to say that for some time now, usually thoughts of either of them would plague me hours before I could sleep. It was restful for once and that was good enough in itself.

I've been working on the set all the day-long day...

Paint and sweat, a good combination if you ask me.

I stayed after for four and a half hours in set design yesterday. I still ache, yes, but it's rewarding and there is always a price to pay. I finished the rest of the backdrop. Oh my gosh, it's a good thing I am not afraid of heights. (I'm a little backward, I love heights) I have no balance what so ever, so I had to be careful, especially when I stood on a chair on the extremely unstable balcony of one of the set pieces. I could only think 'am I skateboarding or painting?' I was up there about twenty-thirty feet or more off the ground. I got used to the wobbling of the set piece after a while. I'm going to get myself into trouble one of these days, always assuming I'm invincible. It was a lot worse when I was standing on the lower gate. It kept on shifting beneath me and in the morning, I almost fell twice. Not the best thing to do early in the morning. I felt seasick. I held on to the side of the backdrop to at least give myself the illusion that I wasn't going to fall.

Nine more days until opening night. Nine more, and there is still so much to be done. Every year everyone makes it happen, every year there is a miracle, so we're all hoping and praying that we'll get that prescribed miracle. And a big one at that.

So, no pressure, I'm practically the head painter in my class. Eesh. I don't know if I can keep that title but okay...

I'm sore because my manly ego kicked in when set pieces had to be moved. I knew it would kill my back, but I just get tired of asking for help. Eventually I did, after moving several pieces, for fear of my vertebrae exploding. After what went on in dance, I just couldn't stand it anymore. There were so many routines and stretches and exercises I had to pass up because 'it would be bad for my back'. Blah. I hate just sitting there, fidgeting. I want to get something out of the class, even if I have no grace.

I usually swallow my pride and ask for help (or at least as of lately), but after all that, but I hit that limit. Nuh uh. I really hate not being able to do what I could do so easily before. That's why I hate asking for help, because I know that I can. I would prefer to do it myself. I'd rather not need anyone to help me and not I'm not only talking about lifting. I guess this is what life is trying to teach me right now- how to rely on others. I hate having to rely on someone else instead of my own means as I would have. It makes me feel so helpless at times...

My third week in set design, I joked that we needed workman's comp for the class. I'm not joking anymore, we need it. We use all the heavy duty equipment, drills, jigsaws, you name it. And you don't really have to know how to operate them, in order to use them. We have no safety gear. Ferrin will just tell you what to do. Someone is bound to lose a finger or an arm. Anna twisted her ankle after the stage broke beneath her. So not only can you fall from way way way up there, you can also fall from the main level. Comforting isn’t it? If you survive all that, then you deal with everyone else's wrath, including the teacher's. And then teeth will be ripped out and limbs will fly. It's funny to watch all the squabbling in the mornings. We got a lot of attitude in there, it makes things interesting.

I’m keeping my fingers crossed until opening night. Hopefully it will pull through.

"Starting over is alright, the end is so far away."

No rest for the wicked, or so they say. There's truth in that. I'm worn out already. Zero energy. Zip.

Ugh. If I don't crash before the day is over, then I'll call it good.

People aren't falling dead in the streets just yet. But the plague spreads and I carry it. I've had the influenza for a week now. Not just the flu, no, the doctor insists that flu I know is petty stomach flu and this is the influenza. I could have strep too, but I am to the points of not caring. Details...

It's becoming bearable now, it's not bad. I can breathe, I can talk without sounding like a man, and that’s all I care about. Right now all I have is a cough, just a cough.

My sleep last night wasn't as restful as I hoped it would be. My dreams were unsettling, though that isn't anything new. I'm sure I have almost faded out of their lives, and they seem to be taking a part of my life that I never thought they would have. I'm not sure if I want them to completely leave or not.

Approaching them would be pointless, seeing as I would have no reason to. Hi I’m just here to be here, to see if your presence still unnerves me. No it doesn’t work that way. So I've started a journal to them, though it's not meant for them to see. It's strange how what I write in that journal comes as a surprise to me each time. I still have so many mixed feelings directed towards them. Hopefully this will give me a way to

I didn't want to address this, or even dwell on the larger picture but I don't exactly have a lot of options here. Lets see here, do nothing and let my subconscious nag at me, or do something however small to settle myself.

There is a line from a song I like that goes 'we must sucumb to the feelings we can never face.' I'm not comfortable with it, and I never have been with those things, but if I leave it as it is, I will be worse off.

Happy FREAKING Valentines Day.

a.k.a. national singles awareness day. Well, not exactly, a friend told me a joke about it last year. I like calling it that because I couldn't stop laughing when I heard it.

Nevermind. Valentines is crap.

There's a song, whose chorus jumped out at me, "Don't try to open my door with a skeleton key, they all tell me my problem is that I can't find someone as crazy as me." Yep. Holds true. It's so hard to find those peticular crazy people these days, so to speak.

And still, despite how pessimistic this day usually makes me, I made valentines this year. I blame it all on boredom.