"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.

The lights flickered and finally blacked out for about ten seconds. After the news I just heard from the librarians here, it's only a tad unnerving.

A Flying J truck transporting butane got into an accident on Highway 89 in Farmington and took out a van. The butane tank it carried cracked open. I don't know much about physics, but I'd like to know how this happened. The butane carried over through the air over to a nearby farm, and it caused an explosion, but the damage was only internal. The outside of the farm was not damaged.

There was an evacuation order called for in the area, where Mrs. Orem lives. They were told to leave immediately and report to the city hall or an elementary. Emergency vehicles rushed down the streets with bullhorns announcing the evacuation.

At first she was not told why, and if I were her, I would assume either a) apocolyspe or b) World War three.

So when the lights went out, then flickered, then went pitch black, I was expecting some sort of impending doom.

"Drawn to the weather of leave-taking, so that it may be read from a distance"

There are reasons why I wish years would pass by. I want to read this all from a distance.

I told myself there was nothing there, because I thought I had done away with it. And I have, but it will sneak up on me sometimes.

I'm aware of it at least.

Perhaps this is best, at least that's what I want to believe. But it's so hard to believe in anything now, I'm afraid to. The way I thought it would be is of no comfort.

I like to run for these reasons, even at inconvenient hours, in places I don't know, cause it feels like I'm getting away from everything that I'd rather have behind me. Even if it drains me, I really don't care. I'm tired of having to be so cautious.

Everything about me wants to leave this place, to graduate and finally move away from everything I know. It's not happening soon enough.

I continue

Again, there's a danger in being too hopeful. I always take the risk of that. I jumped a little ahead of myself, and almost made a mistake I could not afford, at least not yet. I want to. Can't explain how bad I want to, but I just can't leave myself open again for something so unstable.

I'm not ready, and it took someone completely out of the situation to show me that. The woman's curiousity caught me completely offguard. It was brief, but it surprised me that I acted the way I did. I was surprised to find that my eyes teared up, like everything just resurfaced then. I made it a point to leave, without letting that reaction show up, if I saw her see that, I would have to admit to myself there is still something there that I would rather ignore.

Two weeks of nothing and finally a day that's eventful. It was strange on Sunday. I didn't listen to the meeting much, there were too many familiar faces. The whole building had the feeling of 'I've been here before'. Some of the people weren't as evasive as I had expected. There was even a bit of catching up inbetween the small talk.

In the family get together afterward, my relatives discussed college with me at length. As we were talking I felt that senioritis kick in. I'm looking forward to that challenge and the independence. It made it feel more real and concrete talking about the plans I have after highschool. (No, I'm not going to beauty school, even if they tell me it's in my blood.) I got a bit of feedback on Snow College and the small town where it's located, which was very nice. I'm looking forward to it, though leaving my siblings will be hard.

I touched bases with my cousin, who I will be rooming with. I can't help but to laugh at myself. I told her I was feeling good about the Magnolia dorums because I heard that they were nice and they included cooking areas which she wanted. (I'm so so glad she can cook, I burn so much food you could call me a pyromaniac.) What I didn't say is why I liked the Magnolia dorums. lol. I love magnolias, I like they way their petals look. I also like the way the word magnolia sounds. Could there be a better name for a dorum? And it has a spiral staircase, a real actual spiral staircase!!! Sadly, those two trivial reasons alone are almost enough to make up my mind, and I'm such an indecisive person.

I have mixed feelings on rooming with my cousin. It will be nice to actually know at least one of my roomates, and actually be aquainted with them. Much better than being stuck with a stranger. Rooming with family is inevitable, I have cousins EVERYWHERE. But this also takes away a part of the solitude (not the word I'm looking for but whatever) I was hoping for. The family ties I have with her will make it harder to be independent in the way that I would like to be. Next to that, I'm always afraid of offending her. I feel like I can't be myself around her. Rooming with other people involves tolerance, or so I understand. Maybe all of this is imagined.

Since I was already in the area, I decided to drop by and visit an old friend after the party. We also did some catching up. Okay, a lot of catching up. I laughed a bit when she asked why I of all people would be shy. I'm not exactly what you would call shy, it's something other than that. I guess it's that I'm a little more guarded than I should be. Quiet, yes, I'm quiet, but that's starting to change, it's getting like it was before, almost to the point where I don't shut up. It was good to see her again. It's been a while but I don't think time has ever been a barrier between us.

Got a lot on my mind right now but these kinds of overloads seem almost natural. The courses life takes is funny sometimes. Funny in a chaotic sort of way.

I got a bumper sticker and I'm in love.

THINK:

I refuse to have a battle of wits

with an unarmed person.

My sweater is on backwards and inside out, and you say how appropriate

So next week, due to family buisness, I'll be going to my Uncle's ward for a baby blessing. My previous ward. Should prove to be interesting seeing people I went to school with back in the day. It seems wherever I go in Bountiful, my reputation there follows me...

Still, I have a message to give, from a friend, to one of the guys from my previous 'group'. I could so easily play matchmaker here, but that's if I choose to, it wouldn't be the first time I've tried to set them up. Of course I creep them out up there, him included...

Talking to that friend was interesting, she still keeps in touch with them. From what I heard, the group dynamics are still just as chaotic as ever if not worse, and well, I'm reminded that I came to this school for a reason. I hated the teenage politics and the class divisions not to mention the endless drama. I didn't choose to conform to that, I was backward when it came to it. No wonder I chose to stand in the shadows...

People were scared of me there, scared. Still are I guess, there at least. Bountiful people are very strange. It was because I didn't seem normal, because I didn't look them in a group A and group B environment. It didn't really help that I cussed or that I had a sadistic sense of humor or the million other reasons why I didn't fit the part. Kinda intimidated people, though now, I'm almost harmless (by choice), but I can't say that for then.

Couldn't help it this time, had to quote Ms. Morrisette on this one. It just goes to show why I hate fashion and the idea that a person's style reflects their personality and status. I get enough of that BS at home. My parents hold to that strongly, sadly enough, I would have liked to think that people would see the stupidity in that as they grew older. They're still worried of what people think of them, and then you got me, I don't give a damn. Hell, I've been punished before because I wanted to wear something 'springy' to church during the winter season. No wonder I'm so anti-fashion.

Yes, me and my tangents... Back to what I was saying... I've almost missed that reputation, if not that identity, as I am seen as harmless and innocent. I use the word almost, and only because it worked to my advantage then, but it would not now. I used that outlook as a shield there, to keep people away that let a petty appearance determine who I am. Though it was nice to somewhat kill off the expectations from my parents. I have no need to completely shut people out, because of what it once made me. Live and learn they say.

So anyway, I'm hoping to get a few laughs out of it, if they seem a little withdrawn. I'm going to talk to them regardless, though they may not recognize me with light hair. I haven't seen real fear in a long while. Though what they are afraid of, I do not know.

After all this I'm almost sure I can take any thing shot my way. I only reassure myself by thinking the ammuniton must be running low.

I hate to feel defenseless and unarmed, especially since life has never shown me much of peace. Seems like I've always had to fight or brace myself from these kinds of circumstances that keep arising. Time and time again I've come to realize I can only depend on my own resources. It makes me feel so naked and vulnerable this way. Been feeling that alot lately in the past few months. They were all inconsistent, but I am slowly making reparations. I can't afford to be that way...

The more I think about this, and my life, the more this makes sense. This reflex is in me. So dammit, keep on shooting. And if you sink one, it's just a flesh wound. When the little bugger runs out it best take caution. Cause that will be my time to retaliate.

If I were to learn only by trial and error, I would say never show weakness or vulnerablity, that raises a white flag, inviting scavengers. But it doesn't work that way. I am only waiting for something to finish, so that I can finally begin.

I'm a little unsure on this, on dating... A part of me wants them to go away or find someone else cause I am not up to it right now. Whenever I will be, who knows? I am not sure of the time, but when my life starts making sense again, that will be when. And then there is my cousin, who is complaining because she can't find anyone and no one is interested, which goes to show life doesn't distribute things equally.

So again, fighting an old battle that feels like I've always had to fight, yet it is so recent. And it scares me because there is no target, no visible opponent. the thing that scares me most is not being able to rely on my own senses, because after all, in such an unpredictable world you have to keep on your toes. It's a bit unnerving to be unable to rely on my own resources, even if it's only part of the time...

This isn't going to be as easy as I hoped it would be. Again, parents come into the picture and complicate things. I never thought I would have to beg to get a college application fee paid by them. My mom has been putting off filling out her part on my FASFA application form. And then when I ask to go down to Snow College to talk to them about scholarships, my mom tells me I have to go with someone else because she doesn't want to go on a three hour drive. How much more backward could this situation be? Most parents would support higher education, but to them it's more of a nuisance. I am even applying to the least expensive, best school open to me. I've done all this on my own, but since I can't meet the deadlines without something on their part, it still seems as a burden to my parents.

So, it better work out because despite my reverse senioritis, I want so badly to get out of here.

Extension

I always said that it was impossibleto live and be aware, that is how we began but we needed more. The further forward we went, the more we needed to imagine other landscapes, other conquests. I am blind on earth but I know the way,the same gestures repeated over and over daily, I know all the tastes, the artificial flavours, I am capable of not breathing. My hands don't grope, I know the way and I invent new turns, other landscapes, the further forward I go, the more I must leave my habits behind. So I imagine that things are not what they seem,that my life is changing, that boredom wears off. I always knew that I was lying but sometimes however I am not so certain when under my foot a hole that I never felt appears. Thus I can keep on walking because I want more, always more.

-Morthem Vlade

Fingers...Cold... Heck, I'm wearing gloves indoors. This doesn't help my typing.

This sucks, badly. The temperature feels like it's below zero, and it hasn't been snowing. Just raining. If it has to be cold, can't it snow?

It won't always be this way. A year from now, I won't have to deal with Layton weather. As it turns out, the three colleges I'm considering get loads of snow. *laughs* I'm even thinking about the weather conditions of those schools.

My future seems so unclear. I'm not really sure what I want to go into, most of what I have in mind isn't reasonable, because the job that it would get me really wouldn't pay enough for me to get by. I still have some time to make up my mind, right? All I know is that later on, I want to be able to live with making a living. I want to like what I'll end up doing. And screw the 'well, in time, if you just get married, your husband will take care of it'. I can't plan my life around that kind of variable, so I'm not going to chance it. I mean, I can't depend on a guess, it's something I don't know yet.

Yeah... I went off on a tangent again. The things I do to kill off time at lunch.

Sunday was weird. I was playing computer games, and I zoned out a bit. I looked down at the floor, and when I looked up, I completely forgot where I was. It took me a while to remember that I was in my room, on my computer.

Something like this happened about a year ago. I guess I should be freaked out, but I'm used to things that aren't normal by now. But that doesn't make it any less weird. Even normal human memory is weird enough.

I think everything had to fall apart before things could fall back into place.

I never thought that I would react this way. It's been easier since I've let go, because I don't feel like I have to find a way to fix something that can't be repaired.