this blog is set to the exact moment i turned eighteen.

i threw your keys in the water. i looked back, they'd frozen halfway down in the ice. they froze up so quickly, the keys and their owners. even after all the anger, it all turned silent and the everyday turned solitary, so we came to february. first we forgot where we planted those bulbs last year, then we forgot that we'd planted at all, then we forgot what plants are all together and i blamed you for my freezing and forgetting and the nights were long and cold and scary. can we live through february? you know, i think christmas was a long red glare, shot up like a warning. we gave presents without cards, and then the snow, and then the snow came. we were always out shoveling and we'd drop to sleep exhausted and we'd wake up and it's snowing. and february was so long that it lasted into march and found us walking a path alone together. you stopped and pointed and you said, "that's a crocus," and i said "what's a crocus?" and you said, "it's a flower." i tried to remember, but i said, "what's a flower?" you said, "i still love you." the leaves were turning as we drove to the hardware store. my new lover made me keys to the house and when we got home, well, we just started chopping wood because you never know how next year will be and we'll gather all our arms can carry. i have lost to february. -dar williams, "february," it's an amazing song, download it right now.

worst. mood. ever.

jet fuel and traffic lines, pulling up to the delta signs, distant shape of my hometown, black stain where the wheels touch down. i pick up the morning news, pass the man who's never shined my shoes, through security and to the train that will take me to the airplane. count the miles on the highway, the sum of all my days. there's a postcard, there's a call, there's a picture for your bedroom wall, but do you ever wonder through and through, who's that person standing next to you? and after all the nights apart, is there a home for a traveling heart? but if i weren't leaving you, i don't know what i would do, but the more i go, the less i know, will the fire still burn on my return? keep the path lit on the only road i know. honey, all i know to do is go. a cup of coffee and my bags are packed, the same vow not to look back. familiar emptiness inside as the distances grow wide, and though i vow to memorize the last look in your loving eyes, it's here dusk and there dawn, it's like a curtain getting slowly drawn. but if i weren't leaving you, i don't know what i would do, but the more i go, the less i know. will the fire still burn on my return? keep the path lit on the only road i know. honey, all i know to do is go. -indigo girls, "leaving," don't allow your curtain to be slowly drawn.

have you ever had a sneeze caught in your nose even after you've sneezed? story of my life.

if you haven't already done so, invest in a shower squeegee. seriously, it's the best investment you'll ever make.

suddenly, "bridge may be icy" has a whole new meaning ... on that same note, you know you've studied physics too long when you're careening out of control into someone's front lawn and you start to pray for a greater coefficient of static friction.

i was so high i did not recognize the fire burning in her eyes, the chaos that controlled my mind. whispered goodbye and she got on a plane never to return again, but always in my heart. this love has taken it's toll on me. she said goodbye too many times before and her heart is breaking in front of me. i have no choice 'cause i won't say goodbye anymore. i tried my best to feed her appetite, keep her coming every night, so hard to keep her satisfied. kept playing love like it was just a game, pretending to feel the same, then turn around and leave again. this love has taken it's toll on me. she said goodbye too many times before and her heart is breaking in front of me. i have no choice 'cause i won't say goodbye anymore. i'll fix these broken things, repair your broken wings, and make sure everything's alright. my pressure on your hips, sinking my fingertips into every inch of you 'cause i know that's what you want me to do. -maroon 5, "this love," i would recommend that you download this song, but it would be far superior to just buy the whole album. it rocks that much.

every idiot who walks about with "merry christmas" upon his lips should be boiled in his own pudding and buried with a stake of holly through his heart, he should.

today was the first day in many many months (it seems) that i didn't look. ha, i win. it's not the victory i wished for, but i win none the less.

confusion (because i don't understand), denial (because i don't want to understand), depression (because i've been forced to understand), anger (because i understand and i'm pissed), compulsive eating (because i love chocolate), impulse shopping (because every girl needs more nail polish), prowl (because i can). in that order.

first semester of college ... 4.00 gpa. seriously, i'm shocked, too. as one of my favorite hallmark cards says, ten years from now, no one will care what your gpa was.

here comes the cold. break out the winter clothes and find a love to call your own. you. enter you. your cheeks a shade of pink and the rest of you in powder blue. who knows what will be? but i'll make you this guarantee. no way november will see our goodbyes, when it comes to december it's obvious why. no one wants to be alone at christmas time. in the dark, on the phone, you tell me the names of your brothers, and your favorite colors. i'm learning you. and when it snows again, we'll take a walk outside and search the sky like children do. i'll say to you, no way november will see our goodbyes when it comes to december it's obvious why. no one wants to be alone at christmas time. come january, we're frozen inside, making new resolutions a hundred times. february, won't you be my valentine? and we'll both be safe till st. patrick's day. we should take a ride tonight around the town and look at all the beautiful houses. something in the way the blue lights on the black can make you feel more. everybody, it seems to me, just wants to be like you and me. no one wants to be alone at christmas time. come january we're frozen inside, making new resolutions a hundred times. february, won't you be my valentine? and if our always is all that we gave, and we someday take that away, i'll be alright, if it was just till st. patrick's day. -john mayer, "st. patrick's day," i do own a lot of powder blue, actually. and i have a tendency to make resolutions that i never keep over and over again.

i hate working but i like work. now, does that make any sense?

hold on, kids, it's gonna be a bumpy ride. isn't it always, though?

santa baby was good to me. he always is. i got dinner all over my new sweater, though. grandmother's addicted to sex, but i won trivial pursuit (being the only one with a college education). i've done about 50 fill-it-in puzzles over the course of the day ... i think that's a personal best.

so many twenty-fifths of december, just as many fourth of julys, and we're still holding it together. it only comes down to you and i. i know you can still remember things we said right from the start, when we said that this could be special. i'm keeping those words deep down in my heart. another year has gone by and i'm still the one by your side after every thing that's gone by. there's still no one saying goodbye though another year has gone by. i've never been much for occasions. you never let a birthday go by without announcing how much you love me, but the truth was always there, right there in your eyes. and we're still holding hands when we're walking, acting like we've only just met, but how can that be when there's so much history? i guess that's how true lovers can get. another year has gone by and i'm still the one by your side after every thing that's gone by. there's still no one saying goodbye though another year has gone by. -celine dion, "another year has gone by," sorry, in a mood.

go to the electric pickle. thought of you when i saw it. thanks megs.

finally i figured out, but it took a long long time. now there's a turn about, maybe 'cause i'm tryin'. there's been times, i'm so confused. all my roads, they lead to you. i just can't turn and walk away. it's hard to say what it is i see in you. wonder if i'll always be with you. words can't say it, i can't do enough to prove it's all for you. and i thought i'd seen it all, 'cause it's been a long long time, but i'll trip and fall. wonder if i'm alive. there's been times, i'm so confused. all my roads, they lead to you. just can't turn and walk away. it's hard to say what it is i see in you. wonder if i'll always be with you. words can't say it, i can't do enough to prove it's all for you. rain comes pouring down, falling from blue skies. words without a sound coming from your eyes. finally i figured out, but it took a long long time. now there's a turn about, maybe 'cause i'm trying. there's been times, i'm so confused. all my roads, they lead to you. just can't turn and walk away. it's hard to say what it is i see in you. wonder if i'll always be with you. words can't say it, i can't do enough to prove it's all for you. -sister hazel, "all for you," i usually don't go for songs as repetitive as this, but i heard it on the way home from work and i did one of those i-think-i'm-a-rock-star things and am now emotionally cleansed. p.s. matt, i hate it when you're right.

these trusting eyes trust no one.

me is pretty.

i've got to be honest, i think you know. we're covered in lies and that's okay, but somewhere beyond this i know, but i hope i can find the words to say. never again, no. no, never again. 'cause you're a god and i am not and i just thought that you would know. you're a god and i am not and i just thought i'd let you go. though i've been unable to put you down, i'm still learning things i ought to know by now. it's under the table, so i need something more to show, somehow. never again, no. no, never again. 'cause you're a god and i am not and i just thought that you would know. you're a god and i am not and i just thought i'd let you go. i've got to be honest, i think you know. we're covered in lies and that's okay, but somewhere beyond this i know, but i hope i can find the words to say. never again, no. no, never again. 'cause you're a god and i am not and i just thought that you would know. you're a god and i am not and i just thought i'd let you go. -vertical horizon, "you're a god," finally saw bruce almighty and now it's stuck in my head. such is life.

crash. burn. see if i care.

you've got your ball, you've got your chain tied to me tight, tie me up again. who's got their claws in you my friend? into your heart i'll beat again. sweet like candy to my soul, sweet you rock and sweet you roll. lost for you, i'm so lost for you. you come crash into me and i come into you, in a boy's dream. touch your lips just so i know. in your eyes love, it glows so. i'm bare-boned and crazy for you when you come crash into me and i come into you, in a boy's dream. if i've gone overboard, then i'm begging you to forgive me, in my haste. when i'm holding you so girl, close to me. and you come crash into me baby, and i come into you. hike up your skirt a little more and show your world to me. in a boy's dream. i watch you there through the window and i stare at you. you wear nothing but you wear it so well. tied up and twisted, the way i'd like to be for you, for me, come crash into me. crash into me. i'm king of the castle, you're the dirty rascal, crash into me baby. i am swimming in your seas and in your ocean and i feel your waves come and crash into me. yes, i see the waves come crash into me. yes, i feel the waves come crash into me. crash into me, come crash into me. -dave matthews band, "crash into me," can't quite seem to get enough.

there is nothing more sinful than a girl like me wearing a cross around her neck. once again, something happens to the necklace (i left it somewhere), the shit hits the fan. honestly, though, it does explain the events of the past few months.

for two hours and thirty-five minutes, she has been waiting, watching that car outside the diner. she spent six years with the man who drives it, but hasn't talked to him in two. except he doesn't know she's waiting. if he did, he'd run over and tell her that the last two years were the worst of his life. at 11:52, a waiter drops a tray of dishes and she helps him pick up the pieces. at 11:53, she looks out the window and the car is gone. two years ago, he wasn't into fast cars.

cursed is the man who has faith in man.

to cure the soul by means of the senses, and the senses by means of the soul.

to influence a person is to give him one's own soul. he becomes an echo of someone else's music, an actor of a part that has not been written for him.

always! that is a dreadful word. women are so fond of using it. they spoil every romance by trying to make it last forever.

i don't think i am likely to marry. i am too much in love.

faithfulness is to the emotional life what consistency is to the life of the intellect -- simply a confession of failure.

i've just finished telling myself that it's not going to happen ever again, that it's over, that i'm done with this bullshit. i'm randomly folding jeans at work and all of a sudden ... bounce. here we go again. it's so similar, it's scary ... same mindset, same situation, same stupid giggle. oh, god.

forever ends now.

drove downtown in the rain, nine-thirty on a tuesday night, just to check out the late-night record shop. call it impulsive, call it compulsive, call it insane. when i'm surrounded, i just can't stop. it's a matter of instinct, it's a matter of conditioning, it's a matter of fact. you can call me pavlov's dog. ring a bell and i'll salivate, how'd you like that? dr. landy tell me you're not just a pedagogue, 'cause right now i'm lying in bed, just like brain wilson did. well, i'm lying in bed just like brian wilson did. so i'm lying here, just staring at the ceiling tiles and i'm thinking about what to think about, just listening and relistening to smiley smile and i'm wondering if this is some kind of creative drought, because i'm lying in bed just like brian wilson did. well, i'm lying in bed just like brian wilson did. and if you want to find me, i'll be out in the sandbox wondering where the hell all the love has gone, playing my guitar and building castles in the sun and singing fun fun fun. lying in bed just like brian wilson did, well i'm lying in bed just like brian wilson did. i had a dream that i was three hundred pounds, and though i was very heavy, i floated till i couldn't see the ground. somebody help me i couldn't see the ground, somebody help me because i'm lying in bed just like brian wilson did. lying in bed just like brian wilson did. drove downtown in the rain, nine-thirty on a tuesday night, just to check out the late-night record shop. call it impulsive, call it compulsive, call it insane. when i'm surrounded, i just can't stop. -barenaked ladies, "brian wilson," i kinda wish we had a late-night record shop.

nowhere and everywhere at the same time. how is that even possible? oh, this is bad, this is so many kinds of bad. and all i am is uncomfortable about the whole thing. on edge, holding my breath, doing everything in my power not to boil over. buckle up, one more day. wow ... that sounds so random if you're not in my head.

forget it, forget everything i just said. wrong as usual.

i want a man who plays guitar, sings like barry carl, and ... well, that's all i can think of at the moment. the end.

i don't want to be the filler if the void is solely yours. i don't want to be your glass of single malt whiskey hidden in the bottom drawer. i don't want to be the bandage if the wound is not mine. lend me some fresh air. i don't want to be adored for what i merely represent to you. i don't want to be your babysitter, you're a very big boy now. i don't want to be your mother, i didn't carry you in my womb for nine months. show me the back door. visiting hours are nine to five and if i show up at ten past six, well i already know that you'd find some way to sneak me in and mind the empty bottle with the holes along the bottom. you see, it's too much to ask for and i am not the doctor. i don't want to be the sweeper of the eggshells that you walk upon. i don't want to be your other half, i believe that one and one make two. i don't want to be your food or the light from the fridge on your face at midnight, hey, what are you hungry for? i don't want to be the glue that holds your pieces together. i don't want to be your idol, see this pedestal is high and i'm afraid of heights. i don't want to be lived through a vicarious occasion. please open the window. visiting hours are nine to five and if i show up at ten past six, well i already know that you'd find some way to sneak me in and mind the empty bottle with the holes along the bottom. you see, it's too much to ask for and i am not the doctor. i don't want to live on someday when my motto is last week. i don't want to be responsible for your fractured heart and it's wounded beat. i don't want to be a substitute for the smoke you've been inhaling. well, what do you thank me for? visiting hours are nine to five and if i show up at ten past six, well i already know that you'd find some way to sneak me in and mind the empty bottle with the holes along the bottom. you see, it's too much to ask for and i am not the doctor. -alanis morissette, "not the doctor," damn straight.

have i mentioned lately that i'm a loser? seriously, the biggest loser on the planet.

excuse me while i flip out ... okay, better now.

wenn ich dir nach hause folgen würde, würdest du mir behalfen?

get a load of me, get a load of you, walking down the street and i hardly know you. it's just like we were meant to be. holding hands with you when we're out at night. got a girlfriend, you say it isn't right, and i've got someone waiting too. the problem is, this is just the beginning. we're already wet and we're gonna go swimming. why can't i breathe whenever i think about you? why can't i speak whenever i talk about you? it's inevitable, it's a fact that we're gonna get down to it, so tell me, why can't i breathe whenever i think about you? isn't this the best part of breaking up? finding someone else you can't get enough of, someone who wants to be with you too. it's an itch we know we are gonna scratch, gonna take a while for this egg to hatch, but wouldn't it be beautiful? here we are, we're at the beginning. we haven't fucked yet, but my head's spinning. why can't i breathe whenever i think about you? why can't i speak whenever i talk about you? it's inevitable, it's a fact that we're gonna get down to it, so tell me, why can't i breathe whenever i think about you? i'd love for you to make me wonder where it's going. i'd love for you to pull me under. something's growing. for this that we can control, baby i am dying. why can't i breathe whenever i think about you? why can't i speak whenever i talk about you? it's inevitable, it's a fact that we're gonna get down to it, so tell me, why can't i breathe whenever i think about you? liz phair, "why can't i," maybe i just need an inhaler or something.

will he see me tomorrow? honey, i intend on throwing myself at him mercilessly until he at least says hello ... if he doesn't see me, he must be blind.

an unidentified male called my house twice when i was out at the mall ... he didn't leave his name and i have no idea who it was. was it you? if so, please let me know, i'm starting to go crazy thinking i might have a stalker or something ... oooh, that could be kind of neat, on the other hand.

therefore, i am not the pop-pop. thanks daddy.

my favorite person in the entire world works at walmart. her name is jammie and i love her. hmm.

well, i don't think i can handle this, a cloudy day in metropolis. i think i'll talk to my analyst, i've got it so bad for this little journalist. it drives me up the wall and through the roof, lois and clark in a telephone booth. i think i'm going out of my brain. i've got it so bad for little miss lois lane. lois lane, please put me in your plan. yeah lois lane, you don't need no superman. come on downtown and stay with me tonight, i got a pocket full of kryptonite. he's leaping buildings in a single bound, i'm reading shakespeare in my place downtown. come on downtown and make love to me. i'm jimmy olsen, not a titan you see. he's faster than a bullet, stronger than a train. he's the one who got lucky, got his cape around miss lois lane. i can't believe my dilemma is real. i'm competing with the man of steel. lois lane, please put me in your plan. yeah lois lane, you don't need no superman. come on downtown and stay with me tonight, i got a pocket full of kryptonite. -spin doctors, "jimmy olsen blues," come on downtown, baby.

let me know if anyone hits on you, okay ... i need some fuel for lifting and if one thing leads to another, i'll come home to knock somebody's lights out. i love my scotty. p.s. don't let that stop you from hitting on me, now, a girl needs to get her self-esteem boost somewhere.

but then, two weeks before my trip up, the entire usa went under code orange on the terrorist warning level. so, my hopes and dreams were smashed because of some dickhead trying to blow up america. thanks joey.

bouncy bouncy bouncy bounce ... i'm the happiest little walmart employee alive.

if there's a way that you could be everything you want to be, would you complain that it came too easy? just like the games with you and me, a resolution hard to see, but that's okay 'cause i don't see things that are plain to see. i've got a dream to take you over, exploding like a supernova. i'm gonna crash into your world and that's no lie. you want to give ecstasy delivered with certainty, but you're afraid the pleasure won't be needed. in a way, we're the same two people looking out to sea for a wave that would carry all our fantasies. if there's a way to infiltrate you, sway your mind and complicate you, i'm gonna crash into your world, and that's no lie. let your body move into the doorway, to the disco inside your head. wear a color that you want to cling to, the color inside your head. contemplate jealousy intermixed with urgency. a million things take a damned good shot at you and me. if there's a way to infiltrate you, sway your mind and complicate you, i'm gonna crash into your world, and that's no lie. let your body move into the doorway, to the disco inside your head. wear a color that you want to cling to, the color inside your head. i'm gonna take you, i'll do my best to break you, i'm gonna take you higher, and that's no lie. common sense is a game many people don't like to play, but give it in and the moment takes you either way. i've got a dream to take you over, exploding like a supernova. i'm gonna crash into your world and that's no lie. let your body move into the doorway, to the disco inside your head. wear a color that you want to cling to, the color inside your head. if there's a way that you could be everything you want to be, would you complain that it came too easy? -savage garden, "violet," just so happens to be my favorite color and a really great song.

oh ... my ... goodness. if i had just a little more caffeine in me, i'd be dancing around the room like a crazy person. i'm simply that jumpy.

i get the best feeling in the world when you say hi or even smile at me because i know, even if it's just for a second, that i've crossed your mind.

pringles for breakfast ... i'm a genius.

i would swallow my pride, i would choke on the rind, but the lack thereof would leave me empty inside. i would swallow my doubt, turn it inside out, find nothing but faith in nothing. want to put my tender heart in a blender, watch it spin around to a beautiful oblivion. rendezvous, then i'm through with you. i burn burn like a wicker cabinet, chalk white and oh so frail. i see our time has gotten stale. the tick tock of the clock is painful, all sane and logical. i want to tear it off the wall. i hear words in clips and phrases, i think sick like ginger ale, my stomach turns and i exhale. i would swallow my pride, i would choke on the rind, but the lack thereof would leave me empty inside. i would swallow my doubt, turn it inside out, find nothing but faith in nothing. want to put my tender heart in a blender, watch it spin around to a beautiful oblivion. rendezvous, then i'm through with you. so cal is where my mind states, but it's not my state of mind. i'm not as ugly sad as you. or am i origami, folded up and just pretend, demented as the motives in your head? i would swallow my pride, i would choke on the rind, but the lack thereof would leave me empty inside. i would swallow my doubt, turn it inside out, find nothing but faith in nothing. want to put my tender heart in a blender, watch it spin around to a beautiful oblivion. rendezvous, then i'm through with you. i alone and the one you don't know you need, take heed, feed your ego. make me blind when your eyes close, sink when you get close, tie me to the bedpost. i alone am the one you don't know you need, you don't know you need me. make me blind when your eyes close, tie me to the bedpost. i would swallow my pride, i would choke on the rind, but the lack thereof would leave me empty inside. i would swallow my doubt, turn it inside out, find nothing but faith in nothing. want to put my tender heart in a blender, watch it spin around to a beautiful oblivion. rendezvous, then i'm through with you. -eve 6, "inside out," mad crazy band trip memories.

there is nothing, and i mean absolutely nothing to describe it. nothing. for one of the first times in my life, i have no words. none. of course, i'll try anyway. better yet, i'll steal the words from someone else.

was it you who spoke the words that things would happen but not to me? things are gonna happen naturally. taking your advice, i'm looking on the bright side and balancing the whole thing. but often times, those words get tangled up in lines and the bright light turns to night until the dawn. it brings a little bird who'll sing about the magic that was you and me. 'cause you and i both loved what you and i spoke of and others only read of, others only dream of the love, oh the love that i loved. see, i'm all about them words over numbers, unencumbered numbered words, hundreds of pages, pages, pages forward. more words than i had ever heard and i feel so alive. then you and i, you and i, not so little you and i anymore, and with this silence brings a moral story, more importantly evolving is the glory of a boy. 'cause you and i both loved what you and i spoke of and others just read of and if you could see me now, well then, i'm almost finally out of, i'm finally out of, finally, well i'm almost finally, finally. well i am free, free, free. and it's okay if you had to go away, just remember the telephone, well, they're working it both ways and if i ever hear it ring, if nothing else, i'll think the bells inside have finally found you someone else. and that's okay, 'cause i'll remember everything you sang. 'cause you and i both loved what you and i spoke of and others just read of and if you could see now, well then, i'm already finally out of, i'm finally out of, finally. well, i'm almost finally, finally out of words. -jason mraz, "you and i both," amen, i'm out of words too.

i'm scared.

look around your world pretty baby, is it everything you hoped it would be? the wrong guy, the wrong situation, the right time to roll to me. look into your heart pretty baby, is it aching with some nameless need? is there something wrong and you can't put your finger on it? right then, roll to me. and i don't think i have ever seen a soul so in despair, so if you want to talk the night through, guess who will be there. so don't try to deny it pretty baby, you've been down so long you can hardly see. when the engine's stalled and it won't stop raining it's the right time to roll to me. look around your world pretty baby, is it everything you hoped it would be? the wrong guy, the wrong situation, the right time to roll to me. -del amitri, "roll to me," another one of those things that came on the radio at just the right time and left me screaming at the top of my lungs in my own little quasi-driving world. that, and i've been called pretty a lot lately, so it fits.

if i could save time in a bottle, the first thing that i'd like to do is to save every day till eternity passes away just to spend them with you. if i could make days last forever, if words could make wishes come true, i'd save every day like a treasure and then, again, i would spend them with you. but there never seems to be enough time to do the things you wanna do once you find them. i've looked around enough to know you're the one i wanna go through time with. if i had a box just for wishes and dreams that had never come true, the box would be empty except for the memory of how they were answered by you. but there never seems to be enough time to do the things you wanna do once you find them. i've looked around enough to know you're the one i wanna go through time with. -jim croce, "time in a bottle," thursday should be eight days a week.

first day, second semester. yeah, weight training, that almost sounds like a good idea. my feet hurt, my head hurts, my shoulders ache, and i'm freakin' exhausted. give it time, it'll be over before you know it ... something like that anyway. at least i'll get a chance to talk to meg now. missed my meg and our coffee talks.

the membrane of a drum, as it vibrates, alternately compresses the air and then as it recedes leaves a rarefaction or expansion of air . . . the other natural frequencies are called overtones; when they are integral multiples of the fundamental (as they are for simple string), they are also called harmonics, with the fundamental being referred to as the first harmonic. the next mode after the fundamental has two loops and is called the second harmonic (or first overtone). proving that drummers are only making noise, not music, and therefore are not musicians unless they spread their wings into the realm of wind or string instruments. ha.

the drummers can't find two! vintage fuzzy book.

speed of light in diamonds <> shininess > colorliness > other stuff, and thus jammie is a lonely brain cell's favorite pastime.

my newest favorite bad habit: writing in my dumb weblog when i could be doing something productive, like homework. ah, well, this is why they give us an hour for lunch at walmart. two down, one to go for the day, english is all i have left. i'm not particularly worried about any of my classes this semester, except calculus, i guess. that's kinda spooky, considering i stared at my unit circle for about thirty minutes last night like it was written in some foreign language. if i was smart, i would have looked in the trig review packet that the teacher gave us, but noooo, i wanted to figure it out on my own. that's what i get for listening to my brain. this week has been really great, aside from the fact that i'm gonna have to start working out. such bullshit. all in all, though, i like school, i like my job, i have great friends, and a fabulous boyfriend ... so, life is good.

and so it came to pass, when she pressed him daily with her words, and urged him, so that his soul was vexed unto death; that he told her all his heart ... judges 16:16.

ninety miles outside chicago, can't stop driving, i don't know why. so many questions, i need an answer, two years later you're still on my mind. whatever happened to amelia earhart? who holds the stars up in the sky? is true love once just once in a lifetime? did the captain of the titanic cry? someday we'll know if love can move a mountain, someday we'll know why the sky is blue, someday we'll know why i wasn't meant for you. does anybody know the way to atlantis or what the wind says when she cries? i'm speeding by the place that i met you for the ninety-seventh time tonight. someday we'll know if love can move a mountain, someday we'll know why the sky is blue, someday we'll know why i wasn't meant for you. someday we'll know why samson loved delilah, one day i'll go dancing on the moon, someday you'll know that i was the one for you. i bought a ticket to the end of the rainbow, i watched the stars crash in the sea. if i could ask god just one question, why aren't you here with me tonight? someday we'll know if love can move a mountain, someday we'll know why the sky is blue, someday we'll know why i wasn't meant for you. -new radicals, "someday we'll know," on a sidebar, i'm naming one of my daughters delilah.

whispered from my heart and soul to my unwilling eyes, lift my vision from the ground, lift it to the sky. skies, they used to be so ugly, rains that sting my face, opens up their glory, just earth and sky and space. and your passionate embraces absolve me of my sin, your life lifts me up so i can see the sky again. and i've lived through all the flash fire set off like lightning spark. yes, they burn so brightly and oh, they burn so hot. these fantasies of all our love tearing at the ground, wrapped up in the vortex of sweat and sex and sound. and your passionate embraces absolve me of my sin, your life lifts me up so i can see the sky again. hide me from the love i'm to scared to send, hide me till i see the sky again. edwin mccain, "see the sky again," no comment.

i know more than a few people who deserve a swift kick in the rear right about now ... grr.

what do you mean, "crazy?!"

take it off, put it on, take it off, put it on ... yeah, put it on.

Winter is my least favorite season. I hate cold weather and snow, but I love hot chocolate. When I have a fever, I become quite delirious and have crazy dreams and cravings for things such as Cheetos and chocolate milk. I have some friends -- enough to lose track of sometimes, but not enough to make me popular. I would not like being popular very much. I would much rather keep my little group of friends and stay a loser. I consider myself to be addicted to open-toed footwear, colorful pens and markers, Tetris, comfortable jeans, Hallmark greeting cards, reality TV, hugs from anyone, and nail polish. Especially nail polish. I actually eat school lunch every day and, believe it or not, I am still alive. I hate participating in arguments, but I love watching them. I would never dye my own hair, but I encourage others to do so. I always listen to CDs on the "shuffle" setting instead of listening straight through. When I was little, I had recurring dreams. I dreamt my mother turned into an alligator and ate me. I am willing to baby-sit your kids, just don't ask me to have any of my own. I hate people who tell you that their problems are worse than your own. I also hate substitute teachers, eating in a cafeteria, grape-flavored candy, StoveTop stuffing, baked potatoes, and AP tests of any kind. I think I have had nightmares regarding all of the aforementioned topics. I am an emetophobic, meaning that I have an unnatural fear of vomit. I often wish I had a normal fear, like spiders or heights or something. Every time I think that, though, I realize that I should really be wishing for no fear at all. I think Douglas Adams is the world’s greatest author and should have lived forever. I do not enjoy the Lord of the Rings or Star Wars movies, but I will watch them if you have already rented them. I do not like driving, but I dislike taking the bus even more. I think I am a really terrible driver, but I have managed to get from point A to point B without having a single accident. My car has a name. We call it "The Chev." I can fold a piece of paper to resemble a crane or a box. I can say the alphabet backwards in one breath. I find great joy in hearing a song on the radio and knowing all the words. Unfortunately, this does not happen often enough. Much to my dismay, chewing gum makes my jaw lock up. I think instead of buying the world a Coke, we should buy it bubble wrap. In fact, I think we should send all of the evil leaders of the world to a room full of bubble wrap and let them pop their anger away. Ben & Jerry's ice cream should be sold in two-gallon tubs at my local grocery store. I think Don's Dandy Dogs should become a worldwide franchise. More people should listen to Rockapella. If you already listen to Rockapella, I will marry anyone who can sing like Barry Carl. I need to use a mirror to put on chapstick. I pretend not to like roller coasters and I don't know why because I really do like them a lot. I experience feelings of perpetual guilt during PBS pledge week. I do not believe in the "three strikes, you're out" method of discipline. You only get one strike in my stadium. I think candy apples should be around more often than Halloween. The same goes for candy corn. When I was in elementary school, I dreaded riding the bus so much, that my parents bought me a Walkman to listen to in an attempt to keep my mind off of it. Being only in second grade, I did not listen to a lot of music, so my dad went to the music store and bought the first tape that looked appealing to him in the "pop music" section. It was an album by the Spin Doctors titled "Pocket Full of Kryptonite." I memorized every word to every track on that tape and a song called "Jimmy Olsen Blues" called to me and became my theme song all through elementary school. I often wonder what happened to the Spin Doctors. Every day, I surpass my own record for the number of consecutive days I've stayed alive. That which does not kill me only postpones the inevitable. fowler made me do it.

no, no, please no, not again.

what are clouds but an excuse for the sky? what is life but an escape from death?

no school ... listening to the joyful sounds of my sibs kicking the crap out of each other ... simultaneously listening to the radio play junk i don't want to hear. i want to go out and play in the snow. if only it was warmer ... i guess that defeats the purpose, though.

i'm packed and i'm holding, i'm smiling, she's living, she's golden, she lives for me, she says she lives for me. ovation, her own motivation, she comes 'round and she goes down on me and i make her smile like a drug for you. do ever what you want to do coming over you. keep on smiling, what we go through. one stop to the rhythm that divides you. and i speak to you like the chorus to the verse, drop another line like a coda with a curse. and i come on like a freak show takes the stage, we give them the games we play. she said, "i want something else to get me through this semi-charmed kind of life, baby, i want something else." i'm not listening when you say goodbye. the sky was gold, it was rose, i was taking sips of it through my nose and i wish i could get back there, some place back there, smiling in the pictures you would take. doing crystal meth will lift you up until you break. it won't stop, i won't come down, i keep stock with a tick-tock rhythm and a bump for the drop and then i bumped up, i took the hit that i was given, then i bumped again, and then i bumped again. i said, how do i get back there to the place where i fell asleep inside you? how do i get myself back to the place where you said, "i want something else to get me through this semi-charmed kind of life, baby, i want something else?" i'm not listening when you say goodbye. i believe in the sand beneath my toes, the beach gives a feeling, an earthy feeling. i believe in the faith that grows. and the four right chords can make me cry. when i'm with you i feel like i could die and that would be alright, alright. when the plane came in, she said she was crashing. the velvet it rips in the city. we tripped on the urge to feel alive, but now i'm struggling to survive. those days you were wearing that velvet dress, you're the priestess, i must confess. those little red panties, they pass the test, slide up around the belly, face down on the mattress. one, and you hold me, and we are broken. still it's all that i want to do, just a little now. feel myself head made underground, i'm scared i'm not coming down and i won't run for my life. she's got her jaws just locked now in a smile, but nothing is alright, alright. and i want something else to get me through this life, baby. and i want something else, i'm not listening when you say goodbye. -third eye blind, "semi-charmed life," he speaks to me like the chorus to the verse ... the four right chords will make me cry. ignore the bit about being hooked on drugs, though.

let her be. so all that is in her will not bloom -- but in how many does it? there is still enough left to live by. only help her to know -- help make it so there is cause for her to know -- that she is more than this dress on the ironing board, helpless before the iron.

hexic addicts anonymous.

life is not a dress rehearsal.

she stood among the swaying crowd in the station at the north wall. he held her hand and she knew that he was speaking to her, saying something about the passage over and over again. the station was full of soldiers with brown baggages. through the wide doors of the sheds she caught a glimpse of the black mass of the boat, lying in beside the quay wall, with illumined portholes. she answered nothing. she felt her cheek pale and cold and, out of a maze of distress, she prayed to god to direct her ... the boat blew a long mournful whistle into the mist. if she went, tomorrow she would be on the sea with frank, steaming towards buenos ayres. this passage had been booked. could she still draw back after all he had done for her? her distress awake a nausea in her body and she kept moving her lips in silent fervent prayer. a bell clanged upon her heart. she felt him seize her hand: "come!" all the seas of the world tumbled about her heart. he was drawing her into them: he would drown her. she griped with both hands at the iron railing. "come!" no! no! no! it was impossible. her hands clutched the iron in frenzy. amid the seas she sent a cry of anguish ... he rushed beyond the barrier and called to her to follow. he was shouted at to go on but he still called to her. she set her white face to him, passive, like a helpless animal. her eyes gave him no sign of love or farewell or recognition.

baby's black balloon makes her fly. i almost fell into that hole in your life and you're not thinking about tomorrow, 'cause you were the same as me, but on your knees. a thousand other boys could never reach you. how could i have been the one? i saw the world spin beneath you and scatter like ice from the spoon. that was your womb. comin' down, the world turned over, and angels fall without you there, and i go on as you get colder, or are you someone's prayer? you know the lies they always told you and the love you never knew. what's the things they never showed you that swallowed the light from the sun inside your room? comin' down, the world turned over, and angels fall without you there, and i go on as you get colder. always someone. and there's no time left for losin'. when you stand, they fall. comin' down, the world turned over, and angels fall without you there, and i go on as you get colder all because i'm comin' down, the years turn over, and angels fall without you there, and i'll go on and lead you home all because i'm, i'll become what you became to me. -goo goo dolls, "black balloon," how could he have been the one?

every time i look, i still can't believe it's happening.

butterflies!

i am sitting in the morning at the diner on the corner. i am waiting at the counter for the man to pour the coffee, and he fills it only halfway and before i even argue, he is looking out the window at somebody coming in. "it is always nice to see you," says the man behind the counter to a woman who has come in. she is shaking her umbrella, and i look the other way as they are kissing their hellos. i'm pretending not to see them, so instead i pour the milk. i open up the paper. there's a story of an actor who had died while he was drinking. it was no one i had heard of, and i'm turning to the horoscope and looking for the funnies when i'm feeling someone watching me, and so i raise my head. there's a woman on the outside looking inside. does she see me? no, she does not really see me, 'cause she sees her own reflection, and i'm trying not to notice that she's hitching up her skirt and while she's straightening her stockings, her hair is getting wet. this rain it will continue through the morning as i'm listening to the bells of the cathedral. i am thinking of your voice and of the midnight picnic, once upon a time, before the rain began. i finish up my coffee. it's time to catch the train. -suzanne vega, "tom's diner," perpetually on the outside looking inside.

nothin' like gaudy, plastic, twenty-five cent jewelry to brighten your day.

it's nine o'clock on a saturday. the regular crowd shuffles in. there's an old man sitting next to me, making love to his tonic and gin. he says, "son, can you play me a melody? i'm not really sure how it goes, but it's sad and it's sweet and i knew it complete when i wore a younger man's clothes." sing us a song, you're the piano man. sing us a song tonight. well, we're all the mood for a melody and you've got us feelin' alright. now john at the bar is a friend of mine. he gets me my drinks for free, and he's quick with a joke or to light up your smoke, but there's someplace that he'd rather be. he says, "bill, i believe this is killing me," as a smile ran away from his face, "well, i'm sure that i could be a movie star if i could get out of this place." now paul is a real estate novelist who never had time for a wife, and he's talkin' with davy who's still in the navy and probably will be for life. and the waitress is practicing politics as the businessmen slowly get stoned. yes, they're sharing a drink they call loneliness, but it's better than drinking alone. sing us a song, you're the piano man. sing us a song tonight. well, we're all the mood for a melody and you've got us feelin' alright. it's a pretty good crowd for a saturday and the manager gives me a smile, 'cause he knows that it's me they've been comin' to see to forget about life for a while. and the piano sounds like a carnival and the microphone smells like a beer, and they sit at the bar and put bread in my jar and say, "man, what are you doin' here?" sing us a song, you're the piano man. sing us a song tonight. well, we're all the mood for a melody and you've got us feelin' alright. -billy joel, "piano man," let's all forget about life for a while.

i have control over nothing ... it's funny, because just about the time you start thinking you have everything under control, it all goes to pieces.

i took my love, i took it down, climbed a mountain and i turned around and i saw my reflection in the snow covered hills till the landslide brought it down. oh, mirror in the sky, what is love? can the child within my heart rise above? can i sail through the changing ocean tides? can i handle the seasons of my life? i don't know. well, i've been afraid of changin', 'cause i've built my life around you, but time makes you bolder, children get older and i'm getting older too. oh, take my love, take it down, climb a mountain and turn around and if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills, well the landslide will bring it down. fleetwood mac, "landslide," can you handle the seasons of your life? i know i can't.

nothing in the world feels quite as good as knowing more than and older man. in case you were wondering, i took him to school on that calc quiz.

i'm so tired of being here, suppressed by all my childish fears and if you have to leave, i wish that you would just leave, 'cause your presence still lingers here and it won't leave me alone. these wounds won't seem to heal. this pain is just too real. there's just too much that time cannot erase. when you cried, i'd wipe away all of your tears. when you screamed, i'd fight away all of your fears and i held your hand through all of these years, but you still have all of me. you used to captivate me by your resonating mind. now, i'm bound by the life you left behind. your face, it haunts my once pleasant dreams. your voice, it chased away all the sanity in me. these wounds won't seem to heal. this pain is just too real. there's just too much that time cannot erase. when you cried, i'd wipe away all of your tears. when you screamed, i'd fight away all of your fears and i held your hand through all of these years, but you still have all of me. i've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone, but though you're still with me, i've been alone all along. when you cried, i'd wipe away all of your tears. when you screamed, i'd fight away all of your fears and i held your hand through all of these years, but you still have all of me. -evanescence, "my immortal," interpret it as you will.

i have here a demonstration pile driver. you would understand why i find this so hilarious if you would have seen the crazed look in my physics professor's eyes as she triggered the mini-guillotine and the wood blocks cracked together. it was awesome.

that's great, it starts with an earthquake, birds and snakes, an aeroplane and lenny bruce is not afraid. eye of a hurricane, listen to yourself churn, world serves it's own needs, dummy serve your own needs. feed it off and aux speak, grunt, no strength, the ladder start to clatter with fear fight down height. wire in a fire, representing seven games, and a government for hire at a combat site. left of west and coming in a hurry with the furies breathing down your neck. team by team, reporters baffled, trumped, tethered, cropped. look at that low playing. fine, then. uh-oh, overflow, population, common food, but it'll do to save yourself, serve yourself. world serves it's own needs, listen to your heart bleed, dummy. with the rapture and the revered and the right, right. you vitriolic, patriotic, slam, fight, bright light, feeling pretty psyched. it's the end of the world as we know it, it's the end of the world as we know it, it's the end of the world as we know it, and i feel fine. six o'clock, tv hour. don't get caught in foreign towers. slash and burn, return, listen to yourself churn. lock it it, uniforming, book burning, blood letting every motive escalate, automotive incinerate. light a candle, light a motive. step down, step down, watch your heel crush, crushed. uh-oh, this means no fear, cavalier, renegade, steer clear. a tournament, tournament, tournament of lies. offer me solutions, offer me alternatives, and i decline. it's the end of the world as we know it, it's the end of the world as we know it, it's the end of the world as we know it, and i feel fine. the other night i dreamt of knives, continental drift divide, mountains sit in a line. leonard bernstein, leonid brezhnev, lenny bruce, and lester bangs. birthday party, cheese cake, jelly bean, boom. you symbiotic, patriotic, slam bug net, right? right. it's the end of the world as we know it, it's the end of the world as we know it, it's the end of the world as we know it, and i feel fine. -rem, "it's the end of the world," slam, fight, bright light, feeling pretty psyched.

i'm fifteen for a moment, caught in between ten and twenty and i'm just dreaming, counting the ways to where you are. i'm twenty-two for a moment. she feels better than ever and we're on fire, making our way back from mars. fifteen, there's still time for you, time to buy and time to lose. fifteen, there's never a wish better than this when you've only got one hundred years to live. i'm thirty-three for a moment. still the man, but you see i'm a they, a kid on the way, a family on my mind. i'm forty-five for a moment. the sea is high and i'm heading into a crisis, chasing the years of my life. fifteen, there's still time for you, time to buy and time to lose yourself within a morning star. fifteen, i'm alright with you. fifteen, there's never a wish better than this when you've only got one hundred years to live. half time goes by, suddenly you're wise. another blink of an eye, sixty-seven is gone, the sun is getting high, we're moving on. i'm ninety-nine for a moment, dying for just another moment and i'm just dreaming, counting the ways to where you are. fifteen, there's still time for you. twenty-two, i feel her too. thirty-three, you're on your way, every day's a new day. fifteen, there's still time for you, time to buy and time to choose. hey fifteen, there's never a wish better than this when you've only got one hundred years to live. -five for fighting, "one hundred years," mortality's a bitch.

the millions are awake enough for physical labor; but only one in a million is awake enough for effective intellectual exertion, only one in a hundred million to a poetic or divine life. to be awake is to be alive.

he held her close, anxiously, afraid that her weightless little body would vanish. sometimes i wonder if that's what they're actually thinking.

if you love something, let it go. if it doesn't come back, hunt it down and kill it.

when this old world starts getting me down and people are just too much for me to face, i'm gonna climb way up to the top of the stairs, and all my cares just drift right into space. on the roof it's peaceful as can be, and there the world below can't bother me. let me tell you now, when i come home feelin' tired and beat, i go up where the air is fresh and sweet. i get away from the hustling crowd and all that rat race noise down in the street. on the roof, the only place i know where you just have to wish to make it so. let's go up on the roof. at night, the stars put on a show for free and darling, you can share it all with me. i keep on telling you, right smack dab in the middle of town, i've found a paradise that's trouble proof, and if this world starts getting you down, there's room enough for two up on the roof. up on the roof, oh come on baby, oh come on honey, everything is alright. -the drifters, "up on the roof," classic.

it's alright ... i don't mind if you don't mind.

for those of you who care (which is probably no one), we got new furniture last night ... it's alright i guess, better than the old couch, but now there's no recliner upstairs. this saddens me. the deck is covered with ice and school's closed, which figures because i don't have class on friday. i don't think i want to go in to work, either. i don't want to do anything except maybe relive yesterday. well, not all of yesterday, just certain parts.

you said you liked them so ... random quotes about you!

didn't hear a tone, are you, hello? i never hear a tone, i guess you know. i can't remember what i called to say, i thought you might be home on saturday. i really can't believe it's been a year, it took a little time without you here. i'm guessing you survived alone somehow. it's good that i can joke about it now. i still avoid the park at christopher, never wanna feel the way we were, unless i'm in a hurry for that train and that's the only newsstand open late. people change everyday, change like you. i got all the time in the world. people cry all the time, cry like me. we got all the time in the world. it's been so long that no one even asks and everybody's walkin' on the grass, grass that took a while to reappear. i'd forgotten green without you here. christmas came and went upon this bench, tryin' to justify what made no sense. now the ivy's overrun the tears, but it could never hide what happened here. people change everyday, change like you. i got all the time in the world. people cry all the time, cry like me. we got all the time in the world. fillin' in the conversation by myself, fillin' in the reason why you leave me, thinkin' back, the hope we had was more than mine. i know it makes sense to you, just make it make sense to me. maybe i'm alive beneath the snow, maybe you're to petrified to know. i can't believe that you would tell me lies. how could i have missed that in those eyes? maybe if i only heard your voice, i would understand you had no choice. though i'm glad it's clear for you to see, i wish that you could make it make sense to me. people cry all the time, cry like me. we got all the time in the world. flowin' in and out your life, by tomorrow mornin', flowin' in and out my life. -rockapella, "people change," i think i have forgotten green.

i hope this isn't starting a trend. jason, in regards to thursdays.

it is perfectly monstrous, the way people go about nowadays saying things against one's back that are absolutely and entirely true.

seen on a package of men's bikinis ... as if that didn't make me cringe enough: minimum coverage for maximum freedom.

sometimes you can't think about painful things, you can't make your mind focus on them. your brain just slips away, no thank you, let's change the subject.

once upon a midnight dreary i woke with something in my head. i couldn't escape the memory of a phone call and what you said. like a game show contestant with a parting gift, i could not believe my eyes when i saw through the voice of a trusted friend who needs to humor me and tell me lies. and i'll like to and say i don't mind, and as we seek so shall we find, and when you're feeling open i'll still be here, but not without a certain degree of fear of what will be with you and me. i still can see things hopefully. but you, why you wanna give me a run around? is it a sure fire way to speed things up when all it does is slow me down? shake me and my confidence about a great many things, but i've been there, i can see it cower like a nervous magician waiting in the wings of a bad play where the heroes are right and nobody thinks or expects too much, and hollywood's calling for the movie rights, singing, "hey babe, let's keep in touch." but i want more than a touch. i want you to reach me and show me all the things no one else can see. so what you feel becomes mine as well and soon if we're lucky we'd be unable to tell. what's yours and mine the fishing's fine and it doesn't have to rhyme so don't you feed me a line. but you, why you wanna give me a run around? is it a sure fire way to speed things up when all it does is slow me down? dear, this is the pilot speaking and i've got some news for you. it seems my ship still stands no matter what you drop and there ain't a whole lot that you can do. oh sure, the banner may be torn and the wind's gotten colder. perhaps i've grown a little cynical, but i know no matter what the waitress brings, i shall drink it and always be full. i like coffee and i like tea. i'd like to be able to enter a final plea. i still got this dream that you just can't shake. i love you to the point you can no longer take. well alright, okay, so be that way. i hope and pray that there's something left to say. but you, why you wanna give me a run around? is it a sure fire way to speed things up when all it does is slow me down? -blues traveler, "run around," am i right this time matt?

if you don't like it, you've come to the wrong place entirely.

i just came home from the card store and was having a conversation with a two year old. she pulled on the yellow hallmark bag, peered inside, and asked, "are them for jason?" "yes," i replied, "now give that to me." i snatched the bag back and dropped it on the table. "where are you going?" she inquired as i padded off to my bedroom. i found her peeking inside as i emerged with an armful of clean clothes. trying to maintain composure, i plainly stated, "i'm going to take a shower." "what are they?" "my clothes," i answered, lowering my arms to her eye level to prove i wasn't fibbing. she followed me to the bathroom, just a few steps behind. i set my clothes down on the counter and glanced at her quizzically. i could see the gears in her young mind turning as she formulated her next question. she saw me, though subconsciously, as a wealth of information. so far, i was three for three with answers and i couldn't help but smile as her eyes lit up. she could ask me anything she wanted and it was obvious she had come up with the most pressing of questions by the look on her face. "what color is your scrubber?" well, that's what i would have asked.

chewing on a piece of grass, walking down the road. tell me, how long you gonna stay here joe? some people say this town don't look good in snow. you don't care, i know. ventura highway in the sunshine, where the days are longer, the nights are stronger than moonshine. you're gonna go, i know, 'cause the free wind is blowin' through your hair and the days surround your daylight there. seasons crying in despair, alligator lizards in the air. wishin' on a falling star, waitin' for the early train. sorry boy, but i've been hit by purple rain. aw, come on joe, you can always change your name. thanks a lot son, just the same. ventura highway in the sunshine, where the days are longer, the nights are stronger than moonshine. you're gonna go, i know, 'cause the free wind is blowin' through your hair and the days surround your daylight there. seasons crying in despair, alligator lizards in the air. -america, "ventura highway," personally, i think the guitar riff in the beginning is the best part of this song, considering i don't know what an alligator lizard is.

there it is, they'd say, over and over, as if the repetition itself were an act of poise, a balance between crazy and almost crazy, knowing without going. there it is, which meant be cool, let it ride, because oh yeah, man, you can't change what can't be changed, there it is, there it absolutely and positively and fucking well is.

they did not submit to the obvious alternative, which was simply to close the eyes and fall. so easy, really. go limp and tumble to the ground and let the muscles unwind and not speak and not budge until your buddies picked you up and lifted you into the chopper that would roar and dip its nose and carry you off to the world. a mere matter of falling, yet no one ever fell. it was not courage, exactly; the object was not valor. rather, they were too frightened to be cowards.

colorblind valentines! wear your green

pretty with a q! thanks to jason for making me laugh every time he throws "with a q" on the end of a sentence.

she doesn't own a dress. her hair is always a mess. if you catch her stealin', she won't confess. she's beautiful. she smokes a pack a day, oh, wait, that's me, but anyway. she doesn't care a thing about that hair. she thinks i'm beautiful. meet virginia. she never compromises, loves babies and surprises, wears high heels when she exercises. ain't that beautiful? meet virginia. well, she wants to be the queen, then she thinks about her scene. pulls her hair back as she screams, "i don't really wanna be the queen." her daddy wrestles alligators, mama works on carburetors, her brother is a fine mediator for the president. well, here she is again, on the phone. just like me, hates to be alone. we just like to sit at home and rag on the president. meet virginia. well, she wants to live her life, then she thinks about her lies. pulls her hair back as she screams, "i don't really wanna live this life." She only drinks coffee at midnight, when the moment is not right. her timing is quite unusual. you see, her confidence is tragic, but her intuition magic, and the shape of her body unusual. meet virginia. i can't wait to meet virginia. well, she wants to be the queen, then she thinks about her scene. well, she wants to live her life, then she thinks about her lies. pulls her hair back as she screams, "i don't really wanna be the queen. i don't really wanna live this life." -train, "meet virginia," he loves her despite her ... "quirks."

i don't give a damn about my reputation. you're living in the past, it's a new generation. a girl can do what she wants to do and that's what i'm gonna do. and i don't give a damn about my bad reputation, oh no, not me. i don't give a damn about my reputation. never said i wanted to improve my station. and i'm only doing good when i'm having fun and i don't have to please no one. i don't give a damn about my bad reputation, oh no, not me. i don't give a damn about my reputation. i've never been afraid of any deviation and i don't really care if you think i'm strange. i ain't gonna change. and i'm never gonna care about my bad reputation, oh no, not me. pedal boys! and i don't give a damn about my reputation. the world's in trouble, there's no communication and everyone can say what they want to say. it never gets better anyway, so why should i care about a bad reputation anyway? oh no, not me. i don't give a damn about my bad reputation, you're living in the past, it's a new generation. and i only feel good when i got no pain, and that's how i'm gonna stay. i don't give a damn about my bad reputation, oh no, not me. -joan jett and the blackhearts, "bad reputation," this one's for meg and the shape of an L on her forehead.

i hate you, mindsay. i hate you and your slow, defective website. i also hate you, dial-up internet. i hate you and your noisy modem that wakes people up when i'm trying to sneak online at one in the morning. damn you all!

climbing up on solsbury hill, i could see the city light. wind was blowing, time stood still, eagle flew out of the night. he was something to observe. came in close, i heard a voice, standing, stretching every nerve. had to listen, had no choice. i did not believe the information, i just had to trust imagination. my heart going boom, boom, boom. "son," he said, "grab your things, i've come to take you home." to keepin' silence i resigned. my friends would think i was a nut, turning water into wine, open doors would soon be shut. so i went from day to day, though my life was in a rut, 'til i thought of what i'd say, which connection i should cut. i was feeling part of the scenery. i walked right out of the machinery. my heart going boom, boom, boom. "hey," he said, "grab your things, i've come to take you home." when illusion spin her net, i'm never where i want to be. and liberty, she pirouette when i think that i am free. watched by empty silhouettes who close their eyes but still can see. no one taught them etiquette. i will show another me. today, i don't need a replacement, i'll tell them what the smile on my face meant. my heart going boom, boom, boom. "hey," i said, "you can keep my things, they've come to take me home." -peter gabriel, "solsbury hill," so on and so forth.

that's why roadies are hired. it's not that it involves talent; it's just that the band can't get laid when they're hauling bass drums out to the car. and so, my purpose in life is revealed -- distract mr. b while the jazzers get it on in the bus. or something like that.

and if that mocking bird won't sing, we'll ring its little neck! my kinda lullaby.

l-y-n-n. one n? four n's? with a q?! jas, on spelling my middle name. it was a valiant effort.

it's not my fault you don't get it.

i played the fool today and i just dream of vanishing into the crowd. longing for home again, but home is a feeling i buried in you. i'm alright, it only hurts when i breathe. i can't ask for things to be still again. i can't ask if i could walk through the world in your eyes. longing for home again, but home is a feeling i buried in you. i'm alright, i'm alright, it only hurts when i breathe. my window through which nothing hides and everything sings, 'cause i'm counting the signs, cursing the miles in between. home is a feeling i buried in you. i'm alright, it only hurts when i breathe. -melissa etheridge, "breathe," found it, it's amazing, i'm in love.

his love was too much for him, he felt paralyzed, he wanted to sleep inside her lungs and breathe her blood and be smothered. he wanted her to be a virgin and not a virgin, all at once. he wanted to know her. intimate secrets ... why so sad? why the grayness in her eyes? why so alone? not lonely, just alone -- riding her bike across campus or sitting off by herself in the cafeteria. even dancing, she danced alone -- and it was the aloneness that filled him with love.

it was because i was stupid. i wasn't very sure that you loved me as a woman; and i did it -- because i wanted you to want me. i was trying to be more like other girls. i want to stop being like other girls.

"so ... you wanna go on the pill?" my forkful of meatloaf stopped somewhere between my plate and my mouth. i turned my head and raised an eyebrow. "what?" "i was just curious," my dad stated, "gary's daughter asked him the other day, so i figured ..." "figured what?" i asked. my mother piped up in the kitchen, "maybe we should buy her condoms. the pill doesn't protect against aids, you know," she declared as she turned the corner into the dining room, "and they work just as good." i dropped my fork and put my hands over my ears. "i don't believe i'm hearing this," i murmured, bowing my head. "why would we buy her condoms?" my father questioned, "she works at walmart. she can buy her own damn condoms." "i don't need condoms," i mentioned, raising my head, "or birth control pills, for that matter. but thank you." my father momentarily dropped the subject, but jumped back on it a few minutes later with, "when you're whispering in his ear, 'oh baby, i want you,' you're gonna regret not taking me up on this." the moral of the story? hearing my father imitate me trying to be sexy is simultaneously funny and disgusting enough to make me feed my meatloaf to the dog.

there's a saying old, says that love is blind. still, we're often told "seek and ye shall find," so i'm going to seek a certain girl i've had in mind. looking everywhere, i haven't found her yet. she's the big affair i cannot forget. only girl i ever think of with regret. i'd like to add her initials to my monogram. tell me, where's the shepherd for this lost lamb? there's a somebody i'm longing to see. i hope that she turns out to be someone to watch over me. i'm a little lamb who's lost in a wood. i know i could always be good to one who'll watch over me. although i may not be the man some girls think of as handsome, to my heart she carries the key. won't you tell her please to put on some speed, follow my lead, oh, how i need someone to watch over me. -george gerschwin, "someone to watch over me," enough said.

spend all your time waiting for that second chance, for a break that would make it okay. there's always some reason to feel not good enough and it's hard at the end of the day. i need some distraction, oh, beautiful release. memories seep from my veins. let me be empty and weightless and maybe i'll find some peace tonight. in the arms of the angel, far away from here, from this dark cold hotel room and the endlessness that you fear. you are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie. you're in the arms of the angel, may you find some comfort here. so tired of the straight line and everywhere you turn there's vultures and thieves at your back and the storm keeps on twisting. you keep on building the lies that you make up for all that you lack. it don't make no difference, escaping one last time. it's easier to believe in this sweet madness, oh, this glorious sadness that brings me to my knees. in the arms of the angel, far away from here, from this dark cold hotel room and the endlessness that you fear. you are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie. you're in the arms of the angel, may you find some comfort here. -sarah mclachlan, "angel," oh, beautiful release, i've found comfort here, thank you.

i have to go write a yucky english paper in about an hour and a half and i, quite simply, don't want to. me 'n' my chev are gonna go home. i hate this silly place and all these other silly people in the computer lab who are noisy typers. ha, i guess i'm a noisy typer, too. these are generally noisy keyboards. wearing my nifty neato mesh green pants today, in case anyone was wondering. i spilled coffee on them this morning, which isn't really that much of a surprise. before the end of my freshman year, i will have gained about fifteen pounds (appropriately) and put coffee stains on everything i own. i got coffee on my pretty new white hoodie the other day, too, major bummer. nothing a little clorox can't fix, i guess. mesh pants are no fun when it's cold outside, brr. they're comfy though, so i really don't care. ah, the joys of empty rambling. i desperately want to go home, eat something, and fall asleep on the couch with the music blaring. maybe some company.

oh, look. i appear to be lying at the bottom of a very deep, dark hole. that seems a familiar concept. what does it remind me of? ah, i remember. life. marvin the paranoid android is my hero.

it's such a strange, sickening, topsy-turvy feeling i'm feeling. everything is so wrong and yet perfect at the same time ... perfectly wrong.

people are talkin', talkin' 'bout people. i hear them whisper. you won't believe it. they think we're lovers kept under cover. i just ignore it, but they keep sayin' we laugh just a little too loud, stand just a little too close, we stare just a little too long. maybe they're seein' somethin' we don't, darlin'. let's give 'em something to talk about, let's give 'em something to talk about, let's give 'em something to talk about, how about love? i feel so foolish, i never noticed. you act so nervous, could you be fallin' for me? it took the rumor to make me wonder, now i'm convinced that i'm goin' under. thinkin' 'bout you every day, dreamin' 'bout you every night, i'm hopin' that you feel the same way. now that we know it, let's really show it, darlin'. let's give 'em something to talk about, a little mystery to figure out. let's give 'em something to talk about, how about love? let's give 'em something to talk about, babe, a little mystery to figure out. let's give 'em something to talk about, how about love? listen to 'em baby, a little mystery won't hurt 'em. -bonnie raitt, "something to talk about," tell me babe, are you fallin' for me?

that was romantic ... in an "i wanna suck your face off" sort of way.

don't listen to boys. they lie. actually, boys usually don't lie, at least not in day to day conversation. it's the things you think they're saying that's the lie. you see this guy, right? he looks like one of those independent, i-don't-need-a-girlfriend types, the kind that parties on weekends and drinks himself stupid, you all know the type. you see him hanging out with other girls, and you think (the key word here is think), you think you hear him saying, "i'm not interested in a relationship," and being the kind of girl who "endorses a deep commitment" (copyright savage garden) you slowly back off because, well, guys like him don't want a girlfriend. women of the world, i'm about to let you in on a little secret: deep down inside, they all want girlfriends. all of them.

i know what you're doing. i see it all too clear. i only taste the saline when i kiss away your tears. you really had me going, wishing on a star, but the black holes that surround you are heavier by far. i believed in your confusion. you were so completely torn. it must've been that yesterday was the day that i was born. there's not much to examine. there's nothing left to hide. you really can't be serious, you hafta ask me why i say goodbye. 'cause i am barely breathing and i can't find the air. don't know who i'm kidding imagining you care and i could stand here waiting, a fool for another day. i don't suppose it's worth the prize and worth the price, the price that i would pay. and everyone keeps asking, "what's it all about? i used to be so certain and i can't figure out, what is this attraction? only feel the pain. there's nothing left to reason and only you to blame. will it ever change? 'cause i am barely breathing and i can't find the air. don't know who i'm kidding imagining you care and i could stand here waiting, a fool for another day. i don't suppose it's worth the prize and worth the price, the price that i would pay, but i'm thinking it over anyway. i've come to find i may never know your changing mind. is it friend or foe? i rise above or sink below with every time you come and go. please, don't come and go. 'cause i am barely breathing and i can't find the air. don't know who i'm kidding imagining you care and i could stand here waiting, a fool for another day. i don't suppose it's worth the prize and worth the price, the price that i would pay, but i'm thinking it over anyway. i know what you're doing. i see it all to clear. -duncan sheik, "barely breathing," can't figure out who i'm kidding, either.

god's property is not your ashtray.

what in the ham sandwich is that supposed to mean?! combine delirium with fresh-outta-aspirin and you've got yourself the funniest line in history.

i see a red door and i want it painted black. no colors anymore, i want them to turn black. i see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes. i have to turn my head until my darkness goes. i see a line of cars and they're all painted black with flowers and my love, both never to come back. i see people turn their heads and quickly look away. like a newborn baby, it just happens everyday. i look inside myself and see my heart is black. i see my red door and it has been painted black. maybe then i'll fade away and not have to face the facts. it's not easy facing up when your whole world is black. no more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue. i could not foresee this thing happening to you. if i look hard enough into the setting sun, my love will laugh with me before the morning comes. i see a red door and i want it painted black. no colors anymore, i want them to turn black. i see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes. i have to turn my head until my darkness goes. i wanna see it painted black, black as night, black as coal. i wanna see the sun blotted out from the sky, i wanna see it painted, painted black. -the rolling stones, "paint it black," if i look hard enough into the setting sun, i'll go blind.

oh, the confusion ... hurts my brain, really.

okay baby, you don't have to be a pie. jason, in response to me, practicing my britsh accent with a popular phrase from the movie "chicken run."

thinks too much, eats too much, talks too much ... blah.

addicted?

it'll be a year this saturday since jessie died ... this week keeps getting crazier all the time. i don't know exactly how to appropriately remember her short of throwing a party or breaking down in tears. does that make any sense? my love affair with johnny mayer has taught me that "i am invincible," but 2003 taught me that no matter how good it sounds coming out of his mouth, it's not true. that song was sort of our graduation song ... if my memory serves me, it was in the band video and in the senior video, but i don't think there could have been a more inappropriate line to commemorate our class. no matter how much we want to believe it, none of us are invincible. none. it's unfortunate, really.

who can say for certain? maybe you're still here. i feel you all around me, your memory's so clear. deep within the stillness, i can hear you speak. you're still an inspiration. can it be that you are mine, forever love and you are watching over me from up above? fly me up to where you are beyond the distant star. i wish upon tonight to see you smile, if only for a while to know you're there. a breath away's not far to where you are. are you gently sleeping here inside my dream? and isn't faith believing? all power can't be seen. as my heart holds you just one beat away, i cherish all you gave me every day, 'cause you are mine, forever love, watching me from up above. and i believe that angels breathe and that love will live on and never leave. fly me up to where you are beyond the distant star. i wish upon tonight to see you smile, if only for a while to know you're there. a breath away's not far to where you are. i know you're there. a breath away's not far to where you are. josh groban, "to where you are," kinda for a bunch of people. you know who you are.

i miss you. yes, you. i know, it's completely ridiculous and totally unprecedented, but i can't help it anymore.

naturally, i'm a very nervous girl. and lately, i've been extraordinarily nervy. i don't know over what, though. i only have minimal things to be nervous over, and even those things are easily preventable. so ... i'm gonna go watch "friends" now. things will inevitably sort themselves out. right?

does she walk? does she talk? does she come complete? my only homeroom angel always pulled me from my seat. she was pure, like snowflakes no one could ever stain. the memory of my angel could never cause me pain. years go buy, i'm looking through a girlie magazine, and there's my homeroom angel on the pages in between. my blood runs cold. me memory has just been sold, my angel is the centerfold, angel is the centerfold. slipped me notes under the desk while i was thinking about her dress. i was shy, i turned away before she caught my eye. i was shakin' in my shoes whenever she flashed those baby blues. something had a hold on me when angel passed close by. those soft fuzzy sweaters, too magical to touch. to see her in that negligee is really just too much. my blood runs cold. me memory has just been sold, my angel is the centerfold, angel is the centerfold. now listen, it's okay, i understand, this ain't no never-never land. i hope that when this issue's gone i'll see you when your clothes are on. take your car, yes we will, we'll take your car and drive it, take it to a motel room and take 'em off in private. a part of me has just been ripped, the pages from my mind are stripped. oh no, i can't deny it, oh yeah, i guess i got to buy it. my blood runs cold. me memory has just been sold, my angel is the centerfold, angel is the centerfold. -j. geils band, "centerfold," there is no better song to wake up to first thing in the morning. really motivates you to get dressed.

had a bad day again. she said i would not understand. she left a note and said, "i'm sorry, i had a bad day again." she spilled her coffee, broke her shoelace, smeared the lipstick on her face, slammed the door, and said, "i'm sorry, i had a bad day again." and she swears there's nothing wrong. i hear her playing that same old song. she puts me off and puts me on. had a bad day again. she said i would not understand. left a note and said, "i'm sorry, i had a bad day again." no. and she swears there's nothing wrong. i hear her playing that same old song. she puts me off and puts me on. had a bad day again. she said i would not understand. she left a note and said, "i'm sorry, i had a bad day again." she left a note and said, "i'm sorry, i had a bad day." -fuel, "bad day," inspired by walmart. i know, don't let it upset you ... i can't help it though.

an actual excerpt from my weight training "book:" "all three muscle groups receive an equal amount of torment." ... and this is supposed to encourage me how?

this ain't no disco. this ain't no country club either. this is l.a. "all i wanna do is have a little fun before i die," says the man next to me, outta nowhere. this apropos nothing. he says his name is william, but i'm sure it's bill or billy or mac or buddy, and he's plain ugly to me, and i wonder if he's ever had a day of fun in his whole life. we are drinking beer at noon on tuesday in a bar that faces a giant car wash. the good people of the world are washing their cars on their lunch break, hosing a scrubbing as best they can in skirts and suits. they drive their shiny datsons and buicks back to the phone company, record store or two. well, they're nothing like billy and me, 'cause all i wanna do is have some fun. i got a feeling i'm not the only one. all i wanna do is have some fun until the sun comes up over santa monica boulevard. i like a good beer buzz early in the morning and billy likes to peel the labels from his bottles of bud. he shreds them on the bar, and he lights every match in an oversized pack, letting each one burn down to his thick fingers before blowing and cursing them out, and he's watching the bottles of bud as they spin on the floor. a happy couple enters the bar, dangerously close to one another. the bartender looks up from his want ads, but all i wanna do is have some fun. i got a feeling i'm not the only one. all i wanna do is have some fun until the sun comes up over santa monica boulevard. otherwise the bar is ours, the day and the night and the car wash too, the matches and the buds and the clean and dirty cars, the sun and the moon. all i wanna do is have some fun, i got a feeling i'm not the only one. all i wanna do is have some fun until the sun comes up over santa monica boulevard. -sheryl crow, "all i wanna do," i dunno, there's just something about being dangerously close to someone.

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love's not time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks within his bending sickle's compass come; love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, but bears it out even to the edge of doom.

he clasps the crag with lonely crooked hands; close to the sun in lonely lands, ringed with the azure world, he stands. the wrinkled sea beneath him crawls; he watches from his mountain walls, and like a thunderbolt he falls.

i'm nobody! who are you? are you -- nobody -- too?

so instead of getting to heaven, at last -- i'm going, all along.

jason, looking rather puzzled, stopped mid-conversation and poked my face in a strange, masculine sort of way. "here -- i think part of your makeup fell off."

there's this guy at work ... he dyed his hair black, and now his roots are growing out blonde. and for some reason, i think this is the most intriguing thing ever.

a man said to the universe: "sir, i exist!" "however," replied the universe, "the fact has not created in me a sense of obligation."

some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. from what i've tasted of desire i hold with those who favor fire. but if it had to perish twice, i think i know enough of hate to say that for destruction ice is also great and would suffice.

pity this busy monster, manunkind, not. progress is a comfortable disease: your victim (death and life safely beyond) plays with the bigness of his littleness -- electrons deify one razorblade into a mountainrange; lenses extend unwish through curving wherewhen till unwish return on its unself a world of made is not a world of born -- pity poor flesh and trees, poor stars and stones, but never this fine specimen of hypermagical ultraomnipotence. we doctors know a hopeless case if -- listen: there's a hell of a good universe next door; let's go

woke up early this morning, made my coffee like i always do. then it hit me from nowhere, everything i feel about me and you. the way you kiss me crazy, baby, you're so amazing. seven days and seven nights of thunder. the water's rising and i'm slipping under. i think i fell in love with the eighth world wonder. i guess that i'm just falling deeper into something i've never known, but the way that i'm feeling makes me realize that i can't be wrong. your love's like a summer rain, washing my doubts away. seven days and seven nights of thunder. the water's rising and i'm slipping under. i think i fell in love with the eighth world wonder. it's only been a week, but it's coming over me. it's making me believe that you're the one for me. seven days and seven nights of thunder. the water's rising and i'm slipping under. i think i fell in love with the eighth world wonder. -kimberly locke, "eighth world wonder," something awful catchy about that chorus.

what happens to a dream deferred? does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? or fester like a sore -- and then run? does it stink like rotten meat? or crust and sugar over -- like a syrupy sweet? maybe it just sags like a heavy load. or does it explode?

yet year after year before his image they kneel margarita josefina maria and isabel all fervently hoping that if not omnipotent at least he be bilingual

so, i'm sitting in calc after i finished by quiz, and the guy sitting next to me starts drinking yogurt. drinking. yogurt. as if yogurt wasn't bad enough, as if squeeze-tube yogurt wasn't bad enough, now you can chug the stuff from a bottle. oh, gag. and then, he wiped his yogurt drinking mouth on his sleeve. i nearly died. blurgh, i cringe just thinking about it.

she's blood, flesh, and bone, no tucks or silicone. she's touch, smell, sight, taste, and sound, but somehow i can't believe that anything should happen. i know where i belong and nothing's gonna happen, 'cause she's so high, high above me, she's so lovely. she's so high, like cleopatra, joan of arc, or aphrodite. she's so high, high above me. first class and fancy free. she's high society. she's got the best of everything. what could a guy like me ever really offer? she's perfect as she can be. why should i even bother? she's so high, high above me, she's so lovely. she's so high, like cleopatra, joan of arc, or aphrodite. she's so high, high above me. she calls to speak to me. i freeze immediately, 'cause what she says sounds so unreal, 'cause somehow i can't believe that anything should happen. i know where i belong and nothing's gonna happen, 'cause she's so high, high above me, she's so lovely. she's so high, like cleopatra, joan of arc, or aphrodite. she's so high, high above me. -tal bachman, "she's so high," i was watching "extreme makeover" and the first few lines seemed incredibly appropriate. my message to the women of the world -- you don't need plastic surgery. seriously.

mondays blow.

explanation ... ecks-plahn-aht-see-own. por favor.

i'm not a perfect person, as many things i wish i didn't do, but i continue learning. i never meant to do those things to you, and so i have to say before i go, that i just want you to know, i've found a reason for me to change who i used to be, a reason to start over new, and the reason is you. i'm sorry that i hurt you. it's something that i must live with every day, and all the pain i put you through. i wish that i could take it all away, and be the one who catches all your tears. that's why i need you to hear, i've found a reason for me to change who i used to be, a reason to start over new, and the reason is you. i'm not a perfect person. i never meant to do those things to you, and so i have to say before i go, that i just want you to know, i've found a reason for me to change who i used to be, a reason to start over new, and the reason is you. i've found a reason to show a side of me i didn't know, a reason for all that i do, and the reason is you. -hoobastank, "the reason," i wonder if he realizes.

he that loveth not knoweth not god; for god is love. 1 john 4:8

my sisters were in the kitchen, speaking what i like to call "rapid fire spanglish." they were going back and forth, getting higher and higher pitched, more than likely insulting one another. getting frustrated, my mother closes her eyes, shakes her head, and says, "aaah, taco bell!" priceless.

early in the mornin', rising to the street, light me up that cigarette and i'll strap shoes on my feet. got to find the reason, reason things went wrong. got to find the reason why my money's all gone. i got a dalmatian and i can still get high. i can play the guitar like a mother fuckin' riot. well, life is too short, so love the one you got, 'cause you might get run over or you might get shot. never start static, i just get it off my chest. never had to battle with my bullet proof vest. take a small example, a tip from me, take all of your money and give it to charity. life is what i got, it's within my reach and the sublime style still straight from long beach. it all comes back to you. you're gonna get what you deserve. try and test that, you're bound to get served. love's what i got, don't start a riot, you feel it when the dance gets hot. lovin' is what i got, i said remember that. why i don't cry when my dog runs away. i don't get angry at the bills i have to pay. i don't get angry when my mom smokes pot, hits the bottle and goes right to the rock. fuckin' and fightin' it, it's all the same. livin' with louie dogs' the only way to stay sane. let the lovin' come back to me. lovin' is what i got, i said remember that. lovin' is what i got. -sublime, "what i got," try not to get angry at the bills you have to pay.

flocking is not hard-wired. there is nothing in the bird brain that said, "when thus-and-such happens, start flocking." on the contrary, flocking simply emerged within the group as a result of much simpler, low-level rules. rules like, "stay close to the birds nearest you, but don't bump into them." i'm a silly bird.

it usually jogs. jason, on his brain running.

shed a tear 'cause i'm missin' you. i'm still alright to smile. girl, i think about you every day now. was a time when i wasn't sure, but you set my mind at ease. there is not doubt you're in my heart now. said woman, take it slow, it'll work itself out fine. all we need is a little patience. said sugar, make it slow and we come together fine. all we need is just a little patience. i sit here on the stairs 'cause i'd rather be alone if i can't have you right now. i'll wait, dear. sometimes, i get so tense, but i can't speed up the time, but you know love, there's only one more thing to consider. said woman, take it slow and things will be just fine. you and i'll just use a little patience. said sugar, take the time, 'cause the lights are shining bright. you and i've got what it takes to make it. we won't fake it, i'll never break it, 'cause i can't take it. i been walking the streets at night just tryin' to get it right. hard to see with so many around. you know i don't like being stuck in the crowd, and the streets don't change, but baby, the name, i ain't got time for the game 'cause i need you. i need you all this time. -guns n' roses, "patience," john mayer did a cover, too. i'd rather be alone if i can't have you baby.

i don't wanna play anymore.

just a day, just an ordinary day, just trying to get by. just a boy, just an ordinary boy, but he was looking to the sky. and he asked if i would come along. i started to realize that everyday you find just what you're looking for. like a shooting star, he shines. he said, "take my hand. live while you can. don't you see your dream are right in the palm of your hand?" and as he spoke, he spoke ordinary words, although they did not feel, for i felt what i had not felt before. you'd swear those words could heal. and as i looked up into those eyes, his vision borrows mine, and to know he's no stranger, for i feel i've held him for all of time. and he said, "take my hand. live while you can. and if we walk now, we will divide and conquer this land. don't you see your dreams are right in the palm of your hand? right in the palm of your hand." please, come with me. see what i see. touch the stars, for time will not flee. can you be? just a dream, just an ordinary dream as i wake in bed. and that boy, that boy, that ordinary boy. or was it all in my head? then he asked if i would come along. it all seemed so real, but as i looked to the door, i saw that boy standing there with a deal. and he said, "take my hand. live while you can. don't you see your dreams are right in the palm of your hand? in the palm of your hand." just a day, just an ordinary day, just tryin' to get by. just a boy, just an ordinary boy, but he was looking to the sky. -vanessa carlton, "ordinary day," he speaks ordinary words, but i feel i've held him for all of time.

i was standing at the top of the stairs and my father told me to jump down the steps, jump down to where he was. "jump, jump," he said, "papa's got you. papa'll catch you." "i'll fall, papa," i said. but he answers me, his voice so gentle, so strong: "papa wouldn't let you fall. don't be afraid. come on now, jump." finally, i gather up the courage and jump. i leap toward daddy's arms -- and my father, he steps aside. i fall, of course. i fall down on that hard ground, and it hurts. i cry and ask him, "papa, why didn't you catch me? why did you let me fall? you said to jump and i jumped." and he says to me, "listen to me, and listen carefully. learn this once and never forget: trust no man."

hello there, the angel from my nightmare, the shadow in the background of the morgue, the unsuspecting victim of darkness in the valley. we can live like jack and sally, if we want, where you can always find me. we'll have halloween on christmas, and in the night we'll wish this never ends. we'll wish this never ends. don't waste your time on me. you're already the voice inside my head. i miss you. don't waste your time on me. you're already the voice inside my head. i miss you. where are you? and i'm so sorry. i cannot sleep, i cannot dream tonight. i need somebody and always. this sick, strange darkness comes creeping on so haunting every time, and as i stared, i counted webs from all the spiders, catching things and eating their insides. like indecision to call you and hear your voice of treason. will you come home and stop this pain tonight? stop this pain tonight. don't waste your time on me. you're already the voice inside my head. i miss you. don't waste your time on me. you're already the voice inside my head. i miss you. -blink 182, "i miss you," this one's a little on the dark side, but it's almost enchanting in a certain way.

i wish someone would pay me to go to school for the rest of my life. really.

one, two, three, take my hand and come with me, because you look so fine that i really wanna make you mine. i say, you look so fine that i really wanna make you mine. oh, four, five, six, c'mon and get your kicks. now, you don't need that money when you look like that, do ya honey? big black boots, long brown hair. she's so sweet with her get back stare. well, i could see you home with me, but you were with another man, yeah. i know we ain't got much to say before i let you get away, yeah. i said, are you gonna be my girl? well, so one, two, three, take my hand and come with me, because you look so fine that i really wanna make you mine. i say, you look so fine that i really wanna make you mine. oh, four, five, six, c'mon and get your kicks. now, you don't need that money with a face like that, do ya? big black boots, long brown hair. she's so sweet with her get back stare. well, i could see you home with me, but you were with another man, yeah. i know we ain't got much to say before i let you get away, yeah. i said, are you gonna be my girl? i could see you home with me, but you were with another man, yeah. i know we ain't got much to say before i let you get away, yeah. are you gonna be my girl? -jet, "are you gonna be my girl," you can't help but get up and dance when you hear this one. especially if you have big black boots and long brown hair.

please, i'm begging you, smack me around for a few minutes, figure out what the hell is wrong with me.

how do i make you fall in love with me? i'll write you a hundred poems, endless reams of measured phrases. ten alone will be dedicated to the small of your back, the way the muscles thread across your spine like knuckles, how the silken skin there is so warm under my fingertips that know they shouldn't be there anyway. at least three will marvel in the wonder of the base of your neck. another two, one for each of your so perfect eyes, the weighted gazes, the shy glances, the longer, lingering stares, the endless depths of which i admit i've found myself lost in, lost, and not even looking for a way back. a dozen or so will meter out the beauty of your hands, the tendons sliding across joints, the tiny scars that all have stories whether remembered or not. i'll try to not let this set get away from me and direct your hands to all the places i would if left alone, but rather keep to the task at hand: an inventory of each wonderful thing about them. other words, collected, scrawled, looping across a sheaf of yellowed papers bound together with twine and heartstrings. your heart, the curve of your ear, the earnest grins that knock me flat. but only one poem for your lips. come here, and i'll whisper it right to them. i wish i could credit that as being mine, but alas, i stole it from someone else's website.

when will summer really begin? i feel like it's warm enough outside to sleep 'til noon, waste the day sitting in a tree, and finish off the evening with a slice of watermelon, but i still have school and work and all this other superfluous crap that leaves me feeling like a little kid that just got thrown off the merry-go-round because he wasn't holding on tight enough. by the way, i used that particular reference because we were doing uniform circular motion today in physics. lovely.

never go to bed angry. i don't care how late you have to stay up sorting things out, refuse to allow yourself to hit the pillow until you're no longer upset. otherwise, you won't sleep. trust me.

someone thinks i don't update enough. if i update more, will more people read it? will more people leave comments? i think not.

so she said, "what's the problem, baby?" what's the problem? i don't know. well, maybe i'm in love. think about it every time i think about it, can't stop thinking 'bout it. how much longer will it take to cure this? just to cure it, 'cause i can't ignore it if it's love. makes me wanna turn around and face me but i don't know nothing 'bout love. come on, come on, turn a little faster. come on, come on, the world will follow after. come on, come on, 'cause everybody's after love. so i said i'm a snowball running, running down into the spring that's coming. all this love, melting under blue skies, belting out sunlight, shimmering love. well baby, i surrender to the strawberry ice cream, never ever end of all this love. well, i didn't mean to do it, but there's no escaping your love. these lines of lightning mean we're never alone, never alone. come on, come on, move a little closer. come on, come on, i want to hear you whisper. come on, come on, settle down inside my love. come on, come on, jump a little higher. come on, come on, if you feel a little lighter. come on, come on, we were once upon a time in love. we're accidentally in love, accidentally in love. come on, come on, spin a little tighter. come on, come on, and the world's a little brighter. come on, come on, just get your self inside her love. i'm in love. -counting crows, "accidentally in love," and no, not because its the shrek 2 theme song. in fact, that has almost nothing to do with it. do you see the lines of lightning? they mean we're never alone.

megan and i were discussing mood rings, and this is her insightful commentary. it turns purple, too -- that's not a color on the sheet!

one dropped a walnut in our bathroom. jason on squirrels.

one boy in particular is intriguing based on the fact that if we had gone to high school together, he would have spit on my head in the stairwells and i would have written incriminating sarcastic stories about him and his friends in the school paper. almost all of his stories end with, "and then i was so plastered i didn't remember anything," and he also said, "i have no idea what i'm going to do after grad school. i wish i could major in football." but he's also smart -- really smart, about a lot of things, and we're getting along just fine and i hope he will rid (or at least reduce) my fear of boys of "that type." i still sometimes get a little worried sitting next to him at first, like maybe he'll steal my books and write simple-minded nonsensical insults on them, but he's held open doors for me and other nice things and i have a feeling this will be just fine.

miss independent, miss self-sufficient, miss keep your distance. miss unafraid, miss out of my way, miss don't let a man interfere. miss on her own, miss almost grown, miss never let a man help her off her throne. so, by keeping her heart protected, she'd never ever feel rejected. little miss apprehensive, i said, oh, she fell in love. what is this feeling taking over? thinking no one could open the door. surprise, it's time to feel what's real. what happened to miss independent? no longer need to be defensive. goodbye old you when love is true. miss guarded heart, miss play it smart, miss if you wanna use that line you better not start. but she miscalculated, she didn't want to end up jaded and this miss decided not to miss out on true love. so, by changing her misconceptions, she went in a new direction and found inside she felt a connection. she fell in love. what is this feeling taking over? thinking no one could open the door. surprise, it's time to feel what's real. what happened to miss independent? no longer need to be defensive. goodbye old you when love is true. when miss independent walked away, no time for love that came her way. she looked in the mirror and thought today, "what happened to miss no longer afraid?" it took some time for her to see how beautiful love could truly be. no more talk of, "why can't that be me?" i'm so glad i finally see. what is this feeling taking over? thinking no one could open the door. surprise, it's time to feel what's real. what happened to miss independent? no longer need to be defensive. goodbye old you when love is true. -kelly clarkson, "miss independent," i seem to have miscalculated.

i'm finding my way back to sanity again, though i don't really know what i'm gonna do when i get there. i take a breath and hold on tight, spin around one more time, and gracefully fall back to the arms of grace, 'cause i am hanging on every word you're saying. even if you don't wanna speak tonight, that's alright, alright with me, 'cause i want nothing more than to sit outside heaven's door and listen to you breathing. it's where i wanna be, where i wanna be. i'm looking past the shadows in my mind into the truth and i'm trying to identify te voices in my head. god, wish, won't you let me feel one more time what it feels like to feel and break these caluses of me one more time? 'cause i am hanging on every word you're saying. even if you don't wanna speak tonight, that's alright, alright with me, 'cause i want nothing more than to sit outside of your door and listen to you breathing. it's where i wanna be. i don't want a thing from you. bet you're tired of waiting for the scraps to fall off your table to the ground, 'cause i just wanna be here now. 'cause i am hanging on every word you're saying. even if you don't wanna speak tonight, that's alright, alright with me, 'cause i want nothing more than to sit outside heaven's door and listen to you breathing. it's where i wanna be, where i wanna be. -lifehouse, "breathing," even if i don't wanna speak? mean it?

nobody on the road, nobody on the beach. i feel it in the air, the summer's out of reach. empty lake, empty streets, the sun goes down alone. i'm drivin' by your house though i know you're not home, but i can see you, your brown skin shinin' in the sun. you got your hair combed back and your sunglasses on baby, and i can tell you my love for you will still be strong after the boys of summer have gone. i never will forget those nights. i wonder if it was a dream. remember how you made me crazy? remember how i made you scream? now i don't understand what happened to our love, but babe, i'm gonna get you back. i'm gonna show you what i'm made of. i can see you, your brown skin shinin' in the sun. i see you walkin' real slow, smilin' at everyone. i can tell you my love for you will still be strong after the boys of summer have gone. out on the road today, i saw a blackflag sticker on a cadillac. a little voice inside my head said, "don't look back, you can never look back." i thought i knew what love was. what did i know? those days are gone forever. i should just let them go, but i can see you, your brown skin shinin' in the sun. you got that top pulled down and that radio on baby, and i can tell you my love for you will still be strong after the boys of summer have gone. i can see you, your brown skin shinin' in the sun. you got that hair slicked back and those wayfarers on baby. i can tell you my love for you will still be strong after the boys of summer have gone. -don henley, "boys of summer," because i combed my hair back at just the right time.

when i came home tonight, the turkeys were perching on the wooden part of their cage. stupid turkeys. only, like, five months and we can have one for thanksgiving. followed by: the point is that they are not my favorite animal until they are in a sammich.

go ask him. he likes you. said you were a good student. the fabulous bsliv trying to get me to ask our teacher about the lab. worked every time, too.

bathroom! bathroom! jammie -- bathroom! sam at work. don't ask.

close my eyes, let the whole thing pass me by. there is no time to waste asking why. i'll run away with you by my side. i'll run away with you by my side. i need to let go, let go, let go, let go of this pride. i think about your face and how i fall into your eyes. the outline that i trace around the one that i call mine. a time that called for space, unclear where you drew the line. i dont't need to solve this case and i don't need to look behind. close my eyes, let the whole thing pass me by. there is not time to waste asking why. i'll run away with you by my side. i'll run away with you by my side. i need to let go, let go, let go, let go of this pride. do i expect to change the past i hold inside, with all the words i say repeating over in my mind? some things you can't erase no matter how hard you try. an exit to escape is all there is left to find. close my eyes, let the whole thing pass me by. there is not time to waste asking why. i'll run away with you by my side. i'll run away with you by my side. i need to let go, let go, let go, let go of this pride until this echo, echo, echo, echo in my mind, until this echo, echo, echo, echo can subside. so i close my eyes, let the whole thing pass me by. there is not time to waste asking why. i'll run away with you by my side. i'll run away with you by my side. i need to let go, let go, let go, let go of this pride until this echo, echo, echo, echo in my mind, until this echo, echo, echo, echo can subside. -trapt, "echo," i feel like tracing some outlines myself.

there's a place off ocean avenue where i used to sit and talk with you. we were both sixteen and it felt so right, sleeping all day, staying up all night. there's a place on the corner of cherry street. we would walk on the beach in our bare feet. we were both eighteen and it felt so right, sleeping all day, staying up all night. if i could find you now, things would get better. we could leave this town and run forever. let your waves crash down on me and take me away. there's a piece of you that's here with me. it's everywhere i go, it's everything i see. when i sleep, i dream and it gets me by. i can make believe that you're here tonight. if i could find you now, things would get better. we could leave this town and run forever. i know somewhere, somehow we'll be together. let your waves crash down on me and take me away. i remember the look in your eyes when i told you that this was goodbye. you were begging me, "not tonight, not here, not now." we're looking up at the same night sky and keep pretending the sun will not rise. we'll be together for one more night somewhere, somehow. if i could find you now things would get better. we could leave this town and run forever. i know somewhere, somehow we'll be together. let your waves crash down on me and take me away. -yellowcard, "ocean avenue," please, not here, not now, not like this. we'll be together for one more night somehow. at first, i was repulsed by this song, but the more i hear it, the more it pertains to life.


it started off as "blank disbelief" and ended up as "cold fury." in between it went through a fascinating range of adjustments, all of which were noted down by the journalist: "surprised dissatisfaction" was rapidly replaced by "stupefied indignation," which in turn quickly became "bitter resentment," which equally quickly was transformed into "burning thirst for vengeance" and on to "cold fury."

"ohhh!" moaned the journalist, as he chewed her bra strap. "ahh!" said lucy. "haaaa!" murmured the journalist. "oh-uh!" replied lucy. "oooooh!" he said. "oh! uh! ooh!" added lucy. "ya! ha! haa?" asked the journalist. "uh!" confirmed lucy. "uh?" asked the journalist again. "uh!" repeated lucy. "uuuuuhh!" the journalist was almost lost for words at this point. but lucy carried on the conversation: "oh!" she said. "ah?" he wondered how she could be so certain. "ah!" she nodded. she was absolutely certain now. "ah!" yes, that was a sex scene.

gentlemen, we're screwed.

nettie still had hold of dan's hand. it seemed to dan that she had permanently held on to his hand since that first discovery of the photos. of course she hadn't, but it was just that dan only counted himself alive at those moments when she had.

well. that was ... different.

what she doesn't know will kill you. you met her a few months ago, and somehow she managed to seep into your subconscious like that "suga how you get so fly" song. just like you have to clue who the hell sings it, you don't know why she's there. but she is, whether you like it or not. you know her cell phone, her room phone. you can dial her aunt doreen's house in west springfield (where she goes to do her laundry every two weeks) faster than you can peck out 911. but she doesn't know. her screenname, that generic one with her first name followed by three to five random numbers, has its own category at the top of your buddy list. not only do you know what a buddy alert is, you've rigged your computer to play "fat guy in a little coat" from tommy boy every time her screenname changes from gray to black. then her away message comes down, and you have a decision to make. to im or not to im? these are the ridiculous games that you play on a daily basis. but she doesn't know. she's it. all right, so maybe not "it" it. not necessarily ms. right, but closer to ms. right-up-there-with-anna-kournikova-and-lizzie-mcguire-on-your-list-of-people-you'd-give-anything-to-be-stranded-with-on-a-broken-down-elevator. but it's about more than that. not like frilly white dress, overpriced catering, embarrassing drunk in-laws more, but closer to sweatpants, two cups of coffee, a futon and a movie you have no interest in seeing more. but she doesn't know. she's gorgeous, but gorgeous is an understatement. more like you're startled every time you see her because you notice something new in a "where's waldo" sort of way. more like you can't stop writing third grade run-on sentences because you can't remotely begin to describe something ... someone ... so inherently amazing. but you're a writer. you can describe anything. that's what you do: pictures to words, events to words, words to even better words. but nothing seems right. more like you're afraid that if you stare at her for too long, you'll prove your parents right: that yes, your face will stick that way. but you wouldn't mind. you wouldn't mind that the questioning, "hello?" on the other end makes you want to smile and throw up at the same time. you wouldn't mind worrying about what to get her for her birthday and spending $300 when you only have $17.50 and a triple-a card to your name. you wouldn't mind that she left your tv on and the blaring infomercials wake you up at 4 a.m. ... because it gives you a chance to watch her sleep. you don't mind that you've slipped up twice when you were hammered and hinted at how you feel, but she was too drunk to remember. so she doesn't know. sure, she's pretty, but it's about more than that. you two connect. anything you throw at her, she can throw right back. you figured out what's going on in that predictable head of hers in under five minutes, but something tells you her heart would take about five years. you remember everything she's ever said to you, and when that freaks her out you blame it on your photographic memory (which is a lie, you have a 2.7 gpa). you can't remember your teaching assistant's name, and you can't remember that your rent check was due four days ago, yet you remember the middle name of the kid who tripped her in fifth grade and gave her that cute little scar on her shoulder. maybe it's because you actually listen when she talks. when do you actually listen? never. but she doesn't know. on the worst of her days, your corny half-joke, half-compliment somehow gets a smile out of her that almost makes you feel ashamed that you're the only one around who gets to witness it. it looks like you might make her realize that all guys don't deserve to have rocks thrown at them. but nothing changes. she doesn't know. you get that library elevator feeling in your stomach that she'll never know. you go to sleep. you wake up. she doesn't know. you're not in love. you're not obsessed. you blame it on the fact that you just need to get some, but still, it's about more than that. it would just be nice if once in your life, things worked out the way you wanted them to. so, it's about time you know.

a long, long time ago, i can still remember how that music used to make me smile and i knew if i had my chance that i could make those people dance and maybe they'd be happy for a while, but february made me shiver. with every paper i delivered, bad news on the doorstep, i couldn't take one more step. i can't remember if i cried when i read about his widowed bride, but something touched me deep inside the day the music died. bye bye miss american pie. drove my chevy to the levy, but the levy was dry. them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye, singin', "this will be the day that i die, this will be the day that i die." did you write the book of love and do you have faith in god above if the bible tells you so? and do you believe in rock 'n' roll? can music save your mortal soul and can you teach me how to dance real slow? well, i know that you're in love with him 'cause i saw you dancin' in the gym. you both kicked off your shoes and i dig those rhythm and blues. i was a lonely teenage bronkin' buck with a pink carnation and a pick up truck, but i knew i was out of luck the day the music died. i started singin', bye bye miss american pie. drove my chevy to the levy, but the levy was dry. them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye, singin', "this will be the day that i die, this will be the day that i die." now for ten years we've been on our own and moss grows fat on a rollin' stone, but that's not how it used to be. when the jester sang for the king and queen in a coat he borrowed from james dean and a voice that came from you and me, and while the king was looking down, the jester stole his thorny crown. the courtroom was adjourned, no verdict was returned, and when lenin read a book on marx, the quartet practiced in the park and we sang dirges in the dark the day the music died. we were singin, bye bye miss american pie. drove my chevy to the levy, but the levy was dry. them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye, singin', "this will be the day that i die, this will be the day that i die." helter skelter in a summer swelter. the birds flew off with a fallout shelter, eight miles high and fallin' fast, its the land that falled on the grass. the players tried for a forward pass with the jester on the sidelines in a cast. now, the half-time air was sweet perfume while the sergeants played a marching tune. we all got up to dance, but we never got the chance. as the players tried to take the field, the marching band refused to yield. do you recall what was revealed the day the music died? we started singin', bye bye miss american pie. drove my chevy to the levy, but the levy was dry. them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye, singin', "this will be the day that i die, this will be the day that i die." oh, and there we were all in one place, a generation lost in space with no time left to start again, so come on, jack be nimble, jack be quick, jack flash sat on a candle stick because fire is the devil's only friend, and as i watched him on the stage, my hands were clinched in fists of rage. no angel born in hell could break that satan's spell and as the planes climbed high into the night to light the sacrificial right, i saw satan laughing with delight the day the music died. he was singin' bye bye miss american pie. drove my chevy to the levy, but the levy was dry. them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye, singin', "this will be the day that i die, this will be the day that i die." i met a girl who sang the blues and i asked her for some happy news, but she just smiled and turned away. i went down to the sacred store where i'd heard the music years before, but the man there said the music wouldn't play, and in the streets, the children screamed, the lovers cried, and the poets dreamed, but not a word was spoken. the church bells all were broken and the three men i admire most, the father, son, and holy ghost, they caught the last train for the coast the day the music died, and they were singin', bye bye miss american pie. drove my chevy to the levy, but the levy was dry. them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye, singin', "this will be the day that i die, this will be the day that i die." they were singin', bye bye miss american pie. drove my chevy to the levy, but the levy was dry. them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye, singin', "this will be the day that i die." -don mclean, "american pie," can music save your moral soul? anyone who drives a chevy has to, somewhere deep within themselves, enjoy this song.

this is just getting ridiculous.

i better fill one out just for wondering. lon, my very favorite unloader, talking about filling out a time adjustment sheet for wondering why the back door was unlocked on his lunch break. okay, maybe you had to have been there.

advertisement for lint rollers: ladies, do you have a pair of black pants that picks up everything but men?

she looked at me like i had three heads, and one of them was a lobster. about died laughing, thanks bsliv.

so ... i'm a loser. when they play a song on the radio that i have posted, i nearly go crazy. seriously, i crank it up, i roll the windows down, and i sing at the top of my lungs. today they played two in row ... i almost passed out. it was definitely an experience to be had.

imagine there's no heaven. it's easy if you try. no hell below us, above us only sky. imagine all the people living for today. imagine there's no countries. it isn't hard to do. nothing to kill or die for and no religion too. imagine all the people living life in peace. you may say i'm a dreamer, but i'm not the only one. i hope some day you'll join us and the world will be as one. imagine no possesions. i wonder if you can. no need for greed and hunger, a brotherhood of man. imagine all the people sharing all the world. you may say i'm a dreamer, but i'm not the only one. i hope some day you'll join us and the world will live as one. -john lennon, "imagine," we can dream.

i think i hate television. i was watching soap operas this afternoon, and when i was just about to gouge my eyes out, i changed the station to mtv. that was a mistake and a half. there's this show on called "wanna come in?" and the premise of the show is for guys to go on a date with a girl and get her to ask him to come inside at the end of the night. what?! the show sets up this dorky guy with a really "smooth" guy who sits in the inconspicuous van parked outside and gives the dork instructions on what to say to the girl on the date. then the "smooth" guy in the van has to get the dorky guy in the restaurant to make the poor girl do silly things so he can win some money, and each challenge is worth so much, and getting invited in at the end is worth one thousand dollars. what?! and so, now i feel like every date i've been on was somehow orchestrated by mtv and all the guys ever really wanted was to come inside and win some money. okay, maybe i don't feel exactly like that, but i do feel kinda cheap. expect more ranting once school starts.

point taken.

a love struck romeo sings the streets a serenade, laying everybody low with the lovesong that he made. finds a convenient streetlight, steps out of the shade, says something like, "you and me babe, how about it?" juliet says, "hey it's romeo! you nearly gimme a heart attack." he's underneath the window, she's singing, "hey-la, my boyfriend's back. you shouldn't come around here singing up to people like that. anyway, what you gonna do about it?" juliet, the dice were loaded from the start and i bet and you exploded through my heart and i forget the movie song. when you wanna realize it was just that the time was wrong juliet? come up on different streets. they both were streets of shame, both dirty, both mean, yes, and the dream was just the same. i dreamed your dream for you and now your dream is real. how can you look at me as if i was just another one of your deals? where you can fall for chains of silver, you can fall for chains of gold, you can fall for pretty strangers and the promises they hold. you promised me everything, you promised me thick and thin. now you just say, "oh, romeo, yeah you know, i used to have a scene with him." juliet, when we made love, you used to cry. you said, "i love you like the stars above, i'll love you till i die." there's a place for us. you know the movie song. when you gonna realize it was just that time was wrong juliet? i can't do the talk like they talk on tv, and i can't do a love song like the way it's meant to be. i can't do everything, but i'd do anything for you. i can't do anything except be in love with you. all i do is miss you and the way we used to be. all i do is keep the beat and bad company. all i do is kiss you through the bars of a rhyme. juliet, i'd do the stars with you any time. juliet, when we made love, you used to cry. you said, "i love you like the stars above, i'll love you till i die." there's a place for us. you know the movie song. when you gonna realize it was just that the time was wrong juliet? a love struck romeo sings the streets a serenade, laying everybody low with the love song that he made. finds a convenient streetlight, steps out of the shade, says something like, "you and me babe, how about it?" -dire straits, "romeo and juliet," edwin mccain and the indigo girls do a version of this, so of course i'm in love with it. all i do is miss you and the way we used to be, all i do is keep the beat in this rock and roll company. being kissed through the bars of a rhyme, terribly romantic.

my actual work instructions, in my actual job description: zone clearance racks regularly -- remove loose hangers and debris. now ... you tell me ... why would there be debris?! debris implies that something exploded, that wreckage exists, and that havoc has descended upon the clearance racks in ladieswear! run for your lives! sadly enough, if i had do describe the state of those racks after a saturday afternoon, debris would probably be a good word to use in my colorfully descriptive paragraph.

i don't want another heartbreak, i don't need another turn to cry. no, i don't want to learn the hard way baby, hello, oh no, goodbye. but you got me like a rocket shooting straight across the sky. it's the way you love me, it's a feeling like this, it's centripetal motion, it's perpetual bliss, it's that pivotal moment, it's impossible. this kiss, this kiss, unstoppable. this kiss, this kiss. cinderella said to snow white, "how does love get so off course? all i wanted was a white knight with a good heart, soft touch, fast horse." ride me off into the sunset, baby i'm forever yours. it's the way you love me, it's a feeling like this, it's centripetal motion, it's perpetual bliss, it's that pivotal moment, it's unthinkable. this kiss, this kiss, unsinkable. this kiss this kiss. you can kiss me in the moonlight on a rooftop under the sky. you can kiss me with the windows open while the rain comes pouring inside. kiss me in sweet slow motion, let's let everything slide. you've got me floating, you've got me flying. it's the way you love me, it's a feeling like this, it's centripetal motion, it's perpetual bliss, it's that pivotal moment, it's subliminal. this kiss, this kiss. it's criminal. this kiss, this kiss. it's the way you love me baby. it's the way you love me darling. -faith hill, "this kiss," when did i become a country girl? ew. i really like that cinderella verse, though.

i felt now that all the uncomfortable suspicions i had about myself were coming true and i couldn't hide the truth much longer. after nineteen years of running after good marks and prizes and grants of one sort and another, i was letting up, slowing down, dropping clean out of the race.

my favorite tree was the weeping scholar tree. i thought it must come from japan. they understood things of the spirit in japan. they disemboweled themselves when anything went wrong.

i tried to decide which of them had spoken. i hate saying anything to a group of people. when i talk to a group of people i always have to single out one and talk to him, and all the while i am talking i feel the others are peering at me and taking unfair advantage. i also hate people to ask cheerfully how you are when they know you're feeling like hell and expect you to say "fine."

no wonder kids grow up crazy. a cat's cradle is nothing but a bunch of x's between somebody's hands, and little kids look and look and look at all those x's ... no damn cat and no damn cradle.

restless tonight 'cause i wasted the light. between both these times, i drew a really thin line. it's nothing i planned and not that i can, but you should be mine across that line. if i traded it all, if i gave it all away for one thing, just for one thing, if i sorted it out, if i knew all about this one thing, wouldn't that be something? i promise i might not walk on by. maybe next time, but not this time. even though i know, i don't wanna know. yeah i guess i know, i just hate how it sounds. if i traded it all, if i gave it all away for one thing, just for one thing, if i sorted it out, if i knew all about this one thing, wouldn't that be something? even though i know, i don't wanna know. yeah i guess i know, i just hate how it sounds. -finger eleven, "one thing," will you be mine across that line?

i forget why and how this conversation ensued. it ended (as it often does) with me throwing my head back and crying, "waaaah, you hate me!" instead of the usual, "no, i don't hate you," i recieved something entrely different: "only 'cause you're so fat."

ain't got no regrets and i ain' losin' track of which way i'm going. ain't gonna double back. don't want no misplay put on no display. an angel? no, but i know my way. i used to follow, yeah that's true, but my following days are over. now i just gotta follow through. i remember what my fater said, he said, "son, life is simple, it's either cherry red or midnight blue." you were the restless one and you did not care. i was the trouble boy lookin' for a double dare. i won't apologize for the things i've done and said, but when i win your heart, i'm gonna paint it cherry red. i don't want to talk about it. what you do to me, i can't live without it. and you might think that it's much too soon for us to go this far into the midnight blue. things could be different but that'd be a shame 'cause i'm the one who could feel the sun right in the pouring rain. i won't say where and i won't say when, but soon there's gonna come a day. i'll be back again. yeah, i'll be back for you. you see, i'm saving up my love. -lou gramm, "midnight blue," someone paint me cherry red.

she improvised around the music; went from liquid lyricism to rasping lechery to the shrill skittishness of a frightened child, to a heroine nightmare. her glissandi spoke of heaven and hell and all that lay between. such music from such a woman could only be a case of schizophrenia or demonic possession.

i hate the world today. you're so good to me. i know, but i can't change. tried to tell you, but you look at me like maybe i'm an angel underneath, innocent and sweet. yesterday i cried. you must have been relieved to see the softer side. i can understand how you'd be so confused. i don't envy you. i'm a little bit of everything, all rolled into one. i'm a bitch, i'm a lover, i'm a child, i'm a mother, i'm a sinner, i'm a saint, i do not feel ashamed, i'm your hell, i'm your dream, i'm nothing in between. you know you wouldn't want it any other way. so take me as i am. this may mean you'll have to be a stronger mand. rest assured that when i start to make you nervous and i'm going to extremes, tomorrow i will change and today won't mean a thing. i'm a bitch, i'm a lover, i'm a child, i'm a mother, i'm a sinner, i'm a saint, i do not feel ashamed, i'm your hell, i'm your dream, i'm nothing in between. you know you wouldn't want it any other way. just when you think you've got me figured out, the season's already changing. i think it's cool you do what you do and don't try to save me. i'm a bitch, i'm a lover, i'm a child, i'm a mother, i'm a sinner, i'm a saint, i do not feel ashamed, i'm your hell, i'm your dream, i'm nothing in between. you know you wouldn't want it any other way. i'm a bitch, i'm a tease, i'm a goddess on my knees. when you hurt, when you suffer, i'm your angel undercover. i've been numbed, i'm revived, can't say i'm not alive. you know, i wouldn't want it any other way. -meredith brooks, "bitch," yes, i know how cliche this is, but aside from the mother bit, it rings true on certain days.

my familial units aren't home. i'm listening to eve 6 and dancing about the basement. i'm eating copious amounts of junk food. i'm riling up the dog with my running and yelling and whatnot. i'm updating the weblog with actual thoughts from my brain as opposed to the words of another, be it through song lyrics or quotes or the ever popular fuzzy book. my nail polish looks like hell. jason's brother is an alcoholic. no one reads this. we went to the pez museum last week. i have to be at work at 4. my back hurts. someone should buy me a camera. i think i would like to take pictures more often.

have you seen the wooly bears?! if you don't know what a wooly bear is, join the club.

c++ speaks: i hated that. i'm gonna make a mess of your life.

fabricated pork loaf in a can.

i knew the answer. the answer was "yes." i nodded. shake your head louder, jammie.

long time no post, i know. my home computer was completely trashed the last few weeks, but that's no excuse. i'm sitting in "one of the nicer" computer labs at desales, waiting for jason to get done with his aitp (association of information technology professionals) meeting. he's the president, you know. something in this room keeps beeping. it must be the "non-desales student using the lab" alarm. obviously. baloney this is "one of the nicer" labs -- the mouse doesn't even have a scroll thinger. and the connection leaves something to be desired. good gravy i'm bored. perhaps it was time for a good rant anyway. there are 2 random other people in this room. older gentlemen. not as old as my dad, but still older than me. this keyboard is really uber-noisy. i want jason to come back and get me the heck out of here. i'm creeped out. he's gonna read this sometime in the future and get all "you didn't have to come if you didn't want to!" on me. we used to have a keyboard like this at home. then we crawled out of the stone age. ahem. anyway. i think it's time to go update something else now.

i have just finished watching the film "mean girls" with lindsay lohan, and now i want so desparately to over-dramatize my life and pretend i'm in a teen movie. i feel like i'm in high school again, during student appreciation week when they'd play music while we were in the halls. sam and i used to joke how it made us feel like we were in a movie, the kind where they play hip hop music that no one listens to in real life, the kind where the pretty girls are popular and the most unpopular girl of all is the prettiest by far. i started to walk downstairs, swinging my hips more than usual, actually scheming in my head ways to make my things "more exciting," like turning my friends on each other, like making my boyfriend worry about me, like trying to complicate my life on purpose. then i came downstairs, and hit play on the cd player -- i half expected a bad dance mix or a one hit wonder pop song, but i got "strange fire," by the indigo girls. you may return to your regularly scheduled life.

people do not suffer less when they are committed to following god, but more. when these people go through suffering, their lives are often transformed, deepened, marked with beauty and holiness, in remarkable ways that could never have been anticipated before the suffering.

i was making fun of jason's sweater. both of us could have fit inside it, easily. I was grabbing it and flapping it around and i said something like, "look at how big this is!" to which he replied, "look at how big you are." par for the course, i think.

ohmygoodness. i heard john mayer perform his song "daughters" on the radio this morning. live.

saying "i love you" is not the words i want to hear from you. it's not that i want you not to say, but if you only knew how easy it would be to show me how you feel. more than words is all you have to do to make it real. then you wouldn't have to say that you love me 'cause i'd already know. what would you do if my heart was torn in two? more than words to show you feel that your love for me is real. what would you say if i took those words away? then you couldn't make things new just by saying "i love you." more than words. now, i've tried to talk to you and make you understand. all you have to do is close your eyes and just reach out your hands and touch me. hold me close, don't ever let me go. more than words is all i ever needed you to show. then you wouldn't have to say that you love me 'cause i'd already know. what would you do if my heart was torn in two? more than words to show you feel that your love for me is real. what would you say if i took those words away? then you couldn't make things new just by saying "i love you." more than words. -extreme, "more than words," i have to admit, the cover caught my eye (or ear, as it were), but my heart belongs to the original.

someone needs to shut him up. her too. they're driving me crazy. seriously. i am deathly afraid of next semester. thank god for christmas break. i am more afraid of next year than i am of next semester. nervy b. here it comes. there it goes. did you feel it woosh by? i know i did. sorry i've been so miserable. expect more of the same.

googlism.com says:
jammie is 3 years old
jammis is committed to providing all our customers with top quality goods and services
jammie is still trembling from this ordeal
jammie is a good and honest person to deal with
jammie is our baby girl
jammie is the office manager for a local insurance company
jammie is right on the funky way the weather changes from rain and dark to sun
jammie is available for one hour hitting sessions at hemingway park by appointment
jammie is the most beautiful girl that i have ever seen
jammie is the 1
jammie is the daughter of carolyn griffith and ray singleton of fruitvale
jammie is starring in a new movie by acclaimed independent filmmaker mark van hugten
jammie is on farm usage committee
jammie is an awful lump of an ould fella and likes a lack a raishar of a morning befour he heads out for a day of sectarian violence
jammie is 8 points out of first place in the standings
jammie is entilted to inherit 100 million dollars provided he's married by his 30th birthday
jammie is perfection from the ip of his ears to his straight legs
jammie is pretty cool when you get to know him he is like the kind of guy that is like "shit lets go do it" kind of guy
jammie is pointing to the celebrant of a surprise bbq that we went to
jammie is so rapt with our lot & our seafood xmas dinner
jammie is the weekday director at the baptist fellowship center
jammie is boss dog
jammie is the group's tazmanian devil and has always been a quality pilot
jammie is moving out there sometime next year to help me take over the music scene
jammie is


the weblog turns one year old somewhere in this general vicinity of time. i don't remember the exact date, but i kinda wish i did so i could throw a party or something. my greatest apologies for those of you who have kept up with it, and my severe warning for those of you who are going to try. it sure is long, i'll give you that much. pointless too. much like life. i can very clearly remember this time last year ... i remember returning christmas presents, eating ice cream, long distance love affairs, and crying like a baby at the candlelight service for a million reasons. i remember a handful of boys who i thought were men and one man who i assumed was a boy, and for that much i am truly sorry. i made a vow not to repeat artists in my lyrical presentation, but i fear i've made some gross mistakes in some of my choices. maroon 5 has much more to offer than "this love." and so, on with the story.

just before our love got lost you said i am as constant as a northern star and i said, "constant in the darkness. where's that at? if you want me, i'll be in the bar." on the back of a cartoon coaster, in the blue tv screen light i drew a map of canada. oh, canada -- and your face sketched on it twice. you are in my blood like holy wine and you taste so bitter but you taste so sweet. i could drink a case of you darling and i would still be on my feet, oh, i'd still be on my feet. i am a lonely painter, i live in a box of paints. i'm frightened by the devil and i'm drawn to those one's that ain't afraid. i remember that time that you told me, you said, "love is touching souls." surely you touched mine 'cause part of you pours out of me in these lines from time to time. you are in my blood like holy wine and you taste so bitter but you taste so sweet. i could drink a case of you darling. still i'd be on my feet, and i still be on my feet. i met a woman. she had a mouth like yours. she knew your life. she knew your devils and your deeds and she said, "color, go to him, stay with him if you can, but be prepared to bleed." oh, but you are in my blood, you're my holy wine, and you taste so bitter, bitter and so sweet. oh, i could drink a case of you darling. still i'd be on my feet. i'd still be on my feet. -joni mitchell, "a case of you," i'm prepared to bleed.

you're a song written by the hands of god. don't get me wrong, 'cause this might sound to you a bit odd, but you own the palce where all my thoughts go hiding and right under your clothes is where i find them. underneath your clothes there's an endless story. there's the man i chose, there's my territory and all the things i deserve for being such a good girl, honey. because of you, i forgot the smart ways to lie. because of you, i'm running out of reasons to cry. when the friends are gone, when the party's over, we will still belong to each other. underneath your clothes there's an endless story. there's the man i chose, there's my territory and all the things i deserve for being such a good girl, honey. i love you more than all that's on the planet, moving, talking, walking, breathing. you know it's true. baby, it's so funny, you almost don't believe it. as every voice is hanging from the silence, lamps are hanging from the ceiling. like a lady tied to her manners, i'm tied up to this feeling. underneath your clothes there's an endless story. there's the man i chose, there's my territory and all the things i deserve for being such a good girl, honey. -shakira, "underneath your clothes," i know, it's a weird one. i have been a very good girl though. it was either this or the one that has the lines about having breasts that are small and humble (so you don't confuse them with mountains). also very true. blush blush.

the dawn is breaking, a light shining through. you're barely waking and i'm tangled up in you. i'm open, you're closed. where i follow, you'll go. i worry i won't see your face light up again. even the best fall down sometimes. even the wrong words seem to rhyme. out of the doubt that fills my mind, i somehow find you and i collide. i'm quiet, you know. you make a first impression. i've found i'm scared to know i'm always on your mind. even the best fall down sometimes. even the stars refuse to shine. out of the back, you fall in time. i somehow find you and i collide. even the best fall down sometimes. even the wrong words seem to rhyme. out of the doubt that fills your mind, you finally find you and i collide. -howie day, "collide," where i follow, you'll go. how cryptic is that? i love it.

in the dim darkness of the stable, a new sound was heard; the infant cry of the newborn baby came clearly. for the first time, deity was articulated directly in sounds expressed through a human throat; god was crying.

i think he generally knows what i mean by the words i say. now if i could only find the words to say what i mean.

it's so easy to say you want to make changes, so you cut off your hair or buy new shoes or make a mix with lyrics that explain the way you want yourself to feel and think, but you can also shave your head and sit down naked in the blank quiet and you would still be the same girl.

sorry i'm a lazy bum and haven't updated in forever. i have about a thousand and one fuzzy book quotes to put up, i'll eventually get around to it. in the meantime, read the xanga, i update it way more often: xanga.com/in_the_vortex

i think part of college is having depression, and sleeping with people you don't like that much because you want to feel good for something, and crying to your mother on the phone explaining that dropping out is the best idea, and inflicting self-harm because everyone around you is so goddamn boring and average ... and then you wipe off your face and you get your shit done and you graduate. and in hindsight, it was really that simple.

you and your museum of lovers, the precious collection you've housed in your covers. my simpleness threatened by my own admission. the bags are much too heavy in my insecure condition. my pregnant mind is fat, full with envy again, but i still love to wash in your old bathwater. love to think that you couldn't love another. i can't help it. you're my kind of man. wanted and adored by attractive women, bountiful selection at your discretion. i know i'm driving into my own destruction. so why do we choose boys that are naughty? i don't fit in, so why do you want me? i know i can't tame you, but i just keep trying 'cause i love to wash in your old bathwater. love to think that you couldn't love another on your list, with all your other women, but i still love to wash in your old bathwater. you make me feel like i couldn't love another. i can't help it. you're my kind of man. why do the good girls always want the bad boys? and so i pacify problems with kisses and cuddles, diligently doubtful through all kinds of troubles, then i find myself choking on all my contradictions 'cause i love to wash in your old bathwater. love to think that you couldn't love another. share a toothbrush, you're my kind of man. i still love to wash in your old bathwater. make me feel like i couldn't love another. i can't help it. you're my kind of man. i can't help myself. -no doubt, "bathwater," i remember, some years ago, my dad and i were in the car together and this song came on the radio. at the time neither of us knew who no doubt or gwen stefani was, and i remember daddy saying "what a weird song. is she saying bathwater? that's kinda gross." i haven't heard it on the radio since then.

look at the stars, look how they shine for you and everything you do. yeah, they were all yellow. i came along. i wrote a song for you and all the things you do and it was called "yellow." so then i took my turn, oh, what a thing to have done and it was all yellow. your skin, oh yeah, your skin and bones turn into something beautiful. you know i love you so, you know i love you so. i swam across, i jumped across for you. oh, what a thing to do, 'cause you were all yellow. i drew a line, i drew a line for you. oh, what a thing to do and it was all yellow. your skin, oh yeah, your skin and bones turn into something beautiful. you know for you, i'd bleed myself dry. for you, i'd bleed myself dry. it's true, look how they shine for you. look how they shine, look how they shine for you. look at the stars, look how they shine for you and all the things that you do. -coldplay, "yellow," i don't think i understand this one yet. i can't grasp why my skin and bones aren't already something beautiful.

staring at a maple leaf, leaning on the mother tree. i said to myself, "we all lost touch." your favorite fruit is chocolate covered cherry and seedless watermelon. nothing from the ground is good enough. body rise, look what's over me. oh chariot, your golden waves are walking down upon this face. oh chariot, i'm singing out loud to guide me, give me your strength. remember seeing moon's rebirth? rains made mirrors of the earth. the sun was just yellow energy. there is a living promise land, even over fields of sand. since it's filled my body, covered me, bring it back, more than a memory. oh chariot, your golden waves are walking down upon this face. oh chariot, i'm singing out loud to guide me, give me your strength. you'll be my vacation away from this place. you know what i want, holding that cup that's pouring over the sides. you make me wanna spread my arms and fly. oh chariot, your golden waves are walking down upon this face. oh chariot, i'm singing out loud to guide me, give me your strength. give me your strength. -gavin degraw, "chariot," nothing from the ground is good enough. just yellow energy.

to see you when i wake up is a gift i didn't think could be real. to know that you feel the same as i do is a three-fold utopian dream. you do something to me that i can't explain. so, would i be out of line if i said i miss you? i see your picture, i smell your skin on the empty pillow next to mine. you have only been gone ten days, but i'm already wasting away. i know i'll see you again, whether far or soon, but i need you to know that i care and i miss you. -incubus, "i miss you," need i really say more? acoustic version to boot.

courtesy of jason: i like your tummy too -- it saved me some of your hoagie! marigold! it's my least favorite plant! your dog only has three legs ... plus an additional bonus leg! i'd have to break up with you if you ate a baby.

that shirt looks like a gay zebra.

you shouldn't bottle everything up like that ... unless you're making ketchup.

see? you're smiling again and it wasn't 'cause i'm gross!

as seen in a crossword puzzle, 59 down: sounding like an oboe.

by all means, use some time to be alone; salute thyself; see what thy soul doth wear.

they prepared for their journey and waved goodbye and slipped the surly bonds of earth to touch the face of god.

rachel and i were talking on our lunch break at work (my lunch almost always consisting of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich) about some rather personal subjects, and we came across an experience that i'd had and she had not. she was shocked for a while and after some silence, expressed her disbelief. i asked what it was that was so hard to believe. she responded: that you like pb&j, what else would i be talking about?!

store copy, guest copy, face painting and a magician. we had three reciepts at dinner. we didn't know what they were for, so i asked jason to read them.

adventures with elizabeth. sluts are usually pretty hot. i love it when i make you wheeze.

i use moisturizing soap and i hate it because i don't know when it's off!

mary kay - enriching women's lives. now, perhaps i'm being naive here, but how is selling beauty enhancement products "enriching" my life in any way? just a thought.

me to jason: can i pluck your eyebrows? jason to me: can i pluck your mustache? after much silience ... well, that ended that conversation.

let no one say and say it to your shame that all was beauty here until you came.

only when the last tree has died and the last river has been poisoned and the last fish has been caught will we realize that we can't eat money.

the creator knew that we would want to express things to him and that words wouldn't be enough. to really say what we wanted, we would need something that would move us to dance, stir our emotions, and inspire poetry. music does all that. it is the perfect tool for a soul that needs to say something. music, i think, was given to us by god so that we could, in a meaningful way, express some of his beauty back to him. music works for other things too, like when the fighter jets fly by in top gun and "danger zone" by kenny loggins is blasting, but i think it has a grander purpose -- namely connecting man with god.

i am still livin' with your ghost. lonely and dreamin' of the west coast. i don't wanna be your downtime. i don't wanna be your stupid game. with my big black boots and an old suitcase, i do believe i'll find myself a new place. i don't wanna be the bad guy. I don't wanna do your sleepwalk dance anymore. i just wanna see some palm trees. i will try and shake away this disease. we can live beside the ocean, leave the fire behind, swim out past the breakers, watch the world die. i am still dreamin' of your face, hungry and hollow for all the things you took away. i don't wanna be your good time. i don't wanna be your fallback crutch anymore. walk right out into a brand new day, insane and risin' in my own weird way. i don't wanna be the bad guy. i don't wanna do your sleepwalk dance anymore. i just wanna feel some sunshine. i just wanna find some place to be alone. we can live beside the ocean, leave the fire behind, swim out past the breakers, watch the world die. yeah, just watch the world die. -everclear, "santa monica," kyle played this for my parents the first time he met them. it was interesting.

lyrics - quotes - fuzzy book