Archive for September, 2009

A Ten Year

It is decided, your fate;

ten years of passed since last

laid head on stone. Here,

come here, sit by the tree

where a man stands in black,

your face pulled over his neck.

He weilds an ax over bone,

bone to the head of an animal.

It is decided, your fate;

you will rest in a shallow grave:

here, lay here, between old and new,

something as new as you

while the man pushes dirt

across a great slash of earth.

Little light – there is

little light to see, and sunk

into your head are maggots.

You hold in the brains, which

fell dumb like worms in the earth

to eat, to eat, to eat your ear,

because your fate was decided

in a slow grave, stood on rock:

that eternity you would not hear.


They may ruin your eyes, they might cause blindness, but they are all FREE. (Did I mention you can print them out, which would in turn not ruin your eyes?)  Yes, free. Seems the copyright expired on a few classics and it’s now legal to download them online through sources such as:

Have a ball. Go wild. And be hopeful, because there are still freebies out there.

Urine in Space

Here’s something interesting (from AOL news):

(Sept. 13) – The beautiful trail in the sky looked like a mysterious celestial event. In reality, it was urine.
Some skygazers were treated to the unexpected view of a bright sparkling glow Wednesday night, created when astronauts aboard the space shuttle Discovery dumped the waste out into space.
The water dump was a scheduled task for STS-128 pilot Kevin Ford, who poured out urine and waste water stored aboard the shuttle in preparation for a landing attempt Thursday. Weather thwarted that try, but astronauts found sunny skies in California on Friday and descended at Edwards Air Force Base to end a demanding two-week mission to the International Space Station.
The light show Wednesday was aided by an unusually large amount of water being dumped all at once – about 150 pounds (68 kg), said NASA spokeswoman Kylie Clem. Discovery had just undocked from the International Space Station the day before, and had not been able to unload waste water during the 10-day visit.
“It would have been a large quantity because we don’t do water dumps while docked to the station now,” Clem told in an e-mail. “That is a fairly new restriction over the last couple of flights in order to prevent potential contamination of the Kibo module.”
The Kibo module is a new Japanese-built research lab on the space station that includes an external platform to expose science experiments to the space environment. Water dumps from a docked shuttle could potentially pollute the experiments.
In general, though, spotting space water dumps from Earth is common, Clem said.

My life has meaning finally, because Teenage Writers is playing host to a new challenge: the Love Note Contest. At first, seeing the thread made me wary. How the heck does someone write a love note, or even find the inspiration to write a love note? I wasn’t sure. I’m still not sure. However, I wanted a challenge because it had been so long, therefore I signed up.

My first attempt fell flat. I wrote it the night of takeoff, because I had such an inspiration, and it just didn’t work. It was about fish and moons, etc. etc – all over the place, never able to stay on one topic. Too poetic, really. Today, though, I rewrote the letter, and I’m very fond of the new version. It isn’t anything like the last, but it works, stays away from cliches, and the secret isn’t revealed until the end.

Hm. Not much else to say.


Yes, sadly. I have nothing else to do, so I’m going to relay my trip to Vegas. Wish I had pictures, but I don’t, they’re all in my head.

We started out by leaving The Villages, which is a large community in Central Florida consisting of only elderly people. I didn’t look back over my shoulder as we left, though I later regretted that. From The Villages, we took the normal route of the Florida (which I haven’t the slightest inkling to share because it was a bore sight-wise). Alabama brought new sights – a marsh, but that was it. Mississippi was the usual. It was only when we came to Louisianna that I got a decent picture of the battleship (if you’re not sure what that is, look it up. Very neat). There was a traffic jam. The city was big and crystal in the distance. My mom’s boyfriend was blaring his music and I could do nothing but find things to snap pictures of (though I tried to be sparing, because the camera was disposable).

We got out of Louisianna, after the large bridge my mother is terrified of, and headed for Texas. As we crossed the border, there was a small fire, which made a nice photo (not that I like forest fires). The rest of Texas was the usual – everything I had seen before. City and more city, then it thinned out to sparser area, but not the desert yet. We rode through thriving hill country, and it was green once more. I enjoyed the sights, took pictures, rode with the cat on my lap. When we reached my first mountain in West Texas, I felt my jaw drop. I’d never seen anything so big. I took picture after picture, though this time I was riding with Johnny and not with the cat. Johnny didn’t say much, and neither did I. It rained for ten minutes. On our first day in the desert. I thought God was playing some sick joke; Mom said we had pulled the clouds along with us.

We passed mountain after mountain, all green, then canyon after canyon (one of which had a bridge spanned across it. But my mom’s boyfriend became nervous and floored it, so I couldn’t take photos.). The most amazing part of the trip was driving through the mountains in west Texas. I was actually very, very sorry to leave Texas. But then came desert, by which I was equally shocked and took pictures, and New Mexico. Driving into New Mexico, the lights were spread out before us like a complicated map of sorts. I couldn’t take pictures, then, because it was too dark. But even though it was dark, I saw border patrol searching cars, searching for illegal aliens. 

We stayed at a hotel and started up early the next morning. This time, though, we got breakfast, stopped at Wal-Mart for some supplies, and headed out on the road. At one point, we passed Mexico; it was in full view and everything. My mom pointed out the window and said, “Look, there’s Mexico.” It faded into the distance. Next came the rock canyon, which I WILL have pictures of eventually, because it was just…breathtaking. Rocks. Jagged mountainside. Indian reservation. Then the quaint little town set in the desert. The shops were too cute – like, um, Twilight Zone “too cute”. My mom and I fought for a while, then the music was too loud to fight.

We stopped again that night. Next morning, as the sun was rising, we took off. For the next fifty miles, there was nothing but desert and signs, like the signs you see on movies depicting Indian shops and such. I had the strangest urge to stop at one of the stores, but we didn’t. It was decent, then, quiet. The barren land stretched far and wide. Several times we stopped at rest areas in the mountains, and once at a gas station set on a mountainside. My mom promised me my ears would pop soon, but they never did.

The scariest part of the trip was riding in the U-Haul at night through the mountains. That could make ya crap your pants, fo sho. Looking over the mountainside and seeing blackness, and knowing, somewhere down there is a ravine and dirt and rocks.

In Pheonix, we got lost after buying some new clothing. As we drove around, trying to find our U-Haul and the person driving it, we saw a hobo fight. Two girls fighting over…a hotdog? Something like that. I laughed. And when we finally got out of Pheonix, we stopped again and traded vehicles. From there, it was a straight shoot to the Hoover Dam. Alas, though, we couldn’t get across because our load was too large. So, instead, we stopped at Del Taco for dinner. (Best tacos I’ve ever eaten.) Justin odered twenty tacos, all of which we devoured in moments. Vegas, he said, pointing to the mountains, is on the other side of those. Then he sighed, said we would have to go around, if not across. It added over one hundred miles to the journey.

Johnny didn’t talk for the rest of the time, and I saw a certain lust in his eyes. He wanted Vegas and the show girls in Vegas.

But, and I say this with finality, Vegas FINALLY became visible fifty miles out. Someone said they needed to pee. We stopped at the gas station, where my mom and her boyfriend played the slot machines. Everyone was excited after two-thousand miles of travel, travel, travel. My butt hurt.

Katy Perry’s “Waking Up In Vegas” was playing as we drove through the Strip.

All in all, I thought the experience was great. It’s something that will stay with me for the rest of my life.

Update three in a few hours. -yawns- I’ve been going around the Internet in search of old blog stuff, and here it is, for everyone’s viewing pleasure and my embarassment.


From my blog a long, long time ago, back when I was a Twilight fangirl:

Since I have yet to capture anyone’s attention, I will got in another direction: Twilight. I mean, who doesn’t love the new hit series by Stephenie Meyer? She’s, like, my favorite author of all time. I can’t wait for the movie this month!

My friends are all saying that the movie will ruin the book. Does anyone have any different opinions?

Personally, I didn’t expect the characters to look like they did, so it was a big shocker when I finally saw the cast for the first time. Bella maybe, but not the rest. Especially Edward, Jasper, and Rosalie. I expected something completely impossible, I guess. After all, they can’t just come up with inhumanly beautiful people out of the blue. Not even computers could do that.

Just remember November 21st, people!

Who else has been reading the Maximum Ride series? I’m on the third book. It’s been cool so far, but there are some parts that move along too fast or are a bit too sarcastic for my liking. The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants series was great. I’m still working on The Olympian Series by Rick Riordan. It’s really good so far; I’m impressed.

My novel that I wrote – my first novel was just fiction, but my second one had to do with fantasy fiction; monsters, and the City of Gold, and some other things that I can’t post because it’s not yet copyrighted.

Has anyone else written a book on this website? I’d like to know – I enjoy giving my opinion on things. E-mail or leave a comment if you have.

That is – if anyone actually takes the time to read this. Ha ha. 🙂


Another, somewhere around the timeframe of the last:

Something happened last night that was…uh, funny, I guess. My grandmother, who does not get along with my sister, Brooke, happened to come into the kitchen while Brooke and I were washing our hands in her sink – which she’s told us a million times not to do. Well. We were, and she got miffed, yelled at us, and then left the room.

Brooke and I sat down at the table after washing our hands so that we could dig into a chocolate donut. (Brooke was really the only one who was eating a donut. She loves food.)

Just seconds later, my grandmother comes out and asks, “How do you spell sink? S – n – i – k?”

Me, suppressing laughter: “Um, no. Actually it’s s – i – n – k.” Brooke was also doing her best to keep composure; the corners of her mouth quivered slightly.

My grandmother merely nodded and left us to wonder what the heck she was up to. Brooke bust into hysterical giggling. Me – I knew that she could be doing anything. Ratting us out, particularly. Not that it really concerned me.

She entered again, but this time I had my back to her. She was in the kitchen, messing around with something. Brooke looked amused as she watched our grandmother.

Finally, I asked, “What are you doing?” and swivelled in my chair to face her. She was taping a piece of paper up on the cabinet next to the sink. I frowned and read it:


If you are not Grammy,
if you are not mommy (Lisa),
please don’t wash your hands in this sink!

So there you have it. I guess that everybody is entitled to their own possession’s, but that may have been going a little far. But anyway, Brooke found it hilarious. She writhed with laughter. My grandmother was serious about it, though.

My first response was, “I don’t read English,” but I’m naturally a Smart-Alec.
I didn’t really laugh. I thought of it as a menace – now I had no reason to say, “Well, I forgot about that rule.”

At any rate, I guess it was funny, but our family does that sort of stuff – we even label food to show who’s is who’s. If anyone ate anyone else’s, you would be screamed at to no end, not to mention nagged to death. It was the most literal kind of food fight that I could recall.

(And that was just last week!)

We’re not food-fighting anymore – that I know, at least. It was all caused by he-said-she-said kind of thing. Hopefully we’ll all learn to share soon.


Then, from my other blog, which was more recent:

On April 28, 2009, I wrote

I’ve joined several writing communities over the last six months, finding only one that I actually took away from. Since then I’ve learned the hard way that my rhyming poetry sucked beyond belief; I have skipped over to prose in poetry. So far I think I am soaring pretty smoothly. My prose had advanced, my novel is pulling along great (this is the fourth time I’ve rewritten it), and my life is solid for a change. Today I hit ninety thousand words on the novel rewrite, so I’m exceptionally stoked about that.

Hm…not much more to say.

May 14, 2009: A Dreary Day

Today was pretty rough; I didn’t sleep until around two, and even then I only slept for four or so hours, leaving me in a sleep-deprived stupor. Hopefully I’ll pull from it soon, for my writing is among the many things suffering as a result of my mental absence. Perhaps tomorrow I will find my shoestrings and tie my fraying seems together once more. Perhaps, perhaps with some rest…

Since good news might be scant for the next few weeks, something decent came from my mental parchness. I’ve a writing website now, always on the lookout for members and the like. I love to share my writing abilities with others.

June 7, 2009: Pause

I might be tossing my book aside for a moment while I write another. This is only because I’ve no more inspiration at the moment for Through the Glass – my focus is temporarily shifting to another, more urgent project. Despite this, I will not give up on my first. It will be avenged!

June 8, 2009: Life Happens

And so, with our things packed up and our hearts feeling heavy, my family will be moving to Vegas next week. It’s Florida, I think – it’s the economy – it’s the housing prices. Choose one, because I have no excuses remaining. The move is sudden and startling – the idea being conceived only last week. I recall that at one point we were going fast, watching the world in a chaotic blur, propelling in one direction, and now we’ve paused and are turning around. My grandparents don’t even know yet. And, alas, this move also means I will not be using the Internet for the longest time; my writing would, in turn, suffer. As well as this blog and my site.

Okay, well, it might be a while.

June 19, 2009: Vegas

In short: my grandparents now know of my move to Vegas. I e-mailed them. Tonight or tomorrow we go to the Strip, for MGM or something. Yesterday we went to see a cheesy pirate show with half-naked dancers, and I walked away before it could conclude. I worked on my novel today, for an hour before giving into mental exhaustion.

Not much else has happened.


Those were all that I’m willing to show. Hopefully someone has a laugh.

I wanted to let everyone (or my imaginary everyone) know that my blog is broken. Yes, cry for me. Until I can get it fixed, format might be off. Sorry.

Since I didn’t post yesterday to honor the New York firefighters and the ones lost in the tragedies of 9/11 (and thank you to any firefighters who read this blog and this post), I’m trying to compensate by bringing any listeners the surreal. Don’t ask questions. Just follow the link and listen. It’s amazing. Unnerving. Preferably if you sit in a chair at the middle of the room. By yourself, that is. Now, close your eyes. It works ONLY with headphones. Just listen. (And no, it’s nothing scary or inappropriate for little ears!)


EDIT: There are more! Good Lord, are there more! Check it out. – Quite a few recordings.









Today is

another boring day. As usual. The house is empty, and I’m home alone, conviced that an elongated state of boredom can kill. Or create some weird shiz. Been listening to music all morning, some Smooth (song), bad rap, and anything else that could induce a state of un-boredom (as hip-hop usually will).

Needless to say, it hasn’t worked.



You Are You Are You Are You

It’s a small world. I can say a word and someone faraway will hear. Someone will tell an ear, and mouth to ear, mouth to ear for years and years in never-ending cycles of gossip. Every age we advance, yet we’re losing our primidoral selves to technology in a box. We’re thinking inside it, speaking inside it. “Hello. It is me.” Ever long-distance calls and words exchanged. My words. It never ceases to be. We’re chasing ghosts if we think we can stop it. Once it’s out, it’s for everyone to see. Don’t keep a journal. Don’t write yourself a diary. Your head is the place to be, like the inside of a pit. Black and cozy. Wait for me. No; their novice is gone and through new eyes they’ll see. You. It’s what you’re a afraid of: you. Seeing yourself. God forbid there be a mirror near. Look into it and glance away. It isn’t nice to see, not this: ragged hair and large front teeth. Wish they’d fall out, though every time they do your words become slurred. And words. Words. Your words. A little piece of you is gone through the phone. Now someone will look in their mirror, cast a sideways glance through sunken eyes, and see you.