diana (me) -- this website's owner/operator; 15/f


patsy -- poet and dreamer; 16/f


meredith -- humorist and saint; 16/f


him -- hunter and listener; 16/m


'fred' -- counselor and taxi; 17/m




20:17;   Let your private emotion come to me...
I am home alone right now. I have turned off the fan (the way I like it), closed the blinds, played music, and lit three candles surrounding me. Each candle, to me, represents something. One (the vanilla) represents love. The carrotcake-scented is of rejection. (That one is closest to me.) The last one -- chocolate -- represents death. That is equal distance to me as from the vanilla-scented one. I guess I'm saying that love equals death sometimes. And that rejection is so close that you can feel it's burning sensation with your fingertips.
The innocent couple that died in the car wreck... I went to school with their son. Patsy's father said the son was bawling at the visitation. It seems so hard to imagine losing two people that instantly. They said they were going to help a friend, and that they'd be right back. What was he doing that night as they left? On a computer? Reading a book? Did they mention that they loved him? That life was going to be OK? Or did they just say a "bye" and vanished?
I haven't talked to Him in three or four days. He went upstate a few days ago for a daytrip to get a boat or whatnot. I called His house an hour ago. His grandmother mentioned that He wasn't home. I sat in my room at this point and watched everything just pass me by as if I wasn't even there. Perhaps the feeling of rejection was hitting me at this point. Or ignorance. And that love was getting so far away.
I spent the night at Her house last night. I got a page from my mom around 9:30, which is odd since she is usually asleep by 9:00 or earlier... especially after the surgery. I called the house, and she says, "Diana, I love you. That is all I wanted to say." That alone made the evening worth it.


15:19;   I've decided that I am going to put blond streaks in my hair. Not thin ones like last time -- no, that was a waste of time. They will be bigger, messier chunks. It'll look quite fabulous with my red hair. I'm not doing this today, because I have somewhere to go at 5 PM for the rest of the day. My mom will end up doing it tomorrow.
I am also wearing makeup today. This isn't a shocker unless if you know me personally, I guess. I never wear makeup, because I tried doing so in 7th grade and came to school looking like I was playing in my mother's "pretty color" box or something. But all I'm wearing is eyeliner. "Midnight", it's called. I wonder who makes up the names to these things... especially to those teenybopper companies'. "Pretty Peachy Pink" or whatever... I want to meet one of those creative minds one day.
Last night wasn't really a Hell. It was just an aggrivation inside of me that was somewhat eating my insides outwards. I finally got to bed around 1 AM, after continuously pulling in and out my futon's conversion to a bed. (I finally slept on it as a bed, and not a "couch.") I lit candles, and blew out each one a minute later. I said a few words of randomness before I went to bed, listening to the suddenly-soothing Angie Aparo's "Spaceship" on the radio. I actually like that song-- or, at least the first 40 seconds of it.


23:34;   "...and it's hard to hold a candle in the cold November rain."

14:30;   Clue is such a good movie that you just want to watch it again and again and wonder how it all ties together. I've only seen the full movie once, which was when I rented it. I've seen parts of it on Comedy Central a few times, but never the fullout thing. Maybe it's Tim Curry being in the movie that makes it all good.
Until last November, I was hosted at Angelfire. While I was there, I got a JavaScript that I called The Scrawl Wall. I realized today that it is still active. And while we're playing with Java, why not DJ? (Link stolen from Ms Zannah.)
I'll be creative later.


23:17;   Oops, I didn't know I couldn't speak my mind...
It's amazing what one can do with themselves over a 24-hour period. It's really odd for me, at least. I cut my own hair around midnight last night, just to satisfy my urges of teenage angst. I dyed my hair a red today that barely shows up unless if I have sunrays glaring down at me. The hairstyle's odd. The hair in the front was cut. I didn't do the back because the back didn't bother me, and I couldn't reach it easily. And I didn't want to make it obvious to my parents of what I have done. (They have yet to mention my haircut.) My bangs/fringe are mid-neck legnth. The rest of it is at the collarbone level. On each side of my face, I cut a top layer of my hair to the length of my ears. It kind of makes it look more indepth. I made my part off the middle. I want to cut it shorter. I might get that done professionally so that I know that I don't mess it all up. I'll debate either doing it myself or having a "professional" doing it, or having some friend go at it. Maybe Patsy. I mean, she cut her own hair and it looks quite awesome. Either way, I'll have a picture of this current hairstyle soon. I'll probably change it a million times in the next few days. I want it to look a bit more "grungy", I guess. I'll decide on a look and idea soon.
I also bought another Tori Amos CD today at WalMart. I have yet to listen, or look at, it. I've just been busy with other things today to have a free hour or two to go through the CD. I'll probably do that tonight sometime, and add a few songs onto a mixed tape I'm making for Patsy. I need new tapes. I need new CDs. I need inspiration in my life.
For summer vacation, I have been assigned to read To Kill a Mockingbird and A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. I read a few pages of To Kill a Mockingbird, watched part of the movie version, skimmed through as much as I could handle of the PlotBytes version, and bought the Cliff Notes. No alternative information on A Tree Grows in Brooklyn has surfaced except for the movie version. I might actually read a book this summer... yes, gasp as much as you wish to.
I have been trying to stay away from TV shows (except for one in particular) for no purpose whatsoever. After watching nearly as much TV as I did last night, I feel guilty.


19:24;   I have this weird habit of putting acrylic paint on my face. My last art teacher thought I was a genius. My parents, on the other hand, blame this fetish on some psycological problem from my youth. I don't know whom is correct.
I painted my lips blue today. Royal blue. With the tiniest paintbrush I have. My lips looked irregular after I was done, enlarged and fake. I had to wash it off before my parents saw me doing this. They'd yell at me for wasting paint and messing up my bad paintbrushes. I quickly let the water rush over my lips. Moved my lips over the edges, letting the paint's watery surface smear over to my cheeks and drip down my neck into the sink. I rubbed it further into my cheeks, letting myself become the paint.
My cheeks and fingers have a blue tint to them. There are a couple of dry patches of paint on my inner lip. I later stuck a babypin in my mouth, letting my blood escape from my gums. That made my painting -- my creation -- me -- feel more completed.
Happy independance day.

11:37;   I go back to school mid-August. Which is closer than you think. Since June went by so damn fast... it seems like yesterday when I was laughing in the hallway on the last day of school after 7th period. That's the first thing I did when we were dismissed. I laughed really hard, then cascaded down the hallway as if summer was the best thing ever invented. And every summer I learn the same thing--
Being out of school can get really boring if you do nothing.
Which is what I have done all summer thus far. Nothing. I sat in front of this computer and looked at nearly one hundred different blogs a week. I've changed the layout for this page every other day, just to satisfy my mood swings and inspirations from looking at what other pages have done to have people say, "Wow, look at that design." The only design of mine that stayed up for more than a week was the one with the Nike Presto! tv on it. Which I was impressed with at first, but then after seeing it nearly 12 hours a day then I got tired of it. Understandable, I guess.
We took my grandmother to the airport yesterday. The house seems suddenly very... sedated. Quiet. Numb. Calm. It seems very weird not having someone glaring over my shoulder watching every little thing I do. Or having someone asking to check the Pennsylvania lottery results every morning. I like it better when relatives don't visit.
I read yesterday through Ms Zannah that N Sync is getting their own lipglosses. Lance gets blue-raspberry, Chris has strawberry, JC gets watermelon, Justin (the bastard) is represented by MY favorite: vanilla, and Joey is stuck with green apple. They probably had no input with it all-- just sign a contact, get a flavor. And to think that I used to listen to their debut album all the time...
My favorite website, Spinnwebe.com, has reopened my favorite feature, 1-900-ZWEBLÖ7. I cannot express how happy I am about that.
I took advantage of WinZip and downloaded that and lots of fonts for my computer. One font that I like in particular is called Corinne. I'll try to coordinate new fonts in future layouts, and perhaps make a logo or something. Or make some type of font my logo. Not sure yet of the possibilities. But nothing big (except the layout) will ever change on this site.
I also found out something late last night: you cannot listen to Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody" with only one earphone on.


20:36;   If you were to die right now, how would you want to be remembered? As a hero? A dreamer? A genius? What if you weren't remembered that way?
I've been thinking a lot about death this afternoon. Mainly because I saw a dead body today. Patsy's father has the most awesome job of working at a funeral home, and we stopped by there so she could scan some photos. And there it was. In a coffin, waiting for the family and friends to come and say their goodbyes. It must be hard for them. For them to go there to say goodbye to someone they love. It was a welcoming place, though. One of Patsy's friends (I'll call her that for now.) was with us. We were waiting out in a hallway until Patsy could find her way to a copier machine. I turned to my right into a room, and it was in a coffin staring back at me. I nudged Patsy's friend and said, "Look at that." She automatically replied with a "That's creepy" and ended up pushing her way into the office where Patsy was. I didn't see how it could be eerie or creepy. It was beautiful. She - the lady in the coffin - was beautiful. She looked rested, as if she was ready to leave the world behind.
I never had a problem with death. If anything -- whether it be a person I read in the newspaper or the bug on the wall -- dies, I grief for a few moments and then accept the fact of fate coming to them. I believe in fate. I don't really believe in a Hell or Heaven, since we've all done some form of sin in our lives. But I'm getting offtopic.
Neither of my parents believe in funerals. They find funerals pointless to attend because it's "only staring at a dead body". I don't consider it just that. Both my parents want to be cremated, and if I die before them then I will most likely be cremated as well. No choice on my behalf. If I was cremated, then I would (seriously) want to be molded into a pot of some sort. Or maybe even part of me could be mixed with clay and formed into a pot or bowl shape. I would want the rest of me to be scattered over the mountains. I always loved mountains.
I'm listening to Radiohead's "Paranoid Android". That's what caused me to write about my thoughts on death.

12:04;   Here is my simple drawing, done last night around midnight on a whim that I could reach my goal of creating a somewhat eerie stick figure. I though I did pretty good, don't you? Don't deny it. Yeah.
I'm going to see Fantasia 2000 today. In an hour and half, and I haven't even showered yet. I didn't see Fantasia because I thought it was just boring. But I was a immature 9 year old at the time, so it didn't matter to me. Maybe I'll see it in a different light. From the ads I saw awhile back, it looks semi-religious.
My grandmother is getting on a plane tomorrow afternoon. I'm going with my father to the airport. (My mom is still too "disabled" to do much of anything.) The only reason I'm going is acting as a "crutch" on my father's part. He can't stand being alone with my grandmother, because she wants to always talk about family problems and he's not into that. (I don't think anyone but her is.) And with me there, neither of them will bring up family problems. And thus everyone is happy. Plus, I love airports.
I slept four hours last night. Four very short hours, at that. From 2 AM to 6 AM. Tossing, turning. I drew out a design last night (it involved frames-- if you were here earlier today, you saw it.) and then put a new one in there about thirty minutes later because the first design was bothersome. I can't handle frames sometimes, they're just very tempermental. Plus, I thought simplistic designs for a simplistic life such as mine deserve to be together. Hope you understand.
I had a long chat with Matt last night. I also got a new voicemail message from this guy. That's when I finally logged into my account at Ureach.com and realized that they didn't inform me for nearly six or seven of the voicemail messages in there. Bastards. If you want to give me a call, then feel free to: 877-708-7846, extension 957. I re-recorded the message last night, too, because I personally thought an update was needed... and that I sounded terrible in the first recording. So I sound very superficial in the second one-- really fake, really flaky. I should also admit that I wrote down what I was going to say on the message itself. The first version of it had me calling myself "fantastic" and asking to admit the caller's favorite color. I also had problems ending the recording thing on it (my cordless phone is really weird like that.) so everytime that I recorded my message -- including the message that's currently on there -- I have pressed the "pound" key (#) with my tongue. All except for once, when I dropped the phone.
I got a new People magazine a few days ago, with "America's 100 most eligible bachelors". Amongst the list: Steve Burns ("Blue's Clues" host), Jimmy Fallon, JC Chasez (of N Sync), Conan O'Brien, Mark McGwire, and Robert Siegel. All in all, I don't think it's really worth the issue to mention some of these people who would never even glance at some of the people who read People. And what about the male gender who reads People? I mean, there's pages and pages of these guys in tight shirts and boxers and carrying flowers... three things that the (straight) male world doesn't really want to look at too closely. But, then again, there's those seductive feminine lips in those Dannon advertisements amongst that area of the magazine to keep the guys interested...

April, April, Chad, Ernie, Evan, Firda, Fred, Grace, Heather, Jack, Jason, Jerwin, Jessica, Jish, Liz, Matt, Meg, Mike, Neale, Nikolai, Patti, Tom, Tom
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