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

 

 

20001007

12:58;   We strayed away last night after She had started to sleep and another had begun to drift away from everything else. Slowly, the three of us -- one being tall and thin, the next being shorter with long blond locks, and the third being me -- crept through the silent house. It was all dark except for the illustration on Patsy's shirt. She led the way to Her bedroom. We entered... and closed the door til a fine slit of the outside was available... and waited.
"So, what's the plan?" I asked as I tied my worn pair of shoes. Patsy looked at her reflection in the mirror, gave a look to me, and said "We're just going to take a walk." I think I nodded -- I don't really remember every detail. It's all kind of a loop of my mind.
I took off my shoes again, crept through the house (Patsy in the lead), and we -- the three adventurers -- escaped silently through the front door. Gasping for breath (for god knows what reason), we stood there at the front steps, the glow from the front porch's light shining down upon us as if we had reached the brinks of Heaven itself. We put our shoes on, and walked. It was all confusing at first, and then slowly enough -- well, it all got clear. Everything slowly started to make sense to us. Eventually, we ended up in a subdivision, where homes were being built and trees had been knocked down. No one really lived there yet -- things were still settling in, and trying to make sense. We stood at the corner of a road, and looked up -- as if it were all on cue. The sky was beautiful. There was no real way to describe the feeling of seeing it all -- as if everything was new and refreshed. I think at this time, a light wind blew through us. It doesn't matter.
I sat down on the rough pavement, feeling every rock and sand bit rubbing against my thighs and upper legs. The girl with us sat next to me. Patsy moved down a little bit, facing away from us. In one swift movement, she laid down. We proceeded to follow. There is no utter word to describe the feeling we had -- it was as if everything was at us, and we were at everything. I wonder if there's a word for that. We laid there for a minute, every now and then a curse word would pursue from one of our lips in the form of a light whisper. I think I did it the most. It doesn't matter, anyway.
Eventually, we got up, and proceeded on our journey.

20001006

06:36;   Why, good morning.
My mom is talking to the cat. Perfectly normal. She puts on some weird rap song in the living room. Perfectly normal. She's braless and wearing a white angora shirt that shows her midriff. Perfectly normal.
I am obviously not my mother's child.
I don't think I'm my father's child, either. I don't resemble either of my parents, minus the hair/eye color factor I share with my father. Whereas, my younger brother is a near-exact double of what my father looked like when he was young (on the same level, my father looks exactly like what my grandfather -- whom I have never met -- looked like when he was my father's age), and my mom says that my younger brother looks like a male version of herself. My older brother (who in the reality of it all, is my father's son, and my mother's step-son) has the hair color and the smile that my father has. It's eerie watching both of them smile at the same time.
And here I sit, the outsider. My mother always told me that I was "the mailman's kid." I know they're joking, but it just sometimes seems so true.

20001004

21:22;   This, ladies and gentlemen, is my savior. The ultimate lyrics page for one of the greatest movies ever born out of Disney's perverted bum: Beauty and the Beast. If you've never seen the film, then proceed to slap yourself swiftly across the face, go to your local Blockbuster -- as ungodly of a place as it is -- and rent it. If not for yourself, then for me.
Speaking of movies, it's kind of eerie knowing that my first and last name is in a 1965 movie... as a character that sleeps her way to stardom. And it's even stranger that His name is featured in a movie as a psycho killer. It's probably even scarier knowing that some people have their names not appearing in one, but in a few places. (The same goes for a elitist -- appearing in foreign films, as well as another in a drama and a western. However, no Hourihans, Kottkes, or even a Jerwin to be found.)
So, anyway. If you cannot see Beauty and the Beast, sit around at your $2000 (give or take) box and pretend that this picture is moving. Maybe play some reggae with it to get the full effect. It's all up to you.

16:39;   Patsy, She, and I went to Barnes and Noble, finally. It was well-needed, and well-endowed (to use a nice metaphorical phrase). I bought Go Ask Alice, which I have yet to have the honor of reading. I still have to finish The Diary of Anne Frank (or, if you prefer: Anne Frank: Diary of a Young Girl) for History, Sherlock Holmes for Biology, and Dreamworld for Patsy. I'll get around to reading Go Ask Alice. It looks really good. I'm halfway through with Anne Frank (even though at this point, I could make a report out of it), haven't even glanced at Sherlock, and am halfway finished with Dreamworld. I give myself the deadline of Christmas to get every last one of them done.Maybe even before that -- I could get stubborn.
I've also found a fanatic in me. I've grown to love Rollercoaster Tycoon to a point of wanting to play it more than -- gasp! -- go online. Yes, yes, it's shocking. Yes, it's not "human". Yes, I like building imaginary theme parks that I give names like "Diana's Fortress" rather than typing up lovely messages for you to read.
Now, if you excuse me, the CD is calling my name.

06:53;   Oh, Jesus, I need to start sleeping more often.

20001003

15:57;   There is this character in the book Speak named Andy. He raped the main character, and then denies it wildly the next school year. The situation that is in the book is similiar to my relationship with my exboyfriend that goes to my school, not to be confused with Ex. (I will call my exboyfriend Beast from now on, a dedication to the nickname given to Andy in Speak.)
Beast and I dated for three days. I had a crush on him for a year before we dated, and he finally forced me into dating him. We kissed three of four times, after we had broken up. He was my first french kiss, and forced things upon me. He touched my body and asked me questions about stuff that I don't even mention to Him (my boyfriend). And now he's at my school. And he's after fresh meat.
Turns out, this fresh meat is someone who is naive and thinks that he isn't the type that would do anyone -- or anything -- wrong. Nevermind the fact that Beast had a hangover today, or that he hangs around particularly with the girls with big chests and bleach-blond hair. Nevermind any of that, he's the sweet boy next door. I don't want anyone to even look at him, much less date him.
But, you know what. Beast should date this friend. This friend should believe it when people say that he does everyone wrong. But if she doesn't believe what the people are saying, maybe she should just get it all with a bitter taste in her mouth.

20001002

21:54;   He didn't visit. I don't think that it matters anymore, anyway. I haven't studied for History class, and the test is tomorrow. It -- the test -- is the last this marking period, and I think that I need the good grades in order to make it all count. So I am getting offline for the evening so I can study for the test. Please, send email of support (or sign my out of date guestbook or the slambook). I just really want some sort of virtual support. I'll love you if you sign any of them.

16:05;   I have come to the conclusion that I hate Tripod when they decide to hate me. "Bugs" have been in Tripod's system, as if I would believe that excuse. I've heard it too many times, and each and every time, I have blamed Blogger for my problems. Oh, how intriguing it is when Tripod decides to fuck me over.
I've had a long day. Last night, He and I got into a "discussion" (no loud voices were used, thus it was not a fight) involving amnesia chick, which is His best friend. "I don't see you actually enjoying being on a 4-wheeler, going through the woods at night," He said, "but it just seems like something she would do." And He just called asking where she was. And now He's asking if He can see me tonight. How will my schedule be altered, you ask? Well, I was planning on studying tonight (which I shall do in a moment's time), watching "The Daily Show" at 7:00, then "Strangers with Candy" at 10:00. We'll just have to see what happens with the evening moving on.

20001001

16:18;   Hello, hello, hello! I am back from my "vacation". And what do I have to show for this? A mild sunburn, drooping black marks under my eyes, the most untame hair I've ever had (minus the day of 3rd grade when photos were taken) and a confused mind. Nothing out of the ordinary, I suppose. I saw my brother, went on a three hour tour upon a big boat, hung out at a nifty hotel watching movies available on HBO, and got up every morning before everyone else just so I could get a USA Today before the lobby ran out. (By the way, our hotel room was right here, marked with a very pretty little arrow.)
I'll be sure to give you my journalistic viewpoints of the experience soon.

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