Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in alkalinerock's LiveJournal:

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Monday, August 22nd, 2005
1:17 pm	ahoy Just got back from surfing and I'm making a cd oh boy! One week... Current Mood: content Current Music: blue eyes - garden state (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, August 10th, 2005
9:15 am	lalalala Wow, I haven't updated this in AGES. Um yeah so I went to debate camp for four weeks and everybody who went to camp but nobody who didn't will understand how much I miss it. I've just spent the last hour looking through photos of our lab and I want to go back somehow. Lucky five weekers... I should be okay, I finished all my summer homework, and the current question is should I a) write my speech for next year, b)write two or three college essays or c) do neither like all other rational human beings? Current Mood: nostalgic Current Music: brand new colony - the postal service (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Friday, July 15th, 2005
11:15 am	see below I'm in lab. Muaha. Current Mood: amused Current Music: none (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Monday, June 6th, 2005
10:20 pm	ach! Okay so life's pretty good right now...FOUR freaking days until I'm a senior...weird!! One positive about missing the finals week is that I'm officially done with Junior year a week before all my classmates. Muaha. But the sad part is that I don't get my yearbook until either RIGHT before I leave or after nationals. Right. So I'll look back on this year and see it's the year with no signatures...*shudder*. Anyway...so my day was pretty good. Woke up deleriously and convinced my dad that I didn't need to be woken up. I woke up in my shower thirty-five minutes after I was supposed to wake up, and I stumbled into my car and barely made it to serve delicious rice krispies to an equally tired English class. Last Monday of Lapadula, makes me want to cry. We brought waaaaaaaay too much milk. I practically slept through two decades presentations. That was fun. At lunch I went to my last debate officer meeting ever. Kinda sad, all I did was sign a thank you note to Mr. Levy. Spanish was weird, for the first time EVER, the class went fast, and I worked adamently and turned in all my work and projects. Mijares is ridiculously impossible in class and surprisingly nice outside of class. After school, lifted some weights, ate piles of food, did math, dabbled in some decades and math project work, went to the pool. All in all, a pretty good day. And guys, when I answer "only virginity, but that doesn't count" on a LIVEJOURNAL SURVEY to answer the question "have you stolen anything in the last month?" please keep in mind I'm likely to be kidding. Ugh. So let's practice, shall we? Austin's Livejournal: I had sex! Audience's reaction: I have a feeling he's kidding. Good. Now that we worked that out, I'm going to go eat dairy. Current Mood: complacent Current Music: smitten - the storrow band (Comment on this)
Tuesday, May 31st, 2005
5:28 pm	oooh I love Blink 182! Haha I'm so busy. Only 900 projects left and eight days to do them in while i fervently try to remember my speech and prepare for my only chance to take the SAT. Yipee! Current Mood: chipper Current Music: carosel - blink 182 (5 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, May 26th, 2005
5:26 pm	essay! Absolutely no joke, and ask anyone who knows me well. This essay was my favorite assignment in any class all year, and of high school it's a close contender with my crime and punishment essay for funness levels. Without further ado. ----------------------------------- Faulkner’s Paradox: On Southern History and the Allure of Decline By Austin Uhler AP English Language Mrs. Lapadula May 26, 2005 John Pendleton Kennedy started out in Swallow Barn making fun of Tidewater Virginia and ended up sentimentalizing and finally eulogizing it as an image of an ideal America. Why did this happen? Kennedy himself was no planter; he was the son of a Baltimore merchant…deeply rooted was the plantation myth, (Porter 262). From the earliest colonial period to the present day, the South has occupied a unique niche in history. This distinctive “Southernness” encompasses both the specific events which have shaped its people and the longstanding beliefs which they hold to cope with the trials of Southern life. Intellectuals have spilled oceans of ink on this subject. In the above excerpt from Carolyn Porter’s article “Faulkner’s America,” Porter records author John Pendleton Kennedy in the act of passing on an image of the early South as ideal: a haven of rural values and community and religious cohesion. But did Kennedy manufacture this image, or was it rather a subconscious attachment to the South which naturally took hold of his mind and pen? The answer lies in the dual evaluation of Southern history and the literature which blossomed out of it. As Robert Penn Warren summarized, “The South in which Faulkner had grown up in – particularly the rural South – was cut-off, inward-turning and backward-looking. It was a culture frozen in its virtues and vices,” (Warren 244). But it was also during Faulkner’s life when the venerable images and ideals of the South were thrown into question, and it is in that period when literature evolved. The thematic and stylistic composition of Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury sprang from the well of changing social attitudes as the South came to terms with the inevitability and self-imposed nature of its decline. Southerners have historically idealized the past as a time of heroic individualism; they have conceptualized the South as an elegiac place where the season is always a mellow autumn. The Sound and the Fury both emerged from and redefined these settings. The Social Legacy of Defeat One common image of the South is that of white-suited and white-hatted politicians, vehemently defending slavery and states’ rights during Congress’ sectional debates of the 1850’s. These politicians, obsessed with their own propriety and aristocracy, led the ultimate charge into the Civil War with the secession of South Carolina and subsequent secessions in ten other states. And up to 1865, the South was always victorious in military concerns, whether it faced Britain, Mexico, or any of a multitude of Native American tribes. But in C. Vann Woodward’s article “The Irony of Southern History,” he distinguishes the North and West of America with a “legend of success and victory, a legend that is not shared by any other people of the civilized world…whether by luck, by abundant resources, by ingenuity, by technology…America has overcome every major historical crisis,” (Woodward 242). Clearly North and West have reached a position of Empire matched only by Great Britain in the 1800’s and by Rome during the Pax Romana. The South, however, shares no such legend, nor such grand credentials. Woodward especially distinguishes the South in that “it had learned the equally un-American lesson of submission,” (246). The antebellum South was linked by cultural and economic similarities, but the postwar South was linked most by military defeat, occupation and reconstruction. This wedge in the chronological history of the South divides time into two periods: the past, in which property owners were the stewards of all freedom and opportunity, and the present, in which submissive generations attempt to, but cannot, emulate the memories of the past. For Faulkner specifically, the military history of the defeated South provided much to burden the minds and consciences of his characters. Quentin’s neurosis and self-torture are not served by his name, a reminder of the brave soldier who fought on a “Georgia battlefield,” (appendix 204) decades earlier. Also, Faulkner leaves the reader with a lasting image, an imposing marble Confederate soldier in the town square, to juxtapose against the Compsons. In the final scene, its distant glory highlights the less-than-heroic pursuits of the present, including the rage of Jason, the cowardice of Quentin, and the mental incapacity of Benjy. And just as the South as a political entity learned to surrender its ideals to the North, the people of the South learned to surrender their present to a manufactured past. Southern History as Nonhistory Though the defeat of the Confederacy in the Civil war can be considered the turning point in Southern history, the concept of “history” itself can take on a unique meaning when examined from a Southern perspective. Robert Penn Warren divides the South’s image of itself into history-as-action and history-as-ritual in his article “Faulkner: Past and Future.” History-as-action, he explains, occurs when a society rigorously learns from history, applies history and most of all experiences history. This is the history that guides the peoples of most first world nations. History-as-ritual, in contrast, “offer[s] an image of massive immobility in all ways, an image, if one was romantic, of the unchangableness of the human condition, beautiful, sad, painful, tragic…[the South was] the place where history had been…had died, and could be contemplated,” (Warren 244). For Southerners, their inability to experience history stemmed from two related phenomena. First is the “plantation legend:” the South’s initial basis for societal structure. Orchestrated along strict patriarchal lines, every division of young, old, white, black, male and female was neatly fitted into a familial pattern. This organizational method set the standard from which to measure other social movements; it is uniquely Southern in its treatment of blacks, women and the Grandfather generation, and it is in this treatment that the second social phenomenon comes into play. The Freudian concept of the “family romance” expresses itself on a widespread scale in the Southern hierarchy. The family romance involves maturing children who, when confronted with information that indicates that their parents are no longer perfect, construct fanciful stories of adoption or escape to explain the absence of the ideal parents. In other words, it is natural human instinct to believe that ideal human forms exist, but that they exist at a distance and removed in time. The Southern history-as-ritual re-enforces the family romance by romanticizing and linking a Grandfather to a Grandson, while portraying the father as “unheroic and prosaic,” (King 252). The history-as-ritual seems remarkably akin to the everyday activities of the Compson family. Quentin and Jason draw their strength from long-forgotten Compsons and Bascombs, respectively. Neither Caroline Bascomb’s wailings of self-pity nor Quentin’s obsession with self-torture acknowledges that the human condition is changeable, or that occasions considered sad, painful or tragic can change with the seasons. Furthermore, Quentin’s references to shadows serve as a constant reminder that Quentin views himself as merely a shadow of his family’s former glory. In the contemplation of his insignificance – his failure, he notices the visual embodiment of his status as lesser than his predecessors. Quentin is no exception from the intellectuals of Faulkner’s time; he often idealizes the past at the expense of the present. Faulkner’s Contribution to the Southern Renaissance In a narrower perspective, the period intellectuals and historians refer to as the “Southern Renaissance” sheds the greatest light on the Southern condition. Critic Richard H. King depicts the Southern Renaissance as “a flowering of the ‘literary arts – poetry, fiction and drama,’” (King 246) centralized in the late 1920’s and continuing until the mid-1950’s. World War I was the one event in American history with the power to revive the South from its great bout of history-as-ritual. In the wake of the military conflagration, “The South, then, offered the classic situation of a world stung and stirred, by cultural shock, to create an art, in order to objectify and grasp the nature of its own inner drama,” (Warren 244). The penultimate challenge of the South in Faulkner’s time was to jump out of its former dimensions, rid itself of its plantation legends and family romances and experience history-as-action. But to do so would require more than one or two novels, even by a craftsman like Faulkner. His efforts, nonetheless, were monumental. The incorporation of multiple perspectives and the use of symbolism exemplify an opening-up of society in its preliminary stages. The Sound and the Fury itself is told in four voices – three first-person and one third-person. Many of Faulkner’s short stories are narrated with a “town narration,” using the collective “we” as a point of view. In his seminal piece and self-proclaimed tour-de-force, As I Lay Dying, he uses fifteen characters to narrate some fifty-nine chapters. From an analysis of style, the cultural opening-up which promised that more voices would be heard was answered by Faulkner, who literally spoke in more voices. Additionally, heavy use of symbolism and purposeful allegory often pointed toward deep tensions and conflicts within the South at the time. Whereas the Southern Renaissance didn’t attain total reconciliation with the present, Faulkner and his contemporaries “attempt[ed] to come to terms not only with the inherited values of the Southern tradition but also with a certain way of dealing with the past,” (King 248). The most interesting part of The Sound and the Fury is not seeing the Renaissance in action, but seeing the conditions in which it was nurtured. One does not see the fruits of the Renaissance which ripened later, but the labor. One does not see the broken barriers, but the mold from which it was broken, and in an analysis of the Southern condition, all are equally helpful. Peering Through a Window Embedded in the impossible dialogue of an idiot, the image of Caddy perched in a tree is a snapshot of each Compson’s and each Southerner’s fate. Caddy glimpses death itself – in doing so she absorbs her own mortality, and as Faulkner put it, doom. Surrounding the tree, the three brothers are incapacitated by their assorted loves for Caddy and by the physical distance from the window. In this symbol of the frailty of humanity, three brothers reach a stage in life never to be forgotten or overcome. In a way, their inability to surpass this image is their mortality. Alike is the South: in love with its own frailty; enchanted by its own demise. Current Mood: accomplished Current Music: juggernaut - five iron frenzy (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, May 25th, 2005
3:25 pm	been awhile since i've done one of these This was taken from Tom's lj. TELL ME ABOUT YOURSELF - The Survey Name: Austin Michael Uhler Birthday: September 6, 1988 Birthplace: Not sure, in San Diego somewhere Current Location: La Costa Eye Color: Brown Hair Color: Brown Height: 5' 11" Right Handed or Left Handed: Right Your Heritage: German, Italian, Panamanian The Shoes You Wore Today: black on black converse Your Weakness: ambition Your Fears: not living up to my potential Your Perfect Pizza: anchovies Goal You Would Like To Achieve This Year: competitor at the tournament of champions (maybe) Your Most Overused Phrase On an instant messenger: adios Thoughts First Waking Up: why am i in the shower? Your Best Physical Feature: the little pudge of skin that sticks out near your elbow when you scrunch up your arm Your Bedtime: 11 (haha) Your Most Missed Memory: camp Pepsi or Coke: Coke MacDonalds or Burger King: McDonalds Single or Group Dates: Single Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea: whichever is brisk, baby Chocolate or Vanilla: chocolate Cappuccino or Coffee: coffee Do you Smoke: nope Do you Swear: occasionally Do you Sing: all the time Do you Shower Daily: thrice daily Have you Been in Love: (^_^) Do you want to go to College: yes Do you want to get Married: yes Do you belive in yourself: yes Do you get Motion Sickness: no Do you think you are Attractive: yes Are you a Health Freak: yes Do you get along with your Parents: yes Do you like Thunderstorms: yes Do you play an Instrument: i attempt guitar In the past month have you Drank Alcohol: no In the past month have you Smoked: no In the past month have you been on Drugs: no In the past month have you gone on a Date: no In the past month have you gone to a Mall: no In the past month have you eaten a box of Oreos: no In the past month have you eaten Sushi: no In the past month have you been on Stage: no In the past month have you been Dumped: yes, to the day In the past month have you gone Skinny Dipping: no In the past month have you Stolen Anything: only virginity, but that doesn't count Ever been Drunk: i claim to, but i was probably just tipsy Ever been called a Tease: no Ever been Beaten up: no Ever Shoplifted: on accident How do you want to Die: freak eyeglass repair accident What do you want to be when you Grow Up: speechwriter for the president What country would you most like to Visit: france In a Boy/Girl.. Favourite Eye Color: no preference Favourite Hair Color: no preference Short or Long Hair: just not ridiculously short Height: between four and a half and six and a half Weight: not like the girl who turned into a blueberry in willy wonka and the chocolate factory Best Clothing Style: casual Number of Drugs I have taken: only however many are in food and medication Number of CDs I own: 60+ Number of Piercings: 0 Number of Tattoos: 0 Number of things in my Past I Regret: one CREATE YOUR OWN! - or - GET PAID TO TAKE SURVEYS! Current Mood: exhausted Current Music: juggernaut - five iron frenzy (7 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, May 20th, 2005
10:48 pm	you are contemplating an apotheosis "You are not thinking of finitude you are contemplating an apotheosis." As I sit before my computer in the same way I have for my five years of living here, I have come to a realization. We are such a fragile balancing act. I was sitting on a reclining chair in Tim's house after he and at least six other "group" members went to Denny's, listening to Steven ramble away as he does, and watching Billy and Mike and Carrie and Lauren and Erica sit in a dark room in a house of somebody they'd never met. Brooke Hartley is somebody I've never met, but she thinks I'm annoying. I know who she is; I smile when I walk past her if we're sharing the walkway during the track and lacrosse season. I don't like that she thinks I'm annoying. So back there in that dark room Steven is wearing a stolen hat, that by the way production and distribution work, will offer no loss of profit to the makers of the hat. So Steven's act of stealing the hat only made his life better, and didn't hurt the lives of others. That comma didn't have to be there. I saw Megan's car at the beach. She didn't tell me she was going. I drove to the parking lot at moonlight to change from my boardshorts to my jeans so when I went to the formal wear shop I wouldn't be embarrassed. I saw a white BMW on the way in, and I checked to see if it was hers, and it wasn't. I always check, and it never is hers. After I rolled in I saw another, and it wasn't hers. Remember here that I didn't know she was there yet. I change and enjoy the sun yadda yadda I drive away and I see her car. Steven only cares about the idea that people are interested by him. That's his apotheosis. His comment to me "blah blah I'm the only realistic person" only served to establish the concept that I was more abstract and thus less functional or worthful than he was. His mock-innocence and playing up of his being afraid to ask a girl to prom only served to keep his "good guy" image in front of Carrie and Erica and Lauren. Billy, seemingly the center of attention, really relied on Steven's approval before making his opinion. Elections in debate scare me. The idea of being in actuality and on paper less important as a junior than as a sophomore scares me. It gives me the feeling as if I'm a shadow of my former success. From what Lapadula teaches, Jung's idea of a shadow is some subconscious conflict that we don't want to come to terms with. I freak out over my weight all the time. I'm not in good shape, but I'm not in bad shape, either. I'm not gnarly and able to force myself not to eat or to eat wisely, but when I overeat I want to hurt myself. My memory of myself as an end-of-year sophomore remind me that I once had a foundation of body to work with. Driving ruins foundations. I went surfing today. A guy who I thought was an asshole was really nice and personable. Megan said personable in her debate elections speech. Debate elections are haphazardly venomous. Haphazardly. Venomous. Venomous. I take an SAT tomorrow. I'm scared I will score less than 780 on math. I am obsessed with doing better than I have before. I should be FUCKING DELIGHTED with a math score over 700, WHY in FUCKING the FUCK world would I ever be as ARROGANT and STUPID to write in my fucking LIVEJOURNAL that I'm scared to get under a 7 fucking 80 on math. Rest assured, I'm not trying to keep a precarious balance of acquaintences in awe of anything I may or may not have. I'm sick and tired of people assuming I want anyone to feel anything but totally genuine with me. Please. deBoer told me a line from The Fountainhead goes something like "when a ray of light shines on a pile of muck, it is the muck that becomes the excluded and ugly, because the muck doesn't want to see itself for what it is." Now what the fuck am I doing? I'm not a fucking ray of light, why can't I send that message to everyone I know? I'm fucking muck too, get over it. I hate the saying get over it, it makes the person who is getting told it feel as if they are in the wrong for being "with" something that deserves to be gotten over. Steven says that all the time. Grant Tudor called me today, all surprised that I answered because he thought I'd be surfing, but he called after I was done surfing, because I had to be done early so I could pick up my tux. He wanted me to come down to the beach, and I said I couldn't. That comma wasn't needed. He said ohhh yeah don't worry we'll call you later and maybe do something, like around eight or something. I lost my favorite pair of flip-flops today. They were green with Brazilian flags on them. Manya had a pair from Brazil. I got them in Michigan, for eleven dollars. So at 8:25 I'm in the dark at the Grandview parking lot for the second time that night looking for my flip-flops, and Team America is already 45 minutes through and 13 group members are there, (excluding me, Wolfe, Tommy and Carl) and that comma should have been before the parentheses. I met Lea today I didn't introduce myself I was embarrassed. Grant's away message is: in the jacuzzzzzi with mac and spike! (mmmhmmm....triple bingy bingy) I'm so fucking jealous. One year ago today I was at the Bishop's School prom. So fun. I have pictures that I believe capture the soul of a couple of people that I only briefly knew. The afterprom at the Hard Rock cafe was by far one of the best 12:30am - 2am times of my life. Not the best though. I've fallen asleep and spent 1 and 1/2 hours of better time before. Afterprom starts in 1 hour and 9 mintues. I'm so fucking jealous. I'm so fucking muck. You are not thinking of finitude you are contemplating an apotheosis. Current Mood: see entry Current Music: none (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Sunday, May 15th, 2005
10:24 pm	well my sunday was eventful Oh wait... Ya so basically fourteen interesting things happened today. 1) I woke up! 2) I went to chizzyurch 3) I had painful blisters on my feet from walking across miles and miles of asphault and sand to get to Beacons 4) I took 6 sections of an SAT, and did imperviously on them 5) I didn't listen to interpol 6) I got a tri-tip sandwich at the barbecue place at stater brothers, which I devoured 7) I ate a mango 8) I played goldeneye, and demonstrated that my skills have not dulled but sharpened in the four months since I'd last played 9) I didn't tell a lie 10) I had three cups of green tea 11) I sent a virus to 25 people on my buddy list, on purpose, of course 12) I sarcastically claimed to have sent a virus on purpose 13) I completed a long math assignment 14) I [insert vocab word that means to think] mulled over some information about seniors I know and getting into college that I heard on Friday. Okay so here's how the Bishops kids ended up at colleges. 1 Stanford 1 Duke 1 Notre Dame 1 Harvard 2 Princeton 1 Oxford 2 University of Pennsylvania 1 Brown 1 Tufts Holy fucking fuck. Holy shitty fucking shit. Holy list of expletives! Uncle Joe's corncob pipe! And this I compare to my group of friends at LCC: steven: aight im out like a trout, dont lose clout which i dont doubt steven: ROUT! steven signed off at 10:35:11 PM. Yes, I'll be "mulling over" issues delving into the deep complexes of rout and related intellectual pursuits. *sigh* Current Mood: sleepy Current Music: none (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, May 5th, 2005
8:41 pm	track track track, lame lame lame Last meet of the year. Whooey, getting Benjy drunk on that sasspirilluh. I mean. Mr. Ian Resor, pronounced "eean reezor" is a sexy little sophomore chucking the disc a good 123 feet. I've thrown farther in a meet, but that was a long time ago. Mr. Patrick Collinelley...pronounced Patrick Collin-elley is a less sexy, larger sophomore lampooning the disc a good 124 feet. I've thrown farther in a meet, but that was a long time ago. The last meet at Mount Carmel was pretty sweet overall. I sadly fell short of my goal of second place, which would have given me an even 10 points and a letter. And because my wisdom teethies get yanked on the same day as league finals, I cannot letter this year. Oh well. Nothing to cry about. I have this image imprinted in my mind that I think I might remember forever. Chris Wrigleuritz (spelling?) telling a joke to a busful of throwers, who are all absolutely silent. I have my ipod on, so I can't hear a thing about what Chris is saying, only the faces of Chris and Graham and Bronson and Ian and Pat and Caitlin and Phillips and Elise and Scotty and at least five other throwers. I know all these people; we're all tired and a little less than caked with dirt and sweat. But the faces of all these kids were so open and honest and interested and interesting it made me feel pride again for humanity. And any wisdom gained from a track meet is good wisdom. And by the way, I know I misused the word "lampooning" above. I did it on purpose. Jeez. Current Mood: hopeful Current Music: the promise - tracy chapman (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Tuesday, May 3rd, 2005
6:21 pm	Livejournal Collage (11/1/04) I'm having trouble waking up. Maybe it's the lack of coffee, maybe it's the tendency to fall asleep at twelve on account of homework/procrastination/debate work/brushing my teeth for ten minutes. It's not working for me. (11/1/04) steven: a definitive answer is what i ask for please steven: either way is better then this figurative and literal heart disease alkalinerock: i'd hope so, for her and our ease alkalinerock: to live life again, because this isn't it alkalinerock: freestylin' about love, actually, is as close as it gets steven: a old school battle of whits steven: the whole situation is like someone didnt pick up the blitz alkalinerock: but it shouldn't be a battle, we need to cease and desist alkalinerock: i can't bear to see another day of symbolic slit wrists steven: what do you propose we do? What can we commit? alkalinerock: friends to the end, nothing else to it alkalinerock: let it unfold like an early morning at summit, icy cold but then warm and we'd run it alkalinerock: together, why not? alkalinerock: there've been crazier things alkalinerock: or maybe i'm just grasping at butterfly wings... steven: ...too bad there is one queen and we are but two kings (11/2/04) Tuesday is often considered the least important of the weekdays… History was a bitch. Buck gets super mad at us like constantly. Don't ask me, we're good kids. (11/3/04) I realized something good today, and I think it will help me out for the foreseeable future. I should only be losing sleep over girls that are losing sleep over me. So let's see if I can stick to that. (11/3/04) Dewy grass, cricket songs Young melodies (11/4/04) English was awesome. I got my short story back. 99%. "When the Levee Breaks." Lapadula read it out loud, and I realized how different something sounds if you haven't lived through it before, or how different a reader sees a scene than a writer. Alex Wolfe didn't get it at all, he asked me "aren't stories supposed to have a conflict?" Apparently, my story was subtle^12. Talked to the volleyball girls. They're nervous about playing Torrey Pines. (11/8/04) It's weird how much debate is a silent subculture. It's a tight group of people that nobody really hears about. It operates entirely under the radar, mostly because it doesn't rely on clashing with the rest of the world to find meaning. We as debaters are bound together by the same giddy thrill that I assume the cast of a theatrical production or the members of a football team feel when they do well/do poorly/do stuff together. It almost makes me sad that so few people get to experience it. if we can, we will leave a letter and this song for you and we'll write once a day and put it through the sea to you we'll regret all those things we thought of but didn't ever do (11/9/04) Maybe I should fly out to Montana It's quiet, way out past the electric lights Out where no one will know my name Whoa-oh, I've had it now I am walking down to your house Banging on the door Please, please, please, Mr. Hox Won't you tell your daughter I'm all alone And I'm not handling this well (11/10/04) Emily gave him a nasty look, but then smiled. Nick remembered back in middle school when he had a debilitating crush on her. But that was a long time ago, and kids who drive fast and listen to loud music don’t let a “crush” get to them. Even if it was three years in the making. … On the way home, the sky released its stockpile of rain. But Nick’s windshield wipers kept the window transparent. The road was visible. As Nick rolled through the streets of his town alone, the river was overflowing. 16. What characteristic do you despise? Hacking coughs? 17. Favorite flower? JASMINE! (11/11/04) So when I get home and start feeling like a piece of crap, I just end up feeling like a total jerk. Like I'm some selfish little kid who's pissed that his mom only bought him nine of the ten things on his Christmas list. I'm glad I can appreciate the nine things I got. And good music can make the tenth seem unnecessary. Draping the tumbleweeds of Submarine boulders in darkness And redwood kelp. (11/14/04) I got a lot of things straight this weekend. Like, everything straight. Seriously. Everything. My plan for a better world goes like this: everyone, who feels even remotely unhappy about his or her life, lets everything come out into the open. I swear, the world would be a happier place. I got perhaps the best piece of advice I've ever gotten this weekend, and the source will remain unknown (but in actuality, was Brian Fish). "When you can genuinely smile, from the inside, no matter how or why, everything is right, nothing is wrong, and you don't need any more help." (11/16/04) And I couldn't help but think How two shooting stars Could leave such confusing trails (11/17/04) i have this terrible fear that i'm going to miss being depressed when im older. so many grown adults say that they loved high school and wished they were back, and then there are so many adults that wouldnt be a teenager again for anything. i just dont know which one i'll be. but if it is the first, if i do wish i could be back, i dont think it'll be because we had the time of our lives. i think it'll be because there was so much activity and emotion into every tiny aspect of our lives that its something amazing to behold. everyone is so keen on the innocence of children, maybe i'll be keen on the emotion of adolescence. who knows. Have you ever liked someone so much that it physically hurt? (11/18/04) Tuesday I've allocated for homework, and then teaching the kiddies at church. I'm going to bring them cookies. Yay. Cookies. (11/19/04) Who the hell am I? Seriously, if I were any worse, I'd just be a gelatonous blob of dorky uncoolness. No bones, no skin, pure, unfettered loser-atin (the chemical source of being a loser). Like, wow. I might as well have no friends. I don't deserve them. I deserve to be exactly my description. Just a blob, and people could pour me into smaller containers, and box me up, and send me to different corners of the earth, and store me in warehouses where I'd never see the sun. And the world would be a better place. I find the time when I'm the least trouble is when I'm asleep, because I can't say or do anything stupid. (11/21/04) The following people deserve more than my thanks: Stephen Rodrigues, Brian Miller, Alex Vann, Steven Lesan, Megan Macgregor, Caitlin Saxton, Kelly Houston, Julia (sorry for forgetting the last name), Billy Kelly, Michael Steward, Carl Hedegard, Brian Kolb (I didn't forget you buddy), John Hamilton, Tim Obert, Spike Linderman, Nick Kane, Alex Wolfe, Kevin Lawrence, Jeff Newton, David Schnall, Tommy Revell, Dana Green, Dan Ward, Ryan Curtin, Kyle Liban, Dan Moriarty, Brian Fish, Lisa Hendrickson, Colin^2, Jeff Rothrock, Josh Fabian, Justin Sachs, Drew, Derek Dominie, Xander Lenc, Megan Ward, Melissa Thornton, Grant Tudor, my unnamed little novii, Yoav, Preston and Jon Hu from Rancho Bernardo, SDA debate, deBoer, Maggie, Mr. Gomes, Ariel Sincoff-Yedid, my interp-god Chris Espinoza, my little church class, (especially Sibin Stephen, Omar, Marvin, Matt Newman and Lauren Milliken), my fellow teachers Kelsey Foster, Jamie Foster, Carol, Kevin Montag, (and Bob, Dixie, Max, Larry and Richard), Ferdanda Diaz, Adam Kreger, Bronson Gannon, Travis Krolicki, Andrew Welchel, Matt Friend, Elias Garcia, Emily Young, Nolan Pasko, Kelsey Christofferson, Carrie Herbert, Rick Timmins, Chet Wheatley, Morgan Wallace, fellow throwers Little Slade and Chris Wrigglytits, Mateo McDonald, Camila (Alexis) the freshman, Isabel the freshman, David and Aaron Swartz, Angelica Allen (at times), Jeff Higbee, Mike Greenstein, David Katz, Zack Pollack, Nick Lyles, Jessie Strohman, Marc Soto, Michael Onak, and finally PJ and Brian from the best fucking hall at debate camp ever!! (11/15/04) Wednesday wasn't bad, because it was really fun at times, but just weird. I woke up, made pancakes, ran, got sick, almost threw up, and then went to Megan's house to make pies. The second I got there, Megan's mom offered Baja Fresh. And I was like "no thanks, really, don't worry about it." Man, that woman can guilt you into getting Baja Fresh. Then we sat outside Megan's house, in the cold, again. Is that not the weirdest place to sit? Not like there's a warm house twenty feet away, we get to sit on her driveway. Then I drove to Alex's house, and collapsed on his couch, and felt emasculated again, not from onions this time, but from having no bombshells. When you realize that you have no bombshells, you really can't push on anymore. Oh well, I'm sure I can make some more bombs, and put them into shells, and I'll be fine. The drive home was terrible. Terrible. I listened to the songs "still fighting it" and "the luckiest" by Ben Folds, and I practically lost it. And I didn't even make sense, I was just caught up in the drama and the lonliness and the "wearing my heart on my sleeve" for the last three months. Steven was right, end it with a pencil to the eye. At least he got to make out with Lauren on his way to that realization. (11/27/04) It is a pity that we only tend to be dramatic in every situation. I look at my take on everything these past two years, and I realize how meaningless it was to utterly and literally flip out about every little thing. Our life is a random lottery of meaningless tragedy, and not at the same time. So many bursts of random happiness are neglected when we look back at our short pathetic lives, and it's not fair. Everything we go through in the past makes up how we look at our present, but we are so selective with which past events to let into our lens, that we shape our future in the worst of ways. I hate saying that life is unfair, because really, it is VERY fair. It gives us what we deserve, and we know how to manage it so that we are given only really fortunate things, we can find that state of joy we search for forever. (11/28/04) I can't imagine all the people that you know And the places that you go When the lights are turned down low And I don't understand All the things you've seen But I'm slipping in between You and your big... dreams It's always you and my big dreams And you tell me That it's over But I can't stand here in a patch of four leaf clover And your restless And I'm naked You've got to get out You can't stand to see me shaking no, would you let me go and you don't want to be here in the future So you say the present's just a pleasant Interruption to the past And you don't want to look much closer 'Cause you're afraid to find out all the hope That you had sent into the sky by now had... crashed and it did because of me And then you bring me home Afraid to find out that you're alone, no And I'm sleeping in your living room But we don't have much room To live And I had dreams that i would learn to play guitar Maybe cross the country Become a rockstar And there was hope in me That I could take you there But dammit you're so young But I don't think I care and if I hurt you then i'm sorry It's just this guilt has got the best of me And then you bring me home 'Cause we both know what its like to be alone, no And I'm dreaming in your living room But we don't have much room To live Konstantine came walking down the stairs Doesn't she look good Standing in her underwear? And i've been thinking, and i've thinking, no But she's been drinking And it doesn't get me anywhere My Konstantine came walking down the stairs And all that I could do Was touch her long blond hair And i was thinking, what i was thining ya know We've been drinking and it doesn't get me anywhere This is because I can spell konfusion with a K It's hard to like it It's to dying in anothers arms And why i had to try it It's to jimmy eat world And those nights in my car But this time i'm alone, and i don't see those stars I'm not your star? Isn't that what you said What you thought this song meant You thought this song meant And if this is what it takes Just to lie in my mistakes And live with what I did to you And all the things i put you through I always catch the clock it's 11:11 And now you want to talk It's not hard to dream You'll always be my Konstantine They'll never hurt you like I do No, They'll never hurt you like I do No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No This is to a girl who got into my head With all these pretty things she did Hey Baby, You know that you keep me up in bed It's to a girl who got into my head With all the fucked up things I did Hey maybe baby, you could keep me up in bed My Konstantine Spin around me like a dream We played out on this movie screen And I said, Did you know I miss you Did you know I miss you Did you know I miss you Did you know I miss you Did you know I miss you Did you know I miss you Did you know I miss you God, I miss you And then you bring me home And we'll go to sleep but this time not alone, no no, And you'll kiss me in your living room, oh And you see, no, that I've been missing in my living room Cause this is what I miss, what I miss We don't have much room I said, does anyboy need that room? Because we all need a little more room To live My Konstantine (11/29/04) This is weird. Life is weird, and fair, and unpredictable, no matter how much you try to predict it. It's like when you wake up on a schoolday, and grumble and moan, and brush your teeth, and dress, and eat and walk out to your car to realize that you've forgotten that it's a weekend, and you just bought yourself about four hours of time that you didn't have otherwise, and you drive around and enjoy being awake and alive and enjoy the green plants that grow and die so quickly but always come back at the same time the next year, and during these extra hours you visit a friend at work or finish a book that you've set down or try to make pancakes and fail only to enjoy the batter more than the finished product. That, my friends, is life. It's not a series of down notes, as Dante from Clerks would have you think. It's a series of notes that don't have a direction and don't want one. And that's comforting. (12/2/04) Not excited for missing Christmas (I'm sorry Fish, Winter) Classic this weekend, missing some snotty debate coach telling everyday parents to vote on their favorite "paradigm," missing Lisa coloring my shoes while we wait for extempers to prep, missing yelling at fat kids and asking them if they think I'm joking, missing hearing fat kids behind my back calling me the "extemp nazi," missing Eric Payton make kids lose their sense of smell, missing a late-night Saturday "attack-deBoer with hugs and shower her with gifts" bonanza, missing being with my favorite people... (12/5/04) Caitlin – updating your lj is for lovers! I don't know what to do about my life anymore. It almost feels like I'm wasting it by trying to tackle too much stuff at one time, you know? Like, I wake up and worry about getting to school and looking "good" (yeah right), and get to school and worry about what I say to everybody, and my teachers, and my friends and the people who are definitely not my friends, and then I worry about my grades (why?!) and I worry about what I do EVERY DAY in class because I know these are the teachers writing my college reccomendations, and I worry in debate because I DON'T FUCKING WANT TO DO IMPROMTU AT FUCKING CYPRESS DAMMIT!! So it's like, at any point of time during any day, I'm worrying about something in the near and far future. Great. Wonderful. Oh, I almost forgot. I am OCDing off my gas meter in my car now. I swear I sit in bed at night and worry how much gas I have left, and I worry when I'm driving about if I'm wasting too much gas whenever I accelerate too fast, and I catch myself watching the little pointer on the gas meter more than the road. So if I'm halfway through summer with no obligations in weeks, plenty of money and fun plans in the future, I'll still be worried sick over the fucking gas meter. I guess the major point I've been mulling over lately is the fact that I have no one who's letters I can live in, and nobody's currently living in my letters either. I can sing dashboard songs at the retreat all I want, but just asking/singing to Nicole Ortega "do you, do you like dreaming of things so impossible?" isn't my idea of how I should be living my junior year. (12/6/04) 13) Having to feel guilty about not tutoring at the math lab when I have an entire speech to memorize by Wednesday 14) Having Billy treat me like I'm four constantly 15) Having Steven, and then Mike, throw rocks at my car and then pretend like nothing happened, and waiting for Steven to come clean about it five minutes later 16) Having Steven reiterate at least ten times how "terrible" my behaivor was in math, making sure Megan got the point (12/15/04) We don't care, we drift through it, with "goals, aspirations" and the like, but we never just sit up and open our eyes and see all the living that we can be doing. So go to sleep tonight, and wake up. If you awake in your dreams, have fun with your journey. If you awake in reality, have fun with your life, but treat it as if it were something you've never really tried. And if you're anything like me, I guarentee, you haven't. (12/16/04) I told Alex today that I freaking love junior year. I have three more weeks in the first semester and I comfortably have solid A's in all my classes. I still have great debate stuff to look forward to (Fullerton, Berkeley, State), and the track season should start in a few months. Plus, I totally take driving for granted. How amazingly SICK is it that we can go wherever we want when we want?! Shit! What'd I do as a sophomore? Be lame? Obviously! And Goldeneye is the best game ever made, ever, ever! (12/19/04) Seven teams and about sixty kids showed up, it was freaking incredible. We destroyed the reigning champion, the mexican whateverthefucks in two games. (12/25/04) - Upon examination, 7/18 of my extended family that resides locally is at least partially black. Now you know where it comes from - I learned the true meaning of Christmas - Megan, get your belated Christmas cd that I spent twenty grueling mintues burning - I learned the true meaning of Hannukah - Scratch that last one (12/29/04) Life was more interesting when I was a part of viscious love triangles, squares, pentagons and hexagons. Yeah, hexagons. What. (12/30/04) alkalinerock: do you care if i put this entire convo on my livejournal? alkalinerock: didn't think so alex vann: go for it, but where talking about nothing alkalinerock: well yeah no shit alkalinerock: but it'll be like seinfeld For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin--real life. (1/2/05) - Don't lie for personal gain - Don't lie for fun - Don't lie to defend other people unless absolutely necessary - Run and lift for the track season - Respect people - Know when to be serious/joking - Enjoy junior year (1/3/05) + dodgeball + new ringtone + russian penpal + dvd's + gift cards + money + ravioli + some surfing + driving to mammoth + indian relatives + delicous homemade food + snowboarding + driving home from mammoth + reading huckleberry finn + reading assorted other books + new year's + four consecutive nights of poker + hat shopping and yankees hat + pepperoni bread + trampoline action + freezing pool dip with chris + running and lifting + 1/2 of fight club + american wedding + 1/2 of american pie + killing kane and jeff in sick team killing spree in the basement with power weapons (goldeneye) + ONAK!! - not great sleeping patterns - not great surf - bio homework - group issues - losing poker to a girl (1/4/05) Well, okay. I'm scared to check my own voicemail. Seriously. I figure there might be bad news, so I don't check it. Reminds me of a quotation in clerks by Dante: "I would rather shit all over myself than bother somebody else to lift the toilet lid." (1/10/05) "She done it, too. And she done it beautiful. She done it so beautiful it was good to hear; and I wished I could tell her a thousand lies, so she could do it again." Oh, and I guess this is kinda important. Haha. Megan asked me to formal today, and we're going to hang out with Billy and Kelly, Mike and Caitlin, Julia and her date from who-knows-where. (1/17/05) Okay, I realize that the "drama" in our group is really lame by the standards of 99.6% percent of the world, but I'd like to see a real movie made about our group. (1/19/05) If I knew all the words I would write myself out of here If I was all the colors I would paint you pretty in gold In a picture so I'm told little sister So now I'm sold little sister Why don't you tell me about the sunsets in sweden And the laws of eden And how you were the rock of gibraltar And how they called you foxy Well that's another whole box of pandoras That's another whole box of them ties Slide your foot off the gas Before we crash right back into the median It separates our house from the middle of the street It separates our house from the middle of the street (1/23/05) It seems like it's been so long Since we kissed through the darkness Until it was dawn Up with it came our pain and fear That we'd already lost each other We both knew that the end was near (1/25/05) I'd say it was a lot like the feeling the Egyptians must have had when they finished building the pyramids. They'd spent what seemed to be their entire lives constructing something that would last with time, and be beautiful both in reality and in memory. They had their troubles, I'm sure they blew it several times. People died constructing the pyramids, thousands of mini-projects and side-projects and design elements, thousands of ways to mess up, and just become a collossal spectacle. But as they placed the last block on top, imagine the pride they felt, the accomplishment, and the youthful satisfaction of a job not only well done, but a job that will be never forgotten. And yes, it was beautiful. (2/9/05) Dear Austin, Thank you very much for your letter. I received it on the 13th and I was in shock (in pleasant shock, certainly) because I didn't expect you to write to me so quickly. Yes, I just came home from the cinema, my friends and me have seen "Meet the Fuckers". (2/14/05) She baked me cookies. Shortbread cookies, and she baked them herself. Leslie: Filibuster. John: John George Peppers. Missy: Popcorn. Owen: Submarine. Carol: Supercagifragilisticexpealidocious. [sic] Ted: Mine is "more." Kathy: And mine is "harder." [Ted and Kathy laugh] Ted: We're just kidding. We do not have safe words. (3/14/05) But above the grey land and the spasms of bleak dust which drift endlessly over it, you perceive, after a moment, the eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg. The eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg are blue and gigantic - their retinas are one yard high. They look out of no face but, instead, from a pair of enormous yellow spectacles which pass over a nonexistent nose. (4/9/05) Enjoy Your Day So where'd you go? How was your vacation home? Well obviously you were busy, too busy for me. So this is how you leave me? I'm broken hearted on the floor. My tears seep through the crack under my door. (4/17/05) So I'm gone for the last week of school, in Philadelphia. Mmmm. I can taste the Liberty Bell already. (4/25/05) Did I remember to stay up late Drinking for the fun Drinking for the taste Did I run outside to kiss the rain Under electrical skies Current Mood: nostalgic Current Music: none (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, April 25th, 2005
6:21 pm	this reminds me why my name is "alkalinerock" I'm dying tomorrow This house, this street, Chicago I'm dying tomorrow Did I, did I do it right Did I remember to sleep in Take lots of pills Commit irreversible sins Did I, did I at least try To kiss the prettiest girl at the right time Did I remember to keep your beer as full as mine Did I, did I remember to say cheers Did I, did I at least try to make sure everybody had a good time Had the best time I'm dying tomorrow This house, this street, Chicago I'm dying tomorrow Did I, did I do it right Did I remember to stay up late Drinking for the fun Drinking for the taste Did I run outside to kiss the rain Under electrical skies Did I remember to keep your beer as full as mine Did I, did I remember to say cheers Did I, did I at least try to make sure everybody had a good time Had the best time I'm dying tomorrow In this house and this street, Chicago I'm dying tomorrow Did I, did I do it right Current Mood: nostalgic Current Music: i'm dying tomorrow - alkaline trio (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, April 17th, 2005
3:13 pm	muhaha So anyway yeah...there was a little tournament this weekend, something along the lines of national qualifying tournament. And I owe Grant Tudor my life. So anyway, I've spent the week leading up to the tournament writing, revising and learning immigration policy for controversy debate. I didn't once practice my speech the entire week, and I hadn't since state quals, a number of weeks before. I also had completely changed my speech and cut it down to 7 minutes (from 10) for a rotary club speech contest. So before stepping into the first round, I had zero preparation, and almost no idea what was going to come out of my mouth (besides words) in the alotted 10 minute period. Turns out, controversy isn't our thing. Long story short, we got screwed by cheaters and legitimately beaten by immigrants arguing against immigration. Go figure. So out of 22 competitors from two leagues and a total of two events (original oratory and original advocacy, clumped into one), Grant and I were the sole males in the bunch. Let's look at the statistics. 2/22 = 9.1% In the final round, Grant and I were (obviously) the sole males in the bunch. 2/7 = 28.6% And because he got first and I got third, the top three from our district is 2/3 or 66.7% male. Talk about defending our gender's oft-attacked qualities. And because Grant and Megan Ward qualled in controversy, the top two taken to nationals wasn't Grant and #2, but #2 and me. Yessssss. So deBoer sat there for a solid 15 minutes, surrounded by three kids she KNEW qualled to nationals, and told us nothing. Haha. So I'm gone for the last week of school, in Philadelphia. Mmmm. I can taste the Liberty Bell already. Current Mood: cheerful Current Music: taxman - the beatles (off revolver, of course) (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, April 13th, 2005
8:35 pm	*sigh* Broken, this fragile thing now And I can't, I can't pick up the pieces And I've thrown my words all around But I can't, I can't give you a reason I feel so broken up (so broken up) And I give up (I give up) I just want to tell you, so you know Here I go, scream my lungs out and try to get to you You are my only one I let go, but there's just no one that gets me like you do You are my only, my only one Made my mistakes, let you down And I can't, I can't hold on for too long Ran my whole life in the ground And I can't, I can't get up when you're gone And something's breaking up (breaking up) I feel like giving up (like giving up) I won't walk out until you know Here I go, scream my lungs out and try to get to you You are my only one I let go, but there's just no one who gets me like you do You are my only my only one Here I go, so dishonestly Leave a note, for you my only one And I know you can see right through me So let me go and you will find someone Here I go, scream my lungs out and try to get to you You are my only one I let go, but there's just no one, no one like you You are my only, my only one My only one My only one My only one You are my only, my only one Current Mood: guilty Current Music: only one - yellowcard (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, April 10th, 2005
4:12 pm	wisdom in unexpected places Tuesday, March 29, 2005 "it is a little sad to think that whenever something cool happens in life people decide to well, post it on xanga. i am guilty of this as well so don’t call me a hypocrite, i just don’t like it. the fact of the matter is, people spend way too much time thinking that other people care about them. the truth of the matter is this, people don’t care. no matter how hard you try, how loud you yell, how many "weblogs" you write, people aren’t going to give a rat’s ass. unless of course you’re me. people have no right to make others care, that is the main point, and if you try to make me care you waste your breath. you cannot force people to care. this notion that people care makes others spend countless hours looking at the xanga waiting for people to make a comment. and if no one comments, well guess what? you get mad. when you get mad and you want more comments you have to change something. doesn’t matter what it is, something has to change to please the masses. now change isn’t always good, (keep with me this is the intelligent part) when you change, your autonomy (freedom of choice) is fit to society not you. therefore you lose your autonomy making you conform. (i am not anti conformist, i am just pointing this out to "the masses") when you lose your individual autonomy, society (made up of individuals doing the same thing) regress or stagnate (mean the same thing) and society suffers. but the real truth is, everyone will read the bullshit you feed them. but will they believe it? no. will they understand it? no. will they care about it? no, they are just keeping themselves "busy". ifyou get anything out of this it should be that xanga stagnates society because people don’t give a shit about others orthat because people don’t care, others have to change to fit their needs." -josh fabian Current Mood: homework Current Music: none (6 Comments |Comment on this)
11:51 am	muaha Spring break is almost over. *cry* On a positive note, state is coming up! Whee! Hmmm, upon unblocking about six people from my buddy list, I wonder if my future will drastically change. Ehhh, probably not. Back to learning about circulation in animals. Current Mood: amused Current Music: narayan - prodigy (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, April 9th, 2005
10:13 am	bonjour And this is why alkaline trio is better than your favorite band. --------------- Goddamnit 1. Cringe 2. Cop 3. San Francisco 4. Nose Over Tail 5. As You Were 6. Enjoy Your Day 7. Clavicle 8. My Little Needle 9. Southern Rock 10. Message From Kathlene 11. Trouble Breathing 12. Sorry About That Cringe Wide eyed. Knee deep in surprise. Just below your thighs the temperature drops 5 degrees. Your stand-by flight has just arrived. Tongue-tied, bleeding from your eyes. Even Christ himself would cringe at the sight of your scars. While you're counting sheep, I'll count my lucky stars. You were the last good thing I ever saw. I lost it all. I lost it all. Burned out on 2 hours of shut-eye. Eyes glazed at the thought of the next 8 hours. Headwind, cold rain to wake me. You were the last good thing I ever saw. Cop Wonder what it was that made you this way. Maybe as a baby you dropped your rattle, and it still rattles you to this day. You better practice your evil looks in the mirror, they don't work on me. Slowly crawling up from the down low. The other cops still call you "fatso". Short fuse and a top to blow. Unhappy wife. Shitty life. Hit the bottle. Your whole world dropped from under you. Left you with sorry excuses. Left you with meaningless things to prove, like why you became a cop. Why did you become a cop? Wonder what it was that made you this way. Maybe as a kid your toys were taken away. And it still toys with you to this day. You better practice your evil looks in the mirror, they don't work on me. Slowly crawling up from the down low. The other cops still call you "fatso". Short fuse and a top to blow. Unhappy wife. Shitty life. Hit the bottle. Your whole world dropped from under you. Left you with sorry excuses. Left you with meaningless things to prove, like why you became a cop. Why did you become a cop? Shut the fuck up. After my court date, I'll forget about you. I'll tell my cellmate. I'll forget about you. After the jail break, I'll forget about you. After I'm through singing this song, I'll forget about you (you). I'll forget about you. San Francisco Choking on the thought of leaving. Drinking to keep from sobbing. 4 p.m., 4 dollar pints. SFO, the time and price. With all my happiness aborted, the PA painfully starts boarding. I sink deep, 30 thousand feet into my window seat electric chair. And I was drinking you goodbye. A heart floats in the bay. From sour home Chicago. I hear it beating far away. And there's no telling what I'll do if I don't return to you. Hopeful thoughts of soon returning, can't put out my stomach burning. Plastic wings and plastic smiles. Unsalted peanuts stretch my miles. Choking on the thought of leaving. Drinking to keep from heaving. 5 p.m., 5 dollar pints. Hellbound Airlines, time and price. And I was drinking you goodbye. A heart floats in the bay. From sour home Chicago. I hear it beating far away. And there's no telling what i'll do if I don't return to you. I was drinking you goodbye. A heart floats in the bay. From sour home Chicago. I hear it beating far away. And there's no telling what I'll do if I don't return to you. Nose Over Tail Crack my head open on your kitchen floor to prove to you that I have brains. Meanwhile tin men are led by little girls down golden roads that lead to nowhere. Fine time to fake a seizure. To feel your mouth on mine. You're saving me. Whatever happened to that silly dream you had? I want to make it real. I'd love to rub your back. Like a plane crash that never hits the ground, I fall in love with you. I'm nose over tail for you. Your voice like the sound of sirens to a house on fire. You're saving me. As You Were Stale as a 2 day half full beer. Cigarette boats float around in here. A field in my gut lacking sunshine. Put down like a teenagers first drink. I cough up compliments. I think you're better off walking away while you still can. She was passing through to climb a hill. As you slipped and slid on my gut spill. My better half was praying for you to fall. Rotten like a 3 week half full glass of breast milk. Drunken off my ass. I would give anything to erase the past nine years of my life. Put down like a prostitute in court (Whoa). All liberty soon to abort like my sanity, like thoughts of you. She was passing through to climb a hill. As you slipped and slid on my gut spill. My better half was praying for you to fall. Praying for you to fall. So pitiful. Praying for you to fall. I'm fuckin' pitiful. Praying for you to fall. So pitiful. Praying for you to fall. So fuckin' pitiful. Enjoy Your Day So where'd you go? How was your vacation home? Well obviously you were busy, too busy for me. So this is how you leave me? I'm broken hearted on the floor. My tears seep through the crack under my door. Where I am locked in, shut down. I'm so tired of picking myself up off the ground. So happy Valentine's Day. I hope the sun's out in New York. I hope he bought you roses. I hope he bought you roses. So happy Valentine's Day. I hope the sun's out in New York. I hope he bought you roses. I hope he bought you roses. Clavicle I've been on top of the world since about six months ago, marking the first time I laid eyes on you. I lost all train of thought as I entered the room. I saw what looked like really good food, then I saw you and so did you. I wanna wake up naked next to you, kissing the curve in your clavicle. Kissing your clavicle. I've been on top of the world since about one week ago, marking a time when I was drunk enough to talk to you. I lost all train of thought as your eyes met mine. Told you I thought you were gorgeous. You gave me your phone number, I gave you mine. Before you left I said that you can bet I'll be bothering you soon. You said, "No bother, please do." I've called you twice. It's been a hellish fight to not think about you all the time. Sitting around waiting for your call. I wanna wake up naked next to you, kissing the curve in your clavicle. Kissing your clavicle. I wanna wake up naked next to you, kissing the curve of your clavicle. My Little Needle I'll come down to get you high. Or maybe sing you a lullaby. Sing you to sleep, a sleep you'll never wake from. Sing you to coma so to speak. And when I fall down, I'll fall apart. Trade in my bike for a shopping cart. And beg change from a world that needs some, like I need someone. So where are you my little needle? The stack's been burned away, but I'm so inebriated that I... I cannot see three feet in front of me. Between the moon and you, lunacy is setting in. Lately I've been feeling dead inside, like my guts have dried up and died. But every night I water 'em back to life, yeah every night I water 'em back to life. And when I fall down, I'll fall apart. Trade in my bike for a shopping cart. And beg change from a world that needs some. I'm tired of sleeping alone. So where are you my little needle? The stack's been burned away, but I'm so inebriated that I cannot see three feet in front of me. Between the moon and you, lunacy is setting in. Southern Rock I can't believe my hearts still pounding. I can't believe how close I came. And meanwhile heavens falling. The fallen angels flown away. And that'll be me someday. With stolen wings and evil ways. Straight south with the keys to the pearly gates. Hard to believe my heart stopped pounding. Hard to believe I played this game. My worst nightmares became real. I got so scared that I forgot my name. And that'll be me someday. With stolen wings and evil ways. Straight south with the keys to the pearly gates. Message From Kathlene I guess I'll always stop and see you, and we'll run into each other's lives. Yeah, I guess. Although it tears me up inside. Everytime it burns my eyes with tears. But I know you're worth the pain. I've so much more to gain by waiting for you. You're going away, but you're not going far. So if he decides to leave you alone and crying. You know I'm still here, the faithful one. Waiting for a message from Kathlene. Then I'll come... faster... than I ever thought that I could run... cause I... I need you more than I ever thought that I could need someone, yeah... someone... one else. That I could need someone else... someone else. I know I will always stop and see you and we'll run into each other's fucked up lives. Yeah, I guess. Although it tears me up inside. Everytime it burns my eyes with tears. But your waking up is the start of my lost cause. And then you decide to leave me alone and crying. But you know I'm still here, the faithful one. Waiting for a message from Kathlene then I'll come... faster... than I ever thought that I could run... cause I... I need you more than I ever thought that I could need someone, yeah... someone... one else. That I could need someone else... someone else. Trouble Breathing 2, 3, 4. You told me that you want to die. I said I've been there myself more than a few times. And I go back every once in a while. You called me lucky, you... you called me lucky. You said tonight is a wonderful night to die. I asked you how you could tell. You told me to look at the sky. Look at all those stars, look at how goddamn ugly the stars are. It's one or another. Between a rope and a bottle. I can tell you're having trouble breathing. Cause you'll never be o.k. You'll never be o.k. You'll never be o.k. (You'll always be in pain). You'll always feel this way. Cause things they never work out right. It never works out right. It never works out right (The wrong way, the lonely way). You'll always be in pain. You told me that the daylight burned you and that the sunrise was enough to kill you. I said maybe you're a vampire. You said it's quite possible, I feel truly dead inside. It's one or another. Between a rope and a bottle. I can tell you're having trouble breathing. Cause you'll never be o.k. You'll never be o.k. You'll never be o.k. (You'll always be in pain). You'll always feel this way. Cause things they never work out right. It never works out right. It never works out right (The wrong way, the lonely way). You'll always be in pain. Don't forget to let your life rot you inside out. Don't forget to let your life rot you inside out. Don't forget to let your life rot you inside out. Sorry About That It hasn't been that long since we drank to the sunset, until it was gone. And down with it went our pain and fear, as we slowly broke contact more and more, with every beer. And we passed out in each other's arms, both admitting we'd never felt better. Never felt so warm. But awoke in each other's eyes, without wearing a stitch of clothing. We were both deeply in disguise. And maybe I just set aside the fact that you were broken hearted. In my own special selfish way. And if I hadn't set aside the fact that you were broken hearted. Hell knows where your heart would be today. Maybe with me. It seems like it's been so long since we kissed through the darkness, until it was dawn. Up with it came our pain and fear that we'd already lost each other. Both knew that the end was near. Maybe I just set aside the fact that you were broken hearted. In my own special selfish way. And if I hadn't set aside the fact that you were broken hearted. Hell knows where your heart would be today. Maybe with me. Maybe with me. Maybe with me. Maybe with me. Maybe with me. Maybe with me. Maybe with me. Current Mood: awake Current Music: sorry about that - alkaline trio (Comment on this)
Wednesday, March 23rd, 2005
6:44 pm	must give emo-credit where emo-credit's due I present: Lil' Colin's Xanga ---------------------------------------- Wednesday, March 23, 2005 dentist way too much happy gas sooo sick 5:18 PM - 2 eprops - 1 comment - email it Monday, March 21, 2005 burrito: rice, no beans, double steak, hot salsa, cheese (mmmm) ..two chipotles in one day.. es muy bueno, muy bueno.. im going to state, i qualed and so did like 10 other people on the team which means that is going to be a very sick tournament, yay half day tomorrow, then hanging out with friends, yay thunder, like a voice in the wind, strong enough to shudder the smallest whisper.. because, you see, the present's just a pleseant interruption to the past.. 7:49 PM - 4 eprops - 2 comments - email it Monday, March 14, 2005 i dont hav to awake from slumber till 10 tomorrow, mwahahaha why can u read me like no one else, i hide behind these words, but im coming out.. always u make my stomach turn, i hope i can bare the inside of my mind, in between my sheets, in between the rights and wrongs.. |m|y| |a|n|t|i|d|r|u|g| Currently Playing: My Heart Will Always Be B-Side to My Tongue 6:29 PM - 4 eprops - 2 comments - email it Sunday, March 13, 2005 its sunday i made it to the finals of congress at state quals yesterday ..man im awesome next weekend is ie quals, and i might go to watch lauryn and gills rounds, ..fingers r crossed hoping they qual i used to think this life would be good, and i used to do things that i thot that i should, but there was never really place for someone like me to be totally happy.. ..really sad about my girlfriend moving.. but life goes on.. her eyes were open, i know i am not the one.. why do i do these things to myself? im sure i could have been anybody else.. lets save this for another night, but she said no i love something corporate.. sooo good ahh why does life hav to be so confusing, im just a small little emo kid in this crazy world and that is one s a d realization Currently Playing: Leaving Through The Window 12:32 PM - 4 eprops - 4 comments - email it Tuesday, March 08, 2005 hey hey joe where ya goin? umm.. recruited for debate today at diegneo, it was way fun, yelled at little brats too.. where i used to sit all alone in the dark and dream about things that i can not say.. u always said destiny blew me away, but nothings gonna blow me away.. you said to me son that one day you will be a man, and men can do terrible things, ..yes they can.. some things never do change.. where we used to get high watching teens fight, i loved my friend adam but he always got caught, man that kid made fucking up look cool.. so yea im gonna go and do homework or something.. cool? sc is the shit the shit umm s a v e s t h e d a y 5:35 PM - 6 eprops - 4 comments - email it Current Mood: exanimate Current Music: konstantine - something corporate (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, March 22nd, 2005
10:20 pm	yaya Gatsby displeased me with a lackluster ending. I wanted the beauty of chapters 1-4. I got the drabness of chapters 5-9. Though I still love what Fitzgerald did with the themes of our relationship with nature, the use of car motifs to express emotion, the relationship between an owner and his things, the parallel structure of imagery and setting of chapters 1-8 2-7 3-4. The "relationship" between Nick and Jordan, and the unmatchable descriptive one- and two-liners, like the opening and closing sentences of the novel, and the dog biscuit, decomposing apathetically in a saucer of milk all afternoon. Its few flaws do remove any chance of it overtaking a separate peace, anna karenina or east of eden. Fitzgerald can't remove the foggy haze I need to plug through to grasp his statement on life in its entirety. Maybe my inability to understand what he's saying mirrors our inability to understand what we want as Americans/people? Or maybe I should try to get to sleep, unlike most days. ---- now for some real literature ---- He had never been jealous of me for a second. Now I knew that there never was and never could have been any rivalry between us. I was not of the same quality as he. I couldn’t stand this. . . . Holding firmly to the trunk, I took a step toward him, and then my knees bent and I jounced the limb. Finny, his balance gone, swung his head around to look at me for an instant with extreme interest, and then he tumbled sideways, broke through the little branches below and hit the bank with a sickening, unnatural thud. It was the first clumsy physical action I had ever seen him make. With unthinking sureness I moved out on the limb and jumped into the river, every trace of my fear of this forgotten. - A Separate Peace Current Mood: content Current Music: san diego's burning - agent 51 (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, March 16th, 2005
10:36 pm	back to the old lj again Um yeah. I have the best friends. If you're ever wondering about their caliber, so to say, you can just check the replies that my most recent posts, and likely this one, have gotten and will get. Late start days were delectable. Gatsby's plugging away at becoming my favorite book. It's already up there. Current reports have it at the five spot, beating out notable favorites such as Grapes of Wrath and Lord of the Flies and Of Mice and Men. If it keeps it momentous momentum, I could see it going all the way to tying at the two spot. 1) A Separate Peace 2) Anna Karenina 3) East of Eden 4) To Kill a Mockingbird 5) The Great Gatsby 6) The Grapes of Wrath 7) Lord of the Flies 8) Of Mice and Men 9) Catcher in the Rye 10) Crime and Punishment ... 76) The Bean Trees ... 1,294) The Stranger 1,295) All Shakespeare ... 123,494,021,349) The Scarlet Letter I sent my letter to my penpal today. Mmmm. And yes Adam, I asked her if she has any friends also desiring an American penpal. Current Mood: tired Current Music: caring is creepy - the shins (7 Comments |Comment on this)