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The Idiot's Guide to Songwriting, 101

We had to write a song for Creative Writing (aka pretentious Language Arts) and it had to be 'personal.' Well, I think this fits the bill... it's just lyrics right now, but... any opinions, anyone?

Roll the die

Another face revealed
It’s different, hidden
With scars barely healed
Covered with band-aids
Printed with a heart
Soon to be ripped off
As I begin to start
Changing, evolving
Becoming more me
The self that’s grown
To be free

Fly away, fly away
Small little bird
Speak up, don’t give up
Your story must be told
Never be afraid
To be who you are
Live a good life
As you already are

Not another product
Bought off a shelf
I am who I am
And that’s myself
I’ve learned to accept that
And so should you
Judge me, hate me
But I’ll always be true
No more hiding
Just plain reality
Not always pretty
But that’s just me


A sailor, a dreamer
An artist, a writer
A sister, a friend
A lover, a fighter
My many faces
With more to be found
Exploring and learning
With every pound
Of my feet on the pavement
My heart in my hand
Meeting the world
Just as I am



So today my dad bought new motorcycle gloves. They're black leather, with armor on the knuckles and fingers.
They kinda remind me of Sauron, from LOTR... so I've been running around the house wearing them, striking dramatic poses and alternately yelling and saying in a creepy voice,

"One ring to rule them all, one ring to find them, one ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them!"

For some reason, I feel like I should post this on MLIA... XD

Grizabella, Part Deux

They all used to be
Their names in big neon lights,
framed against the night sky.
They would coolly sip champagne,
in ballgowns of silk and satin,
bedecked with millions of jewels,
to the tune of a grand piano.
But that was then.
they are simply
Used up, wadded up,
and thrown away.
Consumed, then forgotten.
They cry alone now,
their crystalline slippers
crumbled into dust,
and  their silken hair
matted, filthy, unclean.
Their fine jewels and silver
all tarnished.
Their worlds
slowly crumbling
along with their
bones, lives, and looks.
They lie in the street like broken dolls,
trashed by an ungrateful child.
by those who once
worshiped them.
Loved them.
Their legs are broken,
their skin bruised,
mottled purple and green,
like rotten fruit,
and they struggle to smile
through mouths rimmed with
dry, cracked lips
and filled with
blacked and broken teeth.
They still shimmer subtly,
these nocturnal
queens of the street,
but from beneath a layer
of grit and grime
and wear and tear.
But their glimmer,
their shine,
their sparkling spirits,
and their glamor,
fade slowly
with each passing day.
Those filthy princesses.



Grenades strapped
to her sweet milky thighs,
peeking out
from beneath
an unbuttoned uniform dress.
A button unfastened,
the artillery cage unlocked...
I hear she's armed
with a pair of 38s.
There she stands,
one hip cocked,
like the butt
of a rifle.
Those limpid eyes,
rimmed with thick black
begging you
to help.
To join the fight.
To kill for her.
A sensual wreck;
the shadow of war
crossing beneath her,
as she towers above
on black leather heels.
Her red lips,
plump and shiny,
spew propaganda,
wrapped in sweet lies.
She'll take them all -
young, old
black, white
male, female
friend and foe.
All taken for a ride
on the sweet seductive monster
with explosions in her eyes.


Crew =/= Harem

Dear A,

I would like to make one thing very clear to you. Just one tiny little thing. I am a member of the crew, not your 'fuck-toy,' and I never will be.

Look. I've heard from B what you think of me. It makes me very very very uncomfortable. First of all, I think of you as a big brother, and you allowed me to think that you thought of me as a little sister. You even told me flat out that you could never think of me in 'that way.' That was the only reason I felt safe enough to let you hug me, hold my hand. That was why I played strip blackjack that one time, with you, T, and K. In case you can't remember, that was the game where you also told me not to have C play, because 'he'd perv on me.'

That game was apparently a big mistake. Now I'm hearing from B that you think I have 'a hot body,' am so 'bang-able' and that 'you'd fuck me if you could.' Apparently, that's mostly all you talk about with him. This is all despite the fact that, in that game, I only got down to bra and panties. Which actually provided more cover than my swimsuit.

I'm a 16 year old girl, in a very serious, committed relationship that just celebrated two years. Which has been the entire time I've been on the boat.

You're almost 21, single, never been kissed, very overweight, pretty unattractive, and, quite frankly, with body odor that could stun a goat.

Honestly, I'm flattered that you think I'm 'hot', but I really don't want to hear it from you. Also, I'd probably be a bit less offended and creeped out if B hadn't also told me that you were saying similar things about all of the other girls on the boat as well.

This all has made me so uncomfortable. When you called me today, to remind me of tomorrow's meeting? In case you couldn't tell, I couldn't wait to get off the phone. When you asked if I was going to be 'sad, since you weren't coming', you might have noticed that didn't answer very enthusiastically. I don't really want to see you, since you'll probably try to hug me again... and there's really no polite way to violently shove someone away.

Oh, and another thing? Thanks so much for that bullshit 'secrecy pact' you all made us agree to that night. It's been really useful. Especially because now B apparently knows exactly how far I've gone, and everything else we talked about. I thought I could trust you! 

Thanks for making me uncomfortable on my own Scout boat,

ps: Yes, you're right. We do all call you 'Fat Bastard' behind your back. I didn't really want to say anything when you questioned me about it, but it's true... you do look exactly like him. Especially with those sideburns. Ew.

x-posted to unsentletters

Journal Disorders: They're Real

Just realized how exceedingly bipolar my recent entries have been...  XD


...and just a pinch of *facepalm*

So... dearest boyfriend was supposed to give Joslyn the GameBoy charger cord today so she could give it to me and I could play Pokemon, since I don't have a cord yet, and my GBA has been dead since Sunday.
So, on the phone last night, he's all "Oh, I promise," "I'll remember," etc... 
Well, he didn't.


I love that boy, but my god... he can't remember for shit. And now I have to wait even longer to play again. I'd been looking forward to it... *withdrawal symptoms*

My baby!


I just saw a 7/11 ad with Domo-kun in it!

My life is now complete...
(plus I might actually go to 7/11 for once, so I can get a free Domo cup. maybe.)


Well, I'm home sick today. Oh joy... I don't really know what it is, but it combines runny/stuffed up nose with a splitting migraine, a slightly upset tummy, feeling like a have a fever, a sore throat, a scratchy voice, and also just feeling like shit. Any ideas? 

Either way, today is NO FUN.

Well, today has sucked butt.
I'm super sick, my depression's hitting again, my parents and sister are being assholes, my sister has decided that it's her job to monitor me, I have a headache, my grades are having a bad dip and my parents have grounded me until they get better, I've been working on homework all day, my mom's interfering again, my GameBoy ran out of battery, nobody will listen to me, my best friend hung out with my little sister and not me, and I'm crying right now.
And tomorrow's Monday.


Never take life too seriously. Nobody gets out alive anyway.

Life's a bitch. If it were easy, it'd be a slut.

Give a man a fire and he'll be warm for a day, but set a man on fire and he'll be warm for the rest of his life.

"Most everyone's mad here."
- The Cheshire Cat, Alice in Wonderland

“Coincidence is the word we use when we can’t see the levers and pulleys.” –Emma Bull

"I'd rather be hated for who I am, than loved for who I am not."
- Kurt Cobain, Nirvana

"Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something."
- Westley, The Princess Bride

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