WHOA. Sophomore year of college has commenced. Course load moderate, friend situations lovely, love life nonexistent, happy as a clam.
Let's hope it stays that way. Well, except the love life part.
-Christina
smaller tits and younger limbs can cause a fit of rivalry...
Eventful summer indeed! I've been having a ridiculous time doing many fun things; picnics and parties and road trips and sleepovers and fun fun shit.
be on the look out for updates.
this summer is totally tits.
there's a man holding a megaphone, he must have been the voice of god...
I'm depressed today, ladies and gentlemen. No easier way to put it. No simple phrase, no explanation. Live isn't my forte. Furthermore, to be cared for is not something most people think of when they see me. I'm your atypical girl and no one stops to think that I hate it. I wish I was someone's. I actually liked someone before they made it apparently clear that I depress them. The fact that I can depress a person who generally made me blush makes me feel so low.
I'm not a part of life.
I'm just existing.
I wish I didn't.
flashback!
These pictures pictures are from the video from some time in 2000. We were all very young, very drunk, and very silly...with quote accompanyment
(yours truly)
"Betsy, I'm a cheap whore. You have morals and all that good stuff."
"I know."
(Jessica taking alcohol away from Annette, then me, then Kim sitting on Jon's lap)
Annette: "Jessica! You BITCH! You BITCH!"
"Alcohol does this to you. They should show this to everyone and say, 'do you want to act like this?' Then don't drink. Kim's boobs are so damn big it's disgusting."
(Jon and kim)
"Kim's a lesbian, go figure."
"I almost made out with Jon."
Me: "Annette and I don't make out."
Annette: "We're HOMIES!"
Oh, good times...
we can never fail, we can only go down (5/6/03)
Okay, so I wrote a new poem out of the rummage of last night's overanalyzation. It's about a window. It's about love, lust, whatever I feel about "romance." Which isn't much because I'm cynical yet emotional. I read it today for class...anyway...
staring at a window
the light shining through these
little colored pieces of cellophane and plastic
a beautiful mix of colors
that his careful hands
placed upon the glass
color poured through bright
despite the fact the world
outside the window was dead
winter had killed everything.
that window was my love.
he tricked and shielded my eyes from the truth
the real world
my windows never decieved
my eyes
as beautifully as his.
his was sunlight beaming
bright red, orange, yellow
roy g. biv if you will
even when opened
cold air rushed in
cigarette must let out
i still smiled
the gray of the world
stacked below his plastic fantasy.
ironic.
but. perfect.
the spaceheater had died the night before
i had a hind of what was to come
but his window lied to me
preaching summer days and romance
clearly the death surrounding was just...minor.
that was love.
and finally
when stepping outside
across cold, dead grass
to the car
that reeked of coffee and cigarettes
habits and muses
truth
riding along the pot-hole stricken roads
back to home.
the car windows beat the back of my brain
ever hous disheveled
paint peeling
the dent in the car ahead
game over.
this is love.
i have respect for the careful hands
spending time perfecting the outlook
the windows-no longer shine trough
with truth
but for that moment his colors
confused and engaged my morning vision.
the distraction was beautiful
demeaning, terrible, and lovely.
if he stripped away that layer
and i forced to stare clear into the cold morning
i would have nothing to look forward to.
love is false advertising.
the careful hands
that prepare this
scenery hold my heart.
