Wednesday, November 17, 2010

You Are The Only Exception.

I think I am weak. Not wholly, no. But to certain things, without a doubt.

When I reflect on how I might turn out, when I'm considering the future and so on, I see just how weak that I could be. But even if I would put up with almost anything from those that I love? That doesn't exempt the fact that I hate being in the dark. I'm too much like an animal in that sense. I'll just... lose it.

And I hate losing it. I hate not having control over myself. It's the bigges tthing that keeps me so reined in. I don't want to be spread out so thin. But is being happy and silly really so bad? I don't know. I loved last night, walking across Main and doing the hula in a dollar store, hiding under the covers and acting like my DS was a campfire. Posing in front of someone else's mirror and finally giving in to my own exhaustion.

It was nice. I want to do it more often. I hope I can let those little things add up in these next few months. Then, after that 9, the little things will become everything and maybe after some prep, I'll always be giggling like a mad woman. Maybe I won't be so afraid to let out my obnoxious laugh.

Or maybe I'll complicate things. I don't know. Grahhh. /randomnoisesftw.

I drew on my arm yesterday too--with eyeliner--and traced out "Romantic" in half-assed Olde English script. I love that word. I love every implication behind it. "One of the dying few, we the Romantics~" Chivalry, chivalry. It's okay if chivalry dies. I'll be your knight in shining armor regardless~.

I have a thirst for words today.

Avante Guardian is my favorite band of any style, any genre, any age group that there ever was and ever will be. Even A Love Like Pi can't compete. If anyone can find their videos, their mp3s, direct me to them<3.>

Hehe~. :DDD

Question of the Day: If your school played music in passing --like mine!--, what song would you sing aloud without a second thought on it? What song would make you fall over with blood dribbling out of your ears?

Sunday, November 7, 2010

That Boy is a Monster: The Dead Rise Again

Out with the vampires and in with a different kind of corpse, eh?

The Walking Dead is an American television series based on a comic series of the same title by Robert Kirkman, Tony Moore and Charlie Adlard. On October 31, 2010, AMC premiered it with a 90-minute episode during their Fearfest. In true Rabbit fashion, I missed it, and only watched it this morning on, where they will be steaming the pilot--only the pilot--for free. Tonight, the second episode is airing, at 10/9 central. Hopefully, I'll catch it this time.

All in all? I thought it was great for a first episode.
Typically, zombies are presented in quick bursts with little characterization to the true hype behind them; survival. Video games express that well enough, but like movies, they're limited. And for this fact, I was instantly psyched. There's a certain leniency allocated to shows that aren't available to game producers and movie directors. Mostly, that would be time. You can pump out episode after episode and build up, whereas the alternative is to hook the audience, sell the product and pray it floats when you ship it out, all in a matter of 120 minutes or a CD's worth of work. And one shots like that are strictly hit or miss.

But this? Oh, this could grow on you.

We open with an unnamed character leaving his vehicle in search of gasoline. He treks down from the road, makes his way around a few upturned and abandoned cars, and advances on some pumps. A sign stops him short, however, as it reads; "No gas." He idles around for a moment,

Mind you, this is all purely fictional, however, I understand that
even fiction can be powerful enough to stir up strong emotions.
I would not recommend this series to anyone who might be
sensitive to the macabre or otherwise grotesque imagery.

Humans and animals both are going to be munched and chomped and
riddled with bullets throughout the series, as exemplified in the first episode alone.

You have been warned~.

Happy Walking.

Heh. Well. See? I tried. I always try.

I have so many ideas and so many talents that I could use but, I just. I don't have the time.

I never have the oppertunity to focus on any one thing...

It really... just. Bums me out.

I tried to write that... the week... before... last? I don't know. Probably about two weeks ago.


But happiness tops it all!

Know why?

Because I received a letter in the mail last night.

It was from my college of choice. :D

Question of the Day: What are you passionate about? Share some of that passion with me and the rest of my readers.

And a side note: You know. I'd really like to have full on discussions for some of these questions.

If you feel a comment box is too cramped, go ahead and write a blog. Link me to the response.

Let's have a chat! I'd love it. Intelligent conversation, mmm<3.

Friday, November 5, 2010

Inside Jokes and All the Folks

Dear Jamie - HelloGoodbye

"Isn't poetry all about symbolism?"
Yes, why yes it is~. Sometimes.

I suppose depending on how you look at this,
It could either be very cryptic, or very straight-forward.
Take it as you will. /shrugs. It is for my Moon~.

Could I wrap you up in silver threads
Like the water on which the moon treads?
Sprinkle gentle heaps of stardust in your hair
To forever remind me that you are there?

And when the sun should rise again

With fiery tongues there and then,
My hands as swift as bird's wings
With skin cool like porcelain things,
Could I soak up the joy in your smile
With the warmth of it lasting a while?

Would you let me drink in your quirked lips
Loop my arms around your softly swaying hips?
Can I draw down your shoulders in my fingers
And trace your spine where my mark still lingers?

The words fill up the skies, darting among clouds
And we pluck them down like scarlet shrouds,
Our ears once filled with the boisterous volume
Of a thousand songs in their most vibrant of bloom,
And we ask the questions that trail our sleeves
Like Autumn's children all speckled with orange leaves.

Clouds of Sulfur In the Air

And it is time for a rant!
A somewhat rant.

Am I even capable of really ranting something out?
Not like others, I don’t think so… Not often.


I live with my younger cousin, ----. He’s ten, I’m almost eighteen—we’re going to butt heads. That is the inevitability of being so distant in age, right? He’s a boy and I’m a girl. More butting heads, yay. He’s also an only child. And I… am an orphan. It’s two totally different worlds.
I knew we weren’t always going to get along peachy-keen, especially with his hormones setting track for puberty and all of that pish-posh, but eh. The boy is a nuisance sometimes, plain and simple. I love him, really I do, but it’s pretty pathetic that I have to leave angry notes on the bathroom mirror asking him not to use my toothpaste to clean the wall.

All of the things he does really only leads down to one thing; maturity. His mother has told me countless times that it takes men longer to mature than girls. Give or take ten years, that’s about her estimation; twenty-five for women, thirty-five for men to start acting like true blue adults. And I’m not entirely arguing with her, man. I’ve seen the examples and I’ve seen the exceptions. I’m a believer~.

The peeve that I’m addressing is… what? What would you call it? Sportsmanship? Competition? It’s just that attitude, that game-face sort of mien that really pisses me off sometimes. It drives me nutty when a person can’t play a game, or compete at something with others, and leave the turf with the attitude dropped. If you can’t handle it, why are you even doing it?
My little cousin has an Xbox 360—along with every other damn gaming system in creation—and recently purchased a month long online membership. His parents are cutting him off when it ends, thank the gods. They don’t like it because he’s on there talking to people and so on and well, they can’t monitor it. His mum is mostly upset with the fact that he’s been running around saying “faggot” and “butt-wipe.” Again, I can’t help but agree. In fact, I really don’t think a ten year old should have much of an online access to anything unsupervised in the first place, you know? No trial runs about it. Too bad, kid, pitch your fits.

What his parents don’t seem to entirely notice? ---- has this thing about games. If he’s not winning, no one is winning because he ends up in tears and rocking to daddy. If he is winning, he either rubs it in everyone’s face and acts like a cocky little snot, or he just. Spams the same moves over and over, until you’re so frustrated that you want to clock him with a sledge. That attitude? That aggressive, in-your-face attitude? After playing Halo for even a few minutes, he’s got it in full-range, with the seekers out.
He’s a good kid. Polite. Sweet, even. (He has a crush on Miss Lanna!) But when he gets off of that game, he has a totally different persona. I can deal with pesky nagging, or even being called a spud-head, but when he’s just plain bitchy? Shut the hell up! Just. Shut up! Or I will strangle you, demon spawn! ~ u ~
I’m not a violent person until I’m provoked. Then I grit my teeth, or I lash with my tongue. But there have been instances where I’ve wanted to smash his Xbox and twist up that little headpiece he uses to talk to whoever the hell is willing to have their profile stalked that day. I think I’ve shoved him maybe once… But I'm never violent. Still, I end up grinding my teeth and biting back a few murky words.
It makes me wonder if it's my own tempter that has such a short fuse or is it the stress? Or is it that ---- knows all of the right buttons to push? I hope I'm not one of those people that react with their fists when it comes to a tense situation. I've always been so silent. I prefer it. My anger smolders, then fizzles out and dies away, and I get this I-don't-care mien.

While I'm on the topic of ----, can I kind of complain about something else?

Why doesn't this boy know how to shut the door when he's peeing? No, seriously, guys. Our bathroom is literally right next to the front door--I've been hit in the nose once or twice by said door coming out of the shower. So, how is he so comfortable? With me right there on the couch. I just. It's so. Disgusting. I don't want to accidentally get a view of your adolescent wang, I don't want to hear you miss the toilet, and I don't want to hear your appreciative little grunts when you finish up.
I'm pretty sure that if I ever were to get married or even move in with a boy/girlfriend? I would feel just the same about them, no matter how personal and close our relationship had gotten. I'm one of those people that doesn't enjoy vulgar humor, cringes when people giggle and say something about their different bodily functions and recesses; I just don't like it. I'm prim. Proper. Not all of the time, no, but I will crinkle my nose if you're acting like your flatulence is just the most fascinating thing on this planet.

Maybe I’m just a stick in the mud.
So, Senior pictures. 45$ for the cheap-y school ones or 150$ for a session with a photographer?
Choices, choices, choices.

Question of the Day: If you’ve ever had a pen pal (or wanted one?), what were they (/ would they be) like? Did you keep in contact or did it flop?