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know yourself


1. Who is the most important person in your life, and why?
My "siblings". My actual brother and my guy friends that will always be there for me

2. What is the one dream for your life you most look forward to achieving?
... I don't really know what the rest of my life holds. The one certain thing that I do look forward to that is
children. Adopted or what ever.

3. Who has the capacity to make you angrier than anyone else in your life, and what in particular does he or she do to make you so angry?
My mother. I don't have nearly as much anger toward her as I used to, but when she tries to be a mother
it makes me angry because I wonder where that was when I was a child.

4. Who has the capacity to make you feel loved more than anyone else in your life, and what in particular does he or she do to cause you to feel so lovable?
people that spend one on one time with me. When go out of their way for me it proves they care and when
they care that is when I let them in to know me.

5. How do you feel about yourself—physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually?
Physically, I think I'm pretty... somedays. Others not so much. I'm out of shape... unhealthy
Mentally, I feel depressed often. I don't feel worth while. I need someone to prove that I am worth anything
, but I think I need to be happy in myself before I should have someone that is interdependent.
Spiritually, I feel dead right now. I think I am usually very balanced... psychology recently killed my
Cartesian way of thinking about spirit.... but a week ago... I thought I was very spiritually in tune.

6. When do you feel inspired? How does it feel when you are inspired?
It's hard for me to feel inspired lately. When I am in tune with another person is when I am most inspired.

7. What is the most important thing in the world to you?
My own mental well being, and finding out who I am and what I want.

8. If you had one day to live, how would you want to spend it?
Laying in bed watching movies with the person I am in love with... but since I don't have that right now I
would want to have all of my "siblings" in one place just hanging out. I always wish that all of them were in
one place because no matter which home I am at I miss someone. Jacob, Ken, Coluzzi, Mat, Pat...

9. When do you feel most afraid?
When I do not know or understand what is going on. Information cures my fear.

10. If you could accomplish only one thing during the rest of your life, what would it be?
Obtain children... young or old, mine or adopted or working in a system (adoption, school), and live out my
life with them. Knowing them wholly as people and helping them be happy, and successful.

11. What bores you? Why is this?
not much... really. I could sit in a white box and entertain myself... oh talking with unintelligible or
ignorant humans. This frustrates bores and wears on me.

12. How important is money to you? How much time do you spend thinking about it?
I spend a lot of time thinking about it right now because I'm trying to pay for class stuff, but money isn't
important to me at all... really. Happiness is.

13. What is the role of God in your life? Do you believe there is a God, and if so, what is God like in relation to you?
God is my term for the thing that made everything, science, fate. "I do not pretend to know where many
ignorant men are sure." Clarence Darrow It cannot be named. It cannot be comprehended, and we were
most certainly not made in the image of it.

14. What three interests are you most passionate about?
The outdoors
Creating
The people that surround me

15. Who is your biggest enemy, and precisely how and why did this person become your enemy?
... don't know...

16. How important is food to you? Do you feel disciplined when it comes to eating?
I wish we didn't have to eat, sleep,shower. I don't feel disciplined... I guess...

17. Does the idea of being married to the same person for the rest of your life sound appealing to you—or not so appealing? What is there about it that you would especially like or not like?
Very. I suppose it is the being close with someone and always having them there thing I like. I love long
term relationships. The boring stuff is the best. Getting to know someone as well as another human can,
being so comfortable in your own skin around someone, it's great.

18. Do you consider yourself emotionally healthy? In what ways are you especially healthy, and in what ways could you use improvement?
I go back and forth from being in complete balance to being depressed. I think it might just be a chemical
imbalance... I would like to just keep to the balanced bit. lol.

19. Do you argue very much with the people closest to you? How does it usually turn out?
No. I disagree sometimes and am perfectly fine with that.

20. What specifically would you like your closest friends to say about you at your funeral?
I don't know what Ken would say

Aug. 30th, 2009


My entries in this journal are few and far between. I guess I was reminded that I have this yesterday.... I think I believe that fate, god, energy, and scientific laws are all part of something that makes up existance.... so when I say Fate... I mean my super undefined idea of a god... .... I feel like something pulls every single person that I fall in love with away from me. Like my heart has to be open and free when I find something to fill it... adopt a child I meet in Africa.... or... it could just be a way for me to rationalize the fact that the three people I have fallen in love with in my life were all people I can't have...I may just be trying to find meaning and purpose for my heart being raw.... Tired... and depressed.... very depressed... I just want to not feel this anymore... be as emotionless as I pretend to be...

I don't really know yet


I don't really know all that's bugging me right now. I can't even... coherently organize my thoughts. I know that I am completely devastated over the play. I didn't talk about it.... never really talk about anything really. I've put 4 years into theater. Trying to be involved even though I wouldn't make it. Show the director that I'm a good sport... Every year I worked the show I missed out on ... 3 hours of work a day 10 dollars and hour for a good... couple months... I pay for everything myself... I don't think.... idk... It was a huge deal. I sacrificed peace in my household, money, time, life.... just... so much.... and just get denied. I love that feeling of rejection. I successfully made it through my entire High School acting career start to finish without being cast once. Two directors, 4 plays, 4 musicals. ... ... So I'm not doing this show. I told him if I wasn't cast I don't have time for it. I don't. No time for chores no time for sound. Unless it was a major role I wasn't taking it, and I didn't. So the last show of my senior year. I'm un involved it... I really don't want to go back to work... tax season is my bane... Nathan was getting pissed at me for not talking about my feelings.... I just don't talk about shit that bugs me. Talking about it doesn't make it magically better. So why put that on other people? I just don't. I'm sick of words. I'm sick of talking. I'm sick of listening to people that don't know what the hell they are talking about. I'm sick of the word terrorist. I'm sick of the word insurgents. They are people. Citizens if you will. Men women and children if you will. I'm sick of people talking about the war with not a clue as to the fucking reason we are over there... without a clue what we are doing over there... without a clue what would happen if we pulled out... Without a clue of the corruption in the gov't we founded over there... without a clue where it is on the globe.... It's odd... I'm less bothered by those that don't care and don't talk about it than the people that open they're mouths and spew ignorance. ... Terrorism. A man goes into a building with a weapon... kills 30 people and himself... Sounds like an act of terrorism... also sounds like a school shooting....A person could walk into our school in B wing where there is no surveillance no locks no office no nothing and could walk to your classroom and shoot everyone like fish in a barrel and kill himself and because he doesn't wear a turban and doesn't have a beard the entire country feel sympathy for a week and forgets... I'm sick of the necessary focus on the rest of the world before our country... I'm sick of Michigan being a democratic state and the Republican gov't ignoring our cry for help. I'm sick of economics... It happened in the 80's people. The car companies are going down. Don't get out.... don't cower... do something about it. Diversify our economy. Think... The gov't isn't bailing us out this time... as they shouldn't. The market takes care of its self... things happen in the market that you shouldn't fuck with. In the 80's Michigan should have learned but no... Ford especially needs to cut its losses. Sell off the abandoned factories to the foreign companies. They are sitting there sucking all of ford's funds when they could make them enough money to come out on top or at least even. Not to mention that would make so many jobs... People always need cars... Foreign companies would have local manufacturing... ford could move to high end cars instead of the everyday car while Toyota fills that demand... Just...dunno... Just economic babble really... dad's job at Ford has always made me nervous... Mom says the next move will be to Brazil or Germany. Dad says if it's Germany he'll go... ... Just thinking about not seeing my dad... makes my eyes well... college is different... that doesn't bug me. Me being in Marquette him being in Germany.... Tears... A ton of just... little bullshit happened today... I just needed a rant

Dec. 13th, 2007


She looked down at the bleeding, sore covered, skeleton of hands hands that did not belong to her with the sunken, hallowed eyes that did not belong to her. The cold open was threatening. These feet had not a shoe in this icy place. This place was frozen. Feelings frozen. Time Frozen. Preserved in the still frame. She saw in scales of black and white. She continued on through the place that was far to familiar. She had never been here, and yet she had always been here. Facts flowed through her mind that she had never learned, and she was left with years of history of a life that was not hers. As she looked around things fell in and out of focus. Always remaining vividly etched in her mind. Looking up from the snow covered ground, she saw a gate with a sign in words that she could not read. The sign was wrought in Iron. Cold black iron. She had never seen this before in her life, and yet the very sight of the Gate struck a cord of terror in her very being. The Posts of the fence and the gate were extraordinarily straight, but the banner at the top of thoes posts was twisted with the pain of thousands of suffering people. A wave flowed wildly through the harsh words, frozen without the fires of the forge. She stared at the sign. She stared at the rows of barbed wire. She was not allowed past, she knew. It was not the time. She looked back tward the baraks. They offered only a break from the wind. No warmth. He would find her soon. He was looking for her. He had found her family. Each and every last member untill her. She was not afraid though. He would be warmer than this place. Death. Her eyes opened. She didn't blink. Concentration camp. She stared at the celing of her tent, confused for a moment remembering who she was and where she was. She then turned over and grabbed the journal at the head of her sleeping bag. She drew the Gate. She drew the words straight, because she thought the dream may have skewed it. She thought for a second, and then drew the curvy wording. Only later would she learn what it was. She just had a feeling that she already knew. She didn't know that one day, years down the line, she would see this gate while watching a documentary. She would dig through her things and find that journal, and she would get physically sick from the shear terror that she felt, as those memories rushed over her. She knew none of this. She just drew the simple sketch and forgot.

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It was late at night, as she locked the doors and turned off the lights in the house room by room. She reached the last light switch. The miniature houses glowed in the fake snow, and the ornaments reflected the lights magically. It never will lose that magic she thought... She looked at her mother's tree. Not a real tree. Store bought... as the rest of Christmas had become of late. Bought at target for $24.50. You can buy realistic looking trees, with pine cones, and bristles. Her mother did not do this. Those would require up keep and dusting. Her mother purchased a skeleton of a tree. White laminate on wires made to the shape of a tree. If trees had skeletons that when they had rotted away were left behind bleached white... this would be it. They had taken it out of the box earlier that day, and assembled it, with all the wires and bulbs. $24.50. Her mother had had it for years... and She Jokingly called the tree Skeletor for all of these years. And for all it's faults when the lights are off and the tree is lit, she still saw her childhood, Christmas' past. She still saw that tree that she and her family would choose and cut, but that tree and family would vanish once she looked through the mirage. It was Skeletor. What a perfect commentary on my family she thought. She flicked the light switch and the Christmas disappeared into the dark, and she walked to her room.

Nov. 29th, 2007


She
Current mood: content


She looked out the window. The rain fell in torrents. Each drop bouncing as it hit the already saturated ground. The light overhead flickered as it did everyday. She knew without noticing. Her reflection hindered her view of the world outside. How she hated it. She turned back to the room and watched the students working... some of them anyway. Weaving her way through the crowded art room, she walked back to her painting. She stopped, stood and stared studying her work... His noes doesn't look like that... His hair... His shape... Flawed. People that flowed through her room throughout the day complimented her piece... but they didn't know.

To them Art was a class. To her art was an imperfection. We wish to create what we can never make. We wish to recreate a reality we could never hope of touching with a brush. Every artist sees a brush stroke they wouldn't put in. Ctrl+Z.

She wanted to paint Him... She had only painted his slightly better looking cousin to say the closest. She took down the painting and started again.


She was awakened by a peace settled in the house. She stepped from the warmth of her bed and rose into the darkness. It surrounded her as she walked, poised. She padded down the hallway silently. Reaching the living room she paused with the light from the window at her feet. The blackness ended with the window. The night outside was a different shade of darkness, one of night, moonlight. She looked out at the street lights of each house, each which was so familiar in the light of day took on a new meaning, form, life in the night. She turned to the door. Stepping out into the night she felt the cool of the ground under her feet, and the mist on her face. She walked down the steps , and through the familiar trees feeling the dew on the downy grass, and the crunch of the occasional leaf under foot. Fall had come. The smell of it filled her nose, mouth, lungs, Inhaled, exhaled. Fallen leaves, harvest, burning leaves, a crisp, cool scent. She thought of the pumpkin fields on her morning drive. She thought of autumns past, Pumpkin fests, Jackets, The first Hot Chocolate of the season, Football games, Carving pumpkins. The years flooded past as she settled, leaning against a tree. Looking up through the mist she looked at each of the neighboring lights in turn, thinking of those who live there, visits to each, children, games, trick or treating. Her eyes fell on each light one by one drawing her gaze across the night as a steady stream of memories flowed. The last light in her sight was the moon, not quite full, casting a queer blue light on all it reached. She breathed. Her breath rose from her mouth to join the mist that surrounded her. So much peace. Surely it was just a calm before a storm.

SHE


The cool rain helped to stay her mind as she walked to her car. She looked around and shivered. The cold drops pelted her face but it felt good. She looked out at the world from her hood. Something about the rain had always helped calm the rage inside of her. It couldn't take away the sting of the day however. When she reached her car she unlocked it and threw her books inside, and closed the door. She put her hands in the pockets of her sweater and looked at it all. She looked up and the hood that she had used to keep off the rain fell back. The rain coming from infinity fell to her face cooling the flushes of her face. Once again she looked out at the people in the lot. Her classmates. Some running through the rain as if it would spare them from the water, some laughing and socializing. A truck pulled out of it's spot and torrents of water gushed from under the closed tail gate that had been collecting all day... all day long... all the long day.... the very long day. She got into her car, and tossed her cell phone into the cup holder. She leaned back into the seat and sighed a distressed relief. The air in her car was so cold. It was then she realized how very wet she was. She shook out her hair, and started her car. Music started playing.


Her headlights lead her down a twisted road, while the clouds tumbled over each other racing to cover the diamond speckled blackness that covered the endless spaces above her head. As she met with cars along the road, she turned her face bashfully away from their condemning glare. The wind swept her auburn hair into her tranquil face, frozen with fear, a fear of change, a fear of things to come. She raced around the curves, challenging the coming storm with defiant swerve and pace. Using the road and bending it to her will. Staying her mind with the hypnotic flash of trees in her headlights. The time moved by doubled, till one minute became two, and two became four, and four became all she thought of. The grid covering her life making a perfect timeline with hills and curves, red tape, and yellow lines, red lights and stop signs, and open stretches of abandoned road, perfect for the taking

She had lain in bed for hours without the draught of sleep. She tossed and turned in the thoughts of her mind coming in waves to turn the same matters over and over in her head. No new epiphanies coming of their churning. Only frustration and the agitation of feelings she struggled to keep hidden beneath the surf: Trying to bury them under lesser things in her mind: Desperately attempting to keep them from being unearthed by the waves of her thoughts. Keeping herself ignorant to the reason she lay there: The predicament driving her to tears. Soon she stood knowing that sleep would not find her that night, and walked from her bed, to busy herself with a distraction: Something to take her away.


She was awakened by a peace settled in the house. She stepped from the warmth of her bed and rose into the darkness. It surrounded her as she walked, poised. She padded down the hallway silently. Reaching the living room she paused with the light from the window at her feet. The blackness ended with the window. The night outside was a different shade of darkness, one of night, moonlight. She looked out at the street lights of each house, each which was so familiar in the light of day took on a new meaning, form, life in the night. She turned to the door. Stepping out into the night she felt the cool of the ground under her feet, and the mist on her face. She walked down the steps , and through the familiar trees feeling the dew on the downy grass, and the crunch of the occasional leaf under foot. Fall had come. The smell of it filled her nose, mouth, lungs, Inhaled, exhaled. Fallen leaves, harvest, burning leaves, a crisp, cool scent. She thought of the pumpkin fields on her morning drive. She thought of autumns past, Pumpkin fests, Jackets, The first Hot Chocolate of the season, Football games, Carving pumpkins. The years flooded past as she settled, leaning against a tree. Looking up through the mist she looked at each of the neighboring lights in turn, thinking of those who live there, visits to each, children, games, trick or treating. Her eyes fell on each light one by one drawing her gaze across the night as a steady stream of memories flowed. The last light in her sight was the moon, not quite full, casting a queer blue light on all it reached. She breathed. Her breath rose from her mouth to join the mist that surrounded her. So much peace. Surely it was just a calm before a storm.

Peaceful


I feel so at peace. The world seems a peace around me. For a while it felt like everything was so ill at ease just briming tward a difficult end. My nightmares have ended again. Which can only mean well for a while. I hate my nightmares, and I hate when they come true. I was having nightmares of world war III ... They have stopped but I can't help but feeling uneasy about my nightterrors... I have dreams that are normal, but I also have dreams that are in black and white... nightmares. All of my monocromatic dreams are terrifying, and foreboding. I dream of spirits and war... murders and people and events I know... I dream about the holocaust alot. Perhaps that was one of my previous lives... perhaps...
I am frightened. I wake up gasping... Victoria my cousin, Jason my boyfriend and Jeremy my best friend have seen it... most times I don't even remember waking up... Jeremy consulted me on the meaning of his dream. He never dreams but after one day spent with me he starts... I want to know where this will lead me...

Insight


I find it funny how people are

I love to watch them interact

They touch

They laugh

They think and respond

How many people do you really know?

The people that you interact with on a day to day basis.

Do you know them?

That person you hear so much about, but you do not know?

How do you know they arn't the 1 who will change you?

Who will make your life.

Going through the motions of day to day life,

The same thing everyday

The same friends

The same classes

The same sleep

The same dreams

wishes

accomplishments

If you accomplish the same thing everyday can you really call it an accomplishment anymore?

How much time is wasted in our lives on teachers passing out and back papers? 5-10 miniuets in every class every day?

Miniutes, hours, time, years, Time isn't a real thing at all... just a consept people came up with, created...

I watch the Clock in every class.

I watch a man made mecanisim in every class.

I watch a man made mecanisim that measures the shift in an untangable man made unit.

How crazy does that sound?

We all are so worried about everything.

There isn't enough time.

52560000 miniuets in a 100 year lifespan.

Why do we waste it in school?

The answer is-It doesn't matter, It wont change.

Who really wouldn't school?

REALLY think about school.

You may realize you love

the people

The drama

The Life

The buzz

The interactions

The touch

The knowledge

The learning

The growing

If aliens were in a deserted building and all of a sudden there is a Loud ringing coming from everywhere and a few seconds later the building is full of music of life people moving as if they know where to go, so confident in their motions. Then another ring and the motions are more hurried and a last ring and the building were seemingly empty again. It would be a school.

They'd be horribly confused

"These walls are kind of funny. First you hate 'em, then you get used to 'em. Enough time passes, gets so you depend on them. That's institutionalized. They send you here for life, that's exactly what they take. The part that counts, anyways"~ Red Shawshank Redemption

We arn't horribly confused when thoes bells ring

We're excited

We appritiate life

Some more than others

I love people

How different they all are

Yet all similar

The way the react to things

The way they are fake and when they are real with you you cant help but feeling it.

Deep down

The feeling of a connection

Real conversation

Real people

They are special moments

I have a few people where thoes moment arn't just few and far between.

My people that we don't really talk about much other than serious things

People didn't get danielle and I...

They thought it was sexual and that was why we were so close and secure with each other

There are just thoes people that we connect with

Sean

Danielle

even laura it seems now though we arn't close. She is one

Just thoes people that are real.

They have an aura about them.

Sean when he is on stage you can see it.

Dani's too

People that arn't afraid of themselves

People

I love to watch people

I love to watch them interact

They touch

They laugh

They think and respond

How many people do you really know?

...

Fatal Flaw


I have a feeling that my fatal flaw is getting in the way of me moving on past things in my life... I don't know what it is. I'm to close to fix myself. I cant just look into myself and smooth the clay and everything is better. I suppose if I knew what my fatal flaw was I could prevent it from being "fatal" This is all just silly rambeling ofcource about my rationalization of the day. Just goofy. Not deep. Never as deep and slicing as I wish I could write. I wish I could cut to the bone with my words. To make your spine wrigle in the wake of my words... but alas I am no writer. In one of my classes we were told to write a story. Why is that so difficult? I used to write stories all the time when I was younger. Have I been so conditioned to write only in opinion, to THINK that MY opinion counts in the slightest, that I can no longer write any sort of fiction worth reading? Then I realized the only things I have writen since 5th grade have been essays. Is it then that my fatal flaw and that many's is that I am able to be conditioned by an institution? That we are all just to be formed into perfectly miserable puzzle pieces. No mater how much we rebel, resist, refuse? What is it about school that we find so wrong in our gut? Work? Money? Society? Why can we not escape? Even if we wanted to that would be one person. Nothing will ever change. Why did we make these then? The very concepts that trap us? Perhaps my fatal flaw is to be human. Perhaps I do not change because I cannot?

I want them to know by my tears they won. I want them to know what they won. They won my confidence. They won my pitty. They won my the very beats from my heart.

I was just sitting there enjoying the show. They were sitting behind me. They pulled my bandanna that was fastened to my head out of my hair. They kicked me. They kicked me hard in the back of the ribs. They pinched me. They embarassed me, and they made me cry. They just didn't stop... I was surrounded by a sea of bodies. The bleachers full I couldn't move... I wanted violent justice... I cowered. I don't cower... People don't make me cower. People don't tease me. I don't tease anyone. I'm just as lowly as they made me out to be. A mouse among lions. Quiet and to be played with. I feel as though my very being has been shaken... Worse yet. I've never even talked to her and her friend I thought was my friend. I don't even remember the last half of the assembly. How are people so crule? I feel like I'm going to vomit. The only person that stood up for me was Billy. The only time I danced with my freshman year at homecoming... he looked lonely. I haven't really talked to him since. I may leave. I may just go to Indiana like my aunt offered. I hate this place. people and all. I always am up beat about everything here. The truth is I love and despise it. Carmen Kinery needs to get socked in the face, but I won't be the one to do it. If she ever did that to Jenn or someone else I would have punched her soo hard... but not for myself? I think thats funny.