omnia_et_nihil

Sigh, summer has come and past, well almost. I should be psyched for senior year, and yet I feel like this is the last summer I will ever have as a kid well teen, technically a minor, and I feel I have yet to do anything. Honestly spent my summer sleeping past noon, hanging, watching soccer, going to movies, hanging, and well. I feel like I should of had an adventure, and a boyfriend, just, I want to be kissed before I turn 18. Why isn’t my life like a movie? Like where I find summer love, and thrills?

My father, again the saga continues. He calls me, and I try to get through to his that I don’t want to camp in the middle of nowhere for a week. We get into this argument. He says I need to experience nature, need to climb to the top of the mountains, be in the wilderness, and away from the cities. Again his whole argument he keeps making about nature being the mother of us all, worship it, abandon civilization and be free. Honestly though I don’t want to bathe in a mountain stream, or sleep on the dirt.
I keep trying to tell my father that I would rather do something around other people, I like people. I tell him, in some futile attempt to get him to show interest in what I am interested in, that I like going to open like nights and poetry readings, I like art galleries, and such things. He says I need to get away from people, to break the trap of being in awe of the cities and things humans make. Because nothing human’s can build is anything compared to what nature can create. I say what about art.
Honestly I could care les about cities and modern marvels. Though I do like city lights at night. No I like art. Since going to Italy with the Latin Club, I like art a lot more. Cities I could care less, the only city I have ever been in awe of was Venice, because it was beautiful truly. But art, I believe in art. I came to this thought when I saw Michael Angelo’s David in Florence, human beings truly must have a spark of divinity, and are the panicle of God’s creation if a man can make such a beautiful amazing thing out of just cold marble, which is just a rock, but it could turned into that. Yes, that is the thought I came to, hardly original I know. It’s basically the humanism mixed with religious sentiment, but honestly I think most things we think have been thought before, people think alike, right?
But anyway, I appreciate what human beings can create and the beauty of art or poetry far more than a cliff face or a forest or mountains or desert, or any of it. But he says, art is just trying to imitate nature, it’s just an imitation, even portraits. Well yeah I concede that, it’s a romanticist notion, my belief nature is art painted and sculpted by the hand of God. Yeah, back to tangent. He says everything is nature, like landscapes are just pictures of nature, and even portraits, what made the face of humans.
I say God (because in case you haven’t noticed at this point I am kind of religious). Then he goes on a tirade bashing my beliefs. You say God, that doesn’t mean anything; you might as well say bod or zod it doesn’t mean anything.
I remaining calm as I always do with him. Say I don’t want to have this argument, please just respect my belief, you can have yours. But no, he says, beliefs are nothing, you used to believe in Santa Clas and the Easter bunny, and where did you get your beliefs. I reply, from my own introspection and decisions.
Really I was not raised in a superreligeous house, my mother changed religions like some people change there clothes, oh she always believed in God, and Jesus and she would speak of things. Like once, she said, before I was born, after she ha been beaten she was crying and she had felt the holy spirit of Jesus, and she took some colored pencils, and drew a picture of Jesus, and she said it looked like a painting even though it was only colored pencils. (The picture was later stolen or destroyed as most things were in her life before I was born) And she also used to tell me when I was born, I crawled up her, and reached out and grabbed the cross necklace she was wearing. (Though I highly doubt this is true because a new born can’t physically do that). The point is I have some religious influence, but I am not a mindless zealot.
Honestly, I do pray every night, I talk to to God as well as saying prayers. But I am not I don’t go to church, or buy into any dogma, my relationship to god is personal. I am baptized a catholic, but I was not raised one, and I don’t know very much about the religion, or any religion other than just being a Christian, and my own beliefs. Honestly, my mother wasn’t hard ore catholic or anything, we had one peace of religious art, an icon I guess in the house, and one crucifix n the wall in the kitchen. But we had this one painting, or set of paintings rather, antiques my mother had from when she owned an antique store in New Mexico with Jean Luke, her ex husband (not my father, my mother and father were bed mates and that was all). Her marriage to Jean Luke was a brief period of sobriety in her life before I was born. (he had an affair, and she lost everything in the divorce because she was too heat broken to hire a lawyer, then lost what she did get to the addicts life style she fell back into. She had been an addict before that, since she was 16 and lost her first daughter Sean Marie shortly after she was born, that was when my mother’s self destructive life style began. Anyway back to the point, that painting) That’s the only thing Catholic we had in our house, it was a series of pictures telling the story of a saint. I don’t even remember his name, but some saint from Mexico who saw the Virgin Mary. Anyway, I always liked the way he looked in the painting, how warm his eyes were, and the eyes of the Virgin Mary too. I was drawn to it as a child, ad to the rosary, even though I am not catholic, whenever I was frightened during the bad times when my mother was strung out, I would pray the rosary. When ever I am worried, or afraid I pray. But I have never been deeply devout.
I questioned my belief in God when I was four, because at that age I could not accept the bible as literal truth. What about dinosaurs, and how old the earth is. Yeah at that age. But growing up, I came to God on my own. It is what I know in my heart. I have chosen my beliefs, and they are based most on my own feelings. Which I only ask that my own father can respect.
But no. He has to say how God doesn’t exist, and I’m just being lazy and buying in. Oh please, I am not being lazy I have spent so much time introspecting on the matter God, and belief, and talking with my friends on the matter. Some of whom have opted for atheism, eastern religions, some who have even experimented with the occult. Really though, I don’t car if you are hind, Buddhist, Muslim, Christian (any sect), Jewish, or even if you are a non main stream religion. Honestly you can be a Satanist for all I care, as long as you aren’t hurting anyone. The point is, I won’t judge you, and I just hope you can do me the same curtsy.
But my own father cannot. Really, even if I was some sort of republican, conservative, zealot, e should respect that. I’m not, I am (though in my own personal morality a complete prude) a very liberal person. Honestly I don’t care for rules, or narrow minded thought based on blind belief, but I think everyone has a right to do what they want and believe what the want.
But my father is ranting at me about Darwin, and DNA, and how there is no God. And this totally irrelevant to what I want to talk to him about. Which is that I his daughter, at 17 am nearly a grown woman and have my owns interests beliefs, and seen of self, however do want a relationship with him. But I just don’t want to go camping alone with a man I barley knows, and would rather he spend time with me doing something I enjoy. I want him to get to know me, me, who I am, not just wanted to spend time and force his beliefs on me because I am his daughter.
Daughter by blood, not by choice, and not by bond because he never formed one with me. I want a relationship, of course I do. Just he seems to care less that I am as a person, I just want to be me, and I want him to want to know, and accept me. Really I’m an interesting person; I write poetry and songs, and books, I like art, philosophy, (but not someone preaching beliefs at me with out respecting money or allowing for an argument). He says I never talk, that I’m quiet, I’m introspective yes, but I can be a very interesting person to talk to if you listen to me. (teachers have said that I am profound, passionate, amazing at times with what I say). But my father doesn’t seem to care. I am so frustrated in some ways.

My father calls again it turns into an argument. I said I wanted to come for labor day. He gets mad starts cussing at me. The money isn't worth it is you are only coming for three days. I keep telling him I don't want to camping for a week. He says I've been ruined. That something has turned me against his strange point of view. Well excuse me for being my own person, I am a nearly grown woman, and I do have my own interests, likes and dislikes. He says everyone is trying to give him the run around and never let him see me, and he alls everything a bunch of BS and he is actually swearing at me. Then I yell at him abbot never coming to visit me hardly when I was growing up. I saw him like five times my entire child hood, and no child support, not that I care about the money its just in what way was he there? I said I wanted him to be there when I was young. And I did, I wanted a father, I say he could have come. He goes off about him living n poverty. Which is not the issue, it doesn't take that much money to visit. My mother wasn't rich, same amount of money, she raised me while living on welfare. And he continues to goes off about not having money. Living n poverty, and about how I am trying to break his heart. Calling me insensitive for suggesting he could stay in a hotel and could have visited me then, could still visit me at my aunt and uncles. No heaven forbid I suggest he stay on a hotel, and he rants about having to spend money to spend time with me. As if I am some greedy person. I suggest getting a job, no he can’t get a job, he has to stay on SSI, and yell at me about him not having money. Besides the point.
In the meantime I am trying to speak in a good tone and kind tone that I don't want to hurt him, that I just don't want to go camping for a week. And we got into it about how my mother and everyone kept him from visiting when I was younger, (no, my mother just didn't want him to stay at our house for a month when really they conceived me when they were both drug addicts who were sleeping around and they don't really like each other, they can’t stand each other because my father acts like child and set my mom off, more than that he refused to wear clothes, and didn't want to sleep on the couch. Hello as if my mother is obligated to sleep in the same bed as you). Then he keeps saying I don't know what I like, and I keep trying to tell him that I know myself more than he does. Because hello, he just refuses to see me as a grown woman, I am not a child, my God. And he keeps ranting about how I've never given anything a try, and how I'm clothed minded. I say I've been camping, he says that my mom liked to camp in camp grounds. But of course! Hello, no duh, that is what normal people do. And we got into it about how the last time I came we went out to eat and it cost 75 dollars for three people to eat dinner, and he goes on a rant about shopping and fashion and materialism, which have nothing to do with anything. The point is I don't are if he's poor, he's the one making a big deal out of it. I just want him to you know respect me, or even care about me. No he cares about his daughter, like his ideal of who his daughter is, but I swear in his mind he still sees me as a child or something. He doesn’t care who I am, or seem to realize I’m a person you know, 17, not 7. God, and he's cussing, and acting like I'm trying to hurt him. God.

I went shopping today, I would have much rather gone in the evening as I am not a morning person. However I made out like a bandit. We found this quaint little shop with very interesting clothing. I got a black velvet spaghetti strap to with gold lace and lovely sequin bead work, two silk skirts with a lace and sequin lining one is read and fades to brown with amber beading while the other is turquoise on the top and fades to a very rich purple with torque sequins set into the lace button, I also got a long Victorian eske skirt a burnt pastel pink with lots of white lace, I also got a Victorian esce blouse its layered with a pink camisole then a lacy pink top over it, and ribbons it looks very Victorian and is almost doll like, a nice shirt from India with a traditional Indian pattern on it, again with a ribbon, (the ribbons you tie under your bosom, and this style of shirt works with me since my waist I so long and tiny), I also goy a ream colored corset esce camisole with nice lace work on the top and button (its pretty not slutty I swear), I also got a black Victorian esce skirt with white lace through out (a little French maid like but it looks fab on), another Victorian ecse top exactly like the pink one but black, another just black Victorian esce skirt with shear net lining (honestly I would look Goth except for the fact I’m blonde and constantly smiling, honestly though I like victorian esce clothing it looks good on my figure because modern clothes weren’t made for woman shaped like an hour glass and that’s me, like jeans, my God, hard to find a ft because my hips are huge, yet my waist is so small (though fitting into dresses is a breeze), and finally a very cute sun dress it is ink and blue like cotton candy and wispy like a fair dress almost. Then I also got two pieces of jewelry. A Victorian esce choker, very large and elegant, made of gold and accented in amber the center peace of which is a large cameo rose (roses happen to be my favorite flower) the necklace came with matching ear rings, and another cameo set in blue frames by blue velvet (I like blue because when I wear blue my eyes look bluer, I love my eyes having grey eyes is fun). Now the best thing about all this is that all this only came to 130 dollars. Isn’t that wonderful, I think it is, and is quite happy.

The shopping took my mind off my Father, I love him, but, honestly I don’t know the man. He’s trying to bond with me, but I’m seventeen, and where was he when I was a child, I only saw him once every three years or something. And he has such weird ideas. He is a long haired, hippy person who is very much like a hobo. And it’s hard forming a relationship. He wants to take me camping and to quote my aunt and guardian in respects to me going camping “she’s a bit of a princess” I have also been called fussy, vain, and a brat. Meh, whatever. Anyway, I am kind of, I like stuff, and being clean and I wear velvet, lace, and silk, and don’t have any tee shirts that particularly want ruined either. I don’t like camping. My father say I don’t know what I like, well excuse me. Anyway it’s not just camping, I can do nature, in fact I like hunting, and horse back riding, though fishing is dull. Anyway it’s just that he wants to live off the land and clime to some mountain top, and bath in hot springs and water falls. And he keeps talking about nature worship, nature is your mother, forget God, worship the earth, set yourself free, you’re buying in to the materialism and modern technology is a curse. (At this point in the conversation I reminded him that we were talking on the phone, hello that’s technology). Honestly though, I don’t want to be lectures on nature worship, or set free, and I understand his need to try and be some sage figure and teach me something, I am his daughter after all, but I’m 17 at the moment. And it’s not in my nature to want to listen to anyone or be taught, I’m trying kind of to figure out things myself right now. And you know camping, and nature, and picking wild mushrooms (to eat not the drug kind) and berries, and catching crawdads in the stream would all have been more appealing when I was 5 or 10, really. And I start thinking about him being there when I was little, and I think of my mother, and him not being there when I was 12 and she was dealing drugs out of our house, and when I was locking myself in my room with my rosary praying to God that the stoner friends she let in the house wouldn’t break my door down and hurt me. Or that someone would come in and shot all of us, she kept pounds of marijuana in the closet, her table in her room held baggies of white powder (not sure what drug it was), and she kept her drug money in my room, my room, hidden in the stand for a porcelain doll that I had on the top of my book shelf. (not to mention she owed a lot of money to the Cuban mob, she said once when I left to go stay with another relative” you are my daughter and f you loved me you should want to die with me”) And I think why wasn’t my father there when my mother lost herself to addiction. (and I feel so sad). But oh my mother’s better now, recovering after being in and out of jail for 2 years after I left, and finally like herself again and doing better and for the past 4 years since 8th grade summer I have been living with my aunt and have been so happy. But when I talk to my father, I think about both my parents, who are both, well. In my father’s defense I never told him what was happening with my mother. I never told anyone for two years until it got so bad I was afraid to stay there anymore, and my mom was falling asleep at the wheel on the freeway, and never home at night, and oh God. I hate thinking of this. Anyway I never told him or anyone, my mother said she’d kill herself if I told, or left her. And if I told someone would take me away. When I was four she told me that if I ever told that she did pot I would be taken away, and she would kill her self. She held a knife to her chest once, it was Christmas time, I remember that, I was around 6, and said “do you want me to stab myself, you hurt mommy the way you are acting, you want me dead”, that was always the way with her. Emotional manipulative trips, Mother, oh Mother. And during the drug thing it was if you tell you’ll be killing me. To save myself at her expense. You should love mommy.
I hate thinking about this. Its over though, its done, and I am a well adjusted, successful young lady, good in school, normal, no issues, but, its an inescapable fact my past.
My mother did love me, when I was a child, oh I was spoiled. I think she replaced her drug addiction with motherhood in some ways. Though she used while pregnant, induced labor with drugs, afterwards she got clean. And I was a miracle baby, undamaged by all she had done. And I had a good childhood. She doubted on me, bought me any toy I wanted, spent time with me, always, I was her world, and she was mine because I was a child and she was my mother. She fell of the wagon when I became a teenager; she needed to have a child. Dependent on her, it was what held her to being straight in some ways. She said I stopped loving her, or in her mind I was grown up and didn’t need her. She didn’t understand that teenagers pull away, that’s nature, and she saw it as abandonment. She had only had two roles in life, addict and mother. So when I began to grow up, she reverted to the only other role she had ever known. Another thing was that her mind was very much like a twelve year olds, all the drugs she had done, and the fact she through herself in front of a truck once before I was born (she also once shot herself point blank, and other suicide attempts, before I was born she was always looking for death or pain, her own destruction) and the truck did some damage to her mind. So when I started growing up, and I was learning so fast then I had recently learned to read (in 4th grade due to finally recognizing and overcoming dyslexia) and was discovering my own intelligence. I surpassed her in some ways; many times it felt like we were sisters or something, now she is very like a child.
She is clean now, and everything is right with her. Though she still is very child like, and doesn’t like the fact I’ve grown up. She calls me and tells me she misses me, and talks about seeing other parents with their daughters. I say most teens avoid there parents, she says she meat the little kids. She misses the little girl I was, when I was 16, last summer I went to visit her and she gave me this porcelain doll she’d been saving, which she called Annabel, and she said she wanted me to have it. I was like, thanks um, do you realize I’m 16. But her mind is different, I understand that, and I love her. Love her with all my heart, despite times I’ve felt horribly towards her. I love her, she better now really. Living with a friend who is a paraplegic as his live in care giver. So she has someone dependent on her, and he gives her room and board, a place to stay. Codependent is how she functions, and now it seems things have worked out for the best for her.
Gosh I guess I had to get that introspection out. Sigh, and back to my father. Well, I don’t know him; there is no familial bond between us. I do want a relationship. I do, and want to love him. It’s just a weird time now, I guess. I don’t know, I want to be a good daughter, and I don’t know. I’ll try. Camping, nature, listening to his rants on conspiracy theories, and his lude jokes, and his complete lack of since of social graces and propriety, I have to learn to accept him, know him, and even love him for ho he is, I suppose.

Wow, I've written alot about my excuse the vernacualar (s**t). Man I'm open about this,I guess I have to be, I can't just introspect and keep in inide, writing it is good. So there it is. Man my life is srreal, I wish it wasn't true it sounds like a lifetime speacial. Sigh, bt now I'm good, so very blessed and lucky.

What is my mood, still anxious, still yearning, and perhaps, something similar to being afraid? Its just summer is passing swiftly, and this is my last summer as a girl, and not as adult. 17, I should be savoring it, I should be out doing something. Turning 18 isn’t death or the end of the world, but it is an end, and when I was a child, I never wanted to grow up, it was an accepted fact, something that would eventually happen, like death. No this is life beginnings, and I like growing up, I like being a woman, and flirting with boys, and independence, but I like being a teenager, its ending, what has been my universe up until now, a few more months, then all grown up. Scary. And I still haven't done anything exciting this summer, where is the romance, the adventure. I want to be out doing something.
(Well get out there then) I think to myself, because musing on problems does little to solve them. I am not a girl who goes to parties, there seems no where to go to meet people here in this town where I am visiting relatives. I want more. I want experience, life, now, please. What ever. I did see a boy the other day though, at the book store. He smiled at he, I liked that, the way he was looking at me. Interesting boy, he wasn't dressed Goth or punk, but must have been wearing heavy make up, hi face was as white as milk and flawless, he was also very pretty for a boy, like if he had been wearing a dress he could pass for a girl. But he was a boy, and a good looking one, big eyes, red hair which was an unusual shade of red, not like a fake color though it might have been, just a lot better looking than most red heads. Most red heads have orange hair, but his was deeper, ok musing on what boy looked like, stupid journal rambling. Pathetic no, the most exciting thing that happens to me is a boy looking at me. I need to do something, find adventure, and find love, something teenage, like a movie. Life is not like the movies, it’s boring.

Other news, my uncle has been teaching me to do Taro, and I am actually good at it. I am not that strong a psychic, one of my cousins, well she can see ghosts and I have an aunt who does aura cleansings and healing, but I’ve only felt things psychically, energy, and only seen things once or twice. Honestly though ghosts are needy, and I tend to push the away. (I am not crazy, I know this sonds weird) But taro is fun, I've been giving readings to friends over the internet, and they are shockingly accurate. I guess that's one cool thing. But what's the point of trying to look into the future, all we have is now, I should be making the now, doing something.

Well I will do something today. There is a major blood shortage in this city; they've been having to cancel surgeries at the hospitals, so I am going to go give blood. That's good, because it’s doing well, I like that.

Last night while laying in bed, trying to get to seep at 3 am, I began to think This is something I often do when I have time to reflect and introspect. Normally I do this while walking alone at night, but thinking in bed worked just as well, if well is what it could be called. Began to wonder what history will say of our age, of my generation. In school we studied history and literature forward through time; every time had an age in was called, and seemed to have a prevailing attitude, and certain events that shaped it. I think we are generation net, or so I know we are called by some.
What does that mean, how will that affect s. Well we are generation instant gratification. Honestly anything I want is virtually at my fingertips. Anything I want to know I can find in about thirty seconds, I can also find endless entertainment, and connection. Instantly I could talk to anyone on earth, and with the availability of on line translators, I really could connect and communicate to anyone. That I think is a miracle.
Now let me be romantic for a moment. The entire world, or at least the developed world with access to computers can connect, can communicate as human beings. Nothing can divide us from each other, not distance or language, and the television and global market capitalism is already making cultural barriers be less. Mind I am not praising Star Bucks, or claiming that Americanization, or suburbanization is noble. I do not want the world to become homogenized, but rather a blend.
Think about in the past when cultures blended. Like America, like New Orleans and its music. Jazz, he influence of African beats, and the music and ideas of other countries, blending, and growing out, so that we eventually get Rock and Roll. America, the melting pot, like there is no American food, there are just different types of food available, and clothing, and we are a blinded culture.
Well I think the internet could make the world blinded. Already our language is becoming infused with Japanese words, thanks to the internet largely. I.e. used in an sentence “Christian Slater (watched some 80s love movie, he was hot when he was younger) is bishi I want to glomp him” Bishi being a deviant of Bishoshen which is a Japanese word deriving from anime and literally translated means Beautiful boy, and glomp means love pounce. So we see an example, but let’s think on a more serious note. Television brings the word to us, so does the internet, and music, we can be exposed to so many types through the internet, through my space, through the Pandora music program, and what about thought.
The spreading of thought. Think about revolutions in the past, and reformations. What caused the protestant reformation, the printing press, the translation and availability of the bible, a means for thought to be spread? And the French revolution, and our own dear country’s birth, why those were spurred by the writings of Locke, Pane, Voltaire, and others. But then, well it could take months for a pamphlet to spread through out an area, and even some of the noble class was illiterate, so things spread through word of mouth, and over distance that took time. Yet now we have reached the age of instant. And most people, even the worst students in areas that have education, can communicate well enough to use and instant messenger or post on a blog sight such as this. We can reach everyone, thoughts could spread faster the a fire on kerosene doused wood. Oh what great things could that bring? Perhaps fabled utopian society among the world could be at hand, everyone could connect, and such great change could be made.
Yet the down side of instant. It spoils us, we are accustomed to instant gratification. I can have anything I want, any information, any song I’d care to download be it Beethoven or Dashboard Confessional, I can watch YouTube and have instant amusement for thirty seconds or so, even watch whole movies, and games, well those are plentiful. Then I also have, like most Americans the television, so many channels, my God, its almost obscene. But what it is instant gratification, in HD TV they have a channel called the sunrise channel, which is 24 hour live feeds of sunrises from beautiful vistas all around the word set to classical music and broadcast in HD. Wow, I could set, as an insomniac, at one in the bloody morning and just admire the beauty of the sunrise. It’s just like pleasure, all this instant is a drug. “Getting high on information,” to quote the song Californication. We can be so stimulated, that we don’t need human connection, or possibly.
I know people who are addicted to WOW, world or war craft, I know a guy, smart nice kid, who accidentally spent three days playing it, and didn’t even notice that the sun had risen and set three times, and that time had passed. We can play Sims for hours building doll hoses and playing with what amount to as virtual dolls, or the more addictive Simscity where we just build a city, and its engrossing. Video games, Myspace, all of it, and I think to that article I read. A man in South Korea who died in an internet café, he was playing some rp video game and just didn’t stop, even to eat or drink, and died of thirst in a coffee shop. My God, its sick. This is the down side.
Not just that a few people who seriously need to get lives or boy/girlfriends let these things take over there lives its that the things can. They are that entertaining. Yes the internet can bring connection, but it can also in some way harm our humanity, or our connections to it. Like, we don’t need other people to be connected to other people, to be entertained, I think boredom is one of the reason people socialize. But f course it is a basic human need to socialize with others. But touching seems to be something not done very much anymore. I mean really, most don’t hug their friends, and its only couples that physically touch each other. But I have that some boys don’t like it when their girlfriend holds them in public because it seems possessive or something. Oh what tangent was I on again.
Well humanity, and connection. Like at a store, do you see the other shoppers as humans, I mean you don’t talk to them, meet their eyes, or smile at them always, they are just there part of the landscape. The person who checks you out is just part of the machine, smile nod, pay go on, this person does not affect you as a person, they are in some way, inhuman almost, you don’t connect to them. I think people should greet each other talk. Like on airplanes, you sit next to a stranger and may not utter a single word to them on a five hour flight. What is that. We need to see each other as people and connect.
Does this have anything to do with being the age of net. Maybe, maybe it makes us more self-centered, because it is a device which serves us, and fulfills our need for stimulation, intellectually, and through entertainment. I don’t know, I know I’m 17, and that my peers at least, well to over generalize, are selfish. Bt perhaps that’s just teenagers, they are selfish creatures. But we are the first generation of teenagers to grow up in generation net, what will be the effect?
I think technology is speeding p the world. Think about it, from 1300 to 1400 not much difference, 1900 to 2000 huge leaps. Now it seems everything we can buy will be obsolete with in a month, like my cell phone/ video camer/taperecoder/camera/web browser/V cast receiver/mp3 player is obsolete. Make in thinner, make t do more. Maybe we are all buying into consumerism that will in the end consume our souls.
As if, no I laugh at the thought, so melodramatic. But who knows what will be in the future, or what our society will become, or what historians will say.

This is my rant, I think to much sometimes, I also blame that on being a teenager, you begin to question everything when you hit puberty, being a little girl was easier, but at east as a woman, I have my humps, my humps my humps my humps, check it out. Sorry had to end on a light note.

I am restless. I find myself pacing, bt then agian I always pace. I have so mch enegry so mh, well want. I want to be out doing something. Oh where is that horizon, where is the adventure. I am restless. My God, I don't understand why, but its just me,I want to e somewhere, do something, I want an argument over something, a debate. I want something that could be an outlit for my, oh how you say, fevor, passion, just need to get out my energy. I need to yell, I need excitemnet, I need. I need to sit own, and qit pacing. At hope I often go for a walk as soon as the sun sets, five miles nder the light of the streetlights and the moon. Just me and my brat of a dog, who I love still. Like how we comes into my room, and puts his head on my lap, like a unicorns in a tasetry. Sometimes he puts hi front legs in my lap as well, trying to get his whole hug boddy on top of my lap. Sometimes, if I'm sitting on the floor, he' just sit on my lap o that his huge butt is on top of me. Other times when I am sleeping he'll get into bed with me and sleep next to me. Then I wake up and kick him out, but he still does it. I swear that dog smirks when I yell at him, just the look in his eyes. Devil creature, but so sweet at times when he stands right by my side.
Thinking of dogs that always is calming, as is writeing pontles journal entries.

I look creepy when I laugh. Which is why my friend who I'll all A decided to snap this picture while I was laughing at her. Taken on the bus from Pompeii to Rome.

I keep forgetting my pas word. I can’t help thinking that maybe I’m disorganized. I keep flashing back on school, and Latin class and always losing my translations, and Latin dictionary. Which I actually found today, I’ll have to remember to return that in the fall. Its like why can I remember and know so much, yet be so, well scatter brained. Artistic mind? I mean really, my own pass word. Oh and, lot my train of thought.
Anyway, summer, I feel like I should be doing something. I let my mind wander, and it runs away. I wished I lived somewhere near a beach, or something, where people are, where the fun is. Seven teen, and I feel like my life should be more like a movie or paper back novel. Wishful thinking. Fall in love, spend the summer like that. But it seems the summer and my life flow along, boring, tedious, calm. A placid stream, I want the rapids though baby. Give me adventure.
Meh, I sigh. My father called yesterday. Its odd with him, I call him by his first name in my own mind, and he wants to forge a relationship with me, but it’s awkward. He’ just not, well we are different people, and the things he talks about doing would be more fun if I was nine (camping, catching crawdads, and other such things). Both my parents are like children themselves and some how missed the I’ve grown up memo. But he does love me, both my parents do, I know this, and am glad of it. I wish my father bereaved me when I said I loved him. He just feels the awkwardness, we don’t know each other. He says I’m too quiet; well I’ll speak when I have something to say, and oh.
I’ll focus on the good. Life is cool. Yes, cool, boringly coll. I feel like I should be out somewhere, doing something. I feel like I should have a boyfriend, oh but I am pathetic at times. No, I will not whine about that. Or anything, I don’t need a boyfriend, I need, excitement, life. I need life, beyond the slow easy pace of summer. Maybe it’s that I feel like its my last summer officially as a kid. I should be doing something teenage, you know, fun and out, and oh, whatever.
I'm hanging here visiting relatives. I miss my buds back home. Oh well, there's fun everywhere I suppose.