no rain.

Now, it is true that the nature of society is to create, among its citizens, an illusion of safety; but it is also absolutely true that the safety is always necessarily an illusion. Artists are here to disturb the peace.

I can write. I just don't understand what's wrong with me. I can create masterpieces in my head. I can create wonderful things in my sleep, when I dream. I cannot translate those ideas, those masterpieces, onto paper. I feel like I'm fighting a losing battle here. It feels like for every five steps forward I take, I take six back. I'm trying to blow shit up. I'm trying to make my words powerful. Writing is the one thing that I have. It's the one thing that I can do well. It's who I am. I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm allowing my writing to turn into complete pseudo-intellectual bullshit. I'm letting my beautiful sentences turn into nothing more than sharp, unending lines of profanity. This is not who I am. This is not what I write about. God, I feel so trapped sometimes. I used to write to escape it all, but now I can't even turn to my writing. I feel so fake. I feel like everyone can see right through me. I feel like I'm so close to just knowing who I'm supposed to be. I feel like I am so close to fucking reaching it, you know? I feel a breakthrough coming, but I can't make it happen. I'm trying so hard to be the girl that I want to be. I am trying so hard to write beautifully. I don't know what to do, really. Maybe I shouldn't try. Maybe I should just let things flow. Who knows. I'm going to stir some shit up though, trust me. Just wait. I'm so close to being magnificent.

planizzles.

I would really enjoy living in New York. I think it'd would open a ton of doors for me. It would allow me to meet people who think like me. People who stand for something, people who believe in something. It'd be a nice change from the fucktards living in Memphis. I'm moving there when I graduate from high school. I haven't decided on the college part yet, not really. I'm thinking SLC or NYU. I don't know. My major, damn that seems light years away. It's not though, it's three. Three short years until it's time for me to have my future planned out. I start to think of it, I really start to imagine it and I get sick. I get physically tired from just imagining college. I'm the single biggest procrastinator you will ever meet. I talk about big, important issues but I'm a chicken shit when it comes to actually making something happen. College is going to be a major challenge for me. I'm smart though. I just don't understand why I need high school. Everything I know that's worth something, I've learned on my own. I've researched philosophy on my own time. I've read up on feminism, anarchy, communism all on my own. The only useful thing school ever taught me was how to read. Still, my love of reading comes not from assigned books, but from reading crazy and controversial texts in the back of Barnes and Noble. I'm lazy, I'll be the first to admit that but I'm not lazy when it comes to doing things I love. I'm the first one in line for a new Twilight book. I spend hours reading about people who lived during the Golden Age of Rome. I'm not going to get enthused about math or diagraming sentences. I'm just not going to do that. It's not me. Unschooling is the only thing that has ever appealed to me, ever. I recently starting homeschooling and it sucks ass. I'm not trying to be crude here, but I think that's a pretty good hyperbole if I do say so myself. Anyway. it's just school at home. Wow, big change there. I'd really enjoy being unschooled, almost as much as I would enjoy moving to Manhattan. It's not going to happen. My grandparents are freakishly stuck up when it comes to innovation, new ideas, or things that differ from the norm. It's a miracle that they agreed to allow me to be homeschooled. Unschooling would be pushing it. This all brings me back to my original point, living in Manhattan would open countless doors for me. I know you're supposed to be realistic and not expect too much right away, but hey I'm a rebel. I want to move to Manhattan and make it work somehow. Even if I have to eat Ramen 7 days a week. Living the american dream is not about being financially stable, it's about following your dreams and being happy with yourself. I have opportunities. I have the ability to be great. I'm not talking about famous either, well a different sort of famous. I want to be known for being somebody. I want to be known for what I do, not who I do. Being a star, a celebrity, a socialite isn't my idea of fame. Being remarkably, immensely, immeasurably worthwhile is. I was thinking politics maybe philosophy or writing. I'm not sure, I've got three years to work out the details. Right now, I'm just trying to be content with my daydreaming.

pregnancy.

usually since I'm a very kind-hearted person, I don't laugh at other people's misfortune. however, during my short time here in earth, I've been compared to my cousin. oh what's-her-face, she's been through so much but she mananges to stay focused on her schooling. and by schooling I mean being a whore. looks like little miss perfect is pregnant. I have to say when I heard this little bit of information, I cried. I took a few minutes from my busy schedule of doing nothing to cry and rethink my position on God. I was so happy. I love life. I'm never having sex, ever. I'm going to stay a virgin forever just so I can hold it over my cousin's head. or maybe, I'll go on a diet and get super-thin. I'll lose two pounds for every 1 pound she gains while being pregnant. oh I feel powerful.

foiled again.

I hate people. You hear and read this every day. Still, I'm not going to start loving humanity so you can have some original material to read. I hate people. I hate people so much that I can't even give this entry a real ending.

schizool.

I've decided that I hate school. I mean truly. I completely and honestly do. I wish that it would implode with me in it. I think the universe has alligned just enough to completely fuck me over. I've decided that if there is a God, he/she is out to get me. Now, I am completely aware that I sound just like whiny and bratty teenager. I cannot say I care too much about that. I am aware though. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I hate it here. I hate school. I hate the choices of schools out there for me to choose from. I hate that white station sucks so hard and I hate that I lost my biology cd-rom thingy. I hate that Mr. Whitehead probably doesn't like me and I hate that Mrs. Underwood thinks I'm a idiot. I reallly truly do. I fucking hate everything, including all that is Jesa. But you know what I really hate? I hate adults. God, they're so pointless. I mean, damn. If and when I grow old, I pray to whatever God that wants to listen that I don't turn into one. I'd rather die young, or not. I'd rather not die having only experienced the hell that is High School. I'd wanna die in my thirties, that way I'm not worried with popping out a couple kids and marrying some business man, whom I really don't love. He'll offer me stability though. Isn't that what all little girls dream of? Some marginally handsome man driving up in his almost new car and offering to make enough money for the both of us so that I can stay home and raise Becky and Tom. Fucking shit. Fuck this shit. I don't want to get married and I sure as hell don't want any fucking kids. I'm selfish that fucking way. Sue me sideways for all I care. Fuck. I mean, why do people even go to college? Why in the hell do people major in accounting? Why? Can someone tell me the reasons? I want to meet the weird kid who decides that calculus is his passion. None of us are truly special. We're not going to cure cancer or fucking find a way to achieve world peace. All of us- the overachievers, the underachievers and the just barely making it's, are going to grow up bitter and resentful. It's almost completely unavoidable. The pretty girls will grow into old ugly women who just love to stare at their yearbook photos and wonder where the time went. The ugly girls will grow up into ugly women who will stare at their yearbook photos and wonder when life's going to pick up. The jocks will grow into fucking angry as hell football coaches who are married to the bitter as hell former prom queens. The nerds will more than likely grow into average people with average incomes. They'll look back and fucking wonder who the fuck made up those stories about nerds growing into rich and good-looking CEOs. We'll go from being unhappy and uncomfortable with our bodies to even more displeased as time goes on. I think it all starts in school personally. I honestly do. Think about it- where do kids, children, what the hell ever learn how to behave and interact with one another? Where do people learn to taunt and tease? Where do we all learn that no matter how hard we try, we'll never truly be good enough? Having trouble? I'll give you a hint. The word I'm looking for rhymes with yule. I hate school. I hate the people. I fucking hate the atmosphere. I wish I could quit. However, in today's society, if I were to quit I would be looked at as a massive failure. I'd rather just get through it and then deal with the emotional strain on a later date. Preferrably, I'll pick up a drinking habit later on in life. Maybe end it all. Don't get me wrong, I think life is a pretty neat concept on paper. There is complete happiness out there, and there is true contentment somewhere. In fact when you find it, call me up. I'd love to hear about your experiences. I'd love to study philosophy one day. I really have no idea why. It seems interesting. See,I like to think about why we're here, but in the end I know deep down it doesn't matter. Knowing why the world was formed what fucking brighten my day. Knowing that God's name is Jane and she lives in Montana won't help me feel less lonely. Still, I'd like to know. See, beneath everything.. I still hold on strongly to hope. I think it keeps me going. I think it gets everyone going. I think even the most devout athiests have a little hope, somwhere deep down. Hope that maybe just maybe life does have some reason to it. Hope that maybe life is a question that can be answered, rather than a huge unending train of thought. There's hope in all of us. For one, I have hope that Tuesday, when it comes time for me to return to school- that maybe just maybe that cd-rom thingy will be in my locker, undamaged. It's probably not going to happen. My logical side refuses to let me believe that crazy locker story completely. I have hope though. I truly do. That's what's going to get me to school on Tuesday- bright-eyed and cheery, smiling wide and saying some silent pray to whatever God that wants to listen. It's what's going to get me through four years of fucking hell and four more. It's going to help get through marrying Mr. Dick and popping out his kids.Through it all, I can still hope that one day, life might suck less.