Friday, November 14

Oh, Bud Light

After a long evening spent drinking Bud Light and smoking monumental amounts of weed, I have come to a decision. It's definitely time for me to take a break from drinking. I'm not by any means saying that I drink often, either.
I just don't think drinking agrees with me as well as smoking does. Smoking seems to fight the depression and Attention Deficit, but drinking only adds to both.
I have also decided that when I do drink, I enjoy doing so alone. My irritation with the human race seems to only get more intense with the consumption of alcohol.
Review your vices for a moment. There has to be one that really seems useless to you, even if you cannot seem to live without it. Well, beer it is, for me.

The next portion of this can only be dedicated to Vodka, because Vodka is the bane of my very existence. Three shots, in fifteen minutes. I was spinning like a propeller on an airplane, and actually had to make myself stop drinking because I felt so sick to my stomach. Why is it, I wonder, that a woman of my nationality and history of familial alcoholism, cannot handle such a beverage?
I believe that the answer is simple; Vodka was designed for women who don't drink often, and like to get smashed when they do. Hello, high school girls. I have come to this conclusion based on the number of young women I have witnessed pouring the filthy stuff down their throats, and then complaining about their decision making skills the next morning.
For this reason, I'll take my whiskey and coke any day. I like to be able to make decisions I don't regret, and I haven't regretted a damn thing at all, lately. So cheap drunks, I advise you. Switch to cheap whiskey. It's harsh, but mix it with some Ginger Ale, and you should be all set.

Jim Beam, anyone?
-fin

Tuesday, November 11

Oh, sex.

Okay, okay. So perhaps I'm bitter. But the sounds of vicious lovemaking coming from the bedroom adjacent to mine tell me that I'm just a normal person, who is annoyed by the amount of noise her roommates feel they need to make during sex.
Don't get me wrong. I enjoy sex as much as the next person, and most would think my adverse attitude toward what is going on in the next room is based solely on frustration.
Blah blah, single woman not getting laid. She's just mad because she's not getting any.
Nope, not the case. I am, however, irritated about the fact that I am basically shut in my room until they decide that they're done.
Oh my god.
Now they're talking about getting married.

Fuck my life, guys.
What's girl to do. They keep moving around, and I can only hope that means I can fucking piss.
It's been well over an hour.
>:[
-fin.

Monday, November 10

Another Cellphone Rant.


Get over it, Jane. You're probably never going to have your amazing Sidekick back.

I have to hand it to my parents. They know how to spoil a kid. Just this past week, my Mom and Pops handed my my brand new UX260, made by LG. Now, normally I would be very excited to receive a new cellphone, as I'm sure any self-respecting college student would. But why on Earth, would a company sell phones, that are being returned for technical problems, by the SAME customer, numerous times? You would think that this would lead to other customers, who have the same phone, to do the same. One person can not possibly receiving ALL of the faulty ones. I have returned this phone four times, since I first purchased it in August. Why, you wonder? The keyboard on the UX260 (The LG Rumor, according to Sprint) does not work more than five times, before it skips, and causes your cell phone to turn off. Wonderful. Someone give me a BlackBerry. A Razr, even! Anything to end my suffering.
No, I'm not finished.
This phone is just ugly. I will not apologize.

Friday, October 31

As a disclaimer, I am a shameless asshole, and I strongly dislike most people.
Take into consideration, mind you, that I am twenty-one year old college student. I have no place judging those in my age group.
But, there is one class of young person that I just cannot tolerate.
The "bro". The simple-minded feminized male that hangs out with 'the boys' more on a weekly basis, than I would hang out with my best friend in a year. It's sad, really. They come in large groups, and generally carry shitty characteristics such as bad pick-up lines, in their pockets.
For instance, while at a bar recently, I was assailed by a young man; approximately twenty-two, wearing a button-down shirt and khaki shorts.
Said young man did not appreciate the fact that I was not paying remote attention to him, so he attempted a new angle: the pick-up line.
Conversation went as follows:
Bro: "Have you seen any woodland creatures around here tonight?"
J: "Uhhh. Nope. Not as far as I recall."
(Seconds pass...)
J: "Why...?"
Bro: (thrusting his bulging forearms in my face,) "BECAUSE THESE ANACONDAS ARE HUNGRY!"
(Scores of laughter from his mates ensued, upon his receipt of my dumbfounded expression.)

C'mon. Ladies. Really? Do they think that by acting like common domesticated animals, they will succeed in charming today's sophisticated upper-crust women?
I doubt it.

Scumbags, beware.
We can see right through you, and we're smarter than you give us credit for.

Thursday, October 30

Dope. Dirt. Brother. Nixon. Judas. In other words, heroine.
I have never tried it. I never will.
But it is amongst my generation like a plague. I have gone no where on my travels and not heard of its use. I do in fact, have several friends that are former heroine users. There is every chance, that they are still using.
What is this black tar plague that has infected America's youth? To the government, it is under watchful eye. But the population itself? Not nearly to the degree that it should be.
Now, I am not hating on the substance itself. Just the destructive side-effects that I have seen come from its use. Ironically, I can think of no 'good' things about the drug, perhaps except, the high itself.
But is it really even enjoyable? The sources I have spoken to say so, but I am inclined to disagree.
Perhaps this is a subject I am not fit to speak on, but as an advocate for freedom as a term, I am going to share my thoughts, regardless.
In my limited experience with users, I have heard only awful horror stories of the come-down; the biting period after use that makes one feel as though he is dying a slow, painful death. But, perhaps dramatist points of view are necessary to prevent its use by others. I am not to be the one who makes that decision.
This rant deserves a disclaimer:
Every day, I am surrounded by people in my age group, who are just trying to survive, one day at a time. They are not to be judged, or thought ill of. They are people, like myself, and you who is reading this.
Never for a moment think that you are above someone suffering from addiction, or experimenting with drugs. They are human beings, just trying to survive as you are. Not every facet of life is the same, but we are all equal; human beings by design.

Monday, September 15

New Home, New Drug War: A Generation in Trouble

Ah, what can I say about Portland, Maine? I could begin with the beautiful Old Port architecture, or the nifty cobblestone-style streets. I could describe the intriguing people that hang out on the local common, playing unusual instruments and smoking cigarettes. But I feel as though this would do no justice to those that are merely trying to get by in this fair sea-side city. I feel as though I would not be paying homage to the struggle that the vacationing tourists never see.
I have spent many interesting nights in Portland. On side streets, in dark hallways and darker rooms. I have seen a nightlife that many will never understand, and though I am not always in agreement, I have never judged. It is impossible to understand why people make the decisions that they do, but why be the deciding factor in an equation that isn’t yours? I have made my choices, and I wish to not be judged by them. There is addiction. There is sexuality. There is so much reality in the youth of this place; there is so much passion that is yet undiscovered. We are a city that is full of life.
What is a mistake when you are trying to make the basics come together? What is one more trial when you’re used to battling the system? I am enlightened watching those around me. I have watched my friends feed themselves drugs and booze, just waiting for the break in monotony. It is a reality. It is an escape that some choose, and though I am not a participant, I can understand the need. I have my vices. I can admit that. This being yet another reason behind my lack of judgment. Where is the stopping point for this degradation? When will my generation be accepted as a party of knowledgeable American citizens? We have perspective, and can clearly see what the future will hold if we don’t act quickly. The American public takes how much notice of our strengths? None. Clearly, American youth, we are on our own.
But what CAN we do to fight what our government has set before us? What can we do to argue the rights that were set before us, over two hundred years ago? What will bring us from the shadows of drug abuse and alcoholism to the forefront of modernism? We can vote. We can educate ourselves on the government that will be put into place in two thousand nine. What I see when I look around me often times lessens my hope for a generation. I am sometimes disappointed in the bleak outlook that many of my peers today possess. But what can be done to encourage them? It is easier than ever for us as a symbiotic unit to act in favor of our rights, yet so many turn down those simple opportunities. We have driven ourselves to think that we are a dying age; a generation lost to war, starvation, disease, and economical struggle. The media has been of no help, and the government has not given us hope. Both facets of American culture were, unfortunately, designed to do things that are seemingly impossible at this time. This is why action is most necessary now: we as youth have been handed a diplomatic disaster, and it will be the responsibility of my age group to clean up the mess. We must take interest, before we are left to fall.
Yes, I may seem nearly militant, and I assure you that no disaster is in the making. I am merely concerned for those around me who have not been granted the chance to think for themselves. Those who are not able to stand up for what will be left to them and theirs. It is our time for action. It is time for a nation of future leaders to rise and grasp what it is being handed, before time runs out.
Think on these things.

Wednesday, July 30

Portland, Maine and the Problem of Homeless Youth

Now, for this editorial, I did an undercover operation. On and off for the last year, I've sneaked down to Maine's "real capital" and buried myself under the cover of a teenager kicked out of her home.
I will not deny that more often than not, this was truly the case. My parents and I can't get along; story of the average American teenagers life, right?
Well, it is, folks. A better portion of the teens I encountered in the harbor city are homeless by choice; leaving home simply because their parents do not approve of the lifestyle they choose.
Many are confused about their sexuality, using drugs, or consuming enormous amounts of alcohol, causing a mass falling-out between children and their parents.

Many of these same young people remain on the streets; sleeping underneath bridges, couch-surfacing, and staying in local homeless shelters. Homeless shelters that are infested with fleas and other pestilence, mind you. We are not talking the Ritz-Carlton of homeless shelters. If these kids want that, they get arrested, and live in jail.
Sad as it sounds, this is safer for some, if not most, of these youths.

I am not by any means trying to condone crime in order for these young people to sleep safe.
I am merely hoping for some combination of unconditional love and understanding, that which I doub I will see outside of my own home for some years to come.
My generations children may have more understanding parents, or it may have more concerned parents.
This remains to be seen.
Until that time comes, I will make a case for my generation: understanding, for it will save us all.

Monday, July 21

An Attempt...

this place surrounding me...
four walls, none left untouched.
i am forgotten, if for mere seconds, and become afraid.
forever will i stop short, asking myself 'what next?'
i am forging a path many
before me have merely dreamed for,
though i see no delight in my effortlessness.
stop short; ask yourself one question.
where are you?
safe?
alone?
delighted by the world?
forever searching, human design is recognized.
i will ask of nothing from you.
only solidarity, faithfulness.
you see, nothing more than that can sustain me.
i am satisfied with failure;
we are through.

forget, nothing.

Thursday, July 10

My Take On High Times

I spent the afternoon hanging out with a large group of twenty-somethings from central Maine.
If you have ever heard anything about central Maine, aside from it being located in Southeast Canada, you will know what this entailed.
After hours of conversation about the history of our nation, we smoked a few bowls and began discussing the latest article in America's premier Marijuana magazine.
As I flipped through the pages, skimming articles and hoping to gain insight as to why the magazine is so popular, it dawned clear.
Not only are pot smokers perceived as uneducated and dull, they are seen as criminals. Okay, in all fairness, I knew this was the case. I mean, come on. I've lived in central Florida, Maine, and throughout the country in the past few years. It is no secret to me that the consumption, purchase, and possession of Marijuana are illegal. But High Times opened new doors to me this evening.
Think about it.
How many different uses for light bulbs can you think of? I now know of at least ten additional uses.
How many celebrities can you think of that are currently, or were at some point, making their living off "stoner comedy"?
I now know of three additional parties.
Interesting, isn't it, how popular a topic this is. While paging through the popular editorial, I encountered all sorts of new products being added to the seasoned smokers market.
Thanks to this popular publication, I now have something to look forward to, this forthcoming school year.
Boy, let me tell you what the year two thousand eight looks like for me.

It is a complete haze. I have not yet been so excited.

Tuesday, July 8

Tribute To A Dying Trend

Internet dating.
In the past five years, this phenomenon has risen, and with a resounding crash, fallen.
Due to high rates of dangerous individuals luring innocents away from safety using this methodology, the world wide web is being abandoned yet again.

But, only by one age group, and you will never guess which it is.
My age group. Yes, those between the ages of twenty-one and twenty-six are abandoning the internet as a dating tool. As it would seem, the percentage of nightclub attendees has risen since this trend died down.
Perhaps there is rhyme to this reason.
I have noticed that though I am not the relationship type, those around me that are going out and meeting new people on a personal level, are doing it far more often than they normally would. This is a turning point for me, and for my generation.
Whatever will we do in our thirties, when the quest for young love has long-since passed its prime moment?

Thank heavens the author in me needs only cigarettes and marijuana, and not a man.
Think on it.

Friday, July 4

Metal Shows.
Ah, what can I say? I don't love them, and I don't hate them.
As I head off for a weekend of mischief and mayhem with California originals Carnifex, I should lay a disclaimer at the feet of whomever we come in contact with.
Touring life is not what everyone would call good fun.
These boys are stuck in a van for weeks at a time; tour schedule depending, sometimes months. You have to have a specific frame of mind to be able to even remotely understand that!
So, this in mind, I shall go off and embark on an adventure that could potentially be remembered for eternity in the great city of Portland.
I have sustained broken teeth, bruised ribs, concussions, sprains, and fractures as an avid metal listener. Who knew such a lifestyle could be so popular with todays angry youth?
Let's be honest. Metal is perfect for rebelling teenagers. Parents hate ruckus, so why not inflict harm on their ears in sound form?
Perfect.

Well, off I go. Time to break things. :)

Friday, June 27

YouTube.
The gateway to all things video on the internet.
I have developed a love/hate relationship with this particular search engine.
Don´t get me wrong. I love being able to search for music videos, movie clips, and mini-series episodes in less then a few minutes.
Yet, somehow, I cannot make myself pleased at the idea that anyone, and I do mean ANYONE, can access videos that ANYONE can upload, and at ANY time.
I have found myself, unfortunately, the unlucky video participant on more than one occasion.
Perhaps this is causing my bitterness.
Ah. I don´t know. Perhaps I am angry because I´ve been watching YouTube videos all day long, one can never know.

I´m cross with the internet in general these days.
Every time I turn around, there is another mindless fact site, search engine, video search engine, or networking site that would like to recruit me in some way. Whether it be page views, memberships, or email subscription, every site on the internet seems to be vying for my interest.
Will it ever stop?
It seems as though with every page view, every website figures out a new way to contact me...filling my inbox, crowding my every day life.
I simply cannot imagine what the next ten years of technology will bring.
Look at the Apple iPhone, for instance.
God. If every cell phone could double as a fully-functional mac, I would cease to leave my house long enough to let the dog out, let alone living a fulfilled life.
Who needs to, with a computer that quite literally fits in to a pocket or purse?
Chew on it.

Thursday, June 26

My cell phone.
Okay, I begged my mom for a BlackBerry for graduation.
I got the BlackBerry. (My folks have an incredibly hard time not giving me my way, for some reason. This has always been the case with them.)
Now, as some know, I've been a sidekick person for almost the entire past year. Before that, I was someone who desperately wanted a sidekick.
I've made a decision. I love my BlackBerry.
It looks, feels, and performs in a much more professional and mature fashion...if a phone can in fact, perform with maturity.
Is it possible that I've grown too old for the sidekick? Yes, I suppose so.

It is, if you'll take notice, designed for teenagers. Attractive, with flashy features such as the instant messaging feature and MySpace application, it was designed to appeal to young people, and damage the wallets of their parents.
Thankfully, I got a massive discount on my BlackBerry.
I will also admit that my BlackBerry is work every penny of the $149. my poor mother paid for it. And to think i had planned to get a new sidekick.
Silly girl. :)

What kind of human being am I...taking my poor parents for all they're worth.
Oh dear.

Friday, June 20

I find it most fascinating, that at the latest hours, my most intuitive ideas befall me.
I have spent the past fifteen hours enjoying a sort of vacation; a vacation from all familiarity, all every day purpose.
Though dear friends have been around the last few days, I still find myself feeling freed. Perhaps they were merely a different part of the peaceful equation; stead-fast in my life, yet detached in a blissful way.
I find myself miserably tired and without motivation these days...I find myself wishing only for sleep. Perhaps I am coming into my yearly depression. A sadness I fear does not let go of this unassuming heart, but molds it coldly for several weeks at a time.
I am no suicide risk, readers. Merely one soul needing the silence that seems such a hard find in this time we call youth.
I am a lonely soul, often enough. It is as though I prevent myself from partnership, prevent those around me from knowing how to reach me. I suppose every one has their safety net, and I am certainly no different, though I wish that some how, I could find myself in all of this. Some day, I will find a way to smile through the pain of youth and lonliness, but today is not that time.

How many times have you asked yourself questions such as this? How many times have you woken in the morning wondering if perhaps, life as you were raised to expect it, isn't as wonderful and full of hope as you were told. Maybe things aren't meant to be good for some people.
These questions are common, as unfortunate as this appears. I am a sufferer, though I choose to fight the silence.
Watch carefully; we are all at some level of risk.

Tuesday, June 17

In all fairness, I should probably consult my doctor before making this post. But as of an hour ago, I have my readers to think of, so I will take the risk.

Chances are, at some point in life, you have had at least one 'sleepless' night.
This is common. My condition, though, is as well.
Since I was fifteen, I have slept through the night less than one hundred times. If I get to sleep, I wake up at some unfortunate hour, usually between two and four in the morning.
But most of the time, I just cannot fall asleep in any fashion.

No wonder many high school students fall asleep in school. No wonder so many women in their early thirties find themselves tired during the day.
This affliction comes from many directions; poor diet, depression, pregnancy, illness and many other such issues.
Ask yourself these questions. What could you do differently in your daily life to reduce bad habits? In some cases, such as pregnancy, a doctor should be consulted. But in most cases, a simple lifestyle change can help!

Recently, my sleep schedule has been a complete disaster. Now, you ask why.
I do this to myself. Don't let me fool you; I love staying up all hours of the night. Daytime and I are not close companions, though I'm sure my roommates and family wish otherwise.

Evaluate your every day life.
See what you can do to change it. Perhaps a good nights sleep is in your future, after all.

Notice that this was posted at nearly two in the morning.
Forgive me; I am a terrible example.

:]

Monday, June 2

As some know, I recently spent a comfortable morning in the Waldo County Jail house in Belfast, Maine.
The reasons behind me landing there at nine o'clock on a sunny, spring morning are minimal, and do not require analysis.
My stay, however, might.
Several things are to be addressed right now.
I for one did not know that any medication an inmate "requires" would be provided for them. I also did not know that putting an illiterate person in charge of booking a incoming prisoner was wise.
Oddly, the state policeman that arrested me conversed with me as though we were having coffee, not taking a ride to jail.
The officer in charge of readying one female prisoner headed to court was terrible. Moments after he handcuffed her, I watched as she literally slid her hand out of each cuff.

Alright. I understand that it's a small, poorly-kept, local jail. But are these conditions really appropriate?
I was also mildly offended when a male prisoner commented on my appearance while being escorted to jail, and the officer booking me laughed at his comment.
A female prisoner in the cell I was detained in had food stashed under her pillow. Yes, folks. I AM serious about that. She was the same prisoner that also hid a blanket under that same pillow, for a prisoner headed to court. Why? Said prisoner was terrified that they would take her blanket away.
I am lead to question the safety of the cell I was in.
A toothbrush and toothpaste was provided to the female inmate heading for court. But the coat she was promised, (due to the fact hat she was wearing NO undergarments) was no where to be found, and the officer that had made said promise, was also M.I.A.
Am I not, as an American citizen, guaranteed safety while being detained on criminal charges?
What gives? Are they in the business of arresting and detaining criminals, or are they merely a joke in the eyes of law enforcement institutions nationwide?

I am strongly considering forwarding this article to the local newspaper.
Ah, what an investigative reporter I am.
Instant Messaging.
The bane of my existence for some ten odd years now.
In those years, I've used more than twenty user names, or 'screen names', as we've come to know them. Why? Because it's so very easy to display to the public your intellectual creativity.

This topic brings me back to my favorite; being the most original, and individualized person in the room. Alas, I have fallen victim to this time and again, and my choice in screen names falls under no different a heading.

I will admit that I do enjoy to positives to using various instant messenger services...having all of my friends available at the click of a mouse is indeed a bonus to communication. But I can't find it in my heart to appreciate the anonymity of instant messaging. In truth, unless you have access to video chatting software, you never really know who you're talking to.
Who really enjoys that aspect? Sure, when someone gives you the screen name they use, you can assume that you're going to be talking to them when you instant message the given screen name.
But is this always the case? Nope.
There are also the cases of "random IM's". I'm not a huge fan of receiving messages from people who think it's amusing to NOT TELL you who they are.
Love that.
Perhaps I'm being unfair. I suppose that in this situation, the pros outweigh the cons.
I find myself getting frustrated to no end with the Internet in general, and if you're going to read my posts, you're going to have to get used to my generalized hatred for the tool.

Haha, on to bigger and more interesting topics.
Life is an unnerving popularity contest, and I am, with pleasure, backing out gracefully.
I will admit to not always seeing the brutality that is a life in the limelight. I wasn't necessarily always so clear-sighted in this department, and I suffered for it. But with growing older, I have realized more and more just how dangerous being the coveted center of attention really is.
For instance, while living in Orlando, I was subjected to some of the most horrid forms of ridicule I have had to experience in my twenty years.
Why? Because others felt threatened by me. Now the big question arises:
WHY?!
I am one of the most friendly, helpful, and outgoing individuals I have ever met. Well, the answer is unfortunately, an easy one.
Throughout life, insecurity will come in and out, rearing its ugly head at the most inoppurtune times. Those around you may or may not have just cause to dislike you, but you will encounter many situations where that dislike is caused by the need to be the most well-liked; the most sought-after indivdual in the room. No other explanation can upset me more than this.
I have yet to figure out why those around me constantly feel the need to expose themselves to dramatic situations as often as possible.
Is it entertaining? Do they learn to love themselves because of it? I hardly imagine so. For what it's worth, this rant was one of many to come.
As Jim says it best; "Jesus, Jane. How does so much shit happen to you and yours?"

Well, love. The answer is simple. Being a unique person will always draw forth unique crowds.
I am so miserably blessed.
I suppose that it's time for me to get a long-suffering subject off my chest.
Marijuana.
Now, many of you reading this know that it's hard to find a college campus, work setting, or living situation in this day and age where Marijuana is not smoked or consumed in some fashion.
Especially in the region in which I happen to reside.
Alright, you've found me out.
I'm a fairly regular pot smoker.
But is this so bad? Upon spending time with a dear friend from Florida at length, I realized one very important thing: those who are avid users, tend to know a great deal more about the positive effects of said "drug" then those who staunchly oppose its use.
Law enforcement agencies will tell civilians every tale they can dig up relating to its "ill-effects", but for what purpose? Those who have actually experienced it in a rational setting will tell you that said "ill-effects" are rare; if ever to appear. I could sit here for days listing for you all the many positive uses...easing of pain for cancer patients, relaxation from common anxieties...I could undoubtedly go on for days.
But what good would this do? Do some research of your own. Yes, many that have tried the herb weren't so much 'impressed' with its effects; it's effects are different for all.
But look on the bright side; those of you who are happy users of said plant can now move forward with my written blessing on the subject.

-fin-
It's interesting to see what comes of receiving certification in any field of study.
Upon having a conversation with my twenty-seven year old high school Algebra teacher a few evenings past, I've decided that my decision to teach is one made in my best interest.

Now, I should explain a few minor details I tend to leave out in polite conversation amongst acquaintances. I did not graduate from high school in any sort of normal fashion.
I'm unethical to a painful fault, and those that know me, know that.
But, I have received a high school diploma, and at the endearing age of twenty, will be attending a state-sponsored university.
My views on said educational institutions could not be more skewed. I abhor the very idea of joining the masses in a university setting, yet I see no alternative way to complete of said education level.
With this road block before me, I will find myself confined to a classroom come fall; dreams of a salary in mind, and a student loan bill in hand.

What has driven the United States to push for such guidelines as we have now, when students are, by testing statistics, actually becoming more UNINTELLIGENT?
A student receiving a GED diploma is eligible for the same educational oppurtunities as a student who has actually spent four long years attending his or her local high school setting. And why? Because every portion of American existance is defined by 'equality', and to no apperant avail. Any American woman will tell you that the likelyhood of Hillary Clinton becoming president is slim. Any Black American will tell you that Obama will probably not end up in the White House. Something will prevent it.

Education brings us back to this. Integration, equal oppurtunity, and desegregation are all historical forerunners to my generation. Yet, for whatever reason, very little change has befallen us.
Alas, I fear I am not to see a great deal of change in the future, either.

Tuesday, May 20

I find this website slightly intriguing, mildly disturbing, and utterly annoying.
http://defameorlando.blogspot.com/

But, in good taste, the truth must come out, and I respect those willing to tell it as they see it.

I feel slightly impoverished to admit that I find myself reading said blog fairly often...shame on me, indeed. Now, what comes of making fun of Orlando's self-proclaimed 'famous', is in fact, amusement. But you won't find me coming forward with the secrets I learned there.
Ask if you're interested, I suppose.
I will begin by saying that I am by no means requesting judgement by those who choose to read what I have written.

I mean only to release thoughts clouding an otherwise care-free mind. Take note, if you will, of the color scheme chosen.
I am merely here to vent frustration.

:]

About Me

My photo
i am young, though every sunrise brings another aching muscle, another sore joint. i am wise, though every mistake holds consequences, and every hurt makes room for emptiness. I will one day rise; face myself, and let knowledge run rampant.