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You're going to get stabbed, talking like that. Years and years, you know, and it still comes up now and again. You just won't get out of my head.

The stars wrote our story, while we plotted to destroy them. We were the rulers when we were together, but you let it all be taken away. Guess the cat's out of the bag.

Guess he was a star bright enough to capture even you.
Lesbian tears never materialize because they were never realized.
300 more photos taken today. XD

i'll update with anywhere from 50 to 100 photos later tonight.
i have 240+ more photos to put up.

but i'm feeling lazy tonight.

they'll be up this week sometime

Yeah, I know I haven't posted in a while. I've been trying to stop having migraines, and been working on these photos. But at least they're pretty. You'll all get an update of 122 photos if they upload correctly, within the next half hour.

I need to see a doctor about these headaches. They never go away.

Just lyrics.

Sep. 16th, 2006

I'm working on making my livejournal better.

I'm also working on actually doing well on an AP test for once. I really want to set the curve. I'll do it this week, Noy. :p

I pirated a bunch of new music tonight. Yay! I like my new goth and my new pop music. :p

If anyone likes pop-punk, check out the Irish band, The Chalets. Love Punch is my favorite song.

I already am accepted into schoolcraft. Yay! At least next year's all planned out.


Labatt Blue

Now, I don't drink because I'm both underage and not really interested, and I might be thinking of the wrong brand of beer.

There's a commercial out now. They cut between two scenes, them being:

Scene 1,3,5: 3 men sitting on a couch watching the game in relative silence

Scene 2,4,5: 3 women sitting on a couch talking incessently and ignoring the television and just being rather annoying.

This of course lead to the common thing of whatever being a man's brand, and that the way men were was generally more desirable.

WTF? So not only do women never drink that brand of beer, but they also only ever bicker and talk, are never calm?

D: I hate television.
All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places
Worn out faces
Bright and early for the daily races
Going no where Going no where
Their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression No expression
Hide my head I wanna drown my sorrow
No tomorrow No tomorrow
And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to take
When people run in circles it's a very very
Mad world Mad world
Children waiting for the day they feel good
Happy birthday Happy birthday
Made to feel the way that every child should
Sit and listen Sit and listen
Went to school and I was very nervous
No one knew me No one knew me
Hello teacher tell me what's my lesson
Look right through me Look right through me
And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to take
When people run in circles it's a very very Mad world
My short skirt
is not an invitation
a provocation
an indication
that I want it
or give it
or that I hook.

My short skirt
is not begging for it
it does not want you
to rip it off me
or pull it down.

My short skirt
is not a legal reason
for raping me
although it has been before
it will not hold up
in the new court.

My short skirt, believe it or not
has nothing to do with you.

My short skirt
is about discovering
the power of my lower calves
about cool autumn air traveling
up my inner thighs
about allowing everything I see
or pass or feel to live inside.

My short skirt is not proof
that I am stupid
or undecided
or a malleable little girl.

My short skirt is my defiance
I will not let you make me afraid
My short skirt is not showing off
this is who I am
before you made me cover it
or tone it down.
Get used to it.

My short skirt is happiness
I can feel myself on the ground.
I am here. I am hot.

My short skirt is a liberation
flag in the women’s army
I declare these streets, any streets
my vagina’s country.

My short skirt
is turquoise water
with swimming colored fish
a summer festival
in the starry dark
a bird calling
a train arriving in a foreign town
my short skirt is a wild spin
a full breath
a tango dip
my short skirt is

But mainly my short skirt
and everything under it
is Mine.
I'm so tired of being manic depressive.


I feel insignificant and small right now, and I'm thinking too much about the past. And I know I should get help, but I'm too young to get it myself, and no one would get it for me.


I don't even want to think about the mania I'll have tomorrow. It'll make it hard to focus on my AP work.


I took some cool photos today, but... 200 is a hefty sum to upload. I'll eventually put them up.

I mean... why can't he just stop talking to her? JUST HER! I don't mind anyone else... but she is skinny and beautiful and soft spoken and nice, and everything else that I'm not and never will be! I hate her, I hate how he dotes over her even now, I hate how irritated he gets when I point it out and I hate how sad this makes me.

I want to be a sight of perfection
but I'm nothing more than shit.

What the hell can I do?

I never talk about my problems anymore. I feel like I'm back in 7th grade. Noy gets disgusted every time I tell her I used to cut. I guess I don't get it because I did it.

I hate how my eyes feel like they could purge themselves of my toxic waters at any time. I don't want to show weakness, because it's hard to admit I have any.

I want to be perfect,
not just the sight of it.

I wish I was good at something. Not even my art makes me happy, and I can't really sing anymore. I don't know why I'm in charge of varsity choir. The VC girls should be pretty and smart. I'm definately not either of those things.

It's not even like I want myself to die.
I just want who I am right now to die.

I want plastic surgery to take my mind off the deformities I have inside.

I probably didn't do as well as I'd hoped I would on my test.

Our choir class has too many first sopranos and not enough second. Mr. Schmidt is a fucker and won't do anything about it.

I'm tired. I want to go home.

I'm being really whiny.

I drew a pretty picture today?

Photos later.
Flag football is the most frustrating game in the world. I only get the ball passed to me once in a blue moon. And then, as I was trying to take someone's flag, I slipped and fell. It didn't even hurt, but I cried out of the frustration, because I fell while I was trying to prove I was god damn valuable to my team.

Varsity choir tryouts are over. The poor guys, we really outnumber them even when all of them are put in. Oh well, they'll just have to sing loud (which Nathan will love, let me tell you).

Why did Jeanne even try out? She should know she can't sing. I mean. >_>

But aside from that, the few people we saw today were really good. I'm going to have to not let some of the freshmen and such in, because a lot of the upper classmen are really good too and have less time to be in it.

Popping caffein pills to stay up later so I can study was dumb. I dunno. I just really want 100% on that test on friday. I have to prove I can do it (and it'd be nice to set the curve).

I have an update for my bible, but I'll post it later.

Sadness! I'm not popular on this livejournal yet! Go tell your friends to add me!

I'm tired.
Nap time?
Nap time.

But I probably won't be able to sleep.
So today in world lit, I started writing my own bible. I want to put it somewhere aside from on paper (it'll be destroyed instantly) so I'll type it here! XD

Cut to avoid drama? Don't read if it'll bother you.

In the beginning...Collapse )
More to come later!
New livejournal! Woooh!

I seem to have about 10 of them. I keep telling myself I'll actually use each one I create, but I seem to change so much just after the first post that it seems so out of date that it's too much of a hassle to fix.

Hopefully this one won't be like that?

So. Today was interesting. Mr. Brater must think I'm off a bit for crying about getting a B+ on that test (but it would have been a c- if not for the curve!). I'm a bit neurotic about that. I have a 2.2 GPA and need to get my shit in gear to get go go going. I need as close to a 3.0 as possible. I need to take more math classes.

Tomorrow is Varsity Choir tryouts (oh jeez...)
People need to stop saying "I don't need to tryout, right? You love me, Andrea!" Seriously. Shut the fuck up. I don't love anyone but the three other girls in the 4 Girls group, and a few other people.

My name is Andrea Jones, and my choir teacher agrees with me when I say I'm an equal opportunity bitch.