Love is a Piano Dropped From a Four Story Window

one more night

2008-07-18T23:01:00.002-03:00

lonely summer.
i feel like i've been killing time until i get out of here.
just passing the days, waiting for the one when i wake up and know i'm free.
when i was younger i was always promised things that never were true. i will always remember the time my parents sat me and my sister down and told us we were going to disney land. i was so excited. i made a calendar and counted down the days. as time went on, the plans became less definate and more unsure. eventually they stopped talking about it, i suppose hoping we would forget about it and stop asking. that's how things have always been in my life. exciting, wonderful things promised and then never ever followed through with.
the one time i thought things weren't going to be like that, they turned on me and became a prime example and my great aunt took back her pledge of money for university.
every day brings me closer to university and every day i wake up and wonder, how many more days until things fall through and i get the news that i'm not going?
i don't know if i can take another blow.
my spirit has been so built up and broken down, i'm sick and tired of the setbacks. the promises and big dreams, they're not reality.
reality is this. this day to day waiting for something great to happen. the wasting of my time. the entire summers passing by with nothing accomplished.
i'm working very hard almost every day but i'm having such a hard time saving when theres so many things i must pay for myself and no one helps me. i feel like i live alone. i come home late from work, exhausted and dirty, and all the lights are out and the house is silent. mom is at her boyfriends, again, and liss is at her friends. she seems to live at friend's houses now. and when she isn't out, her and mom are home fighting. they fight all the time and she's always in trouble, yet she gets to do so much more than me and mom goes so out of her way to do things with her.
the only thing i wanted to do this entire summer was go see stars in halifax this weekend. i got myself so excited and made all these elaborate plans in my mind. and then no one could come with me. friends kept cancelling out left and right. now tonight, my selfish mom told me she cant drive and pick me up anymore.
so now i can't even go.
i'm just so sick of this. i want things to work out for me. i want to be happy. i know i sound selfish. i know this entry is very personal. this isn't how i write on this blog normally, this is how i would write in my diary but i can't help it.
i'm exhausted and defeated and i don't know what to do. i work so much and i get walked all over there. i get walked all over at home.
it's been a lonely lonely summer and i want it to be over.
but summer being over brings the scariest of possible dissapointments; if something happens and i can't go to university ... i honestly don't know what i will do. i need to get out of here, for the sake of my sanity.

a picture is worth three words; i miss you.

2008-02-13T22:00:00.002-04:00

each picture slides by and i'm struck by the complete and total happiness in each one. the smiles, the sincerity, the memories.

the thing about pictures is that they capture the moment and all the happiness in it, and the leave out the fights, the drama, the heartaches and the breakups. who doesn't smile and look happy for a picture? who doesn't act like they're having the time of thier lives?

i'm sitting here, going through all the pictures of the past year, and it strikes me like a horrible horrible omen. these people, these friends and boyfriends and family members, even acquaintences, they are my life. they keep me sane. they keep me stable. they keep me happy and keep me grounded in life.

it's a constant battle with my innermost self but the eventual outcome is one of utter helplessness. what can i honestly do? i feel the need to run, to escape, to clain my own identity but i cling to these moments in time, these people in my life as if they are the only things keeping me alive.

so here's to the old friends. here's to the old memories. senior year. house parties. beach tares. camping trips. dances. here's to it all. to every person i carried on a lasting battle with, (what was the point?) to every ex i held harsh feelings against, (i'm over it now) to everyone i didn't think of as a close friend, (i realize now that you are) here's to the end.

a picture is worth a thousand words, right? wrong. a picture is worth simply three; "i miss you", and those are the words that will go through your mind as you reminise. those are the words i know will be running through mine, as a year from now i am somewhere new and completely free of any emotional attachments.

i'd like to thank my...

2008-01-14T23:39:00.000-04:00

it's so hard to believe that i started this blog in grade nine, and now here i sit tonight, writing my grad write-up to go along side my photo in the yearbook. it's so hard to think of the right things to say, the right names to name, the right things to write down so you won't ever forget.

my biggest fear is that i'm travelling through time at an alarming speed and i won't slow down until it's too late.

trans-canada search

2008-01-02T12:58:00.000-04:00

i awoke this morning with the intention of checking my email with hopes of a reply from juicy couture marketing (which i indeed found :). it was afterwards that i began casually scrolling through old blog comments, which forward to my email and sort themselves into their own folder. a lot of them i never read because i knew i would see them on here at one time or another, but one caught my eye for some reason. the sender's id was nanai, the name sounded so familiar, and my heart stopped fast.

inside the email was a birthday wish for me, on my fifteenth birthday, posted on my post "more than a feeling". i had never seen this before, ever. curious, i went back to my inbox and found another comment from her also, this one from "nanai hoshi", asking why i was so sad in another of my posts. these comments are both from 2005 and there have been none since.

background information would probably assist in the matter, so here i go. i grew up moving from city to city and town to town constantly. often times i became confused as to whether my name was katelyn or "new girl" because i was called the latter so often. my childhood memories are filled with random sleepovers and lunch-time hang outs with people who either i can't remember or who i know would never in a million years remember me, their second grade friend for one year.

that's the thing that always hurts me the most probably. when everyone around me begins talking about elementary or how they've all known each other since kindergarten. i wonder if somewhere, some group of kids is reminiscing and someone goes, "oh yeah, remember katelyn was there too? remember, the little blond one? gee, i wonder whatever happened to her..." i wish that with painstaking frequency.

during elementary, i lived in a small village in the mountain region of british columbia, armstrong. it was here that i perhaps felt the most wanted and included in all of my childhood years. it was perhaps surreal, i had many friends, nice friends, there wasn't a lot of childish drama or fighting, no mean girls that picked on me, we had a beautiful house, and my family was still together and happy, and best of all, i had a best friend. her name was nanai hoshi, and i thought she was probably the nicest girl ever.

when i try to bring back old memories, certain aspects fog but i do remember some things for sure. we wrote notes back and forth every day on pink paper. i'm not sure where the pink paper came from, if it was mine or hers, but i know somewhere in one of my storage bins i still have a box with every single note inside. she put butterfly clips in her hair, i remember that much. those little sparkley ones that came in a rainbow of colors. perhaps she gave me some, i'm not sure, or perhaps i was just copying her but i think i still have some somewhere. she also did beasding, tiny little seed beads and she would weave them with fishing line into tiny bracelets or rings. i have one from her, also, in the box if i'm not mistaken. she used to make them for me and i would study them for hours, trying to figure out how she did it. when i finally figured it out and began making my own i don't even think she was mad that i copied. she was just an all around nice person and everyone liked her.

when i moved away, i remember crying. the two of us crying that is. and i remember, we continued to write notes back in forth on pink paper and mail them to each other on almost a weekly basis. getting letters from her was possibly one of the greatest things, who doesn't love getting a letter? and they were always sparkley and pretty and sometimes even with a tiny ring or bracelet inside. we continued our correspondance throughout my stay in calgary, but i think it was when i moved back to new brunswick, to a little tiny house in barnesville, and i began middle school, i think it was then that we lost touch. i remember a phone call, i was sitting on my bed and i remember calling. things may have been different on the phone, maybe it had been too long since last talking, maybe we had changed too much. maybe she had made new friends, i know i had also. but the point is, we lost touch. and perhaps i didn't think of it so much then, didn't mourn the friendship because i was preoccupied. but now looking back, the saddest part of my childhood was letting go of friends. the hardest part was knowing when it was stupid to keep holding on.

seeing these blog comments from over two years ago thus affected me so deeply. to know that someone, somewhere, still thought, whatever happened to katelyn? someone, somewhere, thought to search me online and follow links to find me. knowing that somewhere, childhood memories live on in someone else's mind other than mine gave me hope and a lift that i greatly needed.

nanai, i hope you read this. i have searched for you online and on facebook, and have spent my whole morning digging through old address books trying to find yours. thank you for finding me, and if you never check back here again, the gesture was not lost. but i hope you do and i hope we get the chance to talk and find out where our lives have taken us.

and if anyone is reading this and can think of someway to help locate her, it would be greatly appreciated.

miss lonely

2008-01-02T12:44:00.000-04:00

i've come to some conclusions. the first is, if you decide to let fate takes it's course, it will. the second is that it is completely possible to be loved and love in return and still be indecisive. the third is you can be surrounded by the most loving and caring friends in the world, and still feel completely and utterly alone.

that is what this post is about. feeling alone.

actually, i'm not even sure if it's that i feel alone anymore, i think it may be that i feel excluded from some sort of event that everyone else is partaking in.

i'm graduating this year. i'm seventeen. i have the world at my feet, or at least, i did. i feel i threw it all away somehow these past two months and i don't know how to get back on track. i know to start, i need to first ask for help but i am a selfish and secluded person who hates asking for direction.

it's all very frustrating.

yet, at the same time, i disgust myself because i think i like things this way. complete and total disarray. i create situations for myself almost, tearing myself away from people, ruining relationships and friendships, breaking my own heart by my own choices more than anyone else ever has.

so going back to conclusion number one, fate is a bitch. now, i am very scientific in my beliefs and i don't tend to buy into that whole, divine ruler with a master plan for everyone, but i do tend to think that who and what we shall become is embedded in our very bodies when we're born and we don't have much say in it. i like throwing myself into the wind with the point of view that whatever shall happen, will. however, i also know this is a rather romantic way of thinking, and fate is not always merciful. we all get caught up in aspects of life that throw our choices one way or another, and all that i'm caught up in right now is self-pity it seems. then, following self-pity, resentment. resentment of others who are making things work for themselves and seem to be in control of the situation.

i need to get out, and get away, more than anything. just run, and go, and travel, and be free. this is what i need.

but what i got was high school drama, and random relationships with boys i could care less about. i'm afraid of intensity, afraid of passion and afraid to give myself into love to find it isn't returned in it's entirety.

conclusion number two; i get very emotionally attached. i imagine myself the starring actress in a hollywood love-story and every boy i meet is a possible main man. this frame of mind makes it very difficult for me to let go, even when i have already physically moved on, i can't let go of the idea that possibly we were meant to be together. i like the idea of, 'the one'. i like to think that i found mine, but the situations and the circumstances weren't right for things to really prosper. just the whole fact that i spent this summer giving bits and pieces of my heart away to boys i now must face everyday is very depressing. and as they begin to move on and talk to new girls, i get very jealous and upset, even if i'm seeing another guy. and it's simply because i think in my mind, what if they were 'the one'? and.. well, what if they were? then what.

conclusion number three; i am a lonely girl. i'm lonely in the fact that the voice i hear the most is my own, in my head, constantly narrating the pitiful excuse for a life i've been having. and in case you haven't noticed, i'm pretty cynical. so the whole narration thing... it isn't going so well.

i honestly just am fed up with myself. it's like what i aspire for and hope for can't be expressed through this lazy, procrastinating blob that i'm living inside of. i know these things are my own fault but it's disgusting. i'm failing english for crying out loud. what is that. i doubt my teacher would guess, but i happened to be qualified as gifted in english all through middle school and was reading always 2-3 years above my grade level. i scored in the 97th percentile in the country, and now i am failing? all of my marks are terrible! what happened to wanting to be a writer?! what happened to wanting to go to university?

why am i constantly stuck on this lame excuse for a friend, my computer, meddling in other people's lives. why, even when i should be, don't i ever have a good time anymore. why do i drink so much. why do i give myself up so easily. why do i consider myself damaged goods... why do some memories hurt me so. bad. and. deeply. that. it's. like. i'm. gasping. for. breath... ?

i like to think that things are in fate's hands but i know that is my romantic thinking again. the consequences of my choices are my consequences and that's what i have to deal with now. i just need to learn how to stand up and conquer other than cower and hide.

and i need to stop listening to sad music.

i wrote this post on my anonymous blog about three months ago, and i thought it was so beautiful when i went back to read it that i wanted to share.

To be or not to be, anonymous that is.

2007-10-14T20:28:00.000-03:00

So, incase you haven't realized the whole, writing on here every day thing didn't quite work out. I think it mostly has to do with the fact that I lead a rather secretive and mysterious life and that I'd rather not have my personal thoughts shown online to some specific readers. It really upsets me though when I have people comment on this blog saying words of encouragement still or that they've really missed me, because to be honest, in the golden days, this was quite the blog. Quite the reatreat, and I did some of my best writing on here.

Now that I'm writing anonymously it comes at the price of not being able to tell certain readers my new adress for fear that they might be actual people I know. And I haven't yet found a way around that yet...

new camera

2007-07-11T14:25:00.000-03:00

So I plan on buying a new camera with my next pay. I'm thinking of this nice Casio Exilim model in pink of coure, to match my cell phone. I'm not even one for pink usually but I like having everything match so I figured it's the logical choice.

Bubblegum :)

Anyway, I decided to shop around online to check and make sure I was getting the best price. I found it at Future shop for 146$, but thats a 20$ off sale that only lasts for two more days, and I'm not getting paid until next thursday. I then decided to check out ebay.

Now I'm somewhat new to this whole ebay thing. I've never actually used it myself but I've had some friends use it and come up with some pretty cool stuff. I guess I'm just like overly cautious because I'm scared I won't end up getting what I want or maybe just being ripped off completely and them taking my money and running. But, I found it on there for 194$, brand new. I just have to pay shipping and handling which is only like 20$ so eventually I will be saving a good 50$ or so.

I'm going to ask around and ask my mom about the whole ebay thing, and then I might very well scoop it up before someone else does :)

lovely

2007-07-11T14:05:00.000-03:00

Somedays just start off so typically dull and dreary. I wake up and my entire room seems engulfed by the fog. Outside, dew clings to every blade of grass while the sky heaves it's heavy load of rain over our heads.

I hate rainy days. I hate the feeling you get when everything remains grey. It's like a heaviness, a sleepy blanket. I usually stay in bed long into the day. I don't get dressed, I don't clean up after myself, I don't do anything productive. Mostly, every rainy foggy day is a lazy day for me.

Today, the fog seems to close in around me. It clouds my mind into strange thinking and ponderings. Isn't that always the case?

It's summer. I anticipated clear blue skies and hot humid days. Sitting on the beach and watching my cares float away with the tide. This isn't how i imagined it. Nothing is it seems. Everything is always overrated and I find myself already wishing to be back in school. At least there I was doing something productive with myself day after day. I guess, things just never turn out the way you expect them to. People are never who you expect them to be.

I always leave this and end up returning. As much of a pain in the ass it is to keep up with, it just feels so natural to sit here and type away. I don't even care much if anyone reads what I have to say. Maybe it's best that way anyway. I'll just continue doing what I do and you continue how you like. Maybe now that all the hype over blogs have died down there won't be so much drama. I like that idea.

I tried the whole re-vamped thing. I designed and entire new blog and template, and honestly, I still like this the most. I like how people can go back and read past posts I have wrote. Some of them are actually worth reading.

Anyway. I can't promise anything. But I know how much I love the feeling of releasing everything onto this. That seems enough of a gaurentee that I'll be back to me.

I Met A Girl I'd Like To Know Better

2006-11-06T19:18:00.000-04:00

"Save it", I plead. "It doesn't matter what you have to say anymore."

Taken off guard, your eyes reveal a twinge of confusion mixed in with the deep green sea of guilt. You hide both quickly; you were never one to show emotion. Not to me, at least.

You're killing me, and so I push you away. There is just nothing to say. This time your cologne is chasing after me instead of you; begging forgiveness.

I used to love the way your paint-stained hands held mine. The way your lips mumbled the words before you ever got them written down. When you spoke, the world fell at your feet just to catch a fragment of a sentence. You commanded the room and the attention of everyone in it. You had everything under control and I gave up all control to you.

I was stupid and foolish enough to believe that you could ever fathom what I felt for you and feel it maybe in return. I suppose I am a stupid and foolish person altogether; I never noticed any of the signs or maybe I just pretended not to see, not to hear, not to smell, not to feel. Now that I think about it, I could probably taste her lips off yours when you kissed me goodbye. I never did pay attention to those kind of details. I never could say things quite the way you could. I was never one for art; the brush became just an object that got in my way. Yours seemed an elongated version of your arm, moving in swift, gentle gestures; sweeping over me.

It was evident to everyone I suppose; you were light years out of my grasp. Yours was a light I could never muster.

I do not have much to be proud of. I'm not beautiful. I don't excel too often. There was nothing special about me really, besides you. And even then, I was merely your shadow; travelling along on all of your adventures. My parents always tried to install some form of pride into me so that I was not easily mistreated or taken advantage of. Those ethics went out the door the day you walked in.

I wonder, maybe I can get them back now. I know I am broken, but perhaps this isn't the end of the world as it seems. I am weak, but I can gain strength. I want to be able to take control of my own situations. I want to have a light within me. Maybe not as strong as yours, but I can glow for the time being. I can work with that, and go from there.

I'd like to say I hate you for what you did to me, but I think I might actually be grateful. This strange feeling of freedom is coming over me, and I think I like it. I now realize this is how I should have felt all along.

I pause. Do I really have it in me? I think I do. I think you placed it inside of me, along with your words of regret. How can you truly regret your actions anyway? Didn't you figure you would regret them from the start? I don't have time to ask myself these questions. I make a one-eighty.

"Hey! Hey, wait!" You are way ahead of me, walking quickly, shoulders hunched against the cold. I thought maybe you hadn't heard me the first time, but you slowly turn and your face reveals recognition. It configures into a grin as I glide towards you. You think I'm changing my mind, don't you?

We're face to face and I can feel you breathing a sigh of relief. Maybe I really did mean something to you, in some sick kind of way. I suppose we don't appreciate what is ours until it's not ours anymore.

I reach around my throat and rip the locket from its resting spot. I didn't actually think it would break off so easily, you didn't pay that much for it, did you? It breaks; half of the heart falls to the ground along with the miniature picture of me and you.

"Here," I gasp. I'm still out of breath from the last minute dash. "I have no need of this anymore." I'm ending it, for good. I wonder if you realize.

Your mouth is gaping. I wish you'd close it, you look rather ridiculous. I smile and I know you know it's the last time you will see it. Then I walk away, and you know what? The cold, it doesn't bother me so much anymore. I like the cold. I am the cold. And I can feel it taking over my bones. Everything is going to be just fine.

I met a girl I'd like to know better. Thank you for the introduction.

I Met A Girl - Wheat

But You Know All The Right Things To Say

2006-10-13T16:49:00.000-03:00

My words, so small and timid, become lost in the definitions and meanings. Yours, on the other hand, so powerful and overbearing, demand attention and slowly choke the life from anything I have to say.

I hope someday you realize all the things that you've done wrong.

Too Little Too Late - Jo Jo

The Strong Scent Of Evergreen From The Passenger Seat; As You Are Driving Me Home

2006-10-12T16:33:00.000-03:00

Images were spinning through her awkward mind. Humming incoherently, she reflected.

There's a sad widow, recollecting the love of her departed husband, with a single tear welling up in her large and caring eyes. Two teenage girls, embracing and sniffling in the girl's bathroom. A solitary young woman, lying on her bed in the dark. She holds the picture of a boy and tries her best to hold her heart together at the same time.

Such love and compassion. Such emotion. Oh, how the world is a pitiful place, she thought. How people hurt sometimes. How the love of something or someone can literally break you into two.

Smiling to herself, she stepped off the city bus into the mist and serenity. The fresh smell of the evergreens. How she loved the smell of the rain. How she loved the world, with it's global warming and homeless people. How she loved days like today; so quiet and thoughtful. Such an absolute dread of a day, how wonderful.

Treading home, the thought arose. Suppose the only point of falling in love was to then fall out. The only purpose of the excitement and anticipation was to progress to the dissapointment and depression. Yes, this had to be it. And in finding the answer, she felt much ease. Hopefully, those pour souls would find the same.

When she entered her room and saw his picture looking up at her from the makeup stained pillow, she gave it a dazzling smile. "So long," she said, while tossing it into the trash. "I won't be playing russian roulette with my heart anymore."

* The title's of my posts from now on, will be lines from songs that are either inspiring my writing or stuck in my head at the moment. At the bottom of each entry, I shall make note of the artist and song name.

Passenger Seat - Death Cab For Cutie

Yesterday's; Your Ex-Lover Is Dead - Stars

And In That Moment It Started To Pour

2006-10-11T22:29:00.000-03:00

Tra-lala-la-la. Work was boring tonight. I'm pretty sure I did absolutely nothing but talk to Stephen all night and make it look like I was folding tables. I happen to be talented at that. But yeah, feet = killing me. I don't know why every morning when I am running for my bus I don't think to bring the comfortable work shoes. But I just don't, so now I have three rather large holes almost in the back of my left heel. Gross.

Feels kinda cool to be writing in this again. I understand entirely this won't be my best piece of work; I'm merely warming up. I look back on some of the old stuff, damn, it was good. (Damn, I am conceited.) So I'm hoping the little site make-over will cause me to feel the desire to blog. I'm thinking about having one post per week to catch up on what's been going on, as this one does, and then the rest will be either poetry, short story or randomness. It will be good, I promise.

Okay so yeah. I now work at Zeller's, since like July, and I've decided that each shift is like a fight to stay alive. If I can conquer the night and make it till closing, then I am a stronger person. That is seriously what it feels like though. Every night absolutely drags by, especially in fashions where I happen to be stationed. Everyone else is so slack and has right the good time, and here I am stuck in like old men's socks... for an eternity.

Of course, it has some form of compensation for this or I wouldn't still be there. Well, for one, the hours aren't too bad, (When I'm actually getting them) and I recently acquired a raise from 6.70$ to 7.00$. So yay for me. The people I work with are all pretty cool so that makes it a bit better. Oh, and I'm forgetting all the sweet people I meet! *roll eyes*. Yeah, the other night, two pervey french men came in who spoke limited English. They were looking for tight fitting faded jeans, and could only describe them in french, so they're damn lucky I'm fluent or I would have had no idea and they would have been mightily disappointed. Anyhow, I found the first french perve a rather skin-tight pair and sent him into the changing rooms to try them on. About two minutes later, the man comes out, holding the pants in his hand and wearing... none! He starts rambling in French about how they weren't tight enough (Oh, they were tight enough) and walks over to find a different pair in his faded tightie-whities. The sight alone near induced vomiting. The man was walking through jean aisles in his underwear! Like what is wrong with some people!? Luckily, he went back in to try on another pair before I had to actually say something. Jeeze.

Tomorrow is pay-day! But that doesn't really matter because my mom is making me pay her a sick amount for going over my limit on my cell phone bill. I still just love pay-day though, makes it all feel worthwhile.

School's going alright. Classes aren't too bad, for the most part they're all right slack except for English. Of course, the only times we have homework in that class anyway are when Mr Killen's not wearing crocs. When he is, he never assigns any! It's been true every single instance now, those things must be damn comfortable I tell you, though I've vowed never to try them on.

Hannah and I went lunch shopping today to Caldwell's and Manchester. I found an adorable Guess wallet that I'll be going back for, and a mat & nat bag. We also found super-cute BCBG girl shoes in our sizes with extreme high heels. Then we headed to the market, making it back to class, ouu, about three minutes late hah.

Sorry to cut this short though everyone, I'm rambling for no apparent reason, and I'd really much rather prefer to go to bed. But expect another post, as in tomorrow. Perhaps something worth reading.

Moving Day

2006-10-10T23:02:00.000-03:00

Make the move with me, I've decided to re-name the blog and give it an easier-to-remember address. I'll post the new adress for a week or so before I move it to make sure everyone copies it down. And I'll leave reminders on all my favorite sites.

It's time to bring the piano back.

Edge of Sixteen

2006-04-06T23:24:00.000-03:00

We're failing our exams
We're cuffing math class
We're cheating on tests
And expecting to pass

We're sneaking out late
We're drinking strong beer
We know childhood is short
We're beginning to fear

We're tired and hungover
We're hyper, we're high
We're convinced we're immortal
We will never die

We're backstabbing bitches
We're talking of friends
We're beginning relationships
Before other ones end

We're meeting new people
We're forgetting the past
We're ditching our friends
For romances that won't last

We're partying on beaches
We're partying on hills
We're trashing our houses
And cleaning up spills

We're falling in love
We're growing apart
We're mending each cut
In our mistreated hearts

We're burying our friends
We're mourning thier loss
We're blaming someone
Anyone; at any cost

We're silent and sombre
We're crying soft tears
We're opening feelings
And confessing deep fears

We're all friends of some sort
We're all so alike
We're all searching for something
That will somehow feel right

We all still hurt
We all still breathe
We've all still tried drinking
Drugs, maybe weed

We're on the brink of something big
We're on the edge of sixteen
We're all in it together
Waking up from a dream

Someone's Been Eating Carrots

2006-03-18T16:11:00.000-04:00

So that's what happens when you put puke-covered towels in the laundry machine. I've always wondered.
Haha! Too funny.

I Know...

2006-02-27T17:45:00.000-04:00

You want to hate me. I can see it in your eyes. You wish you could hate me so bad. But at the end of the day, it just can't happen.

You've finally realized we're too much alike.

There there, don't cry too hard.

Hmm

2006-02-06T00:01:00.000-04:00

Mom is only happy when there is the prospect of a man on the horizon. The only time she doesn't fight with me is when she is feeling like acting the part of the 'Great Mom' so as to impress future would-be's.

And yet, I seem to hate every single man she brings home. They are all trash and she can't seem to see that. Then this cycle begins when they break her heart and we must deal with terribly bitchy mom once more.

Please lord, don't let this continue the rest of my life ...

Sometimes I want to call my dad, and scream and yell at him that I am mad with him. Im so mad at him, and I don't say anything because I feel bad for him, and I think his life is bad enough at the moment without having his daughter say he is the biggest disspointment in her whole life.

But the truth is, I am mad at him. And what I want to do more than anything is tell him. Scream and yell at him and remind him that he is my father. Not some stranger to see on the streets. He's responsable for us.. and he is sitting back and being a wallflower in the midst of pure hell.

Sometimes I want to just call him and cry and beg that he could at least, for me of course, pretend to be in love with mom again so that she will be happy again and I will have my family back. And then I realize I sound like one of the dumbest, most selfish people on the face of this earth.

So then I wonder what it makes my mom when she wakes up crying for him still?

So Here I Am

2006-02-05T12:12:00.000-04:00

And There I go.

I have to admit, keeping up with this thing is a lot harder than it sounds. Much too hard to just sit down in front of the computer anymore and have all these beautiful ideas blossoming forth from my brain. None the less, I do enjoy the feeling of typing something that people will read, whether they like it or not. So, here is my post.

Today is Sunday of a rather boring week. First one of the new term, of which I have the most terrible classes ever. Work-wise they arem, but people wise I must have hit a jackpot because I have at least three good friends in every one. The question is, Can I handle the workload or not? The home report we took home on Friday may be questionable. I went down in two of my major classes, English and Math, but went up by at least 8-10% in all others. Surprisingly, History was by far my best class. Still can't quite figure that one out.

So last night I quit my job. Job? you say. Yes, I had a job. It was actually a pretty decent one too, making more than minimum wage + tips and working with people who I didn't mind too too much. The only problem seemed to be in my hours. Fridays and Saterdays, 6-11:00 or sometimes later. That left me in school monday to friday, working both my weekend nights, leaving me really only Sunday night which is a weeknight almost as well. Another reason for quitting were my new courses this term. I'm taking ones I think are going to require a hell of work and I don't want to be tied down to working on a night that I need to finish a thousand word essay or something of the like.

Also, we're moving into a house. Mom's been approved for the mortgage and all that mumbo jumbo I don't really understand. She's already started looking, and has four at the moment she really likes, two being in grand bay, one on the east side and one in millidgeville. Of the choices, I'd much rather prefer to stay in millidgeville but the chances of that are slim... So long as it is a nice house though and I have my own decently sized room, I shall be okay. We should be moved in by April at the latest.

I wrote this sort of catch-up post in hopes that if I filled everyone in on my life lately that writing more posts would be a bit easier. I'm not sure if this is a likely theory or not, I suppose we shall see.

xox

Question...

2006-01-04T22:28:00.000-04:00

Is it better to have something and lose it painfully, or to have never experienced having it at all and spend the rest of your life wondering?

Sometimes I wonder what it's all worth. The fighting and such. Why do we even bother? And why is the only advice I get to talk about it. I'm pretty sure that helps no one in situations like this.

I used to consider myself lucky. I suppose I still do to a degree, but hey, if you're reading this, do you? I know you have all these ideal concepts in your mind. They don't seem to fit the picture anymore, do they?

So instead of taking the message to heart, why don't you just fight with me some more.

And don't start with how it's my fault, cus I'm pretty sure I'm the one attempting.

But don't bother attempting yourself. Don't over exert yourself, wouldn't want to have to get off the couch now would we?

Parents! *rolls eyes.*

the update on kate

2005-11-21T17:25:00.000-04:00

*editor's note - please don't ever call me kate again, it just rhymed so i went with it...

hello all! how's it been? long time no talk, i know. seems with school and.. umm homework and ... cleaning my room and... ummmmmm ... ok, i don't have too many great excuses about why i haven't been posting lately. nor do i promise that this will be a good post. it's just that i came across my blog today, and it looked so lonely and sad! no comments, no posts in so long! it was crying to me, crying out! "write in me please katelyn! don't leave me alone again!" (-insert squeeky voice here-). so i just had to oblige.

so, you ask, what have i really been up to all this time?

well faithfull readers, i shall fill you all in...

two weeks ago were midterms, and i did surprisingly well on those! i'm passing all my classes as of now, with the following marks on my last home report;

english - 81
fi math - 84
fi ancient history - 72
hpe - 78
visual arts - 93

woohoo! seems all the work and no... play (aka - blogging) has payed off! except for the fact that there was still some play.. haha.

other than that... mostly family dumb stuff. mom has a new boyfriend, jason, who has been hanging around a lot lately.

he's quite the weird kid. but if i were to pick between him and the b-word i suppose i would pick him, but it's not much of a selection, that much is gaurenteed. it's like, with jason, he is so scared that i wont like him or something, that he is constantly trying to be this insanely happy likeable guy, even when it's completely obvious he isn't. not to mention the fact that he has three daughters, 2, 6 and 9, the middle of which stepped on my toe and called me a skank... oh yea, did i forget to mention that they're complete brats!?

and then there is xmas. which is fastly approaching. with it comes the terribly cold weather and the winter depression or whatever you would like to call it. you know what i'm taking about. that terrible sick-but-not-quite-sick-i-hate-school-and-don't-want-to-go-today-or-get-out-of-bed feeling. well, it got hold of me, for quite a bit, during my summer-to-winter transition. but after a morning home playing video games with my dad and the first bit of snow, i was fine. which is good, because i was starting to wonder!

so yes, xmas is very soon. and i need to start buying frigging christmas presents! for myself, of course :).

anyhow, this was a quick entry between homework assignments and loads of laundry. i'm hoping to start writing at least four times a week again... stay tuned!

xox

it's not that i hate you, i just forget

2005-11-08T23:08:00.000-04:00

I know I won't always remember,
But please don't let me forget
Every day we spend apart,
Softly easing tendered hearts
Burning hate like cigarettes.

And don't forget my smile,
As you sit and blanky stare
Because I can't forget the way,
Your smile seemed to say
And promise you'd be there.

Remember the time we made the dolls?
Yea, unfortunately neither do I
Pipe cleaners and looseleaf sheets,
Mix in with nostalgic heartbeats
Why don't you ever try?

I know I won't always remember,
But I don't want to wait and see
My memories; slowly fading,
Thoughts; dissintegrating
Broken hearts left out to bleed.

&

2005-11-02T23:00:00.000-04:00

The closure only comes to her at the price of many tears.

prayers for trudy

2005-10-30T18:25:00.000-04:00

"Poor soul," Dad mumbled, slamming on the breaks quickly. Outside my passenger side window, there is a woman standing on the side of the road with her thumb sticking defiantly out in the air. She is freezing, by the looks of her. Obviously been standing there a long time, clutching proudly onto her ragged purse and 4-pack of coolers.

My instant thoughts; Ew Dad, please don't let that crack whore into the car... But I held my tongue. Dad knows what it feels like, having once sold everything and hitchhiking from here to Mexico and back with nothing but his guitar. He feels for the people like this, wearing their dirty layers of clothing and freezing in the harsh weather, hoping and praying that someone driving by would actually look at them instead of looking past. Begging someone silently to pull over.

She ran over to the jeep, as if terrified we were only kidding and would soon drive away. With a smile the size of the sun, she opened the passenger door and hopped right on in.

"You kind angels! You have no idea how long I have been standing out there, Oh thank you so much! Blessed souls, you are!"

She was rambling. Drunk; it was obvious. But something about her seemed to instantly change the atmosphere of the car. Dad asked her where she was off to and she rambled a bit more before telling us she was headed to a motel on the west side.

I quickly realized this woman was going to talk the whole way. It first began by asked Melissa and I how old we were and then by saying how well our Father, Pops she called him, had brought us up. (Little did she know this was the first time we had seen him in over a month, but in her eyes she saw only a happy family.)

Then began Trudy's stories of men. "How old are you again my dear?" she asked as she leaned forward in her seat to be closer to me. Her hair was dirty, a kind of yellow-y blonde, and her face held many wrinkles, both laughlines and stresslines. She reached out a frail wrinkly hand and patted my shoulder delicately. It was obvious she was a lot younger than she appeared. You could tell it in her eyes, so blue, so bright and young and friendly. At any other time, I think I would have felt pity for her, But instead at this moment I felt like I wanted to know everything about her. Her story, shall we say.

"Fifteen," I replied, smiling largely to try and show a bit of hospitality.

"Oh my," she smiled, and shook her head. "Oh my Pops, oh my!" Then leaning back into me, she whispered, "you stay away from those men my dear. They are nothing but heartbreak. I guarantee you, I would not be in the predicament that I am in now if I had not fallen for the wrong man. You watch yourself, many men will come and go, you make sure you find the right one."

She then began talking out loud again. "I lost over a half a million dollars and my house for falling for the wrong man. He broke my heart, and left me alone in this state." It was back to rambling again then, her eyes quickly glazed over as if hit by nostalgia. "I used to be a model, you know?" she whispered, before turning to my sister. "You would never guess now though, look at me!I'm nothing more then an old bag lady, but you," -she leaned over and looked into Melissa's eyes- "you are a beauty my doll. You are young and fearless. Be careful! Don't make the same mistakes I did. Please, don't make the same mistakes I did."

We were silent for a moment before she began talking to Dad. "I really truly want to thank you for helping me out. I can't even begin-"

Dad cut her off. "Don't even worry about it, anything to help out a fellow human being." He smiled back at her and offered her a cigarette which she took kindly.

"And never start smoking!" She laughed at herself, a raspy smoker's laugh. "It shall be the death of me before the poverty, I assure you that much."

When we reached Trudy's destination, Dad pulled over and got out to open her door for her. Before leaving though, she thanked each one of us over and over again.

"Well, I am sure grateful for meeting you people today, you have no idea how much you have helped me out today, on a wickedly cold day as well! Goodbye darling," she said to Melissa. "Don't forget to be anything you want to be, never let anyone tell you that you can't do something."

She then turned to me and reached out for my hand in hers, as a sort of goodbye-shake. "It was a pleasure to meet you," she stated, with as much regalty as could be expected. "You're going to turn out to be a fine young woman, I can tell that much, you watch yourself though child, don't let the wicked ways of the world screw you over."

She laughed again her raspy cackle, and stepped out of the car. Dad went to close the door before she turned back and smiled at us both, before blowing a kiss.

"Goodbye darlings, and don't forget to pray for me. Pray for Trudy dears!"

And although I can solemnly admit, no matter how terrible it sounds that I have rarely ever prayed before, I knew Trudy would be in my prayers tonight. She was so life-like, so real and friendly that my heart ached a little as I watched her slowly walk up to the Motel doors. Why couldn't everyone help the Trudy's of the world? Doesn't everyone deserve a little support every now and then? It could just as soon be one of us standing on the side of the road, begging silently for some kind strangers.

Dad got back into the driver's seat and mumbled "poor soul," again before pulling away. I know to him that this is an ordinary day event. He meets so many people like that, it doesn't quite faze him the same way as I could tell it did to me and Liss.

So Trudy, I want to thank you. You inspired me today and put a brighter outlook on a lot of things. And tonight, you will be in my prayers.

"Where'd all the good people go

I've been changin channels

I dont see them on the tv shows

Where'd all the good people go

We got heaps and heaps of what we sow"

-Jack Johnson, Good People

i hope you see the sunset where you are and think of me

2005-09-21T17:57:00.000-03:00

"I'm going away here soon," he put in casually, as he flicked on his blinker and turned onto the quiet road.

"Oh?" Trying hard to subdue the surprise in her voice, the young girl on the passenger side turned towards him with fake mild interest.

"Yeah.. Fort MacMurray. Just for a bit, to work of course. Should be home by around Next Winter." He slowed his driving as he turned another corner. The river was starting to take shape in the impending foreground. Rays of the dying sun dashed thier way across it's delicate surface, dancing in the light and distracting her eyes from his troubled face.

"Winter as in.. around a year from now?"

He smiled unsurely. "Yeah, that Winter."

Silence draped in around them both in the proceeding moments as they crossed the final stretch before the beach area. She fumbled for words while he fumbled with the radio dials and still niether uttered a word as the jeep drove to a halt.

The picturesque beach before them was desserted. Merely bushes and sand covered it's shores.

The girl remembered back to when they used to come swimming here. She would dive in, unsure if whether she could swim back to the surface again or not, (for mere lack of swimming capabilities) simply to try and impress him. Sometimes when she emerged from the water's surface, leeches would cling to her skin and he would be forced to first laugh at her as she ran around screaming, then to remove them with a steady hand and a bic lighter.

He remembered coming here as a child with his own father. They'd carry the canoe over thier heads down to the shore, load in thier lunch and fishing poles and spend the whole afternoon in search of the best catch, sometimes long into the night as well.

He took the key out of the ignition and opened the driver's door with ease, while she sat unmoving in her seat. A quick glance in the rearview mirror told her he was unloading beach chairs and a cooler out of the trunk.

"You coming down to watch the sunset then?" He called through the opened hatchback, the first words he'd spoken in a good ten minutes.

Unbuckling her seatbelt with new-found bravery, she stumbled out of the jeep, taking a deep breath and following her father down onto the river's shore.

He plunked himself down into a chair and motioned for her to do the same. Cracking open a can of gingerale, he handed an ice cold one in her direction as well. She stumbled and flopped into the canvas collapsing chair, took the gingerale from his hand and took a long drink.

In front of them the scene played slowly. Ducks swam gently, breaking the water and leaving a trail of golden ripples behind them. Crickets sang in the bushes at her side and the wind blew a sweetly warm breeze across her face.

"So... You're leaving then?"

He stared straight ahead instead of catching her eye the way she wished he would. She wanted to see if she could gather anything from his eyes. His eyes always told it all, so much like her own. Instead, he gazed decidedly into the distance for quite some time before answering.

"You know I don't want to. It has to be done."

"But why?" She blurted out before she could stop herself. "Why do you have to go so far away to work?"

He looked thoughtful and took another drink before turning her way. "The money," he said simply.

"The money? Since when did money matter to you Dad?"

"Since I was sued by your Mother." Immediately he turned apoligetically her way and smiled weakly. "You know if I don't pay they'll send me to jail... it have to do this, i'm not really given a choice."

"I dont want you to leave though," she begged him, begging the tears to hold themselves back too. "She doesn't understand me like you do. No one does. I know we don't talk so much anymore..." -she began- "But I still need you now more then ever Dad."

He put a strong, reassuring hand onto her delicate arm. "I know. We can talk on the phone whenever you want."

"It's not the same."

"Nothing's been the same for a long time now Dear. We need to learn to adapt ourselves to the current situation. I promise you, things will be fine."

"How can you promise me that? You can't even promise me a definite time to see me anymore. How can you promise me things will be ok?"

"I can't promise you that anymore now. I know that. All I can promise is that I'll always be here."

She rolled her eyes to the water when she was sure he couldn't see. "I need you to be here too."

A thousand things ran through her head as the wind blew through her shoulder length tangled hair. Her family was already so divided... She barely felt like she had a real one anymore. How could he just pack up and leave.. How could her mother just decide that she needed his money and force him to do that? How could he leave his family like that? How could she seperate her children from thier Father?

How could they sit there and watch the sunset and drink gingerale and ignore the fact that he was being forced to move away to work harsh hours for the Army in a place as foreign to him as another country while not being able to see the children he was working to pay for and having no one there for him?

A tear fell onto her arm and awoke her from her thoughts. She tugged her other arm out from under his warm hand and wiped her eyes in one quick movement.

"I'm getting cold now.. Do you think we could go home soon?"

Her dad looked a bit hurt and confused. "But, we didn't see the sunset yet."

She turned her back to him as she folded up the beach chair and tossed her pop can into the bush. "I'm not really in a sunset mood anymore."

Driving home she thought long and hard to herself and concluded she would never be in the sunset mood again.

presenting...

2005-09-17T14:43:00.000-03:00

My new friend!

Isnt he just the cutest thing?

So this is my new pet, Wedding McFishter. He's a pretty cool guy, I have to say. He works parttime entertaining guests at Kale's dad's wedding, and this dude knows where it's at! You should see him boogy down, the sons got moves!

(Anyhow...)

Last night was the wedding. It was quite the good time! Partying it up with Amy Bruce and Kale, and of course Wedding (who I'm not quite sure is a boy or a girl yet...) But, while we were having all of our fun.. we were missing out on the grand ole Western Themed Saint Macs dance! (which I heard was quite amazing too!)

So being the great friend and entertainer he is, Wedding decided to cheer me up a bit last night...

Yeehaw!

It worked! And of course, there's always the next dance! Weddings only happen every now and then!

So, now that I was feeling better about missing it, there was only one problem!

Wedding won't eat!

I'm sure he had a ton of wedding cake last night.. so he might just still be stuffed. But no matter what I give to him; tuna, spinach, broccoli, radish, corn on the cob, he doesn't seem to want to eat it!

Mmm des bananes!

Alright, so I wasn't actually feeding the poor thing all that stuff. I was feeding him Chinese Fighting Fish food. I figured if I start him out on a good diet now.. we will have him into heavyweight wrestling in no time!

(Or pilates, eh chantal! :)
So anyhow.. I'm just spending my day here with my cool friend Wedding. You Know, chilling and such. Pretty Kickass day if you ask me eh!

*Editors Note: Please someone help me... I 'm so bored I'm making up alter egos for my pets!

an apple a day will get you an a

2005-09-10T12:27:00.000-03:00

Well, if you're a total suck up.

Today was my first day back at Saint Macs, and woaaahhh. I swear, it was like Extreme Home Makeover came in an pimped our school. Seriously, the expansion is amazing. If you haven't seen it yet, make sure to get in there!

I had the most amazing day too. I can't remember why I was even the tiniest bit nervous anymore... Once I got back there and into the school it felt as if I hadn't even left for the summer. Like summer had never even happened... Well, except for the fact that it did.

My new homeroom teacher turned out to be my last year's Music teacher, who I couldn't stand then, and still can't now. For some weird reason, this year they have him teaching English... Which makes no sense at all so I might try transferring English classes.

Second period is Math with Mme. Pelletier. (A different one then the one I had in grade seven and totally and completely hated.) She seems alright I guess. Besides the fact that she has the desks set up in the most retarded way, with a huge empty space in the middle even though the class is packed to the max and seeing as it is a Math class, she needs the boards more then the middle of the class. So it's all cramped and stuffy and annoying and makes me frustrated because no matter which way I looked I couldn't quite see the board right.

Third period is Gym/Health with Mr King, which actually turned out to be quite the cool class seeing as he's a complete riot. Also, for the Health part of the class, he said if we continued to be a good class like we'd been today and cooperative then he would simply email all of our notes to us instead of making us copy them out. Which is an amazing idea if you ask me!

After Lunch, my fourth period is Social Studies with M. Dauphinee, (Some new teacher). I don't think I got onto his good side already though... Tori and I decided we would use his holepunch to put key-chain holes into our bus passes, and he wasn't even there to ask so we didn't think it was a big deal. But then he came in and started flipping out saying how we have to ask to use his equipment and all that jazz. And then he moved us all so we sit alphabetically. (Grr!) And me and Emilee were sitting there like whispering about something and he came over to our side of the class so we instantly changed into French and I didn't think he had heard but He's like "Talk French in this class, or get out." So I suppose we'll have to see how the relationship improves with dear M. Dauphinee and moi...

Last period of the day I have Visual Arts in one of the nice new Art rooms with Miss Crawford. That's probably going to end up being my favorite class. We're going to do pottery this year because with the expansion, the Art rooms got a new Klin room and pottery wheels and all that. She seems really new and like a fresh face (She only came to STM this year.) so I'm kind of excited to see what Art turns into this year.

I'm pretty determined to get things right this year. I want to see if I can do it all. Classes, extra curriculars, social life, plus maintain good grades for the year. (<-Probably going to be the hardest part.) I think if I keep my mind focused I can do it, actually no, I know I can do it. But then again, seems I'm the one who always has trouble focusing her mind.
Anyhow.

Hope you all had just as great of a first day as I did!

x0x

once in a lifetime

2005-09-03T14:53:00.000-03:00

Black is her mask. It's her shadow and her darkness. Black's her composure in times of danger.

She doesn't wish for the rainbows or the sunny days anymore. She acts like she doesn't care about the flowers or the butterflys. She thrives off misery... Lives for the cold and the harsh Winter weather. Enjoys the sadness that hushes Earth.

Not yet three years ago, she was alive. And wild and happy and beautiful in the fact that she appreciated little things and cared about everyone. Now they whisper, in soft voices, Why does she always wear black?

To which the doves reply, Always, of course.

And she flys over the World at night, draping her long, black cloak and singing a song of sorrow only those with happiness may hear.

To which the people think aloud, How is she still so beautiful?

And the pigeons reply, Always, no doubt. For in trying to subdue herself and in trying to disappear from the light into a world of darkness and shadows, she merely covered it all in black blackness.

And even though her eyes are made of the blackest matter possible, there is a tiny hint of light to them that you may only glimpse once in a lifetime.

When you make her smile.

AHHH, a leaf!

2005-08-31T00:15:00.000-03:00

Yes, that's right. The leaves are back. With a vengeance.

That means our dear, old friend, school, has made it's comeback as well. The days are now packed with preparations and shopping and supplies and new clothes.

And you all know you're excited for it. You can't deny that you feel the slightest desire to be back in the groove of things and back with everyone in the same place.

Everyone changed so much this summer and we're all going to walk into those doors on Friday, (Or Tuesday for everyone who doesn't go to Saint Macs, and who sucks) and realize the changes. I'm nervous and happy at the same time... I'm hoping grade 10 will be as good as gr 9 but I mean you really have no idea until you're done the year.

So here's my farewell to Summer. It was probably one of the best one's I've had in a long time. One of those defining Summers, you know, when you meet a bunch of new people, do a lot of soul searching and withgo a drastic mental-makeover on the way that you look at things.

I hope this year treats you all as well as last year did.

xox

i don't care if you leave me anymore, because most times it feels like you're already gone

2005-08-25T17:50:00.000-03:00

Look into the future
Look into my eyes and tell me everything's alright
Tell me where we're going
I'm so afraid cause I don't know
What's going on with my life

But it'll be alright tonight
Will it be alright tonight?
Are we doin' alright in old L.A. tonight?

Sitting by the ocean
Mapping out my plans of action, baby, they include you
I wish you'd send a message
Maybe I'm just better off not knowing who knew

But it'll be alright tonight
I'm gonna be alright tonight
Are we doin' alright in old L.A. tonight?

Those summer nights when I look in your eyes
I'm falling to pieces, pieces out of my mind
And I'll never know why
I'm falling to pieces, pieces

Who could you imagine such a thing could happen to you?
It's gonna be alright in old L.A.

Those summer nights when I look in your eyes
I'm falling to pieces, pieces out of my mind
And I'll never know why
I'm falling to pieces, pieces

It's gonna be alright in old L.A. tonight
-Ozzy Osbourne - Old L.A. Tonight

bet you were expecting something great

2005-08-22T21:07:00.000-03:00

Well, I'm just too tired to deliver.

The trip was amazing. Nothing to complain about there. (For once) But waaay too much to type. So if you want to see pictures of all the nuts things we did, you can check them out here where I expertly organized them and made them all pretty.

You're just going to have to use your imagination about what happened. It's a lot more exciting that way.

Thanks for all the Bloggaversary comments too readers. Meant a lot to me.

happy bloggaversary!

2005-08-19T13:30:00.000-03:00

Here it is people. One full year of truly amazing blog posts. One full year of Love Is A Piano.

We laughed, we cried. We wrote nasty comments. In celebration, I ask you to leave me a nice one for the occasion :).

And for my part of the celebration, I present this special post.

Why Saint John Sucks
A Suckumentary By Katelyn Andrews and Maria Lamprea

While waiting for Saint John Idol to start the other day, we had a fabulous idea. Why not go around and take pictures with our trusty cameras of why we hate our city with a fiery passion that consumes our souls? Sounds like fun, non?

So here they are, actual proof that living in our city shoud be considered inhumain.

We have such amazing scenery, no? Don't you just want to live here, wake up every morning to the scent of seaweed and toxic waste and look out your window to see industrialism at it's best too? Cus I know I sure love it.

Our engineers must have been geniuses in their time. But no, seriously, every structure in this city is boring and everyday. Like, oh my god, a bridge... that goes over a river. (Actually, it's the reversing falls... something amazing or something like that but who really wants to see it anyways?)

There is no 'Saint John Centre', (Note, they spelt Centre in French...) There is no Saint John City. Hell, we don't even say 'downtown' because it sounds so damn ridiculous.

Our folliage is truly remarkable eh? Actually, it surprises the hell outta me that even a little flower can grow in a place that endures 8 months of winter... Go flower power!

There are two many ways to get out of Saint John, and not enough ways to make people want to stay here.

Also, if you were having a bad day, do you know how easy it would be to jump off that bridge, roll onto the tracks and get hit by a passing by train? EASY I TELL YOU!

*Cough*Cough* Can you say lung cancer? Or asthma? Whichever is easier. For real though, the ammount of pollution we distribute into the air is disgusting. Again, here's where the industrialism comes into play. No one wants to live here but everyone wants to built a new power plant or refinery or goddamned call centre here.

We have such an abundance of artistes eh? I would call this very post modern! Cus you know, everyone in Saint John is so busy being such a tough-ass g-unit that they obviously hold no regard for the police force.

We litter more then we clean or recycle.

More than half of the population is overweight. Making Saint John Canada's fattest city. And Making the numerous McDonald's a second home for most citizens.

We think we're the next Hollywood. Which I'm sorry to say, but there is no way in hell. Like, what was the point of this sign? Seriously? Half the time the lights on it are burnt out. It's the but end of a lot of jokes and do you really think the tourists appreciate the mockery even more of having picked such a terrible place to come visit?

No.

We're a tad ilitterate.. wait, illeterate... no wait, illitraeta?

We're frigging lazy. Like seriously, is the only point of a porta-potty in the middle of the bridge just to make a place to go to the bathroom betwen McDonald's binges?

This is our idea of a mountain. No joke. Forget the Rocky Moutains here. That's (^) our Rocky Mountains.

All in all, Saint John is so damn awful that we grew tired of taking pictures of what makes it suck. Actually, we took one more.

While we were resting from the pure fatigue of it all, Maria, in an act of bravery, decided that it was all just too much for her and that she would rather be hit by a train then live in Saint John a minute longer.

How would you like to live in a city that caused you to contemplate suicide like poor Maria here?
Saint John, and it's overwieght, rude, illiteryate residents need your help! If you think Saint John sucks, or would just like to tell me how much you've loved my blog over the past year, the leave a comment below!

Thank you all!

Expect a post by the middle of next week, entitled; Nova Scotia Company Family Vacation: A Horror Story, complete with real photos!

with more hate and hurt then before

2005-08-17T15:42:00.000-03:00

I hate you for what you did to me.

That's the first time I've admitted that. I knew I 'hated' you, I knew I despised you, and wished the worst upon you, but I could never find the words.

Someone told me that I keep everything in to the point of explosion. I know I do. I just want to cover up my sadness with a mask of smiles. I want people to look at me and think that I am happy and having a good time. I don't like being the type to mope or make a fuss. I think that if I go out and party or get drunk or have a good time, that my momentary happiness will be better than my overall misery.

Back to hating you...

You changed everything. You know that, right? I trusted you. I let myself trust a male, for the first time, seriously, in a long time. And you betrayed my trust... And you made me feel the fool.

And I covered the pain by acting like it didn't bother me. And I went out and met new and more exciting boys to get you out of my head. Which only lead to more problems as I've found out boys can. And now I'm back to square one, with more hate and hurt then before.

I don't think I can ever trust a guy again. I can't believe them when they tell me I mean something to them. I won't listen when they say they care about me. Or that they think there could be a relationship between us.

I know it wasn't that long ago, but it feels like forever.

I'm trying. I'm trying ok, to let it all out. This is my feeble attempt.

I can't think about you without crying. And I can't hear your name without having my breath catch in my throat.

You hurt me far worse then you can imagine. Far worse then I thought it was possible to hurt me.

And you moved on, and left my broken self lying here. And my idea of moving on is forgetting about it. That's all I know how to do. When people just walk out of my life, I try to forget about them. To tell myself that I didn't need them anyways. I've done it before...

I don't want to talk about it anymore. I don't want to talk about you. Or any other guy that I've felt something for this summer.

I tried. But I can't let go. And I can't move on. All I can do is what I'm doing. No matter how many people I hurt in the process. It's the only way I know how to rid myself of this feeling. This hate that's taken over and spread.

I'm sorry. But I hate you more now then I did a week ago, and in a weeks time, I will hate you double what I hate you now.

i'm begging you to be my escape

2005-08-10T01:23:00.000-03:00

I've given up on giving up slowly
I'm blending in so you won't even know me
Apart from this whole world that shares my fate

This one last bullet you mention
Is my one last shot at redemption
Because I know to live you must give your life away

And I've been housing all this doubt and insecurity
And I've been locked inside that house
All the while you hold the key
And I've been dying to get out
And that might be the death of me
And even though, there's no way in knowing where to go,
Promise I'm going because

I gotta get outta here
I'm stuck inside this rut that I fell into by mistake
I gotta get outta here
And I'm begging you, I'm begging you,
I'm begging you to be my escape

I'm giving up on doing this alone now
Cause I've failed and I'm ready to be shown how
He's told me the way and I'm trying to get there
And this life sentence that I'm serving
I admit that I'm every bit deserving
But the beauty of grace is that it makes life not fair

Cause I've been housing all this doubt and insecurity
And I've been locked inside that house
All the while you hold the key
And I've been dying to get out and that might be the death of me
And even though, there's no way in knowing where to go,
Promise I'm going because

I gotta get outta here
Cause I'm afraid that this complacency is something I can't shake
I gotta get outta here
And I'm begging you, I'm begging you,
I'm begging you to be my escape

I am a hostage to my own humanity
Self detained and forced to live in this mess I've made
And all I'm asking is for you to do what you can with me
But I can't ask you to give what you already gave

Cause I've been housing all this doubt and insecurity
And I've been locked inside that house
All the while you hold the key
And I've been dying to get out
And that might be the death of me
And even though, there's no way in knowing where to go,
Promise I'm going because

I've gotta get outta here
I'm stuck inside this rut that I fell into by mistake
I've gotta get outta here
And I'm begging you, I'm begging you,
I'm begging you to be my escape

I fought you for so long
I should have let you in
(Oh how we regret those things we do)
And all I was trying to do was save my own skin
But so were you
(So were you)
- Relient K - Be My Escape.

one little candle

2005-08-08T21:14:00.000-03:00

Grasping my newest John Grisham and freshly updated iPod, I head for the bathroom in search of a long hot bubbly escape.

I run the water, cooler than usual, avoiding my cuts and scrapes. I lock the door, wanting no disturbances, which in my household is a rare feat in itself.

I drown out the world, drown out my thoughts, immerse myself into somewhere else entirely. I know it only works for the moment, like alcohol or toxins, but in the moment, everything is fine and I am ok...

A knock at the door. I sigh, take off the headphones and wrap the towel around me tight.

"What do you want?" I demand into the face of my mother.

"Why did you lock the door? You never lock the door. Is everything alright? How are we supposed to get in to use the bathroom?"

"You're not."

"What's wrong? You look upset. Are you sure nothings wrong?"

"Nothings wrong."

"Well then why did you lock the door?"

"Damnit mom, I just want to be left alone for like a half an hour! Can I do that? Please! I stayed home and cleaned all damn day for you and now I have to stay home again tomorrow to babysit for you, can't I just have a half hour in the tub?"

"Stop acting so annoyed with me Katelyn, I'm being reasonable here, you're the one acting out of control."

"Of course I'm out of control! Get out and leave me alone! Half hour, that's all I'm asking! Get the hell out mom!"

I slam the door in her face.

Knock.

"What?!" I yell, yanking it open.

"Did you eat today?"

"Yes mom! I ate today! I'm fine alright! Leave me alone!"

"You don't look fine."

"I'm fine!" I yell, pushing her out. "Go the hell away, I don't want any phone calls, I don't want anyone in here, just leave me the hell alone for once!"

She turns and looks at me funny. "You're pale as a ghost and your pupils are huge."

"Mom! Frig I'm upset because no one will leave me the hell alone!"

She ignores me. "You're not telling me everything. Are you on drugs? Are you stoned?" She peers into my eyes. "You've been smoking weed, haven't you?"

"Get out!" I slam the door again, locking it and ignoring her persistent knocks entirely. "I'm not some fucking drug addict mom," I yell. "But I'm going to end up one if you don't leave me alone!"

A simple half hour of quiet. In a house of three, two, discluding me, it shouldn't be so hard. I can't take this anymore... Even when I am alone there is no quiet, there is no rest from the constant rush of thought.

Why do things work out this way? Why, no matter how much I 'ponder' do things seem to make sense? Although, what am I expecting? Some sort of newsflash while soaking in the tub? The answer to all my problems to be spelled out in the soap duds?

A single candle lights my room as I sit here, alone. The flame is so peaceful, so solitary, so strong and sure of itself, wavering only for a moment before righting itself again.

I wish I were a flame. A bit more bright. A bit more radiant. A bit stronger and a bit more sure of myself.

My mom was right. I'm not telling her everything. I'm not telling anyone everything.

I'm concealing it all to myself like my solitary candle, burning for my eyes only in the dark of the shadow.

i love it when it rains because then no one can tell that you're crying

2005-08-02T16:50:00.000-03:00

Here's my r.i.p. to the part of me that cared.

well, here we say sneaker: a memoir on my wild night

2005-08-02T13:11:00.000-03:00

So, my first night of work turned out quite interesting. After working straight from 2:00-11:30, cleaning, clearing tables, serving food, and working my little hiney off, Chantal had the bright idea to hit on this guy who was attending the banquet we were hosting. (By the way, the banquet was for the Canadian National Archery Something-Something.)

"Merci! Bon soir!" we called as diners left the gym, fattened up from the steak and lobster buffet.

"Hey buddy!" Chantal hissed over at the guy. "Hey you, come here! Where you from?"

"Uh, Saskatchewan." He mumbled. Aww, he looked shy!

"Oh ya cool. Hey, do you have msn?"

"What?"

"M.S.N., Do you have it?"

"Uh ya..."

"Well want to give it to me?"

"Sure. Let me just write it down..."

He did, and as he walked away all I said was, "I can't believe you did that Chantal! You're nuts!"

Later, while in the kitchens, two of the other waitresses came running in looking for us.

"Hey, blonde guy wants you! He's out there!"

"What?! What did he say?!"

"He said, 'go find those girls who wanted my msn."

We made up some excuse to not have to help out anymore, then went flying out the large kitchen doors.

"Be cool," I whispered, "Act cool."

We strolled casually into the gym where he still was.

"Hey," he called over to us, walking up. "What are you girls doing tonight?"

"Working..." We both said.

"Well, take down this number and give us a call if you want to come drinking tonight with me and some of my buddies back at the university where we're staying." he said, pointing the the number scrawled out on his forearm.
I tried to convince Chantal, but she didn't think it was a good idea. So we agreed on calling the boys later on that night and seeing how long they were staying in town.

Chantal did, and they asked us to hang out Monday night.

So around 6:30 last night I walked down to Chantal's and we primped and dolled ourselves up for quite a while.

"Dad," Chantal called. "Will you drive us to the McDonald's in Millidgeville? We're going to hang out with some friends."

"Mom," I said into the phone. "Me and Chantal are going to the late show tonight, so I'll be home around 12:00."

"Hey," I said into the payphone about 20 minutes later. "Can we have a cab come to the Millidgeville McDonald's, heading to the University? Thanks."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"That's him!" Chantal yelled, hopping out of the cab. I quickly paid the driver and jumped out after her.

We followed Blondy (Brock) into the university and to the living room area close to his room. We were supposed to wait there for the other guy (Nolan) to show up, but he ended up taking for-ever. So we just sat around having random conversation, then Chantal ended up getting Brock to show us him dorm room, which was absolutely packed full of archery stuff, like bows and arrows and whatnot.

Brock demonstrates...

"Ew, what's that?" Chantal asked, pointing to a bottle of brownish colored water on the sink.

"Water, from your harbor. It smells pretty bad, wanna whiff?" He offered, holding it out to us. It did actually smell reaaalllyyy bad. I declined.

"Aww, You kept this?" Chantal asked again, picking up the lobster fork from the banquet dinner.

"Ya, souvenir."

"Well, we need to give you something to remember us by then!" I said.

"Here, sign this." He handed me his hat.

We both signed it, quite nicely, underneath, then we all decided to walk over and get the other guy because he still hadn't shown.

I paused for a moment while we were walking down the hall and Chantal and Brock kept walking. I turned the corner to follow them and came face to face with frigging make-out 2005!

"Jesus!" I yelled, scaring them both. "You guys just met!"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

We got to the other guy's room and demanded that he got up and came out with us. Well, first we raided his fridge for popsicles, pizza and fruitopia.

Nolan and me.

"So, what are you kids doing tonight?" Asked some random guy, I had no clue who he was.

"Trying to find a way uptown!" I said, "Do you like, want to drive us there?"

"Sil-te-plait!" Chantal begged in French. (We'd soon found out that our French was quite astounding to these Saskatchewan folks.)

"I guess so, I have to go into town anyways."

"You're my new best friend," I yelled, almost hugging him.

Pat, my new best friend.

We all piled into the rental car, Nolan calling shotgun, and drove like frigging wild nuts out of the University parking lot.

"Wow, you drive like a fucking freak!" I yelled. Chantal nodded beside me. "I'm putting on my seat belt!"

"This is how we do in Saskatchewan eh!"

We got dropped off at the harbor Passage and walked from there to the board walk.

Then we:

-Went down to the dock-thingy and made funny movies in French.

-Had our group picture taken.

Me, Nolan, Chantal and Brock.

-Chantal and Brock got back to getting it on.

Muah, Mauh!

-Brock and Nolan insisted that we take their picture by the moose.

G-G-G-G-units!! (From Saskatchewan!)

-We then went on a search for a place to go pee. This brought us down around Saint John high and a random tour led by me and Chantal, until we came to the Opera Bistro. Fate had it that the girl working there also worked at the banquet with me and Chantal and let Brock use the bathroom.

The Opera Bistro was quite nice.

After that a lot of randomness ensued. We walked from uptown to the cathedral, (Which Nolan and Brock thought was pretty damn cool.) Then we walked over the sky-pass thing and showed them the North End. Chantal and Brock made out a bit more and then they decided to ride around in shopping carts.

My favorite Moment of The Night:

Chantal: Aww, don't walk in the grass Brock, your sneakers will get wet.

Brock: Sneakers?!

Chantal: Sneakers! The things on your feet!

Brock and Nolan: (while hysterically laughing.) You mean shoes?!

Me: No, shoes are like the category, sneakers are what you guys are wearing.

Brock: In Saskatchewan, we say shoes. But now we're going to say sneakers haha!

I also learned that "I'm going to beak ya for that." Means: "I'm going to make fun of you!"

All in all, it was a pretty nuts night. That's what I love about ya Chantal! You make me do stupid stuff haha, and your mom said I was supposed to be making sure you were good tonight!

Oh Well, I know you had fun...

Lots and Lots of fun.

What I Spent My Morning Doing.

2005-07-27T12:59:00.000-03:00

before

after

i'm such a slob.

Heaven's Not A Place That You Go When You Die, It's That Moment In Life When You Actually Feel Alive

2005-07-21T17:27:00.000-03:00

So live for the moment.

And take this advice live by every word. Love's completely real so forget everything that you have heard.

You're only young once. You can only ever have one chance at making those important decisions. You can only give childhood a shot one time 'round.

So live for the moment.

We spend our weekdays waiting for the weekends. We spend our school-months waiting for summer. We spend our childhood years waiting for adulthood and we spend old-age waiting for death.

It's an unfair cycle isn't it? It almost seems a waste of time... Why try at anything? Why attempt to make friends, to do well in school?

You're only young once. Why waste it patiently awaiting the arrival of grown-up status? Why waste a precious moment of the life that will be too-soon robbed from you?

You can say what you want about me. And I know that you do. But in the end, one is measured by their accomplishments, and what you've thought of me along the way won't accumulate to much anything. If I waste my time, treading lightly so as not to upset others, I am merely wasting time. And opportunities.

These are supposed to be the best years of our lives. Why must we make it all so complicated? Why not simply act on what you feel, not what others would say?

All of you, get up today, go out and do something you've wanted to do. Something that you would regret not having been able to do on your dying bed. Life's full of opportunities and chances. Life's full of mistakes and regrets. Life's full of spilt second decisions.

Heaven's not a place that you go when you die, it's that moment in life when you actually feel alive.

Kiss that someone you've always thought was amazing. Tell someone how you truly see them. Break a rule. Stay out past curfew. Sneak out in the middle of the night. Smile more. Let your hair down. Sing at the top of your lungs out the window in your bikini, but please, don't waste any time in doing so.

Body Piercing, Boy Blunders and Blog-Block, Isn't Summer Fun?

2005-07-20T11:48:00.000-03:00

"I have to have my barbells changed at Pitbull today, want to come with me?"

"Sure. I have to go uptown to bring back my iPod anyways."

"I think I might get my tragus pierced..."

"Really? Maybe I'll get my nose done..."

And that's how I ended up in the chair, being pierced through the nose at the hands of some guy with red-colored contacts. It really was just as spur-of-the-moment as that.

Note the red around my nostril. This picture was taken like minutes afterwards.

Chantal's funky tragus piercing. (The one on her inner ear.)

And yes, if you're wondering, I did cry.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Well, I must say, it's has been quite interesting this summer... I've been meeting a lot of new people and enjoying myself a far deal more then usual. But with meeting new people comes meeting new people that should simply be stayed away from.

And all I have to say is that finding the bad ones is a lot easier then finding the good ones lately.

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Of course, if you haven't yet noticed, I've also been quite the absent blogger lately dispite my first promises of having a lot more time on my hands this summer. It hasn't been of lack of trying, not at all. I can't even think of how many times I've sat down in front of my computer lately and thought long and hard of how to put all the thoughts into words. For once, it just couldn't come to me.

I think that there are just some things to post about, and some to just not. And that's just how I'm going to put it for now.

But don't worry, I'll be back and kicking in about a week. I still have two more 'family' vacations to document before this summer's over!

Never Now, Never Again

2005-07-17T11:38:00.000-03:00

I've never met someone who makes me feel so insecure
never met someone who makes me feel so worthless
so uninteresting
so last-week.

I've never met someone who can say things like you can

never met someone so slick with their lies
so powerful
so intimidating.

And I'm not even sure if it's you that I'm scared of anymore
or if maybe it's the possibilities you bring into the picture.
We have nothing in common, yet
there is a common factor somewhere I can't see.
We have nothing to talk about, yet talk long hours into the night.

I've never met someone who rids me of emotion
who makes me happy and furious at the same time.

I've never had such an awkward silence like the one I find in you
and in the silence, there are my words not-spoken if nothing else.

Special Edition - In Which The Worst Camping Trip Ever Ends Up... Not So Bad?

2005-07-06T11:29:00.000-03:00

(Click the links for pictures.)

7:00. I am awake. Not by choice, I assure you. The most delightful noise ever in the mornings, I would have to say, is my mother's lovely bitching tone as she complains about the weather. Very loudly. While slamming doors.

We are going camping. Destination - Hickville. It's a zoo out there. I'm warning you now. Cows running rampid on the loose, children riding horses bareback. The scent alone is enough to throw one over the edge. I shall have to go prepared.

After dousing myself in bugspray and sunscreen, layering my clothes sufficiently and packing my iPod, discman, digital camera, cellphone and gameboy, I think I am ready for this.

Maybe.

Just maybe.

7:35. I go outside. Mom and The B-Word are preparing the car. We have packed enough food to feed a small army and most of a third world country. We have packed enough blankets and pillows to cover the prairies. My mother also likes to go prepared as well.

8:21. We are on the road. It is too early in the first place for my nocturnal brain to be awake, so I dose in the back seat. The small city of Saint John slips away outside my window as I drown out Lissa singing The Song That Never Ends, and The B-Word and Mom arguing about turn-offs.

9:30. We arrive somewhere with a McDonalds. The B-Word and Liss go inside to order our monstrous breakfast while Mom steps outside to take a smoke. I don't know why she constantly does this. She makes such a big deal about quitting and saving the money to put towards better things, then in a month she is back on the smoking wagon again, bitching at me whenever I point out how hypocritical she is.

Anyhow, my breakfast is smiling at me.

11:30. We arrive in a small town outside the Moncton limits. There are cows for cripe's sake. Cows! In people's yards! And barns!

12:14. We have taken a wrong turn. We are NOT on the road to Miramichi. We are NOT on the road to Saint John. We are on the road to Fredericton, which happens to be in the complete opposite direction! Go Figure!

We must pull over on the highway and somehow maneuver ourselves into a 180 turn! The B-Word seems to think it is Mom's fault, and Mom is blaming it all on The B-Word, so I'm just going to turn my discman back on and tune them all out.

1:13. Somehow, beyond all knowledge, we end up on the dirt road leading us to the house where we will be staying. That's right, we're staying at someone's house. Why then, do you ask, did we pack so much EFFING FOOD?! Because, my parent's idea of 'roughing it' is camping out in someone's backyard and using their bbq to cook dinner on.

Anyhow.

We Have arrived. I can tell it will be a blast from the minute I lay my eyes on their choice of transportation. And their 'residence', which is by the way, over 200 years old, built brick-by-brick by some of New Brunswick's first settlers. (Like we care!)

Mom steps out of the car for another cancer-stick while I explore my surroundings. There is like a plain that sort of just ends abruptly into beach area in their backyard. It's pretty in an Anne-Of-Green-Gables sort of way I suppose.

People start coming out of the house. There is a mom, (Don't remember her name.) a new baby, (Austin, I think...) a dad, (Grant.) a girl my age, (Natasha.) a four-year-old, (Bailey.) and a ten year old son. (Don't remember.)

They look hostile. I think I will go for a walk on the beach...

2:00. I did not know the beach was made of clay. But it is a bit too late now, eh?

I am covered, and when I say covered, I don't mean no skimpiness, I mean I have never been so filthy before in my life. It is somehow on my face. It is somehow on my skirt. It is somehow in my hair! And I am pissed.

I have to walk all the way back to the ancient house and ask for help to get cleaned up. Little did I know, half the neighborhood has arrived by now. (It was the Father's birthday, huge celebration, food and fireworks, yada yada yada...)

I find The B-Word, and he says for me to stand out in the yard and he will spray me down with the hose. I can't even describe the humiliation. There were like ten kids my age there, all staring and gawking at me. That's not even the worst part. THIS is the worst part. That is the container that is holding the water for the hose. It is from the ditch, and it gets pumped up the hill and through the hose to be sprayed all over me. I can just imagine the mass-production of mosquitoes happening in there.

After I am sprayed down, humiliated, drenched, ridiculed, I must go back to the car, get a change of clothes, and make myself look presentable. I don't care if this is 'the country' and people wear over-alls and plumber-pants, I am going to look good and clean the whole damn time!

2:10. Well, so much for that. While I was back in the car, putting my 'soiled' clothes into a shopping bag, there was a monstrous crash of lightning from behind me. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, the damn dog jumps into the car yelping and going on, completely SHOWERING me in mud and water, rolling all over my clothes and scratching at me like a frigging wild animal. I scream, and fight him off. A brief wrestling match ensues, and the final result is me, dirty again.

And that's not even the worse part. The worst part was having to walk back into that house again to go change my clothes and having to go right by the little 'posse' of teenagers who are smirking at me and giggling behind my back. "Get a loud of Paris Hilton," murmurs one of the minorly attractive male-pigs.

How. Dare. They. Dirty frigging hillbillies!!!!

By now, I have had it. My clothes are all dirty! I brought a lot, I know, but it hasn't even been two hours and I'm done to my last change of clothes. I am pissed, and I let The B-Word have an earfull. He deserves it though, this trip was his idea and now my new nikes are slathered in mud sauce!

3:00. I think he may have taken pity on me. Perhaps it was the tears... Hmm...

Either way, we are going to 'town' to buy me new shoes. Workboots are not my thing, but The B-Word insists that there is a Payless Shoes, so we will see.

'Downtown' Miramichi is pretty effing pathetic. There is a movie theatre... But even still, Studio5 ?? Who has ever heard of something like that?!

3:30. We're at some sort of water park. Who knows, who cares?! It's not the f'ing country anymore, and there are actual people there too.

We go to a small strip-mall and I pick out some new shoes. (Pink ballet flats, wahoo!) While I do this, The B-Word is next door in some shop and Mom and Liss are in Zeller's looking for a gift for the new baby.

When I come out of the shoe store, I realize that the 'store-next-door" is People's Jewelers. I give The B-Word a dirty look.

"What are you doing in there? Btter not be buying any more jewelry unless you're buying for me, you know mom doesn't want anymore... Remember what happened last time?"

(He bought mom like 500$ diamond earrings and she told him to take them back and put the money on the house. Mom is not a materialistic person, and his whole 'shower-her-with-gifts' thing is pissing me off.)

"I'm just looking..."

8:00. After a not-so bad day in 'town', we drive back out to the house where we are staying at. There are even more people there now then before, if that's even possible, and a small 'jam session' has started in the kitchen. The snobby country kids are in the 'den' watching movies. I hope the roof falls in on them.

8:30. The B-Word is bbq'ing our dinner on the porch. I go out to see if my hotdogs are ready, when I see THIS monstrosity on my mother's finger!!!!!! That little lying bastard went into People's and bought her a 'promise ring'. If it was an engagement ring, I would have barfed right there, but I surpressed the urge.

I shot him a dirty look and walked away. Mom followed after me to the car, (my new adopted headquarters...) and tried to brush it off as if it were nothing.

"Want to go driving?"

"Why would I want to go driving? What are we gonna do? Drive around and counts cows?!"

"No, I thought maybe you would like to drive."

Sweet mother of god, the day has come!

9:00. After a blissful hour of cruising around the dirt roads, (alright, more like lead-footing it. Mom almost killed me for that one!) we come back to the 'house-barn'. The party is reaaallly kicking now.

I am fed up. Just because I can't walk without falling or get bit by a bug without crying or go outside without sunscreen, does NOT make me Paris Hilton, or snobby, or a 'city girl'. For cripe's sake people, I'm from Saint John!

Screw them all! Screw their parties and fireworks and hay! I'm going to my car and sitting there blasting music!

I recline the chair, turn up the iPod, start text-messaging people while wrapped in blankets and then I hear it. A loud tap from the passenger window. I jump like eight feet before pulling off the headphones and rolling down the window. It is minorly attractive pig, who just got a bit better looking...

"Hey Paris, why don't you turn off the gadgets and come watch the fireworks with us?"

"Really?" I untangle myself from the blankets and stumble out the door.

"Yea, they're like the best part."

We get almost down to the beach where everyone is standing when I remember my camera! I tear back up the hill and come running back. They can kiss my ass, I'm here to document everything.

10:10. The fireworks were actually not that bad. There was this right cool one at the end that hissed and looked like a snake. When everyone turned to go back inside, Natasha and her friend asked if I wanted to go to the den to watch movies with them all.

They weren't exactly like my friends, but they were nice just the same. And still just as funny and hyper when they got going. We watched 10 Things I Hate About You and Dickie Roberts, or whatever the hell it's called.

About halfway through the first movie, I scream and jump up into the air.

"What is it?!" Now-Averagely cute guy asks.

"Spider, spider spider, Oh my go-oo-ooooddd! Kill it Kill it Kill it!!!" (I'm still not quite sure how I managed the picture through all the hysterics... )

12:30. The movies are done, and everyone is off to bed. We are camping outside on their front lawn in the four man tent, and the bugs are out to bug me.

After an eternity of moving around and trying to get comfortable, I finally manage to find an un-lumpy part of the mattress and settle down for a good night's sleep. That IS until I heard this...

"SNORE." (Or however you would spell the 'snore' sound...)

Then....

"Mmmm.... Noo0oooo0oo... I don't want to go on the boat...." (My idiot sleep-talking sister.)

I jump up, "Shut the hell up!"

1:00. They have not shut up. I am dying, literally dying here. Why can't they just sleep like normal people! Now The B-Word is started to make purring noises while Liss keeps grinding her teeth. I'm going to be grinding her head into the pillow any minute now!

"Kate, are you awake?" The B-Word asks into the darkness. Uh, obviously dipshit!

"Yea..."

"I just wanted to say thanks for making today really great."

"Your welcome, now shut up and let me sleep, because that would be reaaaalllly great!"

I'm a bitch.

11:00. We are packing up the car to go home. I am covered in bug bites, horse fly bites, dog bites, frig you name it and I'm covered in it. It has been a very long night.

We sat goodbye to everyone. Natasha says I have to come back next summer and she'll break me into the 'country' more. She's a nice kid, a bit naive for me, but nice I suppose. I agree, but only because I fear if I don't I won't be able to leave...

I sleep most of the way home before deciding to milk it for all it's worth.

"Mom, I don't feel good, I think I got too much sun. Can we stop and get some ice cream? Or a popsicle? I really want a Koolaid popsicle."

4:00. We are coming into Saint John. I can admit, it wasn't all bad. I got to drive a car and got new shoes and met a kinda cute country boy and ate some good food. It wasn't that bad, but that doesn't mean I'd do it again.

Miramichi, No. Saint John, Yes.

I know it's small and stinky, but I appreciate it more now I guess.

And I was so glad as we drove into the little 'town' that I lived there and not frigging Hickville!

(For all photos, visit my album.)

Once Bitten, Twice Shy

2005-06-30T17:01:00.000-03:00

When I was younger, around 4 years old, my mom and dad started the trusted 'no-smoking' routine, branding into my brain that smoking was bad and would kill me if I ever tried it. Every time they lit up a cigarette, they would look over to me and again say how bad smoking was while inhaling deeply like it was the very air they lived on.

I think it was hard to understand this type of teaching. If you're supposed to practice what you preach then telling me not to ever try smoking while lighting one up yourself is not the way to go.

I came to my own decision over the years that to know if smoking was truly bad or not, I would have to try it for myself. I would have to light one up, just like my parents, inhale and suck in the smoke, then blow it all out to understand why smoking was so truly terrible in the first place.

When I did try it, one day down at the 'falls' with Jess, we came to the conclusion that smoking made you sick and your tongue taste like pennies. Of course, I would never share this information with my mom, so as not to let on that she had been right all along. It was like my own realization that what she had been telling me was for my own good.

The same thing occurred when my dad told me not to touch the stove because I would burn my hand. He would repeatedly tell me this every time he turned on the stove, telling me again when he was finished cooking, and warn me again if I even took so much as one step towards it. I guess I grew tired of his constant warnings, and decided that it couldn't be that bad, because I distinctly remember placing my whole hand onto the burner and screaming out in pain. What ensued was a blistering burn and a lengthy lecture from my dad about how parents were always right.

And the same thing happened again on my fourth birthday. After the huge mess of a surprise party that my parents had tried in vain to throw me, we had gone for a walk in the nature park to ease mom's nerves, who was eight months pregnant witht my sister. As I raced down the gravel path towards the playground, my parents cried warnings of "go slow" and "stop running", but I paid no attention. Before I knew it, I was flat on my face screaming my little heart out because a huge chunk of my knee was now not where it was supposed to be. Mom had to carry me all the way back to the car while dad ran ahead to see if there was any bandages in the office. I think the whole next 6 months was filled with now continuous warnings of not to run because, "Remember what happened last time you did that!"

Actually, now that I think about it, the same thing has been happening on a regular basis my whole life... It happened when my babysitter told me not to kick that log because there was a bees nest in it. It happened when my Uncle told me that DD7 was a stain remover, not a toothpaste, but I just had to try it out before I would believe him. (That was a bit hard to explain to poison control...)

It seems like all my life people constantly try to warn me against things for my own good, but I have the hardest time actually listening to them. I have to try things on my own before I can reach that conclusion. I suppose it's hard for me to comprehend that people might possibly know more about something then me. There are times when I seriously think I know everything.

And even though I do know this; my tendency to not listen nor co-operate, I continue doing so. (I think it has to do with the fact that I'm a Taurus, a stubborn bull. Well, that's what I like to blame it on.)

I'm warning you now people, don't even attempt to try and warn me about things. I am stubborn. I am a know-it-all, and I can be a freaking bitch when I have my mind set to doing something.

No matter how much I seem to be warned about not doing something, or not trying something, I know in the back of my head I will anyways. Because I need to come to my own conclusions and realizations in life. Because I need to figure things out for myself. And although I always end up in some sticky situations, I suppose maybe it's better to be once bitten and twice shy then never knowing at all and always being a bit curious in the back of your head...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Anyhow.

Enough rambling on for today.

I leave tomorrow at 8:00 for a long weekend of camping in northern New Brunswick. Gonna be a blast eh? (And I say that with the most possible hint of sarcasm.) Three days of 'roughing it' in a four-man tent with my mom, my sister and my mom's fucking boyfriend, who alone needs a six-man. And my iPod only has a 12 hour life battery.

I'm going to die.

But if anything, I will accomplish quite a bit of writing. I'm packing a notebook and plenty of funky pens, so I will try my hardest to deliver some a-quality material, if not a+.

Anyhow. I'm out. I tried my hardest to write that meager attempt up there.^ Don't criticize it too harshly, as you know, it's been a while...

Cool

2005-06-27T17:42:00.000-03:00

It's hard to remember how it felt before
Now I found the love of my life
Passes things, get more comfortable
Everything is going right

And after all the obstacles
It's good to see you now with someone else
And it's such a miracle that you and me are still good friends
After all that we've been through
I know we're cool
I know we're cool

We used to think it was impossible
Now you call me by my new last name
Memories seem like so long ago
Time always kills the pain

Remember Harbor Boulevard
The dreaming days where the mess was made
Look how all the kids have grown, oh
We have changed but we're still the same

After all that we've been through
I know we're cool
I know we're cool
Yeah, I know we're cool

And I'll be happy for you
If you can be happy for me
Circles and triangles
And now we're hanging out with your new girlfriend
So far from where we've been
I know we're cool
- Gwen Stefani - Cool.

If You Can Hold On, If You Can Hold On, Hold On.

2005-06-22T13:15:00.000-03:00

The kleenex can't wipe away my tears anymore. You reach a point where you stop, look at yourself, and ask why you keep putting yourself into these types of messes. You reach a point when it feels like you can't go on knowing what you know.

You reach a point when you give up hope because no one else hopes or dreams for the same things as you anymore.

You reach a point where it feels like you've given up. Then you stop, look at yourself, and realize you have.

It's so easy to give up and give in, it's holding on that takes the strength. It feels like you're hanging, by one finger, on the monkey bars, and if you let go you'll fall into a pool of alligators. You must hold on, yet your finger is slowly slipping, slowly turning blue, slowly becoming exhausted. You cry out for someone to help you, someone to grab onto your hand and pull you up into safety, but it seems they are immune to your tears. If anything, they only seem to smirk more as they attempt to ignore you.

My finger is losing hope, as am I. It seems so easy to give in, I must fight the urge. I know I am stronger then this, I know there is a fire inside. I know there is strength in my poor little finger, it just hasn't shown it yet.

I can hold on, I won't give up. I have determination and stamina. I have willpower and more then anything, I have hope.

Gone, Going. Gone, Everything's Gone, Give A Damn.

2005-06-15T15:12:00.000-03:00

Well, the school year is over, and I have never been happier about anything. I mean, don't get me wrong, I had a blast this year. I met new people (both good and bad) and I truly enjoyed my first year of high school. But I really think that all year long all anyone is really looking forward to is summer.

I've started a new project where I'm going to be writing a short story during my spare time this summer. You can also find the link above the tagboard I think on the right hand side.

And... If things work out as planned, maybe this blog won't be the only place you'll be seeing my writing from now on... But I'm not going to say anything further so as not to jinx it!

Wish me luck on my endeavors anyhow.

And the best of luck to all of you this summer in whatever you do! I'll have a lot more time on my hands now, so expect more posts, haha. I was starting to get quite lazy there eh?

Everyone's Changing And I Don't Feel The Same

2005-06-12T12:48:00.000-03:00

"Did anyone call for me?" I ask as I turn to lock the door behind myself. I ask the same question every time I come home. It's like a routine. Come in, take off shoes, say hi and ask if anyone's called, then go to my room.

Routine is assuring. It is constantly there, always the same, and comforting in the fact that you follow it. Things are always reassuring when they stay monotonous. Sometimes it may get bland, but it is familiar. You become so used to things the way that they are, no matter how hectic or dull or confusing, and then it all changes one day and your world falls to pieces.

Sometimes it's hard not to make the assumption that all good things never end. But in truth, they do end, and they always end, and it's always difficult no matter how hard we try to get back to routine.

I was sitting here writing this earlier when all of a sudden I heard a faint popping noise and then I was surrounded by complete darkness. My orange paper lantern had burnt out. I use it every night as light to read or watch t.v. by, but never once, since I bought it last Christmas, had I really thought of it burning out. I sat there for a second before hopping out of bed and over to my desk. I removed the bulb from my other lamp and screwed it into place in my lantern. I flicked the switch and light returned to the room, but it was a duller light, it was faint and eerie and downright depressing. It cast shadows across my room and made it difficult to see. I did not attempt to find another bulb though, I almost enjoyed the dreariness; it seemed to reflect what I've been feeling the past while. I've been seeing things in a new light for a while now, and it's rather sad.

Things are not always happy little get-to-gethers at the park or movie nights at a friend's. There won't always be the group sleeps or the 'crew' or the nights just lying on the trampoline watching the stars. People are not always trustworthy or kind. Some prey on your innocence, others are only happy when you're miserable. All good things must come to an end. And it's harsh. And it's terrifying. And it's lonely. And it's unfair.

Sometimes it feels like it's you vs. everyone and sometimes it feels like everyone's changing.

I look in the mirror, and I don't recognize who I see. I don't like the person I see. I question, where are her morals? Where is her spirit? Why can't she stand up for herself and for what she believes in? Why has she changed so much?

Everything's falling to pieces. Everyone's showing a side I never thought possible. People I never liked I now question how I managed without them and people who I thought I could never manage without I now find myself questioning why without them it hurts so bad...

Maybe it's just a part of growing up, but I was never that keen on doing so in the first place. I thought I had everything planned out and accounted for, but I guess something came along and ruined the familiar and routine.

The only thing that seems to be the same anymore is the answer I get when I ask, "Did anyone call for me"

"No, no one."

Or the feeling I get in my stomach, wishing the answer would be the thing changing instead.

Cocoon

2005-06-06T17:50:00.000-03:00

Based on your smile,
I'm betting all of this might be over soon.
But you're bound to win,
Because if I'm betting against you, I think I'd rather lose.
But this is all that I have,

So please, take what's left of this heart, and use
Please use only what you really need.
You know I only have so little, so please
Mend your broken heart and leave.

I know it's not your style,
And I can tell by the way that you move, it's real, real soon.
But I'm on your side, and I don't want to be your regret,
I'd rather be your cocoon.
But this is all that you have,

So please, let me take whats left of your heart, and I will use
I swear I'll use only what I need.
I know you only have so little, so please
Let me mend my broken heart and leave.

You said this was all you have,
And it's all I need.
But blah blah blah,
Because it fell apart.
I guess it's all you knew,
And all I had.
But now we have
Only confused hearts.
I guess all we have
Is really all we need.
So please,

Let's take these broken hearts, and use
Let's use only what we really need.
You know we only have so little. So please,
Take these broken hearts and leave.
- Jack Johnson - Cocoon.

Karma

2005-05-29T10:24:00.000-03:00

What goes around, comes around. What goes up, must come down.*

Hmm, Karma. A word I've heard many times.

Karma - n. one's destiny as determined by one's conduct. (Webster's Pocket Dictionary.)

I've never actually given Karma any thought. It seems a silly notion to me, whatever you do will always come back around to you. But then again, upon closer examination, it seems almost believable.

I know people will not always get what they deserve for treating other people badly. Karma seems to tell us that everything has a consequence, more or less; to treat people the way you'd like to be treated. And isn't that the Golden Rule?

I think I may try this Karma thing for a while. See if what comes around goes around.

Maybe I have to make it go around by myself....

Karma - Alicia Keys

Thursday Morning Rant

2005-05-26T08:21:00.000-03:00

I hate my science teacher.

That's really the only way to put it. I can't even stand looking at his stupid shell-shocked expression every damned morning. He is the biggest idiot I have ever met in my entire human being. How he got his teaching degree beats the hell outta me. I bet he just got hired off the streets during a teaching shortage, seeing how we're short-staffed as this is Canada.

Anyways, it's 8:23, and I was due to walk out the door exactly one minute ago to catch the 8:30 North End bus. But I'm not going to. Why, Do you ask? BECAUSE HE'S AN IDIOT!!! And my Mom's damn tired of hearing about him too. She says that the whole class as a group should go to the Principle to bring it to thier attention, but secretly I think that he and The Devil (M. Bedard.) are screw-buddies. I mean, good lord, how many times has he sent us all to the office just for talking like two words in english!? Mon dieu! Pas l'Anglais! Ca c'est dégoutant! Notre Langue premier? Ah, le terreur! AARRRRGGGG!!!

I mean, everything he teaches us, he contradicts not even seconds later. And everytime anyone asks a question, he only answers it with another.

Yesterday we came up with the plan to kidnap him and hold him hostage until our demands, a new science teacher, were met. And in the meantime, we could tie him up and beat him with leather belts while jumping on the trampoline, so that everytime we jumped, he'd come flying up in the air, and then we could hit him again! :>

I have a very strange imagination.

I think his main problems are :

a) He thinks just because he plays guitar at some bar for extra cash that that qualifies him to teach us gr. ten science.
b) He's afraid Gregor could take over and teach the class with flying colors, win an award, and have us all pass with high honors, while still being a funnier and smarter teacher.
c) He's afraid that we don't respect him. Everytime I get in trouble for anything, he hauls my ass out into the hall and gives me some damn lecture about how I'm supposed to show him respect or some sort of nonsense like that.

This is how one of our conversations actually went: (It really was in English too, because he 'can't talk French when he's mad.')
M. Fag: Katelyn, what step are you on for talking English already?
Lil Angel: I'm on step three, but it's not fair, because I've been on that step since November and I think I'm making an improvement!
M. F: No, that is not so. I've been watching you the whole class, bcause I knew I heard English coming from your side of the class, and it was you, talking it the whole period!
Lil A: Me?! You must be mistaken :>!
M. F: No, I was not, Like I said, I watched you the whole period.
Lil A: Well, Mr Fag, maybe if you tried harder to teach the class instead ofspending all the period watching me, I'd be so interested with the lesson that I wouldn't be talking English, or even talking at all for that matter!
M. F: You're not respectful enough to your teachers! Don't you cut that attitude with me! You're to respect me!
Lil A: Hey, if you want the respect of your students, you have to give them the same and treat us as people instead of the 'things' you are paid to teach.
M. F: Leave Katelyn, I think you've been rude enough for today.

Gee! I told him eh? Here's another:

Me, Jessy and Tori have been standing at the back of the classroom before first period even has started laughing our asses off over a prom dress add that states that the dress is a size 18... :> still makes me smile. The three of us are laughing and talking about how we should call, wear it to prom, and then during dinner, lift up the skirts and let out all of these little children to eat all the food, (All in English, mind you.) When M. Fag comes over and goes:

M. Fag: Katelyn, you're talking English, get out.
Lil Angel: No!
M. F: Get out!
Lil A: I wasn't the only one talking! Do you think I'm some sort of psycho who just talks to myself all damned day? No! You're a big bully to me and you pick on me, and you know it! I'm not leaving till you send the other ones out too.
M. F: Jessy, Tori, come out too. We're all going to visit The Devil.
Lil A, Tori and Jessy: NOOO!
After he brought us up through these stairs into the office, and The Devil coulnd't see us, he brought us back to class and acted like nothing had happened, but I was secretly hatching a plan. I was an angel the whole class! I asked questions and sat up straight and took notes and did what I was told with a happy smile! (For once!)

After class I went up to him and said:
Lil Angel: I'd like to apoligise for my actions this morning. I guess I forgot what was more important, my social life, or good grades.
M. Fag: That's very mature of you, but you still have to go see The Devil.
Lil A: (Tear rolls down cheek) Please! Please not The Devil! He scares me! Please! I promise it won't happen again!
M. F: (clearly uncomfortable...) Ahhhh.... Don't cry?
Lil A: Please, don't blame Jessy or Tori, they were only following my bad example. I guess I just wanted everyone to think that I was cool, so I tried to act all bad as a show.
M. F: (still uncomfortable...) Ahhh... it's ok? (places a pervy hand on my shoulder...)
Lil A: Uhhh... (takes a step back in goodtime.) It won't happen again M. Fag, I swear!
M. F: Ok, But this is your last chance! Warn the others! Last chance!
Lil A: Yup, I got you. Last chance, warn others, you're a faggot, I've got you!

I know how to work him like a charm. Few fake tears there, sad smile here. I'm a pro at this teacher-manipulating thing.

So, I suppose If we can't get a new one, we can just try our hardest to make this one go crazy! Although I still like the idea of the belts :)

Well, it's nine o'clock now, I should most likely get ready to go to school soon. Those miserable suckers are starting science now! Hahahahaha Muahahahahaha!

.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.

2005-05-25T21:03:00.000-03:00

♥.I looked away Then I look back at you.♥
♥.You try to say The things that you can't undo.♥
♥.If I had my way I'd never get over you.♥
♥.Todays the day I pray that we make it through.♥
♥.Make it through the fall Make it through it all.♥

[♥.Chorus:♥]
♥.And I don't wanna fall to pieces.♥
♥.I just want to sit and stare at you.♥
♥.I don't want to talk about it.♥
♥.And I don't want a conversation.♥
♥.I just want to cry in front of you.♥
♥.I don't want to talk about it.♥
♥.Cuz I'm in love with you.♥

♥.You're the only one I'd be with till the end.♥
♥.When I come undone You bring me back again.♥
♥.Back under the stars Back into your arms.♥

[♥.Chorus.♥]

♥.Wanna know who you are.♥
♥.Wanna know where to start.♥
♥.I wanna know what this means.♥
♥.Wanna know how you feel.♥
♥.Wanna know what is real.♥
♥.I wanna know everything, everything.♥

[♥.Chorus.♥]

♥.I'm in love with you.♥
♥.Cuz i'm in love with you.♥
♥.I'm in love with you.♥
♥.I'm in love with you.♥
-Avril Lavigne - Fall to Pieces

Who ever said I was only aloud to write sad posts? I know I said it myself somewhere back there that no one really wants to read about love and happiness and whatnot, but, if you're reading this blog because you know me, then you know I'm in love and that I'm happy, and that this song has been going through my head for the past week!

Tonight was a good night. I did nothing but work on memorizing the Raven for english. Doing good so far, I guess...

And now, I'm just sitting online, listening to this song, and talking to Maria, and my blog just looked a little empty. It's been a while since an actual post, I don't think Alice counts since it was a school assignment. Bet y'all are just dying for a post, well, I'm working on it is all I have to say.

♥- me.

Because As Long As We Can Love

2005-05-25T18:03:00.000-03:00

We can do anything.

Alice

2005-05-19T16:23:00.000-03:00

Alice was always the girl no one noticed. Her medium length mousy-brown hair, her muddy-hued eyes, her petite features made it only easier to remain unseen and unknown.

Since as far back as she could remember, she was never picked for teams, never asked to be partners for projects, never spent the night at someone's house, never had a phone call to the house for her. She grew up sheltered, ignorant to the fact that kids her age were not always kind. She watched from a far, worshipping the very ground the 'cool kids' walked on.

Alice had never had it easy. As a small child, she had escaped a near-death experience that had unfortunately taken the life of her caring and nurturing mother. When they buried the casket, Alice buried a small piece of herself too, unknowingly, never to return.

As she reached her teenage years, things began to rapidly go downhill. When her father had remarried, her stepmother had brought along three new sisters with her.

Alice felt the difference between them. It was impossible not to. They were perfect. Indescribable beings like which no one had ever seen. Triplets, their only difference being the length of their corn silk blond hair. In another time, Alice thought, they would be placed on pedestals and worshipped as goddesses. Their only fault would have had to be that they were unkind and evil to her beyond all measure.

Her step-sisters arrived in the summer, the school year started in the fall. Driving to the front doors of her new school on the first day, Alice felt a sudden terror. High school would be so much different than Middle school. She could start over, at least attempt to be seen, at least attempt to be recognized or be noticed, but as the triplets stepped out of the car, their hair perfected with many hours of work, their skirts just a little too short, and their shirts cut a little too low, Alice knew that while living in the shadow of impossible beauty, she would never be able to emerge.

It was two months into High School and things were life-as-usual for Alice. If anything, it was even harder to be noticed in High School. There were so many people, who was going to look twice at the little girl with brown hair and freckles? In every class she took was a new group of people, and not one of them yet had spoken more than two words to her, not one of them yet had asked to be her partner, not one of them yet had asked her to spend the night.

It was during that second month that Alice met Wonder. While sitting in Social Studies, side-by-side, Wonder turned to Alice and introduced herself. It was the first time anyone had made an actual effort to get to know her, the first time it seemed to Alice that anyone had really attempted.

Wonder was the plainest plain-Jane Alice had ever met. There really, truly was nothing spectacular about her. Yet, she was not the kind you would look past and not see, she was the kind you felt the energy radiating from. Wonder had the most amazing way of seeing things. She had a spirit like no other. Alice quickly learned that although you may be simple and plain on the outside, you could be fantastic and remarkable on the inside. Every day, Wonder showed her a bit more of her hidden beauty, and before long, the two became inseparable.

Alice, always being the one without friends, was so grateful for one that she appreciated every phone call, every note passed to her in class, every "hello" in the halls, and Wonder, being the girl who everyone was friends with, but no one was ever best friends with, had just as much appreciation for their growing friendship. As Wonder began to introduce Alice to new people, their group of friends increased. Before long, it wasn't only Alice and Wonder, it was a whole group of girls who once weren't recognized for their true beauty.

As Alice quickly acquired more and more friends, she also quickly realized that with the good, there always came bad. Not everyone was always kind to her, not everyone always wanted to become friends. She tried her hardest not to be deceived, not to be mislead, not to be hurt.

Her step-sisters grew increasingly jealous. There was nothing great about Alice, they thought, so why is she getting all the attention? Somehow, they knew they had to put that brat in her place.

By the end of the year, Alice was no longer someone you looked past in the halls. Yes, she still looked the same, but she had radically changed in the way of her personality and outlook on things. The most important life lesson that she had learned was to appreciate everyone for their unique heart and soul. She learned that while not everyone may be model-perfect, they were all important and special none-the-less. People liked Alice for the way that she treated them. Fair and kind to everyone, Alice loved the way people had began to treat her, like an actual human being.

It was a week into the summer when Alice and Wonder were invited to their first beach party. It was to be in celebration of the end of the school year, and the date was set for only three days away. Alice's father disapproved immediately, saying that she was far too young to be off on a beach at night unsupervised, but her mind was already decided. She would go to that party, and she would be on time, and she would look good. For once, Alice knew what she wanted, and she knew nothing would stop her. Something clicked in her, suddenly, she blamed her father for her never having any friends.

"You're always trying to hold me back!" she yelled. "You're ruining my life!"

The triplets heard the commotion from upstairs. A party? They had never heard word of one. It would either have to be held by low-lives beneath them, or, for some odd reason, they had been intentionally uninvited. The thought of the later infuriated them. They quickly transformed from perfect goddesses to girls with no limits. Who did Alice, the good-for-nothing-freak, think she was? They owned that high school! They were the life of every party!

After Alice had gone to her room, crying, to call Wonder, the triplets slinkily made their way down the stairs. "Why not let Alice go to the party?" they asked, working their charm. "You know she'd never do anything against rules. She's always been a good girl."

Their soothing voices put their Step-Father into a state of confusion. "But... there, there won't be any super... supervision..." He managed to mumble. "She might... wrong crowd."

"Well," said the oldest. "What if we went too to watch over her? You know we're very responsible. We wouldn't let her out of our site for a moment! You can trust us..."

Alice called Wonder back in a state of pure ecstasy. "For some reason, my dad just came into my room saying that I could go to the party, but only because the triplets has volunteered to 'chaperone'. I think he was drunk, but it doesn't really matter as long as I can go, right?"

When she hung up the phone, she looked around in amazement. Maybe, just maybe, she had misjudged her step-sisters. Maybe, just maybe, they did care about her.

The night of the party came and Alice, for once, spent the day in front of the mirror preparing. She brushed and curled and applied lipstick in several shades. She'd never used make-up before, but her fingers just sort of told her what to do. She observed, shakily, her new and 'transformed' self. She looked so different, so mature, so... important. But most of all, thought Alice, she looked the part.

Bounding down the stairs, two at a time, Alice arrived in the kitchen with a thud. "Why aren't you ready to go?" She asked curiously to the triplets, who stood there, looking suspicious, in normal clothes and dress.

"Oh, we're ready to go alright." said the youngest. "We've just been waiting for you." Smiling to the two others, she took a step towards the door. "Shall we go?"

Instead of asking their father for a drive, the triplets insisted on walking to the beach, even though it was a good twenty minute walk. Alice protested at first; she had promised to meet Wonder there in five minutes, and now she would be late. But when the triplets threatened to not go at all, she readily agreed.

After walking without any conversation, in the slightly breezy summer air, Alice began to wonder where exactly they were going. "Are you sure you know where this beach is?" She asked.

"We aren't going to the beach." said the oldest. "And neither are you."

"But... But then I'll miss the party..." Alice grew confused, her made-up face began to frown.

"Exactly." said the youngest. "We didn't get invitations; we're not going, so neither are you."

Alice stared again, in a state of pure perplexion. If they weren't going to the party, then where were they going?

"Listen Alice. You knew we never liked you from the beginning. Waltzing around the school like you're the queen bee? Think you're all that, eh?"

While the middle triplet spoke, the oldest grabbed Alice's hands from behind. "You were never all that. Understand?" She slipped a gloved hand over Alice's mouth.

Suddenly, Alice felt so small, so terrified and helpless. The triplets were at least twice the size of her, and there were three of them. Suddenly, she was very afraid.

"Don't even think about making a sound." one whispered from behind her. "I mean it Alice, it's for your own good."

They walked with her between them, off the side of the deserted road, into the thick bush on the side. She could barely move her legs, let alone her arms to escape, but in her muddy-hued eyes, fear was shown like never before.

After pushing her through the woods for some time, they came to a small, secluded beach. The triplet took her hand off Alice's mouth and turned her around to face them.

"Listen," Alice whispered. "If this is because of the party..."

"This isn't about the party!" The oldest shouted. "Don't you get it? This is about you thinking you're better than us!"

She raised a hand high above Alice's frightened face and brought it down with extreme force. "You'll never be better than us," she hissed, striking her again.

Alice cried out, but no one could hear. The youngest took her sweater and tied it around her mouth. The middle triplet grabbed her arms behind her again, in order to allow better aim for the eldest.

Again and again they hit her, until her lips bled and her eyes streamed tears in pain. Gashes from their rings streaked her face, like stripes on a zebra.

She could not yell, but in her eyes, you could see the words as clear as ink. Why?

When they were finished beating her, the oldest took a stone from the ground and hit her over the head. Alice's eyes slid back, her feet became like air, she slipped and tumbled to the ground, where she formed a trail of blood.

"Put her in the river." the youngest said, and they dragged her body through the rocks and twigs to the water's edge. The oldest leaned into Alice's unconscious face, so close it looked like she might kiss her, then pulled back and spit in her eyes before pushing the limp body into the icy waters, face down.

They watched a while, watched as she floated downstream, then turned, and ran back through the bushes where they had entered from.

"How was the party?" asked their father, as they came into the house panting not an hour later. "Where's Alice?"

"Oh dad!" the youngest cried. "There were so many people! We just lost her in the crowd. We spent the whole night looking for her, but couldn't find her anywhere. The girls that drove us home said they saw her down the river with a bunch of druggies. I think she might be in trouble."

And as their dad went flying out the door, not one felt a pang of guilt for their actions. They all truly believed that she had been dealt exactly what she deserved in the first place.

Author's Note: This was initially wrote as an English project that I had to present today. The topic being to write a short story or poem on a topic that you thought would evoke emotion in the audiance. This is what I came up with. If you liked it, leave a comment rating it from 1-5 so I know if the teacher gives me a good enough mark or not.

Out With The Old, In With The New

2005-05-10T18:07:00.000-03:00

We are getting rid of my dad.

Slowly, but surely, we are removing every piece of furniture, every photo, every odd possesion of his.

Slowly, but surely, Blair is moving in.

Blair bothered me a lot at first, but that this bothers me more. This, this, ‘parting with dad’ thing we’re subconsiously doing. It’s like, all things have an end, but all the things that i had linked a sentimental value with are slowly dissapearing.

The couches that mom and dad bought together. I know there was only one left because dad took the big one when he moved out, but i remember going to pick out those couches and dad woulnd’t have anything flowery... the day the movers brought them liss and me were right excited because we were so young and we’d build forts and houses out of them, using the cushions as walls, using blankets as the ceilings.

Well, they’re gone now. We now have a nice new set, with big comfy seats and nice upholstery, but i can’t help but wonder what happened to the old ones, the ones that mom and dad picked out together.

All the kitchen silverware, plates and soon to be furniture. Mom went out just recently and bought everything brand new, throwing out all of the old dishes. I actually had to dig in the garbage for dad's mug. The new ones are nice, all blue and color-coordinated, but the old ones had character and a story behind them! The old ones were a mix of our family, the chips in them and the scratches and that place on the kitchen table where me and liss carved our names in. (Man, was mom mad about that!)

Mom’s bedroom furniture. Just yesterday, mom had a brand new dresser, side table and headboard delivered. And the old dresser and headboard she had shared with dad? Out, into the trash. This shouldn’t even bother me because it wasn’t my furniture, but i can’t help the fact that i become attached to everything.

We have a new car now too. Mom is out finalizing insurance on it right now. I don’t even remember the last time we really had a car, but that doesn’t mean it’s a good thing. It’s another link she’s forming with blair, he’s had a say in all of these things. And slowly, but surely, his thoughts and possesions are moving into the places where dad’s were.

Slowly, but surely, he’s trying to become a part of the family.

And slowly, but surely, it’s taking such a toll.

It's A Long Long Getaway

2005-05-06T18:05:00.000-03:00

I'm Homesick Today. After all this time, I wonder to myself if it's still normal. But, there's just those times, you know?

It's a long long getaway, it's a long long getaway. Make it home again, make it home again.

The Dreaded Blank Page

2005-05-04T17:42:00.000-03:00

I start out with a new blank page every time I write on this. But only sometimes, by the grace of god, I actually know what to write on it. Many of times, I have started to write something and deleted it, merely because I didn’t think it was good enough. And then there were the times when I was determined to write something (like right now) so I just resorted to rambling on the whole time. (like now.)

I start out with a blank day every time I wake up in the morning. But only sometimes, by the grace of god, I actually know what to do in it. Many of times, I put my mind to doing something and then don’t, merely because I didn’t think it was worthwhile. And then there are those times when I was determined to do something (like right now) so I just resorted to writting on my blog. (like now.)

I never said my life was interesting, but it’s mine.

Actually, come to think about it, all you readers who don’t really know me, really don’t know that much about me. I’ve considered writing one of those All About Me! posts, but nah. I’d rather let you piece together the pieces of the puzzle all by yourself. It’s more fun that way.

Sunday is Mother’s Day and I’m not quite sure what to get my Mom yet. I have some ideas, there’s this new store in Market Square where they make flower bouqets out of candy. Maybe I’ll get her one of those, even though that’s like the cheesiest gift ever. (I never said I had any great ideas!) Blair’s taking me shopping, (Blaire, n.- That guy that my mom is dating and could potentially marry. Known to me and Jessy as Peter because he bears a strong resemblance to Peter off the Family Guy. He tries to buy my affections, and may just suceed in doing so if he continues buying me gifts like my iPod.)

I’m applying for a job at American Eagle next week. Shouldn’t be too bad if I get that. I think that’s a place I wouldn’t really mind working at, and the worker’s discounts aren’t too shabby either.

So, I’m just rambling. Don’t feel the need to comment. I’m just in one of those moods where I had to write, so... I did.

A Checkup For The Soul

2005-05-03T16:01:00.000-03:00

Touch the roof, taste the floor.
Breathe
Ever so deep, for one moment please.
Live
Ever so short, for one moment please.
Say AH and divulge all your secrets to me.

Its says right here, you were once deep in love.
True?
Love so strong, so powerful.
True?
Thought he was the only one for you.
But you weren’t his only, true?

And it says over here, that he took your soul.
True?
Killed it all, buried it deep in a hole.
True?
You never chanced loving again, and yet,
All along you knew he wasn’t the one for you, true?

This says you come from a broken home.
True?
Only ever wished of having a home of your own.
True?
But he killed that too, he killed your dream.
Took it along with him and his queen, true?

All I can say is we don’t have the cure.
It’s true.
I’m glad you came in, but there’s nothing I can do.
It’s true.
We’ll bandage it up, good, hard and strong.
We’ll pray for the best, that it carries you along.

But broken hearts never really mend,
I should have told you that from the start.
As long as he’s gone, you’ll never be well,
Because he’ll always hold a peice of your heart.
True?

More Than A Feeling

2005-05-01T14:15:00.000-03:00

The soft buzzing awakes her from her sleep.
vibrations,
humming.
It is the call that she awaited.
the voice,
loving.

The conversation,
too short for meaning.
The inspiration,
enough to cause screaming.

She will not forget
all that
they've done for her.
And she will not forget
the feeling
so new and unsure.

It's not just a feeling anymore.
It's better than it was before.
It's more than a feeling.

Miss Me?

2005-04-30T11:14:00.000-03:00

It takes me a while to realize how much I really need something in my life. During these past few weeks, I've been thinking a lot about everything in general. (Being grounded seems to have that effect on me.) And oh, you have no idea how much I've truly missed writing on this. I also thought a lot about what I write on this blog, and from now on, I'm going to try and make it a bit more interesting. I mean, people are linking to me for a reason, they like what I write, and I like what I write, but it can only be so interesting when all I'm writing is fictional.

So, I thought a lot about the things that I do need to get by in life, other then like air and water and food and whatnot. And this is what I came up with;

I need writing. Whether it be blogging or simply on my typewriter or a spare piece of looseleaf, I need it. It's keeps me grounded if you catch my drift.

I need my friends. For the first week of extreme grounding, I just felt so left out from the main stream of things. To tell you the truth, I was also a bit afraid that they would become so accustomed to me not being around that they would learn to deal without me. (Oh, the horror!) So last Friday, when I was aloud out and to go to the movies, it was like a little piece of heaven. And then, the next night, when I lied and went out again, was even better! I just need to laugh, and love, and feel like a normal teenager.

I need to keep myself on track. I hate to say it, but while being grounded, my marks consistency improved. I actually brought both of my fails up to passes. Not great passes mind you, but passes none the less. I know that's good for me, and I know now that there will be times I'm going to have to sit things out because I'll need to sit down and focus on my schoolwork. At first, when mom was such a bitch about grounding me, no phone, no internet, no going out or anything, I was extremely resentful and wanted only to piss her off more. I thought if I continued to go down in my marks, she would see that what she was doing made no difference in me. But it wasn't worth it and it would have been only me that I was hurting in the long run.

I need family. This past Monday was my Aunt Lorraine's Funeral. She had a great life, lived it long and true and made such an impact on everyone. She was such a great character, always the optimist. After being told that she would never be able to walk again after a car accident, Aunt Lorraine amazed all doctors by taking a few feeble steps just hours after. Soon, she was good as new, besides the ever-persistent cancer. In the long run, it was a mix of that and the old-age that finally got her.

During the funeral, they played What A Wonderful World, and I couldn't help the tears that fell. That was her favorite song, and all I could picture in my head was Her, shining from ear to ear, at some dance club going "Let's dance! This is my favorite song!" The funeral was held on her birthday, and did we ever celebrate.

This was the first time I'd experienced a death in my family. It made me appreciate every little bit of them all. I actually didn't even mind going to go visit great-aunt Maud the other day, because, well, she needs me just as much as I need them all.

So, tomorrow being my fifteenth birthday, I think I'm almost turning over a new life. I know what I need in life, more than anything. My future-Career, My friends to help me along the way, My marks to get me there, and My Family to stand behind me 100%.

Here's to a new year of me. Thanks for riding along for the ride!

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some Reggie's to attend to.

Fighting The Force

2005-04-12T15:02:00.000-03:00

When did it become wrong to stand up for what you believed in? When did it become absurd to by loyal? When did it become fair to punish people for doing what they felt was right? When did it become good to not go through with your word?

As of today, I am suspended for two weeks because I partook in the walk-out. At ten to two, along with a few other students from my home room, I walked out of my math class and left the school building.

For weeks now, the teachers and everyone else have been standing up for what they believe in, but when it starts to hurt us, the students, then we need to do the same. Maybe work to rule is helping the teachers, but isn't their main focus as teachers to help us? Shouldn't it be the students that they care most about?

The whole lunch hour, all that anyone could talk about was how the whole school was going to walk out. I was in Athlete's World when me and n heard it on the radio and the cashier began asking us about it. Soon, everyone was talking about it too, so we figured we'd help spread the word a bit. By the time we all went into our fourth period classes, everyone was all, "Oh yeah, I'm walking out! For sure, yea!" But when the time came, no one wanted to make the first move. No one wanted to be the first to stand up for themselves. No one wanted to risk that they might get in trouble.

I left, and now, I face two weeks suspension and it will go on my permanent record. But all I have to say is this; No, I did not make a fool out of myself, I stood up for myself. And I showed that if I say I'm going to do something, that I'm going to do it. Maybe you should all try it sometime, maybe you should all try standing up for yourself.

Wake Up Calls

2005-03-31T16:02:00.000-04:00

In a city like Saint John, at a time like Spring, many people are receiving their Winter-Wake-Up-Calls from hibernation. Spring cleaning has once again come around, the snow has all melted, the birds have returned and people are waking up to smell the roses.

Our wake up call back to life is felt very strongly during this early-Spring time, but are we heeding the wake up calls we are handed day to day?

As a younger, less experienced, immature girl, I remember thinking a lot. Not just your normal run-of-the-mill thinking either, I thought deep, long and hard about every possible subject. At one time, I pondered wake up calls. I contemplated what it would take to "wake up" some people, to give them some sign that some of the choices that they made in life were not always the smartest ones.

Sometimes it does take something drastic, some desperate measure of the fates.

My cousin, a chain smoker, had a wake up call the other month when she found out she had possibly terminal lung cancer. She has not touched a cigarette since, but the damage has already been done. My Uncle, a wonderful man and a great father, had the wake up call of his life when his wife packed up and left him for someone else.

A while ago, I used to hope some people would receive their wake up calls. I used to hope that some people would stop doing the things that they did.

Actually, I just wished they'd stop altogether without having to have the disastrous wake up I had in mind. But for some people, it was the only way. And although my bullies never received their life-changing moment I desperately hoped for, after time, they moved on to bully others.

Leaving me to think, does it have to take a school shooting, bombing or suicide to show us that we can hurt people beyond all measure? We can destroy their souls, their minds, their drive for life. We can, and do, destroy people until they get to the point where they truly feel they have nothing to lose.

I found myself thinking all this over again last night, as I lay in bed on the phone.

"Do you ever just think to yourself, next year, I'm going to do everything right. I'm going to do my homework, go to class on time, be nice to everyone and eat healthy?"

"Of course," He says. "But there's a difference between thinking something, and doing it. And I would need a pretty big wake up call to completely change my life around like that."

Right. Everyone does. We're all just living our lives the way that we do, completely unaware that one day, a life changing event will come along and blow our socks off.

I think I got mine.

In a city like Saint John, at a time like Spring, many people are receiving their wake up calls. Your actions will not go unconsequencial. Someday, some time, somewhere, there will be a price to pay.

Small World

2005-03-26T19:29:00.000-04:00

Someone named my blog, "Blog Title of The Day" !

Damn Practical

2005-03-26T18:17:00.000-04:00

It's those fatal words she says to me as she gets ready to go out tonight.

While sucking in her stomach and choosing out jeans, she looks over, and ever-so-non-chalant, says, "Do you think this old body of mine could handle another baby?"

I'm shocked, and most, utterly disgusted. My mouth hangs open, as in my head I try to remember mom; twenty-six, and pregnant with Lissa.

As I catch my breath, I manage to spit out, "Don't ever say that again!"

"What? Woman older then my age are having babies all the time now!"

"Yea, and then those babies are stuck with old moms!"

"I'm not old."

"But you will be."

"I'm not saying I'm going to Katelyn, but mind you, if the chance presents itself, I wouldn't mind another child."

"With Blair, right?"

"Who else would I be popping babies out with?"

"It's great how you just act like it's no biggie Mom. No biggie, just another child to add to the already screwed up enough Andrews Family! We aren't even really Andrews, we're like Doyle, but not! Maybe like Morris? No, Aucoin? Will we be Morely now that you have your whole future planned out with Blair?"

"This sounds like that talk I had to have with you when you were four," Mom mumbles as she lies on the bed, zippering up her jeans. "You know, in the eighties, if you had to lie down to do up your jeans, then they were the right size, but if you could do them up standing up, they were too big."

"Thanks for that tidbit of information."

"Just like I can love you and lissa, I can love another child. And it won't matter that much anyways. By the time I have another baby, you'll be off and gone."

"Well, that's what I said when you asked me if I thought Blair would make a good stepdad. I said it wouldn't matter because I'm not going to be around much longer anyways and you told me not to be ridiculous, but it's ok when it comes to a possible half-sibling?"

"Yeah Kate. Because you're outlook on life sucks so much and your outlook and everything does, the only time you're ever going to be happy is when you're gone off to school and out of my life forever, never looking back to talk to me again, right?"

"God only hopes," I mumble as I peel the nail polish off my nails.

"And I'm just going to pay for you to get there and for everything else too! But you'll be damn glad to be rid of me and everyone, right? Because everything and everyone make you miserable Katelyn. You are a miserable, selfish, human being."

Then she slams the door to the bathroom, unable to hear my last few remarks in response to her.

Another baby? Over my dead body. No spawn of Blair-Satan will cross the threshold to my house while I'm alive. And that is not being selfish, that's just being damn practical.

You're The Kind of Person I Hate

2005-03-22T22:59:00.000-04:00

The ones that think they're better then everyone else. They prance around like they've never done anything wrong, never had a down day, never been made fun of, never had a good cry. They think that just because they have looks or possibly popularity that that serves as wholesomeness, well it doesn't.

I hate the kind of person that thinks so highly of themselves that they act like you should feel privledged to be even talking to them, to have even wasted a moment of their time. I hate the kind of person that laughs at other's mistakes, that mocks other people for their flaws, that think they can do no wrong.

A lesson we all learned long ago is that everyone is unique, yes, but equal.

You're the kind of person I hate.

You act like you've never made a mistake, like I'm the only one to have realized I've been wrong.

Everyone makes mistakes, you've made your fair share too. Yet you sit there, on this pedestal you built yourself and barade others.

Does it make you feel superior, I wonder? If not, then why? Afterwards, do you relax and think to yourself, a job well done? Another life, destroyed?

I used to have faith in you, I watched you grow, I watched you live and learn. I thought, of all people, that you would learn to treat others equal.

This isn't about them anymore, this is about you. This is about how you've treated people in the past.

This is it all coming back.

How do you feel? Justified in your actions still? Is it still ok when it happens to you?

Forgive and forget, or live with regrets,
Because it's time to move on,
Forgive and move on.

You're the kind of person I hate. And for years now, I've been seeing it all wrong.

Amazing

2005-03-17T16:23:00.000-04:00

It's amazing how fast things change.

Just when you've reached the point of not even being able to remember what warmth feels like, the snow melts away and the birds come out.

Today, for the first time, I noticed spring.

It sunk down into my very bones, causing me to feel the sudden need to not wear a coat or to put on my flip-flops instead of my sneakers. Then again, Canadian winters are so long and harsh, I'm pleased with even a mildly cold day.

It's amazing how fast things change.

Just when you think there might be hope for the world, that we may all be making a team effort, you get hit with another shocker.

There was a bomb threat at Saint John High. I suppose it probably didn't affect me as badly as it would have had I been there, but still, to think they are only down the hill, to think of all the people there that I love and care for.

Then, on the other hand, I feel for who ever's life was so terrible that they felt that was their only way out. I'm sure we've all felt down in the dumps, but hurting other people is not the answer. When the whole world can stop this, this 'game' we're playing with other's lives, there shall be a thing we might be able to call peace.

You watch the news, you see the reports of the shootings and the bomb threats in other places. It's scary, but it doesn't affect you. I always felt so safe and sheltered from things like that in a small town like Saint John. But bullies and tormenting are everywhere. It will only be a short time before something happens that will really cause us all to take a close look at our actions and choices.

It's amazing how fast things change.

Amazing, how fast time goes by.

Amazing how life keeps going.

Split Second Decision

2005-03-08T13:02:00.000-04:00

The moss was cool and spongy on her little tanned feet. Each time she put her foot down she got a bit more wet. Crickets sang in the distance, cheerfully, hauntingly, they knew why she ran, why she tore through the forest like an army was chasing her. She had been running for a long time, much longer then just tonight.

Far back she had lost her shoes, her purse, her coat. Far back she had shed anything that would weigh her down. She ran like the wind, dodging this way and that, many of times being struck in the face by a branch or a vine. It was dark, and hard to see. She wove her way through her obstacles, avoiding them at all costs. That was the way she worked, avoiding all obstacles at all costs.

He had not followed. Like many times before, he had not followed when she ran. But she knew, somewhere, somehow, he would catch up to her.

Then it would be up to her to do what she saw fit, and for once she would be in control of her life and decisions.

He had never made her feel in control. In her Father's eyes, he controlled her. He controlled her even now, causing her to flee. Causing her to leave her not-quite-perfect life for one of hardships beyond all belief.

She knew he wasn't chasing her, yet she ran like her life depended on it. She had never been able to run all those times he had cornered her, had hit her, had told her she was worthless, only good for one thing. She couldn't run then, but she could run now.

And nothing and no one would stop her.

Read What Happened Before.

The Homecoming

2005-03-03T17:28:00.000-04:00

Jill grunted with the weight of her final suitcase as she heaved it into the back of the waiting taxi cab. She had to readjust it a bit to make it fit along with the other five, but in the end she managed to slam the trunk door down on top of it all.

"All set?" the cab driver asked as she fastened her seat belt. Her day had definitely not gone well so far, first a flight delay, now a taxi driver who wouldn't even help with her luggage. She sighed, loud and pointedly, and brushed her limp strands of red hair from her eyes.

"I'm going to Millidgeville. I'll show you the house when we get there."

It was a cloudy day. Not a speck of light shining through the deep, dense clouds. A slight haze surrounded the whole city and area. a slight haze surrounded Jill too, drawing her in.

It felt so good to be home, yet she still pondered her welcome back.
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"Ashlee, so help me god! I'm not coming up there! Get the hell out of bed, you have work to do!"

Ashlee groaned, rolled over, and shoved her head under the pillow a bit farther. Her plan being that she would hold out as long as possible before caving into her mother's demands. And, any extra sleep possible was a god-send these days.

The bedroom was dark, all the curtains closed tight so as to not let even a speck of light through. It was like an entire haze was surrounding her this morning, pulling her in. It almost felt muffled in there, like when you wake up to snow, and even before you see it, you can feel that it's going to be there.

"There's mail here for you, and I'm throwing it out if you don't come down here, now!"

Ashlee poked her head out of the pillows and blankets a bit. Had she heard correctly? Mail? But that would mean...

"I'm coming mom!" She jumped up, grabbed her robe and set off bounding down the stairs.

The twins sat at the kitchen table eating toast. Her older brother Henri was just making his way out the door, and there sat her mother in the midst of it all. Like one single image in a painting, like the only object not moving in a meteor shower.

"It's on the table," she said coldly, without even looking up from her paper. "There's no return address. I want you to tell me who it's from."

"Well gee, let me just ask the damn letter. Maybe it will tell me!" Ashlee snatched the envelope off the table and studied it a bit before tearing one end open. Plain, white envelope, typed address, plain white paper.

"I meant when you opened it Ashlee, don't be smart with me, I'm not in the god damn mood."

But by now Ashlee was already lost in the note. And she knew exactly who it was from.
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"I know, that's exactly why I said, why not the pink shirt?"

Rayelle walked out of class, surrounded by her 'friends' as always, or at least what she liked to call friends. Ashlee remembered when they had been friends, it wasn't even that long ago. But then again, so much had changed in the short time that Jill had been gone. So much had changed about this 'elle', this girl who she had always considered almost family. So much had changed. And now, just looking at her made ashlee feel a bit of hatred inside towards a girl who now treated her like a lower life-form.

"Can I help you?" Rayelle asked with a smirk as Ashlee stepped in front of her. With the new-found stillettos, Rayelle was a good foot taller then Ash now, even more intimidating, but Ashlee stood tall. With the army of bitches standing behind her, Ray was now powerfull, and she knew it. And Ashlee was only one.

you're doing this for Jill, she thought to herself. This is for Jill.

"Yes?"

"I need to talk to you in private Rayelle, it's important. So if you can take a moment out of your busy schedule..."

"What is it? I am busy."

"It's about Jill." Ashlee knew she touched a nerve, she could see it right across Rayelle's face. Her eyes seemed to bug out for a second, then settle back into place.

"What about Jill?" She asked, as she fought to regain her cool. The new rayelle was far too good to remember "old" friends.

"Like I said, it's private," and with that, ashlee turned on her heel and walked away. She was glad Rayelle couldn't see the look on the face, and Ash, the look on hers. She was fuming right to the tips of her bleached blonde dreads. How dare Rayelle Whittaker treat her, her former "best friend" like this? And how dare she act like Jill didn't matter?

"Ashlee, wait." She felt a tap on her shoulder. Rayelle had followed her, down the hall and onto the stairwell. Her eyes were a bit shiny. "I want to know what it is, I want to help."

"Oh really?" Ashlee started. "Because..."

"I know you're getting letters from her Ashlee, would you just please tell me what's been going on. Jill was my friend too."

"Was your friend? Oh, so now she's not? You know sometimes Rayelle, you piss me off so god damned much..."

"Where is she?" A desperate look flitted across Rayelle's face. "I need to know where she is."

"She wrote me a latter, I got it this morning." Ashlee sighed and looked down, almost incapable of telling Rayelle this top-secret information. "She's coming home, she said to meet her at my house tonight because no one will be home. And not to tell her Dad or anyone." Ashlee patted her side-pouch on her purse. "It says it all in the letter."

"Let me see that!" Rayelle made a grab for the purse, but Ashlee quickly turned to the other way.

"She told me not to show anyone, not even you!"

"God damnit, you're a priss, when are we supposed to meet her?" It seemed Rayelle was getting bored with this little meeting in good-time.

"Tonight, my house. She flies in this morning."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

by the time the cab pulled into the driveway, the street lights were on, the sun having past sunk behind the shadows of the mysterious clouds that loomed above. Jill shivered as she stepped out onto solid concrete. It had been quite a while, quite a long drive, quite an adventure, quite a night.

"Do you need any help with the bags Miss?" the cab driver called out of his open window. Jill could tell though, just by his tone of voice that he didn't exactly feel like helping her.

"I'm good, thanks."

"Have a good night then." and with that, he was off down the dark, curving road. She watched his taillights until he came to the intersection. She watched as his blinker came on and he made the turn back in the direction of the highway. The only thing that had somehow linked her to her life for the past eight months, gone.

She slowly turned around, looking straight at the house looming ahead of her. It seemed dark enough, not a light on that she could see on any of the floors. No noise or music, and it all seemed so 'peaceful'.

Leaving her bags at the curb, she slowly started to walk forward, as if in a trance, as if the house was pulling her closer. This was her house, or at least the closest thing she had ever had to feeling like a home. The night was dead silent, only the subtle tapping noise of her feet, walking up the front steps. Then the muffled noise of the doorbell sounding, barely, almost like a screaming girl being smothered.

She could hear the footsteps coming, almost feel the vibrations of their steps. She could see the reflections of the shapes behind the tinted glass, feel the anticipation as the screen door inched open.

But she was not ready for what stood behind it. She could not describe the feeling, that sinking feeling, the feeling of finally being defeated. She had ran, she had left it all behind, she had tried her hardest to let that be a chapter in her past. But it seemed no matter where she went, it was there. And there was only one word that could describe that feeling she felt right then.

"...Dad?"

Read What Happened Before.

Read What Happens After.

Leaving On A Jet Plane

2005-02-27T15:16:00.000-04:00

Her jeans were ripped.

Of all the pants that she had, that she could have worn today, she just had to pick the ripped ones.

She stuck her finger in the rip, pulling at the fraying white threads. Pulling them out one by one, like she wished to pull out her own hair at this moment.

“Miss? Could you put your legs down please? We’re going to ask that everyone puts on their seatbelts now, we’re preparing for takeoff.”

She sat up, stretching out her legs as best as she could in the cramped area. The old man beside her snorted in his slumber as she clumsily bounced around. She just couldn’t seem to get comfortable, the chairs were too stiff, she had too many things out and around her, the cords from her headset were tangled up with her. Barely even an hour here and she had succeeded in completely trashing her sitting area for the next six hours.

Tidying up the best she could, she flumped back down into her seat. A twinkle of dust slowly moved through the rays of the sun shining through her window. It was a small window, barely big enough to look through, and even if she could have, she doubted she would.

Looking at what you were trying so hard to leave wasn’t always the best idea. It made her think of the bible story where Lot’s wife is told not to look back at their city when they run away, yet she looks back, and is turned into a pillar of salt. Jill didn’t exactly desire to turn into salt right now as she was on a salt-free diet.

So, she went back to picking at the rip, concentrating all of her frustrations on it. An announcement went through the crowded second-class, they would be taking off soon, please secure all items… blah blah blah. Again the old man snorted. Jill looked over in his direction. Typical business traveler, crumpled suit, casual tie, laptop case. His gray hair was balding to the point where it almost didn’t make sense to keep the miniscule amount there, might as well be completely bald. His eyeglasses were smudged and bent out of shape. He wore them with a certain sense of dignity, yet, he too looked afraid. She could sense it in the way he had curled himself up into a half fetal-position, the way he seemed tense, rigid in his seat. He couldn’t have been very old, even though from that day on she would refer to him as “the old man,” possibly in his mid-forties.

He twitched again and frightened her. She had not noticed how intently she had been studying him, possibly trying to fill her head with thoughts other then those of what she was truly doing at this moment.

She reached into her worn and tattered book bag, moving aside the ‘provisions’ and the blanket and pulled out her old Discman. Plugging in the headset that was meant to watch the movie with, she blasted it as loud as it would go.

Like studying the old man, the music always took away from her thoughts, always took her to another place like she was hoping this airplane would, always distracted her from life.

" If you believe it's in my soul, I'd say all the words that I know. Just to see if it would show, that I'm trying to let you know, that I'm better off on my own." *

She cozied up into her seat, lying on her side, facing towards the window, but refusing to look out it. The music’s sad tune lulled her, calmed her nerves and helped in chocking back her tears.

And when the plane lifted up off the ground, just like Lot’s wife, Jill dared to glance one final look back. That’s when she saw him running along-side the plane, chasing her, holding onto her with all his might.

Jill would rather turn to salt then turn back now.
*sum41 - peices

Read What Happens After.

Girl's Night

2005-02-26T00:19:00.000-04:00

a typical girl's night. spent eating junkfood, watching lame-ass chick-flicks and deciding what girls we think are pretty and what ones we don't.

you can't say it isn't typical, because we all do it. and although it made me think about L's post about how girls are expected to be these 'godesses' that sometimes we all can't be, it was funny when amy and i both agreed that we hated lindsay lohan's eyebrows in mean girls with a passion. and that we didn't beleive that she had never had a boob job. and that the little mole on her lip was pretty gross.

but in picking her apart, we were no where near feeling great about ourselves. you can pick most celebs apart right to miniscule shreds, and still know that push-come-to-shove, most guys would pick the celeb over you any day. that's just how it goes. and i think most of us have come to terms with that a few years back when we realised that mary-kate and ashley weren't all that they're cracked up to be.

so amy and i 'vegged' out on the couch in our pajamas. watching mean girls. and for some odd reason, drinking chocolate milk and pepsi out of brandy glasses.

"she does have manly shoulders."

"eww, she's too pale to be blonde."

"i wonder how she gets her hair so greasy?"

"haha, look at her teeth!"

but the fact still being, that they were the ones on the movie. and hey, that's fine, because if it means having eyebrows like lindsay lohan's to be a star, i'm good in my sweatpants for now. with my choco-brandy. having girl nights with amy.

Lacking

2005-02-26T00:01:00.000-04:00

it's actually not that hard just to sit down and type, really, it isn't. but to sit down and type something meaningful, that's the true challenge. and i'm now challenging myself to do that constantly, which is where the writer's blocks come in.

so, just as a heads up, there will be a hold on more short stories for a while. lately life has been lacking the necessary inspiration.

The Parties Under The Bridge

2005-02-16T19:13:00.000-04:00

Liera was never invited to any of the parties under the bridge. Not even tonight's, which had been promised to be the best of the year. It wasn't even that they were invitation only; she was just terrified that someone would notice that she wouldn't belong, that she hadn't been asked to come along and had just arrived.

Like an icicle in the Sahara, Liera stood out in a crowd. She did not fit into the picture. Sometimes she, herself, noticed this. Mostly when her face was shadowed out of the photographs, or when, on rare occasions, she seemed to be giving off a pearlescent glow. Almost to say, "Here I am, notice me and the fact that I am different."

Tonight, Liera was glowing harder then ever as she trekked along the train tracks toward the river crossing. The music reached her ears before even the scent of cigarette smoke did. It was loud, intoxicating, and rhythmic beyond all belief. It pumped through her like blood, and she found herself like-wise depending on it to keep her going.

Liera caught sight of a shadow, hanging over the bridge; like a canopy of protection from the outside world. It hovered, delicately woven of the innocence of the children, slightly growing in size as she edged nearer. She was not sure if it was growing simply from perspective.

The bridge was alive. The beach side, infested. Music blared from every possible speaker, many different tunes at once. Liera reached the end of the tracks and stood, shadowed behind the bushes. She watched, and like a cool drink of fresh water, she drank them in. She was a peeper, a watcher. She wished only to observe, but never to participate.

Voices of the kids crept up in the thick summer air towards her, taunting her. "What are you doing here? You do not belong." The shadow above roared it's agreement, it trembled, it shook, and proceeded to sprinkle the night with a light summer rain. Liera watched from the outside, and even when everyone scrambled under the bridge and into pulled over pick-up trucks to avoid the wetness, she seemed untouched by the water at all. Not a single drop reached her, proof again that she was not wanted.

Liera was never invited to any of the parties under the bridge. Not even tonight's. But she watched, like she had done every time before. She did not fit in with the crowd, perhaps her life was destined to be that of an outsider looking in. She was invisible, she was remarkably noticeable. She was distinct.

She was alone while she watched the party, with only the shadow of innocence to talk to. It talked much, for it had many tales to tell. Many secrets to divulge. Liera drank up every inch of this "outside world" like a tall drink of fresh water. And when the rain finally stopped along the beach, it rained a bit on her. For once, Liera did not see it as being left out, she saw it as her being the only one.

Just Leave Me Be

2005-02-16T17:49:00.000-04:00

Undecipherable is that which
You inscribed behind
You leave me with memories
You leave me behind

You leave me alone
Leave me terrified
I can’t read what you wrote
And you I can’t find

To decipher this mess
To prove me wrong
You left me alone.
I’m on my own.

Extra Tears

2005-02-10T11:34:00.000-04:00

looking back it seems surreal. how things could change so much from what they had been. how she could change so much, in a matter of small short months.

sometimes, when she tried to remember things, or she said memories out loud, they almost made her want to cry. but not in the fact that she remembered what it was like, it made her want to cry for someone else because she could not comprehend how things could ever have been like that. she shed tears for someone else's life, or so it felt.

well, whoever that someone else was, they were sure getting a lot of extra tears lately.

Mmm, Strawberry-Rhubarb

2005-02-08T18:54:00.000-04:00

so im sitting here, eating this sick "t.v." diner i just finished "cooking", while i screw around with the internet trying to get my msn to work and wondering what this cranberry apple "dessert" is really made of, when it occurs to me.

the internet sucks.

and so do mothers, i've concluded. no offense to all you motherly readers out there, i'm sure you're all doing a great job, but let me ask you one thing.

say your child has an extreme passion. they are truly interested in something, of harmless nature. say, it's perhaps writing... and well, they write every day, and they write novels, they want to grow up to be a writer... (etc.) maybe they write a three hundred page book that has taken them ages, like seriously ages to accomplish, they actually put thier mind to it and finished something they began... would you encourage them in all this? would you take the time out of your busy schedual to read what your child had wrote? would you not allow them onto the computer to type AT ALL during the week, even if they're not on the internet and not tying up the line?!

i have a passion. it's called my book. i call it my baby. and now the damn baby has been put on hold of it's due date for another year or so. i really truly thought i was going to pop that thing out, but noooooo. seems to me my mom stuck her hands up there and shoved it back in!!!

hey, that apple-cranberry thing was actually pretty good. hmm, kind of like a strawberry rhubard crumble, even though it included none of those ingredients.

soo, if i am permitted the pleasure of writting again, i will proceed to post chapter one A and chapter one B on my blog. im looking for some advice on which one you like more, there's this long and complicated story about why i have too, and im just too lazy today to write it out for you :)

and now i'm going to go and finish eating.

Running From Something

2005-02-04T17:35:00.000-04:00

the streets were far darker at night then during the day. she lost her sense of orientation quickly. the roads all seemed to look the same, the night engulfing them all in it's simple darkness. the stars shining down on every single surface, except her, and she walked alone.

the harbour passage was a bitch at night. walking underneath the bridge, she saw so many homeless men huddling to keep out the cold. they yelled things towards her, calling out to her, asking her where she was going. she knew the answer, just not the destination. she wondered what it would be like to sleep out under the stars tonight, to wake up with the frost on her nose, or maybe to be lucky and not wake up again.

she touched her mitten to her nose, whipping away the tears that had run down her face. it's rough texture stung, but only temporarily. walking quickly, she was numb, she was unfeeling, she was hateful. she was something alright, something other then that which she had been.

the boardwalk was empty. the cars, heading out. the streetlights burned yellow patches into the gray snow. she made her way in extreme quiet, in extreme secrecy, in extreme pain.

she had not called ahead of time, but a good fourty five minutes since she had started walking, she reached the waterfront. she reached the little green house. the lights were on, they engulfed her like warmth, they engulfed her entirely and she was still. and she was afraid to move. and she was afraid that all that she had come to know would unravel tonight before her eyes. and she was afraid that like those bums she might end up sleeping homeless tonight. and she was afraid.

then the door opened and she was allowed entry. her eyes colder then usual, her face drained from color, she knew things they had no idea. what was it that she was being exposed to so often? had they no clue? had he no clue? would he help her from what she wished to hide from? who she wished to hide from?

was she hiding from the world that night, while she slept by the soft glow of the lamp, and the goo goo dolls played on the strereo, and she bit her fingers bare? was she hiding? or was she being hiden?

it was too hard and too much for her to comprehend, she would say it again, and as the morning would break across the waterfront, she would deny to herself as much as to the world that those kind of things happen to her.

"we grew up way too fast, and now there's nothing to believe. and reruns all become our history. a tired song keeps playing on a tired radio, and i won't tell no one your name, i won't tell your name."- name, the goo goo dolls.

I'm Grounded On Sunday, Btw

2005-02-02T18:43:00.000-04:00

"what do you mean you didn’t wash the dishes?"

"mom, i was home sick today. i figured i'd just wash them tomorrow, when i went back to school and everything, just start everything up again tomorrow.”

"well you were healthy enough to put makeup on!"

"yeah!... oookk..."

"you sounded just like your father when you said that."

"are you trying to be offensive mom? because i love dad, and sounding just like him is fine by me! at least he knew how much of a complete knob you are!"

"there you go again! you're the spitting image of him katelyn! you always have to be rude and have the final word."

"you're the spitting image of the devil !!!"

(and that's how i came to be grounded ... again)

Monkey Mittens

2005-02-02T10:22:00.000-04:00

as i write this, i have actual mittens taped to my hands. actual mittens. and i mean, i could easily just rip them off with my teeth if i really wanted to, but no. i find this much to comical, especially seeing as they're brown mittens, in the shape of a monkey's head, complete with teeth and eyes and ears. so it ends up looking like i'm having a puppet show. but, if i scratch hard enough, i can still scratch.

these look exactly like the monkeys, except, well, they're frogs.

today is day three being a chicken, and i'm starting to wonder if they're ever going to go away ... i'm not really disappointed that i missed school today, but if these spots don't get the hell off my face here in the next few days, i'm gonna be some mad!

mike, dylan and levi showed up again yesterday to visit me. this time they at least called before they came, but then again they only called when they were down at the corner store, and i had just gotten out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, covered in sickly spots. they insisted on making me soup, whish was sweet and all, but if you had have seen some of the ingredients in that soup, i don't think you would have ate it either. and they brought me a bunch of bath salts, cough drops, soup, tylenols and whatnot. so that was pretty nice.

(just so you know, the whole time i've been typing this, i've been doing it with my thumbs, and using the spellcheck about every sentence.)

today i would say my appetite is back in full. and, beleive it or not, i think my addiction to dairy products is too. it's quite strange, but about once every two months i go on these milk "binging" sprees, and all i want to drink is milk, all i want to eat is cheese or yogurt or cereal with a lot of milk, and that's mostly all i do eat for about a week. it's been ever since my doctor recommended me to try out that 'dairy diet' or whatnot. but, on the bright side, my hair's growing, my nails are growing and i find myself pretty healthy exam for these damn pox.

so, there's really not that much to say today. i'm home alone while everyone else is in school. teacher called my house last night and told my mom that i failed the majority of my exams. so i doubt i'll be writting a lot lately anways. but i will try this week, seeing as i'm home alone, dying, with nothing else to do.

Me, My Spots, And I

2005-02-01T11:19:00.000-04:00

my fingers feel naked. mom made me cut all my nails off today so that i would stop scratching my chicken pox until they bleed. so now all that time i spent painstakingly growing out my pathetic nails was wasted, but i can barely care right now.

it's time for an update. i know i haven't written in a while, and i'm not going to explain to you why. it's not really something to broadcast across the internet, so i'll keep it to myself. but as for the chicken pox, i can tell you about those. well, i'm covered. absolutely covered in chicken pox. right now it doesn't really look like it though because i've slathered myself with calomine lotion to ease the itch. but still, i'm on the verge of an insane itching spree. last night mom threatened to duct-tape oven mits to my hands if i didn't stop itching, but she hasn't yet come through with her promise. i've tried everything, oatmeal baths, calomine lotion, cold cloths, polysporin, everything.

so now, i have this insane desire to play connect-the-dots. i've already made a heart, it's quite nice if i do say so myself. i've also already polished off half a black forest cake myself for breakfast, it was real good too. my appetite has finally returned in a small porportion. i'm home alone today, and for the next two weeks, now though. i really just wish i could have caught these a long time ago, like when i was five or something, i'm going to end up scarring really badly. i have them all over my face, and in my ears, and in my nose, down my throat, well hell, they're everywhere!

yesterday dylan and mike stopped by randomly to bring me chicken soup and a magazine. i thought that was adorable, even though i was in sweat pants and a sweatshirt, covered in spots, which are starting to strangely look like body acne... sick, i know.

there's not really that much to write, but i knew i had to write something, no matter how bad the writter's block has become. (and it's really bad now.) i have a feeling i'll be writting more often now though, seeing as i won't be in school for the next two weeks.

so, if anyone has any suggestions for chicken pox 'relief', please, please, please! leave a comment! the oatmeal baths are shit by the way, all they did for me was make me smell like fresh oatmeal, although i do like fresh oatmeal, well no, they made me itch more. and the calomine lotion tastes funny.

Again.

2005-01-29T13:42:00.000-04:00

i have writer's block again. so no post today.

Glad To Be Home, For Once.

2005-01-27T13:46:00.000-04:00

today was the coldest day i've had to endure so far. well, maybe it wasn't, but it felt like peices of me were falling off into the snow behind me. it felt like my nose was constantly running, like my eyes were hanging out of the sockets and like that area where my ass turns into my legs was on fire.

going to hvhs had been a stupid, random, spur of the moment idea. the only reason i had really gone was because i didn't feel like taking the bus home by myself. the five of us caught the bus at city hall, but we waited for it most of the time inside because stephen eric and ryan wanted to play on the escalators. it was actually quite fun, i even tried running up the down one myself. when the bus finaly came, jessy didn't have a bus pass so she had to use her student id, but thank god the bus driver let us on or i swear, my ass was gonna fall off and die.

i don't even know where the idea to go to hvhs had come from, i wasn't even sure who they really wanted to see there. eric called someone on his cell phone and told them to meet us out front when the bus came by and to get on with us. but when the bus pulled up to the bus stop, they weren't there so we ended up getting off and going inside.

the school smelt funny, no offense all you hvhs'rs but it did. jessy described it as "rat". the smell of rat. when we first went in there were a lot of people but i guess only because they don't really have anywhere to go on thier breaks or lunch hour. we went into the cafeteria, which was really ... confusing. well for me at least. ryan went over to talk to someone he knew, and jessy was talking to her friends, and well everyone was talking to someone. so i talked to ... myself.

jessy and i wanted to explore, but they wouldn't come with us, ryan just kept saying something about a secret bathroom up above the auditorium where we could go if we wanted to "explore", but then again, ryan's a nutcase. eventually they said we were going to barnhill school, reasons unknown, and that we had to go back outside to catch another west bus. some guy and a girl joined our little posse, but the girl didn't talk much. we waited out front for a good twenty minutes for the bus to come, the only one who hadn't come with us was ryan who was in there talking to his breakdancing friends.

when the bus came it was a woman driving. i don't think i've ever seen one of those before! she let me on with my bus pass, but jessy still only had the id, and the bus driver wouldn't let her on! the bus was packed, and everyone else had gotten on ahead of us, so i did the "polite cousin" thing and got off with her. what a bitch that bus driver was!

so, we were alone, at hvhs. not the best place to not know where you're going. it being freezing out and all, we went back inside, in hopes of finding ryan and being able to get a drive home with him. we did find him, standing outside of some "student lounge" thing or whatnot, but he wasn't realy listening to us. so we left to explore.

we found out three things right away. one) it smells like rat everywhere. two) we actually did know people there, when we met up with laura and nicole. and three) hvhs is realy just ... a circle? well i don't know how else to describe it, but everytime we thought we were headed a new direction we always ended up back where we started, or passing the same people multiple times. evetually we gave up our "exploration" and met up with ryan and them back in the cafeteria or whatever that place was.

jessy goes, "there's jordan." and points behind me.

i look, and there not only is jordan, but mat. i know we've been talking lately and everything, but i wasn't prepared for how unbelievably awkward that was. i looked away right fast and was just like, "jessy, it's mat! what do i do?"

"hey mat!" she yells.

he didn't notice, but he did start to walk our way. i thought, if he says hi i'll say hi back ... i guess.

he just randomly turns, sees me and looks completely comfused, but then again i am supposed to be uptown at stm. so yeah, he looks at me and "waves", so i'm polite and wave back. then he dissapears for a while into some room, so i figure he must be awkward about it too, and i breathe a sigh of relief. but then he comes back, with a posse of people and jordan and kyle and some girls, and walks right by me, only nodding.

maybe i'm only imagining things, but to me it really seemed like he couldn't walk by me until he had all his friends. that was ... awkward too because as they walk out the door, kyle turns back to me and says, "hi katelyn."

"hey." (i'm totally weirded out.)

"aren't you going to say hi to mat?" he asks, looking in the direction of the back of mat's head. he's talking pretty loud now by the way.

"i did."

"oh, ok bye!"

weird, weird, weird. jessy just looks at me, her eyes said it all. "that was ... weird," she mumbles.

"you're telling me."

so, they leave, and me and jessy are now just sitting there, bored out of our minds, while ryan talks on and on to these guys. so eventually we tell him we're leaving to go catch a bus home now. except, the school's a "circle" like i told you, and it took us a while to get out.

we walked past mat and his "posse" again on the way out. he just nodded at me, it was a real weird nod. jessy is walking behind me and once we get far enough away i turn to her and she gives me this ... confused ... look and says, "he said hi to me and asked me how i was doing."

"he did?"

"yeah, he was like 'hey you'."

"why would he say hi to you and not me?"

"that's what i was thinking, katelyn, i'm serious. if i were you i'd wanna punch him out. there's no need to be rude to you."

"can we just go?"

so we left, we caught a bus home, the east. it was freezing again waiting for it, and it only even brought me to place 400 where i had to transfer to get home. and then my right bus didn't come so i ended up taking the churchill blvd and having to walk from lime kiln drive.

and when i walked into my door, i was for once really happy to be home. and that's saying a lot because i'm never happy to be home anymore. well then again, i'm home alone right now, so that probably makes it a lot better.

tonight is the open house at pes for the new gr. fives coming in next year and i'm taking lissa. i'm actually kind of excited, it will be like the first time i've gone back since the first day of school. and i'm going back again tomorrow with mike so that he can see everyone too. dylan's going to meet me tonight (hopefully). that should be a good time, i have a feeling we have lots to talk about, plus i really want to get a copy of the school trip dvd.

plus i have to remind mr. gray about that date he promised he'd arrange for me and jeremy way back in gr. eight. he said he'd pay for it and everything, so me and jeremy decided we're going to hold him to it. we'll see what he says.

Much To Say About Nothing

2005-01-26T13:20:00.000-04:00

Last night's phone conversation got me thinking about what it is to be nothing. To not exist, not be alive, not know what's going on, to just stop living and be non-existent.

I tried to feel what it was like. I sat there, not moving, barely breathing and barely thinking. The only thing I thought about...was nothing...

Ok well for starters, what color is nothing? It's not black and it's not white. But what color is something that is colorless? Everything has to have a color. But then wait, this isn't an "everything", it's a "nothing", oh yeah.

Well, how big is it? When you're nothing, where will you go? Well, nowhere I guess because you're nothing. But how can something just be nothing? How can questions just be answered like that?

Ex. How big is the Universe?
---It has no beggining and it has no end. It goes on forever.

How old is god?
---He has no beggining and he has no end. He goes on forever.

But...HOW?

The more I got to thinking about nothing, the more I came to realize, you can't think about nothing, because it's nothing. And don't worry about it, because it's nothing.

How is it that minds can be capable of ever truly comprehending the words, "nothing" and "forever"? Why do we invent words that have no definate meaning?

I want, and need, and answer to everything. I want to know what happens to us when we die. I need to know if we become nothing. If the only point to living is living itself, then if you were a good person, in the end is there a reward of some kind?

The thing I'm most afraid of is becoming nothing forever. I know I want to be something, to make some sort of imprint before it's over.

On the path of life, we're all walking together in the sand. Towards the end of your life, the tide comes in and washes away all the footprints, making room for more. In the end of it all, don't you want to be the one whose footprint is so big and defined it can not be washed away? Don't you want to leave some kind of lasting impression?
I'm not going to spend my life being nothing if that's all that's waiting for me in the afterlife. Somethings seem like such big deals, but when you look at the big scheme of things...why, it's only nothing.

Maybe One Day

2005-01-23T16:29:00.000-04:00

Kat never liked the snow. She never liked the way it made her cold and wet, or the way it would cause her makeup to run as it flew into her face. She never enjoyed snow men or sliding or even winter for a matter of fact. She never really even enjoyed snow ball fights, unless it it was her throwing them.

So, she spent her boring Sunday inside. Not that it would have been a wise idea to go out anyways. The snow was blowing so fast and so hard across the street it looked like a brick wall was headed thier way. She preferred to spend the day in her pajamas, with no makeup on, lounging around and studying for her exams.

She would have spent it writing, had there not been one little insignificant problem. She had writer's block, yet again. It just seemed that all the words coming into her mind were not good enough, like she had to outdo everything she had done so far in each and every new post. Sometimes she could go weeks without writing anything at all, sometimes only a day or two. But the times that she wasn't writing were the worst times of all.

Maybe for some people writing was just something to do. When listing their hobbies and interests, would they put it down as one? When asked what they desired to be when they grew up, they would not state, "A writer." But to her, it was everything. The one thing that meant more then the publishing companies calling and offering book deals was coming onto her website and seeing the comments left about her work.

This was the one, and maybe for the time being, only way she could reach out to people with her work, and she intended to make every piece inspiring. To send shivers up someone's spine was her desire, to have them want to hear more was what she lived for.

Maybe one day they would realise, when they walked into a bookstore and saw the stack of fresh-off-the-press novels with her name all over them, that this wasn't just her dream. It was the only thing that she intended to see to in her life.

Maybe one day she could look back on her writing from years past and see how much she had improved, but for now it was so tedious, so pain-staking. Yes, the words came to her, the same way they come to everyone. But it was up to her to decifer them, to group them in the right formations, to add to them the meaning in which the people desired.

It was up to her to make her words heard. And if there was one thing she had ever been set on in her existence, this was it now.

Levi, My Friend

2005-01-22T21:45:00.000-04:00

Does it make sense?
We're living past-tense
Another day goes by

Truly, can you blame me?
For what I really see
I'm only seeing you for
Who you are

You're not real
You're make-beleive
You're all the wrong in this world

You're un-true
To yourself and me
And I finally understand

The sun goes down
(And I hate you)
The moon frowns
(And I hate you)
I hear the sounds
(I still hate you)
You're all around
And I hate you

Move on it's over
The time has come and gone
You're fifteen minutes are up

You'r not in the spotlight
No one gives a fuck
So shut the hell up.

The sun goes down
(And I hate you)
The moon frowns
(And I hate you)
I hear the sounds
(I still hate you)
You're all around
And I hate you

The sun goes down
(And I hate you)
The moon frowns
(And I hate you)
I hear the sounds
(I still hate you)
You're all around
And I hate you

Where You Are

2005-01-21T18:11:00.000-04:00

The year is 2000.

She watches the feilds go passing by out of her left side window. The little burganday mini-van travels along highway one, crossing across the country.

"Are we ever going to come back Mom?" She watched the cars pass them on the freeway. The mini-van was plenty old, and could only go so fast.

"I promise we'll come back. We'll try it out there for four years, and if things don't work out, we'll come home."

The radio played quietly, about the only thing that had never broke on the van yet.

I wanna wake up where you are, I won't say anything at all.

Even now she remember the thoughts going through her head. If only she could wake up the next morning and be where they were. All of the people she had ever known her whole life.

Goo Goo Dolls - Slide

Could you whisper in my ear, the things you wanna feel

I'll give you anything to feel it comin', do you wake up on your own

And wonder where you are, you live with all your faults

I wanna wake up where you are, I won't say anything at all

So why don't you slide, yeah we're gonna let it slide

Don't you love the life you killed, the priest is on the phone

Your father hit the wall, your ma disowned you

Don't suppose I'll ever know, what it means to be a man

Something I can't change, I'll live around it

I wanna wake up where you are, I won't say anything at all

So why don't you slide, yeah we're gonna let it slide

And I'll do anything you ever, dreamed to be complete

Little pieces of the nothing that fall, May put your arms around me

What you feel is what you are, and what you are is beautiful

May do you wanna get married, or run away

And I'll do anything you ever, dreamed to be complete

Little pieces of the nothing that fall, May put your arms around me

What you feel is what you are, and what you are is beautiful

May do you wanna get married, or run away

I wanna wake up where you are, I won't say anything at all.

The Dream Always Starts Out The Same...

2005-01-20T18:52:00.000-04:00

She's walking down a beach, wearing a brown polka-dot bikini, carrying a straw bag in one slim, tanned arm and a bottle of sunscreen in the other. A large, floppy pink hat sits atop of her shoulder length brown hair and there and sun freckles on her cheeks. She reaches a large rock, the size of a small house, which is sitting right in the middle of the beach, in the middle of a sea of fine white sand. The sun is just about to set, it's pink rays grabbing ahold of the ocean with one last grasp, trying to stop from slipping beneath the horizon.

She slings the bag over her shoulder, tossing the sunscreen inside, and proceeds to climb her way up the steep side of the rock's surface. Along the way are slight indentations to slide her fingers and toes into and to help pull her up farther. When at last she finally reaches the top, she sits herself down on the flattest section possible, sets down the bag and takes off the hat.

The sun is dying, it's body curling up at the feet of the world and saying it surrenders. She watches, spell-bound, while Kat watched her. She sighs, and pulls out of the bag a diary. It's pages are faded and the cover is torn and faded. As she opens it, she begins to cry. She pages through the pages until she comes to the first blank one. She then proceeds to tear out the page and tear it into hundreds of pieces, before throwing it into the suddenly-present wind. The peices twirl and swirl around her, forming a tornado around her head in the air, before re-assembling themselves into a single, un-torn page. The girl is suddelyn afraid, looking behind her and to her sides. There is no one there, and the page falls to the rock beside her.

This is where the dream changes.

She picks up the page, inhales deeply and turns it over. Written in blue ink, simple handwriting spells out the words, "I can make the sun set." She turns a sickly shade of white, even with the night being dark and the sun-burn on her cheeks and falls over on her side.

The dream ends with the page flying away.

I Just Want You To Know

2005-01-19T16:59:00.000-04:00

Kat and Jess had spent tech class fooling around yet again. They accomplished nothing on thier website project, they only managed to screw it up a bit more. Instead they spent the class listening to music online. With Tori doing the air guitar in the background.

Even though the music wasn't that loud, the whole class could hear it. The tin-like beats echoing off the desk.

And I don't want the world to see me, 'Cus I don't think that they'd understand. When everything's meant to be broken, I just want you to know who I am.

Tori's favourite air guitar song.

She walked through the door to her house and was hit with a sudden breeze of smoke. Dad lay on the couch, dead to the world, sleeping off whatever he had had to drink the night before. Lissa, chicken-pox infested, was curled on the couch wrapped up in blankets crying, her face a shade lighter then usual and her pox a tad bigger then before. She motioned for Kat to be quiet as she threw her books down on the floor.

"Why's he sleeping Liss? Isn't he supposed to be babysitting you?" It was easy to act non-chalant about it all. She dared to glance over, and he was there like he always had been.

Again, Liss stuck a little finger up to her lips. "Dad said we have to be quiet." she whispered. "He said he was 'hung-over'. Wanna watch Hulk with me?"

"No."

The window's weren't opened, the house was a mess, and there he slept when he should have been caring for his sick daughter. It seemed so 'familair'. He was there, in real life. Not like the way he had been when he had only been there in objects. But he wasn't. He wasn't there for them anymore. And for once, she realized she didn't care.

"Wanna see my room Dad?" She asked later on. He was throwing his olive green coat over his shoulders, the same one she used to curl up in when they went fishing, the same one that smelt like a mix between moth balls and old spice.

He picked it apart. Right from the pictures of poster boys to the drawings she had done. He called it a disaster, mocked the people on her walls..

The radio was still on from that morning. It was on quite low, but yet she could hear it over him. The tin-like beats echoing off the walls.

And I don't want the world to see me, 'Cus I don't think that they'd understand. When everything's meant to be broken, I just want you to know who I am.

He probably had snooped that day, just like her mother had told her. She had said to hide anything that her Dad might be able to hold against her. Yet Kat didn't. She left just enough out to let her Dad have a good idea of who she was. He picked it apart, but only from habit. He just picked things apart.

Our relationship is something the world wouldn't understand, Kat thought as she locked the door behind him.

"Wanna watch Hulk now Kate?" Liss's stuffy voice drawled from the livingroom. "Dad fell asleep right away when he got here. I even made myself Lunch! Wanna bite? It's real good, I swear..."

She just nodded, cleared the plates and wrappers, and sat down. On the tv a picture of a peice of paper blended into a picture of a lizard.

"It's funny when things turn out to be something else." Melissa said, more to herself then anything. But Kat knew who she was talking about.

It was easy to forget.

Phoenix

2005-01-15T10:38:00.000-04:00

"Phoenix, you're on! How many times do I have to tell you this? Pay attention! God! Get out there!"

She scrambled, blushing a final application of rose across her cheekbones, poofing her hair and then examining herself in the full length mirror. She was thinning, slowly yet surely. The eyes that were once so bright and alive were dark and deep, intense. Telling things they should not and she wished she could just cover them, just stop them from divulging her secrets, just stop those eyes. They haunted her, her reflection of what she had become haunting her every night.

"Get out there!" He hissed, and as she ran by he slapped her on the back, a little harder this time then usual. "Remember Phoenix, you are the star of the show!"

The music started, loud, excited, drilling into her mind. Yet it didn't bother her like it had, the music was lost in the pounding of her heart. She was the star of the show, no matter what kind of show, she was the star, and all eyes were on her for once.

"Ashley, where are you going? You get your ass back here! I am your mother, did I tell you you were aloud to walk away from me? Get back here, I'm talking to you! Ashley!"

She slammed the door forcefully, dropping to the ground. If only she wasn't on the third floor. If only she could lock the door. If only there was somewhere to hide.

She could hear her coming up the stairs. "Ashley, godamnit, I'm so fucking tired of your shit! I asked you to fucking clean the house you ungrateful bitch!"

The door flew open. Ashley scrambled to the other side of the room, knocking the rose blush off the vanity in the process. She cowered in the corner as her mother continued to scream, "I hate you Ashley, I try so fucking hard to make things work for us, but I get nothing from you in return! No wonder no one likes you at school, you're pathetic! No wonder you get beat-up! I would beat you up too! You're disgusting! Look at this room, look at you! Ashley, look at yourself! You're fucking sick, you're not beautiful! No one will ever love you! Ashley, listen to me!"

She glanced at the full-length mirror. Years of being beat down and she had started to see what her mother saw. Her nose was a bit off-centre. Her complexion was pasty and pale. Her hair was frizzy and unmanageable. But her eyes, her bright electric blue eyes were that of a star.

"Phoenix!" He hissed from the sidelines. "Get moving!"

She didn't need to look in the mirror anymore, she was fine with herself, and for her mother, she could rot in hell where she belonged. Plastic surgery had rid her of the burn marks, therapy had rid her of the hate, dancing had rid her of the memories. She just had to start small, she could hit the big-time later.

She danced, she flew across that stage and the crowd whispered, Isn't she just marvelous? And out of the ashes flew the phoenix, out of the soot and dirt and reality flew the make-believe creature, flew Phoenix.

Temporarily

2005-01-14T18:12:00.000-04:00

"The number you have dialed has been temporarily disconnected ... Le numero que vous-avez appler sont temporairement débranché."

Thought so.

But then again, like it would matter. Kat sighed, slumped into the couch and began to fiddle with her electric-green plastic bracelet that Jessy had given her. How did I know this would match your outfit today? Jess has said. She looked down. Green. Always green. But never green outside where it mattered, never green in the way she craved it to be. And sometimes she wondered if it would ever be green again.

Disconnected. The only link, broken. The only ladder, snapped in two. The only path, paved over. She could call and call and call, but it only said the same thing, "Disconnected." She was disconnected from him now, and sometimes after being disconnected from him it was just so hard to re-connect.

Calling those "reconnect" numbers would only reconnect his phone, but could it reconnect two people, lost in a very small city, searching? Could it reconnect her?

The phone might have just been disconnected, but she'd been disconnected from him for some time.

Mr. Cinderella

2005-01-13T18:25:00.000-04:00

Maybe she thought that all guys were prince's. She had grown up her life learning that her prince charming would show up one day on a horse drawn carriage and take her away from her "cinderella" life. They would fall madly in love, and live happily ever after.

Reality-check.

It was time to find her a Mr. Cinderella. Someone who would finally treat her right. Someone who would realize her heart was fragile and not break it. Someone like someone she wasn't looking for, but had found her.

Cinderella looked in the wrong places deperate to find herself true love. Maybe it was staring her down from behind, like eyes baring into her flesh. She could feel it's presence, just was unable to see it. Wasn't able to understand.

She made everything into a love story, in a happily-ever-after. She sometimes made things into something that they weren't, but only because she wanted it so bad. And because she wanted that prince charming, that Mr. Cinderella.

When she lost her slipper, she lost her mind. She lost everything, but they found her. Found her lying on the floor. With a delicate, graceful hand hanging limp at her side. And in it, the other slipper. Her other half.

While it's missing pair slid away in the melting snow.

If It Were Love

2005-01-10T16:28:00.000-04:00

Her science teacher explained the laws of gravity.

“…And so if you dropped a piano from an inch higher, it will make a crash noise, right? And if you drop it from the window of Saint Mac’s, it will accelerate and the noise will be louder.”

Kat looked up from her doodles.

“What if you dropped the piano from a four story window?” Chris asked, looking her way.

Most eyes were looking her way now, so she smiled, not knowing what else to do.

“That would make a HUGE impact.” The teacher said.

Yes, thought Kat. Especially if it were love.

Double Cream, No Sugar

2005-01-09T11:41:00.000-04:00

It's paint was even more chipped now then before as Kat took it out from the back of the cupboard. It had served what seemed like a life-sentence of not being put to any use. The pink eighties-inspired polka dots were still there on the teal background, the same huge dent missing from where she had dropped it one time going to give him his morning cup. The two large trophies were still there, and the words "World's Greatest Dad."

She turned on the faucet and rinced away the dust, ran it over once or twice with the dishcloth for good measure and set it on the counter. It was eerie, the way it sat there like it had not that long ago, but too long to quite remember. Kat remembered the day she gave him this mug. It was for Father's Day, even though like always, Dad didn't want any presents. But she knew he loved it, even though it was probably only from the local dollar-store. Kat could see herself smiling up at him, grin-bearing, wearing a little short-and-t-shirt set, with her hands behind her back, very proud of herself. He smiled, scooped her up into his arms and said, "Thanks Girlie! Now we have to teach you how to make your Old Man coffee like a real slave!"

The cup faded back to present day. It was older now. Faded, chipped, stained. Just like Dad.

She poured in the coffee, double cream, no sugar, just the way he liked it, and sat down at the desk for another extended session of writting. She drank deep, it had been a long night. And now, un-like before, she was actually able to drink coffee.

She sometimes wondered why he never wanted the little mug. Why he never called the little mug and asked it to do things with him. Why he never offered the little mug a place to stay or to come with him. Why he left the little mug behind.

But at least now it kept her company.

World of Her Own

2005-01-09T02:35:00.000-04:00

Kat had sat there so long. Too long maybe. Her back ached in that little arch area right above her ass and right below her shoulders. Her fingers hurt from typing and there was a sweaty indent from her watch on her arm.

There was no one to talk to. Home alone, left with the echoes. Left with the TV on full-blast and the rap music blaring. She was afraid. Not so much of robbers or her neighbors persay, but of things scarier then that. Of the echoes.

She cut herself a piece of cheese. It was sort of sickning at 2:41 in the morning, but relieving in the fact that cheese was familiar. It was also a dairy product, but that is another story.

Comtemplating many things, all except going to bed, Kat decided she was pulling an all-night-er. She got comfortable in the uncomfortable wooden chair. This would be a long night.

Sometimes it seemed like that. Just dragging-on time. Always living for the weekends, then wasting them, then living for the weekends again. It seemed her whole life would be wasted waiting for something she would waste.

And yet she was only a grain of sand in the desert. On a planet far beyond the likes of things we have come to know and understand. She sat at the desk all alone on a Saterday night, while her mom drank and partied and her sister slept on the other side of town and she was still.

And she was, and always has been in a world of her own.

He Turns Her Into A Creature

2005-01-09T01:14:00.000-04:00

Kat sat there in complete disarray. She couldn't even comprehend the words coming from him, let alone the thoughts running through her head.

The most common: How dare he?

Kelly Clarkson blasted on the radio. "Since you've been gone, I can breathe for the first time."

She inhaled.

"I'm so moving on, thanks to you, now I get, I get what I want."

She would let it all out. Some day the sun would shine again. She would stand alone in a feild and scream it to the sky. The birds would gather in flocks and fly away, terrified of this "creature".

She exhaled. "Since you've been gone."

She would get over it. In a while it wouldn't be such a big deal. Just some "dirt off her shoulder." Just another year. Just another synopse in this book she would call "Life."

"Since you've been gone."

She could breath. Just not when she talked to him. He rid her of everything human.

Love is a Piano Dropped From a Four Story Window

one more night

a picture is worth three words; i miss you.

i'd like to thank my...

trans-canada search

miss lonely

To be or not to be, anonymous that is.

new camera

lovely

I Met A Girl I'd Like To Know Better

But You Know All The Right Things To Say

The Strong Scent Of Evergreen From The Passenger Seat; As You Are Driving Me Home

And In That Moment It Started To Pour

Moving Day

Edge of Sixteen

Someone's Been Eating Carrots

I Know...

Hmm

So Here I Am

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Question...

the update on kate

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prayers for trudy

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an apple a day will get you an a

once in a lifetime

AHHH, a leaf!

i don't care if you leave me anymore, because most times it feels like you're already gone

bet you were expecting something great

happy bloggaversary!

with more hate and hurt then before

i'm begging you to be my escape

one little candle

i love it when it rains because then no one can tell that you're crying

well, here we say sneaker: a memoir on my wild night

What I Spent My Morning Doing.

Heaven's Not A Place That You Go When You Die, It's That Moment In Life When You Actually Feel Alive

Body Piercing, Boy Blunders and Blog-Block, Isn't Summer Fun?

Never Now, Never Again

Special Edition - In Which The Worst Camping Trip Ever Ends Up... Not So Bad?

Once Bitten, Twice Shy

Cool

If You Can Hold On, If You Can Hold On, Hold On.

Gone, Going. Gone, Everything's Gone, Give A Damn.

Everyone's Changing And I Don't Feel The Same

Cocoon

Karma

Thursday Morning Rant

.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.

Because As Long As We Can Love

Alice

Out With The Old, In With The New

It's A Long Long Getaway

The Dreaded Blank Page

A Checkup For The Soul

More Than A Feeling

Miss Me?

Fighting The Force

Wake Up Calls

Small World

Damn Practical

You're The Kind of Person I Hate

Amazing

Split Second Decision

The Homecoming

Leaving On A Jet Plane

Girl's Night

Lacking

The Parties Under The Bridge

Just Leave Me Be

Extra Tears

Mmm, Strawberry-Rhubarb

Running From Something

I'm Grounded On Sunday, Btw

Monkey Mittens

Me, My Spots, And I

Again.