'here's to expression' and missing white backgrounds with black text.

i wrote this yesterday:

i wrote a list. but once i got about 10 lines down, i realized that its an old idea. gene-eu-s-i-am-a-kang-aroo did it already a while back. so i scratched that.

anyone else get overwhelming in-take time? like the feeling when there's 23 people at the bus stop instead of the usual one. and then get that overwhelming holy im boring, not bored, but boring time. where it seems like all 5 senses arent even working. if i had to choose one and only one of my senses, id keep my feeling.

no i wouldnt. scratch that. scratch and win. haha, im a running contradiciton, catch me if you can. ill ride over the mississippi on a foxes nose. to escape you and what you do to me. because i know what's best and whee! im alive. not for long on a foxes nose.

i wrote on the corner of my paper.
who writes on the back of their paper?
i like sculpter better than drawing or painting.
i really like design.
and i really like texture.
value is great.

let's do a tara:
me:
wait...there's a phone going off in this house, only i can hardly hear it.
ok, now for a tara:
clouds that dont move
straight leg jeans
nature boy
winter pictrue
holding hands
moccasins
16 year old life
a rose garden
cant wait-ing
grassy knole
view from a window
flats
memorization
memory
sad movies
sculpture
bus stops
/people/ at bus stops
painted nails
language
catchy
bunny
tada
eye contact
chandaliers
flow-y pens
infatuation
reinforcements
green green grass
ugly buildings
vulnerability
second thoughts
second chances
broken hearts
profundity
lipstick
achoo
kool krates
plugs
length of time
waste of time
laugh at me
binder dividers
zoom
zip
bad weather
weather patterns
i lost
dave harolds
red teddy
purple doll
easter...gummy bears
(a)
recognition
recognization
realization
jingle bells
carriage
marriage
ballet slippers
i want to...
archives
nicknames
gentleman
black and white life
that's it!

i found me a gentleman. he's the romantic sort and he has a collection of lovers, but not a single one. because of course, he's my gentleman. he rides my foxes nose better than i can because he does so much better than me at the running contradi...he's a gentleman. im infatuated. infatuation. a deadly secret and a catchy disease. spare me from my gentleman and ill send you back across the foxes nose. wrap him up for me at christmas time and ill give you a treasure map.

ha. this is what i mean by that overwhemlingly boring time. im not bored. just boring. eep. save me from myself all you brave hearts.

rambling.
this is so garbage.
lets try for something better.

i wrote this today:

mkay, so i was sitting on the bus. abram was long gone. (key point of information, well not really. but he's great to talk to on the bus. always wants to know more. and plus, once he leaves...which is after like...five minutes, then i sit alone.) which gave me time to confirm to myself that im not as boring as i thought, noooo im not full of myself. hope you can see that. and see this as a sort of personal accomplishment.

i wrote this last night.
then fixed it in my head today. man, ultimite test of the memory.
first of all i want to make sure you all know what a rhetorical question is. so here comes (dum dumm dummm!) the dictionary definition. love from, dictionary.com:

'A question to which no answer is expected, often used for rhetorical effect.'

'A question asked without expecting an answer but for the sake of emphasis or effect. The expected answer is usually "yes" or "no." For example, Can we improve the quality of our work? That's a rhetorical question. [Late 1800s]'

so,
who are we that we should get what we want?

got that? now, these are /not/ rhetorical questions:

what have you got of me to hold on to?
when is two /not/ better than one?

now for a quick recap. so remember, i was on the bus. and i had that little self improvement thing going on. my small bit of personal accomplishment of the day, im not quite as boring as i thought. and now you're going to read this and think: holy this girl here needs a life. but ive got myself one of those and this just adds to it. whee for self confidence boost. (that and my index fingernail has polka dots on it. heck yes!): abram bought another package of smarties, after he managed to spill them all over the floor of the commons and then, quite naturally, throw them all back into his mouth...so by bus-time, he was sick of smarties and dumped half of them at me. now usually i dont save the red ones for last because thatd be the deadly conforming to society thing that everyone tries so desperatly to run away from. but since /not/ conforming would by now /be/ conforming, for all the people who made /not/ conforming the real conformation...(blah blah) i nearly did 'conform' whichever definition you've got of that. and had left, a red, a green, and a pink. since i can hardly deny it cause im sure itll rack itself into my conscience, i sat stumped on which combination of two i should leave on my hand. green and pink: too american eagle-like. green and red: christmas...which, when not at christmas time, usually drives me to running and screaming in the other direction, but since i suddenly had that strong desire to do the opposite of tara..it was a possiblility. and then pink and red: valentines day. now, i didnt come to a decision. but instead for some reason, my fingers were magnetically pulled to grabbing the green and eating it. so instead of doing the opposite of tara, i did exactly what tara would do. split up red and green, and go for the love-ly way. and now i have a strong desire to say: sick women. this is so weird. i wonder who actually read that. but now im going to move on to something that i cant escape. o ! and a profundity!, natuurlijk

i believe i have it stitched into me the desire to capture europe, not just in a couple hundred photographs, but in this red beating thing of mine. just think of how much more interesting this all would be if europe was on the other side of that big wooden door over there, instead of stashed away by the millions of fishes between me and it.

i cant escape a bus stop. i saw a lady today..not at a bus stop, imagine that. she was standing on one of those almost-triangular things in between three streets. pretty much a jail cell for someone afraid to cross the road. since we were on a school bus, at a crooked intersection, i couldnt see anything coming up in the other direction..so when the lady flipped her finger and cranked her wrist a bit, i figured she was signaling a cab. with nothing better to do i kept my eyes on her. then a bus drove by. then she gave it a dirty look. then she turned around and walked in the same direction the bus had taken off in. she 'missed' the bus.

my own grammar throws me off.

and last night:

what have i got of you to hold on to? im writing with my pen that's your pen. freaky huh. i can still feel you shaking here. my sister says you're jumpy. you're casper to me. the friendly ghost. haunted for goodness sake. i swear you away. guess what. ive had this thought all summer that i have something that doesnt belong to me. that red beating thing. (unless we're fourteen and i live on juliet's balcony) the feelings that my heart has dont belong to a sixteen year old. i havent grown into my heart yet. tragic isnt it.

love,
easily amused.

ps. art class with lanar and john...ha, be jealous.