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[Jan. 5th, 2004|05:49 pm] |
Mur. As part of my attempt to restart my life anew, and get out of the hole I've been stuck in for the past two months or so, (And so that my lj name is one I actually LIKE), I'm changing.
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) noevilliveon
Nothing there, currently. Still working on it.
But those of you that still read this, Please add the new one. It will be heavily friends only. Then I'll know who's actually paying attention (And whether or not it's worth it to keep bothering with this whole thing in general.
This account will remain up as someplace to put my writing and poetry and the like, but no real posts. In a week or so, most posts will be deleted from here, leaving only the poetic stuff. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 23rd, 2003|11:15 pm] |
I'm bruised and I'm broken. My heart has been scarred, and my body has been beaten.
I'm lonely......*sigh*
Mike...I need you.... |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 15th, 2003|09:03 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  discontent | ] |
| [ | music |
| | The Sound of Silence (The song...Not actual silence) | ] |
*sigh* So many strange conflicting emotions. Who knew a birthday could cause this much wierdness? It goes much, much deeper than this, but this one little thing kind of sums up a lot of things.
I have never in my life received a birthday card or gift from any of my family on my mother's side, excepting my Aunt Ginnie, who only gives me things when she's invited to my birthday party, because my mom forces her to.
But this year...I found in the mail a card and a check for $50 from my uncle Vincent. Who is probably the most unreliable and "I don't give a shit about anyone but myself" of all my mom's siblings. I mean...At least all the others have at one point or another actually WISHED me a happy birthday, proving that they actually knew when my birthday was. (Granted, they never sent anything..But I've gotten a few "Oh, wasn't your birthday last week?" kind of things on the phone..) But Vince...I honestly didn't think he even knew how old I was. But here's a sweet 16 birthday card...And a check. And he's really hard up for cash.
............Quite frankly, knowing Vince, I don't even WANT to know where that money came from. The less I know, the less I incriminate myself.
But on the flip side....My grandmother. The great, almighty, ever present, nosy "I must be involved in every action of both my son and my granddaughter" woman. Who ALWAYS has made a huge deal about my birthday. Always sends, like, 15 cards in the mail...And shows up ON MY BIRTHDAY, no matter freaking what, with, like, 10 gifts (Always useless and childish things..But still there), and even more cards....Well....No cards in the mail, no showing up on the doorstep....She didn't even call. My dad had to call her about my uncle's travel plans this evening....And she said, just as she was hanging up, "Oh, and wish Megan a happy birthday for me".
So when did the world turn upside down?
And why does my mom have to give me cards that make me cry? |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 29th, 2003|10:24 am] |
Why does my heart cry
Feelings I can't hide
You're free to leave me
But just don't deceive me
And please, believe me
When I say
I love you. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 13th, 2003|10:53 pm] |
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So. I don't know whether to dread this afternoon and evening or look foreward to it. This is one of the rare thanksgivings. Most holidays are spent with my dad's family, and maybe ONE representative of my mom's. Usually Ginnie, cause she lives in town. But this year is waaaay different. For once, it's not either here or at my grandparents, but at Ginnies. And the only representative of my dad's family is my Grandmother. So I get to see Ginnie, Isabel, Vince, Debbie...And a couple cousins and children of cousins. And I DO want to see them all. I mean, I love them. Dearly. And they ARE good people, deep down. And this is the first time in 3 years I've seen Isabel. And it's gonna be the first time in 2 and a half for Vince and Debbie. It's been about a year for Sara, but that's because she lives in Pasadena, and it's not to hard for her to get into town. But then again...Isabel, Vince, and Debbie ALL LIVE IN FUCKING DALLAS. It's not that hard to get from Dallas to Houston. Hell, Isabel says she managed to make the trip in two and a half hours. But I never get to see her. Every single holiday she says she'll come down, and then she doesn't show up. I was actually AMAZED to see her show up on our doorstep last night. I figured she'd bail again. Heh....It's kind of funny...She's lived in Dallas for 18 years. And, completely unprovoked, she says last night "I really need to get out of that city. It's sucking my soul out. Houston is the only place in this goddamn state that doesn't". Just more proof that Dallas should die and Houston rules. Hehe. Anyway....I just hope this little family gathering doesn't end up like most of the gatherings of my mom's side. In drunkenness, tears, and lots and lots of yelling. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 13th, 2003|10:53 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  awake | ] |
General news.
It seems I've been indefinitely grounded. I shan't be leaving my house unless my destination is school or 24 hour fitness, or unless I have a parent with me. *sigh*
My cousin, Matt, got out of the marines last week. I got to talk to him for the first time in 3 years. Later this year I'll get to SEE him for the first time in 6. (YAY!)
So Thanksgiving is gonna be interesting this year. We're going to my Aunt Ginnie's (the drunk one..), and my Aunt Isabel is coming down from Dallas...She's my Godmother, but she's not exactly the most reliable person. She's currently supporting herself through a paper route. And she often gets in fights if more than one of her siblings is with her. And seeing as both Ginnie and my mother will be there....I just hope she doesn't drive off at 2 am, pissed and drunk, again. My Uncle Vincent is also coming. He's a bit of a drunk, too. And then my cousin Sara and her husband. She's actually a really cool person, so's her husband. But the bad thing is the fact that they come with a 6 month old and a 4 year old. Argh. Speaking of kids...There's two more. Ginnie's ex-husband/now live in boyfriend's daughter (by his first wife, not my aunt), is coming...with a 1 year old and a 3 year old. Oh, and guess who got TOLD she was going to be babysitter for these four little brats? Yeah. Lovely. I get to sit at the "kids table" with 2 little brats and my uncle George, and try and keep them all calm during the meal. Thank god the two babies aren't old enough to sit at ANY table. Blah.
My uncle Georgie is in town. He's a sweet heart, but kind of difficult sometimes. He's hard to handle in public places, and needs looking after even at home so he doesn't, say, break something, or mess something up, or kill the dog accidentally, or eat all the food in the house, or just plain wander off and get lost in the city. And, being a Downs patient, it's really hard to understand his thought patterns, and you get to feeling really kind of crappy when he's talking to you, and says something you REALLY don't get, and obviously expects some kind of reply. His favorite movie is the Matrix, but he doesn't really get it. He's convinced that there's an ACTUAL white rabbit, among other misconceptions regarding the movie. But he talks about it constantly, and I just don't have the heart to destroy the little dream world he's created around this movie by pointing out that he's got something wrong. He watched the tape he had of it so many times it wore out and broke. He walked off the plane, saw me, and immediatly (and no, none of these things are typos, I'm quoting him exaclty "Meggio! You dyed your head and cut your hairs! It looks pretty! Like Trindy!". When I asked him who the hell "Trindy" was, I was told "You know, Trindy! From the Matrigh" (He's got major pronunciation issues, which makes the whole "difficulty in understanding" thing just THAT much harder.) And then he looked at me..closely."No, not only Trindy. Madonna, too. She dyed her head that color too. My favorite Niece looks like Madonna!". We also don't have the heart to tell him that Madonna is NOT his girlfriend. *sigh* Poor Georgie... |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 13th, 2003|10:53 pm] |
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How many more times must my family rip away another piece of my sanity? At the rate things are going, there will be nothing left of me by the end of the year. It's my birthday....How dare they take that away from me? It's bad enough that I've lost my real birthday to finals...But was supposed to have that weekend....My sweet sixteen, gone because relatives are coming down. Gone because "We'll need you to help with the baby". Gone because spending time with my family takes precedence over everything else, no matter how important it might be to me. A few hours on Friday is not enough to really have fun in. I haven't really celebrated my birthday in years. Not since my 11th, to be precise. This was supposed to be a good one..Freedom to do what I want with whoever I want, and the possibility of finding myself with a few friends and my father in a piercing parlor. But now that probably won't happen. Not when so much family is coming down. Oh, whatever would they THINK of my mother, letting me get PIERCINGS. What I have now is perfectly acceptable and feminine, but MORE? Heavens no. And this is also an important one...A rite of passage, if you will. .Keeping with classic American tradition. But, for the umpteenth time in my life, something I care about is smothered by my relatives. Sure, they'll probably try and "celebrate my birthday". I'll get a cake and presents. But celebrating my 16th with a screaming baby, an aunt who gives horribly childish gifts, and a grandmother who LOVES to criticize me, in a house which reminds me of my acutely absent grandfather, is NOT what I had in mind for this year. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 13th, 2003|10:53 pm] |
Meh. It's life. It's there. It sometimes gets in the way. It can bite my ass.
*apathy* |
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| I can't sleep. I doubt I'm going to. Anyone else feeling that way? |
[Nov. 13th, 2003|10:53 pm] |
Staring at the ceiling.
Yet another sleepless night.
Hoping for distraction.
Or something to make this right.
I've got too many secrets.
I've hidden too much pain.
I'm losing all the answers.
Before a single one is gained.
And if you've got a magic wand.
That might heal my hurting heart.
Then lift me out of misery.
And give me a new start.
And magic's not your thing.
I'll take a sympathizing soul.
A a few kinds words spilt from kind lips
To pull me out of my hole.
I'm here, but I'm not wanted.
If that changes let me know.
I'd give an ocean full of jewels
For the love that you could show.
( The song that's been stuck in my head for the past week and a half ) |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 9th, 2003|07:45 pm] |
So I'm having trouble deciding whether to classify today as "Kinda shitty" or "Not too bad'.
Pros:
1. Got out of the house for the day
2. No Grandmother
3. Cool friends of the family whom I rarely get to see. (George and Ann Broze, and Lee and Hardy Loe)
4. Going to see something in the old Grand Opera House in Galveston
5. Galveston Sunset
6. Galveston in general.
7. Interesting/funny conversation.
8. Playing with the 3 cats which officially belong to the Loes, the 2 cats which officially belong to the Brozes, the 5 cats which unofficially belong to the Loes, and the 3 cats which unofficially belong to the Brozes. Lady is a wonderful little adorable sweetheart darling cutie pie (God I sound sappy, but it's the only way to describe such a damn cute cat), Yokote is a HUGE, but cuddly sweetie of a tomcat, and Dorothy and Fuzzy just do the most darling things....And if I keep talking about the rest, I'll need to use a cut....
Cons:
1. Going to see some crappy folk singer/country singer/cowboy/storyteller bastard named Don Sanders. Horribly corny, horribly boring, and horribly COUNTRY.
2. Being with a friend of the friends of the family who invited us who just got out of federal prison.....For something as annoying as trespassing on federal ground a few too many times while protesting the war in Iraq.
3. Listening to too much of the"Love not war" and "Save the envirnoment" and "There are children starving in Africa, and YOU can help them!" propaganda that automatically comes with spending any length of time with Lee Loe, who is otherwise a really awesome person to be with.
4. Bad food at Landry's.
5. Not having time to do laundry. I am now out of any even remotely comfortable pants, and am being forced to wear underwear which have holes.
6. Discovering that no matter what I do, where I choose to sit, or how often I change seats....The best conversations are always taking place either at the opposite end of the theater aisle, or at the other side of the table. Grr.
Anyway. There was also a really cool moon on the way home. And an interesting conversation about.....
Bubba Ho Tep
An independant film which is slowly working it's way down to Houston, which I absolutely MUST see.
The Plot:
Imagine this: Elvis didn't really die. A couple months before his "death" the real Elvis had decided to temporarily change places with an Elvis IMPERSONATOR so that he could take a break from fame. Unfortunatly, his replacement dies before switching back, and now the world believes Elvis is dead.
So this "real" Elvis is currently in residence in a Retirement Home in East Texas. Where everyone thinks him to be just a retired impersonator.
An old black man (played by Ozzy Davis) has some mental issue which has lead him to be absolutely convinced that he is JFK. He thinks he survived the incident in Dallas, was secretly nursed back to health, became black to disguise himself, and grew old out of the public eye. He is currently living in the same retirement home as the formerly mentioned Elvis.
And that's when the ancient, cursed, mummys invade East Texas.
Now who better to combat Elder Egyptian Evil than Elvis and JFK? |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 6th, 2003|08:30 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  sad | ] |
| [ | music |
| | If You Leave- OMD | ] |
It's kind of funny, but I've found today that listening to bad 80's love songs while working through an endless pile of tootsie rolls, crunch bars, and peanut butter cups and sitting in a dark room actually does help one calm down and deal with things that hurt. Who would've known.
The only side effect is developing a temporary (hopefully) liking of bad 80's love songs. For some peculiar and unknown reason.
( Bad 80's! ) |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 3rd, 2003|09:11 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  content | ] |
I have sunflowers in my room. And indian paintbrushes. And small delicate wincups. They light up my desk, and remind me of pleasant times in my childhood. I have beautiful, big, golden, sunflowers in my room, and I am happy. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 29th, 2003|04:11 pm] |
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Being alive is nothing more than torture and pain, inflicted by horrendous and violent tools and instruments the like of which we cannot even begin to imagine. Every breath wounds, every day is death. I yearn for the release of true death, like so many others do. But in doing so, I would be a tool, an instrument, another mechanism in the torture of those I love the most. It is an eternal battle between selfishness or selflessness. Do I continue on in this world, suffering and crying, and being a support for others, and a minor device of pain for most, or do I seek comfort in the busom of Death's realm, and drive a stake through the heart of a few? I have to make my decision, I have to pick a path. I have to weigh my options. It does occur to me, however, that my existance causes more pain than my death, by inflicting minor hurts on many people over the course of a long time, rather than the truly small amount in the grand scheme of things which would be delivered to the precious few who would mourn my demise. I must think, I must choose. And I pray for guidance. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 20th, 2003|02:34 pm] |
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Whee! I'm gonna get red contacts! |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 15th, 2003|08:21 pm] |
A man in Germany has been arrested for training his border collie to stand on it's hind legs and raise one paw out in salute in response to someone saying "Hitler".
It's strange little facts like this that make my father so cool. Christ knows where he finds this shit. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 2nd, 2003|11:55 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | awake | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Canon in D | ] |
Insomnia, AGAIN.
Though, this time, I'm closer to understanding the cause of all these restless nights...
I think quite a bit of it is something of a physical response to my fear of being alone. Because I never feel quite so alone as when I'm trying to sleep, all alone on my side of the house, in the dark, without any computer or book to keep me company, and without being able to hear my parents moving around the house and reassuring me that there IS someone here. And my music isn't working anymore...I lie awake past when it ends, and I'm draped in silence, thus only serving to increase my fear and panic and anxiety.
*sigh* I guess my stuffed animal just doesn't cut it anymore. Bunny isn't really the companion she was when I was 10. At least she's good for one thing. At least I've got something to hold.
I wonder what would happen if I chose to sleep without her. It's been 13 years since I started, and in all that time only twice have I not had her. And both of those were when I was really young, like, 6. So I don't really remember it. It's sad, I know, the kind of dependancy I suffer from, and now I wonder if it really is a dependancy any longer. I yearn for something more, something that doesn't require my dwindling childhood imagination to live and keep me safe from my nightmares.
Solus fui. Solus sum. Solus ero.
I was alone. I am alone. I will be alone.
With freedom, my fears shall be soothed. |
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| Latin Rocks! (particularly when bored/awake in the middle of the night) |
[Oct. 2nd, 2003|11:45 pm] |
Spent the last half of Latin class translating Floyd into said language with the help of my teacher, and a few other bored students. Suprisingly, it was NOT my idea, but rather that of the easily distracted stoner who really doesn't care what goes on in class. Unfortunatly, only one thing got fully translated...
Postremo, te secem in fragmenules.
One of these days, I'm going to cut you into little pieces.
(literal translation) Eventually/At last (postremo), I will brutally chop (secem) you (te) into (in) small fragments of a body (fragmenules).
Though the exact translation of postremo does not fit the lyrics, the Romans did use it as an idiom which meant precicly "one of these days".
A better translation would have been "Postremo, te consecem", as consecere is "to cut into little pieces", but we prefered the longer version, sound wise. |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 29th, 2003|03:21 pm] |
And once again, I'm ill. I really REALLY need to a) start eating better b) get in shape and c) start sleeping better or I'm never going to get any better. *sigh*.
On a happier note, I now have a pretty, shiny, sexy new computer. Whee!
Although, XP home can kiss my sorry little ass. |
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