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| Mood|: i dont know anymore.
Tune|: Audio Karate - Rosemead / Hawthorne Heights - Wake Up Call
one word.
Fuck. | | |
| Tune: Jack Johnson - Sitting, Waiting, Wishing
Mood: Relaxed
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Ahh, good ol xanga... been months... the world is different, people have changed, many life-changing events have occured... Let us see.. hmm m m.
Nothing much to mention... well nothing that should be released in public... ;) If you truly want to catch up with me then call my cell... lol. if anyone still comes by this page, then i would like to give you all a warm smile and a.... quick slap on the wrist. ^-^ get off your computer and do something more productive >.< good day peoples... >.> | | |
| Mood|: exhausted.
Tune|: Attention - All The More
consistant critical thinking induces creativty...
The question here to be answered is, “Why do people write?”. First of all, writing is something that is involved throughout all our daily lives. From the time we wake up, there’s a newspaper to be read. The function of the newspaper is to inform the local community of events and stories so that they are aware of what is going on around them. That is only a mere part of why people write, to keep others aware and informed. For a select few, writing has grown to be a pastime whether it be a poet or an author. Their purpose of why they write can simply be just to express oneself, or even influence others around them with personal matters. These certain circumstances reveal how writing can be used as a tool to benefit from; the same ability, put to different uses. Pertaining to writing for the purpose of information and awareness, it has been shown in the past of what results can come out. An author who can relate to this act is Harriet Beecher Stowe. While she wrote poems, children’s books, and biographical sketches, she also wrote ten adult novels. One that she is most known for is Uncle Tom’s Cabin. The novel sold about 300,000 copies within the first year and helped to raise awareness to the brutality of slavery. Since she lived in Ohio, a slave state, she used her personal experience to help write this anti-slavery novel. Her influence was so great that even President Abraham Lincoln noted her effort, and was also rumored to be greeted as "the little lady who made this big war": which of course was the Civil War. In the end, her purpose was simple, to reveal truth that society at her time was ignorant to see for themselves. On to another reason of why people write, others exploit the ability to write for personal expression. Writing gives an opportunity for people to explain the inner emotion of a human heart. In a way, you can say it is one of only the few ways we can “communicate with ourselves.” Personally, I can relate to how writing has affected me. In order to control and handle my feelings, I write poems pertaining to my own emotions in which help constrain them. I started a poetry book in seventh grade, and every time I would need to reflect on my own life and emotions, I would look at myself from a third-person point of view and write. A recent example is that I just broke up from a two-year relationship. The shock and grief almost took my life over for awhile, but I remembered my poetry, and wrote:
“3:24 AM… here he sits within the shadows of silence. His tortured heart expressing nothing but hate towards its own soul Slowly yet painfully pulling apart what was its true existence Meanwhile the mind remains within a fantasy, yet to be comprehended The victim can do nothing to aid his own demise, destined to suffer for what has occurred This signifies the surreal conclusion of love.. a fantasy that was once, a reality. Kill him now… for what he has done is contradict what he has believed in, True love. He is no longer human, only such a horrendous monster can bestow such pain on an innocent soul. Kill him now… So ends the chapter of the last hope of love, now begins the journey of hopeless eternity. A journey that will never end… … my endless story.”
I wrote this one night when I couldn’t sleep because of the denial I kept inside myself. After I wrote this, I realized what my emotions have lead me to create; a poem that summarizes the ideal way of dealing with this pain. Instead of suffering, I express it all out of my system into words of depression and hopelessness. For years I have been doing this, and it helps me maintain my daily typical life. This is one of the only ways I found that helped kept my negativity to myself, and to not let it affect others around me. Otherwise when I do need to “mourn” for my own being, I write.
Damn. I cant believe I found time to do a bit of research and comprehension on some random thought that came to my mind…Oh well. I guess it intrigued me that much… heh, im a geek. >.< lol… [ if only i had this much interest in my school work...] | | |
| Mood|:irritated...
Tune|:Something Corporate - Down
an antagonized soul, brimming with anger...
What you are about to read might have offensive content. I apologize in advance.
Ok, fuck this shit. Fuck that bitch ass shit of an excuse human... wait not even human... that living object that lives in this household. Causing my mom so much bullshit drama that she doesn not need at all. what the fuck is that. o god i wish i could beat the living shit out of his ass and make his ass CRY and REGRET ever doing ANYTHING hes done. FUCK. THAT. He htinks that joining the NRA and having "rifle magazines" around the house is gonna scare my ass? LOL hell fuck no. If i do ever get shot by his dumb ass, i will not fucking die until i beat him to death. with a fuckign stick, furniture, my sword i bought from S.F. chinatown., anything.... My mom would be so happy with someone else, but she afraid of tainting her image. She is such a good person, and i kinda understand why she doesnt want to feel ashamed that she is the only one in the family that would go through divorce... but it still isnt a good reason to stay with that bitch ass feng shui bullshit fag. instead of buying worthless 10 K painting all over the damn household, why not help her out with bills and shit like that. god. we got like 20+ paintings in the hosue now... wtf is that shit. my MOM bought the damn house, she should have decision on how the house is decorated. thats so fucking dumb... that fag would not survive on his own... well at least not keep up the kind of life he has now. him en his fucking drunk ass drinking en eating his heally fatty porkshit en hotwings. ever time i see 6-packs of 40 oz. drinks in the fridge it pisses me off. and then his ass oging to nuddie bars en shit. MAN FUCK IT I WANNA SOCK HIS FACE RIGHT NOW... I WISH I COULD. GOD. the ONLY thing thats holding me back is my mom... ... i dont want to hurt her like that....
ever sincei was little that bitch ass was never a father figure to me, that fool was nothing to me. his didnt affect my life at all but negative shit. i quit boyscouts because of his ass. i quit basketball because of him. omfg.. i could think of so much things.... man if only you knew how much of a fag he was when i was young, traumatized by him.... now that im grown up... ...stronger and smarter than him.... LOL he fears my ass, i love the feeling. you know its weird. ever since i saw his ass walk onto the front porch of our old house, i always felt a bad vibe with him. its like i could recall it so clearly in my mind... i could picture that fool... with my answering the door.. being the little toddler i was.... asking for my mommy.... how i rue the day he came...
Me en my bro grew up without a father figure... and we dont need him now... so if he leaves or not, it wouldnt affect us one bit. that bitch means nothing.
....reading back on what i just posted. ..... i think i finally realize why im the kind of person i am now. i never grewup with a role model to grow up to. i merely took life day by day and developed the way my daily life took course. i dont know if that makes sense... but i just dont know. I just wanna know why my dad was taken away from me and my family. we were such a happy family. god from al lthe damnstories i hear from relatives and cousins... he was like the closest thing to perfection in this cruel world, that isn't even an exaggeration. i just wonder how my life would be with him as my father.. someone to bond with.... god man i never fucking grew up bonding with anything but my toys and games... and... my bro. god my bro means so much to me. hes the closest thing i got to my dad... man i miss you dad... why did you have to fucking die.... fuck this shit. i hate it. someitmes life is too unfair... even for people like me who can tolerate ALOT of stupid shit....
I gotta stop this now. its jus killing the inside of me, and im man enough to admit im crying right now. fuck man. i havent felt this bad in awhile. i guess God put me in this place for a reason. An "obstacle course" built to my specifications... a contraption that gurantees my failure... the only way to defeat it is to take advantage of what opprotunites i have, and explot them. hopefully im right...and success will be mine...
...prove this struggle of mine wrong.
-ju[s]implicit | | |
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