In the Back of My Mind

Wed, 09 Sep 2009 19:21:11 GMT

Dear Journal,

This is me updating you. Life goes on.

-Destiny

PS. Where the hell did you go, shishou_eimin?????

For my Roomie

Sun, 02 Aug 2009 00:53:28 GMT

Dear Journal,

This journal entry is for my roommate. You know who you are. *dies laughing*

And on that note, I'm off to play some Guitar Hero and fantasize about my bro-tastic roommate. LMFAOOOOOOOOO (Sorry, The Ames. I'm fawking bored. You know how it goes.)

A Little Bit Controversial but Damned Meaningful

Fri, 31 Jul 2009 23:33:51 GMT

Dear Journal,

I try not to think too much about war because, really, what do I know about it? Aside from the my month-long ambition to join the military, it's a foreign concept to me. I've never known anyone who's fought/died/survived in a war so I don't feel like I have any grounds to voice my opinions on. It's not as if I'm afraid to speak up... I've just got nothing to speak on.

As is extremely apparent, I'm a music whore. I love a wide variety of music in a wide variety of styles, which means I'm more apt to stumble across diverse songs. (If you're wondering what one has to do with the other, I'll get there.) As it stands, I've stumbled across a whole clusterfuck of songs dedicated to the war. Be it for or against it, they've got it. They've got songs dedicated to soldiers and songs scolding soldiers; they've got songs about loving a soldier and songs about the horror of warfare... It's all very new to me. Because it's all so new to me, I try not to reccommend any songs from that category.

As it stands, I can't not rec this one. I'm all about passion when it comes to music. When a song sparks any sort of strong emotion in me, be it hate or sadness, I feel that it has meaning. This one definitely ignites something. So, to those of you who are willing to hear a post-war song that's a fine mesh of "for" and "against" than I've got one for you...

Warning: It depresses the shit out of me and gives me goosebumps.

Let me know what you all think!

-D

Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PpnWgCVfAxw

Fri, 31 Jul 2009 22:54:34 GMT

Heya, I'm back in the hiz-house for the weekend. My laptop went on the fritz (and by "fritz" I mean my clumsy ass tripped over the cord, dropped it, and cracked the screen in the process) so I haven't been able to catch up with friends in a while.

Just dropping in to say, "hello!!!!" *insert frantic wave here*

Oh, btw, I'm contemplating Twitter. Yay or nay?

-D

Sun, 12 Jul 2009 18:18:38 GMT

Dear Journal,

Does anyone else think Good Ole Tom is the Anti-Christ? Just saying...

DUDE!!! Boondock Saints 2!!!!

Sat, 11 Jul 2009 21:09:48 GMT

Okay, I'm majorly excited right now! Why, you ask? The Boondock Saints II: All Saints Day movie has officially been set for release! We're talking a trailer release date AND an in-theater release date! For all you fo-mos who give a flying fuck, mark July 25, 2009 (3:30 pm) on your calendar for the world-wide release of the trailer and November 1, 2009 (All Saints Day!) for the official release of the movie!

Not excited? It's a cult-hit sequel, hombres!! The first Boondock Saints was like a gay action porn with guns! Bromance, people, bromance! Seriously, it's all there in the subtext. What HOT thirty-something Irish man would still choose to live with his twin brother in a tiny one-room apartment if there wasn't something going on? And for those of you that never got the privilege of seeing the bonus material on the unrated DVD version...

Now, mark your calendars! Oh, and for those of you living in the San Francisco area, go to this year's Comic Con! Boondock Saints will have a panel at the convention with Troy Duffy (Writer and Director), Billy Connolly (Ill Duce), Norman Reedus (Murphy MacManus), Sean Patrick Flanery (Connor MacManus), Julie Benz (Detective exclusive to BDS 2; she played Darla on Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Rita on Dexter), Clifton Collins Jr. (MacManus cousin exclusive to BDS 2; he played a main villain on the new Star Trek movie), and David Della Rocco (MacManus brothers' closest friend). Even if you know virtually de nada about Boondock Saints, go anyway! They're having drinks afterward with the MacManus twins. It's not everyday that you get to get drunk with famous people.

Hell yeah!

-D

A List

Fri, 10 Jul 2009 18:32:19 GMT

Dear Journal,

I've made a list of interesting things I've seen or done since my three week vacation started. Hells yeah!

1.) SEEN: My next-door neighbor's face... finally!
2.) DONE: A day-long trip to the country side
3.) SEEN: more porn-filled fiction than Hugh Heffner's journal entries
4.) DONE: made breakfast without burning it
5.) SEEN: my childhood getaway. It's gorgeously overgrown and filled with wild flowers
6.) DONE: volunteered at my S.O's work; I helped a bunch of hoity-toity folks view really bad art.
7.) SEEN: really bad art
8.) DONE: inherited a business via K's will
9.) SEEN: two tattooed men making out in Boston
10: DONE: took pictures of it. XD
11.)SEEN: Seasons 1, 2, and part of three of Supernatural
12.)DONE: I started sketching again. I drew a deranged-looking cat-person wearing a bandana. It looks startlingly like my cat gone wrong.
13.)SEEN: Norman Reedus' photography... loved it. Now I need to save up $500 to buy one of the ones taken in a Moscow prison
14.)DONE:Saved up $368.22 for it so far
15.)SEEN:maggot-infested Pot Roast
16.)DONE: threw up when I realized it was half-eaten
17.)SEEN: the beach with JBJ
18.)DONE: Rented a boat and road out a little ways on the Atlantic to spread K's ashes while blaring his favorite song, "Ma Belle Amie" by The TeeSets. We got the idea from MY favorite song, "A Lifetime" by Better than Ezra; a song about a man who steals his girlfriend's ashes and drives to the beach to release them on the ocean, all the while playing his gf's favorite song. It was all fairly sentimental.
19.)SEEN: a thunderstorm start up as soon as we spread K's ashes
20.)DONE: a breaking-down session on the drive back, especially when "A Lifetime" started playing on the radio... ironic, really.
21.)SEEN: the movie, "The Proposal"... very good.
22.)DONE:made a mixed CD and put it on K's memorial
23.)SEEN:A naked women on the side of the road on the way back from K's memorial run
24.)DONE: offered her a ride and ended up listening to her life story for three hours... She lived in Cape Cod. No worries, I had a blanket for her to wear.
25.)DONE: had an epiphany that life has a dark sense of humor.
26.)SEEN: a giant black dog in the pond in my backyard.
27.)DONE: tried to coerce it into a game of fetch but it ran away.
28.)SEEN:had a dream about my little sister dying, followed by an extremely vivid dream about me having sex with a stranger... totally unrelated with each other but still rather unsettling.
29.)DONE: prayed that Freud had nothing to say about the dreams in my subconscious mind.
30.)SEEN: an advertisement for an interesting new show about an overweight woman.
31.)DONE: contemplated watching it... still might watch it on Sunday.

So, there you have it. My list. BTW, for those of you who are curious about the Better than Ezra song, here's a link to it because embedding on LJ friggen FAILS today: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kQ2QT88m_nk

On a Serious Note...

Tue, 07 Jul 2009 01:53:05 GMT

under cut for serious case of seriousness

Dear Journal,

I'm still not ready to deal with K's death but I figure I should at least write something. I've been going around for the past couple of days in a permanent state of blissful denial so the full-on grief wave hasn't hit me yet. I'd rather it didn't hit me for a while but I'm somehow thinking that won't be the case...

As you know, my best friend and closest confidant died a few days ago. He was killed by a drunk driver. Luckily, and I use that term very sarcastically, the driver was able to get away unscathed enough to drink and drive another day. Kyle was a gentlegiant of a man; he was a son, a husband, a future adoptive father, and a best friend. I'll spare you all of the "Days of Our Lives" melodrama but if anybody deserved to die less, it was him.

I've dealt with loss before, Fortunately, I guess some could say, I was too young for the full-impact to hit me. Now that I'm old enough to understand, I won't be spared that youthful sentiment. For those of you that have lost someone dear, I'm sure you know exactly what I'm talking about. It's that "Feeling" that haunts the pit of your stomach no matter how much you choose to ignore; the one that turns food to ash in your mouth, tdreams into nightmaric montages, and tints happy moments with shades of gray. It keeps pulling the whole Gay Pride slogan on me and telling me that "it's here, it's queer, and it will be around for at least another year."

The worst thing about grief, I believe, are the stages. You all know what I'm talking about? You've got shock/denial, pain/guilt, anger/bargaining, depression, reflecting, and loneliness. I'd say I'm somewhere in the combination of denial and anger. The worst part of that stage is how you treat the sympathetic, uninvolved parties in your life. It's like you can't help but snap at the people who come to you and offer you condolances. I've been on the opposite end of the spectrum; I know how hard it is to offer sympathy to a grieving person because you (Well, ME at least) can never figure out what to say or do to make them feel better. But it's almost unintentional. Some part of me knows I'm trying to ignore the fact that Kyle's gone, gone, GONE so every time someone comes up to me to offer me some sort of sympathy, it just brings reality crashing back. Instead of the words offering condolance, they just rip me apart all over again and remind me of how useless I am in the face of Death. Utterly fucking USELESS.

It's not about me, either. It's about JBJ, the man Kyle was married to. It's about their unadopted daughter waiting for parents that will never show. It's about the entire James' family and especially Mr. James, a man who will never get to hold or bicker with his son again. I was confronted with this reality at Kyle's wake the other day as literally HUNDREDS of people wept over his urn. I was reminded when Mr. James, a domineering man known for his ruthlessness in the business world, bawled and pleaded for his son to be given a second chance on Earth. I was bitchslapped with this knowledge when JBJ drove recklessly all the night prior in hopes of getting into a car crash and dying. As selfish as I am, it really isn't just about my grief.

A friend of mine told me on the phone the other day that K would have wanted me to move on with my life. As I listened to her spout the usual sympathies, I thought, 'No... No! If it were me who had died, I wouldn't want to be forgotten so easily. I can't think of anybody who would want to be reduced to wistful memories like that.'
So I'm not going to move on, at least not for a while yet... And I sure as hell am not going to move past the stage of denial anytime soon. I just thought that K deserved at least a little sign that I'm thinking of him; even if I am pretending like everything's still fine...

-Destiny

Purty Icon... lmfao!

Tue, 07 Jul 2009 01:09:18 GMT

Dear Journal,

Just showing off my new journal icon. Show it some love, peoples! You know you wanna!! Ha!

-D

What's Everyone's Reaction to This Guy?

Fri, 03 Jul 2009 19:08:00 GMT

What's everyone's reaction to the guy circled in the pic? Mine was semi-hysterical laughter brought on by a total disbelief of his face. Is he half alien???

Tue, 30 Jun 2009 21:42:36 GMT

Dear Journal,

My best friend died last night at 7:37 pm. He was only 28 and supposed to be a daddy. I don't know what to do anymore.

How to Know if Your Next-door Neighbor is a Serial Killer or Just Plain Weird...

Mon, 29 Jun 2009 02:52:01 GMT

Dear Journal,

What type of neighborhood do you live in? The 'Burbs

How far apart from your house does this potential crazy neighbor live? If I farted, he'd smell it.

How old is your neighbor? Um, mid-thirties, maybe?

Does neighbor live with anyone else? If so, who? No one, as far as I know.

Does your neighbor live with their parents? No

How long has neighbor lived near you? Four years?

Do you know this neighbor's name? No!

Do you know any of your other neighbors names? All of them!

Do you hear stange sounds coming from your neighbor's house? Never

Do you see your neighbor dragging strange items out from his/her house in the dead of night? Okay, A.) No. And B.) How can anyone see anything at night??

Do you see an odd assortment of people entering and leaving your neighbor's house? If so, what type of people are they? No one but him ever seems to enter his house.

What do you usually see this neighbor doing? Yard work. Compulsive yard work.

Does your neighbor own any pets? Not that I know of... he may have some fish or something...

Does your neighbor own any sort of unmarked van? No, he actually drives a really nice Audi

What type of car does your neighbor drive? FAIL on my part. lol An Audi

Is your neighbor unusual looking? I've never actually seen his face... He has a great pair of legs, though. It's like everytime I go to look at his face when he and I are both outdoors, I always manage to forget.

Do you smell unusual scents wafting from your neighbor's house? No, he's really tidy!

What is the state of this neighbor's house/apartment/complex? Really organized and tidy-looking. Nothing's ever overgrown and his backyard is like a paradise.

Do you see your neighbor messing around with dirt a lot? Well, he does have this fetish with yard work and shovels. I looked over today and saw him digging. Other than that, de nada clue.

Does your neighbor ever blast music? No, but I have when he was outdoors and got no reaction.

After reading the answers to these questions, what have you evaluated? My neighbor is either really secretive or really shy. Does this mean he's a serial killer??? lmfao! My brain took the detour route and came up with this conclusion: he's the reclusive son of an extremely wealthy family but got disowned for being gay. He has a job in architecture and designs buildings for a living, which allows him to afford that hella nice car. He's sensible yet rather shy at work. When 5 pm rolls around, however, he takes off that starchy dress shirt and slips into some mesh and leather, heading off to some local GBLT club or a night of anonymous grinding and sex. He may or may not be into the whole BDSM scene and if he is, he's a total bottom. The reason he's never brought anyone home is because he hasn't found the right person to love him... AWWW!!! But of course, there's still that chance he's just a reclusive serial killer with a fetish for spanish prostitutes...

Who friggen knows??!!!

Lmfao

Sun, 28 Jun 2009 03:12:43 GMT

*dies of laughter* How bad ass is this?? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bgd30bjQmes I'll never be able to listen to that song with a straight face again. Gee thanks, Ackles. lmfao

Le Groan

Thu, 25 Jun 2009 14:47:13 GMT

Dear Journal,

It’s Thursday which means… START OF VACATION! I’m sending up a silent prayer that my folks and I get along, and that somehow, a list of interesting things to do magically finds its way into my grasp.

Who wants to hit me up with some magic? Things to do? Things to see? Things to prevent an Apocalypse from occurring?

DESPERATE,

Destiny

New Phone and Vacation

Mon, 22 Jun 2009 17:44:04 GMT

Dear Journal,

I’ve sworn off of slash for at least a year.

Okay, I’m totally lying but hey… WHATEVA. XD

No, on a more serious note, I’m on vacation starting Thursday. (Not looking forward to three and a half weeks with the folks but meh.) I’ve got myself a new phone plus number so for those of you interested, hit me up for it… unless you’re that stalker from a couple of months back. Sorry, dude. I STILL don’t believe homosexuality is a sin and I HELLA won’t screw your cat.

On that note, peace out homies!!! Lol

-D

Ps. Saw the movie "Imagine That" for Padre's Day yesterday. It is the worst thing since Sliced Bread discovered it had a cousin named Toast. Cliché and way too UNFUNNY. Game ova.

Sun, 21 Jun 2009 03:34:26 GMT

Happy Father's Day to all you padres out there!!!

And on a different note, I want to apologize for my gone-wrong rant the other day. I totally didn't mean to write off the friends I made here online. You all mean so much to me. I'm just... going through some things. It's not you, it's me... (no, kidding on that last part. lol sorry)

You all rock my proverbial socks. I friggen love you lot. Forgive me????

-Destiny

Wed, 17 Jun 2009 17:20:08 GMT

Dear Journal,

I went back and read my entire journal, starting with the entry from over a year ago. How much I’ve changed… the things I were worried about then, my feelings toward people, my hopes and dream are all different now. In my subconscious I know that people change; it’s inevitable. To see it before my eyes, however, is an entirely different story. It’s kind of like the feeling I got when I watched the video of the man who took pictures of himself everyday for an entire year and then posted them in video sequence. The alterations were subtle yet astounding.

Am I maturing? Am I getting dumber? I know my friends have changed in this eventful year; I’ve lost many and yet gained even more precious new ones. I’ve gone from liking Japanese rock and Visual Kei to favoring slow Indie songs, trip-hop, and the occasional 90’s love song. I’ve gone from making fun of WB shows and watching anime to getting addicted to primetime television, horror movies, and low-budget films. I’m completely out of my anime phase. I never thought THAT would happen. It’s been, what, six years? I thought it was a lifetime commitment. And to top it off, my interest in all things Japanese has dwindled down to virtually nil. Wasn’t that my identity?

Quite frankly, it scares me. I made so many unique (online) friends based on my interests and fan base from a year ago. I’d put a year’s worth of stock into who I am online today and am only now realizing that this is ONLINE; it’s not reality. If I’m liked, if I’m hated, if I’m revered online, none of that matters in the great scheme of things. All of that energy I put into being myself and being LIKED for it was wasted. If I had invested the same amount of effort into the substantial world, I would have gotten a lot farther than I am now. If I had spent less time on my interests and more time working on myself as a human being, would I be a stronger person?

To clarify, I’m not writing to blame online life or anything. This is just… a self-awareness rant.

I’m a twenty year old young woman struggling to find herself. Online life is alluring to people under normal circumstances. Now take someone who can’t make heads nor tails of their existence, give them a face-less virtual environment, and surround them with a bunch of other struggling people with similar interests- you’ve got a paradise. But that didn’t make reality any easier, did it? After I logged off, after I’d had that enlightening conversation about my favorite character, my problems were still there. I was still a young woman struggling to have someone accept her because she most certainly couldn’t accept herself. My mom was still on the verge of suicide, my dad was still dying of pancreatitis, and I was still considered a fucking freak by the town of Agawam’s standards. Just because I had found a minor refuge by way of online life, it didn’t make life roses and chocolates again.

I can’t keep hiding from my problems behind my interests and this pointless online existence. God knows I appreciate the fact that I had it. If I hadn’t had something to do with myself this past year, I would have gone off the deep end. But I can’t live inside of my computer, ya know? Life is fucking scary but I need to channel that courage I know I have somewhere. I need to step out of my comfort zone and make reality my bitch. I can’t keep being bitter at the material world and avoiding this reality of mine. It’s no fairytale but it’s something I was made strong enough to face…

I’m not religious nor do I admit to believing in any sort of God. What I do believe, however, is that we are only given as much as we can handle. I’ve gone through all of this shit for twenty years and I’m still here.

I can’t waste it making an alternate reality online.

I’m a little too drained to think about it right now but I know I have to eventually. Every time my mind goes to that subject, this song I heard over a year ago keeps playing itself in my head. The lyrics are as close to an understanding as I can get right now. Isn’t that kinda sad?

So what does this mean?

-Destiny

Meme time. Participate, F-list!

Mon, 15 Jun 2009 17:59:06 GMT

Dear Journal,

Do you all remember this game where you wrote the starting of a story on a piece of paper, passed it along to another person to continue said story, resulting in a pretty obscure piece of fiction by the time you were all done?

In the spirit of that game, I’m making a meme. I’ll write the start to a story and for the fellow journalists that are interested, you can continue the story in the comment section. If a comment has already been written, just respond to that other person. It doesn’t matter how short or long it is. Go for the gold: make it crazy.

SUBJECT: Pedestrian rage

I dare you to continue...

Ped Xing: The Rage of Pedestrians

Chucky had had it. He was going to fuck that blue Ford up the next time it drove by him. He couldn’t count the number of times it had sped by him in a blazing trail of smoke and homie hip-hop but the next time… Oh, the next time it was ON.

He holstered his rocket launcher as he heard a car speed up from his position on the communal sidewalk. The weapon of mass destruction was rather heavy but the burden would be worth every ounce of discomfort he felt. The launcher practically trembled with power, channeling all of Chucky’s month-worth of rage and hatred.

It had started simply enough. Chucky had been walking back from a convenience store one evening, carting a gallon of milk and a can of cat food in a thin plastic bag. The air was cool, the sidewalk comfortable, and traffic practically non-existent. Life was good for Chucky in that moment; good accept for that low, insistent pounding in the air. He couldn’t quite make out what it was but it was annoying. It sounded like the breeze was having an orgy with drums. It didn’t register has a particularly loud bass until the accursed blue Ford drove by.

Homie Hip Hop.

Chucky hated Homie Hip Hop.

He had tried his best to ignore it, continuing on his way home. It was made impossible by the fact that the damned Ford kept driving past him. Once, twice, three times…

Were they lost?!

It didn’t just happen that day. If that were the case, Chucky was sure he could have just let it go; done a little stress-relieving exercises and forgotten about it. Instead, it happened daily. Every day he walked home from work, he was greeted by Homie Hip Hop blaring from the Blue Ford.

And today was the day they’d regret it…

Fri, 12 Jun 2009 17:42:14 GMT

Picture Daze: A Skit- Part Three

Thu, 11 Jun 2009 18:58:22 GMT

Picture Daze: A Skit- Part Three

(A day has passed and my roommate has gone home for the weekend; creative license, biotches. It’s early evening, twenty minutes prior to dinner time, and I’m sitting cross-legged on my bed, in the middle of a hardcore game of Solitaire. Norman is zening in his “Chilling on the Couch” picture, relaxed and drinking a beer. Scene ensues.)

Me: If they serve pizza and hot wings again, I’m going to flip my lid. *places king in an empty card slot*

Norman: Can’t be helped. It’s called a budget.

Me: *looks up* Of course YOU wouldn’t care. You get to eat whatever the hell you want. Christ, you can teleport yourself to a Chinese restaurant if you wanted to.

Norman: Not if it hasn’t been photographed. There have been times when I’ve been stuck eating noodles for days on end because of a lack of picture access. I’m just lucky you’re so obsessive. *looks pointedly at all of the pictures of him on my wall*

Me: *slightly offended* Hey, I only had five! I thought you’d be more comfortable with several other pictures to choose from!

Norman: *smirks* And of course it helps that I’m such a fox.

Me: self-flattery will only get you somewhere with a narcissist. *sneakily places a red ten of hearts on top of a red Jack*

Norman: It’s not self-flattery if it’s true, kid. And you can’t put that there. Reds only go on top of other reds.

Me: Hey Norman…

Norman: hmm?

Me: ever play fifty-two pick up?

Norman: I won’t be the one who has to pick it up. *takes a swig of his beer* You wouldn’t happen to have the time, would ya?

Me: *glances over at clock* 5:28 Ah shit. I’ve gotta get going to dinner. IF I don’t get there on time, I’ll have to wait in a huge line again.

Norman: For someone who hates their “shitty food”, you’re certainly mad-dashing to get it.

Me: *starts putting away cards and pulling on sneakers* Yeah well, you try being smooched into between Job Corps students.

Norman: *gets up from his couch and brushes off his pants*

(Norman places his beer on the coffee table near the couch and turns to look at me.)

Norman: you could take me with you.

Me: *stops tying shoelace* you mean in the outside world??

Norman: *looks contrite* Well… yeah.

Me: How the hell am I going to explain a talking picture to my friends? Not to mention, you fidget like a motherfucker. Not a second goes by that you aren’t almost burning up your paper home by lighting up a cigarette- what, is that the twentieth time today?- and when you aren’t smoking, you’re chewing SOMETHING.

Norman: *glares and raises his voice* It’s not my fault you keep me cooped up this fucking room ALL DAY! I’m sick of seeing these ugly walls. Tan and pink? Who chose the color scheme, Martha Stewart’s evil stepsister? I need some space!

Me: *goes for angry but starts laughing uncontrollably*

Norman: what?! This is funny to you?!

Me: no! Well, kinda…. *snorts*

Norman:*places hand on his hip and scowls* You’re lucky I’m in my “Chill” picture or I’d fuck a bitch up.

Me: no, okay, okay. I’m sorry. It just sounds like one of those cheesy arguments on Soap Operas-

Norman: *starts to get seriously pissed* Look, I-

Me: *interrupts* No, I really get it. If I were you, I wouldn’t want to be stuck in some strange person’s room all day. I seriously get it. So, how are we going to make this work? How can I bring you out into the outside world and not get National Enquirer!ed for it?

Norman: *still looks pissed but relaxes a little bit. He is, after all, in his “Chill” picture.* You can show me to a close friend you trust and just sit with them for dinner…

Me: What if someone else sits with us? *goes back to tying my shoes*

Norman: I don’t know… I’ll be quiet, I guess.

Me: *looks up in disbelief* Quiet?

Norman: We’ll work out the details as we go along. Just get me out of this room!

Me: *starts putting my keys and wallet into my olive green side bag* What picture do you want to explore the world in or should I bring multiples?

(Norman begins picking up after himself, making sure everything is the way it was before he “haunted” the picture. He had told me earlier that if things were too drastically different, it would fuck up the “cosmic connection” or whatever the hell. I wasn’t too concerned at the time to pay attention. Norman finishes up and then looks over his pictures, thinking.)

Norman: Pack the one where I’m smoking. I might need a cig later… Oh, and the one where I’m wearing the fedora hat and checkered shirt.

Me: You smoke in almost all of them!

Norman: *exasperated* The one on the left

(I put ChainSmoking! Norman and IndieGuy! Norman in my pack, careful not to wrinkle them in the process. Norman looks a little self-conscious as I peel him off of the wall, fidgeting and biting his nails. For Chill! Norman, he’s definitely uptight.)

Me: *heading toward my door* What?

Norman: What do you mean “what?”

Me: You’re squirming all over the place. What’s the matter?

(I check the hallway, making sure it’s empty, before exiting my room and heading down the stairs and out of the dorm. Chill!Norman is tucked safely under my arm.)

Norman: *whispers* This is the first time I’ve been to Massachusetts as a picture. I’m just a little… perplexed, ya know? It’ll go away.

Me: *walks toward the cafeteria, nodding at a classmate* Heya.

Classmate: Sup?

Me: *laughs* nothing much

(We both go our separate ways. I finally arrive at the cafeteria and stop just short of the door.)

Norman: what are you waiting for? Why did you stop? *looks around, as if expecting something terrible to pop out at us*

Me: There’s a huge fucking line!

TBC

Chill! Norman Indieguy! Norman
Chain-smoking! Norman

To My F-List: Thoughts on David Carradine?

Fri, 05 Jun 2009 18:44:37 GMT

Dear LJ F-List,

Yeah, yeah. Two updates in one day. Sign of no life? I think not! I’m just bored and A Plus offers nothing but the ‘net. To those of you on my f-list that keep seeing my lovely journal pop up, no worries… the weekend offers reprieve. Lol

But seriously, there is something “serious” I wanted to discuss. What are your thoughts on David Carradine’s death? Did he really die because of autoerotic asphyxiation? I don’t know whether to laugh or feel bad. Thoughts?

-D

Picture Daze- A Skit: Part Two

Fri, 05 Jun 2009 17:40:16 GMT

Dear Journal,

Here's part two to the rather lame skit I've been writing. I really hope none of you on my F-list that actually read this expect much from it. lol

Picture Daze- A Skit: Part Two

Me: Oh my god! N-Norman?

Masculine Voice/Norman Photo: *smirks* Live and in living color… *looks down at self* Well, not so much the color.

Me: Can’t be helped. My printer only had black and white cartridges. *reaches out to touch the picture*

Norman: whoa! You’ll smudge me! *backs away* I happen to have great pride in my appearance, unlike SOMEONE.

Me: Hey! I happen to have great taste.

Norman: *looks pointedly at my ratty Bruce Lee t-shirt and blue jeans* Oh yeah?

Me: Wow, you’re a dick. I didn’t realize you cared so much about fashion!

Norman: Nah, it’s just the picture I happen to feel like occupying today. Maybe tomorrow I’ll move into my Artist! Norman photo or the Rebel! Norman one… I kind of like the fort that comes with Rebel! Norman.

Me: *is impressed* You can switch from picture to picture?

Norman: *goes back to smoking and brushing invisible lint off of his coat* That’s what I said, isn’t it?

Me: Does being a total catty bitch come with the territory or is that your natural personality?

Norman: Comes with the picture. *flicks ash from cigarette and almost starts a fire*

(As Norman goes about frantically patting out the smoldering edges of the paper, my roommate returns from her restroom visit. I impatiently wait for her to finish washing her hands before accosting her with my proof.)

Roommate: Did you know that our bathroom roommates CONVENIENTLY forgot to stack toilet paper again. I had to make due with paper towels. *she sighs in disgust and starts for her side of the room*

Me: Wait! Wait! I’ve got proof!!

Roommate: It’s not that hard to prove they shit way too much for society.

Me: No, not about that. Although, that is odd that they remember the paper towels but not the toilet paper.

Roommate: Isn’t it? I had to-

Me: *cutting her off* No, seriously! I’ve got proof that I’m not schizophrenic!!

Roommate: Schiz- whoa, who said you were Schizophrenic?

Me: You did! But that’s not the point! I wasn’t hearing voices. Look! *points over to my Norman pictures*

Roommate: *walks over and stands there for a moment, not impressed* Great, Destiny. It’s Norman Reedus. I don’t know why scientists didn’t decide to make him the answer for every problem in the universe. *uses mock British voice* Excuse me, Watson? I do believe the answer to world hunger is… Norman Reedus. *deepens voice* And the answer to Global Pandemics? *switches to British voice* Norman Reedus again, sir.

Norman: You could market me. For every miracle I perform, I want half of the profits. *dusts self off and puts cigarette pack away*

Roommate: *eyes widen as she watches Model! Norman move about* Hot damn.

Me: *is pleased* Told you! I’m not fucking delusional. And! He can switch from picture to picture depending on his mood!

Roommate: Why is he stuck in those pictures?

Me: I have no idea. I didn’t really ask-

Norman: *looking disgusted* Excuse me? I’m still here. Direct all questions, comments, and concerns at yours truly.

Me: Why are you stuck in the picture?

Roommate: If he’s speaking, I can’t hear him.

Norman: Only you can hear me, Destiny.

Me: Okay, question number two: Why can only I hear you?

Norman: Answer to numero uno: It’s a fragment of my soul that got stolen with every flash of the camera. Do you know that old superstition that says a person’s soul can get trapped on film?

Me: Well, now I do!

Roommate: What’s he saying?

Me: I’ll tell you in a second! *turns to Norman* Okay, assuming I DO know that superstition, you’re telling me that you’re a soul trapped in those pictures?

Norman: Pretty much, yeah. *looks miserable*

Me: If that were true, how come you seem to be the only soul that causes its pictures to move and talk?

Norman: I made a bargain with some old lady in order to get a certain something, so now

I’m here.

Me: *rolls eyes* you’re really going to be secretive about it?

Norman: It’s not really your concern, is it? *sulks and starts to walk off the edge of the picture*

Me: *holds up hand* Whoa, wait. Okay, okay, Catty. I’ll respect your wishes. Can you answer my other question? You know, the one about me being the only one able to hear you?

Norman: Fine.

Me: *waits*

Roommate: *starts fidgeting*

Me: *waits*

Norman: ….. *starts rolling another cigarette, despite the near catastrophe that almost happened before*

Me: …..

Roommate: Well??

Me: Yeah, what she said!

Norman: you asked me if I COULD ask you, not if I WOULD. *licks cigarette and seals it, bringing it to his lips.*

(As Norman fumbles in his coat pockets for a lighter, I resist the urge to find a pair of scissors. My roommate is rapidly getting bored with her inactivity in my skit so she grabs her book from across the room and begins reading. Sorry roomie. )

Me: You’re going to start another fire!

Norman: *freezes*

Me: And would you PLEASE answer my question?

Norman: *sighs and looks depressed* Whatever. You’re the only one who can hear me because, number one, you’re the only fanatic of mine in the room and, number two, you’re the only fanatic of mine that happened to print out the accursed pictures. My soul was sealed into one specific copy of that picture and posted on the web. Once that picture was officially printed for the first time, my soul would be trapped in that one picture.

Me: So, if it’s trapped in that one picture, how can you photo hop?

Norman: I made sure to get awesome travel rates.

Me: *nods as if I understand* Alright, gotcha, gotcha. What if another fan of yours comes into my room? Can they hear you?

Norman: *preens a little* I’ve got more fans? Are they hot?

Me: Um, I’m the only fan of yours that I can think of… What? I’m not hot enough?!

Norman: You’re not high-class enough.

Me: Get penned, ink bitch. *is trying to think of a creative version of the word “bent”*

Norman: tu madre

Me: That’s what your dad said last night.

Norman: My dad is dead.

Me: ……

Norman: ……..

Me: Sorry, man.

Norman: I really need a cig.

Roommate: So, what did he say?

TBC on Monday

BTW, in case any of you were wondering, the Model! Norman picture I'm referring to is this one:

Picture Daze: A Skit

Thu, 04 Jun 2009 19:04:13 GMT

Dear Journal,

Because of a comment my roommate said, I devised a meaningless skit. All words, actions, thoughts, and ideas are made up. If any of this were real, I would die of amusement. With that, enjoy.

Picture Daze by Destiny

(**= actions, ( )= plotline)

Me: *posting Norman Reedus pictures on my wall* I wonder if putting these pictures up would qualify as a stalker action. You think I could get thrown in jail.

Roommate: *looks up from making her bed* Well, seeing as he’s a celebrity, I don’t think so.

Me: *relieved* Oh! *goes back to posting pics* It’s just that this one picture looks like a stalker photo. *holds up picture of Norman looking away from the camera in suit and sunglasses* So long as I’m not a stalker…

Roommate: Yeah, I don’t think you are. Some people even have life-sized montages of their favorite actors and actresses. Even blow up dolls and the like.

Me: *freezes, eyes glazing over* Life-sized… Norman?

Roommate: *rolls eyes and goes back to making her bed* Oh God, how’d I know that would get your blood pumping? Let me just sit over here and shut up before someone somewhere classifies you as a stalker.

Me: *jumps up and down on my bed* No… DUDE! How awesome would it be to wake up everyday near a life-sized thing of friggen Norman Reedus? I’d be pumped! *goes back to putting up pics*

(There is silence in the room for a few minutes until….)

Me: *standing back and eyeing my picture hanging job* Do these look a little low to you?

Roommate: *appraises work* Well, they’re really close to your bed. All the better for you to see Norman when you wake up.

Me: True! *long pause* He’s hot.

Roommate: *has gone back to doing her own thing* Mmm… That’s the fangirl talking.

Me: Fangirl or not, I find him FUCKING SEXY!!!!

Roommate: I wonder if it’s possible to actually fuck sexy….

Me: Norman’s been fucked, right? There’s your answer. And if not, I’d gladly pop his cherry persona! *long pause and then I give a chagrined look* I feel kind of bad speaking about him like a sex object, though.

Roommate: I’m sure he’s crying himself to sleep because you find him sexy. Oh, the discrimination! *clutches chest dramatically*

Me: *flops onto bed* Meh.

(Another few minutes pass with her reading and me staring in space… both doing what we do best. Suddenly, I hear someone sneeze.)

Me/Roommate: Bless you.

(We both stare at each other for a moment before…)

Me/Roommate: It wasn’t me.

Me: it wasn’t you?

Roommate: no, thought it was you.

Masculine Voice: Okay, thanks! Bless me, I get it. Don’t make a big deal out of it.

Me: *looks around* Heh?

Roommate: I didn’t say anything. *shrugs and goes back to reading*

Me: *raises eyebrow but goes back to staring off into space* I need more sleep.

Masculine Voice: you’re telling me! You know how many times you roll in your sleep? I can’t even get sleep because of it!

Me: *abruptly sits up and looks around* What the FUCK?

Roommate: *looks up* Hmm?

Me: You didn’t say anything?

Roommate: In my thoughts but not out loud.

Me: Well, what did you think?

Roommate: *looks amused* you can read thoughts now?

Me: One can never be certain in these situations. *shrugs* Might as well just humor me.

Roommate: If one starts understanding “Robot Chicken”, does that means they’re officially an idiot or just temporarily impaired? That's what I was thinking. Weird thought but nobody's there to judge me in my head, you know? So... what do you think the answer is?

Me: Depends on how much they’ve watched it and whether or not liquor was involved.

Masculine Voice: So, if they understand it and liquor isn’t involved, it makes them an idiot?

Me: *absentmindedly* Or a temporary one.

Masculine Voice: What if they’re actually extremely smart, with an IQ of, like, 187?

Me: *ponders* Well, you’ve got to think about the demographics. What genius would sit down to enjoy 20-something minutes of fart jokes and imitations?

Masculine Voice: Watching an immature show doesn’t relate to a person’s intelligence. Just because you choose to watch 90210 doesn’t make you a California Valley Girl, does it?

Me: Why would you watch 90210 unless your interests twisted in that direction? No sane person would willingly subject themselves to a show they didn’t relate to in some way.

Masculine Voice: Relate to in some way?! That’s like saying because you like boats, you’re a Christian. Or because you watch “The Muppets”, you’re a pedophile. Since when do our interests dictate our intelligence level or lifestyle? Our hobbies don’t constitute our beliefs or our integrity.

Me: But what if one of your hobbies is chopping up people into little bits and hiding them on said boat? Wouldn’t THAT affect your integrity?

Masculine Voice: That’s an extreme scenario. We’re talking about television preference relating to intelligence, not serial killing hobbies relating to integrity. The fact of the matter is that what you choose to watch has nothing to do with how you choose to act.

Me: What fact? All I hear are opinions based on nothing more than shit you believe! I had a point. The fact that YOU changed the subject means you know I had a point and you felt threatened!

Masculine Voice: You didn’t have a point! All you’re doing is twisting opinions to suit your own idea! That’s definitely not a point, last time I checked!

Me: then maybe you’re watching too much Robot Chicken!

Roommate: what the hell are you talking about, Destiny? Do I need to get you some meds or something?

Me: Huh?

Roommate: *stares at me in disbelief* You were having an argument… with yourself.

Me: no, there was a du… Oh my god, you really didn’t hear that guy arguing with me? *jumps off of bed and starts looking around*

Roommate: I heard you arguing with yourself. *rolls out of the way as I run over to her side of the room, determined to find the unknown man* What the hell are you doing??

Me: Proving that I’m not crazy.

Masculine Voice: You’re crazy if you believe watching “Robot Chicken” constitutes anything other than a means of entertainment.

Me: You’re still going on about that? I’m telling you…

Roommate: Yeah, I’m going to go to the bathroom. Let me know how that hunt for Red October goes. *cough* schizophrenic *cough*

(Roommate gets off of her bed and heads into our conjoining bathroom, presumably to take some space and take a shit. I roll my eyes and head back toward my own bed, determined to give up on “finding” the owner of this mysterious voice. If I AM crazy, I’d rather not find out.)

Masculine Voice: *heaves a sigh* Maybe I shouldn’t have come off the way I did. I’m sorry. Truce?

Me: ………….

Masculine Voice: What?

Me: *groans and smooches face into pillow* I’m going to ignore you. You're obviously not real, bro.

Masculine Voice: *sounds offended* that’s really rude! Of course I’m real! What, because I’m paper, I’m not worthy enough to be talked to or something? You’re the one who stuck me here!

Me: *rolls over and bolts upright* Paper? A clue!!!! *shouts at Roommate* Roomie, I figured something out!

Roommate: *sounding a little strained* What… did… you… figure out? NNNGHH. *mumbles* Phew, that was a tough one.

Masculine Voice: You’re so slow! I’m Norman Reedus!

Me: Another clue! It’s Norman Ree… Wait, what?! Norman REEDUS???? *turns around, looking for Norman Reedus around my room.*

(In my wild search for the infamous actor, my eyes roam across my brand new Norman pictures that adorn my wall. I peruse the first four and they’re all in mint condition. On the last one however, the full-length photo of Norman in a 18^th century gentleman’s coat, there’s something slightly askew. What used to be a side shot of him has now turned into a full-frontal shot. Norman’s face is pulled into a scowl and a cigarette dangles from his lips.)

Me: *approaches photo cautiously* N-Norman… Reedus?

Masculine Voice/Norman Photo: *takes a drag of his cigarette before replying* Took you long enough. I guess I’m not the only one who watches Robot Chicken.

TBC Tomorrow….

Let me know if it’s worth continuing. lol

Ganked This Meme from Budiamond

Wed, 03 Jun 2009 13:03:18 GMT

A Dream I Had: Book Ends

Mon, 01 Jun 2009 19:44:22 GMT

Dear Journal,

I’ve been getting into horror movies lately. Not gore films or anything like that but decent psychological thriller/ independent horror film smorgasbords. I’ve watched four foreign, one indie, and another mainstream all in the past two weeks. My favorite so far has to be a French-to-English remake “High Tension” aka “Haute Tension”. The ending is kickass.

The fact that I’ve been watching so many of late might be the reason I had this pretty weird dream last night. I dreamt that I was running through my backyard at night, desperately trying to find something. I wasn’t sure what this something was; I just knew that it was a matter of life or death. As a searched for this “something”, I noticed a dark object lying no more two feet away from me. It turned out to be a book with a picture of a Japanese young man’s face on the front cover. As I took a moment to admire how handsome the man was, the face started moving and talking to me.

“You’re just a human,” Bodiless Book Man spat at me.

“Of course.” I responded, tucking the book under my arm.

I started walking again, still in pursuit of this “something”, apparently not having found it in the book. I walked no more than twenty steps when I tripped over yet another book. This book had another man’s face imprinted on it, albeit not Japanese. His face was smooth and pale, masked with a tangle of coarse-looking red hair. I remember liking his cocky smirk Thinking back on it now, he was a rather masculine representation of this friend I have at Job Corps named Derek… although Derek isn’t too cocky, in real life. *shrugs*

So, I picked up the Derek look-alike book and tucked it under my arm. Just as I got everything underway to go searching again, both books fell out of my arms. There was a giant explosion of dust and smoke, and grass sprayed all over me. When all the bullshit settled, those two men stood in front of me, dressed to the nines in gothic renaissance clothing.

I took a step back and bumped into this solid wall of something or another. It turned out to be yet ANOTHER man, equally attractive. He was EXTREMELY TALL, almost seven feet, and solidly built, having muscles like a motherfucker. I think he had brown hair, though I doubt that detail has anything to do with the dream. I thought he was the sexiest one out of the gorgeous testosterone overload.

What was rapidly turning into a wet dream came screeching to a halt once I realized that not one of those Sex gods liked me… In fact, they only wanted me for dinner. I heaved a disappointed sigh and with one last longing look at the solid wall of beefcake behind me, I hightailed it for the other side of my backyard.

As I ran, my life didn’t flash before my eyes. Odd, considering the life-threatening danger I was in. No, instead I kept thinking about signing up for a book club and whether or not the fact that I was currently getting chased by psychopathic book monsters helped me to get a discount on comic books.

I ran out of breath fast. When I did, they were on me like flies on shit…. (Okay, that’s a rather unflattering analogy, considering they’d be the flies and I’d be… yeah.)

They surrounded me and my choicest preference, Beefcake, brought me to the ground. Impending doom was looming for me, ladies and gents. My dream self didn’t fight back. In fact, I just laid there, smiling like a douche up at Beefcake and even waved at the Derek look-alike. Just as Derek look-alike was about to take a hunk out of my neck, the otherwise silent Asian Hottie stopped him.

“She’s not sexy enough.” I wasn't sure if I should be offended or relieved.

They all took a step back in disgust with the exception of Beefcake. He winked at me and I swooned like the fangirl I tend to be. “I find you savory.” He declared and scooped me up into arms, throwing me over his shoulder.

I wasn’t sure whether I should die of nergasm or die of fear. Needless to say, I DID die. Trapped in my visual stimuli overload,I was ripped apart by Beefcake. With each dismemberment of a limb, I was brought closer and closer to death. I could just make out the outline of the other two men through my sweat and tears. Derek look-alike kept shaking his head and I do believe that the Asian shot Beefcake a dirty look. It was rather hard to comprehend through the pain.

I remember the smell of my blood being ripe and reminiscent of the scent of paper.

The next few minutes became a blur as the pain became too much for my mind to deal with. I passed out.

When I woke up again, I had been turned into a monster. I wasn’t covered in fur or anything. I could just FEEL that I was something similar to the Bad Ass Trio.

In my dream’s conclusion, I was officially a monster that lived in my own backyard… A monster that turned into a book during the day and a predator at night. A man-eating book!!!! *que dramatic theme music* DUM DA DUUUUUM!

It’s not my entire dream but the only part tangible enough to tell. I was thinking of calling it “Book Ends”. XDDDD lmfao Cheesy!!!!

-D