I haven't updated this for a while. So I'll summarize;

- been playing WoW/Guild Wars
- Roleplaying on Gaia
- drawn some stuff, written some others
- my laptop has tried dying twice in one week, I'm looking at a desktop
- and Steven is visiting
- Dad's still a cockbite

Now that we're caught up....

Just finished watching two movies, "Knowing" and "Day the Earth Stood Still" <-- basic apocalyptic concepts. I wasn't keen on DtESS because of Keanu Reeves and his notoriety for being expressionless...but I suppose the Neo face was required for the alien-turned human character (Klaatu? Iunno...). But my skepticism wore off as I saw that it was about something I personally support, at least partially. Saving the rest of the planet except the human race. Part of me is all for that plan, because part of the reason I'm as bitter and spiteful is BECAUSE of how humans treat the planet. And each other. But...we are native to the planet, and a part of her ecosystem, even if it's for a brief blink in the Earth's long history. She'll outlive us, this I believe.

As for Knowing....I was fine until all the religious referencing.

I'll make myself clear now, to avoid arguments later.

My personal belief is that life goes on, in some way. If not our life force or soul ventures from our body to give life to a newborn, then we return to the very essence of what life is (more than chemical reactions, more than electricity in the brain - it has to start somewhere, and I honestly believe that somewhere/thing is beyond all human understanding, forever). But this goes two ways.

At the end of the movie, Nicholas Cage's character's father says 'this isn't the end.' I have to disagree. As far as my understanding of Christian faith goes...there is no Heaven beyond Earth, therefor, the world being burnt to a crisp by a super solar flare would indeed be the end. But this is from what I understand, and what I believe. See, the Earth wasn't made by humans, or forged by human belief. Humans are irrelevant in how life on Earth has come to be, much as certain people out there hate to hear that. So if you want to get really technical, the end of the human race and all creations of humans would be the end as humans would ever know it, going strictly by Christian beliefs and what I understand of them.

Going by my heartfelt belief that the soul/life goes on, or returns to the essence of where life truly is/comes from, then no, it's not the end. Well, no, still the end as humans might know it, but not the end of their life. Hmm...I suppose I'm suggesting souls have memories. ^^; But that's human thinking. That a lifespan of a human could be imprinted on life itself, down to the very essence. It's an interesting thought, actually...might even explain some people's behaviours. If the way humans sometimes act, from calm to hostile, sane to insane, is because of the imprints left on our souls from our soul's previous journeys/experiences.

I'm getting off topic, I'll have to mull that one over. Anyways. Back to my heartfelt belief. If life/souls do go on, then we are really a very small portion of life that could simply meld back into the essence of life that causes suns to be born, solar systems to grow, make life, and so on. Yet, unless souls have memories, as I"ll just refer to it as, then life would still end.

...I kind of feel repetitive and like I'm talking in circles. So, back to point form.

Heaven only exists in human beliefs. <-- that's my belief. When the entire human race dies out someday (i mean abruptly, not evolving into separate species after whatever world disasters...) then Heaven will seize to exist. Period.

If life/souls go on? Then it still doesn't matter, since it's not Heaven, it's life. It's not fluffy clouds or whatever people's personal images of heaven is, it's a returning to the very essence of life, of existing, on a level we could never know, and I don't think we should ever know. We should enjoy life, and the life around us, to it's fullest, and when our times come, then so be it. So long as your life was spent in fullness, without regrets...actually living. Not right or wrong and whatnot, just living. Living is as living does.

And now I've run out of dialogue in my brain and will likely rgue with Steven about this for a while.

Till next time. ^.~

I often wonder about my sanity.

It wa a dream. My town was a grand metropolis, not some shitty farmer's town, and I was arguing with my parents. Some randomly generated way of transport to some randomly generated destination with a mystery date. I was not amused, especially since I had my life I was trying to get on with, That whole 'working and saving' bit. But apparently we get to go on a ship and to the carribean. I was close to saying no, I didn't want to go with my parents, but I also didn't want a fight, and I did really really want to go on a ship to the caribbean.

Then the dream jumps to the ship...I only see this girl's bathroom/spa/leisure room?? Anyways, confident in my looks, charms, knowledge, I walk over like eight girls in towels wasing their hands together is no big deal, and say hi. I ask a little one where the towels are, and she says where, then asks me to grab her a glass of ..some sort of wine...but halfway through us trying to get the wine, it turn into us finding a large platter of flayed fish. >> Yea.

But behind the fish rck I see an aquarium they have filled for viewing and using as subtle background for display cases, and I go all 'kya~' over the sea turtles, the fish, the occassional small shark. Then I let on about all I know about sharks, how even the little ones can be lethal, and...I attracted some guy who was in charge f the tank over...and ot rid of the very strange/wine/fish craving girl . Why am I thinking of Luna Lovegood from Harry Potter?

Anyways, dream skips up again. And we're travelling with a TV crew and some researchers and...I don't know, old adult people who just fall into that 'supposed to be in charge but will aggravate everyone in the audience' role. We were walking to the buses/vans that would take us....somewhere. I don't know where, I was just excited and wanted to go.

Now, here I must confess I have never been to the carribean, or on a ship. So my brain is making this shit up.

Inspired by the lovely graphics of Guild Wars, no doubt, we walk along a road, and I can't help but stare and gape in wonder. True. Me. Staring and gaping. How could I not? With fantastic mountains on the island, mists starting some several thousand feet up, a gorgeous blue sky with clouds, a festive atmosphere....

Then night fell. We were all walking in a line, and the guy from the tank was in my group. He was cute, tall, only slightly tanned, sandy blonde, i forget the eyes. Think they were green. I don't know, but he was no one I knew. And he was cocky. C-O-C-K-Y! Honestly....-sigh- Anways, we're walking up, and we're told not to walk into the grass. Cocky guy and I were joking about that, and then he an off three feet, which is when I saw the eyes of some sort of cat appear form the long grass, and then this lioness(???in the carribean!?) charge him. He got back alright, and...pushed her away???...and then she proceeded to try and maul the entire line, going up to harass the fuckers in the vehicles (one a portable house, the other a Hummer) and then she came back and was going for me and Cocky guy again...

...and the dream fast forwarded to after whatever fight ensued. Apparently there were only a handful of us left. >> And apparently the lioness had been toothless, clawless, and had somehow forced the vehicles off road nto the grass. o.o Honestly, made no sense.

So they we're all stuck in the grass, and cocky guy and I get to the hummer (which is now a portable house too?? you just stop trying to figure it out and just go with the flow in my dreams). We see a guy in the driver's seat, and he yells out at us that the drivers in the Hummer are dead. We look, and see them moving, then go yank open the doors....and the Hummer's cab is empty. >> Defnite Silent Hill vibe here. And we didn't like it. But there had to be a way to get in to the people and warn them that this grass is fucked up.

So we go through the window.

And everyone's sitting around and laughing. The fuckers.

So we try and convince the lady in charge (why does she look like that giant headmistress chik from Harry Potter??) and she calls poppycock on our bullshit, so we grumble and take a rest. Then the first jaguar appears. I want to say cougar, but they're definitely not cougar, they're jaguar.

And then I forget what happens until the next day(?) when we're out (the cab of the hummer has magically transformed to the box-trailer of some sort??) and the trailer's surrounded by kids. Normal kids, dressed in normal clothes, but all wearing a necklace with teeth or quills on it. I'm the one to talk to them.

I go to the gate of the trailer and lean over and say "Hey there. "

Little Blonde Girl With Enormous Lashes: "Hi~!" and waves.

Me: "What are you all up to?"

L.B.G.W.E.L.: "Delivering prophecies for our nana!"

Me:"Oh yea...having fun?"

Girl: "Yup!"

Me: "What way did you come from, down there?' i motion to where we came from, the town "Or up there?' i move my arm 45 degrees north to where the mountains are.

Girl: "There." confirms the mountains.

Little Boy Speaks Up: "We have one for you. One of us have to hurt you."

He gets this vacant look in his eyes, takes off his necklace and hands it to me, as if to confirm I am to recieve this prophecy. He starts trying to climb into the back, and the others behind me start getting worried. Where as I say "Well, prophecy is normally a very unreliable way to tell the future." And the little girl agrees.

The boy takes three swipes at me, apparently he is the one who must hurt me, and on the third swipe he manages a scratch. He sets back down and smiles up at me, innocent and having delivered the prophecy. I shrug and hand him back his necklace, saying "Eh, just a scratch." Then I lean down and give him a kiss on the cheek, and then the girl is sitting beside me on the gate of the trailer (....?how'd she get there?) And I give her a hug around the shoulders and give ehr several kisses on the cheek, admiring ehr ong eyelashes, then giving a last, lingering kiss ont he cheek, as if I was blessing these two kids. >> It was wierd. Anyways, the little boy hands me  gift, of three teeth, and tells me they're the teeth of some sort of turtle. I was sure turtles didn't have teeth, but I accepted the voodoo gift anyhow.

Kids left, I turn round, only cocky aquarium guy is there, and then we go back inside. Somehow my progphecy recieval was very long (??) and there had been more jaguar attacks, one of the cats are wearing braces and is an illusion among the attacks. No one's dead yet. I sit down, and the aquarium guy sees I'm exhausted and sits down too, then we're inches from making out, when bossy lady who should be in charge comes in and says we're not allowed to makeout. We glare and say 'fine' and lean back, then we see a jaguar about to pounce through the window. Aquarium guy says 'that's not the one with braces.' and I say 'No, no it isn't."

And then pounce! Jaguar leaps into the room, we get up to fight, and....

...my dream skips ahead. -_-;; Apparently it was a long fight, and we're all arguing inside now, but then my point of view changes and I'm watching the jaguars that are watching our portable house.

Then they talked. I mean sure, why not?

The leader, a very rugged and dark coloured jaguar, growls and says 'They aren't leaving. They cannot be allowed to remain here!'

And then you see a small army of jaguars appear too.

I think the view was going to go back to us finally leaving (why the fuck did we stay?) but then...

I woke up. Nick's been texting me pics of home.

My thoughts?

I really want to go on a cruise to some awsm place like the Carribean. I really don't want to be with my parents for any of it, or my borothers. The prophecy? Three swipes, landing on the third? That's a warning. I'd have three chances to dodge danger, and on the third I may not be lucky, I would lose something or someone, but I'd survive. The jaguars? What the hell is up with this long grass that it effects people so well and traps them there? And what's worse, what would have come if we didn't leave?

I think I managed to remember all of it to share here. Enjoy, I'm tired again.

I...am at a loss of words...and what to feel.

I've known for almost a year now...that my beta fish, Kouriin...was going to die. There were a few times he got sick and I thought it was soon, but I managed to nurse him back to energetic and colourful health. But this last time...I knew that he didn't have another round in him. He was hanging on for a few months this time, shortly after I returned from visiting Steven in the States, I noticed the signs of his ailing health. The paling of colours, even the drk ones. The loss of his gorgeous fin's length and luster. He was growing older, and I'm sure he's t least three years, which is a good life span for a male beta fish.

But over the last few months I'd grown used to seeing him a little lax in energy on the surface. Not belly up, and whenever I entered the room, he'd spring back to life, and manage a few morsels of his food. But he'd rest near the surface more often than before. And sometimes I thought he was dead, but as soon as I'd lift the lid to remove him, he'd spring back to life.

Some people might think me cruel for not immediately putting him out of his misery....

But being the type of person I am, knowing that if I was a happy fish and could still manage those bursts of what I think was happiness, I'd still have something to live for. And he had been my WoW fishie. For two years he sat beside me, getting upset over how bright my hair was compared to his fins, and keep my company while I waited for people between dungeons on WoW.

But now...

I got over the sad part. Got over the awkward part. And after a handful of times I thought he as dead, and he wasn't, I admit, I was getting a little agitated, and, said, I quote 'figure out if you're comin' or goin' already, for fuck sakes...' -_-; I know, I'm horrible, but come on, after six months? I'd give him a medal.

If I could find his body.

Which brings me to the 'at a loss' part. I don't know where he is. I had moved him down to the bigger tank downstairs. It's bright, colourful, has good oxygen, a water heater, the works. And the cat's never up there, s'far as I've seen.

I came home, had to go grab my bills and turn up the heat a little (lots of rain), and went to go feed him....and he was gone. There is a small space int he back of the tank's lid that's a little broken...and open...so....logic states two things; Beastie ate him, or he jumped out and suffered for teh six hours a beta fish has outside of water....and then was eaten. >> Cause I can't find the body. Anywhere. I checked.

And so...I'm not sure how to feel.

I was ready for him to die. I was very attached. But part of me had already let go. ... and Beastie, I'm sure now, must have ate him. And I turned to my cat, and said '...you know, I've never had to lecture someone about eating a member of the family before...so...don't be alarmed if I ignore you for a couple of days, mkay?'

And here I am. I just dont know.

So...Kouriin; I loved you dearly...rest in peace.

So, just had dinner with my crazy girl, Lacey.  She had some problems concerning a creepy worker guy and so I took her out. Turned out he was eating t the same place, and assumed I was her sister. Either way, after he left, I went up to the friend he had lunch with, and told him to relay the message that his buddy better stop harassing my friend, the 17 yr old girl back at my table.

This led onto a lot of conversation. Most of it unrelated.

Like my future wedding to Steven, she asked if I was certain I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. 'Like, you don't want kids, but he does...isn't that going to be a big issue? I'd consider that a deal breaker.' <- not an exact quote.

And for the millionth time, yes, I am very certain. When we decide we're ready to support a third life in our house, then we'll talk about kids, and I'm sure that when our financial situation is better, when we have our own place, and we're comfortable with life, then yea, I would be much more open to the idea of kids. Or a kid. Thing is, kids is something I'd never rush, because I was a victim of mistake. Mom had sex and fucked up and had me at 19. She loves me to death, I know, and I doubt that's how she wanted it to happen, but it did and here I am. But from those experiences I know that I'd want my kid to grow up with both parents living in the same house and quite happy together, ya?

Either way, even if it ends up that I'm rushing things, then it's inevitable. Personally, I don't think people would make mistakes if they didn't need to learn the lessons from them. So if it turns out we're not meant to be, I'll be heart broken, but I'm not going to die from it. It'll be another well-earned chapter of my life, and not the last one to be made. I'll remember the experiences I had, and I won't regret it. Because even if it someday ends, I'm not worried about it, because right now, I love him, and I know I'm happy with him, and will be happy with him. Honestly, I'd be missing out on a lot of life if I sat on my ass and waited and waited and waited and hoped. Some say it enriches the experience. Well, I can't vouch for that, since my virginity was more or less taken/thrown? at 16. So even if I decided to wait and see beyond all doubt (and count my wrinkles) now, here, today, I'd still would have robbed myself of the 'purest' experiences after good little girls get married.

=S my thoughts are getting muddled mid-rant.

Anyhow. That wasn't the only thing I was roaring to get out.

Nah, the other thing was beliefs. We were talking about the native american pagan beliefs compared to that of christian's, and honestly, both defy science and facts, and the pagan ways are much more believable. But either way, what I believe is different. I believe in life. Why? Because in nature, everything balances out. If a problem arises, nature does fix it, in it's own way. Yes, some species lose out, but that's how life is. It's intricately tied to death. Evolution and extinction. When it comes to applying that belief to everyday things, it's simple; I have confidence in myself, and I trust life to find  way. Because it always does.

And...that's it for now I think.

When my time comes
Forget the wrong that I've done
Help me leave behind some
Reasons to be missed...
                                      ___Linkin Park, 'Leave Out All the Rest'

I should've wrote it down when I had it, but now I forget.

It's odd how dreams work, since it's really your brain shuffling and categorizing your memories and experiences and all your thoughts for you. That's why dreams are sometimes INSANE and make no sense whatsoever.

Like last night I dreamt I was younger. Though even when I was 17, I felt old, so not much difference for me. This time it didn't include specific people from my life other than my brothers and father, so nothing romancy. In fact it started with my brothers and I and our friends (blank faces, just filling in space) were going for slurpees. And it included a fragment from an older dream where I told someone at 7-11 where he can find a certain kind of product at the Esso just a block down. Anyways. Started with getting an awsm coke slurpee at 7-11.

Somehow it changed to some sort of gruella warfare and my dad and i were part of the resistance, and I was climbing trees, scouting out for...shadows. =S So it was warfare against the supernatural? Though it kinda makes sense for Dad to be there, he's ultra-sensitive to ghosts, way more than I am. Anyhow. We were in this area which I'm sure is near the Alison Lake campground up by Crowsnest mountain back home. Just the way the gravel roads were pre-made and the trees seemed to grow in neighbourhoods of their own instead of wherever naturally >>

I don't remember how it ended. I was climbing a tree, and I think I was about to discover something crucial, but yea, I don't remember.

But all in all, I figure I can post my dreams in here too.

My head hurts. A lot. That's emotional overflow for you. Like radioactive poisoning or whatever. Morphs what you know and love into something terrible and ghastly. Like my mood. Or my heart.

Been reading some things from years before when my fiancee and I just met. It was making me laugh, kind of making my eyes burn because none of us back then could write as well as we do now. But I have to admire the gayness and ongoing imaginations we had. Random as fuck, but somehow we were either on the same page, or quite willing to jump group to the next one so we were.

And now I'm coming across things that made me leave that group of people for a while. Things like discovering the preset family/friend of the group. The preset life and universe I felt like I was an intruder on. I remember that's why I first left. I was an outsider, these people clearly had a long history with each other. I'm just filling up space. And just a toy for one of them.

Reading back on it now, my feelings have changed from feeling like an intruder, to being outright offended and saddened...and jealous. Of a make believe person and relationship from over two years ago.

Ridiculous.

I read about a ring. And I think 'My character was never given a ring...never properly proposed to...nothing.' I always seemed to be just coming on the tide of some mess, and getting the leftovers, story wise. And when I tried to make the best of it, it disappeared. Every time I tried to get it back, it was gone again.

And I can't remember if that's my fault or his. Probably a little of both, because in the beginning, neither of us knew for certain the feelings for the other.

It brings up doubts and insecurities. Not about the relationship now, I'm firm in my belief of what it's become. And I know I shouldn't dwell, especially about a fantastical past that really should never have been what I based a relationship off of anyways. But to err is human, and unfortunately, I'm quite human.

I was a horrible person back then. I should be thankful every day that I have what I have now. Because things could have turned out considerably worse.

But I can't help it.

And it comes up again and again and again.

I'm jealous. Horribly jealous. Something I wasn't ever afflicted with before I met Eric, before I started slaving my soul to Gaia and WoW, trying to escape the horrid reality I had gotten myself into. I was a coward, and weak. And it still pisses me off.

By now everyone will say 'It's fine, it's over.' Or others will say 'Move the fuck on already!'

I think part of me is saying those things. I know I wish I could let it all go.

I'm jealous of people who have family they can talk normally with and spend time with without getting into a heated argument. I'm jealous of people who could go home after school and come back again the next day all smiles. I'm jealous of my friends online who disappear because they actually have real lives they enjoy going back to. I'm jealous because they have people they can share that life with.

Maybe I'm finally cracking. I don't know.

I seem pretty mellow at work until Dad starts getting pissed about something, or some loser is trying to ask me out though I've told him I'm engaged countless times. Even in front of my brothers and Jeremy (whenever they aren't busy and have time/want to hang out) I cheer up some, and manage not to be a party crasher. But then I get home...and it's just me and the cat and the dying fish. And my laptop.

Hobbies? I find no cheer in them. They don't distract me. Motivation is coming and going, and is usually more gone than coming back.

-_- this is supposed to be my journal, yet I'm answering questions and feeling I have to defend myself against whoever reads it.

Yes, I'm quite aware it's publicly posted on line.

-sigh- Jealousy aside, I'm worried and frustrated. I want to be home, and that means with Steven. Unfortunately that means rushing things I had thought would be different.

To get down there, we have to be married within a certain amount of time of me moving down there. No, it doesn't have to be a huge ceremony, but it does have to be officially done, with witnesses, to get the certificate.

-_-;

I wanted a semi-big wedding. I always dreamed of something with friends and family members who supported us. Outside on a sunny day, beautiful yet natural. I wanted to be beautiful, and to have finally found all I needed; my lover, and friend and family who loved us.

I don't want it to be rushed. Even so, I won't tell my parents, because I don't want that fight. I already know what they'll say. I already know how what they say will make me feel, and just ruin whatever strength I summon to marry anyways. And even if they don't say it, I'll still know.

And this is where people start saying I'm wrong, I'm horrible, they have a right to know....

Technically they forfeited that right almost a decade ago. I have my reasons for being as harsh and firm with my parents as I am.

There's other things they don't know, and won't ever find out.

I thought I had decided that after I had moved, I'd ring them up and let them know what was going on. Figured the distance would be a buffer zone between their rage and my bitterness. I'd feel guilty, yea. But that's not entirely my fault. I just don't have the faith that my parents can respect my decisions and wish me well and wish us happiness. I know they love me. And I also know they....

My life was never easy, I don't know why I bothered to think it would be now. I honestly don't know. I get my hopes up high, easilly enough, and each time they get kinda dashed and beaten up. Why do I keep getting back up to hope again?

But I'm tired of loving in the dark. I'm tired of having to lie to people who love me. At least to Mom.

Dad's different. I respect him for some things, and hate him for a lot of others.

I remember one night, we were making dinner together, and we ended up talking. I'm pretty sure I was grounded (I always was), and we were discussng why I was grounded. Talking back, he says, defending my position, I say. We never got along, from day one when I found him in mom's bed and yanked his toes apart. But the conversation moved on to why he was so damn controlling over me having guys as friends, and he said that he hoped someday I wouldn't hate him, and that he'd at least get to walk me down the aisle.

Of course the naiive girl that was me promised him this.

Does he remember? Was it a ploy? Was he trying to fuck with me? He always played mind games with me, and it was hard to tell when he was honest, and not being a coniving asshole.

Do I honour it though? Do I spite him?

I don't know.

I don't know if they'd even want to be at a wedding I don't consider to be mine.

-sigh- I have a very strong view on it apparently. And I'm incredibly upset. And I'm whining.

...

What will my thoughts be, if I wear the same dress twice?

What if this first wedding, turns out better and more fun the the second one?

What if this wedding is ruined by my negative view on it and paranoia of his family's view on it?

What if my parents spoil it for me?

Wouldn't that just be spoiling it for myself?

...........................................................................................

I don't know.

I know I want to marry him. I just didnt think it would be a rushed, tiny little secret wedding.

His parents and brother as witnesses. Fantastic. For him.

I don't mean to sound mean or harsh...

But it might kill me to stand there without people I love there to watch and support me too.

Knowing that that's what it'll probably be though...I could probably handle it. I've handled a lot of other sutff alone. And Steven will be there. So I'm not alone.

....

But it's not the same.

I had the thought earlier today of actually getting in contact with Ambre again to ask her to stand as my maid of honor. The only one I could think of I'd want there. Wel, her, her brother, her sister.....her son......her family I wouldn't mind. I might beat the hell out of Anthony. Maybe. >>

Maybe that's what I'll do then.

More things that will piss mom and dad off...

So I'll send mom and dad an invite.

And Nana too.

And I'll bear the brunt of their accusations, warnings, pleads, rage and on forth. I don't care.

Too many times I let them control what I did, and I lost so much.

I want to be happy finally. I want to live a life away from my family too. I love them, in my own way, but it'll cripple me for life if I'm here too much longer.

And they just might realize someday that I'm following my heart and really will be happy...even if they don't understand what I do.

Love me, Steven. Marry me, Steven.

Please.

...first, there were 680 burgers, made by moi. From scratch. Took three hours. I'm kind of proud. Well, no. I've done a little over 1000 in four hours. That being said, I doubt I'm going to eat any of the burgers from the store any time soon. <(-_-;)>

Next up. I've lived here a year and a half, and these people still manage to surprise me. I finally get a chance to stand at the till (and on Wednesday's that means doing nothing nothing <(^.^;)> ) and this lady walks in, gives me a dirty look when I smile politely at her (I'm sure it was polite, it's not often I have the energy to grimace at people after lunch, I'm still designating all my energy to digesting my large Chinese brunch <(@_@)> ). But I didn't think anything of it until I noticed each time she made a lap around an aisle she scowled at me again. Then finally, after grabbing..what, three items? She comes up with her cart, leans in close over the counter, and I'm leaning forward because I'm sure I'm not going to hear what she has to say....and I say.."Is there something I can do for you, ma'am?" and she says, after getting closer, glancing both ways as if someone might hear (and of course my imagination has just jumped to the conclusion she's really a psycho with a gun and wants all my pennies for her collection at home <-- which wouldn't really surprise me in this town the way old people hold onto their ancient cash and don't trust the banks) and she answerd "...can I write you a check for my groceries?"

<(-_-;;)> "Yup. That's no problem at all." "Oh!, Good!"

And you'd think that was it, but it wasn't. Oh no~ instead a friend of hers comes up, they start chatting like old ladies do as I finish putting through her order, and when I'm doing her friend's groceries, I ring up the mini watermelon, and she asks me 'Do you think it's ripe?"

<(O.o)> "I would assume so...most of our vegetables are fresh when they arrive."

First Lady: "That's not a vegetable." It was like she was saying I was sinning by it oO

(>.>) "...fruit. I"ll go check with the produce manager..."

So...the store had it's interesting moments today. Oh! Yes, it was ripe. I was right. Things come in fresh. =P

Let's see....

Ah. It kinda gets me every summer here when the cotton starts flying that I have to do a double take sometimes (cause i'm usually dizzy and tired and not paying attention) to remember where I am. Honestly, it looks like the Kokiri Forest. The cotton looks like faeries and the cotton from the Kokiri Forest. So that damn theme starts playing....and yea. I keep waiting for the boys to cue in and start playing Zelda in the store.

Anyways.

So painting. Bought a frame for a new piece I just finished (no, I don't know when I'll have pics). I'm glad it turned out as well as it did (actually, the power was out all over town for an hour and a half, so I had time to sketch and paint it whilst ranting about the power, the painting, colours, and music from high school and how reliable Sony discman's used to be). It's also the first actual OFFICIAL piece I've done since the New Year. So I'm really glad for that. Also glad that it will be going up in the Coffee Shop here in town, so yay~

On Canada Day there will be a self-showing art show in the United Church. I'm thinking I MIGHT take a few pieces and show them off for a while. Maybe. One, it's a church and they make me feel icky. Two...I'm just too lazy to stand there all day. So I'll figure out who to contact and have a chat and see if I can just leave my stuff up. =P 'Sides, any questions, they know where I work.

All that aside...not much has changed.

Sehret!! Post, damn you!!

A gift, early for my birthday, and because my fiancee is the one who hears the most about my griping about not being able to write. Thank you for the insightful gift, love, it's made me smile since. Also, thank you for letting me share it here.

I sit outside the window
Looking in at all the life
My hand outstretched
Trying to remember

I sit among the ruins
A radiant city lost
The home of wonders
Having fallen so long ago

I sit beside the lake
Seeing my reflection
Water between my fingers
Sunshine, love, forgotten

I sit alone, inside myself
Empty walls, barren floors
A table, a bed, no color
A pen and paper...

I sit before the future
Unknown, fearful
To the side a bin
Cast aside, my passion

My pen sits in my hand
Waiting, watching,
Expecting that which is no more
But...

...I write.

Or the old me. Sometimes. Only pieces of her. The more passionate parts that could create wonderful poetry that didn't have to do with raging at herself or society. And good art.

I have this image in my head of a black and blue butterfly, painted so it looked almost like velvet...blended just right to make you wonder if the butterfly is really all blue and really iridescent, or all black with just some blue. In my head it's done on watercolor paper, but you want to reach out and touch the butterfly, it just draws you in. Like, Wow...what a beautiful butterfly....

I also miss the part that religiously played 30 minutes on her flute every day. There were a few times I made people cry, I was almost that good at playing and portraying how I felt through whatever music I had chosen to play. I miss being able to do that.

And I can't seem to pull the power to do any of the above for myself. I know I can, so whatever, right? I already know the end of the story, I already know how awesome that butterfly looks, I'm the one who's crying inside when I play...so then I don't need to, for myself at least.

I miss having an audience. People who cared not just about me improving, but also didn't care about improvement, but just wanted the next chapter! The next performance! 'What did you draw today?'

And it's gotten to the point that when customers comment on odd drawings or doodles I'm doing, I get downright bitter and resentful about it. I want to say 'You blind twits haven't seen shit, if you think this is stellar work.' Or something to that effect. So, why don't I do better, and really show 'em?

Simply put, the people who notice, are the people I don't care about. The comments are nice, here and there, though their expectations are a little annoying...but I mean, why aren't my brothers commenting? Dad has never said one thing about my poetry or writing or art in my entire life, other than to say I should be trying just as hard on math as I do in language or art class -_-.

People think artists have it easy. That writer's can sit back and do nothing as they live off checks from their work as songs and books sell. Or that artists have so much fun creating new pieces all the time, having cool studios and shows, not really doing any 'laborious' work. But it's not true. We do what we do because we love to, and we stick with it, even when we have no one else who's sticking with us. Our passion is in the written word, we were born with the talent and can exercise it to convey whatever we like. We are born to be masters of our arts, if we so choose to be. But that's the toughest career, in my opinion. Because your love for your work alone isn't enough. And when you can't write, or just don't have the motivation to paint a picture...you don't get paid. It's not a matter of not wanting to. It's not a matter of showing up on time, or being sick too many days. You are paid by the work you do, not the hour, and that's a tough job to keep up with. So it means you need to do it well, for years, before it pays for the rest of your life. And those are sometimes the shittiest years of your life.

To those who are still writing, still painting, singing, playing whatever instruments...whatever artistic career you wish for or are actually maintaining, I salute you, and hug you, and kiss you, and applaud you. It's not easy. But we still love it.

I hope soon I get my 'groove' back and find something worth writing and painting for again.

I've had several interesting conversations today. About identity, fallen angels, the end of our species...

Ah..it's a full moon. I prefer the waxing crescent. New life to the night, new light to the darkness...a new start. But there was that one full moon...flesh bare to it's light...embracing the night....

...I've been rather matter of fact all day too. Call me conceited or egotistical, but I'm not on the same level as some people who think they're so bad ass now because they can control their emotions or hide them away, and say they really have the control to only show a part of who they are. That's ridiculous. You can't. No one can. You just cripple yourself, and it's wrong.

And I'm a hypocrite, I know. I have years of things built up, because I've refused to loose my control over my emotions. But in the end, I was defeated, just like anyone else who does it is. Whether you're stripped of your pride or smile because you cry...or slowly kill yourself and drive yourself insane...it's defeat. But pride can be restored. People can't.

I love...to the point that it hurts. Not just my fiancee, but a lot of things. They're different kinds of love...but never any less fierce. And that's why I'm easily upset and seem so sensitive...because I love that much.

I hate too...but int he end my love wins out. There have been people I would rather strangle with my bare hands...but in the end, I let them cry on me, or tell me their problems...and I told them the truth they didn't want to hear, but I'm only kind, not generous.

And I hurt. About as much as I love. There are things I've done that I haven't been able to forgive myself for...not until this recent year...and there are many other things I can't just forget and forgive others for. Because that's how history repeats. That's how sins breed. That's why blood ran freely down a little girl's face in the form of tears that no one could see.

I make it sound so dramatic. Could probably make a killing writing music for the emo whores who need a smack. And the ones to smack them should be the closest to them...maybe then they'd see that they truly have nothing to be bitching about. -sigh- That image actually made my head hurt more. Gotta love migraines brought on by severe emotional self-induced trauma. I wonder how I do it?

But that's not what I want to write about.

When I was younger...my writing was the first thing people noticed about me. That I could write and read well and quickly with an unending well of ingenuity and cheer. I wasn't invisible anymore.

Mom and dad didn't care. Or they didn't act like they did. Math was more important.

...I'm sorry, between posting and texts, it's hard to stay focused enough to write this.

Back when I was younger, I contemplated suicide. After I moved out, and got caught up in the choice of a lover and my entire family..I cut for the first time. Never seriously, it was always just carving. With a wood chisel. And never horizontal or vertical lines, always crosses, almost looking like 'x's. Like red shadows made by pins. And I'd be meticulous in how I did it, holding the wood chiselt he first time, an art knife every other time, just like a paint brush. Tiny cuts, over and over, slowly lengthening the lines, adding in the tiny details that only I would see, but if I didn't work so hard to put them there, I would be unhappy.

I was insane. For five years I tortured myself and hated myself and poisoned myself against myself. There was a summer...the summer before I moved here...that I lost all will to live for nearly two days. I awoke...and didn't move. Something had happened that...

I didn't eat. I slept, but only to be tormented with the memory, and with dreams that would never come true. I felt no strength in me.

And what was worse...

Was the one person I had given all of myself to...

Didn't say a word, or notice.

He walked in, said he was going somewhere and would be gone till the next day...and left. That was all.

I remember falling asleep after that, late at night when I just couldn't brood on things anymore...and the next morning when I tried to move, it hurt more than anything I'd ever felt. It felt like my body was trying to crush itself. or was being crushed by something. I could hardly breath, and the small breaths I managed hurt.

I don't remember the rest. Obviously I survived my ordeals, and have become a hell of a lot better, both physically and mentally. But I'll always have the scars and the memories.

And I'll always be a little unstable. And maybe I'm thinking too much about it. I thought I knew love, but I became inseparable from pain.

I've asked my mother to get a tattoo with me. Is it because I'm terrified of her forgetting about me? Is it because I get pain from hurting others? Am I trying to hurt my mom?

I asked Steven if he'd get an ear pierced with me. Am I trying to hurt him? Or do I honestly feel closer to someone to have shared pain with them? Is that my idea of a loving bond? Blood and broken flesh?

When I sometimes lose myself between my emotions and sexual release...when I realize I'm digging in my nails or biting too hard...what am I doing? What's wrong with me that I get excited and feel a sick release from physically hurting someone close to me...? I don't even do it consciously, I don't decide to, I don't plan or intend to...I don't want to hurt any of them.

In the conversation earlier...he called himself a Fallen Angel, that I'd need to catch up to him. I had to laugh. I've been fallen since I was ten, at least. Fallen...dirtied...vengeful still...and unable to bring myself to take that vengeance when or on who I should.

Some might call me a monster. Actually...one guy did. I'm a monster. A horrid, murdering monster.

But I'm not. How could a real monster try to bring flowers or an old fish back to life? If I was a monster, my hands wouldn't shake sometimes... If I was as dark as some think I am....I wouldn't sing, or understand the warmth I feel in my lover's arms.

If I was a monster, my heart wouldn't have broken so many times. And if it had somehow, I wouldn't have tried to keep any of the pieces.

And theres no alternate persnality. There's no difference in what I'm called. I'm me. The only me I'll ever know. And slowly, I've come to love myself. I'm not sure if I ever truly did, since love isn't something I thought about until a little later...not love for me. Even though that's what I wanted more than anything, from anyone. Just one person, that's all I wanted.

Heh...I meant this journal to be a way to be productive in my writing. Creative therapy is what I decided to call it. But it seems each time I come ehre to write something...something unintended comes pouring out.

Just goes to show that in the end...you still can't control it.

There was a time
I pranced over these stones
Following a ray of light
Only I could see
Brandishing my princely blade
And laying it at your feet…

Dare I believe in a maiden that once walked these barren halls?
Dare I believe in a love buried beneath crumbling walls?
Dare I to look beyond this castle to a tear-filled sea
Will my maiden be standing where yet I only see me?

The days were dark
Back in a past I no longer know
The lightest breeze
Brought to me a scent
Of a freedom yet to be
From the painful years spent…

Dare I remember such sad dreams of lilac and lily?
Dare I remember the hand that became the key…
Dare I remember the softest touch of an angel…
Only to remember how I leaped, then fell

And years spun passed in silence
Parted, angel and prince embraced lives anew
The Sky Kingdom painted
With the clouds of many seasons
Until a time when darkness fell…
And the shadows kept hold of their reasons

Dare I bother with what was cast away?
Dare I bother to salvage those ashes this day?
Dare I bother the wisps of my dark memory…
And nurture the flame of a once pure reverie…

There was a time
When I walked these stones…
There was a time
I would have done anything…
Time’s gone on
And so have we…
Time’s gone on
And left nothing…to me….

Another dedication to Ambre...one that I'm sure she never found.

I never worried about love...not true love...until high school started. As a child I was free spirited and went where my imagination led me. Often into fights with my father and trying to break free of whatever norm was the fad that year at school. Always quiet, invisible until the bullies got bored and chose me as their victim. I was never really bet up as a kid, but they enjoyed getting me upset, and I was normally the one to throw the first punch...or..first claw marks? To this day I'm sure there are some guys who look down at their arm and wonder about themselves and that crazy little girl with Hermione-like hair that gave them the scars on their arms.

There was Tyrel, whom I chased since grade five. Always asked him to dance at the dances, and I even 'defeated' Tiffany in winning him back, though it was more of just her backing off....truly, then I should have realized how much of  tool he was. That was probably one of my first cts of profound kindness too....she 'stole' him from me, and then I was talking with Felicia and Mrs. Snowdon in the Councillers office at lunch when Tiffany walked by outside. Mrs. Snowdon was musing to herself, muttering 'I'll never understand why that girl doesn't have self esteem...she's a beautiful girl, she's not fat at all...she worries too much about her looks instead of her grades..." Heh...that same day I tracked Tiffany down outside of the band room and told her straight up that she was very pretty and that she really didnt have to worry what others thought of her at all. It just felt like the right thing to do at the time, and I've never regretted it, because I was being honest. Told my 'enemy' the truth, and that ws all. =S She then told Mrs. Snowdon about that the next day, and I won a gold merit slip (part of the messed up High Five Club we had going on throughout Jr High - by the way, this was in grade 6). Then Tiffany tracked me down and told me I could have Tyrel back. xD Shocked the Hell out of me, but yea.

Heh...he didn't dance with me until grade 8. We were close enough friends though, and were competitive with our classes. And we even ended up going out five different times, I dumped him after each. ^^; He was just never enough, and I came to realize that I didn't really 'love' him...I just liked being with him, but I wanted more than a friend. But he wasn't it.

The Tyrel bit was a little of a hobby more than a focus for me in those years though (we're talking January of Grade Five to the end of Grade 8). I dated another friend of mine in that time, Brandon.

Ever since grade two all the kids made fun of him. He was fat, a little unhygenic, quick to anger...and I couldnt help but be sympathetic. I did feel sorry for him, and I defended him. We didn't become friends though until grade 6 though (he did turn around in his desk and stare at me during grade 5 though ;-; Creepy...). But even him, the only reason we went out was because we were jealous of Felicia and Steven, two of our friends who were dating off and on.

Haha...looking back at it now, I shake my head and wonder if every small teen out there thinks they know love. I know I didn't. I know I liked to think I did...but that changed when I met Ambre.

-sigh- My folks and brothers knew nothing about my dating desires. Knew nothing of how I was at school. I was a good kid and didn't get into trouble, whatever, they didn't care, because I was still getting 60's or 70's in math. I wasn't good enough. And that's only the foam ontop of the rest of the boiling pot of disaster that was my home life. Which is for another entry.

I won't lie. I was contemplating suicide. I toed with the idea everytime I washed the knives during dishes. Everytime there was a huge fight in the house, every time I got grounded for voicing my opinion or defending something or someone my father didn't like. We weren't so poor we were on the street. We were certainly too poor for Dad to wallow in self pity and drink. Too poor for a baby sitter? =S -sigh- I hated my life, I hated how I was forced into being the only responsible one in the house, the one who was supposed to fill the highest expectations. How was I supposed to come out of it alright?

Actually, I should sy something here. Some people will read this and make some comment about emos. Or they'll shrug because they're either apathetic or jaded and will say 'I've had/seen worse'. But that's not the point. Everyone has troubles. And not everyone handles them s well or anywhere near the same as other people do. A child starving in Africa is the same as a child with no one to even talk to in America. In the eyes of a child, Mother is God. And when Mother can't save you...can't take the pain away...it's the same pain we all feel.

Anyways. I was messed up. I didn't talk to my family, I never felt I could. I didn't need to before, and when I did, they were unreliable because they had their own problems. I didn't hve many friends at school, and the ones I did have couldn't do anything. Even they couldn't bring comfort to me.

But Ambre could.

We met in air cadets. I was determined to not enjoy myself so mom wouldn't force me to keep going. I didn't like meeting new people or trying new things. I liked my books, my solitude, my little imaginary world. I didn't care about people (this is the attitude I adopted after my elementary school friend moved away and I saw the world for what it was the first time because I didn't have anything else to do but finally see...I may sound full of myself...but I grew in different ways, very fast). Ambre...was different though. As soon as I made it clear that I didnt wish to 'mingle' among these strange kids I glimpsed in pssing at school, Ambre came over and started talking to me.

My glare didn't work. My short answers didn't work. Walking away when she was midsentence didn't work. And I wasn't a kid who liked to start a fight. And then she sat with me on the ride home (a small bus dropped us off everywhere). And she kept talking to me. Even though I frowned and shrugged and ignored her, she wouldn't stop.

Then I began noticing her in the hallway at school. The tables at lunch. I tried to stay in a classroom or go outside, but she'd find me. Then cadets would come on Tuesday night and it would be non-stop talking from her.

Finally...after three weeks of my best attempts (short of getting physical or unreasonably mean) I gave in and started talking back.

And then it bloomed into an inseperable friendship, bordering on sisterhood. I began smiling, I became active, I began looking forward to things (so long as she was there too). She was kind, generous, a sweetheart. She loved to laugh, she loved to dream, she'd sing to herself when she got sad, so you never knew when she was upset and might've needed someone. And she did what others didn't. She didn't ask what my problem was, she didn't badger me about letting it out. At night we'd sleep in the same bed, and it took many months before I began talking about what was going on at home and how I felt. And she would hold me. She didn't lie and say it was okay, or it would be alright. She didn't give me false hope and suggest ways to run away. It was my decision what I chose to do. And its because of her that I eventually found the strength to tell my parents that I was done.

Too late though...I realized that I wanted to be more than just friends. I wanted to protect her. She didn't tell me things. In fact, I don't know if she's told anyone anything. She kept it to herself and would only softly sing, a small smile to appear after most times. I remember once when we were out gliding with the cadets, and she felt sick and so was resting in the back of one of the vehicles. So I came, covered her with my coat, and I sang to her. And as things began to peak at home...I became more aware of my parents trying to separate me from her. Go see a different friend. They heard rumours about her, and Dad always hopped on the rumour band wagon.....

And then she was moving away. My world came crashing down again, and I felt abandoned. And I realized I loved her. I wanted to do more than just potect her now..I wanted her to know how I felt. I wanted to kiss her, and hold her close...and be her prince. Because she helped me find my smile. She had become my light, and yet...I failed to tell her. I tried to. I told her I had something to say. But...the words didn't come.

Then she was gone, and I was forced to find my own light.

We fell out of communication, and we didn't speak for nearly three years. And when I did confess my feelings...it was three weeks after she had begun dting her first boyfriend in high school. I felt like such a fool. But even if I couldn't have her, our conversation felt like old times. I ached for her, but I was happy enough just to hear her again.

Then Eric happened. Actually, I moved out at fifteen, moved in with my Nana, went through grade ten, THEN Eric happened, just before grade eleven. I thought it was love at first sight, and so did he. Of course...love is blind.

My parents and nana were against it, but by this time I had gone and proven that I would do as I wanted. It was my dating life.

Ha...I dn't really want to talk about him just yet..or a lot of what was between us.

It became a horrid relationship though, and I'm very glad I left him and moved away. I'll bare the scars from him forever. Emotional, mental...physical.....I probably won't ever forget. But even before the end of that relationship, I was strong enough to smile and at least leave and go in search of true happiness...and someone to treat me better...someone I could return those feelings.

I find my younger brother Chisholm making some of the mistakes I did. I've also found that, he, like me, won't lsiten to a word I say against his choices. And I can stand back and understand that, even if it does piss me off that he's being so stupid. Again, love is blind. Chisy even said 'now you can see what we could' when I left Eric. I can't help but laugh. I always saw what they saw...I jut believed I could change it. I could make him a better person. I tried...and then too late...well...things happened, and I found myself trapped in a cage of my own design.

I saw him only a little over a month or two ago, when I was returning from the states. We met int he greyhound in calgary. Heh...I looked up, and there he was, staring at me. And fro a moment my heart stopped, I froze, and felt that heart wrenching feeling you get when you see someone you've shared a fair bit of your life with and you wish you could forget. But just as quickly the spell was broken, and I smiled. I walked passed him, saying 'Of all the people...hm.' And I didn't look back.

Looking back...I'll admit that there was everything wrong with me and Eric. Probably the worst mistake I've ever made. And even now, remembering how terrible he was, I can still remember some of the good things too. Like his writing. He used to be a wonderful writer. That's what hooked me in the first place. He was levels beyond me in skill and talent. But he was spoiled, and emotionally abused by his father too. No where near as bad as me or other people I know. In fact, if he had tried to be stronger on his own, he would hve turned out just fine. But that's what makes the difference I guess. Those who make the effort to change themselves...and those who don't. And I guess some just don't see it.

I guess I'm way off topic.

Actually, no...there's more to that, but I've talked for quite awhile and your eyes might be bleeding from reading a computer screen for so long.

In summary...I've loved...and I've lost a lot. My childhood. Chances to enjoy being a teenager. My virginity. My innocence. Ambre.

But now I have Steven...and for once, that's all I truly need. His little hello in the morning, his 'I love you' at night. He knows all my dark secrets, and the gods know, I've done him wrong countless times two yers ago...one year ago...and it was him who asked me to go back to him, and let him hold me. I think that's what the great writer's and dreamers call 'mercy.' And ever since I've put my efforts into being a better person. To smile more, and to become stronger on my own, so I can be there for him as much as he is for me. Though he's my seventh boyfriend, and second fiancee...I feel like I'm a child trying to understand real love and somehow not be trampled by it. We have a hard road ahead of us, as Eric and I had a difficult road too......but this time, I won't be a princess needing saving. I'm going to make mistakes, but I'll be the one to fix them. We're both going to fall and fail sometimes, but this time I won't feel burdened when I help him to his feet.

I'm looking beyond the obstacles, to what we'll have when we're ready for it. A certain day that will be the first in the rest of our lives, and so long as we can remain strong with one another, we'll share those days together.

Q: WHOS THE 4TH PERSON ON YOUR RECEIVED CALL LIST?
A: Mom...I forget what about. Probably work.

Q: WHATS YOUR MAIN RINGTONE ON YOUR PHONE?
A: Jurassica Park Theme

Q: WHAT WERE YOU D0ING AT MIDNIGHT LAST NIGHT?
A: Kicking the shit out of XT-002 in Ulduar25man. I think. Or maybe we just finished Razorscale, hmmm...I don't really pay attention.

Q: WHAT DID THE LAST TEXT MESSAGE ON YOUR CELL PHONE SAY
A: Hm? I love you too. -smiles-

Q: WHOSE BED DID YOU SLEEP IN LAST NIGHT?
A: Mine u.u

Q: WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING?
A: Black.

Q: MOST RECENT MOVIE THAT YOU WATCHED?
A: Date Movie

Q: NAME 3 THINGS THAT YOU HAVE ON YOU AT ALL TIMES?
A: Cell, Jewellery, Clothes xD

Q: WHAT'S THE COLOR OF YOUR BEDSHEETS?
A: Black

Q: HOW MUCH CASH DO YOU HAVE ON YOU RIGHT NOW?
A: Dude, I'm f'n broke.

Q: WHAT IS YOU FAVOURITE PART OF THE CHICKEN?
A: Leg. I like breasts, but legs are finger food.

Q: WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE TOWN/CITY?
A: I'd have to say Millcreek, WA...because I can't remember the name of the town a bit nrth of it...but I spent more time in Millcreek, so meh.

Q: I CAN’T WAIT TO (TILL)…?
A: I move down to WA

Q: WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU SAW YOUR MUM?
A: Yesterday.

Q: WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU SAW YOUR DAD?
A: Yesterday

Q: WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU TALKED TO THEM?
A: Yesterday also

Q: WHAT DID YOU HAVE FOR DINNER LAST NIGHT?
A: Some whole wheat spaghetti with my brother's meat sauce

Q: HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN AT YOUR CURRENT JOB?
A: Since...February of '08...

Q: LOOK TO YOU LEFT. WHAT'S THERE?
A: A small mess on my bedside table. Jewelery, empty glass, books, picture/frame, wine bottle vase w/ blue and black roses, candles...pens. Gott have pens within reach at all time.

Q: WHO IS THE LAST PERSON YOU SPENT OVER $50 ON?
A: I think my fiancee....?

Q: WHAT’S THE LAST PEICE OF CLOTHING YOU BORROWED FROM SOMEONE?
A: I wouldn't consider it 'borrowing' so much as skillfully aquiring and vowing never to return....>> But that could be any three of my fiancees shirts

Q: WHAT WEBSITE(S) DO YOU VISIT MOST DURING THE DAY?
A: Gaia Online, Deviant Art, Least I Could Do, Questionable Content, I Can Has Cheezeburger, You Tube

Q: DO YOU HAVE AIR FRESHENER IN YOUR CAR?
A: I no has a car

Q: DO YOU HAVE PLANTS IN YOUR ROOM?
A: I have an asiatic lily in the window

Q: DOES ANYTHING HURT ON YOUR BODY RIGHT NOW?
A: My head and my ribs

Q: WHAT CITY WAS YOUR LAST TAXI RIDE IN?
A: Lethbridge -_-

Q: DO YOU OWN A CAMERA PHONE?
A: Yes I do. ^^

Q: WHAT’S YOUR FAVOURITE STARBUCKS DRINK?
A: None, I don't do expensive coffee...or coffee at all, it puts me to sleep.

Q: RECENT TIME YOU WERE REALLY UPSET?
A: xD Last night at the beginning of the raid. Hyperventilating and everything...though I'm sure it was just an accumulation of a lot of pent up stuff and not what I thought it was.

Q: HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN LOVE WITH ANYONE?
A: A few times. Like now. -nods- Happilly in love.