It's rather depressing, when I was at my lowest weight I didn't appreciate my appearance and wanted to lose more. Now it seems like I'll never be back to where I was. Vanity, thy name is Alex! Anywho, I'm gonna give this waking up early thing a shot. I'll drag my lazy bum outta bed and get a quick workout in then see about writing something. If I feel like it's worth a damn I may post something up here, but I'm making no promises.
- Current Mood: bored
...does not come easily this night. I miss her...something fierce. I need to write more, I need to submit my current work, I need to unpack all of those boxes, I need to study. There's so much that I need to do that I've forgotten to slow down and really enjoy...and here's sleep. Thanks livejournal =)!
Yeah, the above post was made about three nights ago from a hotel in South Florida. Unfortunately the internet connection there was not as glorious as I had hoped it to be and the journal never posted. Luckily, my trusty computer (who has yet to have it's annual f**k up) saved the post. So, props to you compy, you don't get many.
So, I had the extreme displeasure of seeing Dragonball:: Evolution today. I know what you're thinking 'Why the hell are you watching Dragonball: Evolution?" For the same reason I'll eventually go see the G.I. Joe movie: It's my childhood. Believe me folks, it's a sad thing watching your childhood crash and burn and what's even worse is the fact that the lovely dickholes at Fox don't even try to make it compatible with the story we grew up watching. Now, I'm fully aware that there are time constraints and other things to take into consideration, but that still doesn't explain why Goku was in school and why Master Roshi was younger than Gohan. There are so many discrepencies I'm dying to list, but I have no intention of spending the rest of the night writing this damned thing. So, my opinion of the DB Movie in a nutshell: Didn't work for me.
Still no inspiration on the writing front, the distinguished ROB's words still irritate the hell out of me and convince me that everything I write is absolute drivel. I'm preparing to submit a few of my short stories to a few literary magazines on the offchance that someone will like my work. My family and friends enjoy it, but bias has a tendancy of infecting those closest to us. I'm hoping for the best, I need a little confidence boost, at the moment. Bleh...I also need a nap. Anywho, peace.
Just a brief note to the world...the next time you honk your car horn at someone and then get out of the car to challenge them, make sure they aren't a 6'4 bear of a man driving their girlfriend's car. Needless to say he got back in his vehicle with little incident and I felt supremely pleased with my physique. If I had a really bad temper that poor jerk might be locked in his trunk right now.
I might come back and tell the whole story later, if I feel like it, lol.
So, apparently you can't plan life. This is news to me and quite distressing news, I might add. Just how important does the world think it is, not conforming to my every want and need? Alright, so I’m not really that arrogant, but I really dislike how quickly life changes. It’s almost scary how things that were locked in and definite plans one minute become nothing more than fanciful ideas the next and vice versa.
I’m not sure if anyone reads this at all anymore, which is probably why I’ll end up posting here more than anywhere else. I’ve made the decision to confine myself to one and only one place to post ‘not-a-blogs’ and the like.
So, back to the original topic of this blog: Christmas Eve Realizations.
Realization Numero Uno- I was walking through the store yesterday and saw The Hills on sale. It was at this point that I realized that there is no human being on this planet that I hate enough to buy that damnable dvd set for. Honestly, what is the appeal? Holy Shit that blond chick is friends with another blonde chick and there’s this one guy…holy shit!
Realization Numero Dos- Double Dragon is an absolutely hoooooooorrrriiibbble movie. It’s playing in the background right now and think I’m honestly losing intelligence because of it.
Realization Number Three- I hate speaking Spanish.
Realization Number Four- The closest friends you’ll ever have are those that care about you and not how you can do shit for them.
Note On Realization Number Four: I’ll write a blog on this later, but suffice to say I’ve been reexamining my friendships and I’ve discovered several interesting things.
Realization Five: I grow bored very easily
That’s all I have to say for now. Hey, I never claimed my life was interesting…besides when the writing bug bites me again I’ll explain everything in fuller detail…enjoy Christmas.
This is gonna be the day from hell. I'm trying to finish up six sections of spanish homework and read two chapters of my film theory class. Once I read the two, ridiculously ridiculous, film chapters I get to write a six page paper. The paper is due by five pm tomorrow night and all I can think about is where the fuck the power chord to my psp is. Seriously, I can't find the little bastard. It's probably shoved away in my car somewhere.
This is a very serious problem. My car is a lot like Angelina Jolie's vagina; once you go in odds are you'll never find your way out. It's got tons of crap shoved around in there and doesn't necessarily smell like roses. But enough about Angelina's vagina, let's move on to my car...it's pissing me off. Mainly because I should be worried about doing some of my homework, but the only thing I can seem to give a damn about is my PSP. I want to play that little bastard so damned bad!!!
God college is stupid!!! Why the fuck do I have to learn Spanish to be an English Major?! Does that make sense to anyone?
The lady Ashleigh had grown up with Samantha. In fact, when the younger girl had joined the Pennington House it was Ashleigh that served as her superior. Although she was Samantha’s senior by one year, Ashleigh was shocked at the girl’s naïve view of the world. At first, Ashleigh thought it was something that Samantha would grow out of; she thought that a few of the worlds “harsh lessons” would open the girl’s eyes. However, overtime Ashleigh came to realize that Samantha would never lose that optimistic and naïve nature. Her eyes were shut to the world’s true nature and she was obliviously happy about that. It was why Ashleigh loved her, but it was also why Ashleigh hated her.
Throughout the course of her life, several hardships had befallen Ashleigh and Samantha had been there to comfort her, promising her that life would get better. But no matter how much Samantha promised, no matter what she said, the world never got any better. Her beloved had still abandoned her and she was still whispered about behind closed doors. Ashleigh could have been content with the world if Samantha had remained her inferior, the silly little girl who would always need ‘big sister Ashleigh’ to hold her hand. But she could not allow Samantha to rise above her. The little fool honestly thought that her lover would honor his promise and make her his wife. Ashleigh knew that it was only a matter of time before the aristocrat broke her heart, but she had grown tired of seeing that idiotic smile of love plastered across Samantha’s face. She had grown tired of listening to heartfelt sighs and love letters being read aloud.
Samantha could say Ashleigh was bitter all she liked, it didn’t change the fact that the Aristocrats family would not have him marrying below his station; regardless of his feelings and the sooner Samantha realized that, the better. However, things were moving far too slowly for Ashleigh’s comfort and with each passing day Samantha began to think herself better than Ashleigh. She had begun to look upon her with pity, and Ashleigh would not allow that.
Dressed in her third best dress, Ashleigh made her way through the city. After hailing a carriage, Ashleigh took the hand offered by the driver, told him the destination and stepped inside.
The Moore’s had several offices where business was conducted but the largest was the office located in the Capitol City. It was well known that Lord Douglas Moore oversaw all aspects of the main office, so Ashleigh was fairly certain she would be able to find him there. Stepping out of the carriage, Ashleigh pushed a silver piece into the driver’s extended hand as she lowered herself down. With a tip of his hat, the driver dismissed himself and took the carriage off down the street, searching for another customer.
After taking a moment to ensure her dress did not get wrinkled in the ride over, Ashleigh adjusted her bodice. She needed to appear alluring, yet cultured if she wanted to meet with Lord Moore.
Lifting her skirts up slightly, Ashleigh made her way up the stairs leading into Lord Moore’s office.
After announcing that she had information concerning Lord Moore’s son she was promptly shown to the Lord’s private office. The Office was every bit as lavish as Ashleigh had expected it to be. While Lord Moore was not one to throw his money away he spared no expense when it came to appearances. That was why Ashleigh knew she had the upper hand in the situation. If word that Lord Moore’s heir was sharing his bed with a merchant’s daughter became public information, it would be an embarrassment to the aristocratic family.
Lord Moore’s office was located at the very top of the building and by the time she reached it Ashleigh was beginning to regret wearing heels. A young servant opened the door for Ashleigh and led the way into Lord Douglas Moore’s office.
Ashleigh had only seen Lord Moore a handful of times and always from a distance. Up close she could see the sparse similarities he and his son shared. Alexander had his eyes and his jaw, and the Horse Lord was almost as broad shouldered as his son, aside from that Ashleigh saw nothing to link the two. The thick black mustache beneath Lord Moore’s nose was peppered with gray hair. The hair on his head was darker than his mustache but it was evident that it wouldn’t be much longer before they were an even match. His nose was larger than Alexander’s and his eyebrows were thicker.
Raising his eyebrows as Ashleigh walked through the door; Lord Douglas Moore sat back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. The servant bowed to Lord Moore and left the room, leaving Ashleigh alone with Lord Moore.
Lifting her skirts, Ashleigh curtsied to Lord Moore.
Ashleigh started to get up but would find herself frozen in place by Moore’s gaze. Had she gotten in over her head here? Was he going to kill her?
His voice was soft, yet frightening when he spoke. “These are serious accusations. You will keep your mouth closed on the matter.” Rising from his chair Lord Moore moved to the large window overlooking the street. “If I find that this was all some hoax in an attempt to…”
“I assure you it’s not.” Ashleigh cut in. “I have come here, not to take your gold, but to keep a friend of mine in a station that she belongs in.”
Lord Moore remained at the window, looking down at the city below him. Ashleigh could only imagine what he might be thinking. What seemed like an eternity passed before the man actually spoke. “Leave. If what you’ve said is true you will be rewarded. However, if I find you have lied to me…”
When he did not finish his sentence Ashleigh rose from her chair. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Ashleigh hurriedly made her way out of the room. Taking a deep breath, Ashleigh let out a sigh. The relationship between Samantha and Alexander was as good as over with. Lord Moore would tell his son to end the relationship and Samantha would find herself heartbroken and alone, with Ashleigh as her only comfort. Samantha would be back in her place and Ashleigh would be content again. Perhaps, then Samantha would see the world for what it truly was; a dark uncaring place.
(I'm aware it needs a great deal of work, but I turned this out in about 45 minutes so...don't be too harsh.)
Alexander sat alone in his father's study, listening as the crackle of the fire was engulfed by the roar of the encroaching storm. High above the family's estate chaos churned and swirled, waiting for the perfect moment to attack. It was a storm the likes of which had not been seen for a millennium. It was a storm the likes of which had not been seen for millenia. The clergy told them that the storm was sent to "Cleanse," that they were impure and had only survived because God thought they could turn it around. It was barely midday and already the sky was darker than anything Alexander had ever seen. The clouds that moved above were unlike anything he had ever seen; as black as onyx and more ferocious than any beast he could ever hope to face. Alexander was beginning to believe that this truly was God’s wrath coming to decimate his family for the crimes they had committed. Unfortunately for the wrath of God, Alexander’s family had already been judged and Alexander had seen to it that the proper sentence was carried out. His hands were stained a sickening reddish brown that he had yet to wash away. For some reason, Alexander found it fitting to face God’s wrath with his father’s blood on his hands.
However, Alexander felt no remorse for his actions. His father had deserved, and been facing, a fate far worse than death. Alexander had committed an act of mercy and that was all. Leaning back in his father’s chair, Alexander sighed. How many lives had his father ruined while sitting in this chair? How many people suffered and ached, because of his father’s crimes? The answer was unimportant to Alexander. Alexander knew of several who suffered because of his father, but there was only one he cared about.
“Samantha…” he whispered softly, his voice drowned out by the roar of thunder overhead. Where was she now? Was she hurt? What had his father done to her before sending her away? Gripping at his chest, Alexander dug his nails into his chest grasping at his heart; at the heart that had belonged to her. Would she be able to dance whenever she liked in her new home? Would she be allowed to go and sit in the garden, as she loved to do? Pressing his eyelids together, Alexander tried to force away the tears. Would he ever see her again? Was he cursed to never again dance alongside her, or sit beside her in the garden?
Warm teardrops fell from his cheeks. Rising from his father’s chair, Alexander moved to the window. The storm was near and it was as frightening as the clergy’s stories had made it out to be.
“Samantha…” Alexander whispered again, pressing his hand against the glass of the window to remain steady. Whatever his fate, it couldn’t be worse than what he was going through now. Samantha was his reason for existing, without her he had no reason to live. Smiling softly Alexander stared out at the storm. The storm will come, he thought to himself. It would come and cleanse him so that he might be pure, for her.
(Alright, I'm aware that I've never posted any stories up before, but this was just a little scenario I thought out in my head and I had to write it down. If you don't like it, that's fine. There's only one person whose opinion actually matters to me and that's because this was written for her. Peace)
- Current Mood: loved
* When I spend 45 minutes writing a journal entry when I could be writing something useful
*When I stop writing because I doubt my own abilities
*When I have to go to class
* When someone reminds me what I'm majoring in
* When I can't do what I wanna do
*When she's not around
* When she's sad
* When she's happy...and I had nothing to do with it.
* When she's hurting and there's nothing I can do about it.
* When we argue over the stupid things
* When she's not around...
So, my uncle died a few days ago. He wasn't really a blood relative, more like my Aunt's second husband. To be entirely honest, he wasn't exactly the greatest of guys, his last couple months alive he took some medication that "made him" do some pretty bad stuff, but for as long as I can remember he's always been nice to me.
It's weird, when he was alive I never really thought about him all that much. I suppose you could say I sort of brused him off as an unimportant human being. However, now that he's gone I can't help but feel some remorse. He didn't really deserve the last few months of his life, they were pretty much moments filled with pain, which could only be alleviated by medication that caused him to become extraordinarily aggressive.
I'm not really sure how I feel about it all. I'm certainly not glad that he is dead, but I am glad that my family no longer has to worry about getting hurt.
Does that make me a bad person?
This question has been in my mind for the past couple of days and caused me quite a bit of unrest. I hate that death has to be considered a blessing...life is weird.
That's all I have to say on the matter for now.
I had my first philly cheese steak the other day and I'm in love.