YEEEEEAAAAAHHHH!!!! Charlene pulls through AGAIN and creates a masterpiece to blow her proffessor away in just ONE DAY! I'm celebrating by allowing myself to eat Cheetos at 11pm. *Grin*

Alright, listen up. Incubus' new album Morning View came out Oct. 28th and I'm absolutally IN LOVE with the song Are You In. Have You Ever is excellent as well...I can't wait to find a car and go out and buy the album.
What do you do with this information you may ask?
DOWNLOAD AWAY!....Then go buy the Album, 'cause with this stupid network speed at UM, you'll get the full thing by the time their next one comes out. ;)
Love ya'll.

Okay, okay so I'm obsessed with posting poetry on this thing...the first step is admitting you have a problem right? Well hey, at least most of it is mine!!....hehe...

I’m tired.
Of shallow minds screaming
Love
Out of frosted strawberry lips.
Untouched hearts
Crying
Superficial teardrops
For unknown blue eyes.
Drama.
Not scratch on their soul.

Let me absorb you and show you the difference.
My blood is black.
The difference is clear in,
That I have been through death in stolen
Love.
I scream too.
The difference is clear in,
That I am,
(Somehow)
Still breathing.

At the end of my suffering
there was a door.

Hear me out: that which you call death
I remember.

Overhead, noises, branches of the pine shifting,
Then nothing. The weak sun
flickered over the dry surface.

It is terrible to survive
as consciousness
buried in the dark earth.

-Louise Gluck

My Jaw Detached,
And a wonderous howl
(Almost mechanic,
inhuman, unnatural)
Slits between my teeth,
Off my tongue and into the night.
My soft faded skin,
Wounded,
(Cauterized around the edges)
I fell to my knees and watched my blood turn,
(Black)
And soak among the gravel and dying weeds,
Into a world I once thought was beautiful.

August, 2000 (Look what I found!):

How many miles north,
Must we travel,
To find our perfect reality,
Drowning in the midst’s of
Clear water?

Welcome to the land of the FUCKED!!!!
Alright...this is the ultimate test of my scholastic abilities. I have an six page research paper due Friday, that I have yet to start research on, and I have a nine page paper due in communications on monday.
I repeat, FUCKED!
The 9 page paper gets to be injected full of BULLSHIT....lots and lots of time consuming BULLSHIT. There goes my weekend, god damn it.
I want to cry....where's my valium...

Oh my lord, it's been a while. Funny thing I noticed.....I haven't actually posted anything of my own in a long time. And it's not that I'm too lazy to sit here and type my thoughts out, it's just that lately I've been running across poems, writings, or songs that seem to be able to say it better than I do. Cheap trick, I guess.
But here you have it, straight from my deranged mind, a personal blog just for you.
Thanksgiving was interesting, to say the least. The first time I've gotten completely plowed with my parents...and I do mean plowed, ladies and gent's. Spent most of the night talking to a 26 year old grad from UV...majored in Biotechnology. Wrestler, kinda short but cute. It's weird to think that we've spent the last three thanksgiving's together and hardly said a word to each other. Now that I'm in college though, it was like the 8 year age barrier just evaporated. Funny how things like personal freedom can change things like that. At least we had a foundation to work off of. He spent his freshmen year at UM too, and was in my dorm building. Strange, how small the world can be sometimes.
Anyway, the rest of the trip went pretty well. I was so happy to have Alison up for a few days, that was probably the best thing that could have happened. Foo, you are my stress relief, I love you!!
It's bizarre to think how many people have faded out of my life, and how some I'd vaguely known have become closer friends. THE WORLD IS NUTS. GAAH!
Okay, so I pierced my belly button. Not quite sure why, another random impulse I suppose. Kind of like the decision to cut my hair, only a little less permanent. The next time I want a drastic change, remind me NOT to touch my hair.
Next stop, tongue ring.
Speaking of stops, Seattle sucks a nut. Horizon Air isn't much better. After fucking up my round trip ticket and 'making' me come back home..errr...school a day later than usual (The delay to come home wasn't so bad, it allowed the birth of the "Online Food Consumption Diary"...something only a select few know about!! *smile*), I had a four hour delay in SEA because of a broken sensor that registered wether or not the damn hatch was closed or not. Of course, they don't notice it until about a half hour into our flight to Missoula, so we had to head back to SEA for them to fix it, which took about an hour and a half, and then it took another hour to get off the ground because the tower wouldn't clear us for takeoff because they didn't know the weather in Missoula. Grr.
Yeah, that was fun. The car was looking more and more appealing each minute.
Anyway, I'll stop my whining now. I should probably try to head off to bed anyway.
Love ya'll, <-----(southern spelling. Marguerite insists.)
-Char

The problem is that love makes it all so damn difficult

You were the first one to teach me about ripening fruit by putting it in a paper bag. And you said you liked my hat when I wouldn’t wear it because I thought it was a fashion fraud. I wore it. One time I was so amazed by your presence in my life that I drove my lawn mower in circles out of glee. When the storms came, you suggested that we sit on the porch in rocking chairs to enjoy the humidity.
I admit that I lied about washing your flannel shirt because I liked it with your smell on it. Maybe you knew and didn’t say anything. You understand the things that I do.
You are warm to me. You make coming home worth while. And getting up, for that matter. I like you most in the morning, when your tangled hair floats in the breeze of our window fan before settling on my arm again. I like it when we stay in bed late and you wear your sleepy smile, nestling back into the craters you created in the bed. I don’t have a time that I like you least. Even when you are drunk, I am enamored.
When you get excited, your eyes light up like the little sister I never had discovering a miniature pony in our yard on Christmas morning. You don’t eat candy, but I do because it reminds me of your taste. And you have that habit slowly blowing smoke out in a perfect “v” that turns me on so much. I could watch you do that for hours, but I might explode first.
I learned to like Van Halen because you do. I eat with chopsticks, fumbling through my slowly diminishing hunger because you like a long dinner. I know all the right wineglasses now that you started bringing wine home everyday, and I love when we get drunk and laugh for hours. I drive slowly so I don’t crash and miss a night with you.
Your probably don’t see me, but I feign sleep and peek from beneath the covers as you sit Indian style in front of your mirror, putting on makeup and moving to the rhythm of routine. When we are in bed, I sometimes endure the aggravation of itches so as not to wake you. I open the door slowly on my to work in the afternoon, wincing at every creak so you will not feel alone as you nap.
Anytime I want to, I can recall the feeling of you on my lap and the warmth left by the backside of your legs. I get your newspaper for you so you do not have to have cold feet. I worry because your apartment building has a foyer with no lock that leads to your door. I kiss your tattoos as if I might never see them again.
You don’t see me cry for you, but I do. Maybe you hear the cracks in my voice and the fade of my sentences, but I won’t let you see the tears because nothing is wrong. It is joy, and I can’t even begin to explain it, even if you asked me to. I don’t have any words for those moments, but when I hug you longer than usual, you know why.
I pick what you like, because making you happy makes me happy. I see your beauty in the sway of the willows, and in the rolling breaks of the ocean that span past the reach of sight. You give me comfort like summer cottages with rickety hinges from my childhood vacations, toasty slippers by the bedside that a loved one quietly placed during my nap, and fresh soda bread that only my Aunt Alice can make.
Dose it out slowly, and go easy on me. I am a foolish man, and my dreams run me into walls.
- Ezra Fowler
Post Script- I know I didn't write it, but it's beautiful. I'll post later tonight, I promise. We all have a lot of catching up to do.

I'm getting strange with drink.. In Solon I take a booth alone in the back and play old tunes on the juke box, trying, I suppose, to feel some way I felt when I was young. But things keep breaking in. For instance, last night they had a live band and single men from surrounding farms kept asking me to dance. I wanted them to go away. I'm drunk, I said. I don't know how to dance, and kept trying to remember every time a man did me wrong. I wanted to scream at the men, leave me alone. Can't you see, I'm rotten. Go dance with decent farm girls. I don't remember dancing, but I know I danced. Outside of these odd moments I am doing well. Marvin Bell is fun to work with. The load is light. No complaints except for weather. In the west where we have mountains, we can always assume that hidden from us but coming is something better. Here, no illusion. The weather, seldom good, goes on forever. It covers a dozen states. For instance, if it's lousy like usual in Cincinnati, it's equally lousy here in Iowa City. That's what's getting me down. At night in my trailer home I drink alone into the early hours listening to Chicago on the radio, a sentimental all night station.. Last night they featured Benny Goodman. And I think over and over of a hundred rejections at the hands of merciless men. And of men leaving. I think some days I should be like you and embrace religion, and hope to create for myself a definite stance that keeps people away while I keep looking for my real disposition, and not go to bed starving like I do, bitter and plotting revenge. I have a plan, not serious, for killing myself and leaving behind a beautiful note in red paint or blood on the ceiling, worded so the words would crawl into the ears of men I have known like an ultrasonic hum. And they would go mad, my life forever on their hands, my words forever in their brains. The trouble with that plan---they don't print the contents of suicide notes in the papers. A conspiracy to discourage poets and drunks. And besides, I happen to like Benny Goodman and booze, and maybe tomorrow they'll play him again...Five A.M., and I'm wobbling off to a dream of sea nymphs issued by the sea.
-Richard Hugo (Edited)

Anyone ever played the wonderful game called "Beer Pong"? Now that I tell you, is a great source of entertainment...
Hey Marguerite...."It's okay! We're in a FIG, we're in a FIG!!!!"
"INTERFERENCE, MOTHERFUCKER!!"

We never thought that you were gone, until we turned the lights on and spoke to your God; But he ain't saying nothing, except for some thing about your life going to waste in more ways then one...I never liked him anyway. You push it most days when you're young, and then one day they grow up and everyone's wrong. They can't teach you nothing, they give you nothing, so you get thinking..."maybe there's a phase, where everyone floats south in never ending lemonade." Inside of myself, daylight is almost waking up slow, and wondering how sometimes it isn't always good in here. What made you go, and when did you get back from Mars? You circled 'round odd fallen stars, and reached out for the lightning until you were stung, until there was a nice ring. The only right thing, so you get thinking, "maybe in a way, I'll never know for sure the full sad of everyone." And hey, is there anyone known who gets along just great with everyone on all the days?"

"Christina? You're fabulous! Here's some nookie, and here's some for next weekend too!
Charlene? I hate you. Have some homework. No nookie for you.
Now get back to your bitchwork before I come after you with a broom."
-GOD

Thanks to the Man of Steel, Shaquille O'Neal, and his uber-sidekick, Kobe Bryant, the Lakers have flown out of the gate this season with six straight wins, and have won an even more impressive 29 of their last 30 games since this past April. The question is no longer how do you beat the Lakers, but can anyone beat them at all?
Thanks Timmy ;)

DAMN YOU, MURPHY!!! DAAAAAMMMNNN YOOOUUUU!!!

My lover's gone,
His boots no longer by my door.
He left at dawn,
And as I sat I felt him go.
Returns no more,
I will not watch the Ocean,
My lover's gone,
No earthly ships will ever bring him home again.

I got a B on my midterm! GO ME AND NOT GETTING RAPED IN THE ASS!!
I get to register for my classes at 4pm today. This is, of course, after reworking my schedule about sixty million times. German 302, History 152, Human Sexuality 265, Photojournalism 205, Psychology 195, Chamber Choir, and Billiards. So I get to play pool twice a week in the middle of my classes. Yay! And on Thursdays, I don't have to get up till ONE!! :) Which beats this 10am class every day bullshit I did this semester. Trust me, it didn't take me long to figure out that Charlene prefers afternoon classes. Especially since she likes to go out at night now, hehe.
Anyway, off to work on my evil papers. Love y'all.

"I walked around my good intentions, and found that there were none...."

Okay, quick addition before I go to bed. I'm so excited to go home for thanksgiving, but at the same time I could wait. Probably because as of yesterday I had a midterm, three papers, a research paper, and a project due before I leave. Gaaah.
I took my midterm this morning, after only getting about five hours of sleep. Can we get a big, fat round of applause for insomnia? Yeah!! Probably because I slept so much of the weekend, my body didn't think it needed to go to bed last night. Too bad me brushing my teeth, washing my face, changing into a T-shirt and crawling into bed while turning the lights off wasn't enough of a hint. *sigh* just in case, we're popping a Tylenol PM tonight. It's been a year today (to the day, actually! Oooh...weird) since my uh, mishap...so hopefully my body won't reject it, in which case I will be running to the bathroom in a few minutes to pay homage to the porcelain god. Oh well, haven't done that since my Boz trip anyway.
Okay, off to dreamland.....see you all there.

My memory fails me,
At one,
One-fifteen a.m.
Legs twitching,
Half my body 20 degrees warmer than the other.
Rush to sleep,
My escape can only last so long.

All right, that's it. I've OFFICIALLY decided that happy people annoy the fuck out of me. You know the type. Giggling up and down the hallway, excited all day about nothing in particular, always giddy to the point where they come off as if they're lacking brain stems. Maybe it's because I missed something. What, exactly, is there to be so goddamn giddy about?
As far as I'm concerned, there's two levels of happiness, and two seasons for them. Spring and Summer.
Spring's the quasi-happy level, and Summer's where you're actually allowed to be happy. That's it. Let the people have their dark, damp, downright depressive winters already, would ya?! We put up with happy shit long enough.
Okay, so what....I'm a depressive person. I like being depressed. It's a hell of a lot more satisfying than being happy.
Happiness seems so shallow and worthless. It's a high, granted....but it's just a shallow plane with no levels.
Being depressed however, lets you see things in a whole different light. There's hills and valleys with different shades of grey.....and of course it all makes much more sense if you're listening to Pink Floyd.
Garrrr.......Bah-humbug.
As William Vanderbilt said...."The public be damned."

Gaaah. Thank god we have no school today, I think my brain would have escaped out of my ears if I had to go to class. I can't wait for Thanksgiving to go home and see everyone. Too bad I have an English paper, Mass Media Journalism research Paper, Interpersonal Comm. paper, German paper, and a FIG project due before I can go home. Terrible, isn't it? Oh yeah, I also have a midterm tomorrow.
I can't believe how fast this three day weekend went by. You know the saying, "time flies when you're having fun?"....yeah okay, maybe not exactly the reason mine went by so fast, but close enough. I slept a communicative 32 hours over the weekend. I couldn't believe it, but damn did it feel good.
Went to bed at one last night, and woke up at one this afternoon. Then decided that my room looked too much like the rooms on the boys floor, so I spent about four hours organizing drawers, dusting, vacuuming, mopping, throwing shit out...it sucks packing so much stuff into a teeny room. Oh well, I got it done at least...and it helped me procrastinate the studying for my midterm I still have to do.
*sigh* I guess I'll hop to that now.....

Okay, lets try this again.
I feel like I'm not going anywhere. Groundhog day. I hate that movie. I keep waking up into the same rediculous day over and over again. Nothings done, nothings accomplished. But I don't feel like changing it either. I'm afraid of the future, I'm afraid of the past. I'm stuck in the middle of three safe days, with months passing by but I don't move my feet.
There's steam on the windows from the chicken soup...I can barely see out to a comm tower about fifteen miles away up on the ridge. That's where I want to go. I feel like I keep looking for something I can't find, and I'm desperate, I'm thirsty...it's like time is running out, but I'm lacking the modivation to go out and find it anymore. I want it to come find me, walk up six flights of stairs pass four doorways, turn left and absorb into me.
I've been dreaming a lot lately. Last night I was dreaming that I was in my room...in another dimension, all in all the same, but not..i guess. Anyway, there were trees outside just reaching over a hillside with the most beautiful blood red sunset behind it. The leaves on the trees were black. It was like a painting...anyway, I guess I tried to get to my camera in time, but then the sun was down behind the hill and it was only orange. But dull, kinda yellow, and no stars where out. I don't remember the rest of it.
Must not have been that important.

Virgin post. It's kinda wierd at the same time....its feels empty and unlived in. or worked in. Whatever.
Maybe we'll save the breaking in for another day.

November 13th, 2000:
I've lost myself,
There's nothing left,
It's all gone....deep inside of you.