| Ctrl + SAlright, so what's the deal? I haven't logged onto xanga for some large number of months, and the whole site changes on me. I'm still lost and the only thing I recognize is this text box.
So, I have something to tell the world. I love this website, throughout all the years of abuse I put it through, all the angst ridden, cryptic blogs, the xanga people still haven't deleted my page. That's dedication, or indifference. Either way, it's good to know that when I am 25 or 30, I can simply type on my virtual keyboard "xanga.com/bloooblob", and there it is. An exoskeleton of my adolescent, now that's amazing. I love to preserve. I'm a preserver in a creator's costume. That's the reason why my room is full of boxes, and in those boxes are a bunch of useless things I'll never use. Instead of blogging about the morality of man, or about how my day was so interesting, or that Plato's Cave Allegory was ridiculous. Instead, I preserve my feelings at that particular moment, that's why most of them are so embarrassing to read. When I write a song, I would love for the song to preserve what I felt, and allow the listener to experience it as well.
I'm glad I didn't run off to Blogspot, they would've deleted my shit long ago.
|
| |
| This is a typical story about a how a good girl runs off with a bad ass rock star against her parent's wishes. Except the girl isn't so "good" and the rock star isn't so bad ass.
|
| |
| People
don't want their lives fixed. Nobody wants their problems solved. Their
dramas. Their distractions. Their stories resolved. Their messes
cleaned up. Because what would they have left? Just the big scary
unknown. - Chuck Palahniuk |
| |
| Cut!Sometimes I feel like an actor, waiting for my role in a scene to come up. After the scene is cut, I go back to my trailer and memorize my lines. Play it out, repeat. I really don't know what to do in between the scenes though, I wish I did.
|
| |
| Morning, WoodyI wake up to the woody show every morning, for twenty minutes, I lay there listening. I know exactly what's going on, but the second I get up, I forget it. Downside of being a head-trauma patient.
|
| |
