Formerly Known As: OceanLily12
- Demonically Angelic
- Xiao Lu
Last Updated: 05/20/08
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http://rg-waffles.livejournal.com/
Grab an apple, or some sort of healthy snack (put down that pack of chips!)
because this is going to be mind-bogglingly long.
Or, like everyone else, you can scroll to the bottom where
your reason for coming here probably stands.
I'm going to be frank.
I'm ordinary. I'm so ordinary, I'm unique.
Yes, I hope that boggled your mind
I'm not a goth. I'm not a poser. I'm not a prep, or a jock, or emo, or whatever crazy clique that has distorted this generation. I'm not even the type of person who pretends not to be these things just so they can be recognized and praised as a norm of society.
Did you know that to not be these things is a clique as well?
"Remember that you're unique . . . just like everybody else."
I am simply me.
I. Am. Me.
Miscellaneous
The government is non-existent in my mind.
I view everything in a pessimisstic point of view, but that doesn't mean I don't enjoy life for what it is. Perhaps it just means that I'm more careful with details that few notice.
Goals in life? Careers?
The only goal I have in life is to get through it satisfied. As for my career, it seems I have lied to every single one of my teachers. In countless journal entries in English, essays in school, projects, researches, I have stated lie after lie.
I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up.
Yes, time is running out. Yes, I need to decide my future.
Stop pestering me, damn it.
Vocation
I want to write.
I want to draw.
I want to be entertained.
Yet no job has provided such things.
I've grown trying to perfect myself in all aspects, and it's all ending in nothingness. I can write, yet should I be an author? A poet?
So say my English teachers, who praise my work annoyingly without end.
I've studied countless instruments. I've developed a love purely for music. Should I be a musician?
So say my Band teachers.
I can draw. I love it greatly, yet should I be an artist? Delve into a life of pure art?
So say my Art teachers.
I say these things in hope of some help. Being a writer is great, but there aren't any people to meet. Most writers spend their time in isolation, and despite not being a people person, I enjoy having others around me. Being an artist is a lonely deal. Being a musician is a lonely deal as well. Where are the people with such vocations?
I have the ability to be whatever I want to be.
Yet perhaps I should share a room with the Motorcycle Boy (Rumble Fish, by S.E. Hinton) and Itachi (Naruto), take a page out of their books, because I'm quite sure we'd have everything in the world to talk about.
(If you understand, touche)
Help?
You-Know-It Phase
Pain is a phase or experience many people go through, as well as loss of persona or hope, and I'm still going through my phase. It's quite agonizing, for those of you who haven't entered it yet. And it may seem like the world is about to end, it may seem as if everything is unfair and the odds pushing with all their might against your chest, but you won't believe the relief you feel when you get through it.
Some have died trying to pass through it too quickly.
Others have died to escape the process.
If you are a survivor of such a phase, join me as we stand, hand-in-hand, at the edge of such pain and sorrow and loss. Extend your hand as I do mine to become the lifeline for another.
Everyone needs a helping hand.
Life Lesson #Uncountable
from Mrs. Connie Powers
Music, for some, is life.
It isn't just the heavy metal, or rock, or J-pop, country, etc. It isn't just the females who flaunt their bare bodies or the males who shake their head savagely to a point of brain cell destrction.
Mrs. Powers stood in front of our band class one day and asked us a question that I'll never forget:
"How many hours of music do you listen to a day?"
And us, taking the world for granted, growing up in a spoiled lifestyle, replied that we got an average of four because of the music we've downloaded onto our MP3's.
But we were proven wrong.
And I'll never forget her response:
"We listen to music every second of our lives."
I mean, think about it. As you type your stories onto the comuter, your keyboard gives that rat-tat-tat. It's a rhythm, is it not? As water boils on the stove, or as the fan spins round and round, or as the fire cackles maliciously at you, there's a rhythm. Perhaps you'll take this lesson as I did.
Mrs. Connie Powers will impact your life. She has mine. And even if she forgets me, or even if some hell overtakes the earth, I'll still be thinking about her.
Last Touch-Ups
There is never such a thing as coincidence.
You might agree, or you might shake your head and claim tyranny.
But I believe that everything happens for a reason.
After all, what are consequences for?
And don't you hate it when you do something you completely regret? Something that makes you feel horribly stupid afterwards? I've done that countless times on this website and outside of the prison cell that we call 'Internet'.
To those I've argued with, I'm sorry.
To those I've insulted, I'm sorry.
It's just something I have to do. At times, you think something is the right thing to do. For example, arguing with someone, or flaming someone who flamed you first in an author's note, or even just randomly telling a person you haven't met that you hate them.
It's the immaturity inside of us all.
And we're never going to grow out of it,
which is why I forgive anyone who flames me,
who hurts me,
who makes me cry.
Because I know I do it, too.
(Unless, of course, I know it was purely intentional and thought-out)
If you're on my favorite Author's List, it means I view you as someone special. I don't just put authors on because they're my friends,
or because they're my family,
or because they reviewed my work countlessly.
If you're on there, it means you've impacted me in some way, whether it be emotionally or mentally.
If your story is on my list, it means that I thought it was simply superb.
It means that I've read and reread it no less than three times.
It means I think about it whenever I think of my own stories.
The End . . . ing
If you're still here after all that mindless drabble, then please scroll down and pick out something you'd like to read. I'm guessing that's the whole reason you came to this thing in the first place.
Drop a message some time. I'm always up for a good chat, even if I seem like a girl (yes, I'm girl) with an anal probe that the aliens forgot to remove when they abducted me. I'm not a stiff, if that's what you're thinking. I'm glad to meet a new person any day.
Requests are always welcome, but only if I know who you are. You can't be someone random.
And no, you can't get to know me just because you want a story.
Because of people like those, because of the fake people in life, I have a friend count of
Seven.
Sure, I've got good friends and acquaintances, and so and so, but those three people are the ones who have been with me through-and-through, thick-and-thin, even if they haven't been with me for my entire fourteen years of life.
I'm a Teenager by Age, with the Mind of a Child, and the Intelligence of an Adult.
And it's time to end this thing with a few quotes that I hold near and dear!
"Man invented language to satisfy his deep need to complain."
"When you are courting a nice girl an hour seems like a second. When you sit on a red-hot cinder a second seems like an hour. That's relativity."
- Alber Einstein
"Sometimes the people you expect to kick you when you're down will be the ones to help you get back up."
"False friends are like our shadow, keeping close to us while we walk in the sunshine, but leaving us when we cross into the shade."
"I think the worst time to have a heart attack is during a game of charades...or a game of fake heart attack."
"My choice early in life was either to be a piano-player in a whorehouse or a politician. And to tell the truth, there's hardly any difference."
"I love deadlines. I especially like the whooshing sound they make as they go flying by."
- Douglas Adams
"It is no coincidence that in no known language does the phrase 'As pretty as an Airport' appear."
- Douglas Adams
"I write for the same reason I breathe - because if I didn't, I would die."
- Isaac Asimov
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