An Accomplishment Three Years in the Making.

I've done it. I've finally done it.

Monday, July 28, 2008: 12:21 AM EST -- The last of all my poems was finally posted to my FictionPress account. Nearly two weeks and 140 poems later, I'm sitting in my seat... exhausted, shivering, thrilled.

I've gotten in that time...

157 profile hits
36 reviews (with them still pouring in!)
13 Favorite Story notices
4 Favorite Author notices
2 Author Alerts (which means these people want to know when I post anything new)

...And tons of hits to my stories.

I want to give a huge thanks to everybody who dared to read any of my works, whether you told me or not. I also want to thank those who bothered to sit around and listen to my babbling during those episodes where I was totally wrapped up in my works. I want to thank everybody who encouraged me to keep at it until they were all up, because it was a daunting task.

With all my poems finally posted, I can easily add any new ones without much hassle. I can also return my focus on my fiction project, which also got a bit neglected due to the FictionPress craze.

I am so thrilled and happy right now. It's an accomplishment three years in the making.

Past Few Days

It's been a peculiar past few days.

My body loves to flip and rotate when I sleep and when I wake, so the past few days had me on a schedule of 9 AM bedtime and 6 PM wake-up. Meh. I think I'm now on a 1 AM - 6 AM schedule... dunno how long it'll last.

I've been on and off socializing with my sister and her friend during the times that I'm awake. They stay until all hours of the night. Speaking of which... my sister and our mother got their second tattoos yesterday, and my sister's friend got his lip pierced. As I sit here with only two piercings per ear, I feel like I'm so mild compared to them. Both the tattoos are nice and tasteful (my sister's was more unconventional and cute--a rainbow star on each knee), so I have no complaints. They still keep asking me when I'm gonna get one... but my mom hates my idea and I don't see myself ever sitting still for a needle. Ever.

That and I don't have the money... as I learned painfully yesterday. Somehow my account has overdrawn by $200, which means I'm probably gonna wind up $400 in the hole before it's all said and done. Means a 25-minute trip to the bank this morning when they open in about an hour. Fortunately, my mom and stepdad were nice to me about it (as usually they handle these things with lots of yelling), so handling it wasn't as bad as I thought. Still... I'm having to go back through my records to see what the hell went wrong.

(It's probably due to damned fuel prices, as I've been driving so much this summer that I've been fueling more than I should. That, and I'm a sucker who will buy completely unnecessary things for people just because they say they want it. Sigh. Luckily I'm headed back to Columbus within the next three weeks, and staying with Dad had taught me frugality [is that a word?]. Apparently I need to go relearn my lessons.)

The only big news to report in the coming week is that Mom and Mike (my stepfather) will be headed out of state on Thursday for a 5-day trip to Panama City Beach, Florida. They told us that if we could get the money, we could take some friends and go. However, as I no longer seem to have any money... if everybody pooled together money to go, I'd be unable to attend. I have a nasty luck when it comes to "vacations." In fact, I never take them. I always get sick or have feminine "issues" right upon arrival. That, or the weather refuses to comply.

Y'know, I'm gonna stop talking about it before I get frustrated or sad. I'm gonna see about possibly downing a bowl of cereal or something before I have to go make this trip to the bank. From there, I'll come home and... I dunno. Lounge.

I need to make sure I'm online at a decent time today... I've been suffering withdrawals.

Trucking Along.

Another night gone by. Time flies when you're writing.

I've written 14 pages tonight on my recent project, which is proving to be a lot of fun and very hard for me to pull my thoughts away from. The story is actually at a staggering 61 pages, and I'm not even into the climax of the plot. I think this may end up spawning into the longest story I've ever written. The current record is 101 pages, and that was a severe stretch.

I've neglected my FictionPress again by accident... I get so wrapped up in my story-writing that I tend to forget everything else.

I wasn't even aware it was a quarter to 5 until I paused to stretch.

I'm gonna see about catching some sleep. I just now realized how tired I am.

The Origins of My Brand of Writing. (Lengthy.)

Tonight I'm gonna do a ramble about why I write the way I do. The origins behind what writing was and is to me. It will get long, I know, but I do hope someone reads it through and can see that there is, in fact, method to my madness. I hope someone reads through this and takes the time to look back at themselves and realize a long-lost dream. I hope it's an eye-opener. Anyway... let's proceed.

I'm taking another day to posting the remainder of my poems. As I've looked back on the reviews I've gotten, I notice how my macabre poems of death and fear seem to be my greatest hits. So this morning came my greatest dark poem to date, titled "Visionary." It's a very grotesque piece about a psychic girl suffering a horrifying vision in her sleep... inspired by a night terror I've actually experienced before. It, along with the rest of my poetry, should be up on my FictionPress account within the next day or so.

A friend and I were talking early this morning and I told him I thought I might wind up being the next Edgar Allan Poe, although I will never be as amazing as Poe ever was. Poe was a god amongst writers, and I love his work. Emily Dickinson is also an inspiration to my poetry love. Getting back on track, however, I've decided my forte seems to be in dark poems involving torment, mental anguish, insanity, and sorrow/rage.

As a child, I was extremely gifted in the art of speech and writing. (They wanted to have my IQ tested when I was all of 4, but my mother refused.) I spoke complete sentences around one; walked at nine months; taught myself to read at two... I knew my alphabet and how to count at two as well... the list goes on. As much as I like to act like I'm not, I'm intellectually advanced. I've just dumbed myself down tremendously over the years. (Knowing the dictionary definition for any word ever created isn't cool when you're 9.)

Originally, I wrote for school assignments... and my teachers ate my writings up. They always wanted me to read my short stories to the class and were moved by my poems when I was all of 9 and 10 years old. My poems came from my overactive imagination. It stemmed from my ADHD and the fact that I didn't quite fit in with everybody. My mind burst at the seams with ideas and pictures.

But as I matured, the source of my inspiration dwindled. I wrote because of my imagination and the "magic" that exists in childhood. I turned 10, and the world seemed to spiral down. For several years, I didn't write unless it was for school, and even then I dreaded it. It was as if the well had dried up. I tried my hand at drawing and art. My teachers never gave me anything higher than a C and always criticized me for being "unconventional."

Nobody likes to be told they're "not normal." At least, not when you struggle so hard to fit in and be liked.

Finally, I put away all my artistic dreams and let them roam my dreams instead, laying awake until odd hours of the morning imagining all the things I could've drawn or written. Back in the day, it was my simple pleasure. Today, it makes me feel sad for myself... it sounds so lonely and tragic. Stifling the creative passion and keeping it all within. Instead, I launched myself into video games and socializing.

Video games aren't real people; the socializing wound up leaving me harrassed daily and in the middle of one of the stupidest rumors in my middle school career. The teachers fell in love with my assignments. They asked me why I kept it all secluded, and I never bothered to realize what writing truly was to me. I simply called it "working on the assignment."

I never bothered to say it was a hobby; a longtime dream... a passion.

(Warning. We're getting into touchy territory now.)

I was thirteen when my grandmother left this world. I remember being called out of my classes to be told, "We have to go to Columbus, and we have to go now." It's as if it all happened yesterday... being whisked down the highways and seeing all my family gathering. I am the second oldest of four children. My older cousin was 17. I was 13. My younger cousin was 12, and my sister was 11. As the younger children were girls, they came to me. They came to me asking what was wrong. It was a young age for such a crisis. I comforted them and turned off every emotion I had in my body. I remember it all.

After the funeral, those ideas I had in my head slowly turned dark. Her loss caused me to suffer my first "night terror," in which I dreamt I was trapped in a casket, buried alive, hearing the mourners above sobbing for me but yet nobody could hear me say I was alive. ...It was symbolic for my grandmother's demise. I was in such strong denial. I swore they had buried her alive.

The dreams I had by night of plotlines slowly darkened. I dreamt that she was alive, only to turn to dust in my hands. I nearly lost my mind, having absolutely nowhere to go to vent my pain and sorrow. It was building and growing inside of my heart, so much that I nearly lost my own life. I was hurting and I didn't know how to make it go away.

Then one day, as we were going through her belongings, my mother found a letter I had written to her when I was 5. My grandmother... had locked it in her firebox. With shaking hands, I read my words. The second I saw, "I love you," I dropped the paper and sobbed until I couldn't anymore.

That night, I found the will to write again. I wrote an epic, four-page poem releasing all the anguish and hurt. When it was all said and done, I felt empty but so much better. In the most tragic way possible, the well of inspiration began to flow again, and I began to write with renewed vigor.

I use writing as a way to vent out the emotions I've kept buried and hidden. A lot of depressed energy pours into each piece that I create. I used a character named Daniel to reflect myself in written form. My poem "Smiling Misery" was the best depiction of not only him, but of myself. Sometimes to this day, he still shows up, although now I seem to channel myself more through Lucafira.

Most of my poems are very hard to decipher. Many have multiple meanings. My piece "The Red Day" is my best example of this. Not only is the title full of multiple meanings (Valentine's Day and the content within the poem); the entire piece held many meanings. It was a tragic love poem... but it was also a memorial to those lost in Virginia Tech. Also, the gunman was symbolic for all the troubles that tried to kill a relationship.

Another piece, "Losing Hope," was a multi-meaning piece. Not only was the title literal in meaning, it was figurative. The characters were named Chance, Hope, and Joy, which are emotions. Chance betrayed his love for Joy, and Joy betrayed him and ultimately caused him to lose Hope. If you read the sentence again, you see the emotional connection.

My poems are highly morbid, sad, miserable, and sometimes grotesque. It's an unconventional style for poetry. Poems are often depicted as happy pieces about love and happiness. And while happiness is an easy feeling to portray in poems, writing about insanity is often a lot more challenging. And people love to take a trip through someone's destroyed mentality. It's one of human nature's disgustingly tragic traits.

As a child, I ran from being "unconventional." I denied it and it hurt. But today, as a grown woman, I learn that unconventional is not as it used to be. I've been told that I'm destined to do something great. My dream in life is that maybe one day my writings will impact someone and inspire them to not hide their own creativity. My dream is to help someone understand and embrace their "abnormal" or "unconventional" ways and know they can go on to do great things.

It's taken me 20 years to learn this myself, and it's a wonderful feeling. And my dream now is that someone will benefit from it.

An Experiment for the Future.

Today was a fascinating discovery.

While uploading my photos to my PhotoBucket, I discovered that one of the pictures of my bedroom in Columbus was full of orbs. The next shot of my bedroom, taken maybe 30 seconds later, shows none. The shot is coated in orbs. Neither my other bedroom photo, nor any other shot from within the house, shows this. It was unnerving to make such a discovery. So tonight I got to thinking. I went to one of my old favorite websites, and checked out the "Haunted Places" section.

Go to this page and scroll down until you find the places for Columbus, Fayetteville, and Newnan.

I intend... to travel to some of them. In particular, Columbus's "Crybaby Bridge" and Newnan's Cedar Creek bridge.

I used to attend Northgate High School, which is, in fact, haunted. The school is indeed built on a cemetery--I've stepped foot on it before. Our teacher took us there one day before Halloween. The second we stepped foot on it, I didn't feel right. My stomach dropped, my body grew cold, and I heard a voice saying, "Get off here. Get off our land." I'd walk down the hallways and feel like someone was walking with me. A teacher said his computer shut off right before his eyes, and he saw a child run down the sidewalk.

My father's house sits on the same property as Parkhill Cemetery, where, amongst the hundreds (if not thousands) of others, most of my family is buried. When I'm in his house at night, I'm constantly bombarded by random energies. I've been touched and tickled... had my hair played with and my face stroked. I've heard a child's giggle, and had an orb follow me for an hour at a time. But I've also been attacked in my sleep here by nasty forces that try to suffocate me with my own pillows.

But the image of my bedroom... with no other orbs to be found anywhere else... has got me questioning myself. I've always told myself that I'm a sensitive who can pick up on the energies of anything around myself. But am I more than that? Do I have a larger connection to the otherworld than I, myself, could even imagine?

These trips I intend to make aren't for the thrill of, "Oh my God, I saw a ghost." No. These trips aren't for the fear factor. They're for proving something. To myself. I have to know... if I'm not staggering blind in a paranormal world. I have to know if they will trust me enough to show themselves to me.

I've been told for years that they believe I'm psychic. I have visions all the time that almost always come true. I have dreams in which things happen, and I tell a friend, who becomes frightened when I relay to them something that happened to them just a day before. I can feel someone's energy even when they aren't around, and I can tell when someone is upset just by being beside them.

But now I have to know for sure.

I will find a way to make these trips. I will find a way to go and endure the paranormal frights that may befall me. I have to know.

I'm having a minor identity crisis.

Taking a Strange Physical Assault.

It sort of feels like I'm being continuously beaten. My shoulders and my lower body are taking some sort of metaphysical punishment, and I'm sitting here gritting my teeth and wincing. It hurts, and my head feels like it's spinning wildly. Kind of like a downward spiral that's unstoppable.

(I've done some "music therapy" to calm my otherwise frazzled state. Blasting music and "screaming" along to the lyrics is remarkably calming...)

Yeah, it's frightening as hell. But it's also kind of awesome, because it's wonderful energy to fuel into more writing. I've been neglecting a story for a while, and it's time it got more writing. The energy gets channeled, as I'm skilled in doing.

I've watched three movies tonight that have given me some inspiration for action scenes and some twisted darker scenes. My brain is pulsing with inspiration and thoughts, and so my body is "beating" itself up so that I get some writing done before I sleep and lose it all.

Sleepiness and a mild caffeine high does this to a person.

I'm feeling awake but exhausted, hurting but pleased, and I'm ready to hit the writing with all the force this body has to offer...

Believe in Me.

I'm a bit more rational now... although I'm still hurting deep down inside. In my sleepless state... I found this song... (Yes, I'm still bashing my head out with Linkin Park's "Given Up," as I still feel like that.) It sounded just like how I've felt today. I sat here and sang it repeatedly until I couldn't anymore. As I lack any other way to tell how I feel besides the songs I play and the words I write...

This is for the person I hurt badly earlier this evening.

The Confession

She's been sitting in her misery.
Her tears have finally went dead.
Writing out drafts of an apology
And the confessions in her head.

Puts a pencil in her shaky hand;
Chews on her lip, makes it blue.
More tears on the paper land,
And she starts, "Hello you."

"Hello you, this is my confession
Of all the thoughts I should have said.
You are my heart's obsession,
But I seemed to hurt you instead.

I was wrong, as I tend to be
But... God, I never meant you harm.
It's always later do I see
That I'm under evil's lying charm.

I sit here and pray to go back in time
To take back all the horrible things.
I want to apologize for my nasty crime
And all the sadness that it brings."

She puts the pencil down for just a bit
To catch her breath and wipe her eyes
Then resumes again with sharper wit
Writes more through stifled cries.

"Hello you, it's just me again-
The one who sees the world in you.
I guess on me you can't always depend,
But know my love is strong and true.

Sometimes I know it has to seem
That I don't seem to really care.
But you reside in my every dream
And I know you're always there.

I wish I was a better, stronger soul
For when you fall upon the ground...
Oh, my love, you make my entire world
Even when you're not around...

I know today I made a huge mistake
And left a hole within your heart.
But know my love will never be fake
And this apology is where I start

To show just how much you mean to me.
I'll never make this error go away,
But I hope my sincerity you can see
And know I want you so badly to stay."

She finishes while laying in her bed,
"Hello you, this is my confession,
And this is what I should have said.
I love you. You are my heart's obsession."

The World's Worst.

I say all the wrong things.

How come I take things out on the people I love? How come I make them feel like crap, then make it their faults that they feel that way?

It's no wonder I have no friends and can't maintain a relationship of any kind... I'm more abusive than I think I am.

I should never have crawled out of my hole this morning. Instead I should've put a rock over my hole and died in it. Instead I crawled out and hurt two very important people. Two people who are very close to me and mean the world to me.

Why can't I show them how much they mean to me? How come instead of showing them how important they are, I make them feel like crap and hurt them? What the hell is wrong with me?

I'm the world's worst. World's worst daughter, sister, lover, friend... you name it, I fail at it. Anyone familiar with Linkin Park's song "Given Up?" Yep. That's me.

I get angry at myself, so I turn my pain towards others. I'm pitiful. I'm an abusive soul who never should have been allowed to hurt others. I should never be allowed to make friends. I should never be allowed to trick people into loving me. I deserve no affections. I run them all away.

I want to turn back time. I want to have never said what I said. I want to instead done as I should have. I want to prove that I'm not as nasty as I've proven myself to be.

So I apologize. With all my heart, I apologize. I'm heartless. I'm rude and I'm wrong. I'm hateful, hurtful, mean, and selfish. I don't know how in the world I convinced anybody to put their faith in me... I never deserved it. There's a whole side of me nobody ever sees... and it's slowly coming to the surface. I'm sorry. So sorry. I took those angry blades and I stabbed you all instead. I've failed you all, and I am so, so sorry.

I'm crawling back into my hole... gonna stay there until I learn how to act like a human, not some sort of disgustingly heartless creature. I deserve every single tear that runs down my face right now. I deserve every ounce of pain I'm feeling in my chest. I'm going to crawl in my hole, put the rock over it, and refuse to come back until I've learned.

Take care until I've bothered to realize what kind of hideous person I truly am to the people who mean the most to me.








I love you, even if I don't deserve you.

Awesome Day. Pictures to Come.

Greetings, anybody who may have accidentally stumbled upon this page!

Today was the day. My sister, our friends Steve and Amy, and I loaded up into my car and took our first "official" "road trip." Despite everybody being sleepy, it got off to a great start.

Dad was in rare form and had a great time with everybody. The pool was all ours, and I took 80-something pictures and 4 videos of the action. At first I decided I'd stay on the side of the pool and snap pictures of everybody as they played, but then I got adventurous and, donning an inner tube (which I ended up wearing for most of the day), headed into the water for "waterside" photography.

As I am thoroughly exhausted and seeing blurry double-vision, I will upload all the pictures to my Photobucket and post some of the best shots here. (I will, of course, link to my Photobucket account so all the photos can be seen. Every single shot is a shot of hilarious awesomeness!)

We went to Ezell's for dinner. (DINNER. Hehe. Ask me about it if you don't get it.) We had to wait for a group of 30 elderly church patrons to be seated. They were... extremely rude. They took up nearly the entire restaurant and thought they owned the place, shouting across the dining area while their preacher happily bounded about from each table, loudly asking, "Hey, [insert name here]! How are you? How is [insert family member name here]'s [insert random medical ailment here] doing?" Another was showing off her grandbaby, who was very agitated.

**MINI-RANT!** Seriously! You people are old enough to know what common courtesy and respect are! Just because you're a devout [insert religion here] doesn't mean you can be rude and snotty to people who aren't associated with your church/facility. Do you know how frightening it is to be sat in a corner surrounded by all these senior citizens who are glaring at you as if you're the devil?

However, we didn't let the rudeness ruin our good times. The restaurant was a hit with our out-of-town friends, who thought the place was an eleven out of ten. My sister and I were thrilled to be eating there, as it's normally a treat reserved for special occasions. The shrimp was fantastic, and the fried pickles... wonderful!

After nearly getting shoved into a wall by four separate seniors (none of whom bothered to utter so much as an "excuse me"), I retreated outside while my sister and our friends picked up the tab, as planned. I spent well near $90 on the trip, with $61 of that being in fuel alone. Gah. Ouch.

We went back home and hit the pool again for round two of the hilarious insanity. Funny diving pictures are the win. Playing volleyball with a huge inflatable ball that dwarfs you is win. Being smacked in the face by said volleyball multiple times is lose.

By the time we got back into town around 10 tonight, we crawled into the nearest sit-in restaurant, had dinner (DINNER. I love it.), swapped phone numbers (as I didn't have Steve and Amy's numbers and they didn't have mine), and dropped everyone off at home.

The only casualties of the day was Amy's scraped knee (which looked brutal, but she's tough and said it looked worse than it felt), Steve's slightly hurt ankle (he's also tough and ignored it), and my pulled muscle in my leg... Which I was tough and walked it out... although I pulled said muscle while underwater in the deep end, which caused me to involuntarily gasp in pain and flail to the surface choking up water. Good times! I's fine though. I've pulled both legs at the same time in the deep end and somehow managed to claw my way out of the water. It hurt like hell but yeah. What can you do?

Oh yeah. With the exclusion of Amy, we're all burned on our faces, shoulders, chests, and backs. My face is more hot than stinging, and my shoulders are warm as well. Apparently I should be hurting from how red my arms are, but my tolerance for pain is rather high and I'm not really bothered by it. ...That and I'm lucky in that the red burn will darken into a tan within the next 24 hours.

...Mm. I's rambling. I'm gonna go crash into bed, as I've slept maybe 40 minutes in two days. Dani needs rest.

Pictures to come tomorrow!

The Dinner Blaster and Several Others.

Er. Yes.

So anyway, after getting my head out of the pile of papers... I've been neglecting this thing, haven't I? Eeps.

My reasons?

1. I finally tracked down all my poems over a span of three years. The total? 138. I've been attempting to post them to my FictionPress account. I was moving at a clip of 10 - 30 poems a day for a few days, but slacked off yesterday. The account is by no means completely updated, but if anyone cares to venture to read my pieces, feel free. I do warn that some contain strong language and very triggering themes.

2. Continuing on the literary path... I started working on a new project. I'm gonna move away from the poetry (although I'm sure I'll still write when I'm struck with random bursts of creativity) and focus on a story instead. I'm excited about being able to start on this project, and I may even post it onto the above account. However, I haven't gotten too far into plot to consider it post-worthy. It's still epic, though!

3. Socializing... late at night. There's always fun in going to Wal-Mart at midnight and eating in their parking lot, then buying screaming rockets and going home to set them off. Or, at least, there is when you're in mine, my sister, and my sister's friend's world.

4. YPP issues. The more I've sat in my crew lately, the more I'm finding myself pushed to the wayside. I just logged off after watching me attempt to talk to one crewbie, only to have him talk to the captain when she logged on. Apparently I no longer exist in this crew, and if I weren't so cowardly, I'd abandon ship. Meh.

I's been busy. Oh? The title of this entry? Go to YouTube and look up "Dinner blaster." Although I warn you that it's very dangerous to your mental health. I've been watching it over and over, laughing my head off. But then again I'm easily amused.

I need to call it a night, even though it's technically morning. So...

It's a night.

An Old Poem.

In light of conversation I've had today... I went back through my archives of poetic prose and found this.

Mirrors of Memorials

written September 30, 2006

Look into the mirror

See the reflection of your memorial...

Do not fear you are forgotten

For I have taken you in

You will not be a distant thought

In the back of a lonely mind...

No...

You will not be lost

In one of a thousand tears...

I'll sing for you

For you were so strong and bold

You followed your own tune

And so I shall carry it on with me

Singing it loud for all to hear...

I'll sketch for you

For you inspired me so greatly

Your teachings were beautiful masterpieces

That I have folded neatly away

In my mental portfolio

My creative outlet will explode

With mirrorized memorials...

I'll strum a tune for you

For you were so dear to me

I know you used to strum out wonderful tunes

You left me when I was so young...

You did not mean to sail away

But I know you are doing well,

I see you in the sky...

I'll strum the chords ringing in my heart

And hope I've made you proud...

I'll write for all of you

For my words are my strongest trait

Words cannot express the longing I have

To be there with you again

Forget me not, for I still have you here with me...

Look into the mirror and tell me what you see...

What I hope is that it's your memorial

And that it makes you proud.

I hope you see me...

And one day the mirror will

Connect me to you for the final time...

Has It Fallen Out of Orbit?

I am a habitual creature. I have to have a routine, or the world isn't right. I feel safe within the confines of a schedule, keeping me bound to reality and keeping my otherwise scattered mind on some sort of path. If my routine deviates in a small way, I find myself often frustrated and/or disoriented.

But today... the entire world around me seemed to have fallen out of its natural routine. As I type, my eyes are blank and blinking robotically. My typing is strangely rhythmic, and my voice, if spoken, is very gentle and empty. It is as if my spirit has gone into hiding deep within my body, and I'm running on autopilot. Sleep-deprivation? Possibly. But I do feel like a puppet on a string presently.

Today, I ventured out to Peachtree City with my sister and mother for a doctor's appointment. It was beautiful and sunny when we departed the house, but the sky kept deteriorating into darkness. My intuition kicked into gear, and my stomach began to do its "thunderstorm alert" pains.

My intuition... is amazingly accurate. Where I lack common sense, I make up for it in intuition. It's frightening.

A nurse told all of us patrons in the waiting room that a storm was approaching. I decided to go to the car to get the umbrella, as a precaution. I stood outside beside my car and felt the stillness in the air. The air was not as thick with humidity, and there was not a whisper of wind to be felt. Thunder was off in the distance. Something felt... weird... about this. I was quick to do my task and get back indoors. A short while later, a nasty storm poured from the sky. Trees blew sideways and lightning cracked the sky in two.

Nature's anger continued for at least thirty minutes before subsiding away. Ten minutes of very heavy silence fell upon everything. Then, sirens. Ambulances. Police cars. Sirens. It was eerie. Mom came out and we made our way to pick her up lunch. We passed another ambulance, siren blaring, along the way. We delivered her home and decided to run out for lunch as well. On the way home from this trip, we passed another ambulance and a car accident.

After lunch, we were instructed to go pick up Mom's medication. When we got to the traffic light right before the store, it was out. Everyone was driving madly, and I was horrified at the prospect of traversing this massive intersection. So I chose a different route.

Only that one traffic light was out.

We got home and I declared that I wouldn't go back out again. It was scary. Things weren't right. But I wound up going out again to pick up my sister's friend after his truck broke down. We ended up all staying out until 3:00 this morning. We drew chalk drawings in store parking lots, launched screeching balloons until we were too tired to chase them down, and caused chaos. But when the three of us returned home to hang out for a bit, my sister left me alone with her friend.

We sat in the driveway, drawing with chalk and coloring rocks. Talking about things I never knew he thought about. We watched two bats fly through the air, snacking on bugs. We did this for an hour, then I took him to a place I never had been to before to drop him off at another friend's house. Somehow, I made it back on my own. But as I got out of the car at the end of the driveway to pick up the paper...

It felt as if someone snuck up behind me, grabbed my shoulder, went for my throat, then prodded my shoulder-blade as if to tauntingly comfort me. I quickly got into the house and locked myself in.

Reflecting back on today has made me feel very eerie and out of place. As if I've fallen into a parallel universe, and I'm a parallel version of myself. Someone more calm and reserved. Maybe in a twisted sense, I have. Then again, I have moments where I like to think about these philosophical things that make people look at me like I'm crazy. Maybe it's possible. Nobody knows. But it makes me wonder.

I... am not myself right now. I don't feel like Dani. Maybe she'll come back upon the next awakening.

Random Inspiration From Nothing.

So when I get emotionally detached, I get inspired? This doesn't happen usually...

Anyway, this is my disconnected creation. It's short, but it's the best way I describe this.

NonExist

The sun may shine but there is no light;

The rain will fall but there is no ground.

There is a war but no one dares to fight;

There is laughter but there is no sound.

She opens her eyes but she is blind.

She opens her mouth but has no voice.

She tries to think but has lost her mind.

She makes a decision but has no choice.

There is no wind to brush through the air

That hangs stagnant and nearly dead.

There is emptiness everywhere in nowhere...

It kills the world instead.

And there she sits in her little void of space

Staring with two mirrors of broken glass.

There's an expression of nothing upon her face

As she holds a heart of rusted brass.

And is it true that she even exists,

Or is she just an elaborate fabrication

Of someone who finally decided to quit

Using its heart's imagination?

My Precious Babies.

I finally found my old digital camera... and since I seem to be bragging about my plants a lot... I'm gonna post pictures of my precious babies. First up...


This is Luigi. He got his name for being tall and a little awkward-looking in comparison to the other cactus that were up for grabs. He was also shy in appearance, as he was hiding all the way back in the very back, trying to blend in. He has an awesome stone vase! I like the vase.


Secondly, we have Toad. He got his name for being short and hiding on the bottom shelf. He has an awesome "habitat" style home with a fishy statue. Toad doesn't like to be alone, I guess.


Finally... it's Boo! He's my unoriginally named, lucky bamboo plant. He has a cute little vase that matches his style. And he stands beside a fountain, so he isn't alone.

There will be more pictures in a little while, maybe. Depends on how motivated I get to clean up my room.

Have fun!

Before I Go to Bed.

Just a quick little bulliten (and reminder for myself)...

I found my digital camera last night. Sometime tomorrow I'll be able to finally post pictures of Luigi, Toad, and Boo.

...And maybe, if I clean my room up a bit, display it, too. Keep in mind my room's theme is nowhere near completed...

Excitement reigns.

I just hope to God I can pull myself off my GameBoy Advance. I got some new games for it, and I'm hooked on them. (Seven hours straight gameplay in one night... whoops!)

Flipping Around Again?

Surprisingly, I'm writing this 20 minutes after I woke up. I think I may have flipped my rhythm back so that I'm sleeping at night.

So my sister and I spent a good four or five hours out together yesterday, hitting the town. We went to several stores around Newnan, and even drove through Fayetteville for the sake of driving around aimlessly.

I ended up coming home with two pairs of flip-flops (which I usually don't wear but figured, why not?), a white tiger plush in remarkable likeness to my tiger Novuelia on YPP, and a miniature fountain to go sit beside Boo and make pleasant running water noises.

But then we came home and I ended up asleep by 5:45. I desperately needed the sleep though.

I'm feeling pretty good having woken up just now. I'm used to waking up at 4:20 because I used to do it for school last semester. Fortunately, I don't have to do that anymore, but it did train my body to adapt to being awake at this hour.

That said, I think I'm gonna see if anyone's awake. If not, I'll hook my GameCube up and play some Mario Kart: Double Dash.

After a Weekend's Headache...

...Literally.

Well, happy Monday to all. I'm back up on my feet (slightly) after spending the entire weekend fighting with a nasty headache. I literally slept most of the weekend away due to an awful pounding and grinding pain in the back of my head that refused to cease. Apparently what I should've done to start with was swallow some Benadryl and Ibuprofen and take an hour's nap. I finally broke and did that late last night and have felt much better since.

I'm chalking it up to either sinus or allergy issues. I'm prone to both.

Anyway. I'm back up on my feet again, and my sister and I apparently are gonna hit the town today... surprisingly during daylight hours. She and I are both creatures of the night, so being out in daylight will bear interesting. She wants to hit Peachtree City (PTC as we Newnan kids call it) and see about buying me another pair of white shoes.

My little sister is an amazing artist. When it comes to artistic talent, I bow to her. I bought a pair of $5 tennis shoes, and she colored them up for me. So now I have an awesome pair of Mario-themed tennis shoes, which I'm wearing as I type. She said if I take her to PTC and buy another pair of shoes, she'd make me a pair of shoes in a Luigi motif. I have an awesome sister, and I'm gonna miss spending time with her once I go back to school in August.

See, she and I are more alike than we like to let on. We're prone to finishing each other's thoughts sometimes. Her friends get frightened when she and I say the same quote at the same time in the exact same voice. We're both artistic, but in separate methods. We both draw, but she's more for "trippy surrealism" while I'm more of a "modern cartoon" artist. We both write, but I'm more prone to scribble stories than her. On this escapade we'll be doing today, we'll be getting more ideas for our semi-fanfiction story we're working on. She said she'll do some drawings for it if I write the story out. We might post it online somewhere soon. Details on that are later.

Anyway, I guess I've rambled enough. Time to dry this mop I call hair and get on my way.

Pixels Have No Flavor.

So to celebrate the Fourth, my sister and I loaded up on chips, candies, energy drinks, and video games. At midnight. I was on a huge sugar high from 1:30 to about 8:45 this morning, in which I set all kinds of new records on my Mario Kart 64 game. (Yes, I still play my N64 from time to time. It's awesome and I don't care what anyone says. MK64 is fun... now that I've got my rhythm back.)

Anywho.

I logged onto YPP for a reason I'm not quite sure about. The first message on my screen was an invite to go do a flotilla attack.

I said, "Well, I'm coming off a caffeine buzz and I'm really not sure why I even logged on. Are you sure you want a half-unconscious person sailing?"

The reply, "Works for me." Job invite follows.

Did you know I can puzzle in my sleep? No lie! I nodded off for about five minutes and woke up realizing I was unconsciously puzzling... and pulling Excellents. Not only Excellents, but running in the top five for the entire sailing division. To say the least, I'm quite amused. Apparently my puzzling prowess comes to me when I'm functioning in a state of sleep.

(I was also seeing blue pieces as purple; white as blue; yellow as orange. This made for fun times.)

Yeah. That's really all I had to say. I puzzled for two hours and still no Sublime. I want the Sublime medal so bad, I can taste it.

...If pixels had a flavor, that is.

Just Some Out-Loud Scheming.

I'm doing a bit of out-loud scheming so that maybe I'll stick to it... or remember it.

Room Redesign
I've split up my room into three "areas." The walls around my bed will be my 'fuzzy poster' theme. My bedset is already black and white, in honor of an uncolored velvet poster. My mother is working on some of the fuzzy posters of her own, but has willingly decided to donate them to my cause when she's finished. I'll have six or seven, but I'll probably go out and buy some more. I have a lot of wall-space.

Area two is going to be around my dresser, television area, and door. This is gonna be my 'Ode to Mario Games' theme. (Yes, I titled it.) I'm gonna print out and hang up cut-outs of all kinds of items related to Mario games and the character Luigi, as they're a big part of my personality. Also, with it being around the area where my video game consoles are hooked up (but currently unplayed)... it's cutely convenient.

Area three is going to be around my large window overlooking the backyard. I'm gonna keep this area as-is, which symbolizes my memorial to lost family members, as well as my more feminine side (which exists, but is deep in hiding). I'll probably go buy some more dragonfly-shaped lights and string them up along the length of my window.

I also need to go out and buy at least 400 of those stick-on, glow-in-the-dark stars, which I'll place all over my walls. This room is gonna look wild, but it'll represent me... I call the entire motif "An Appreciation for ADHD." Hehe.

It's gonna take a while yet for this room to be completed, but I excitedly await that day.

Oh, and Luigi, Toad, and Boo are all still alive and well. They adorn my room quite beautifully, although Boo might get a friend to come sit on the bookshelf with him. He seems sort of lonely.

A Small Recap

I've been neglecting this a little. Meh. Let's get to it.

So the past two nights have had me and my little sister running rampant across town at all hours of the night.

Tonight we shot off fireworks at my sister's friend's house. We launched off fireworks and ate watermelon, making a big mess of things in the process. We then loaded up in my car and drove to IHOP, where we wound up staying for well on two hours due to kitchen back-up. Although we got free pancakes and a free meal because the service sucked and because they couldn't keep it together.

...There is something absolutely hilarious about a moment of silence in a restaurant, followed by someone making their booth make a farting sound. The four of us (myself, my sister, her friend, and her friend's sister) had finally silenced when an inappropriate sound rang through the air. We laughed our mortal heads off until we were blue in the face. We are sooo mature. Haha.

So we dropped them off sometime around midnight, but I didn't wanna go home. So my sister and I traveled over to Peachtree City to check out their Wal-Mart. It's awesome, but we decided we didn't wanna support the rich people, so we bought nothing. Instead, we drove back to our neighborhood Kroger, in which we bought beverages. Mmm.

The night before last was a fun tale, too.

My sister and her friend (the same one in the earlier story) came over around midnight, and we all watched YouTube insanity until probably 2:30, then we went outside and sat in our side lot until probably 3:30 or 3:45. Then I decided Waffle House sounded good. So we piled up in my car and went on our way.

Our waitress... was... amazing. Although I wasn't sure if she liked me or not. She told me I didn't need any more caffeine and she sniped my tea from me. Meanie. She also told my sister that her meal was gonna cost fifty bucks. She kept telling me to be quiet and told me I didn't know how to behave, so naturally I agreed.

As we left, she informed me that I wasn't allowed to come back. I think we didn't leave that place until 4:45, and we would have stayed longer had we not had to get my sister's friend home before our stepdad woke up. Our stepdad doesn't like us coming home when he gets up to leave for work. He kinda doesn't like us going much of anywhere, but meh.

So yeah. That's what I've been up to the last few days. I'm off to drink some green tea and try to stay awake for a while. Not like I have anything better to do at nearly two in the morning.