The Difference Between Photos and Reality.

NOTE: Slightly morbid post follows.

So tonight the family loaded up for a dinner outing. These are rare. Mom told us that she and our stepdad would probably go somewhere we'd get bored at after dinner, and told us to take one of our cars. Knowing we were gonna go down the Interstate, I told Mom that I'd handle it.

My little sister doesn't like driving much, while I tend to enjoy it. Not only that, but I think I'm really good at it. Both my parents were awesome drivers, and I think I inherited it. That, and I'm bolder on the Interstate than my sister. So we loaded up into my car and were on our way.

As we made our way towards the on-ramp, we saw a bunch of people standing on the overpass, looking out at the Interstate with phones on their ears. This is highly unusual, and it catches our attention. My sister suggests a jumper, and I shudder at the thought of what awaited us on the road.

We get onto the Interstate and come over the hill... and meet this horrible sight.

Twenty ambulances, including air transports. Several firetrucks. Flashing lights and blasting sirens everywhere. Tow trucks galore. Cars being put up on tow trucks that looked like they had flipped and spun and done all kinds of horrid things. Traffic stopped for miles. One car had its front end smashed all the way to the back driver's side door. One looked like it had just flipped over and over again.

I nearly slowed to a stop, eyes wide, forgetting to breathe. All I could say as I passed this awful scene was, "Oh my God..."

We drove past the scene and I resumed driving as usual, but my sister and I couldn't help but look back and wonder what devastation we had passed. After dinner, we were stranded in town due to the traffic, so we went to one of our favorite art stores to pass some time. This is where I learned instead of just 4 cars, the total was 11. After a while, we left for home.

I got onto YPP to help a crewmate forage and run fruits. I just couldn't make myself focus. The image of the twisted cars had burned itself deep into my mind. No matter how hard I tried to shake my head and close my eyes, it wouldn't go away. But it got scarier than just the image.

Though we didn't witness the cars crashing when we were out, I had a vision of it. I saw the cars spiraling, spinning, flipping, twisting. I could hear the metal crashing, crunching, collapsing. I could see the people panicking and wounded. For a moment, I could smell the smoke.

When I snapped out of this vision, I was shuddering violently and blinking back tears. I had to hold my breath for a few moments to make it cease. Chalk up another psychic experience for me. I hate them so, as I always seem to envision horrid things.

Seeing that awful image puts things into perspective in a way that is undescribable. You can see a massive disaster on television, in photos, or in the newspapers all you want, and while you feel sympathetic and hurt for these people... it's a totally different experience when the sight is laid out right before your very eyes. When you can see it... hear it... touch it... the reality of the situation becomes so much more apparent.

It's also like when you watch those crime shows on television. You watch the people who lost their loved ones to murderers and arsonists, and while you feel bad for these people, there's always that thought in your mind: "That'll never happen to me or my family."

...But believe me, it can. Oh God, how it can.

There is such a difference between photographs/television and reality. And tonight, I learned just how strong a difference it really is.

A Retelling of Escapades

The past few nights have had me busier than normal. Mom's weaned herself off her medications enough to be awake and conscious. As such, she went on a 3-hour cleaning spree and made up grocery lists. Mm. Anyway.

So the other night, my little sister needed to return an item to a store on the other side of town. (It was hilarious when she opened the package and found absolutely NOTHING in it. After her initial "awww," we laughed our heads off. We joke about it now.) We made the 25-minute trip and found the package she was looking for (and made sure it actually had stuff in it this time!), we wound up cruising the store and left with all kinds of things. I left with two dog figurines that resemble two of my dogs. My sister, however, came out with a gnome, Buddha head, and a wind chime.

My sister is very artistic and into Buddha statues, incense burners, and the like. Her room is always fun to be in. While I'm artistic, too, I don't have a collection of weird and random things in my room. Such is life.

We took our new treasures home, then my sister asked if we could go to Wal-Mart. (Ten minutes away with all kinds of creatures called "people" there. I hate this place.)

Mom says, "Oh! Since you're going..." (Mind you I didn't say yes to my sister...) She comes back with this list of stuff and her debit card. So now I'm forced to go. So we go.

After we run Mom's errands, we finally decide to hit our errands. We roamed the store for a good two hours. I always seem to have such a good time with my little sister when it's just her and me. If anyone was to ask me who my best friend was, I'd definitely say her. We left with allllll kinds of new treasures... and for the first time, I actually spent more than her! By $9, but you know.

Amongst my new treasures was a new hat (yes, I'm actually a hat person), three plants, a collection of new T-shirts, and some picture frames. I have two cactus and a bamboo plant. I named them, too. (Don't give me that look. People name things inanimate objects all the time! At least I named a living thing.)

The tall cactus is named Luigi. He was hiding in the back of the plants, and he's tall and awkward. He's in a stone pot that looks really old, surrounded by matching dirt and pebbles. He's my favorite.

The short cactus is named Toad. He was hiding on the bottom of the shelves and is very short and stout. At first I wasn't gonna get him, but my sister told me he wouldn't get a home, so I had to. (I'm a sucker.) He's in a large, square pot with lots of dirt and a fish statue.

My bamboo plant is named... Boo. Honestly? I couldn't think of a better name, and I remembered that Boo kept in with the Mario naming motif. He's in a ceramic pot beside my alarm clock where it's nice and shady. He and Luigi don't get along. (Gotta love the humor.)

Sometime soon, I'll be dying my hair a new shade of red, and we'll see how much fun that'll be.

Hmm. I guess that's really all I can think to babble on about right now. Maybe I'll ramble more later... or maybe I'll find a way to post pictures of my treasures and my plants. Do expect to hear more about Luigi, Toad, and Boo in the coming weeks. I'm a little strange like that, you know.

The Usually-Daily Poetic Prose.

There'll be a more developed post later... maybe.

A Fairytale Myth

The story begins a long time ago

Once upon a never

Of a girl with a love that'd grow

On and on, forever.

But everytime she dared to try

She dropped her fragile heart.

With crystal drops in softened eye

The saddened rain began to start.

No one wanted to see the bloom

From her garden of pink flowers

So instead she sat in bluish gloom

Drowning her plants with showers.

Looking down, she saw no pride

In the flowers down below

So instead they drowned in the tide

And never would they grow.

And it was the land of dreams

Was swallowed up by darkened clouds

There is no springtime, so it seems

For a garden that winter shrouds.

And so she put her heart in a case

Then locked it far away.

There was never a smile on her face

And the clouds were there to stay.

The little heart left all alone

Held the love that could grow forever.

But its light would not be shown

And the fairytale was always never.

Nothing Spectacular.

I think I'm just rambling a little this time. It's late and I'm tired... I tend to babble for a while, then fall asleep. It's entertaining... at least to the people who actually enjoy my ridiculous rambling.

Neh.

So I bought this super bright red dye for my hair. It's probably firetruck red. I'm planning to keep a natural-looking red on the top layer, then take the bottom layer and make it this hellacious red color. Why? No reason. Just sorta feel like it... maybe. I gotta do the test first to see if it's a color I won't mind having in my hair for two months.

Reminds me of my senior year of high school when I dyed the bottom of my hair this vibrant purplish pink. Oh God, Mom hated that and threatened to kill me. I loved the color though. Yeah, I'm prone to doing weird things. When Mom and my sister went in to get their ears pierced two more times, I bit the bullet and got a second set of piercings myself. (Of course, they got tattoos, and I'm far too cowardly to let people put a needle to my body. Dani has a limit, oh my!)

Someone remind me that I have to get up at 8:30-ish tomorrow morning so I can call my doctor and see about rescheduling the stupid appointment I'm supposed to go to in the morning. His office called yesterday--er, earlier today--and asked me to call back for rescheduling. Too bad I slept through the initial call and didn't get the voicemail until sometime after closing. Whoops.

I learned today that gravity hates me. Observe:

Making a hard right turn + large cup of soda in the cup holder - someone holding said cup in the holder = soda all over the floorboard and the bottom of my pants.

I sorta already knew gravity and I weren't the best of friends because I fall down stairs for no reason other than to fall and twist an ankle, but the cup holder episode tonight just ensures that I remember gravity no liketh me. (I hate you too, gravity. So much.)

And now that I think I've successfully made every story unrelated to the one before it... I oughta go lay down. My head's got a slight pounding in the front of my skull, which is not being aided by the loud music I'm currently playing. Glutton for punishment am I? Quite possibly.

Until I get a more sensible state of mind... or until I get bored and randomly inspired...

G'night.

Fickle Feelings. (Depressed Rant Ensues.)

I've ridden a roller coaster tonight. I went up and down, then up higher and down harder. And then I saw the sign that read "Bridge Out." Hitting the ground is painful when you ride a roller coaster, you know.

I went to the store late tonight, around a quarter to one. It's become something I like to do, I guess, as Newnan is a nothing-to-do town. Bought myself a new webcam and a spiffy new headset for my Skype program. After that, I decided to go driving with nowhere in particular in mind to go. I wound up in Fayetteville before a freak late-night thunderstorm forced me to turn around and go home.

There's something exciting in driving at three in the morning in the middle of a thunderstorm, but maybe that's just me and my weird sense of life. I woulda said sense of humor but everyone's already well aware of just how crazy that part of me is.

So I got home finally and installed the new webcam. I was sooo pleased with how amazing the quality turned out. It was tons better than my old one.

So I had a few of my curious friends check it out. Didn't think that I'd wind up crashing one of my friend's mood and ultimately crashing my own. So I made my friend sad and I'm sitting here holding onto a pillow wondering how the hell I can be so cruel... even when I'm not quite sure what I did wrong to begin with.

You know what I hate sometimes? My feelings. More, my inability to control said feelings. I can go from happy to "I hate the world" in no-time flat, for no reason other than I stubbed my toe (or something more ridiculous). I can go from "I hate the world" to "I hate myself for hating the world" even faster, and crash into the ground before I know what hit me. It's miserable.

Mom tells me I oughta go to a psychotherapist and have them check me out for both bipolar disorder or autism. Great fun, the concept of going back to someone who could potentially diagnose me wrong and put me on the wrong things. But maybe I'm being a little silly to avoid this. Lately I'm finding my emotions and/or inability to cope interfering with my life and friends.

It's bad enough that I have ADHD, which makes me squirm when I need to be still and causes me to shift subjects mid-sentence because something else catches my attention. I also seem a little bit nervous, and the sound of a ticking clock is enough to drive me to tears. I forget to sleep sometimes and have become nocturnal, thriving on the night.

Sometimes I look at myself and feel like I'm sort of nasty trainwreck destined to hit the brick wall and fall to bits. Sometimes I look at myself and wonder how I've managed to make it to twenty. Sometimes I look at myself and see the failure that I suffer socially.

I can't interact the way everyone else does. The concept seems to elude me. Someone could tell me, "you're not doing this right," and could explain every single detail as to how it's not right, but I can't reach out and grasp the concept. It's so frustrating sometimes that I want to find the lowest trench under the largest rock and call it my home.

I'm gonna wrap it up with this. This is how I describe myself...

A Little Bird

Somewhere way up in the sky

Lost high up in the air

Is a little bird that cannot fly

The way the others dare.

The little bird is all alone

When the others begin to play.

The little bird sits with thoughts unknown

Of truths it will not say.

It doesn't chirp the same old song

That the others learned to sing

Instead its lyrics all are wrong...

It's such a tragic thing.

No one wants a little bird

Who can't seem to get along.

No one has the kindest word

For the one who is so wrong.

And yet the bird, it longs to fly

The way the others do

And yet the bird, it cannot try

To see the hidden cues.

In the middle of the dark of night

When the other birds perch asleep,

The little bird cries out its plight

With a song of pain so deep

That every melodious chirp rings

With such horrid, tearful sound...

And every single lyric brings

Saddened tears upon the ground.

Somewhere out there is a little bird

That sits upon a perch alone.

And it's without a single spoken word

That the pain remains unknown.

Because I'm Feeling It...

I was thinking about an encounter from my high school days with a "friend" of mine who was prone to insult me and throw my ego into the ground. I recalled the day I called her out, ripped her to shreds, and left ego in tatters. It inspired this.

NOTE: This poem is HIGHLY dark, morbid, and violent. It is the symbolic description of my hatred towards this girl and her nasty disposition and nothing more. If you are easily triggered, do not read.

Fall from Disgrace

Beaten the loyal with sticks and rocks

Taken your men and broken their bones.

Never saw the faces on the clocks

That finally threw you off your throne.

And now you've fallen from disgrace

Into the misery of which you earned

Look at the pain on your pampered face

And feel the anguish that you have churned.

Your loyal subjects look upon you with hate

Their hearts born the brunt of your reign

And now it is the sweet hand of fate

Giving them a chance to right their pain.

Brace yourself, fallen master!

Prepare for the punishment of your crimes.

Get ready for the unseen disaster

That has been due for quite some time.

Battered body lays upon the ground

Shields itself with trembling hands...

The sky echoes with the cracking sounds

Blood is strewn upon the lands.

Disgrace is colored blue, black, and red.

Blue is for the sorrow you caused them all.

Black is for the souls that now are dead.

Red is for the bloody tears that had to fall.

They drag you to the top of a lonely hill

So you can see all that you depraved.

Then when the air has finally grown still,

They bury you in your kingly grave.

Slightly Poetic.

It's just a poem post... something I tend to do a lot.

A Moment

There is a moment lost in time

That makes a heart sing so loud...

But there are those who make it a crime,

And the song is forced into dream clouds.

There is an instant lost in space

Where someone makes your life feel whole;

When the smile crosses upon her face,

Sending warm shivers through your soul.

There is a second lost in forever

That you hesitate to make it known

How you long to be together

And how your feelings have grown...

There is a scene lost in a dream

In which you hold her tight.

In that little moment everything seems

So perfect; so destined; so right.

No longer let the moments pass,

For now she runs to you.

Now just make the moments last,

And live in love that's true.

A Musical First Post.

Well. First post on a new blog. Should I introduce myself? Hell, why not...

I'm Dani, though on YPP I'm Lucafira ("Luca"). ...Yes, my YPP life is a big factor of things; don't be surprised if I devote whole posts to it. I'm 20 years old, female, and in college. I live with my mom, stepdad, and 18-year-old sister... oh, yeah. And seven pets. But this is all for a post in another day.

No, tonight I'm rambling on a silly little topic. I was listening to a song--still am, actually--that moved me. I was thinking about someone when I listened to this song... moved myself to smiling tears.

It's amazing how something as simple as a song can provoke someone to feel a certain way. It's awesome how words set to a rhythm can make a person want to cry their eyes out in one melody, while the very next can make the same person want to grab a gun and fight for a cause. I've always been strongly affected by music. I draw to it a lot of times, using the song's instrumentals to inspire my pencil strokes. My writing would be absolutely nothing without the emotion a song can provoke me to feel.

I use music for therapeutic means. This is what I've decided, anyway. I listen to loud heavy metal in which lyrics of hate and anger are screamed to aggressive music. I think I do this because I'm such a timid person in reality. All it takes to silence me in reality is a screaming voice. The voice doesn't even have to be aimed at me. I'll just clam up and run and hide, like the proverbial dog with its tail between its legs. I also have a hard time standing up to defend myself. I suffer what I like to call "Staircase Syndrome," which is basically the equivalent of saying I lay down and let people walk all over me. I guess I use music to portray the feelings I normally can't.

That said, if someone can see what I'm listening to at any given time... the song can say a hell of a lot about how I'm feeling.

I also, sometimes, use music when I'm inducing trances on myself. Yeah, I do self-hypnotism. It helps me with my inability to sleep... anyway. Sometimes I induce trances just to escape. Like a nap, if you will. Anyway. I can use music to determine the sort of images I'll see in said trance. If I listen to something morbid, then I'll see morbid images. If I listen to something all sunshine and rainbows... you get the idea.

Music's a big part of my life. I guess that's what I'm really trying to say.

It's late... My thoughts aren't as focused as I thought they were. G'night...

...If I remember to sleep, that is.