speedgriffon

read this shiznit. this is why we are friends. this is exactly why we connect on such a high mental level. call me crazy; but then you’d have to call her crazy too.

reprezin’ the ficcs.

orangejuiceandnovocaine:

New blog. Not so new situation.
I went through my old notebooks. I forget how much I love writing until I read things I haven’t finished. I really love the story developing in my mind right now, but every time I sit down to actually write it I can’t put it into words. I can play it out in my mind, picture by picture, but words can’t even convey what I’m seeing. I think because of my emotions, or lack of.

Going through one of my notebooks, my favorite one to be exact, I stumbled upon a line I had written in a poem. “Let me know if I’m just falling to get more aquainted with the ground.” I don’t know why that really hit me. I guess because of wha’s going on. I hate myself sometimes because of te way I have to obsess over things. I feel clingy. I feel needy. So I back away probably making the other person feel cold. I don’t know. Sometimes you’re not the only one who’s hurting.

You. I want to let you know something. I’m scared of you. I’m scared of what can happen. I’m scared of how fast you entered my life and how fast you tapped into my emotions. I’m scared of you because I see him inside of you. Going through my old notebooks I realized how much he hurt me. And I realized how much I was hurting myself for letting him hurt me. Sometimes when I talk to you I feel like I’m being thrown back into a place where I was naiive to my surroundings. Back to a time when a boy so sheltered met a girl who was his equal. A boy who couldn’t share his feelings and a girl who gave him everything she could. A boy who destroyed everything I thought I knew and tore my heart into pieces. I’ve never felt so hurt in my life. I’ve never wanted to die as much as I did during that “recovery”. He was my drug and my cure  a long with pills and microsized cuts. It hurts to talk about it sometimes, knowing how much pain I endured. And it scares me to death that you remind me of him. But I what I learned from the first time is to keep my heart until it’s secure to share. It scares me to death, but I still want to try. My head is telling me to walk away, but my heart is urging to push forward.

All I need is a sign. Let me know where I stand in your eyes. Let me see who you are please. Because underneath that negativity I see something. I don’t know what, but I see it. Maybe from the first time we actually talked.

Oh, and before I get carried away [like I didn’t already -face palm-] I miss you. And I want to slap myself every time I think that, or say it because I really hate missing people. Just that bittersweet feeling never is satisfying and leaves this sick after taste in your mouth.

Anyways, back to writing. I think I’m going to attempt to start the beginning of that story tonight. The faces are so vivid in my mind. The settings, the feelings. They’re just pulsating through my veins, but I need to get it out. I know I’ll feel a hundred times better if I do.

We’ve found our place between an awkward space
The place where we’ve made comfort but can’t wait to get out

Cold nights. Warm days. I miss the rain.

She was a metaphor. Always changing into something completely different from what she was. In the winter she wore summer dresses and in the summer she wore her hooded parka, not caring about the looks she got from passerbys.  

(I wrote this blog, then deleted what I wrote. )

I guess you could say I’m still working on breaking down my tough exterior that has been up since my grandfather’s death 5 years ago. I’m not really sure if anybody sees it or feels it when they are talking to me, but I feel it in the walls of my heart everyday. I’m pretty convinced my innocence was cut short 5 years ago when I was forced to grow up so fast and finaly start to take care of myself.

I’m having a really wierd life-changing moment again. Please excuse me while I update over the next month or so.

The Outragous Wishes and Goals of Evie’s Life:

- Go to Paris and share a ciggarete with a local. “Evaline? Noisette?”
- Go to Maine and eat 4 dozen raw oysters
- Have  Seth MacFarlane serenade me with a Family Guy song.
- See Chicago on broadway
- Have Perez Hilton syle my hair
- Get my hands on an old school Atari
- Own a 50’s style pin-ball machine
- Write 100 books
- Have one of my books be turned into a movie
- Walk the red carpet at the premere of one of my book-turned-into-movies.
- Be a commentary on ‘I Love the 2000-2010’
- Provide a voice for a South Park character
- Be editor-in-chief of my school yearbook
- Not catch Mary’s boquet at her wedding ;]
- Meet Madonna
- Write a song and have it become a viral hit
- Make a parody of Soldja Boy 10 years from now XD
- Finish “Creeps Me Out” fanfic (yes I know)
- Have a personal HTML for this blog
- Stand on the edge of a boardwalk in Key West
- Witness a vocanic eruption in Hawaii
- Go to a teacher’s wedding
- Be part of a wedding party
- Get married in a country house backyard
- Have a model-esc photoshoot with a professional photographer
- Sing “Man I Feel Like A Woman” with my group of guy friends
- Have a bonfire in my backyard
- Build my own giant bookcase
- Invent a pencil that spell checks for you
- Own a stormtrooper costume used on set. XD
- Dye my hair bright pink with neon yellow streaks
- Make sure my child(ren) are exactly opposite of me. -sigh-

Ok. It’s not done

“Never-mind… Beverly, I’m in great trouble,”

Over the last few weeks I’ve stumbled upon a great revelation. Through premonitions and strong urges in the pit of my stomach, I’ve discovered something about the future. I know who I’m going to be in love with. It just so happens I’ve also been subconciously in love with this person ever since I met him. It took 2 years for me to realize this, but I can say it with full confidence he’ll be the one, whether he accepts it or not. I’ll have loves between now and whenever the future is, but I’m glad I’ve come to this realisation.

“I’m in love”

The clicking of his loafers slowed as we approached the walkway, yet I continued, ignoring my father’s drawn out footsteps. The rain suddenly became trapped in my eyelashes and I grew confused, turning back to find the umbrella my father was holding above us hitting the ground with a deafening clank. His hand left mine as I still stumbled forward and yet backward at the same time. His knees gave and the hand that was once in my palm clutched to his chest, his brow furrowing in confused pain. My arms thrust out, the baby doll trench coat opened and the dress I was wearing immediately became doused with Mother Nature’s tears. My father stumbled forward into them, my knees bending to fall with him. Cars next to us honked and pedestrians turned on their urgent feet to gaze in amazement at a daughter’s desperate attempt in catching her father. We collapsed on the pavement in a heap of rain- my legs crushing the umbrella that was once above my head. My father’s head landed on my clavicle, and his husky breath slowed, yet grew in density. His eyes glanced up at me and his hand moved from his heart to my face, rubbing his thumb hopelessly under my eye and over my cheek. He smiled and his eyes closed before he flattened on the asp fault. And with the rain came a daughter’s tears.

Tomorrow is the exam for Fahrenheit 451 and I couldn’t be more prepared for an exam in my life. Never have I gone into something and been %100 committed to it, at least with school. (and other than Yearbook).

My jump-drive is still missing and it is devastating to me. I am in a depression over the fact that little 4GB is missing from my life, and I can not write my novel due to its location on little 4GB.

Today I watched the late Bob Ross on one of the high cable channels and felt all my problems disappear. Suddenly I felt zen and at one with myself. It amazes me that an artist can make you feel that way. He paints with that whisper on his lips that entrances me so deeply. Creepy.

Today, I leave you with this;

Step One: Find somebody who you have either been with for a very long time, somebody you love, or somebody you have gotten so drunk they don’t care that you are about to perform sex with them.         

Step Two: Prepare a place for the two of you to perform the act. The best place is a bed, to keep he/she/it comfortable, but other examples include; kitchen counters, showers, dinner tables, couches, bathroom floor, airplane bathrooms, janitor closets, closet, a bench, on a bus, a library (but be quiet), back seat of a car, on a beach, in a forest, in a tunnel of a park, in the pool or Jacuzzi, in a tree house, in the snow, in a cabin, in a bunk bed, clothing racks in Ross, tour bus kitchen, drivers seat of a VW bug, on the bar of a club, on stage, in a chair, in a dressing room, a bathroom stall, elevator, stairwell, hallway of hotel, in a museum, by the mausoleum, at a strip club, at the zoo (near the flamingos), at Walgreens.         

Step Three: Lead your choice in mating towards your place of choice. In these following steps, we will use the bed as the example. Once in your domain, make your guest as comfortable as possible and try cute pick-up lines (unless they are frisky and jump to making out) to get them in the mood.         

Step Four: When they start showing signs of approval, you can start to move your hands in places where they were once unacceptable. For guys, you can place your hands on girl’s thighs and upper waists and for girls; you can place your hands on guy’s abdomens and upper thighs.         

Step Five: Kissing will ensue and it is up to one of you to bring tongue into the situation. Once tongue is in the picture, you can start to lower the two of you to the bed and move hands to the exact places where you want them to be. This is taking it slow, but it usually is best that way. Continue to make-out for as long as you want or until clothes begin to disappear.           

Step Six: Take charge if you want to and begin to shed the others clothes. If it is either is a virgin, then it is best if you help each other and make the other comfortable while doing so. In short, take off your clothes.         

Step Seven: Penetration.

Reading takes a lot out of me. But it takes a lot out of me in the good way. My sophomore English class just finished reading Fahrenheit 451 today and it will probably leave the biggest impact on me this school year. The quotes, the phrases, the philosophy and vocabulary that Ray Bradbury used in this novel astonished me and truly connected to me on a personal level.

“Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you’re there. It doesn’t matter what you do, he said, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that’s like you after you take your hands away.”

This quote really had me thinking in class. I am thankful that Mrs. Goddard did not call on me to share with the class somebody who has touched me in this way because I don’t think I would be able to stop blabbing. There isn’t enough hairs in my head to add up to how many people leave something behind when they interact with me. Every-time I have a conversation with somebody, I’m secretly recording it into my consciousness, deciphering every little syllable and defining you. If you have ever said hello to me; you are there.The dictionary of Evaline Rona Garland.

“Grandfather’s been dead for all these years, but if you lifted my skull, by God, in the convolutions of my brain you’d find the big ridges of his thumbprint. He touched me.”

This is exactly why I strive to be an author. I strive to have this kind of effect on people. If a man that has been writing since WWII can inspire me to contemplate my philosophy on life, then why can’t I do the same to somebody in the world? “Writing is thesupreme achievement”, according to Alice Flaherty. And even Roland Barthes explains in his book, Writing Degree Zero that, “A creative writer is one for whom writing is a problem.”

Hypergraphia is the disease of writing. I can now officially say that I suffer from an incurable illness. Juvenal said that “Many suffer from the incurable disease of writing, and it becomes chronic in their sick minds.” I believe that this has “EVIE” written (HA) all over it.

Another reason why I read and write so much is the plethora of useless (and useful, if I’m playing Trivial Pursuit) information that I learn. Did you know that the first condom was invented before Christ… and in China?! Dolphins masturbate! And a humpback whale’s penis is over 10 ft. long! The giant African snail, if in the wild, can reproduce itself 16 quadrillion times in five years. Transformer frogs gave birth through their mouth before they recently became extinct. You have the lowest chance of becoming addicted to LSD, Ecstasy and even Marijuana, compared to other drugs like nicotine, crack, meth and even alcohol.

I’m crazy today with information. Back to reading fanfic, for me. :]

My cat is telepathic. I was thinking about him, and asked myself in my mind; “I wonder if my cat knows that I’m talking to him. If he does, he’d run up here,” And he did. He ran up the stairs and stared at me, big black eyes and tail poofy. He meowed and suddenly I felt very scared for both of our mental healths.

Peteyforlife

Think about the time you were having the most amazing and vivid dream and found yourself waking from it. Suddenly, you try your damndest to prevent sleep from leaving you. The dreams that were once tangible start to become just another figment of your imagination. Trapped between what you thought was real and what is actually real, you reach out without lifting your hand, and find that there is nothing to grab. And then, thoughts of what you are trying to do distract you, and you fight past them, trying desperately to remind yourself what you were dreaming about. For a moment it returns, but almost as quickly as it does, it disappears again, leaving you frustrated and half-awake. Or are you half-asleep? Not even your subconscious can tell you. The fight is over and you open your eyes, fully aware of your disappointment. The dream is gone and never again will you feel the way you just felt. That is, until the next time you find yourself trapped between reality and “reality”  

So it takes just about 13 hours to watch Star Wars Episodes 1-6 in one day. That’s pretty much all I could do today. I was so bored with life that I allowed the single greatest story to penetrate my big screen TV for 13 hours. And suddenly, I feel smarter. :]

may the force be with you.