warped tour.

so my experience with warped tour was an interesting one this year. I didn't care for the majority of the bands who performed, but it didn't matter to me. To me, the fun you experience is mostly defined by you and your outlook on whatever the situation may be. I wanted to go to see Innerpartysystem mostly, because they are absolutely amazing as a band, especially live..I'll get back to that later, though. Anyway, so Long Island sucks, as is. I'm saying this as someone who has lived here for basically my entire life minus two years spent in Florida..it's a very..I guess you could say, 'what you make it' kinda place. The music scene's basically - well, actually, IS - D-E-A-D. Probably why most bands don't play here often; even the ones who originate from here. People are obscenely obnoxious, especially when driving..and really, if you live here you're either dirt poor or filthy rich; there's almost no middle ground. But today made me forget that, somewhat.
First, when I walk in - and I kinda knew it was going to occur during the day; I mean, c'mon..have you not SEEN the lineup this year? - a young girl, I'll give her 13, in matching zebra bra and belt is standing there on the side of the road; like a greeting sign. Okay..seriously? I mean, not to be a stooper, but how did that girl's parents even allow her to walk out of the house like that? And even so..how does she not realize that her attire automatically SCREAMS whorebag? I guess one could say it's kind of a given when attending events such as these..my friend, who I was with, made a comment: 'you ever wonder where all the scene kids go? like..it's almost as if they're in hiding until these things pop up'. I had to admit..it got me thinking.
Then, my lovely, ice cold water bottle that I had spent a nice 2$ on, had to be dumped. and there was A LOT of water in there.....made me a little sad. ): But I got to refill it later on a couple of times.
I met some cool people. Cole Kriescher from More Like The Movies, Zack Pennington from Hark The Herald, and..this guy who, I can't remember his name..but! I do know that August 31st his band, or the band he supports, Lights Resolve, is playing a show at the Bowery. so I will most definitely stop by, haha. Of course, also, I met the great Innerpartysystem - just to make a quick side note, but..is it only me who realizes how reclusive Patrick is in person, then on stage, he's like..a party animal/total opposite? It's quite amusing.. - once again, both to scold Kris and support them. I wasn't kidding when I said that by the next day, I'd have killer shoulders..I was holding up their sign all day, haha. They did, in fact, turn out quite jacked and tan..
As previously stated, I didn't care for the majority of the bands there who did perform. However, in addition to meeting some great ones, I was introduced to some, as well. Two bands I highly recommend, because they were so kick-ass live, are The AKA's & ThereforeIAm.
At the end of the day, after seeing Innerpartysystem and their wonderful set - who could not admire the passion they put into their music? - getting a kiss on the cheek from Kris Barman - that's right, bitch - and having issues with getting home, I realized the forty bucks I spent was well worth it. Cause really, in the end, your day is what you make it.

shit happens.

I have ADD -
I'm a complex personality
I think way too much
Sometimes I risk myself into believing luck
I see it blue, want it read
Yet I have so much shit myself bottled into my head
Sometimes one life's not enough
To get what you want done
Sometimes one day's too short
To remember or forget what you were thinking of
Sometimes it takes years to establish long-lost hope
Sometimes it takes more than a blanket to treat you from the cold
Shit happens, but why do we let it interfere?
Shit happens, but there's so much more worth it to adhere.

desperation meets confusion.

I want to speak to you, I do. It's like the pop-up box on a computer...yes, no. yes, no. I know that if I do, not only will it be awkward as fuck, but also I'll wind up hurting myself more..what's up with that? especially when I go to talk to you, anyway. why do I allow myself to be obliterated? do I have THAT much long-lost hope? how much more pathetic can it seem..

seriously.

'take it all in, and breathe it out slow.'

do you feel lonely? cause I see something in your eyes; I swear I do; and it doesn't look too good..yeah, it doesn't look too good. you've got the melancholy - honey, please talk to me - I'm achin' to see a smile light up your face..
yeah, you feel you're all you got, but honey, no you're not.
yeah, you feel you're all you got, but honey, how could you have forgot?
I'm your personality - I create your visuality.
I control what you do..honey, I'm just the same as you.
I know you're polite - you'll lie through your teeth till ya die.
if that's what it takes to keep everyone else in the state you wish to be -
why aren't you in the state you wish to be?
you look yourself in the mirror, but you don't see you.
I don't see you, I don't see you.
distort and twist and turn till you're sore -
keep torturing your mind; keep poisoning your mind -
convince yourself you deserve your hate -
honey, stop playing mind games.
cause yeah, you feel you're all you got, but honey, no you're not.
yeah, you feel you're all you got, but honey, how could you have forgot?
I see your pain, I reflect it, too.
cause everything that crosses you burns through me, too.
yeah, everything that crosses you burns into me, too.
I control what you do..honey, I'm just the same as you.
I'm just the same as you.

so happy birthday to me, I guess.

seriously, when I get asked, 'do you feel any older?' or 'do you feel any different?' on my birthdays, I'm just like.. -.-
what is expected of me to be said? 'oh; yes, OF COURSE! it's as if this huge wave of relief has ridden over me because I am now officially one year older than I previously was.'
...I don't understand. Anyway..
today was ok - wasn't mind-blowing; wasn't too shitty..which is good enough for me, haha. birthdays are interesting, and all, but..I don't know; holidays in general just don't agree too well with me. I always seem to feel kinda empty, like something's missing or I forgot something. it's horrible.
today, like many days, it was my father..I wish he were there. I just felt like, despite the fact that the majority of my immediate and close family were there, a huge chunk was missing..
I hope some miracle or wonder finds it's way over here and I get to see him again..I feel like I both need it and deserve it.
but on a different, less depressing note..ok; maybe not too light-hearted..
boys. GET OVER YOURSELVES, please. you put on this façade of fearlessness, authority, and macho-ness. come ON! seriously..and I know girls are just as bad; trust me, it's a given. but at least girls are somewhat - albeit a little emotional and nonsensical - open of their feelings and what's going through their heads. guys just deny shit, pretend it never happened, and go about their daily lives acting as if their not affected by anything, whatsoever..if you can honestly say that you've never had your heart broken, never cried, never backed down, never felt defenseless, then fuck off - you're only fooling yourself, schmucko.
so now that I've gone COMPLETELY OFF - TOPIC..yeah, I'm done ranting.
there's only so much you can type at 2 am with shitty vision yawning every five seconds, so..adios; für jetzt.

Current listen:

• 'Heart of fire' - Innerpartysystem

-Really all of their songs..they're so powerful; not just the lyrics, but the music and videos, too..
'heart of fire' totally speaks to me, though.
Anyway..

I seriously think I'm going insane. Either that, or fucking..I don't know. I just don't give a shit anymore. Not necessarily even because I don't want to..I just don't. Perhaps part of my apathy is due to my current surrounding and wish to just be gone from here.. I can't stand it. I have the same, uniform schedule every day...get up, go to school, come home, go to work and/or stay home/go out somewhere. My life, currently, doesn't involve anything exciting and I can't stand it. So take a stand, right? I can't even do that..I have to wait at least two months; to get school over with, to eventually quit my job..
None of my friends are doing anything remotely exciting, either. For the most part, they're all staying here..fuck knows why. I can't even relate with them; nor attempt to relate with them, because..they don't understand. I don't care, but the ways in which they don't care are on a totally different level.
I understand that this is the beginning of my life, and that I still have so much more to do with it..to see, experience, that such. But right now I feel as if I'm at this roadblock, stuck in cement, with no means of getting away from it..it seriously kills me from the inside. It depresses me.
The thought of becoming what the majority of my family is like..what so many people I know of are like..
I can't. And hopefully I won't.

finally..

I'm sick of sitting, I'm sick of waiting
I'm sick of letting my life go to waste.
living dreams that exist in every head but my own,
carrying out thoughts that are never acknowledged nor heard,
being homeless in a place that is supposed to be my home.
THE WORLD IS NOT MY OYSTER.
rant, scream, sicken me - it's all you ever do; it's all you'll ever do.
can you really keep me chained down forever? is that what you really think?
can you really keep me traumatized, frightened, listless for what's to come ahead?
cause trust me - the only thing I currently feel is numbed by your blasphemy.
the only apathy I feel is for you.
and I'm done...so completely, thoroughly, and utterly done.
thanks for shit.

let yourself fly

So it's been decided that I will be attending FIT in the fall, instead of SVA, which..saddens me greatly in many ways because SVA was my top school and all..but since FIT starts all applicants with their associates' degree, I've realized I could always go there for two years and transfer; worse comes to worse. Granted, both schools are located in Manhattan - they are actually ten blocks away from each other - they have a great atmosphere, their foundation programs are generally the same, and I will no doubt about it have a great time, because a) I won't be on Long Island; b) I'll be in arguably one of the greatest cities on the planet; and c) I'll be able to concentrate on more of what I love doing, which is photography, and not all of that other mumbo-jumbo bullshit that they teach in school that you just KNOW you'll never use in your every day life..
Of course, my mother is having her little incestuous breakdowns..as if I'm not stressed enough as is, haha. It's the whole, "are you SURE you want to do this?" and the, "oh, TRUST ME..I know you generally don't care, Killian, but..when you have a chain-smoking, r&b loving roomate, you will" - basically stupid nonsensical shit that I just wish would end. I think, for the most part, she worries because I'm basically the first person in my immediate family to attend college..who knows.
Anyway..hopefully this will all gradually become better. We'll see..

so bamboozle was pretty great..

..not gonna lie. Most of the bands I were familiar with, but I was introduced to some new ones, too..I met some cool people, as well. Unfortunately, none of them live by me..no new news. :/
Can't wait for Warped! I'm gonna try and go 7/16-7/18..
7/16 - Camden, NJ
7/17 - Uniondale, NY
7/18 - Oceanport, NJ
There goes another one of my paychecks! :D Totally worth it, though..

introduction.

So you want to know all about me, who
I am.
What chance meeting of
brush and canvas painted
the face
you see? What made
me despise the girl
in the mirror
enough to transform her,
turn her into a stranger,
only not.
so you want to hear
the whole story. why
I swerved
off the high road,
hard left to nowhere,
recklessly
indifferent to those
coughing my dust,
picked up speed
no limits, no top end,
just a high velocity rush
to madness.


[excerpt from 'Crank,]

run away - yeah yeah yeahs.

I was feeling sad
Can't help looking back
Highways flew by
Run, run, run away
No sense of time
Want you to stay
Want keep you inside

Run, run, run away
Lost, lost, lost my mind
Want you to stay
Want you to be my prize

Run, run, run away
Lost, lost, lost my mind
Want you to stay
Want you to be my prize

I was feeling sad
Can't help looking back
Highways flew by
Run, run, run away
No sense of time
Want you to stay
Want keep you inside

All along, not so strong without these open arms.
Hold on tight.
All along, not that strong without these open arms.
Lie beside.
All along, not so strong without these open arms.
Ride beside.

Run, run, run away
Lost, lost, lost my mind
Want you to stay
Want you to be my prize

Run, run, run away
Lost, lost, lost my mind
Want you to stay
Want you to be my prize.

puh.

I need a break..don't we all?

two more weeks.

and I'm gonna have to come up with an answer..it's so mixed, really, cause I mean..I have my family telling me to go to FIT; it's cheaper, you'll take out less in loans, it's still in Manhattan, blah, blah blah blah blah blah. Whatever. Personally; and I'm really not just saying this because FIT is a state school, or anything..either way, the difference between whether or not it's a state or private school is irrelevant; that school has given me a bad first impression. First off, their 'campus tour' involved a slideshow in a cramped room that didn't ONCE mention anything about their photography program, whatsoever. All they did was go on and on about their fashion and fashion merchandising programs, which...great, we all know you're a fashion school, but c'mon..you still have other majors, no matter how small in comparison. Also, their required 'portfolio' consisted of 30 photographs, then a 'challenge' thing. Most schools ask for 10, 15, at MOST 20 images.
Now, SVA, on the other hand..their campus tour actually involved going through ALL of their buildings and discussing everything about ALL of their programs..also, their BFA photography program is one of their biggest programs. They are a pricey school, mostly because they are private, but it's really no matter if they're private or a state college; it's quality, not quantity, am I right?
My heart's in SVA..and I'm not going to go against that. I can't..no matter what I have to do to get there..


Also, mann..I really want an egg roll right about now.. (8

Monday, April 13th, NYC...if you're interested.

I'm going to try and attend, unfortunately..because it's a monday, I'm not so sure.
Stephen Frailey, if unknown to you, is the Chair of BFA Photography at the School of Visual Arts, where I'm planning to attend in the fall. He is also the creator of Dear Dave Magazine, which, if you're interested, the link is below. He's hosting a session with photographers Oliva Chanarin and Adam Broomberg, holding conversations about contemporary photography among artists, editors, and curators. It's open to pretty much anyone, it's free, and if you're interested in learning more or just hearing what they have to say about photography today, then I believe you'll find it interesting. Also, if I may add, SVA hosts numerous lectures and sessions, as well as having three galleries, and all of those things are open to the public..if you go to their website, I'm sure you can find more information on it.

http://www.deardavemagazine.com
http://www.sva.edu

'Howl, by Alan Ginsberg

'I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by
madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at
dawn looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient
heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the
machinery of night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high
sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of
cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities
contemplating jazz,
who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and
saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tene-
ment roofs illuminated,
who passed through universities with radiant cool
eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy
among the scholars of war,
who were expelled from the academies for crazy &
publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,
who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burn-
ing their money in wastebaskets and listening
to the Terror through the wall,
who got busted in their pubic beards returning through
Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,
who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in
Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night
with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, al-
cohol and cock and endless balls,
incomparable blind; streets of shuddering cloud and
lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of
Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the mo-
tionless world of Time between,
Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery
dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops,
storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon
blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree
vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brook-
lyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,
who chained themselves to subways for the endless
ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine
until the noise of wheels and children brought
them down shuddering mouth-wracked and
battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance
in the drear light of Zoo,
who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's
floated out and sat through the stale beer after
noon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack
of doom on the hydrogen jukebox,
who talked continuously seventy hours from park to
pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brook-
lyn Bridge, lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping
down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills
off Empire State out of the moon, yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts
and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks
and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars,
whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days
and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the
Synagogue cast on the pavement,
who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a
trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic
City Hall, suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grind-
ings and migraines of China under junk-with-
drawal in Newark's bleak furnished room,
who wandered around and around at midnight in the
railroad yard wondering where to go, and went,
leaving no broken hearts, who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing
through snow toward lonesome farms in grand-
father night, who studied Plotinus Poe St. John of the Cross telep-
athy and bop kabbalah because the cosmos in-
stinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas,
who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking vis-
ionary indian angels who were visionary indian
angels, who thought they were only mad when Baltimore
gleamed in supernatural ecstasy, who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Okla-
homa on the impulse of winter midnight street
light smalltown rain, who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston
seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the
brilliant Spaniard to converse about America
and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship
to Africa, who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving
behind nothing but the shadow of dungarees
and the lava and ash of poetry scattered in fire
place Chicago, who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the
F.B.I. in beards and shorts with big pacifist
eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incom-
prehensible leaflets,
who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting
the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism,
who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union
Square weeping and undressing while the sirens
of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed
down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also
wailed, who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked
and trembling before the machinery of other
skeletons, who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight
in policecars for committing no crime but their
own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication,
who howled on their knees in the subway and were
dragged off the roof waving genitals and manu-
scripts, who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly
motorcyclists, and screamed with joy,
who blew and were blown by those human seraphim,
the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean
love, who balled in the morning in the evenings in rose
gardens and the grass of public parks and
cemeteries scattering their semen freely to
whomever come who may,
who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up
with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath
when the blond & naked angel came to pierce
them with a sword, who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate
the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar
the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb
and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but
sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden
threads of the craftsman's loom,
who copulated ecstatic and insatiate with a bottle of
beer a sweetheart a package of cigarettes a can-
dle and fell off the bed, and continued along
the floor and down the hall and ended fainting
on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and
come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness,
who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling
in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning
but prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sun
rise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked
in the lake, who went out whoring through Colorado in myriad
stolen night-cars, N.C., secret hero of these
poems, cocksman and Adonis of Denver-joy
to the memory of his innumerable lays of girls
in empty lots & diner backyards, moviehouses'
rickety rows, on mountaintops in caves or with
gaunt waitresses in familiar roadside lonely pet-
ticoat upliftings & especially secret gas-station
solipsisms of johns, & hometown alleys too,
who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in
dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and
picked themselves up out of basements hung
over with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third
Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemploy-
ment offices, who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on
the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the
East River to open to a room full of steamheat
and opium, who created great suicidal dramas on the apartment
cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime
blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall
be crowned with laurel in oblivion,
who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested
the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of
Bowery, who wept at the romance of the streets with their
pushcarts full of onions and bad music,
who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the
bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in
their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned
with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded
by orange crates of theology, who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty
incantations which in the yellow morning were
stanzas of gibberish, who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht
& tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom, who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg,
who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot
for Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks
fell on their heads every day for the next decade,
who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccess-
fully, gave up and were forced to open antique
stores where they thought they were growing
old and cried, who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits
on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse
& the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments
of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the
fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinis-
ter intelligent editors, or were run down by the
drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality,
who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually hap-
pened and walked away unknown and forgotten
into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alley
ways & firetrucks, not even one free beer,
who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of
the subway window, jumped in the filthy Pas-
saic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street,
danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed
phonograph records of nostalgic European
1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and
threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans
in their ears and the blast of colossal steam
whistles,
who barreled down the highways of the past journeying
to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude
watch or Birmingham jazz incarnation,
who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out
if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had
a vision to find out Eternity,
who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who
came back to Denver & waited in vain, who
watched over Denver & brooded & loned in
Denver and finally went away to find out the
Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes,
who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying
for each other's salvation and light and breasts,
until the soul illuminated its hair for a second,
who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for
impossible criminals with golden heads and the
charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet
blues to Alcatraz,
who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky
Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys
or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or
Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the
daisychain or grave,
who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hyp
notism & were left with their insanity & their
hands & a hung jury
who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturers on Dadaism
and subsequently presented themselves on the
granite steps of the madhouse with shaven heads
and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding in-
stantaneous lobotomy,
and who were given instead the concrete void of insulin
Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psycho-
therapy occupational therapy pingpong &
amnesia,
who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic
pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia,
returning years later truly bald except for a wig of
blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible mad
man doom of the wards of the madtowns of the
East,
Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid
halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rock-
ing and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench
dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a night-
mare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the
moon,
with mother finally ******, and the last fantastic book
flung out of the tenement window, and the last
door closed at 4. A.M. and the last telephone
slammed at the wall in reply and the last fur-
nished room emptied down to the last piece of
mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted
on a wire hanger in the closet, and even that
imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of
hallucination
ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and
now you're really in the total animal soup of
time
and who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed
with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use
of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrat-
ing plane,
who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space
through images juxtaposed, and trapped the
archangel of the soul between 2 visual images
and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun
and dash of consciousness together jumping
with sensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna
Deus
to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human
prose and stand before you speechless and intel-
ligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet con-
fessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm
of thought in his naked and endless head,
the madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown,
yet putting down here what might be left to say
in time come after death,
and rose reincarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in
the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the
suffering of America's naked mind for love into
an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani saxophone
cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio
with the absolute heart of the poem of life butchered
out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand
years.,




..fucking amazing poem; one of the many influencial during the Beat Movement. I'm currently learning a little bit about the Beat Movement in my Composition Class, and I find it fascinating..Definitely, if you liked this poem, check out Ginsberg's other works, as well as Jack Kerouac, Neal Cassady, and William Burroughs to name a few other influencial Beats, as well.

ridiculous.

What is the point of arguing? or, rather, let me rephrase: what is the point of arguing an opinion that lacks any sort of sense or potential purpose? I've grown up around it, I live through it..I'm just SO COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY DONE with it. Yelling, screaming, arguing, antagonizing..it's all the same, frustrating bullshit to me. My parents; prime examples to this topic, mind you; make me not want to have children or further more get married, because of this. It's enough stress being the child that has to put up with the ridiculous banter and turmoil..I would never want to turn out that way. I just can't wait until the day when I'm able to walk out the door..Legally. Eighteen years of the same shit over and over and over..I'm surprised I still have whatever sanity that I seem to have left. Really. And yeah, perhaps my upbringing isn't too much different than how the real world is..but, as crazy as it sounds, I'm much more able to deal with the shit that fate and reality bring(s) me rather than who live(s) under the same roof as I do. Cause it's fucking depressing; it really is..sure, they're not alcoholics, they're not drug abusers, but it's still abuse. Not necessarily physically; but rather emotionally and mentally..which, in my opinion, is far more worse than any physical pain or suffering one can endure, because it eats you alive from the inside out..slowly, gradually, never going away. Hopefully, however, what with college and all that jazz coming around the corner, I can somehow pause this blasphemy..or, even better, make it cease.

vote for my entry? :D

So I've just added an entry to Brickfish's "I wish..." contest, which has a deadline in June. I encourage anyone who has the time to look into their contests; most of them are pretty easy and offer great prizes. I'm trying to get something out of this contest, and I hope that you will help, if you are able to. (: You don't have to go to the website, either, which is cool..you could actually just vote by clicking below:

I Wish...
Brickfish
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The perk with voting is that you can also re-vote every seven or eight hours, I believe..something around then. So any votes that are recieved, if I do not thank you or cannot find a way to thank you because I do not know you and/or such, thanks! :D