cereal @ 3.

Satisfactory greets only a select group among our species’ existence; satisfactory in which it is appropriately achieved, mind you. All humans strive for excellence, but the common conception of exertion can be imprudently misconstrued among the fogginess of the principle success. To put it bluntly, humans should never cease to raise the bar. Fulfillment should not be reached at a point in your life where efforts drop and comfort takes over. Going hand in hand with Richard Bach’s proclamation: "Here is a test to find whether your mission on earth is finished: if you're alive, it isn't," in order to fully execute mankind’s potential as an entirety, quitting isn’t an option, settling is not an option.

In the midst of universal human sayings, one that surfaces frequently is the idea that living is the best thing, our greatest gift from whatever higher source bestows upon us. If this is the case, why not exercise your right to go beyond the standard requirement of affirmative morality and stretch the elastic boundaries in which pure justification subsists. The human race should only halt to pursue when its plug is pulled; all other routes consist of indolence or mediocrity.

Sleep is not overcoming me as I wish it to. Thus I'm eating cereal and listening to The Smiths. I have a twelve hour day tomorrow at the lovely MacArthur, One-Act rehearsal 4-6:30 and orchestra rehearsal 6:20-8:30. That means I have negative time to collect myself. I'm not giving a sobb story (I always spell it like that because of the song "Sobb Story" by Leaders of the New School) trust me.

I'd fancy splurging a week in Seattle or Portland; dwell in the drizzly streets or assemble myself in the verdant evergreen forests. Texas is too much ‘in your face’ and not enough ‘go your own way.'

Perhaps I'm finally heavy-eyed.
Good night.
Have a marvelous slumber and a productive day.

depeche mode - enjoy the silence

i looked through a window at night and saw my reflection.

directly where my eyes were, a car's headlights were on outside

and i looked like raiden.

kings of convenience - i'd rather dance with you

faces - ooh la la

the innocence mission - bright as yellow

q lazzarus - goodbye horses

rush - the trees

thompson twins - if you were here

the whitest boy alive - high on the heels

everything but the girl - corcovado

nina simone - my baby just cares for me

black moth super rainbow - i think it is beautiful that you are 256 colors too

the rolling stones - under my thumb

cheese people - i'll be with you

queen - i want to break free

heartsrevolution - switchblade

the dø - on my shoulders

apocalypse.

1. the fire hydrants were completely bursting out water down san pedro, as if they were possessed.

2. a fire truck, ambulance, and medical helicopter landed at school for no reason.

3. my car accelerated by itself and wouldn't brake. quite scary.

4. there was a magnificent blue light in the sky tonight.

5. IT'S THE APOCALYPSE.

i can't think of a title.

"He was there alone with himself, collected, tranquil, adoring, comparing the serenity of his heart with the serenity of the skies, moved in the darkness by the visible splendors of the constellations, and the invisible splendor of God, opening his soul to the thoughts which fall from the Unknown. In such moments, offering up his heart at the hour when the flowers of night inhale their perfume, lighted like a lamp in the center of the starry night, expanding his soul in ecstasy in the midst of the universal radiance of creation, he could not himself perhaps have told what was passing in his own mind; he felt something depart from him, and something descend upon him, mysterious interchanges of the depths of the soul with the depths of the universe."

---
I'm not one to quote people.

However, I cannot for the life of me broach this sensation in any fashion superior than Victor Hugo's prose. The above passage is easily my favorite paragraph in any book I've read. It's not necessarily my number one piece of fiction, though this particular segment in Les Misérables radiates through every part of the physical/mental/spiritual/whateverthehellyouwannacallit make up within my body. Seriously. I feel as if everything I desire in my existence thus far can be traced between a few lines of pure nirvana: the above material.

*It's quite handy to have a pad of paper and a writing utensil when reading a piece of literature because finding brief passages with such an immense bearing is similar to filtering out little nuggets of gold during frontier times. Why frontier times? Because in elementary school, we got to go to Shakertown where they taught us to shave with old fashioned razors (not literally of course) and find GOLD and knead bread and use the cottin gin and so on so forth.

ANYWAY going to what I was originally stating, Les Mis wasn't my copy to keep and I wrote this extract on a wadded up piece of paper. I can honestly say (and I'm being honest) that honestly I think about this paragraph, honestly, everyday of my honest life. But I had no idea where the hell I put that trifling little note with this scribbled mess on it.

Today I found it. In the trenches of my bottomless desk drawer.

Everyday I'm realizing even more just how large my heart is. For certain things, of course.

I have a rash on my elbow pit. I keep scratching it. I NEED A FIX! Just kidding. But really, it's as if someone is shooting up heroine; it's super agitated.

Okay. Goodnight. It's three oh three in the morn.

time.

Time to compose the story of my life.

I'm going to list every physical attribute that is suffering at the moment, whether minuscule or impending:
My shoulder is bleeding.
My left elbow pit has had a sand papery itch, thus it's starting to scab.
A mild upset stomach, nothing catatonic.
My nose is enduring the pungent smell of this bowl of cat food sitting on my floor; reasons as to why this is here, I know not.
I think that's all.

In all honesty, I really haven't had the umph to write anything extravagent lately. I start quite a few of these things, but always end up clicking out of the window. I can't seem to muster up even time devotion or elevated vocabulary to form a sufficiently captivating entry.

If someone were to ask me what my main emotion consumption is at the time being, I would say weary steadiness. Ha, make sense? Is that even an emotion?

Remember kids, focusing on petty things can be rewarding; it allows yourself to limit how much dosage of the "big picture" you inject into your never wavering brain.

It's interesting to compare and contrast dreams with fellow human beings. Some don't remember their dreams, others have reoccuring dreams, some dreams relate to what the person thinks about before they fall asleep, others have dreams tripped out on LSD.
Those are my dreams. I swear, the things that happen in my figments manipulate them to be so unrealistically realistic. But I suppose, a vast majority of the world feels this way.

Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear oh dear oh dear. What am I to do? It's so peculiar. When you're a fashioned risk taker, you often find yourself unable to make the jump to the thing that remains the safest. It's your biggest challenge. I can't ignore the signs within myself; I simply can't. You can't force yourself to feel a certain way. And that's what (scares isn't the right word, it's more like) baffles me. I'm disappointed in myself.

I like my cheddar sharp, thank-you-very-much. That's the story.

This is the part where my fairy godmother tells me what to do.

Röyksopp is definitely worth your time. One of the best electronic artists out there, in my humble opinion, especially In Space and She's So. So enlighten yourself and listen to them.

Aside from that.
I'm absolutely terrified.

I got accepted into Southwestern University and I have my theatre auditions for SMU and Southwestern this weekend, and it's not the auditions I'm worried about, it's something else. Something I'm not quite aware of. Knowing that my ranking went up, I wish I had applied to some schools I had not before because I wasn't top ten at the time, but now it's too late. DAMN IT.

On a side note, I feel very disconnected with school at the moment and everything it brings; all of the crap I'm involved in, I mean. And I feel like a fool. I'm not sad or anything, I just feel like I haven't been managing my time the way I should be. I wish I could re-do this senior year and start college bullshit earlier. AT LEAST I'M CONSISTENT WITH WHAT I WORRY ABOUT: MY FUTURE! yeah...

It's this time when thoughts on possibilities start crashing to me, knocking me down whether or not to pull the plug. That sentence made no sense.

You know, I could have that shrugging of the shoulders, live life by the day, no planning sort of attitude--persona, and I envy those that obtain such a carefree hold on events in their life, I truly do, because I cannot, from the bottom of my heart, allow myself to do that. When I do, I feel like a fool! A big fat fool. Disgusting. COMMAS COMMAS COMMAS, did you realize how many commas I used? I like phrases.

FUCKITY FUCKIN FUCKSHIT FUCK

The notion seems so appetizing right now but I could never bring myself to go that far. Well, I could.

This is the part where my fairy godmother tells me what to do.

8303955887: my Borders rewards barcode.

i wish that could happen to me, but if you rescue me, i'll never have to be alone again.
oh someday i know someone will look into my eyes and say, "hello, you're my very special kitten," so if you rescue me, i'll never have to be alone again.

I'm probably going to fall asleep typing this. I'm super tired, mega tired, ULTRA tired. I spent all night vigorously (spelling error, I'm sure) cleaning and practicing my cello and eating a chocolate chip muffin over the course of three point seven hours, according to a playlist on itunes I concocted in regards to this evening.

The dumbest thing happened today.

I went to court to take care of some automobile mishaps; to get pardoned, more specifically, I suppose. But anyway, I get there and the man told me they have a policy on short skirts. My DRESS was not that short. He kindly told me I have to return on a later date and dress appropriately. I felt like a douche the rest of the day. Yay.

Too tired. Can't do it. This was pointless.

i wish.

i wish i could find the perfect analogy to suffice what i cannot come to terms with. but it seems that, too, fails.

actually, you know what? that's ridiculous. there's no reason to be upset. happyhappyhappyhappyhappyhappyhappyhappyhappy

faux.

jaded, blasé, satiated, fagged, cloyed, lukewarm, mundane, predictable, prosiac, hackneyed, lackluster, nothing.


my selective heart is in this too much to be let down.