The Glory that Is James Marsters

I had a dream about James Marsters last night, and it was good and it stayed with me vividly, so I've decided to share it with you.
I was driving my car in Eagle Mountain when I suddenly made a wrong turn and ended up in the parking lot of a warehouse, go figure. I exited my car or rather magically was inside the warehouse and I saw that I was in a toy store that looked like a warehouse, but in reality it was the set of a commercial shoot. There were children running rampant everywhere and playing with the toys and for some reason or another, James was there for the commercial shoot. He was wearing a tight red T and jeans and he had his blond hair again and it was a little messy. He looked hot in a word. As to why he looked so hot while shooting a toy commercial, is a mystery to me. So I began watching the shooting of the commercial when who do I see show up at the warehouse, none other than Natalie and Karmen. To which I was furious because they said that they had come to see James do the commercial but they had neglected to call me and tell me to come. It was just a lucky chance that I had stumbled upon it. I am still carrying the slight anger of dream Natalie and Karmen not telling me. I believe that it is a reflection of when they went to see the Harry Potter actors and I couldn't go because I was in stupid Hawaii.
So, the commercial continued to be shot and we were watching along with a few other James fans and then they had a short break in the shooting. James came over to see us because Natalie was waving her hands like a crazy person and saying, "Hi James!" Which got him to come over and then he remembered us from the convention which we thought was really cool. and he offered to autograph some things for us. But I had not brought anything to sign because I didn't know I was going to be there, whereas Natalie had like five pictures for him to sign and he looked really good in all of them. I was kinda mad at her for having so many things and me having none. So, I went and grabbed a toy from the shoot for James to sign, but once he signed it, it crumbled. It was really sad, but luckily he had extra photos of himself which he signed for me. So I got his autograph in the end.
I don't really remember the rest of the dream, but to sum up, James Marsters is the man of my dreams, he is really hot, and I hold resentment towards Natalie for reasons unknown.

Another insert from Becky's novel in progress

She felt as well as saw the eyes of all the people in the ballroom shift to focus on her as she stepped out in royal elegance onto the precipice of the long, grand staircase. Putting on the face of authority with the hint of a warm smile, she faced the crowd of people. It seemed, for a moment, that time stopped, and every person was looking at her at the exact same moment she was looking at them. The magic of that night and the beauty of everyone in the crowd froze for just a second in her mind; every turning head stopped, no breath was taken, every swish of gown and rustle of people ceased and she was able to take it all in and create a snapshot in her mind. Lords, ladies, nobles, and high society had all gathered here tonight, in an array of colors that littered the room. Dresses of silken red, shinning yellow, orange, blue, white, and especially silver and gold bedecked the women of the ballroom along with glimmering jewels that hung around the necks of the few talented people. The necklaces and jewels being the prize of tonight’s events, they were worn with pride at this annual ball. Every person in that room looked magnificent in wonderful hues and she, in contrast, wore a long silk black gown that clung to her bosom and flared out just past the knee. She wore elbow high black gloves and her long black hair had been curled and pinned around her head with a raven’s feather placed into the curls as a representation of her house. Around her neck she wore large onyx jewels that dazzled in the candlelight of the chandelier. She stood for what seemed like an eternity looking out on the crowd, but what in reality was just a moment and as quickly as she felt time had stopped, it started up again and the swell of voices and clapping echoed throughout the hall, bouncing off the high domed ceiling. She was princess Anna’lia Celestia Durthien of Imendria and she stood in wonder at all the people who had gathered in her ballroom that night. She knew that as princess it was expected of her to be brave, political, and subjective, but all she felt at this moment as the crowd of beautifully dressed people below cheered for her, was the magic and wonder of the evening. She gave a quick smile of appreciation for the warm welcome and took one step down the staircase, her black skirts swishing around her ankles at the movement, as her mother walked out to top of the stairs.
Her mother, in an elegant and beautiful deep purple dress that poofed out into a large skirt and cut to hang off the shoulder, doused in embroidered beads and designs, and trimmed with downy dove feathers around the neckline as a symbol of her original house before she had married Anna’lia’s father.

Here is my rendition of my costume to be one of the Angel's Avengers. I think my thighs look smashing! 

Gambling is BAD!

This is a note to all that Gambling is bad. No good can come from it unless you are very lucky, which I, apparently, am not. You have to know when to walk away from the table and cut your losses. I don't understand this either aparently and I just keep on playing until the money is all gone. I am a stupid, stupid person and you should not be like me. Gambling is BAD! Hold that thought in your hearts forever.
On a side note, I had lots of fun in Wendover and thank you Anthon and Marie for taking me. Even though I lost, I felt really cool to be old enough to gamble and not once get carded. Yeah for me and my oldness.

Life Sucks Dontcha Know, Dontcha Know?

So, I've been thinking for the past three months, hey, my life sucks and I hate it with the fiery passion of a thousand suns. No, sorry, a thousand is not nearly enough, infact no amount of suns could compare to how I feel, the only good these suns would be is if I was somehow launched into one and it could burn up my hatred and sorrow along with everything else that is me. Most of you might not get this, then again I really have no idea considering my audience is mostly Becky's friends so I'm like in the dark there with that, but the point is that no one sees it. I walk around feeling like this every second of every single day, but I hide it, from the my family, friends, and as odd as it may sound even from myself. It's kinda like everyone is in the dark, and somehow they cannot see these thousand or more suns that I'm just wanting so badly to hurl myself into, I feel like these suns should be visible by all, I mean they're huge fiery balls of gas and there's lots of them, why can't people see them? I have come to realize that first of all, people not only do not understand, but have no idea how to react and are therefore either faking that they can't see, or just too afraid to do anything about it, second of all I might just be too good at pretending that I don't feel like screaming and breaking down on the floor crying every moment. I almost this lack of seeing idiotic because there is no possible way that I could feel fine, no matter how good I am at deceiving others. I'm just so sick of everything, I'm sick of pretending, I'm sick of feeling like this, I'm sick of waking up, of going to sleep, and it just feels like it will never end, like these feelings will never go away and i'm just so tired. This morning it just seemed like the hardest thing in the world to go on pretending, and it has been the same all day, I'm really beginning to freak people out, which is why I put on the act in the first place, so people wouldn't act how they are acting right now, afraid and not knowing what in the world to say. I just don't know what do to, and no one can help cuz they don't understand and they don't know what to say, so I end alone, alone in this endless battle with myself and my emotions. It just feels like it will never end, never go away, never stop hurting, and I'm getting to that point where I need to say something or I'm going to explode from holding it all in. That poem Becky wrote, yeah, I don't think anyone got it, so if you will go to the rainbow poem and highlight the last line which is in black so that you can't see, it's not the happy poem that everyone saw. I just want it to stop, can't anyone make it stop, can't anything make me happy, truly happy, for that one blissful moment so that this sadness can at last start to ebb even a little? I find the answer as a resounding no, so I trudge on alone, as before, and as it seems it shall always be, until I get launched into those pretty suns. Pretty, pretty suns.

I'll get you St. Valentine, and Then you'll be sorry!

I am here, today, to lead the people against a tyrant who has long plagued us, down trodding the less fortunate and making them feel like scum on the bottom of his shoe as those around us are showered with gifts of the pink and red variety. This man has left millions of women in tears as others have made gain off of him and flaunted their fortune to the tearful women. Do we want to live in a society that, for an entire day, worships a man and a color above that of Buffy and neutrals? No! So I say to you, fellow oppressionists, if we join together, and stand up against, and say, "No," then we may finally be free of St. Valentine. Now who is with me? Who will speak with me?

21 At Last

You know, there is always all this hype about turning 21 because you are legally alowed to do so much more, i.e. gamble, drink, serve on a jury, ect... But having reached my 21st year, I find it to be as mundane as the last 20 years. Of course I am only 1 day into my 21st year, but still. As a mormon girl I cannot do all those things that others who are immoral and want to slowly kill thier bodies can. I don't drink and I shouldn't gamble (Not to say I won't). And so the flavor of 21 is slowly taken from me. I believe that my next milestone in age isn't until 40, which is another lifetime of mine added on to the one I already have away. And 40 only tells you that you are old. I would have to say that 16 was the only momentous age for me. I could drive and date and do other stuff that I can't recall now because it was so long ago.
In conclusion, I had a good birthday, 21 isn't the best age, and I make good cheese!

Rainbow

There is a rainbow in front of me.
I made the rainbow bright for all to see.
There is a color for every question asked of me.
How are you? Green.
How is school? Blue.
How was your day? Yellow.
I see the colors, I reach and find nothing.
There is a rainbow in front of me.
The rainbow is all they see.

A little something I wrote up yesterday for your veiwing pleasures

He shuffled down the hallway, his long robes brushing the floor as his feet moved in quick momentum. Darkness had come a couple hours ago and he was late in checking the front door. Everyday just after nightfall and again before sunrise, it was his duty to check the steps of the front gate. Winter was dawning early this year and cold winds were coming in from the north, his lateness may cost some poor child their life. The hope swept through him as it did every night as he made his trek to the front gate. He wrapped his arms around himself for warmth and braced himself for the cold as he finally reached the inner door. He pushed the large oak doors outward and felt the cold air blast through his woolen robes, his arms providing little warms. He inwardly cursed himself again for being late and not being able to grab a jacket before he had to rush out into the night air. Quickening his pace in a mock run he scampered across the gravel path winding out from the ominous building growing smaller behind him as he ran away from it. His breath came out in puffs of smoke before his face as he rushed to the outer gate. Breathing harder, but feeling warmer from his run he reached the large wall that surrounded the complex and laid his hand upon the door. Mumbling quick words, a metallic clank echoed within the inner workings of the thick door. He now opened the door with ease, but just wide enough for him to peak out. He immediately gazed down upon the steps in front of the door and his hope faded as quickly as it had come. A little to the side of the door and two steps down, wrapped in nothing more than thin rags, laid a child of no more than a year old. He hastened to gather up the child and took a quick glance around to make sure there were no other children on the steps. There were not usually more than one, if there was one at all. He had sometimes been early or too prompt in his routine of checking the steps, and had sometimes seen a woman dart behind a building as he opened the door. Mothers would usually glance at the steps from afar before placing their babe to make sure no others were about and the appearance of one child already on the steps indicated that someone could be near by. A child hadn’t appeared on the steps in a long while though, it had almost been a year, making him lax in his routine, but every night he hoped that he would find an empty step when he looked out. Pulling himself from his inward thoughts he gathered the excess in the skirt of his robes and awkwardly wrapped them around the child and moved back inside the door and shut it. Once inside the safety of the gate he placed his hand on the door once more and spoke words that were caught away in the wind before they could be heard by any. Once again the metallic click sounded within the door and he turned gazing back on the fortress that he had called home for the majority of his life. The building stood tall and wide against the landscape and was highlighted by the moons rays gazing down upon it. The structure was elegant, yet not too extravagant, yet he tried to absorb its beauty every time he looked upon it. In the center above the main door stood the symbol by which he had lived his life by for so long. After his brief glance at the building in front of him, he looked down at the babe in his arms. The child unconsciously grabbed hold of his finger with his little hand. He gaped at what he saw on the back of the child’s hand, it was the same symbol that he had just seen upon the building. Identical in every detail, the symbol was etched upon the child’s hand, but looked as if it was a part of the child’s skin. A blast of wind hit him suddenly, he came out of his slight stupor at seeing the symbol on the child and remembered that it was cold and the child could have been outside for over an hour. His urgency renewed, he rushed once again back to the building from which he had come before. A new hope bloomed in his heart as he thought of the child in his arms and who it would someday become.

Pet Peeves, Even The Word Peeve Annoys Me

Becky has been posting up the wazoo, and what do I have? Two depressing poems, not enough I decided. Okay, so I am going to let out some anger on certain points today, what some would call pet peeves. This list could possibly go on forever, so I will keep it to some of the main ones, ones I've been thinking about lately.

People who give Christmas decorations to you for Christmas. Like you need more wooden santa claus', nutcrackers, and mismatchy ornaments to lay around your house. People who do not know how to use circles, yield does not mean stop people. Someone saying that they will do something, or be somewhere, or call you, or some other such thing, and then not doing that thing, and even worse when they don't acknowledge that they did not do that thing. Clothes on animals, it's ridiculus. Skinny girls that whine about being fat, when they aren't. When someone makes fun of themselves just so you will compliment them. The hiccups. My brother, doesn't matter which one, they've all bothered me at one point or another in my life. The word doughnut, there doesn't seem to be just one certain way for a doughnut place to spell it, make up your minds doughnut people! People who just whine and whine about Bush being president, shut up please! He's the president, there is nothing you can do about it so stop making us want to chop off our ears because you wont be quiet about it! 7th Heaven, that show should just go away, be gone you annoying Camdons.

Okay, I could go on forever, but you get the idea, so please comment. Tell me your pet peeves, or make fun of mine, whatever pleases you. But now you all know not to whine about being fat, while whining about the president and hiccupping while writing the many variations of the word doughnut while stopped at a yield sign, in my presence. Love you all, have fun naming your pet peeves.

Me with the love of my life. 

This is Jen, she's my newest. I got part of the design off of FFX2. She's my new Favorite. 

Okay, I'm a Natalie copycat. Here's a pic I drew. I'm not sure whether I am naming the clothes or the girl. I'll leave that up to you. But I enjoy drawing all the same and I would love some feedback on technique. The body doesn't look right and I can't figure out what it is that I am doing wrong or how to fix it. I seek your inteligence. 

Honey, Sweety, Pumpkin, Cupcake, could you pass me the sugar?

Terms of endearment. You got them, I want to hear them. I find it odd how people will make up nicknames that are usually food products and use this name as an endearing term to their significant other. Why do we make up new names? Why are they usually food products? Do you know the muffin man?
Being a recipient of many "honeys" from my mother, I dispise the name mostly because it is not unique, everyone and their dog can be "honey" to my mother. Then we are all just lemmings walking around with the same name. Darn you lemmings, you addicting game you!
I want to know the strangest and most common terms of endearment that you have used, are using, or have been used on you.
Personally, my favorite is "peanut butter girl," that would be me.

Isn't it about...

It pulls like the wind against rocks
It stretches out farther than a rubber band
The longer it gets, the more blurry it becomes
It hurts, it heals, it kills
The more thought about it is the more it is felt
It is not visible, not tangable, not audible
It rolls continuously, but it's ends don't meet

This is what comes of too much time at the roller rink. 

Meloncholy

Sometimes the world is moving so fast that you can feel the whirr of time passing you by. Days become weeks and weeks, months, and months years. Usually time feels like this to me, a whirr. But recently it has been more of a snail pace. Where I can feel every second, every minute, hour and day going by, and it seems to take an eternity. It seems that the more that you look at a clock and watch time, the slower it goes.
There are those moments that you want to last forever, you want every second to last a long time because then you are more likely to remember it forever. But the more you want to remember every second, the more it seems to seep through your fingers like sand in a seive and no matter how much you grasp at the sand, it will seep through the cracks.
But then there are the other moments that no matter how hard you want to forget and not see the repeating cycle of images in your mind, you can't be rid of them. They keep appearing and reappearing no matter what you do to try and block them. Why is that? Why is it so difficult to remember what you want and forget what you do not wish to remember.
It puts an entirely different skew on time, because time can really only be gauged by the mind. Granted our bodies feel the passing of time, but it is our mind that retains the daily recollection of time. So time is really only what we want it to be and the slowing or quickening of time is no more than that which our mind tells us it is. Yet we are still unable to manipulate it.
You can't escape from time, it is always there, counting down and commanding the lives of almost everyone. Have to be on time to school, work, there is a certain time when you will be hungry, tired. Time really is what directs our lives. Without it, we would all be lost. I for one cannot go an entire class period without glancing at the clock at least 17 times. Just to countdown the minutes until I am able to leave.
What if we were back in days of yore when time was gauged by the sun? How cool would that be because you could be late to work and blame it cloudy weather or something. How cool would that be?
Is time precious? Is it of value? Do we appreciate the time that we have for each moment? I know that I wish all the time for my time in school to fly by so that I will be able to be finished and done with it. Does this mean that by wishing for time to fly that I am not appreciating the moments that I have here in college? College ideally only occurs once and people who are old talk about it like it was thier glory days, their chance to be free. Does this mean I am abusing my time to be free? Once out of college will my sense of freedom be stripped from me? Because if you ask me, I feel restrained and obligated by classes and work and finances while in college and I have this unrealistic picture of the real world being a skip through the daisies.
Does it ever get easy? Will I ever be able to rest? Or do I work so hard for so long towards a goal only to continue the cycle by working just as hard towards a new goal. Will a final goal ever be achieved in this life? Or is it a continuous struggle? I guess that only time can tell.

Me me me. 

Brr... It's cold in here

It wasn't until after I had gotten up, showered dressed and left the apartment that I realized that there is mounds of snow on the ground. I wasn't prepared for the cold and the sight of the snow considering that when I went to bed last night there was not a trace of snow on the dead yet surprisingly green grass. I of course gesticulated my surprise with "what the gna..mna.sn.."
I knew that it was going to snow eventually and that the happiness of a snowless season would soon draw to an end, but it still surprises me when the inevitable appears. I believe that this is what they call denial.
In addition, the snow creates for unhappy living conditions. First of all, all the drivers on the road suddenly have a stroke because they cannot for the life of them remember how to drive in the snow. Although it has probably been less than a year since the last time that they drove in the snow, that knowledge seems to have left their brains. Leaving only two types of drivers: The over cautious driver that goes 25mph in a 50mph zone because they are so scared and they think they will die or the universe will implode if they go faster and the overzealous driver who doesn't remember that snow is slippery and tires will spin. These two drivers cause traffic and accidents or traffic accidents. No good can come from this and it forces me to allow more driving time to get places. I get mad, I get mad, I get mad, everybody gets mad.
The snow is also noncompatible with my footgear choices. I don't have the proper foot attire for the winter season. In highschool the only thing that I wore with every outfit was tennis shoes. I have since discovered that this is not always appropriate or matching and have moved into the world of open toed shoes. But I have yet to cross the boundary of boots. Leaving me with either missmatched shoes or frozen toes. A troublesome dilema. But I've decided that somehow I will perservere and make it through the snow. But I am bitter about it.
I know that there are wonderful aspects to snow: snowball fights, snow angels, snow forts, whitewashes. But I just haven't yet found the time to enjoy the snow I hope that very soon I will. Oh yeah and sledding, you can't forget a good sledding.

You people hardly ever do anything on this blog!

Okay, so I checked this thing forever ago and it was the same as it is right now. That means you peoples aren't really doing much with the blog, in short, yur boring! And meems, i dont see one single thing from you, so get with the program woman. K so here's a depressing poem i just wrote for english, i love writing depressing poems to turn into a teacher, they usually like the perky crap better so thus the funness.

Think Of Me As I Was

You will never know me,

For I live in a shell.

It does not allow you to see,

My merciless hell.

Inside I will stay,

Never coming out for air.

Never to see the light of day,

Because I cannot care.

You have never been here,

To this place of utter sadness.

You will never have to fear,

This oncoming madness.

My soul cries out,

In the wake of this confusion.

I cannot help but doubt,

That I can escape seclusion.

The pain will never end,

The fear will never leave.

If you could only lend,

A moment of reprieve.

So think of me as I was,

For I left long ago.

That person is gone because,

I fight an unseen foe.

Alone forever will I dwell,

Asleep and never waking.

In this unending hell,

A hell of my own making.