Argh. Someone please humor me and help me get my mind off life and all its excruciating little details... Leave me something fun, stupid, pretty, inspiring, uplifting, hot, whatever. Just throw out a distraction. I'm game. Anything to get me from dwelling on my cousin, laying there in her white washed hospital bed, tubes and wires protruding from her mouth like some lethargic, machined Cthulhu, obstructing the sight of her dark, half-lidded eyes and partly gaping mouth, gasping from behind her mask at the the proffered oxygen...

Samantha, or Sam, is only twenty-one, and she's on her death bed, and it's breaking my heart.

Sam is dying, dying so young of an extremely rare, terminal disease, which is ironically enough, the same disease that rocked her family and killed her mother about five years ago. Dianne, her mom, may she rest in peace, will have lived a longer life than her, having died at the age of forty, give or take some years, but overall, she was given the chance to actually and fully live.

Ever since I can remember, Sam has had a shitty life from the get go, which is a reason my mother didn't like me hanging out with her and her siblings when we were kids. They came from a household troubled by all sorts of domestic problems, stemming mainly from their low social status and ethnicity (Native American, something our families share, but fortunately I wasn't victim to the poverty that usually plagues a large number of Natives), but that hardly stopped by aunt from bringing them by more often than not, and from all of us being childhood friends.

She and her siblings lives were hard, unfair, unfortunate, less than what they deserved, and she herself lived fast, seemingly for a purpose, because she'll die young. Luckily, despite the many pitfalls and mistakes she has made, there was a silver lining, as she will be survived by her two toddler sons, Alejandro and J.D. Strangely, and if not more ironically, Alejandro, her eldest son, is the spitting image of her older brother, Alex, in which he is named. He has the same face, the same wheat blond hair, and the same name, save for the Latin twist. He possesses such an uncanny likeness, it's utterly laughable, so much that my auntie made a joke earlier in the evening that if she has something to confess, now would be the time to do it, and when she did, it riled a genuine laugh from all of us.

You know... I'm really hoping Alex and his wife will adopt the boys. God I hope he will. You can't have one without the other, and with their family dropping off as they are, you can't remove them from their blood relatives. Sure, Alex, is only a few years older than her, but if he doesn't, there's no one else that can, will, that fits the requirements for their adoption.

Alex isn't here yet, but he's flying in from Alaska tomorrow. The doctors say Sam won't last through the night, but we have no doubt she will. She'll wait for her last sibling to arrive, I know she will. They share the same father, much like their two younger sisters, and they're all tied together by their deceased mom. Their fathers are deadbeats, so they only have each other.

The only silver of comfort I get from these dour circumstances is that their two younger sisters, Happy Star and Zintkala, are both pregnant, and somewhat hilariously, only a week apart.*

When I was born, my father's grandfather died the same day. My father and his family told me this was a passing of souls. One life entered the world and one left it. They also say I am much like my great grandfather, as well as like his son, my grandfather, Papa Mac.

So a life for a life. Seems like a fair trade off, and concerning Sam, this passing will be two birds for one soul. Seems exceptionally fair to me, no?

Oh, but still... it's not. It's not fair at all. There's so much to say, so much I never said, so much I didn't do for her, nothing I can do for her, it all seems so pointless to even discuss it at this critical point, especially here, and all I can manage to say is something juvenile and blunt, like life is cruel and so unfair.

I don't know what to say or do at the moment, other than oblige this feeling to share. This is different than if a grandparent passed away. It hits too close to home. She's my cousin, even if it's not by blood, she's my cousin, and she's my friend, and I am going to miss her more than I realize. I wish life had been different for her. Better. Then maybe she would have been given more years. Or been dealt anything else.

Did you know, I don't believe in fate? I believe you control your own destiny. You wield, spin, find your own fate. I don't like the self delusion that someone else is calling your shots, but I see the grandeur and I understand the comfort that comes in the belief that someone else is directing you, so in case you fuck up, you don't have to take the blame. But with conclusions such as, I call bullshit on it all. On our so called God given free will, and bullshit on fatalism, because you apparently can't and don't win either way.

Anyway, enough blogging of my woeful feelings and emotastic personal dilemmas. I'm quite sick of dwelling on our fleeting mortality, dwelling on her, on anything that doesn't bring a smile to my face, or anyone else's for that matter.

So on a less depressing note, let's switch over to the exact opposite, okay? Here, I'll start: I thought it was impossible, but somehow, someway, by some horrific strike by some spiteful, sinister god (the same one who's dealing Sam's cards, I dare say), they unsexied my baby daddy.

That's right. They did, and she said it. So were you listening, Plushi? Did you hear that? MY baby daddy. I'll Krauser knife fight you for him! Just bring it! *hearty fist shake* That, or we can share. You know, set him to a schedule of odd and even days. Drop him off all sparkling clean and posh and never let him wear loose shirts, or pants for that matter, although the pants he wears in RE4 are slammin'...

Oh, dammit. Bloody sexy Leon distracting me! Case in point of le unsexy: Oh, c'mon! As if I'm not pained enough! You go and mess with him? HIM!

How, just how do you unsexy the sexiest fictional man on ever created?! Please. Someone tell me. Specifically the dream fuckers over at Capcom. Because congratulations! You did it! *throws confetti* You did the impossible, and you did it well. Bastards.

Oh, and don't tell me he hasn't been touched either. Because I see it. I'm not blind. It's all over him. Maybe it's just the trailer, but something about him is just... wrong. So wrong, and it's ugly. And I want to throttle it, or kiss and soothe it and make it better, but I can't. I can't! His face is too long. His skin is too waxy. His hair isn't parted right. It's just not Leon, and that drives me nuts!

My only consolation to this trivial and vain ache is my hope of possessing these pretty, pretty babies. That last one is same thing thing as the first two, only with more pictures. Oh, Leon... swoon! You brighten any dreary day with your ridiculous man beauty. Speaking of which, I better go before I end up sleeping the day away. It's very, very late... or early.

<3

PS: Next time I update, it shall be with scribbly pictures. Oh. And shout out to all my homies. That means you. Love ya, dawgs. WOOF.

Oh, except for you. You know who you are... *squinty eyes*



*This is very bittersweet though, because they're also both teenagers, only a year apart in age (seventeen and eighteen, the former with a twenty-two year old fiance!) all of this to my utter chagrin.

Thought I would put this little detail in the footnotes, because, you know, it kind of takes away from the sapient and hopeful knowledge of my elders that I so lovingly shared.

<mood| Crushed>
<music| One Republic - All We Are>

I could fall asleep as I type this, I am so fatigued and that burnt out, but I came here for a reason, and that was to tell you, my friends and fellows, that I am not dead, and the only dead I'll ever be here is tired.

Lately, I've had absolutely no time for art, despite my desperate want to just sit down and draw for hours on end, and even when I get the chance, it's fleeting or exchanged for a long, hard nap, or some other sort of rejuvenation.

Work has been a killer the past few months, and it's worn my roommates and I out like you wouldn't believe. Granted, summer is our blackout and we're fully aware of this exasperating fact, but it still doesn't make it any easier, especially given the late and extra hours kindly given to us by our pseudo Nazi of a boss, who, by the way, is the lowest of the low on the authority totem, which just adds insult to injury.

On that note and a point I have to bring up to get off my chest, said woman has the gall to mock me openly about the havoc the repetitive motion that is my job is doing to my hand, this being another large reason I haven't been drawing; my job is agitating the hell out of my entire right side, knee included.

Slave drive, tease, and try to provoke me as much as you want, but I will not overexert myself in such a way that it results in physical harm to myself. I will not end up like that, not like the others, certainly not when they're younger and older than me, and absolutely not when I'm as young as I am and endangering something as dear to me as my capability to draw.

Pushing that aside though and curbing myself lest I say something I'll regret (but likely not), more recently - this past week to be exact - my great grandmother (who was just grandma to all of us, sibs, cousins, aunts, and uncles) died after it seemed she had fully recovered from pneumonia.

To say the least, it was a gradual shock for me that took it's time to set in, but I'm fine now. Well, I will be as long as my dad, uncles, and aunts are... I'm more worried about them because it really hit them hard because it was like losing their mother all over again. She was the end of an era, last of the elders, and loved by all, so it's difficult to swallow.

The funeral isn't until the third week of September, so hopefully that will give everyone time to process it and cope accordingly. I really look forward to it because after it all, we can have a proper celebration of her wonderful life with the entire family.

In other news concerning the end of August... my aunt and cousin on my mother's side of the family are in town to celebrate the sixth month sobriety of my teenage cousin.

I just found out today that my little brother has officially broken up with his girlfriend of five years and now needs a place to stay since they bought of the lease to hurry things along, and the most prominent option is moving in with me and my roommates, adding four to our house, and if he does that, we'll possibly have three cats.

Also, for some random and slightly exhausting reason, a lot of my male friends want to hang out in the following days, because of course it has to be the week before I fly out for my vacation.

As for the females, a few of them want to bivouac in our backyard because all the campsites are sold out, and, to be honest, girls, you haven't been very nice to Jey, May, and I lately, so tough freaking luck. Go find yourself a nice park or cardboard box to rough it in.

Oh. And before I forget, I have yet to receive my jury deferral that ensues I won't be given a warrant for skipping jury duty while I'm out of state.

And this is where I pass out.

Because overall, and to reiterate, life as of late has been trying, exhausting, painful, hilarious, repetitive, and just plain lackluster and hardly any fun! The only highlight to all this crapolla is my approaching vacation to Hawaii with my roomies. I cannot wait for that. It is a much needed silver lining, and I am thrumming with anticipation. I can't wait to camp, dive, let go, swim, smile, play, ride, hike, breathe, sight see, tan, nap, eat, buy, dance, laugh, relax, and ultimately visit my family and recover via having a blast and preparing myself for school in the fall.

Now let's just hope I can make it to Friday with my jury deferral in hand, check off at least half of my do to list, and not punch and/or bitch out my shitty egotistical boss before then.

<mood| Stressed>
<music| James Morrison - The Pieces Don't Fit Anymore>

My goodness, I haven't been here in ages! Pardon me, but how the hell are you?

<mood| Devious>
<music| Howie Day - Collide>

I have to put my black German Shepard, Timber, to sleep at 3 o'clock today. It's now 12:51. I've had him for more then ten years and the latter portion of my childhood. I know this doesn't compare to the death of a human, but that doesn't matter to me because I'm still losing a beloved member of my family.

Ugh, Timber, I'll miss you. Requiescat in pace, my friend.

<mood| crushed>
<music| Kate Rusby - Little Jack Frost>

What is up, all you beautiful, kick ass people?! I love you all!

<3333

<mood| devious>
<music| Okkervil River - Black>

Stephen Colbert's Americone Dream! I... it... Oh my, does that not just sound utterly, incredibly, fantastically delicious? I remember when this was a rumor, and it could very well be an elaborate, Photoshopped prank, but if my sources are correct (nofactzone.net), this is just a draft for the real deal, due to hit freezers in April.

Yum-mee. What I wouldn't do for a tasty carton of truthiness! And I do hope this is true, because you do not joke about edible things and Colbert, especially not when it's sweet, sweet ice cream.

Also, just for the record (and you know who you are), he is not old, or at least not too old to date (or dream about). He's only a few decades my senior and we’re all consenting adults here, no? Early forties aren’t bad at all, especially if he doesn’t look ‘em, and anyhow, when it comes to Mr. Stephen Colbert, why would it matter and what's not to adore? <333

<mood| enthralled>
<music| Queens of the Stone Age - No One Knows>

...and you're all going to Hell for liking him.

( Now it's time for fun with the fundies. )

<mood| tired>
<music| Godzilla, Mothra, and King Ghidorah: The Movie >

F-locking el diario del fangirl because only mis amigos are allowed to see me act like un idiota.

EDIT: [8/25/08] After careful consideration, I've decided to unlock my journal so the entire world may fall victim to my complete lunacy. Enjoy!


[mood| excited]
[music| Rufio - Don't Forget About Me ]

I should really stop looking for spoilers before I really spoil myself. -_-;;; I can't help it though... it comes out this weekend! My science, I'm going to flip out and drink pomegranate liquor come Sunday! This is probably old news to many of you, but it's new to me, so humor me, won't you?

( Click if you're a spoiled brat )

[mood| excited]
[music| Antonio Vivaldi - Concerto Grosso No. 8 in A Minor, Opus 3 ]

NO... It has begun!

#5 - Now that just melts you like butter.
#6 - Me oh my.
#7 - Complete lies.
#27 - Zelda's a yaoi fangirl.
#32 - Now what would your mother think of those thoughts?
#40 - Burn.
#45 - l o l

Eloquent, am I not? After reading that 1sentence sweetness I first abhorred (only because it had Marth vying for hearts that were not Roy's) I have come to a conclusion: I am entirely smitten with Pit/Link, and to that I say Oh. Hell. No! Because if that's accepted, what next? Samus/Snake love?

[mood| giggly]
[music| Outkast - Hey Ya ]

EDIT: Just an old rant, ignore it, please.

I know you won't see this, you never will, I wouldn't let you, won't, but just so you know, just so someone knows, I wasn't asking for your permission, because that's the last thing I needed you to give.

I was looking for validation, for re-fucking-assurance via confiding in you a decision I had already made, but was so unsure of. Could you not tell? Maybe if you just looked at me? Actually listened to me? How can you be blind and deaf, or be so very blind and deaf at once?

The next time I forgive and forget and history repeats itself, please don't throw my words back in my face like you always do, like you did me some kind of favor by taking time out of your ever busy life to stop, look, and listen. Lord knows you're not that busy, and neither am I, which is why we can find the time to talk to each other so often, or maybe we're not talking often enough.

Either way, a little compassion, a little common sense from you by the tautness of my muscles and strain in my voice on your part would be joyously appreciated, because for fuck's sake, I'm strong, but I can only take so much.

It's not over either. Even if you think running away will end things, I'd rather you stay than leave, that way at least I know where you are. But you want to flee after it all, and you always do, leave to chase the taste I've left in your mouth.

And who am I to stop you? I don't, again I won't, but when you come back and bring with you a liquid apology, a grande chai instead of a mocha, it's instances like that I hate and love, love, love you, and such a dichotomy is crippling. Because it means - because it flawlessly shows - that despite the imperfections, the fluctuating distance and my irreparable loneliness, you were there. You were fucking there, and shit. You actually know me.

[mood| apathetic]
[music|Hot Hot Heat – Middle of Nowhere ]

Just looking for some feedback, please. I'm hoping to jump start the author (see title) into writing again. Here are a few of her older pieces:

( I Was, Still Am )

( Justice )

( Original Sin )

[mood| thirsty]
[music| K-Ci & Jojo - Tell Me It's Real ]

Are you happy, Michi? ARE YOU?

NOW POST YOUR ART, PLEASE.

[mood| complacent]
[music| Brandy - Sittin' Up In My Room ]