i <3 kazaa i <3 kazaa. immensely. not only do i have photoshop and paintshop pro (both version 7 :-D) but i have a huge collection of music. and it grows every day.
entire collection as of a few days ago. (i have d/led at least 30 more songs since then)
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September 22, 2002 @ 9:21 pm
[gloats]
seven pints of acrylic paint (phtalo green, fire red, cobalt blue, titanium white, mars black, metallic silver, and chrome yellow)
set of fifty oil pastels.
set of twelve acrylics.
two new sets of paintbrushes.
new watercolor paper pad.
new drawing pads.
new watercolors set.
tortillons. (yay!)
watercolor pencils. (these are AWESOME)
sharpie markers (who DOESN'T love these)
new glue (much needed)
new x-acto knife (ermmm...)
kneaded eraser.
matte fixative.
uhm.. i think that's it... but for me, that is a LOT.
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September 22, 2002 @ 3:37 pm
juliana theory--breathing by wires
lashes to saviors
glued to the monitor
trained behavior
reduced to a number
mechanic enslavement
a virtual prison
selected detainment
a gradual nightmare
suicidal impulse
a cycle of habit
undeniable loss
breathing by wire
a network of heroes
processing data
as ones and zeros
carry me through the wires
bury me in the screen
shift me into this fixation
cling to the machine
this is now your world
and you barely made it
did you think that it would cradle you
until you were asleep forever?
did you? did you? did you?
carry me through the wires
bury me in the screen
shift me into this fixation
cling to the machine
this is now your world
and you barely made it
did you think that it would cradle you
until you were asleep forever?
did you? did you? did you?
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September 22, 2002 @ 4:59 am
don't read this. i'm fucking dumb.
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September 22, 2002 @ 1:04 am
over emotional. what the fuck is wrong with me?
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September 22, 2002 @ 12:44 am
she's at her bitter end.
i kept hitting my arms, and they stung and the scabs kept catching on the sweater i was wearing.
that would be my fault.
shut up shut up shut up. mindless BULLSHIT.
STOP FUCKING READING. I'M NOT SAYING ANYTHING WORTH YOUR TIME. EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU. STOP FUCKING CARING.
(((dad, your (girl) is about to fall. (s)he walks the razor's edge. (s)he's on the brink of fading out. (s)he's at (her) bitter end. dad, your (girl) who used to run, you taught (her) how to crawl. (s)he left home to find (her) own, now all (s)he had is gone. in your eyes i see a darkness that torments you and in your head where it dwells. i'd give you my hand if you'd reach out and grab it. let's walk away from this hell.)))
(altered, because it seemed fit.)
i cannot stop clenching my jaw and grinding my teeth.
(((if i told you this was killing me, would you, would you stop?)))
(note to self. must get ahold of mom for money. i don't want to go to jail.)
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