You are currently browsing the monthly archive for April 2007.
Shunnnnnnnnnnnnnnn: and i know you know exactly what i mean
Shunnnnnnnnnnnnnnn: lol
Shunnnnnnnnnnnnnnn: tounge twisterrr.
Grrr.: and i know that you know that i know
Grrr.: which you know
Shunnnnnnnnnnnnnnn: BAHAHAHAHA
Shunnnnnnnnnnnnnnn: think about what you’re saying man!
Grrr.: it makes sense
Shunnnnnnnnnnnnnnn: that actually didnt make any sense
Shunnnnnnnnnnnnnnn: no
Shunnnnnnnnnnnnnnn: wat do i know?
Grrr.: that i know
Shunnnnnnnnnnnnnnn: i know what i mean… but you dont know that i know what i mean.
Shunnnnnnnnnnnnnnn: LOL
Shunnnnnnnnnnnnnnn: im going to look back on this and crack up…. HELLOOOOOOO FUTURE SARAH!!!!!
Grrr.: “i know what i mean… but you dont know that i know what i mean” now that is funny. rofl
Shunnnnnnnnnnnnnnn: hahaha
Grrr.: when you add two words added together it gets confusing
Grrr.: i know youre random, which you know because i know from you who knows
Shunnnnnnnnnnnnnnn: touche’ mason touche’
Shunnnnnnnnnnnnnnn: heres one, i know we are both random 1) because you know that i know exactly the same as what YOU know (which is your personality type) and 2) i know because you know that we both no this is weird
Shunnnnnnnnnnnnnnn: brb
Shunnnnnnnnnnnnnnn: done
Shunnnnnnnnnnnnnnn: that was 4 lines of genious. ill give you some time to take it in 
hahahaha
Grrr.: nah, i just waited cause you said ‘brb’.
Shunnnnnnnnnnnnnnn: good boy
Grrr.: i doubt i can compare with the uber, epicness of that
Shunnnnnnnnnnnnnnn: HUZZAHHHHH!
Grrr.: i dont know if you what i know because i dont know how much i know about telling you that which i know im not sure about knowing, and thus dont know if i should tell you what that which i know im not sure about knowing
Shunnnnnnnnnnnnnnn: BAHAHAHAHAHA
Shunnnnnnnnnnnnnnn: ohhhhhhhh snapp.
Grrr.: XD
An everyday conversation with rach – print screened for your enjoyment – however it wouldnt fit on the wordpress page – so i re-sized and the words may become unreadable.
Basically:
Erotica.. || Skyhigh and Fucked.:
like. we would go through shit together
Erotica.. || Skyhigh and Fucked.:
tight as a fucking virgins knees i tell you
Erotica.. || Skyhigh and Fucked.:
fuck. thats a nice metaphor
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WLh3RQigy7c *point* masonnnsss uptighttt*point*:
BAHAHAHAHA
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WLh3RQigy7c *point* masonnnsss uptighttt*point*:
make it up on the spot?
Erotica.. || Skyhigh and Fucked.:
damn right i did
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WLh3RQigy7c *point* masonnnsss uptighttt*point*:
dead set?
Erotica.. || Skyhigh and Fucked.:
no joke
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WLh3RQigy7c *point* masonnnsss uptighttt*point*:
nice man… spread it
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WLh3RQigy7c *point* masonnnsss uptighttt*point*:
pun intended
Erotica.. || Skyhigh and Fucked.:
HAHAHAHAHAHA
*sighs happily*
Meg and Dia – Courage, Robert.
He saw a lonely girl.
She saw a lonely world.
It was a canvas,
slyly careless.
A florestan lieder.
And his was a dying breed.
Courage came only from
his symphonies.
A decorative smile
to fade out.
His concerto in A
Come on.
A second chance at love.
The moments dead.
Make you feel like it’s never staying.
Made love to a baby grand.
A tempest refined inside his hands.
He had one girl, and one song.
Bone fide wine and roulade.
But he had to give it up.
His heart was raw.
But his fingers numb.
His first words were his last words.
An aesthete since first sun.
Come on.
A second chance at love.
The moments slept.
Make you feel like it’s never staying.
It burned.
The first attempt or two.
But I remembered you.
I need that moment back.
Please don’t, don’t don’t.
A tremor for death.
Ivories that sliced sedatives in half.
Releif in the Rhine.
Washed away regrets.
And let him char before he
carressed the ground.
Dear artist you will rise again.
A last arabesque in faint fashion.
Come on.
A second change at love.
The moments dead.
Make you feel like it’s never ending.
It burned.
The first attempt or two.
But I remembered you.
I need that moment back.
Please don’t forget.
He woke.
A final view of blue.
Dear cordias. Wet rouge.
Relieve romance to graves.
Please, please don’t forget
Hooray! Exams are finally over for me – So no school today and i slept til almost 11 and have been bumming around with a HUGE smile on my face – and yes caps lock was needed – it emphasised the pleasure.) As I am in the best of moods today you wont find a hate filled rant aimed towards losers, Americans, selfish self-involved anal retentive bastards, or all of the above (selfish self-involved anal retentive bastards and losers we all know as Americans) although the amount of insults in that on sentence has refreshed my mind a fair bit…
But instead a link – try it youself if you wish – according to the “Gender Genie” I found on Red Jenny’s blog, a majority of my posts conclude, in some mathamatical logic, that I am, in fact, a male.
How does one define a persons gender based on a blog? The Gender Genie bases your sex on how many “feminine” and “masculine” words you use in a blog. You just submit your blog and before you know it - you’re classified as male.
The result of a few of my blogs:
This Boy – Female
1,8000 words and 43 photos of fame – Male
Humans for Sale – Male
Scum – Female
“Get a Job” – They said – Female
So from what I gather, without doing every single post I have written, the Gender Genie sees every intelligent, well planned and logical post I write will be analysed to have been written by a male. Whilst every emotionally intact, thoughtful and slightly angry and bitter post I write will be analysed as written by a female.
Why is this? Is a male viewed as more intelligent? From my experience, it is almost a certain no. The Gender Genie seems to think I am somewhere in between, I must be that new breed of feminine male which i class as fe-man (a word i made up on the spot if you cant tell..) but are classically known as “Metro.”
The Gender Genie is in fact gender confused, as i am a certified (Birth certificate) Female.
Ironically enough – this post was considered male.
The other day I was in the car – driving on some road to get to some place – listening to 104.1 when “put your hands up for Detroit” came on. I was staring out the window thinking about how stressed I am and how I couldn’t wait for exams to be over. 5 seconds into my self absorbed thoughts the car passed a pole, covered in flowers, with a cross underneath bearing the name “Joey.”
Everything I had been thinking of disappeared, I looked at mum but she hadn’t even seen the cross, or at least showed no signs of recognition. I stopped thinking about me – and, in my own way, wished that Joey would now have an easier life, and begged that his or her family be helped through this time. I don’t know why. It’s not exactly like me to pray – having no defined beliefs. I guess I just saw this perfectly positioned cross with the letters in so perfectly aligned and the flowers so perfectly alive and wondered how everything could be so perfect. It reminded me of my granddad.
This morning, too tired to bother caring about the 2 ½ hour paper I would be doing in less than an hour, I sat on the bus, listening to my ipod, and stared aimlessly out the window. I kept the one song on repeat the entire 30 minute trip.I began to watch the people hurrying through the station; students, business people, teachers. Each and every single person ignorant to whoever passed. In the 2-3 minutes the bus was stopped I saw at least 10 people run into another person – without acknowledgment or even a sorry.
Imagine that every single person is somehow, in the tiniest way, similar to you. Yet this person isn’t even good enough to acknowledge.
Still listening to the same song, I have this way of making film clips in my head, their usually simplistic with happy endings, but for the short time there exists a perfect world in my head – where the ending is always happy.
Im fairly sick of my hair. Its not the right length. So im going to cut it.
also it may not be a greatttt idea coz im in a bad mood.
but we shall see. ill update later.
Updateeeee:
The maths study i was supposed to be doing:
My anger resulting in hair cutting:
Ooops. Itll grow back.
I have two days until my exams start… or at least the hard exams.
Monday – modern history
Tuesday – maths
Thursday – DT and Biology
Yeah im sure it doesnt seem like much, but I have studied for two whole weeks – practically non stop – and i am still fairly confident it wont have made a difference.
Anyway that was not the point of this – thats just my stress coming through.
I have work in 10 minutes. So for 3 hours and 15 minutes i should be relatively not annoyed. Unless is mega busy.
Ill just think about “lets take a gander to where we are suposed to be” bahahahaha
Everything sort of seems fake today – i went to sleep tired as fuck – fairly early. But when mum woke me up i felt like i hadnt slept at all.
Fuckkkk.
peeee. esssss.
I looked at the stars last night. They were pretty.
Im sure a majority of people (at least those who will bother to read this) have heard of the Virginia Tech. Massacre. For those who haven’t I will attempt to briefly outline the event.
16 April 2007, a 23-year-old Korean man Cho Seung-Hui, murdered 32 people, injured 29 and then went on to commit suicide after what is being called “the deadliest mass shooting in modern U.S. history.” (wikipedia)
Up until today, I had ignored the fact that this man slaughtered so many unsuspecting people – not even wondering what could have caused this.
Then it occured to me – no human being kills for no reason… I guess thats my logic. So i searched a bit (online because news on TV as i have decided is useless) and came up with this, the most recent “discovery” i assume. My enlightenment came in a package that the murderer mailed to NBC. More shocking; the Postal Service time stamp showing that it had been mailed at a Virginia post office at 9:01 a.m. Monday, about an hour and 45 minutes after Cho first opened fire (he had stopped fire to send this package and then returned to continue). The package contained a video manifesto cosisting of 1,800 words and 43 photos of himself brandishing weapons.
You had a hundred billion chances and ways to have avoided today… But you decided to spill my blood. You forced me into a corner and gave me only one option. The decision was yours. Now you have blood on your hands that will never wash off.
How does one man become so completley detatched that, not only does he resort to murder and suicide, but also pre-meditates a video giving reasons?
You have vandalized my heart, raped my soul and torched my conscience… You thought it was one pathetic boy’s life you were extinguishing. Thanks to you, I die like Jesus Christ, to inspire generations of the weak and the defenseless people.
A fourth year english major with a point to prove, i wonder if, in his eyes, his life and the lives of 32 others was a just price to pay for 1,800 words and 43 photos of fame.
If you hate someone, you might want them to go away, but thats not the answer… coz if they fall down and get hurt, you wont be there to watch.
Revelation!!!
The absolute wonder of Myspace: Whilst scanning random Myspaces (instead of doing copious amounts of unappealing work and study) it occurred to me – a majority of them are the same, yet disguised by a layout or numerous HTML codes.
In a way I am ashamed that I ever let myself get sucked into this ideal of “friendship on the internet”, yet I still find myself on myspace on a daily basis. I’m not going to lie; I rely on myspace a lot of the time. Yet as I scan these pages, for lack of something better to do, I find myself disgusted with who these people become just to “fit in”, and thank my dignity, pride and self respect that I am not at this stage (and never plan to be).
a) Firstly, the addition of “ers” or “s” onto random words, making them not actually words – does not make you cool, but rather illiterate. Stop it. Example 1:
I DON’T LIKE
- Fat Ass And Light Pole
- Hipocrits
- Two Facers
- Talk It Up’s
- Better Then Everyone Elsers
- Shit Don’t Stinkers
- Laughing Drunks
(note that the word hypocrites was actually spelt “hipocrits”… a laughing matter in itself.)
b) Then there is the range of people who think talking in third person is an invention of their own – you are not the only person on myspace who talks in third person – its more like your one in 4/5, and honestly, reading it doesn’t impress me nor your “friends”, however it does give me the urge to slap some sense into your moronic mind.Example 2:
She is 16 year’s of age
She loves to wear tight straight legged jeans
She has black hair
She has very ice coloured blue eyes
Music is her life
Note to 16 year old female, you may as well write “she is just like everyone else, and she is proud” fuck you and stop bolding your words – we get the point, you’re just like every other girl that is too young to sell herself in reality.
c) Noticeably, there are many amateur photographers out there. Somewhat disappointingly – Campbelltown seems to breed shittiness in terms of what these “myspacers” view as photography:
Endless photos of feet, in circles, in pairs, of people holding hands, of hands making love hearts, of shadows, of grass, fences, trees, sunrises and sunsets at some “artistic” camera angle.
How any of it is passed off as Art is beyond me – it falls just short of my disgust of the well known “top 8” and how your “friends” will be moved every 10 seconds. A fake reality that many seem pleased with.
d) And finally, in relation to the many photographs you try to pawn off as artistic, is the number of people who pose and sell how “unique” they are, perhaps attempting to gain more friends in highlighting “individuality”. The sad thing is these photos are merely to promote their new hair, clothes, or some four letter word that conveniently fits across their knuckles. And more pathetically, there seems to be some belief that writing “fuck”, “rawr” or “cunt” across ones knuckles makes you hardcore or “in.” I look at these and think, honestly, what kind of fuckwit stands on a bath, and wastes their time, taking photo after photo of a friend, for the sole purpose of myspace. And on top of that, what kind of person takes these photos, edits every flaw out, then posts it on myspace, just to sell themselves and beg for strangers to comment?
A lengthy post, yet it still only covers ¼ of the reasons why I despise myspace – In general, the fact that some “myspacers” would sell themselves for little to nothing, all over the internet, does not say alot for “our generation.”
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