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hello. with a thousand quizzes. [24 Feb 2005|03:13am] [ mood | in pain. again. ] [ music | my head. throbbing. ] Hello. I'm alive, if this is a state of being technically possible at three A.M. ( Feel the love. FEEL IT. ) Malt bread is t3h seks. And. My back hurts. post comment

nonsensical shit. eo; [07 Feb 2005|12:51am] [ mood | wonderful. ] [ music | the throbbing of my headache. ] I'd hate this but I don't think I can really remember how. I've never really hated anything much. Maybe I should. Maybe it'd be something - normal, I guess? Sometimes it feels like I'm not really alive at all. Breathing and a heartbeat don't make you alive. It takes more than that. And even though I give more, I never give enough. I've never really given it my all in anything. Never had to. Tomorrow I have a meeting with the vice-principal. I don't really care. Nobody can hurt you - nobody can do /anything/ to you when you're a million miles away. Or maybe I shouldn't try to feel anything. Maybe this is the way it's supposed to be for your average, garden-variety white middle-class have-it-all bitch like me. >o; There are people out there who should be allowed to hate, allowed to feel. And here I am - here /we/ are, the children who deny that we're children and dress up like hookers just so we blend in with everybody else and can actually /afford/ it, bitching about the little things, the small things. Other people have it bad. Other people have it worse. Iraq, for example. The people down in Sri Lanka and Sumatra and everywhere else. Hell, the average person on the bus has it worse than I do. I should sit back, relax, and enjoy the show. Shouldn't I? Maybe it's better just to let things go by, but I can't help but think that maybe there /are/ people out there, real people, who don't feel like they just sort of drift through life. After all, you see them all on TV and on the net and everywhere. And even 'the most outrageous fiction has a grain of truth contained in it'. Something like that. I'm not really here, I don't think. Not really there - wherever there is - either. Somewhere in between. Like one of those sad little flies trapped in amber, tiny and monstrous all the same. Maybe that makes me one, too. I hate it that I can turn on the TV, see all the shit that's out there in the world, and just change the channel. That's just fucking wrong. post comment

raindrops and roses and whiskers on kittens. bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens. [31 Jan 2005|09:06pm] [ mood | IN PAIN. ] [ music | Passenger - Maynard James Keenan/Deftones ] Today I skipped. I didn't mean to. I woke up too late; was too tired out. Insomnia, again, and there isn't anything remotely resembling a sedative in our house. >>; So I missed the morning. Then I missed the afternoon - I went to school at lunch, everybody'd went in, and it was far too late anyways, so I decided to just hang out; walk around, because I'd rather have an absent on my report card than a late. I hate getting late slips from the secretary - it's not my fault I can't sleep until one o' clock and my mom insists on waking me up at /seven/. At /least/ seven. Well. I originally wanted to just go to the local bookstore and stay there and read, because it was cold. Well, not too cold in comparison - minus... three, I guess? Cold enough, anyways. I had about two dollars and seventy five cents - so actually /getting/ a book was out of the question, and I don't have a library card any more, so I dunno /why/ I wanted to go to the street that's plastered all over with shops. Maybe it's because it's alive - well, not really. No. Kensington Market is alive; it's this lovely market where you've got... I can't explain it. It's just awesome. The street - I'm not mentioning it because I live close to there - once was like that, I guess, but now it's just a bunch of Pizza Pizzas, Timothy's, Second Cup's, and designer fashion stores. I like hanging out there, though, just because you get to watch people there - they're not as alive or as different as in Kensington, but sometimes you catch street musicians and whatnot (thought not so often now, because of the winter) and it's really quite interesting. So. I'm walking down the street towards the other unnamed street - both are pretty large. This odd, random guy passed me, said 'hi', which was odd because nobody says hi at 1 PM in the afternoon - it's just a bunch of old ladies in too-red lipstick and immaculately coiffed silver hair. I passed him, eventually; didn't notice it. He, for some reason, ran past me and ran /away/ from me, and scared the shit out of me in the process. o.o IT WAS REALLY FREAKY. I didn't hear him. And then I see this lovely little park in the sun... all abandoned and empty. The playground is one of those wooden ones; not the cheesy plastic. It looked like some sort of... castle, I guess. There was a skating rink - just an iced over area, with benches on the side. Only souls around are two old dog-walkers in those cheesy fake-suede coats, and they disappear as soon as I walk by. On the bench beside me is the saddest thing; I don't know why. A pair of kid's mittens, fleece and all nice and dark blue, with snow-flakes on them. I got out my sketchbook; tried drawing them. I have some rough sketches; I spend over an hour and a half in that park, drawing. A few people walked by; otherwise it was so empty and quiet that you could hear the squirrels running around in the branches of the trees all the way across the park. I started on a triptych of 'see no evil, speak no evil, hear no evil'... sort of thing. The 'hear no evil' is first, with a semi-anorexic girl staring at you creepily, with huge headphones (like mine! xD) around her ears. Then there's 'see no evil', on the other side; this woman (or man) - they're pretty androgynous - with those sunglass-thingies you wear when suntanning over her/his eyes, and all sort of semi-illuminated. 'Speak no evil' is in the center, of course, and it's this guy with tape over his mouth. The tape's curved upwards, so it looks like he has an ear-to-ear sort of grin, but his eyes are all buggy and freaked out and I think I might do tearstains on his face or something. xDD Hahaha. =wiggle= Anyways. After freezing my fingers off and being unable to draw the mittens, I considered leaving a note on them for someone to take them home. It was heartbreaking how it looked - just there on the bench, all alone, neatly semi-on top of each other. I decided against it, and went to the bookstore because I was shivering and probably getting hypothermia. Spent an hour reading part of 1984; couldn't buy it. Lovely so far, though. Bought a chocolate bar instead with my two dollars; went home. Mom doesn't know, which is good because otherwise I'd lose computer privileges for two weeks. It's not like I'm not one of - if not the - best students in my class. I don't have to try at all in school and that sucks ass, but I don't care. They only take marks from your tests, anyways - it's not like it matters. I found out I missed the day I was supposed to present my speech in the gym. I'm pissed. I missed my speech. Grr. ... you know what I'd hate to be? One of those old women in tacky fur coats with bright red lipstick. Two of them sat behind me on the bus a while ago; I think it was after kendo practice... Anyways. They had nothing to talk about; they were talking about the /stores/ they saw on the way, for God's sake. I felt kind of bad for them; I think one of my ideas of hell'd be growing old and withered and incapable of talking or thinking or saying anything interesting, except for meaningless little bits of nothing that nobody cares about... I dunno. o.o I mean, not all old women are like that. Just them. Judging by my writing, I'm halfway there. ><; Writer's block has finally convinced me I am a talentless hack. In writing, anyways. o_o; And music. I still might have hope as an artist; probably not, though. Sigh. post comment

not everyone here is stuck down and cold. [29 Jan 2005|07:02pm] [ mood | okay ] [ music | The Warmth - Incubus. Kill me now. Please. ><;; / Forty-Six and Two - Tool ] Art class was fun today. Mhmm. I had to draw this chick who was modeling for us - just a bunch of really quick sketches. Some of them turned out really nicely; others... weren't so good. My favourite is this profile of her sitting in this chair, sort of looking off to the side. It's nice. And then there's this one where I had to draw just her hands - well, two, actually. One was just one hand gripping onto the back of a chair and the other was two hands sort of linked together. Oddness. It was tres annoying to get to art class. ><; Band practice was last night, apparently. I'm going to eat Scott. >>; He SAID 'Saturday; around four o' clock'. Turns out the guys had PIZZA and VIDEOGAMES and A PRACTICE without ME. ... xD Ah well. I'm the bossy bitch there, anyways. xD Hnn. >>' Why do I keep on getting checked out by old scary men? o.o On the way to art class: Jenny: Hey. Does this bus stop at Martingrove? Bus driver: =stares at Jenny; looks down, looks up again. keeps on doing that. stares at my chest.= Jenny: ... does this bus stop at Martingrove? Bus driver: What? Oh. Yeah. It does. Jenny: >>>=O Idea for dying my hair. xD Dark blue, with my bangs bright red. Odd. But it'd be cool. I still can't decide between the dark blue or the red or the dark blue with red streaks or something else. o.o Yeah. xDDD I just randomly feel like dying my hair BECAUSEIAMHARDCORE. Well, no. I'm kinda lame. Shh. Don't tell. xDDDD Mom got pissed at me when I mentioned it because I can't keep my mouth shut - what is it with mothers and their daughters' hair? I mean, it's not like it's hers. >>; xD Haha. Dad's here. Mom gets pissed whenever I so much as talk to him. >>; Grr. He's /my/ dad. >>;; Mmm. This entry was supposed to be coherent. I'm afraid it isn't. Le sob. Let's all mourn. MOURNMOURN. SADNESS. I'm going to talk about my left arm. Okay? Left arm. I have PAX written on the back of my left hand, which is, of course, 'peace' in Latin. It's written in my mom's shiny eye pencil and looks cool and shiny, sort of like mercury. Then 'evil lies within'. Personal slogan. Then a barcode and a radiation warning sign. Then 'closer'. And on the inside of my wrist 'skin depth: 2000m'. Referring to my apathy, I guess. xDDD And then on the inside of my elbow, on the vein where they stick in a needle 'effigy' which corresponds to 'eulogy' on the other side. 'Eulogy' was not brought to you by Tool. Maybe subliminally. But still. My arms are cool. >D GLEE. I'm going to get ink poisoning. Dammit. XD 2 comments|post comment

[28 Jan 2005|10:02pm] [ mood | ecstatic ] [ music | Elite - Deftones ] Well. Auditions were okay, I guess. I can't believe it's over. My strings audition was horrible and I didn't even get to play my bass because they screwed up the schedule, and my guitar sucked because my hands were shaking, I was so nervous, but my art audition was wonderful. We had to draw a still life piece and a thing from imagination ( a half-eaten apple, ping-pong ball, and ball of yarn skewered on a long sharp knitting needle, the assignment said) and that really relaxed me. I had the interview and it went quite well; the two teachers were really nice and really liked my portfolio and whatnot, and I kind of wanted to just stick around just to talk with them some more, because they were cool and interesting unlike most of my teachers. There's a funny thing about ESA. In the columns of the lists, they don't have 'male/female' for gender. They have 'his/her'. It's kind of odd. I don't see why, but it's just one of those little odd things I notice. The school's wonderful, by the way; there's all this gorgeous artwork hanging in the halls and the whole school is really friendly and whatnot, and they're all different, not organized into 'preppy' and 'so-called gothic preppy' cliques. It's cool. The strings teacher has a blue mohawk and likes ska. He had a checkered belt like mine and asked if I liked ska because I was wearing the belt. I said it was okay - depended on my mood. Which is true. I admit to listening to ska on occasion when I need to be cheered up. xDDD Anyways. And he said I should just be accepted for wearing my kickass belt. Oh, and I cut my hair today. XD Just my bangs; the rest is still ridiculously long. I'm gonna dye my hair sometime... either red, or dark blackish-blue. I can't do neon green or anything (damn... ;_;) 'cause I'd have to bleach it and I don't want it to be permanent. I mean, the stuff should wash out. xD So. Red or blackish-blue? CHOOSE ONE. XD 2 comments|post comment

what have I become? [27 Jan 2005|09:12pm] [ mood | scared ] [ music | Hurt - Nine Inch Nails ] One day until ESA auditions and I'm not ready. I don't even have my guitar piece. I'm scared shitless. I don't have my portfolio together; I'm going to sound horrible on my bass. My self-esteem has dropped to negative values - at least, as a bassist. Yesterday, I was practicing with my music teacher, getting stuff together for ESA. I sounded horrible. She told me to say 'that you've only been playing for a few months and are planning on taking private lessons'. Now. Maybe I'm overreacting, but I wouldn't /have/ to say that if I was actually good. Right? Anyways. So, I made the mistake of trying to have a heart-to-heart, spill-my-guts sort of thing with my mom. You know what she did? She said she was tired, told me that it was my fault I hadn't practiced, and shut the door in my face. I fell asleep on the floor of my room last night and made myself stop crying. God. Jenny crying - what is this world coming to? I /know/ I'm stronger than that, than crying over some audition that doesn't even matter because I'm probably not going to the Arts school anyways. And. I dunno. Changing the subject. We had a good band practice on Wednesday - wrote about two half-songs. Dan decided to call one 'Corporate Whore'. Dunno why. I wrote pretty much the whole song, except for the singing and the drumming. Hnn. It sounds awesome, though. Alex wasn't there - Ryan was. Ryan can't play very well, and he was just sitting in the corner, playing some random song over and over and we weren't really including him and I felt like shit about it. I mean, the guy's in a /band/. The least we can do is have him /play/ in it, right? So, I made Dan surrender over his bass to Ryan and then Ryan made up some little riff and I backed him up on rhythm guitar and we wrote another half-song. I have the lyrics; I'm gonna finish them tomorrow after auditions, if I survive them. God. I feel so nervous I'm sick. And, y'know, I don't get nervous pretty easily. Well, I do. Even over little things. But I can force it down and get on with my day, get on with things - this doesn't. I feel like I'm going to throw up or burst into tears. I don't want to do it. But then, when my mom started yelling at me tonight I think I told her something along the lines of - 'see, that's the problem with you. You never go through with things if something isn't to your liking. I go through with things, so stop bitching at me.' Etcetera ad nauseatum. She said she was going to call the police and social services and have someone else adopt me but it's obvious she never goes through with it. Yeah. Mom's a hypocrite. e_e; But then, I'm not one to complain - I tried committing suicide over the summer. Kind of stupid. I chickened out, though - I'm a great big coward, you know? You wouldn't guess it, looking at me in real life, where everyone assumes I'm strong and brave and smart... which is really the most ridiculous thing ever - but it's true. So I chickened out; cops came. Shrink should've come, too. Anyways. A few days later I ran away for a few hours; walked for /ages/, sat in front of a gas station, stared at the people working there, and walked back. Then I ran away /again/. Well. It wasn't running; I just sort of hung out outside. I really /do/ want to move out, but... I dunno. I guess I was lying back there, a few hours ago, just now. I /don't/ go through with things. Not the ones that matter, at least. So no matter how scared I am of this audition, I have to do it. But then, it doesn't matter. It shouldn't. But it /does/. I need to know that I'm good enough as a musician and artist to get into, like, the best arts school in the city. I need to know I have that - everyone /tells/ me that I'm talented and 'special', but I don't believe them. Seeing is believing for me. Maybe that's why I'm an atheist. God. I need to talk to someone. Or something. ><; Please. I don't care who it is, but keep me from going out of my mind. 3 comments|post comment

bestrafe mich. i've been lazy. [20 Jan 2005|08:45pm] [ mood | pissed off ] [ music | Walk - Pantera ] ESA auditions in one week. Shit. Er. Well. I'm sick with something odd and I have insomnia. I missed school today because my mom took a day off and felt bad for me, so I fell asleep for a bit on the couch. Went off to the library to try and get another library card; turns out I have to have an ID. Some 17-year-old guys tried to hit on me and it was very, very awkward. So, I went off to Bloor, and saw 1984 in a bookstore. Tried to get it, but it cost $19 and I had, like 17. >>; If I hadn't bought that fucking chocolate bar! I can't find the book anywhere; in three weeks of searching for it, this is the only time I've actually physically seen it on the shelves. My throat hurts and I sliced my nail open this morning. I came up with some odd bit of dialogue which I was going to use in a story, and then turned into some crappy semiautobiography. o.o And I have a test tomorrow. History. Haven't studied. Damn. I have a cool hat, though. It has a little peace button thing on it which I stuck on. Haha. "There used to be this show I'd watch as a kid; it was all cops and guns and boots and all. I never got out much, so it became a sort of temporary sanity for me to create worlds of my own - and, consequently, watch them - instead of going out into the real one. I mean, who /didn't/ spend their evenings as a kid watching shitty late-night television, right? -- Well. So, there was this one show, I remember, it was really exciting. All bang! and boom! and all, right? So I watched it, became completely entranced. It would've worked, too, but at three AM they reran it again for hell's sake, right? Well. I watched it again and suddenly all the holes fell into place. It was like looking at a diamond in bright light and being dazzled by it and then looking closer as your eyes adjusted and finding that it wasn't perfect, it wasn't pristine and clear. The show was flawed, like everything else was, and it made me feel a little down. You know? If TV's not perfect, then what's the /point/ of trying to go on? If the cookie-cutter molds are flawed, then what else /can/ you be? "So. There was this one bit I remember where this guy was running, running, as fast as he could. Really stunning scene. But then, in the second time I watched it, I remembered catching myself thinking - 'Hey. What's this guy running /from/? Where's he running /to/?' There wasn't such thing as running for fuck's sake, back in the day. Even in races, with the amateur sprinters all wafer thin, as if you could break them in half with your bare hands. They were running from the starting line, from the possibility of failure, from what they /were/ into the glory and the silver shine of glamour. They were running to the finish line, running not for the moment but what came after it. There was always a point A and a point B. The journey didn't mean shit 'cause you already knew where you'd end up, and you had to keep your eyes on the goal, you know? Couldn't have yourself looking off elsewhere, 'cause then you slow down and everything would fall apart. "Now, this guy in the show, he wasn't running from a cop or anything. He was just running; there was nothing chasing him and he wasn't stealing anything. You'd think he was a criminal but then, why run? You'd only draw attention to yourself. But then, there was this time I remember, a few times I remember, where the night was soft and the breeze was light and you just wanted to /run/. And despite the stitch in my side and the soreness of my legs, I /ran/ until there was a coppery, fishy taste in my mouth not entirely unlike blood. And then, when I remembered that I wondered - where was I /going/? I hadn't known. My legs took directions from my feet; my feet, my bare feet took directions from the sand and that didn't make /sense/. There had to be something I was running to. There had to be something I was running /from/. This didn't achieve anything, these night runs. They didn't do anything, didn't amount to anything but exhilarated smiles and ragged breathing. "I don't know what that's supposed to say. I don't know what point A and B was, but the path I was running sure as hell wasn't a straight line between two points, like in geometry. Someday, I want to feel like that again, just going and feeling free, but it's never like that any more, is it? You've got to have purpose and determination and dedication to survive. Running for the hell of it doesn't follow that, running because you want to doesn't mean that. You've got to have a starting line and a finish line. You've got to have something to run from." I didn't bother spell-checking it or editing 'cause I think it sucks. But, there it is. Haha. Jenny tries to write something inspirational. I don't know if I should go to ESA if I get accepted - it's an arts school, you see. And I'm good in the arts... I'm auditioning for a double major in visual arts and music, but I don't know if it's a good idea. I mean, what if I end up not wanting to continue in the arts? What if I want to do something in the sciences... or... something? ._. I could go to gifted at this other school but that's stupid because in four years, I'll be in the exact same position and won't know where the hell to go. It sucks ass to think and act like you're cool and independent and then realize the only thing you really want is someone to make the decisions for you. I should go eat something, maybe, but even though I haven't eaten a thing since breakfast I don't want to. Gnn. We have new computers in our school. It has a system that's really, really fucked - we can't do anything without the teacher knowing. So, this means I can't even update my LJ from school, 'cause dear Mr. Ward A.K.A. Big Brother will know and it'll come back and bite me in the ass. Running for the sake of running. How fucked up is /that/? On another note... How Stereotypical You Are... Created by uraverageteen and taken 28419 times on bzoink! The Generic Teenager Stereotype Do you drink [alcohol]? I am thirteen. A minor. Okay? So no. Except for a little champagne at new year's. x.x; xD Do you party a lot? How often? I don't like parties. Go away. Do you use drugs for recreational purposes? Hell no. How often do you use the word like in an average hour? Depends if I'm imitating someone or not. Do you skip classes? How often? Does sleeping in because of insomnia forcing you to stay up until four in the morning and then missing school count? Do you have casual sex? Protected? No. Ew. Do you steal? No. Except for food from my friends when I'm hungry at lunch, but I ask and they say yes, even though they accuse me of being a thief. Hypocrites. Do you wear inappropriate clothing? Hnn. No. Well, I like odd slogan shirts and whatnot. So. Yeah. Do you drool over celebrities? Fuck no. Do you watch a lot of TV? Only when I can't sleep. Do you ever watch the News? Only to find out what the time and the weather is so I don't get ridiculously late/freeze to death. Do you even care about world issues? Yes, I guess. Do you read books often? Definitely. Are you failing a lot of your classes? I have a ninety-something average. Go away. Do you spend most of your time with your friends? Not really. Do you smoke cigarettes? No. Cigarettes are evil. Do you hang out a lot in malls, or at Seven Elevens? Neither. I have other fish to fry. >>; Do you often find yourself with a crush on someone? No. Do you cuss a lot? Fuck no. xD Are you desperate to fit in? Not really. Are you intelligent? Depends on who you're comparing me to. The Goth Stereotype Black lipstick? No. Black eyeliner? Sometimes, but not to school or anywhere, just when I'm bored. Black eyeshadow? No. Black trenchcoat? Would be cool. Black boots? Yes please. @@ Not like I'll ever get them, mind. Black fishnets? I like colours. Black nail polish? No. Cigarettes? I answered this, didn't I? Heavy metal music? Yes. Marilyn Manson? No. Kittie? Sometimes. .O; They're okay. Cradle of Filth? Sure. =3 Constant frown and perpetual angst? Hell no. Do you like to be seen as what? Are you an intellectual? Guess so. An atheist? I prefer the term 'agnostic'. Horrible home life? That's what my journal's for. And no. Not in comparison to others. I have nothing to complain about. Or I shouldn't, at any rate. Hopelessly depressed? Was once. Am not now. Suffering with suicidal idealations? Was. Am not now. Self-mutilation? Was. Don't do it now. The Punk Stereotype Plaid? Eh. No. Big black boots? Sure. =3 Mohawk? Ohyeah. =D Excessive piercings? [Especially facial] Mmm, no. Loud, confident and opinionated? Occasionally. I'm kind of bipolar in that way. Wild hair colors? Sure. NOFX? Nah. Rancid? Nah. But they have good basslines. Well versed on political scandals and outrages? Sometimes. A person. The Jock Sterotype What's your IQ? Dunno. Do you watch a lot of sports? No. Play a lot of sports? Sort of. Suck at them, though. Talk a lot about sports? No. Do you do anything, really, but think about sports? Yes. Are you arrogant? Sometimes. Are you a male or female whore? Fuck no. Are you homophobic? No. I think I might be a lesbian, or might be turning into one. And that's just fine. Do you tease other people a lot because you want to seem confident? No. But really you're a quivering mass of insecurity? Hnn. Too apathetic. Boobs = yes? Nah. Parties = yes? Nah. Dropping out of high school and flipping burgers = yes? Fuck, no. The Girl Stereotype Do you spend a lot of time on your appearence? No. Have you ever been on a diet? No. I suck at commitments. How much did you lose? No. Was it not so much a diet as it was an eating disorder? I don't do the whole anorexia thing, thank you. Make yourself throw up? Only when I've swallowed something toxic. Make-up? No. Low-cut tops? No. How big are your boobies? [Cup size] 35C. Ew. It doesn't help that I'm otherwise pretty small. eo; Do you flip your hair when you talk, even if you don't realize it? No. Giggle a lot? Fuck, no. What's the deal with boys? They're my friends. And they're better than most girls, which isn't saying much - they've all got shit for brains. Thongs? No. I never really got why people want to give themselves voluntary wedgies. eo; Pretty bras? No. YM, Teen, Cosmo, et al? Only if I get to burn them. And the hellspawn who created them. Who's the weaker sex? Neither. Are you a feminist? Eh, why not. Do you think Brad Pitt is hot? Ew. How often do you shave your legs? Occasionally. Don't need to. How about your armpits? Every day. Are you emotional? Not really. Especially when on your period? Nope. This Or That [Oh, that old coconut.] Originality or Acceptance? Originality. Independence or Companionship? Dunno. It depends. You can't just put one over the other. Stability or Freedom? Freedom. Stability's nice but it doesn't get you anywhere. Personal or Interpersonal? Heh. Introvert or Extrovert? Depends on who I'm around. Popularity or Isolation? Isolation, thankyouverymuch. Unique or Loved? How do these contradict each other? -- OH. So that's why my mom hates me, eh? Understood or Individual? How do they contradict each other? Really. I thought these were opposites. You or Them? Depends who they are. It'll usually be them, though. It always is. Create a Survey | Search Surveys | Go to bzoink! post comment

whoo. [07 Jan 2005|06:40pm] [ mood | ecstatic ] [ music | Jimmy - Tool/ Some random song - In-Line Parking ] Today is an amazing day. My bass - the one I play at school - is. Physically. With me. At home. If I turn around in my computer chair, I can see it. It's beautiful. And I'm in a band. It has a bad name, but I'm in a band with four other guys. Band's name is In-Line Parking. I didn't come up with it. Weird name, though. But good band. I am a backup bassist, a lead/rhythm guitarist, and backing vocals. Dan sings, Scott plays drums, Ryan can't really play guitar but does, and Alex plays guitar awesomely. We. Kick. Ass. Alex brings in mall-punk music for us to play but that'll all change. I have a bass teacher. She is our music teacher, and a professional bassist. She teaches me - for free, just out of the goodness of her own beautiful, talented bassist heart - at lunch and helps me out with technique and all. I think I'm in awe - she is. Amazing. I'd consider myself incredible if I managed to get a milligram of a fraction of an iota of a fragment of her talent. Today, my friends, is an amazing day. 3 comments|post comment

paperback writers. [02 Jan 2005|04:37pm] [ mood | crappy ] [ music | Dragostea Din Tei - O'Zone/Blue - Eiffel 65 ] God. I'm so tired - I stayed up the entire night last night. ._. And read possibly the worst book in history - Digital Fortress, Dan Brown. >>; I read the Da Vinci Code too, which was just as bad but at least it had some interesting information in it. Brown's 'thrillers' all have the same plot, which basically sucks ass and involves codes, secret agents, and whatnot. Main characters are, for BOTH books and pretty much all the other ones, a brilliant and beautiful female cryptologist and a tall, dark, and handsome teacher/professor/linguist. e.e; And they're in LOFF. =cough= One scene that pissed the HELL out of me was when the tall, dark and handsome David Brecker or whatever his name was, was being chased around Spain by this sniper guy. Now, this sniper guy was extremely well-trained. He took down other targets earlier in the book - really, really tricky ones. And he did it while being extremely secretive. So. Pretty-boy David is being chased after obtaining this ring which is their Holy Grail, and because he's that stupid, he gets on an old Vespa motorcycle whose top speed is fifty miles per hour. His assassin is in a taxi which is doing ninety miles per hour easily. His assassin is incredibly well-trained. His assassin has a clear shot of David's amazingly muscular and handsome back. He shoots; he misses! A little later, our hero Davie turns down a cliched narrow alley. His motorbike stops; he's forced to run off. While being chased by two guys in a car. He gets shot; but the experienced assassin only hits him in the side. It's supposedly only a flesh wound and it hits him in the hip. Now, unless Davey is fat - which he isn't, because he's Tall, Dark, and Handsome - you can't REALLY get a flesh wound on your hip. And if you do, it'd hurt so much you'd go down. But, no, Davey continues running and the wound stops bleeding after, like, fifteen minutes. It's a GUNSHOT WOUND, man! He runs into a church, has to jump out of a window 325 feet above the ground and hold on to the window ledge while his assassin tries to get him. The assassin, being incredibly experienced, doesn't hear the moaning noises coming from outside the window and the white fingertips clinging onto the ledge, and passes by. Our boy Davey somehow pops himself back in, runs back down the stairs, and gets shot in the chest. Now, we think he dies. His fiancee, the beautiful cryptologist, Susan, whose name is like Sophie's in the Da Vinci Code in that it's part of a five-letter password key, with an IQ of 170 who somehow fails to recognise an anagram that I spotted at the beginning of the book, is all in tears. Her coworker and boss both try to rape her, but Righteousness Prevails. It turns out all is well and David isn't dead, that it was just a 'stun-gun' flesh wound that hit him in the chest, and the book ends with a random steamy sex scene and a pillow fight. e.e; I wasted two hours of my life reading that piece of crap that I'll never get back. Seriously, guys, don't even BUY his books, even if you're just gonna burn them, because the stupid idiot who can't think of an original plot for beans will just get more money. His reviews claim him to be the most 'intelligent, accomplished, and original author' or whatever. Well, he'd have to be pretty fucking accomplished and intelligent to sell that stuff on the market. Things like that make me /so/ confident about my writing, though. My grade 3 6-page novel was better and it was about two killer whales who were attacked by sharks and then lost their pod and went on to do Many Heroic Things. >>;; I should start on my homework. I've been putting it off, but I'm so tired and cranky. >>; Seriously. Talentless hacks that get published rile me a little - talentless hacks who get published and are given the #1 New York Times thing-o make me want to do something gory to them involving squid. >>;;;;;;;;; The book's not even a THRILLER. It's a COMEDY novel. I was laughing my head off when David died, and was incredibly sad when he came back. And the preppy bitch of a cryptologist, Susan, should've gotten blown up when the super-computer blew up, but she DIDN'T. >>; Even though laws of physics say that she was SUPPOSED to, or at least break her neck while she was being shoved out of the way by the blast. >>; Sigh. you are either a record nerd or not a scenester at all. you are the coolest of the bunch. bravo, dude. what type of lame scenester are you? brought to you by Quizilla Lemon Tea... Strong willed and a bit feisty in temper you stand out from other people! Creative but dangerous you have few friends and those that have been accepted into your small group are special and unique just like yourself. Once your mind is made up that's it and no one can change it. You can think clearly and figure out just what to do in a tense situation which is a rare gift. You arent twisted by societies rules and regulations and are rebel by nature! What type of Tea are you? {-With Anime Pictures!-} brought to you by Quizilla Hnn. I feel cooler than I should. Perhaps I cheated on a subconscious level. >o;; 1 comment|post comment

heh. [01 Jan 2005|11:27pm] [ mood | apathetic ] [ music | Third Eye - Tool/Ohne Dich - DEVIN. XDDDD ] Stolen from Dev. xDDDD <3 THREE NAMES YOU GO BY: 1. Jenny 2. Eugenia 3. Idiot. xD THREE SCREEN NAMES YOU HAVE HAD: 1. thedancingvulcan 2. Human Bean 3. Some Kind of Monster THREE THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF: Ohdeargodthisishard. >>; 1. My mediator ability. xD 2. My mad aggressive tackle-glomping rugbyness. 3. My brain. o.o Or lack of. xD THREE THINGS YOU HATE ABOUT YOURSELF: 1. My apathy. But, that's a given. 2. My appearance. But, y'know, all teenage girls, regardless of how they look, have that insecurity. xD God I'm so generic. 3. My horrible writing. THREE PARTS OF YOUR HERITAGE: 1. Russian. 2. Ukrainian. 3. Other... European cultures. xD THREE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU: I'm not really scared of... much. o______O Really. So, just stuff that has a mild freaking out factor. xD 1. This one green suitcase at Tamara's house. O_O!!! 2. Playing the 'Useful Idiot' segue on Aenima while lying with my eyes closed in the dark and my back to the door. o_o 3. Scalloped potatoes. >o; Eeeww. THREE OF YOUR EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS: 1. Computer. xD 2. Music. =DDD 3. Sleep. =3 THREE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING RIGHT NOW: 1. T-shirt that Hailey-ball gave me that says '5 out of 4 people have problems understanding fractions. 2. My comfy beige cargo pants. =3 3. Undergarments. xD THREE OF YOUR FAVOURITE BANDS OR ARTISTS: 1. Tool. =O 2. A Perfect Circle. >o; 3. Cursive. THREE OF YOUR FAVOURITE SONGS AT PRESENT (THREE SONGS I DON'T HATE AT THE MOMENT): 1. Dragostia din Tei. xDDD It makes me HAPPY. 2. Anything by Tool. XDD 3. Ohne Dich as sung by Devin. xD THREE NEW THINGS YOU WANT TO TRY IN THE NEXT 12 MONTHS: 1. Fencing. 2. Sleep. xD 3. This strange thing... called... life. THREE THINGS YOU WANT IN A RELATIONSHIP (love is a given): 1. BRAINS. >>; 2. Humour. xD 3. Coolness. =3 THREE THINGS THAT APPEAL TO YOU ABOUT A PERSON: 1. Brains. xD 2. Coolness. =3 3. Uniqueness and independence. THREE THINGS YOU JUST CAN’T DO: 1. Be highly emotional. 2. Not have some quiet time every day to reflect and think. And listen to damn good music. =D 3. Not... go and... roleplay.... xD THREE OF YOUR FAVOURITE HOBBIES: 1. Roleplaying. xDDD 2. Reading/writing. 3. ART. =3 THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO REALLY BADLY RIGHT NOW: 1. Pee. 2. Roleplay with Aimee. ;_; 3. Eat the innards of certain people in R and T. xD THREE CAREERS YOU’RE CONSIDERING: 1. Author, musician, artist... that sorta thing. xD 2. Forensics... person... as a cop sorta thing. xD Or a police psychologist. 3. Linguist/etymologist. THREE PLACES YOU WANT TO GO ON VACATION: 1. Machu Picchu. 2. Antarctica. 3. The U.K. =D THREE KIDS NAMES: 1. Gabriel. xD 2. Gaylord! XDDDD 3. DORIS. >DDDD THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE: 1. Do crazy, insane things. Like get a mohawk, run around and yell stuff randomly, whatever! XDDD 2. Not waste my time taking online surveys. xD 3. Skydive. =D THREE PEOPLE WHO HAVE TO TAKE THIS QUIZ NOW OR DIE PAINFULLY: 1. YOU. >>; 2. Haileh-ball. 3. Your mom. 5 comments|post comment

whoo. [01 Jan 2005|08:50pm] [ mood | accomplished ] [ music | Orange Crush - R.E.M./ Zwitter - Rammstein ] My journal is officially prettified. Yes, it's orange. No, it's not my favourite colour. It's simply that it's based on this REM song I like... Orange Crush. xD Follow me, don't follow me I've got my spine, I've got my orange crush Collar me, don't collar me I've got my spine, I've got my orange crush We are agents of the free I've had my fun and now its time to Serve your conscience overseas (over me, not over me) Coming in fast, over me Follow me, don't follow me I've got my spine, I've got my orange crush Collar me, don't collar me I've got my spine, I've got my orange crush We are agents of the free I've had my fun and now its time to Serve your conscience overseas (over me, not over me) Coming in fast, over me High on the roof, Thin the blood, Another one on the waves tonight, Comin' in, you're home We'd circle and we'd circle and we'd circle to stop and consider and Centered on the pavement stacked up all the trucks jacked up and Our wheels in slush and orange crush in pocket and all this here county Hell any county it's just like heaven here and I was remembering and I Was just in a different county and all then this whirlybird that I Headed for I had my goggles pulled off I knew it all I knew every back Road and every truck stop. Follow me, don't follow me I've got my spine, I've got my orange crush Collar me, don't collar me I've got my spine, I've got my orange crush We are agents of the free I've had my fun and now its time to Serve your conscience overseas (over me, not over me) Coming in fast, over me High on the roof, Thin the blood, Another one on the waves tonight, Comin' in, you're home. Strange song. But good. =3 post comment

happy new year. (i'm prying open my third eye...) [01 Jan 2005|04:58pm] [ mood | alone, sad, tired, and insignificant ] [ music | Third Eye - Tool/Good Day - Dresden Dolls/Annihilation/Weak and Powerless - A Perfect Circle ] Happy new year. ( read the teenage drama queen angst of Jenny L---- typed at six in the morning... ) There's a Russian saying that says that you spend the rest of your year depending on how you celebrate the New Year. Lovely. I don't know whether I want everyone to leave me alone or whether I want people to tell me I'm not alone, I'm not insane, I'm not some sort of apathetic bitch. Or, no - I think I want people to tell me that I should fuck off and take my shitty, self-pitying words somewhere else, so I know for certain and then I can try to change myself. A lie often enough repeated, Stalin said, is a truth. And, being Russian, I'm doomed to follow the words of Stalin and the stereotypes of vodka and hand-grenades. I don't know. I just. Don't. Know. It's seven AM and I'm not even tired any more. I'm listening to Tonic, which is ridiculous. Any moment now I'll start belting out 'If you could only seeee the way she loooooves me' at the top of my longs whilst strumming my acoustic guitar and defending myself against my parents, who will yell at me and possibly give a slap or so. Haha. Lesbian Jenny. I think spending an hour on this post helped me a bit. It appeals to the chronic note-taker in my mind, I guess. Putting everything into prose makes it seem unreal and that - that helps me deal. I've never felt anything real, after all. And if I ever did, it was probably me being stupid. [note: I know this isn't updated at 7:18 AM in the morning, and that's because my mother shut off the internet in some self-righteous gesture. >>; I. Want. To. Move. Out.] post comment

these words fail. [31 Dec 2004|04:27pm] [ mood | hungry ] [ music | The Rhyme Scheme - Cursive/ My Confession - OTEP ] Ineedtomakemyjournalpretty. >>; That, and happy new year. Feed me now. >>; =starving= I think I want to write something. Or draw. However, I suck at both, so I'm just going to go mosh around tunelessly on my guitar and be generally depressed. O woe is me. I want some food. NOW. post comment

return of the dark jedi. bwahahaha. [27 Dec 2004|11:49pm] [ mood | vegetative ] [ music | Stinkfist/Eulogy/H. - TOOL ] Well, yes. I'm back, huns. Snow knocked out some internet... line thing. And now, I'm back. I have two new CDs - Mutter by Rammstein and Aenima by TOOL. I have to say, the Tool CD is worthy of being worshipped - go buy it. Seriously. You won't be disappointed. Of course, nobody reads this journal. See, I'd link myself on all the sites I'm on... but, well, I'm insecure. Yepyep. God, I'm such a total loser. T.T; Went to see Series of Unfortunate Events today. It wasn't bad, but wasn't exactly the best thing ever. The Queensway's poutine has to be the best I've ever tried, but it's ridiculously expensive. Peeves me off how they don't let you bring in your own food and then sell a bag of popcorn for 5.99. Rip-offs. >>; I really need to get out more. Did some late Christmas shopping - got a pair of earrings for one friend and a necklace for the other. Cheap. I dunno. I'm not a jewelry buff but I think the stuff I got them is pretty -- the earrings are these studs that are white and red and are shaped like spiders - sort of a gag gift. The necklace is sort of ornate and black and dark-silver... kind of cool in a gothy sort of way. Heh. On the other hand, I got my CDs for a total of $28. If I didn't have to go buy some cheap gifts, I would've gotten APC's new DVD - aMOTION. Or their new CD - eMOTIVE... but I dunno about the new CD, man. I have to say Mer de Noms was okay, but the Thirteenth Step was brilliant. Really. Beautiful dark imagery and all... but eMOTIVE is just political. Blunt and political. However, the Imagine cover is just beautiful. Haven't heard the rest of the CD, obviously, 'cause I don't have it. Or maybe a Cursive CD. Oooh. That'd be niiice - but HMV was fresh out... and... why am I ranting about CDs? Really. I think I'm gonna stop posting until I actually have something to write about. Or, I would, but then I'd abandon the journal for good and we can't have that, can we? >>; WILL SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME HOW YOU GET A CSS LAYOUT TO WORK ON YOUR LJ WHEN IT'S IN THE 'OLD STYLE'? Bathe in my stupidity. And to conclude, a few nice lyrics from Tool that seem to suit me today: Something kinda sad about the way that things have come to be. Desensitized to everything. What became of subtlety? How can it mean anything to me If I really don't feel anything at all? I'll keep digging till I feel something. I feel numb and tired and just sort of detached. Floating-above-my-own-body kinda thing. Detached. I need to rant about something - that'd make me feel a little more alive. I swear, I'm turning into a fucking vegetable. It really, really makes me angry. In case you haven't noticed. 2 comments|post comment

and you take, 'cause they give... and my body, it leaks like a sieve... [22 Dec 2004|12:54pm] [ mood | blah ] [ music | Downfall - TRUSTcompany/The Red - Chevelle ] I think I really hate this break. Really. Every year we used to do stuff... like travel or my friends'd be around and we'd all be happy and do stuff. This feels like an elongated weekend. I'm sitting here, at the computer (because there's nothing else to /do/), with bags under my eyes and a headache, looking out the window, looking at the half-assed snow we get around here. I've just turned into a vegetable or something... I can't even feel any specific emotion, I'm just sort of... taking up space. Then again, I'm always a rather un... emotional.... pig. xD Speaking of which. I'm miffed at my mom. Every time I talk with her, my weight always comes into play. Now, I'm not fat - 125, 130 pounds isn't really fat. I'm short and stocky, yeah, but that's because I'm pretty athletic so I have a lot more muscle than most people usually do, not to mention the fact that I have huge bones. My mother, on the other hand, is an inch taller than me and is so skinny that she's nearly anorexic - she fits into my old clothes, okay? She's probably 95 - 100 pounds, and she looks like a twig. I could probably snap her in half if I tried. And so, yesterday, she picks out some random photographs of me as a little kid - when I was really scrawny in that little-kid sort of way - and is all like 'Oh, look how skinny you were!' And that really, really bothers me. I just hate - /hate/ - people talking about my appearance like that. I'm happy how I look and although I won't be winning Miss America or whatever, that's not important. Beauty's only skin deep and my mother doesn't seem to recognize that - my mother, who spends half an hour putting on earrings and makeup before she drives me to school (when and if she does, anyways). My mother, with her perfectly styled hair and whatever. Then, she also bothers me about how I dress - cargoes, baggy t-shirts, t-shirts on top of longer-sleeved shirts, tanktops on top of long sleeves... random stuff that isn't really 'girly', right? Not to mention the fact that half of my stuff clashes, just 'cause I like being a public eyesore and besides, colours make me happy. What do I get from Miss Beauty Queen? "Jenny... those jeans don't really suit you. The bottoms drag on the ground and they're all frayed..." "Jenny... we need to get you new shoes... these running shoes just aren't very nice-looking..." (referring to a pair of really nice, comfortable guy's semi skating/running shoes I managed to get her to buy, after a lot of arguing) "Jenny... I really don't think that's your color..." Blah, blah BLAH. I mean hell, I'm a tomboy. I don't give a shit about my clothes on the best of days. Why should I start worrying about what's my 'colour'? Before, when I still couldn't get comfy clothes that I actually /liked/, she made me wear these ridiculously tight shirts and jeans - like, so tight I couldn't even /move/ in them. It was absolutely disgusting. And then she comments on me being 'just a titch fat...' Well, I wonder /why/ I don't want to wear your fucking tight jeans, mother. Not a lot of confidence you're giving me, eh? Not a lot of self-esteem I can get, when I can't even decide on how my room looks because you want the apartment to look like some IKEA-catalogue showroom. I hate my mom. I really, really do. >o; Don't give me the whole 'Oh, you're only saying that 'cause you're miffed... deep down, you really love her.' If I do love her, it's only by default - only because she's my mom. I really, really can't wait to move out. What's the 'minimum age'? Sixteen, isn't it? Three more years... just three more years... >o; post comment

oh please, don't barrage me with the questions to all these ugly answers. [20 Dec 2004|07:37pm] [ mood | groggy ] [ music | The Recluse - Cursive / Jaws Theme Swimming - Brand New ] Nnn. Reading over that last entry, I was like 'way to go, Jenny. It's your first post and already you've succeeded in being boring.' But then, nobody ever said that journals were good reading. 'specially mine. Nothing much happened today. I stayed up until four, fell asleep, woke up at four. How lovely. This game is exceedingly addictive. I'm currently in Islington as Trillian... And I have no idea what to do. Sigh. I should... do stuff. But I can't. Cursed lethargy. >>; post comment

the first post. of doom. because I say it is. [19 Dec 2004|11:29pm] [ mood | slightly miffed ] [ music | Disconnected - Veruca Salt/ The Great Decay - Cursive ] Sigh. Well. LJ doesn't seem to want to process my mad CSS... so... that makes me sad. AND MIFFED. And because this is my journal, I shall talk about my DAY today. Doom. Fear me, minions. Well. I woke up at ten-thirty - record earliness-iness of doom because a friend called me and asked me to hang out with her at the movies and stuff. Well, actually she asked me yesterday and stuff. Her name is Frances and she's quite a cool person, really. Good friend, but... y'know when you feel sort of pressured, kind of? That's the way it is with me and her - she considers me her best friend and I'm a little 'nyer' of that. But then, I'm not the sort of person who really... talks to people about everything and gets close to them very well. Yeah, the secretive eejit in the corner got a journal. How ridiculous is that? Well. Let's clear some things up about Frances which'll make the next bit of the entry a little... easier to read. Her mom's divorced and remarried. She's got a younger half-sister and brother, who are related to her through her mother but not her father. She's half-black; mom is English (I think. o.o) and dad's Czechk. Obviously, this makes her kind of alienated, y'know? This has no relevance except to this sentence: her full sister just recently called her from New York where she lives. Obviously, this means a lot of emotional stress. And, lucky me, I'm the kind of person who everyone asks for advice and talks about problems. I'm the unofficial shrink at school and that's a bit annoying because I don't know how to really help people or anything, but they go to me nonetheless. I don't know what to do about them, and hence the whole pressured-ness-iness. o.o Well. We talked and stuff and I comforted her and was a shrink for a while and then we went to the movies (and it's effing FREEZING today... bloody Canadian winter. -22 degrees Celsius and that was probably the highest temperature today without windchill...). Christmas With The Kranks... 'cause she likes that kind of stuff. It was funny... but it wasn't really a wonderful, lovely movie... before that we went and played Air Hockey a few times and I lost most of the time, but only by one point or so. xDD No, I'm not being a sore loser... popcorn and stuff was effing expensive and I ended up spending over half of my allowance on just two drinks and a large popcorn. E.E; Evil. After the movie, we skipped on out. And froze. To death. Well, no. Obviously, I'm still alive. But I could pretty much feel the spit on my lips freeze after I licked them, it was that cold. We hopped on a happy little bus and went off. And now I'm getting bored because accounts of my day are just... BORING. e.e; And now I am here. Trying to get my journal to be all pretty and orange and cool... BUT IT'S RESISTING. Never fear. It'll look good soon. ... hnn. I'm writing this and nobody's even reading it... Hahahahaha. So nice to be invisible. SEEE? I'M INVISIBLE. =D "And I've seen what it can do And I'm afraid it's got me too..." I think I have a New Year's Resolution, though, or several of them. draw at least one complete sketch-thing a day and use some new technique/theme/subject practice like mad on my guitar start saving up for a bass guitar write a short sketch-thing... like... 1500 to 2000 words every day. If I could do it during NaNoWriMo, I can do it now, right? Hneh. I think I should be a lot more... moral and whatnot. It is, however, eleven-fifty-two. Pee-Emm. ... thank God for break, or else I'd never survive. I need to be able to wake up at noon. Or else. I die. There should be special school times for people who are nocturnal. Like me. e.e; Jenny will stop now. For she is rambling. post comment

one small step for Jenny, one giant [backward] step for mankind. [19 Dec 2004|10:06pm] [ mood | blah ] [ music | The Rhyme Scheme - Cursive ] Hello. Bonjour. Buenos dias. ... however you want to start things off, I'm here. This may or may not be detrimental to your health... THE INCREDIBLE JENNY! not. Jenny (JEN-EE), n. - volatile, overly friendly, naive, hyper, very strange creature of unidentifiable age. SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING: May spontaneously combust. Radioactive. Moderately flammable. Loud. Annoying. Moderately corrosive. Mildly toxic. Handle with care. ... Anyways. I'll possibly get to writing an actual entry after I make this journal all pretty and nice. This will happen any time between now and the apocalypse. So there. post comment

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