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( carpe diem? )

[07 Apr 2009|01:43am]
so it's been a while since I've let the el jay world know that I'm alive. but here I am. alive and kicking.

today is my one month anniversary with my boyfriend. his name is aaron. here is a picture for all you creepers. http://photos-h.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v2679/208/108/1532250332/n1532250332_30321599_5599871.jpg

as you will see in the picture, i'm no longer blonde. it was time to go back to brunette. i guess. idk. it's been three weeks and i'm still not quite used to it.

no other major updates. sorry this is such an impersonal post.


p.s. another picture for further creeping. and because we're kind of adoreable. http://photos-b.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v2679/208/108/1532250332/n1532250332_30316577_7195868.jpg

(1 dead poet | carpe diem? )

[03 Nov 2008|02:47am]
So instead of doing NaNoWriMo, I have decided to do ShenanoWrimo.

Instead of writing a novel or 50,000 words, I'm going write 30 short stories, all having a central theme that has yet to be decided, hopefully totaling to 50,000 words.

Thoughts? Is that cheating? I just feel like short story writing is more productive, as these could possibly be converted into short films in the future.

Anyone else want to join me on the dark side?

( carpe diem? )

[18 Oct 2008|02:33am]
Abbie still doesn't have a zombie icon.

Le sigh...

(4 dead poets | carpe diem? )

[03 Oct 2008|04:29pm]
i want a zombie icon. :(

(1 dead poet | carpe diem? )

[27 Sep 2008|03:56pm]
01) Are you currently in a serious relationship? I'll get back to you on that one...
02) What was your dream growing up? Being an Oscar winning actress.
03) What talent do you wish you had? Juggling.
04) If I bought you a drink what would it be? Coke. Obvi.
05) Favorite vegetable? Mushrooms. mmmmm.
06) What was the last book you read? Choke by Chuck Paulhaniuk.
07) What zodiac sign are you? Taurus.
08) Any Tattoos and/or Piercings? Explain where. Ears double pierced and two tattoos. One on my left hip of a sparrow and the word "infinite" down my right side.
09) Worst Habit? lying.
10) If you saw me walking down the street would you offer me a ride? of course! but I don't have a car in LA...
11) What is your favorite sport? to play? tennis. to watch? soccer.
12) Do you have a Pessimistic or Optimistic attitude? It varies. Really depends on my mood. I dream big but tend to worry.
13) What would you do if you were stuck in an elevator with me? ravage you.
14) Worst thing to ever happen to you? being assaulted last year.
15) Tell me one weird fact about you. I can touch my tongue to my nose.
16) Do you have any pets? Not at the moment.
17) What if I showed up at your house unexpectedly? I would take you out drinking.
18) What was your first impression of me? That you were quite outgoing.
19) Do you think clowns are cute or scary? scary. and weird.
20) If you could change one thing about how you look, what would it be? my thighs.
21) Would you be my crime partner or my conscience? crime partner. i am an excellent getaway driver.
22) What color eyes do you have? blue
23) Ever been arrested? nope
24) Bottle or can soda? can
25) If you won $10,000 today, what would you do with it? give it to my parents to help with tuition.
26) What's your favorite place to hang out at? my bed.
27) Do you believe in ghosts? not really.
28) Favorite thing to do in your spare time? read or watch movies.
29) Do you swear a lot? yeah...
30) Biggest pet peeve? improper grammar.
31) In one word, how would you describe yourself? silly.
32) Do you believe/appreciate romance? sometimes.
33) Favourite and least favourite food? mac n chz and grits.
34) Do you believe in God? sometimes.
35) Will you repost this so I can fill it out and do the same for you? sure!

(5 dead poets | carpe diem? )

For Erica [07 Sep 2008|03:29am]
Luckily, my mother was a damn fine pastry chef. She could make anything out of sugar, flour, and three hours, and when my bastard father left her for another man, she put to use the only marketable skill she had. We moved into the city and lived above the bakery. The kitchen in the back always smelled of sweet, baking deliciousness and would waft upstairs, leaking under the door of my bedroom. I would come downstairs on my way to school in the morning, and instead of pancakes there was tiramisu, éclairs, cupcakes, and other delights as far as the eye could see. (I’m drooling just thinking about my mother’s cooking.) Every morning I would stare at those pastries, my stomach aching for one, begging me to take one. Forget that these desserts were our livelihood, that they paid for the house and my clothes and food for my siblings. I just wanted to take four or five and eat them on the bus on the way to school and savor each bite of them. Every morning I was tempted to fulfill my desires. But mom’s tired smile on her flour spotted face was always enough of a deterrent for me to take only the paper sack with my lunch in it from the counter and go to school. And it’s not like we never had them; every year for our birthdays we each could choose one dessert from behind the glass counter in the storefront. But once a year was never enough, especially when the possibility of delicate sweetness was dangled in front of me every morning.

I never figured out how mom kept it all together, the house, the business and raising us. Of the four kids, I was the oldest. Next came Sarah and Joanie, twins who were often mistaken to be the same person, and Tucker rounded it out as the baby. Four mouths to feed, four bodies to clothe and keep healthy, four hearts to nurture, eight feet to shod, eight eyes to have checked, 128 teeth to keep from rotting, the list goes on and on. She never married again and if she had boyfriends we never saw them. She shed the role of wife and assumed the title of sole care-giver seamlessly. I was delegated the all important role of “man of the house” and did what I could to help with housework and parenting, but was probably more trouble than I was worth.

The cupcakes were what got me the most. Two dollars each with frosting in every color imaginable, and some that can really only be captured with milk, confectioners’ sugar and just the right amount of food coloring. I was more entranced by the curves of the cupcakes than I was the budding curves of the girls in my grade level. To know exactly what you want, see it in front of you day after day, taunting you with its sugary pretense, is more maddening than I could possibly describe here. So that morning, I snuck behind the counter and took one with green icing on it, so much that it leaked off of the cupcake and onto my fingers. I licked the frosting off my index finger; it had an aftertaste of mint from where I brushed my teeth that morning and the toothpaste had foamed onto my hand. I peeled back the wrapper, exposing the tender cupcake, considered what wouldn’t be bought with these two dollars, and then shoved the entire treat into my mouth. My eyes began to water. It was heaven. I sat savoring my sin for a few minutes, licking every last bit of icing from my fingers, lips, and the wrapper itself. I put the wrapper in my mouth, sucking and chewing on it, extracting every last bit of flavor I could.

But one wasn’t enough to satisfy me. I emptied my lunch sack that was sitting on the counter, relocating my peanut butter and jelly and granny smith apple to the recesses of my backpack. I shook open the bag as wide as possible, precariously checking to make sure the rustling paper hadn’t drawn any attention from anyone that may be passing by the kitchen. Trays and trays of cupcakes, in all their rainbow colors, and I with a paper sack to fill. Having known the pleasures of a green cupcake, I moved past that tray. I took a pink, two blue, a purple, and three chocolate. When the bag was full, I quickly snatched my backpack and ran out the door.
I sat on the bench that served as our bus stop and gingerly held the bulging paper bag in my lap. I bent my face closer to the opening of the bag, inhaling the aroma of the three chocolate cupcakes on top. It was intoxicating and brought a goofy smile to my face. I shielded the bag from any passersby, not wanting them to delight in even a hint of the treasure I clutched in my lap. I looked at my watch. I had left the house in such a mad rush, the bus wouldn’t be there for another ten minutes. I decided to occupy the time with a cupcake.

I took one of the chocolates from the top and lovingly unwrapped it. I relished in the fact that I would be the first and last to see the morsel’s soft brown skin, would be the only one to know its delights. I took my time on this one, licking a bit of icing from around the edges before taking a bite, leaving the cupcake diminished by half. My teeth marks left jagged scars on the cake; so harsh it was almost ugly. To hide them, I thrust the rest of the cupcake into my mouth, moving the sticky paste around my mouth with my tongue and then finally down my throat.

Still eight minutes until the bus came. This time I dug deep into the paper sack and produced a blue one. I licked all of the frosting off the top in one fluid motion, leaving only a soggy, blue tinted top. I then unwrapped it and devoured the remaining cake in three bites. Five minutes left.

I couldn’t possibly just sit here, waiting, while these cupcakes taunted me in my lap, the smell of them swimming around my head. I could catch another bus, get to school a few minutes late. I cradled the bag of cupcakes in my arms once more and walked down the block, finding a place where I could enjoy them in peace. I walked into a pizza shop, though why it was open this early, God only knows. I sat down at a table, the top of it mysteriously, yet characteristically, sticky. I placed the coveted sack on the table top, laying it down so the opening faced my chest.

I pulled another cupcake from the bag. It was pink. Not magenta. Mom hated magenta. She said of all the colors, magenta was the tackiest. This was more of a pastel pink. Baby pink. The promise of what was to come pink.

But the longer I stared at the cupcake, the more it became a fleshy pink. Something turned in my stomach at that thought, and I set the pink cupcake down on the table. I fished out the other blue cupcake from the bag, and decided to eat that one instead. I unwrapped it in the same loving manner that I had the previous three, and took a bite. I chewed the cake a few times, but something about the taste had changed. I let the lump of half-chewed food sit in my mouth, letting my saliva turn it into a gluey muck. I swallowed the bite and placed the disfigured blue cupcake next to the pink one. I picked up the pink cupcake again and looked at it, the peach of its flesh taunting me.

I unwrapped it. Crumbles clung to the wrapper like dry skin. I took a huge bite, only leaving a fourth of the cupcake in my hand.

The taste in my mouth was not of sugar and flour. I tasted flesh, my mother’s hands. The sweat and blood she had put into the cupcakes, the shop, our livelihood. I closed my teeth, feeling bone crunch between them, the marrow pooling between my cheek and gums. Blood was running down my chin and seeping from the cupcake in my hand, the gnarled teeth marks forming a joint, the pores of the cake forming crude calloused fingerprints. A fingernail scratched at the roof of my mouth, stroking my soft palate and initiating a gag reflex. I spit the gore in my mouth onto the table and dropped the cupcake that still remained in my hand.

The room around me began to swim and my stomach turned somersaults. Soon I gave in to the gagging and spewed multi-colors all over the table, all over my precious bag of remaining cupcakes. I slid out of my chair and fell to my knees, throwing up all over the floor, drenching my shirt, the vomit pooling and wetting the knees of my pants. I struggled to take in air, but the oxygen couldn’t find a way past the sick streaming past my teeth. The swirls of blues and browns and pinks and greens would almost be artistic if they didn’t reek of stomach juices. Tears leaked down my cheeks as more and more putrescence poured from my mouth; the pool around me was growing and now twelve inches thick. I willed my stomach to be empty, to be rid of the foul cupcakes, but the harder I wished the more I spewed in earnest.

The vomit had now risen to tidal proportions, floating me off my knees and leading me into a dog paddle like stroke. I tried to paddle through the clumps of cake toward the door, all the while spitting. With my next stroke I could feel a limb through the muck. I fumbled for it, grabbing it at an awkward angle. As I pulled it toward me, a head appeared a foot away. It slowly spun towards me, revealing my mother’s face, flecks of half-digested frosting replacing the flour that normally peppered her face. I sucked in my breath in horror, but took vomit into my lungs as well, scorching them and choking me. In my panic I succumbed to the sea of upchuck. The vile substance burned my eyes and nasal passages for a few moments before I was lost, and the pungent smell of my guilt overtook me.

(2 dead poets | carpe diem? )

[23 Jul 2008|02:26am]
LiveJournal Username
How familiar are you with zombies?
A zombie is moaning at your door. What do you do?
Your lover got bit. What do you do?
FOX NEWS says to stay in-doors. What do you do?
Weapon of choice...
Forms gang of scavengers . Loots the neighborhood.charlie_trum
Plays tough-guy and gets bit within the first wavethedastardfunk
The dumb zombie that walks around in circles.omann0
You find them in your basement. Then sex them.sparklygal1989
Gets intestines ripped out and screams like a girltanuki_san
Becomes a bible-thumper. Says the lord will end iticklecarriekins
Kills more zombies that you could possibly imagineblue_vase
Chance of survival
This Fun Quiz created by Tim at BlogQuiz.Net
Watch cool car videos including BMW Videos at Car-Videos.Biz

(1 dead poet | carpe diem? )

Writer's Block: Coffee Or Tea? [09 Feb 2008|12:43am]
What method do you use to prepare your coffee or tea?
well, if it's for writer's block at stumble over to the counter and beg with the nice starbucks people extra shots of espresso for free.

if it's tea, I drink mostly breakfast teas, so with milk and sugar.

hope that helps.

(2 dead poets | carpe diem? )

[19 Aug 2007|12:24am]

What The Hell Happened Last Night?
LJ Username
What did you drink?
You wake up in the morning next to: charlie_trum
...who is wearing: lipstick and mascara
...and rolls over to you to say: Wanna do that thing with the broccolli again?
...and then: chloroforms you
This quiz by joneccleston - Taken 769 Times.
New - COOL Dating Tips and Romance Advice!

hahahahaha. charlie.

so, i'm in california. last night I was in the dorm all by myself, which was pretty weird and kind of scary, but now there are two RAs on the hall with me. so ya know, if i get pinned under a dresser or something, I can call for help.

colorguard is a lot harder that I thought. and I'm incredibly sore.

i don't really have much to say, i really wanted to just post the quiz. :)

(6 dead poets | carpe diem? )

[30 Jul 2007|05:05am]
god damn. i have to be at work in four hours.

so i'm getting a tattoo this week. probably on wednesday. and it's going to be this:


without the copyright symbol of course. i'm going to get it on my back, but I'm still figuring out the exact placing.

what do you think?

( carpe diem? )

[25 Jul 2007|06:00pm]
I kind of like my sporadic posts. It keeps everyone wondering if I'm dead or alive.

Let's see. What's been going on.

Went to orientation. It mutated me into a freak who can only talk about USC. It's a sickness.

Aaron and I are pseudo-dating. I don't know what we're doing. But he's sweet and I like it. So that's all that matters.

I think I may be a smoker now. Should I call the housing department so they can get me a smoker roomate? Would they have to inform my parents then? Hmmm. idk.

I've become a little too addicted to Sex and the City. And it's making me cynical. I think I'm a Miranda.

I guess that's it. I leave for school on the 16th. I guess I should get plane tickets. In the meantime, I'm just working and trying to pack up my life. Sigh. depressing.

Oh. And I loved Deathly Hallows.

(4 dead poets | carpe diem? )

[04 Jun 2007|09:00pm]

okay cherrywindex, here's a european post just for you. and I will tell you that using an Italian keyboard is not te easiest thing in the world. 

so, Spain was amazing. Madrid was fun, it involved a lot of museums, but Barcelona was beautiful. we spent the first day at the pier, shopping at the stalls along the water and venturing into the aquarium, which was awesome. I'll post picture on Facebook when I get back and you can see what I mean. 

the weather was gorgeous, it was sunny, I got a bit of a tan, and it was a nice refresher after days inside museums. 

one museum we did go to however was entirely Picasso, which was really pretty amazing. It went from his earliest sketches to his last works. You really got to see his development and, surprisingly, he was an amazing portraiteur before he started drawing people's faces all sideways and garbled. what was also cool was you saw the influence of van gough and tolousse-latrec in his work when he saw their art in Paris as well as his dablences in cubism. all in all it was a very enlightening and rewarding museum. 

okay, well I only have 30 minutes on this card, probably only 25 by now, and a facebook still to check! 

Trip To This Point: Madrid, Toledo, Barcelona, Milan, and currently in Florence. Or Firenze as they call it here. 

(In Zurich, where we stopped over on our flight to Madrid, Corey and I deciced that the English language does not utilize the letter "z" as often as it should. To rectify this, I think I'm going to start saying zebra in all of my posts from now on.)

We head to Vienna in a few days, where our itenirary consists of laundry, eating at a delicious cafe we discovered when we were there last time, eating goulash soup, and checking email. So I'm sure I will post again in a few days. 


(3 dead poets | carpe diem? )

[30 Apr 2007|01:22am]
[ mood | pensive ]

hmmmm. it's been forever since I've updated. Again.

I've been anxious lately. Antsy. Nervous. How many synonyms can I come up with?

I keep telling Andrew that he can't let himself question himself, yet I find myself wondering If I've made the right decision with USC. I know I have, but at the same time I never thought it would happen. 26 people. holy fuck. Did they admit me by mistake? Am I supposed to be someone else? Will they realize in June and I'll come home to a message on my amchine saying they've made a mistake? These irrational fears, and yes I'm know I'm being crazy, are what occupy much to much of my time.

It has reached the point where I have become afraid to go to sleep. I'm so terrifed that I won't wake up and will oversleep and lose credit and not be able to graduate.

So in short, I have been even more neurotic than usual lately. And I try and be supportive to Andrew, because he is so supportive to me, but his problems and my problems may just be more than I can handle. idk. I just want to be in Prague. That will mean that my life is really starting.

This is my last issue for newspaper. My 38th. Holy cow. I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do without it next year. Even now, most of my friends are centered there, and I hardly go through a day without thinking about things that need to be done for it at least once.

I don't know if I should go to Prom or not. Maybe I should go to just APE. Idk. I've been to APE before, and it was fun, but Bright Eyes is the next day, and I don't want to be exhausted for that. Speaking of Bright Eyes, Cassadega is AMAZING.If you haven't purchased it, I suggest you do so immediately. At least download it.

Wow, this is the longest entry I've written in a good long while. I guess I had more to say than I thought I did.

(4 dead poets | carpe diem? )

[12 Apr 2007|12:32am]
So um. Someone reported me to the el jay police that I was neglected to tell the world about my life.

I'm still alive, for those who were wondering, just haven't had a lot to say.

Here are the highlights:

I'm going to USC in the fall and majoring in Writing for Cinema/Television.

My mother does not approve of my decision.

My grandmother is staying at my house until graduation.

I'm going to see Bright Eyes on the 13th.

Cassadega(sp?) is amazing.

I feel more and more every day that I'm unable to face the world, though I thought I had been ready for four years.

(4 dead poets | carpe diem? )

[12 Feb 2007|03:15pm]
hey look! new hair!


my face is awful, i know. I had a nice photoshopped version to share, but photobucket doesn't like that version, so instead we have this. yeah.

anyway. that's what i look like now.

(1 dead poet | carpe diem? )

[05 Feb 2007|03:36am]
Fuck wank bugger shitting arse head in a hole!

(5 dead poets | carpe diem? )

[04 Feb 2007|10:25pm]
my gosh, I haven't updated in forever!

I'm avoiding Stat homework at the moment. And reading Hamlet. And my HOSA books.

I watched a Hilary Duff movie today and it made me tear up. I have problems.

I want to read Equus so bad. And not just because of this:

I promise.

Kind of.

(2 dead poets | carpe diem? )

[18 Jan 2007|05:00pm]
So, um. Ali and I rock. We're going to be a million dollar writing team.

That's pretty much it.

(2 dead poets | carpe diem? )

[01 Jan 2007|12:20pm]
Hello 2007. You're looking mighty fine.

I'll probably hate you in a week, but for now we can be friends.


Last night.

Three words: Everclear and prom dresses.

I'll let you make your own assumptions.

( carpe diem? )

[16 Dec 2006|08:42pm]
On the twelfth day of Christmas, monascreams sent to me...
Twelve photographs singing
Eleven ramones writing
Ten dreamers a-flying
Nine books acting
Eight soundtracks a-screenwriting
Seven bookstores a-sleeping
Six massages a-kissing
Five asi-i-i-ian boys
Four stolen bracelets
Three disney movies
Two mix cds
...and a maccaroni in a cinematography.
Get your own Twelve Days:

my parents are watching Santa Clause. Sometimes I hate December.

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