a turning tide
I am left on the other side-
lovers at a great divide
cast aside-
why d'you lie
sweet, exquisite, little fallacies-
when i know that you hurt inside?
I know your pain-I shoulder this burden as well-

and why'd you say
it's just another day, nothing in my way
Confusion, fickle, infuriating, pulled close then pushed away-
i don't wanna go, i don't wanna stay
fickle fascination.
so there's nothing left to say?
Over and done.
and why'd you lie
swept up in sweet nothings, in the end, meant nothing.
when you wanna die, when you hurt inside
I hurt too.
don't know what you lie for anyway
such s w e e t little lies-
now there's nothing left to say
Because you have gone away.

a tell-tale sign
you don't know where to draw the line
You crossed it.

and why'd you say
it's just another day, nothing in my way
Making light of my misery.
i don't wanna go, i don't wanna stay
Caught in the fray-
so there's nothing left to say
Gone away.
and why'd you lie
So many lies.
when you wanna die, when you hurt inside
...I hurt too.
don't know what you lie for anyway
sweet little lies-
now there's nothing left to say
Gone away.

well for a lonely soul, you're having such a nice time
That is the illusion.
for a lonely soul, you're having such a nice time
That is the fallacy-
for a lonely soul, it seems to me that you're having such a nice time
The illusion.
you're having such a nice time
The fallacy.

for a lonely soul, you're having such a nice time
The illusion-
for a lonely soul, you're having such a nice time
the illusion-
for a lonely soul, it seems to me that you're having such a nice time
the fallacy--
you're having such a nice time
the fallacy--

GodDAMN this noise inside my head. I am embittered, restless, deprived--I do --

stupid. stupid. shit.

Gain what? Nothing? Lost what? Something I can never have.

They say I'll throw it all away I probably will. I Probably will. Pray the dawn does tarry, for I cannot face the light--the mirror, the present, my--

demons. My life.

I am craving pancakes like you would not fucking believe. Eight of them, piled on top of each other with whipped cream-And a massive, deli sandwich with all the fixings, swiss cheese, turkey, avacado. Sliced Rye bread. Maple Syrup. It pains me to know I will not allow myself to have either (because a pair of jeans that are size three currently hang in the closet.)

I ate two bowls of popcorn tonight.

Two cones of ice cream the night before.

Fuck.

"Just how damaged have I become?"

Just-

Fuck. FUCK.








I like the world better through a drunken haze of rum and cheap wine.

...And at night, when the light switches off and the shadows unfurl, with the weight of
the comforter pressing into my chest, not so comforting after all-I speak unspoken secrets, and whisper private wishes to the darkness.

And I wonder, when I allowed myself to become so empty.

When had I traded smiles, for sighs.

And dark little thought creeps into my mind.

How can you regain something you never really had?

"The shadows are Darkness. And Darkness can't talk." -Jeremy Conlin.

Cut to me. One hour lunch break. Thoughts turn to---

I am alone.

The sheer intensity snatched the air from my lungs--

And I faltered. A pain persists in my right leg, preventing me from
excercising tonight. And two people from work asked if I was okay today. I just have nothing left to give--I-

I'm breaking.

The Conqueror of Shambala: Fabulous. School: Laborious. Work: Rigorous. Sleep: Tenuous. Life: Grievous. Trinity Blood: Curious.

Twelve days passed and a day's rest from catching carts and packing provisions did not come. Essays and an exam came and went, leaving stress and strife in their wake, yet despite a lack of sleep, a monkey on her back, and a weariness in her heart the girl prevailed. An A was achieved, paychecks received and friends were treated at her insistence. She studied and stocked shelves, made pumpkin pie, homemade lasagna and chili, chocolate cream pie with meringue, and manicotti is planned for the following night. She balanced her checkbook and paid her bills, discovered the delight to be had in vegan cookies, and purchased clothes at the GAP.

Saturday was satisfying. She ordered cheese on her Subway sandwich which is a rarity, and enjoyed anime and the company of a close friend. She said the Now n' later candy she consumed tasted like childhood, and laughing at Edo's antics nearly made her choke on a piece. She felt sad for Roy and Winry. She finds Trinity Blood intriguing, and Abel Nightroad strangely similar to Tsuzuki of Yami no Matsuei.

She also ate whipped cream out of the can last night, and last week in a fit of depression, went through a half a bag of candy corn in one sitting before she came to her senses.

She bought more of said candy this afternoon and ate it while reading an Autumn issue of Martha Stewart Living. The blueberry pieces turned her tongue blue, and she still has not decided on what her Halloween costume will be, yet has planned to carve pumpkins with a few friends and bake them cookies.

She became irate when her mother nearly knocked the Alphonse figure off of her bookcase, and was angered that she ate her last yogurt cup.

She has already planned her week, centered on assignments and work schedules, meal plans, due dates, and a potential trip to dinner with the parents.

She does not want to go to bed feeling unfulfilled, but-

She knows she probably will.

Woke up this morning. Made blueberry pancakes. Ate them alone. Drank too much diet vanilla Dr. Pepper. Chewed four pieces of gum. Asked a question in math class. Scrubbed a toilet. Danced to the Rolling Stones in a convienience store. Bagged groceries. Deemed a delivery boy attractive. Watered mums. Wore a hoodie with a pink skull and a headband to match. Planned to decorate for Halloween. Craved a Snickers bar. Bought Jones soda and peaches. Skipped in a parking lot. Wished I could cook for a boy.

Cursed chipped nail polish. Drank a smoothie while shopping for bottled water in Costco. Twirled my hair. Spent thirty minutes in Barnes and Noble. Twenty minutes picking out a manga. Picked up a stuffed black cat. Ate pizza and ice cream. Played a DBZ arcade game and bought a stick on tattoo. Looked for bats at twilight. Painted my nails. Meant to study. Fell asleep on bed with said manga.

Concrete Blonde - Probably Will




They say I maybe crazy
I only say I've had my fill
They say I'll throw it all
I probably will



They'll only give you what you're taking
But lately I've been unfulfilled
They say I'll probably blow it off someday I probably will



The way they talk about each other
The way they talk about themselves
Well they could talk, talk, talk forever
And they probably will
You know they probably will



Now I'm noy really bitter
You know Im just a little chilled
They say that things can just get better
And they probably will



And they will only make us stronger
If they should try to keep us still
And we could rise and take it all
Someday We probably will



The way they talk about each other
The way you talk about yourselves
Well you can talk, talk, talk forever
And you probably will
You know you probably will

I have a keen desire all of a sudden to consume candy corn. Perhaps it is my unshakable love for the Halloween season. Which for some reason I am longing for, maybe it is due to the discovery of a recipe for pumpkin spice cookies I am eager to make. Low calorie, no less. Though I believe it is mostly because I abhor this sizzling weather-it scorches my alabaster flesh and promotes perspiration. Porcelain. I am not vain by any means, but I adore my white skin-the fact that it glows translucent in direct sunlight though from which I flee. I miss autumn; the comforting chill, daylight's early departure-languishing leaves-hues of crimson, gold, and mahogany. Ah. It does not elude me that this will be my last Halloween at home. I am excited and also apprehensive.

I have been feeling dismal lately. The restaurant where I have been working for nearly two years is going to close. Aside from the acute fear of being without a job, I am deeply concerned for my boss. I have come to love and respect her dearly, and I know it is tearing her up inside. I am heavily into hoarding my money now, yet I doubt I'll be able to avoid splurging on some candy for a hopeful trip to the movie theater on Friday to ogle Johnny Depp in the new Pirates of the Caribbean flick. Fat free candy, of course. I have given up Rockstars, sadly, as they had been spurring intense stomach spasms. Probably just an ulcer. Stress? Beh.

My week consists mostly of work, sleep, and exercise. I have a harrowing list of friends I should dial up in order to spend time with, but I find that I am too exhausted. I have been relishing in Snapple Diet Peach tea, Diet Root Beer, and the variety of fruit I entreated my Dad into purchasing. Upon seeing me chugging a glass of Diet A&W my mother pronounced that I never cease to surprise her. I derived more joy from that than she could possible understand, serving to reinforce the fact that she does not really know me. My cubby of assorted snacks is quite stuffed at the moment. I am going to work myself into exhaustion, I am aware, on my summer sabbatical no less. How disheartening. I have slowly been whittling away at working on my website, despite the urge to simply collapse once I get home. I am treating my body better, however, and it is rewarding me by keeping weight fluctuations at a minimum. Blessed be.

I am so addled by routine, and conflict-and certain turn of events. My recent failed relationship has been in my thoughts lately as I rekindled friendship with the boy, and the fact that he has expressed his desire to get back together has been eating at me. I am not willing to make the same mistake twice, and now memories of my fleeting happiness in that brief affinity are haunting me. It only serves to make me feel more alone. The one I wish to give more of myself to is out of reach, and perhaps always will be. This is all so over my head.

But-I already have an interview next Tuesday at the local grocery store for a position in the bakery and deli, which I would adore. Hopefully I will get the position. I find it sorrowful and somewhat sick that the only part of tomorrow I am looking forward to is the meals. Filling hours with distractions and obligations to distract myself from the emptiness. Currently I believe I am trying to fill it with food. I have consumed 48 ounces of Snapple today and I am craving another one.

"...because I'd follow him anywhere."

And, I meant it.

That's the scary part.

I am slowly becoming less uptight and strict about my own graphics and layouts. Slowly. But there is progress, and now I am anticipating coding for my Duo layout. I went for another run this evening, now a customary occurence, and my Dad has been joining me lately. We already have a strong bond, but I love our chats as we pass comely cottages with manicured lawns, lush gardens, and fragrant flowers. I adore the smell of gardenia. I fear I am no longer a late sleeper-I rise without hesitation by at least nine, eager for breakfast, eager to begin the day. That is, unless I have to proceed to work.

I am leary. Much to my horror and dismay, Brie was let go tonight. This both baffles and offends me, as she is my dear friend, and I trained her. Also, it leaves me uneasy, fearing that I will be next as our mannerisms are so akin. Is this suppose to serve as a warning-like a severed head crudely affixed to a stick? I wonder if she is making an example to the rest of us. It only tempts me to search for a new job. While pawing through a stack of magazines that came with our mail, I was delighted to see another addition from the Pyramid Collection-which I anticipate almost as much as Museum and Replicas. Its pages are filled with lovely home decor catering to the fantasy, macabre, gothic style. Ah, I adore it. I cannot wait to set up my residence in Chico with Brie and Bryce.

And because Bryce is so awesome, he took me down to Chico with him and while he explored the mall I was granted a few precious hours with the man I am enamored with. I cannot articulate-fear silenced my tongue, from saying three seemingly small words which so desperately wished to be uttered, as I curled up with him on his bed and stroked his hair and face, faltering, almost-giving away my secret with each feather soft kiss. I digress. It has not escaped my attention that he may already in fact know what I meant to say, clever as he is. Two hours in his presence has meant more to me than so many event-filled days in his absence.


Despite having work tomorrow, the day boasts enjoyment. Brie is coming over to spend the night and we are going to Denny's, and I plan on returning several phone calls and setting up my schedule for next week. Though I cannot help feeling as though I will be walking on eggshells when I clock in tomorrow. This tension unnerves me. I have but six months left in this town, it would be quite silly to lose my job now after being employed there nearly two years.

Speaking of leaving for six months, Stacy has decided to do just that on a house-sitting adventure with her boyfriend. I am addled. Perhaps I would only be dishearted and saddened, if she had not been cancelling our plans frequently these last few weeks and spending the majority of her time with said boyfriend. I feel disposable. She is leaving in a matter of weeks, and I feel as though I am the only one in this friendship. It does not escape my attention either that when she plans on returning-I plan on leaving. Irony. As I have said, for me baking relieves stress. Excercising helps also. The night she told me, I made banana bread. When she bailed on our weekend plans, I ran for half a mile before the tears welling in my eyes fogged my vision so acutely that I was forced to cease. They did not fall. Brie found me that evening after she got off work, as we had plans to go shopping. I was numb by then, yet since she knows me so well she sensed my agitation, as I garbed myself in a simple black tunic dress, tights, and my rosary. I later found myself toying with it as we drank Jamba Juice. Some would say I succumbed to an Emo fit, because I was bad to myself that night. I drank two rockstars too many.

But Brie consoled me as we rifled through racks of clothes, Bryce allowed me to vent as we ate licorice on the drive down to Chico, and I recieved sound advice as usual from the man I will attempt to visit in Chico again soon, through the course of several three hour phone conversations. I feel better. Somewhat. I will feel much better if Kim can arrange a brief visit to Redding in the coming week. I miss her voice and her wit, and I know there is no way I will be able to feel dismal in her presence.

Baking. sleep deprivation. Fear of an eating disorder. Sweet little lies. church. Dresses. failed plans. Rockstars all the way.


This has been my life these past threeno-four months-since I have last updated. Oy. This is going to be one of those stirring, long entries I am afraid. I have not wasted away to nothing, but lately I have been feeling like nothing. I have had many romantic entanglements in the lapse of a month, and I would dearly love to say I have learned from it yet I fear it isn't so as I am still carrying around a torch for a boy man that I know will never be extinguished. But I was in a relationship with another boy for a month before it fizzled It is a regret. [Meeting Him] The semester has finally come to a close, and I fear that through either a lack of sleep, a high degree of stress, and a low amount of protein in my diet I am two months late. Bugger. But I am going to wait it out a little longer before I go to a Doctor. I have been baking and cleaning more and more lately, if anything to take my mind off-life. I find at night after I come home from work, I long to venture out just to escape the demons waiting in a darkened bedroom-or at least invite others over, to chase them away. So often I find I whisper my secrets only to the shadows. It seems my mind and heart are sealed-nails on the coffin lid. Shut save to the ones who have already found their way in. I rarely let anyone in. I hide behind my eyes, and my hair.



Kino Makoto is once again my muse. I share her love of cooking, baking, cleaning-and obsessing over men. Though I confess I enjoy eating the cookie dough more than baking it sometimes. I have always had strange cravings, right now I desire licorice and a caramel latte, though I doubt I will get either this evening. I find as I type these words that I have missed this-sheer blogging bliss. Makoto will grace a blog layout if it kills me. And I made a new layout for my Duo site That makes me giddy. I want my life back. There is a good chance I may pull A's again this semester, and I am leery by the prospect of next fall being my last semester at Shasta before I transfer to Chico State. Heavy.



I have been having fun wearing dresses lately, as well as tunics and leggings. I adore the fusion of '70s inspired gauze dresses and gauchos and Medievel style tunics and thick belts. Bangles and '80s big hair is not disagreeable either. I have such beautiful friends as well. Stacy has gone blonde again, Sommer's baby is due in two months, and I am talking to Kim once more. I have missed her dearly.



No more than a month ago I set foot in a church and actually attended a service. It was awkward and exhilerating, enthralling and humbling all at once. The infidel among the believers. I hope some of their faith rubbed off on me. I find that I am enamored by religion, perhaps because I do not have one. I would love to attend Catholic mass, though I am afraid they would not appreciate my reverence from a scholarly, romantic point of view. I am taking a History of World Religions course next semester.



I requested two days off from work for a planned trip to the coast with my parents and Stacy, but once more my mother flaked out on me and we did not go. It will be a miracle if I am granted two more days off in a row, here's hoping. I had been longing to see the sea, feel the ocean air's embrace-perhaps on some off chance it could deliver quell me. I feel like going for a run, but I am not sure I would want to come back.



I watched Braveheart last night-how I adore that movie. I couldn't help but love the line-



"The Lord tells me he'll get me out of this mess but he's pretty sure you're fucked."

Chex Mix and a Rockstar. It's a beautiful thing. Studying a subject you despise when you'd rather be playing with your new cell phone? Beh.




I really abhor Biology. Ask Alex, he remembers me bitching about it our Sophomore year in high school. Damn. The fact that I recall that makes me feel really old.

Yes, that is correct, I actually purchased a cell phone, and the fool thing is charging in the other room. I haven't the faintest idea how to operate it, I only seek to brand it with a Lord of the Rings wallpaper and furnish it with the ringtone for the Stairway to Heaven. I adore that song.

It is at last Friday, and the only plans I have for this weekend include studying for two exams, composing another story, venturing out with my parents for dinner-and meeting a guy. A Tattoo artist's apprentice. I think sometime soon I may get a tattoo. When I marshall the courage.

The Rockstar is gone. I crave another one. I really wish I earned more money to fund my little addictions. From energy drinks, dining out, elegant clothes-and anime. I have come to accept that I, through no effort on my part, have accquired a rather fast paced lifestyle. Between work, school, studying, and attempted socializing (Which is really only plodding around with my small circle of companions) I average six hours sleep a night and chug at least two Rockstars daily. But I am writing about all of it-everyday. Did I mention I am relishing in that? My mind set has already moved on from General Education, so ready to embrace my major.

Actually, I long to get away. April has a distinct lure-the next Rocky Horror Picture Show, and a planned expedition to the coast. Stacy is going to accompany me but she might not know it yet. Is there more? Aye, this spring also boasts the annual Rennaisance festival. I find that I would also enjoy the prospect of traveling to Ashland to witness the Shakespeare festival.

But to all who care- Call me! If you would like my new number, drop me a line-via aim (Without Worth) Email (iadygreenleaf@cs.com) message, whatever, as Blondie implores---

Call me (call me) on the line
Call me, call me any, anytime
Call me (call me) my love
You can call me any day or night
Call me!

Damn, I need another Rockstar.

My favorite part of the writing process--"print."

This morning around 2 AM I finished the rough draft of my satirical essay, which at the final save was eighteen pages double spaced, thirteen single spaced--my magnum opus. I commenced work on this paper Monday, which was an in depth analysis of my reasons for becoming a writer--all the while poking fun at my high school career which inspired it.

My method of writing is odd. For days before the actual act I compose handfuls of handwritten pages in my notebook or meaningful snippets. Signs to look for when Heather is working on an essay or story are as follows:

-Array of loose leaf notebook paper filled with scarcely legible scrawl-Stacks of open reference books, a dictionary or thesaurus.

-The repetition of a particular song or presence of new and/or unusual music.

-Odd sleeping patterns, excessively scatterbrained behavior, with the possibility of forgetting what day of the week it is.

-Consumption of an odd variety of foods, such as licorice and pasta.

It is eerie how much elation I receive upon completion of a piece, usually accompanied by a satisfied swear or shout. Procrastination can often be a formidable foe, and I sometimes find myself immobilized by the magnitude of my task. Yet once I find my "groove," as I affectionately call it, I crank out page after page with terrifying fervor.

At last the week is over, I need a break! Enter Stacy and another anime marathon. Sing praise for Fridays.

It is eleven twenty one and I find myself viewing the WB Channel, when a commercial for Red Hot comes on. This is not the first instance I have seen this particular ad, but it never fails to bring a bitter smile to my face. I sit in irritation as the implication of experimentation between female friends is insinuated to incite male interest. What a vile insult to women. I hate to refute this belief, but women do not have slumber parties and pillow fights in their under garments, nor do we practice french kissing on each other. It is hilarious to me that there might be some men out there that believe this. Yet I find this commercial to be a slight to men as well--give our guys more credit. They know we don't really make out with our female friends. How ridiculous.

It is late, and it has been a long day. I had meant to read the third chapter in my Biology book, yet English homework got in the way. Yet I did get a new pair of jeans today, this is significant only because they are another size smaller. Another triumph--I passed on the dinner prepared at my home, and my mother seemed chagrined that I have given up red meat. I am so going to need a Rockstar energy drink in the morning. Ah yes, Tomorrow will be better.

Much to my elation and dismay, Brokeback Mountain was released today in theatres here. Originally, I had expected such a film to be shunned and reviled in such a conservative community, and as expected, at least three groups of people fled the theatre during the course of the movie--the reason,
a tame, highly tame by current standards--sex scene, in which only partial nudity was shown, and sex implied. It did not escape my attention that had it been a coupling of a man and a woman, said people who evacuated might have remained. I could not restrain myself from vexing a loud, "Bigot!" When two girls vexed their disgust and left. I am not regretful for it, I am proud, and yet, saddened all the same to witness such blatant ignorance and intolerance.


To my friends Stacy, Erin, Brie and her boyfriend Bryce, I apologize. My spirits were so dismal after the conclusion of this film, I could only weep and mull over my lament. The tears stung, mingled with the heavy eyeliner adorning my eyes, and there is an ache in my chest which has yet to desist. I hate that I can only weep, that there is no further action I can do to remedy such a despairing end--which
is so sorrowful--because it is true. Hate crimes claim lives daily, ignorance breeds discrimination. Forbidden to marry, forbidden to join the armed forces, subject to ridicule, revulsion--such blatant hate. I loathe myself for only being able to weep. What I would give, oh, what, to take it all away.


The Beatles said it best. All you need is love, love, love is all you need.


Such a poignant, powerful film, but it wrenched my heart, just as the Laramie Project did. When will we stop hurting each other?

I am in love with the song Rewrite from Fullmetal Alchemist. Hands down. The opening featuring it is just beautiful as well--Edward, Roy, ah, exquisite.

School resumes in about, nine hours for me, and I am not anticipating it. My routine is as follows--school, study, work, sleep. Anime in between. Yargh. When is Spring break again? It is raining here again, and I love it. I do not have much to complain about these days (until school kicks in) I am adoring my new haircut,
my friends, the fact that I am down to 150 pounds, my piercing, ah. Things are good. Wonder how long this shall last. Yet I am teeming with hope.

Even financial stress cannot bring me down. So I put twenty dollars on my credit
card for a new bra. I love it.

And hey! By February I'll have the next FMA DVD. Yeah. Things are going good.

At last! The reason why I adore Gundam Wing becomes so blindly clear! All these years I have loved it, without ever truly fathoming why--when it is so clear! It melds five of my greatest loves all together
in one beautiful, engaging, thought provoking anime!



One Politics. Two History--especially in times of war. Three Psychology.
Four Religion. Five Cute anime boys.



How grand. Forgive me, due to the fact that I am in the process of updating my Duo Maxwell website, composing thorough episode summaries, and listening to Gundam Wing music, I am nostalgic and giddy. No how many times I view Gundam Wing, I am enthralled. If I had time I would break out the DVDs.

Yargh. Work is kicking my ass. Three closing shifts in a row, two of them eight hours in length. Ick. I am not too thrilled that it is already 2006 either, I am getting old! lol and cranky in my old age I might add. Though, as exhausted as I am, I could not be prevented from working on my website. Take that fatigue! I hope to get a minor update in before college resumes on the eighteenth. Christmas went well, I was fortunate enough to have more money than I anticipated and was able to score some snazzy goods for my friends and family, and-a pair of knee high suede boots for me--Merry Christmas me! Woot. Yet I need more cash! The Fullmetal Alchemist graphic novel and DVD seven are coming out. I loathe that I always need money. But I have an hunch that is just a part of life. Fun fun.

I am considering going to bed soon, yet as I look down I realize my nail polish is chipped to hell and being the perfectionist I am, I am compelled to fix it. Damn my compulsions.