tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42505435586507978252023-11-15T22:07:42.396-08:00Conviction of the HeartLisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03626902643451324840noreply@blogger.comBlogger55125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250543558650797825.post-59305750229416715492009-02-09T19:29:00.000-08:002009-02-09T21:15:01.071-08:00& we've shared some times, I wouldnt trade for the worldIt has been awhile since I've sat down to write in here. Life has been pretty hectic, but not in a bad way.<br /><br />With two weeks until my 18th birthday and less then five months until I graduate, I feel the need to recognize just a few of the people in my life currently. These people make me crazy and half the time I wonder why I'm stuck with them. But, the other half of the time, I couldnt possibly feel more blessed to be badgered by these lunatics I call my friends. These unusual people are the reason my life is what it is, and in spite of the difficulties, I wouldnt trade it in for any other. <br /><br /><br />Since, I'm fairly certain none of them read this, I have no problem recognizing them here. Whats the point you ask? Well, one day, years after I stop writing in this, I'll go back and read through these posts and remember the people in my life and why I kept them so close.<br /><br />Well, the first person who stands out in my head is my "bestest enemy." Though we coined the term in sixth grade, it has never lost its validity. And, I doubt it ever will. Everything important that has happened to me over the past 7 years, she has been a part of in some twisted way or another. Every last stupid thing I've done, I've done with this moron. Every cut or bruise I've acquired has been her fault and if I get in trouble, she is standing right next to me getting yelled at too. We have done some of the stupidest stuff together and I'm sure one day it will be funny. Actually, its pretty damn funny now. We talk about the future all the time--about going to jail together, living in the bum house together, sitting on our front porch with shine and shotguns together. I know there is no guarantee that any of this will actually happen. (Mostly because I'll be shocked if we dont kill each other long before that.) Nonetheless, these past years have been...an adventure, to say the least. Whether we live to see ourselves old and crotchety or not, I'm sure we have many more dumb ideas ahead, if only to top the ones we've already got underway. So, Lishy Duh, raise an unexpected glass to Flo (and all of the "incidents"), all of our first times, all of our walks (even the one in the blizzard), New Zealand, photo shoots, and us; whatever we are. You are the one thing in my life that is allowed to not have a definition. Mostly, because Webster himself could not define this. (If you ever actually read this I'll have to kill myself...or you. Definitely you.)<br /><br />Ah, boy. My dear pain in the ass. Never have I ever had a friend more frustrating than him. Of course, he may have a few redeeming qualities. (Though, none come to me at the moment!) In all seriousness, I love the fact that the two of us can just call each other and do nothing but rant, or sit at my kitchen table and plot out everyone's demise. We are better than everyone, it's quite the responsibility, we know, but we live with it. It's a blessing and a curse really. Philip, my love, raise an unexpected glass to cooking dinner, our exclusive and excellent parties in the bum house, Jeopardy, Cash Cab, hating Alicia (and on rare occasion loving Alicia), killing that ugly kid, and driving each other crazy...which we undoubtedly do at least once a day. And by the by, the front seat is mine whether you like it or not.<br /><br />Whoever thought you and I would be friends? My freshman year we found each other...ready for it?....CANTANKEROUS! lol Four years later, I'm shoving you out my front door because we're disgusted at how similar our minds are....not to mention our childish sense of humor. We've bonded over some prettttty strange things, but, in the words of Brendan, "it's all good." Leah, please for the love of god, raise an unexpected glass to butt-fu, long sad car rides to nowhere, long happy car rides to...nowhere, the greatest writer of the twenty-first century, the disappearing horizon, the breathing ocean, the non-virgin pound it, and finally having friends who dont suck! lol, well at least a friend who doesnt suck.<br /><br />You. I dont know what to say about you, but I know that you deserve to be recognized here. We are undefined. We are...inappropriate. I am horribly confused and befuddled by the whole situation, but somehow...I'm okay with that. This person and myself have known each other for quite a while, but only recently have we become this close. He is one of the most extraodinary people I have ever met and even though I try to convince myself that its all a bit of silliness, I know that I genuinely care about him. I've never met anyone who makes me smile more or feel less broken than he does. He is... surprisingly difficult to talk about here. I keep typing things and then deleting them. I think this is because my vocabulary can not possibly explain how amazing I think he is. If I can accomplish anything in my life, I want to help him realize how wonderful, impactful, and beautiful he really is. Raise an unexpected glass to questions and answers, boundaries...or not, to finding people who make things okay, to the promise of the bum house, and to the "L" word. The whole concept, of which, is kind of scary. But it's kind of exciting as well. =]<br /><br />There are so many more people I can write about here. Lora, Emily, Android...hundreds more. But, I am kind of sleepy and will write about them another day, I'm sure.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">"I've got some friends, some that I hardly know. But we've had sometimes, I wouldnt trade for the world. We chase these days down with talks of places where we will go."<br /></div>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03626902643451324840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250543558650797825.post-49360183572775205512009-01-04T17:03:00.001-08:002009-01-04T17:03:26.774-08:00It's Chaos, Clocks and WatermelonsAbout a year ago I watched “I’m Not There,” a movie inspired by Bob Dylan’s music and in many ways his life. At the end of the movie the people I was with got up, exclaimed “good movie” and that was that. I sat there…and I just cried. Someone asked me why I was crying and I didn’t really have an answer. Up until that point I was only vaguely familiar with Dylan. I knew some of his songs and the basics of his life but I had yet to really experience Dylan.<br />After watching, though, what choice did I have? I really got into his music after that. He’s been my favorite singer ever since. But its amazing how we forget the way things start, isn’t it? We just forget the way things are born and never really remember until they die or are reborn. Tonight I watched the movie again. The last two scenes were the scenes that made me cry the first time…and the same two made me cry this time. This time, I knew why. “It’s chaos, clocks and watermelons…it’s everything.”<br />The way I experienced Dylan was to experience my own life. Of course, I have no way of knowing what his message really is because even if I got the chance to ask him he wouldn’t answer me. Maybe that’s because he doesn’t know…or maybe he does and just doesn’t think I deserve to know unless I can figure it the fuck out on my own. Anyway, what my own life has taught me and what Dylan’s music reminds me is that we can fight things or accept them--we can stand up or back down…it doesn’t really matter as long as you’re aware. For an aware person life can really blow. Its easy to meander through life, brainless, thoughtless…you’ll never be alone, but you’ll never be aware either. To be aware, frequently means to be alone. But it also means to reap everything out of life. The flowers blossom differently when you are aware. The snow ceases to fall gently when you are aware. Colors are even more vibrant. Its this insane ecstasy, to be aware…just as beautiful and just as addictive. The Aware taste and crave more and more of this cognizant life and turn to things like drugs and poetry. Drugs and poetry are nothing more or less than the embodiment of artificial life. But when life isn’t enough or when being aware seems to lose its high, than what choice do you have but to turn to art and hallucinogens?<br />Artists go mad, philosophers kill themselves. Is this a lack of life? Or an overdose? How do we maintain life without over or under indulging? …Is that even possible?!<br />“If you’re missing me one place, search another.” Well, I’m sure one day I’ll wind up where the rest of them are. I’ll be just as old, just as tired and just as burned out. But, is it not, after all, better to burn out than to fade away?<br />I guess all things end…at the beginning.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03626902643451324840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250543558650797825.post-73280796812768301632008-12-24T10:51:00.000-08:002008-12-24T11:22:57.697-08:00Render a guess: Our need to createI've recently discovered Oliver Sachs. About a month ago my physics teacher told me what with my love for reading and my secret passion for neuroscience I should pick up a book by Oliver Sachs. Well a lack of money prevented me from buying a book. However, in psych our teacher had us watch Awakenings, an adaptation of one his books. This movie was remarkable. Well, I went back to talk to Mr. Dempsey, my physics teacher, about it and he told me about a man who after undergoing some trauma had an intense need to paint. Now that is what he does...all of the time. He paints, he creates. Well, by some freak coincidence I went home and turned on the Science Channel to The Secret Life of the Brain which was an episode on that very same guy. Well, I've always had a secret passion for neuroscience but now its even more prominent.<br /><br />So, why am I writing about it? Because I want to write about people and their scientific need to create. Cool, huh? I'm not sure what form this writing will take. A poem, a short story...maybe even one day a novel, but I will write about it.<br /><br />Maslows Hieracrchy of Human Needs says that our first needs are our physicological needs. Feed ourselves, hyrdate ourselves. After that we move on to safety; this is why we have shelter. Beyond that is our sense of belonging. For this, we make friends and have families. Then comes our esteem, this is how we fit in our lives according to ourselves and other. Lastly, when all of these other requirements are met, we create. But when our brains are altered by some outside force our needs, our requirements are reordered. Lighting, injury, surgery all influence our priorities. And the best part? Scientists dont even know why.<br />...but artists can guess.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03626902643451324840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250543558650797825.post-72483666650746490942008-12-06T09:57:00.000-08:002008-12-06T10:03:13.874-08:00Best foot forwardThis weekend has been pretty awful. At one point, I escaped from my house in attempt to find some peaceful solitude. I was going to write, but decided I didnt want to taint my notebook with negativity. So instead, I just sat by the creek and cried. I felt much better afterwards, but then I had to go home. That was a mistake. *sigh* I never thought I would look forward to a Monday! Nevertheless, I can't wait...<br /> There is no point in this ramble today other than I just wanted to type something. I could explain away my weekend, but I've been trying not to reflect too hard on all that...badness. I know who I am. Thats good enough for me. So, best foot forward!Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03626902643451324840noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250543558650797825.post-76675323434895341192008-11-19T21:41:00.000-08:002008-11-19T22:16:23.224-08:00A bedtime story...<span style="font-size:100%;">So I was talking to a friend who requested a bedtime story. The guidelines were simple. It had to involve the consumption of glue. I kind of liked what I came up with and wanted to put it someplace I wouldn't lose it. So I'll display it here for all the world to see! (Please keep in mind that it is a rough, informal draft that was really only intended as a joke and sent via AIM. ...</span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" >There aren't even paragraphs</span><span style="font-size:100%;">! lol)<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: rgb(12, 68, 101);font-family:Eurostile;font-size:130%;" >Lily awoke to the sound of someone crying. Though she was merely five, she was brave and ventured off to her mommys room in spite of any monsters that could be curiously lurking in the dark. "Mama?" She whispered. In response all she heard was the gentle snoring of her mother. Befuddled by what she thought she heard, she sleepily sauntered back to her room. Just as she was about to crawl into her big girl bed, she heard it again. She glared around the room, but saw no one. Even the bold Lilly was becoming frightened. <i>Tap, tap!</i></span><span style="color: rgb(12, 68, 101);font-family:Eurostile;font-size:130%;" > The sound came from her window, but when she went over to check, no one was there. She opened the window and cried out, "helloooo?" There was silence for a moment and then, "It appears a star is broken." Lily could not see the speaker and was just about to run to her mother when she heard the voice again, " I didn't mean to frighten you. See, the star is wayyyyyy up in the sky and asked me to ask you for help." Lily stared out the window. "But you're a tree!" She said, "And trees dont talk!" The tree was offended. "Little girl, not only do we talk but we compose music, write poetry! We are a most sophisticated lot!" Lily did not know what sophisticated meant, but she did know what music and poetry were, and she was rather certain she had never read a poem written by a tree. "Trees dont write poems!" "Oh they dont?" The tree snarled, "Ahem! 'I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as a tree!' Who, but a tree, would write such a thing, hm?" "Oh," Lily said. She went on, "what's wrong with the star?" The tree remembering why he got the girls attention in the first place said, "Oh yes! I nearly forgot. You see there is a star up in the sky--right over there--she's broken a point and needs help fixing it. You dont suppose you could help?" Lily pondered deeply. What could she possibly do? "I know!" She exclaimed, "I'll be right back! Dont you move a....twig." </span><span style="color: rgb(12, 68, 101);font-family:Eurostile;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-size:130%;">Moments later Lily returned with a bottle of Elmers glitter glue she had used on a project for Kindergarten. "Will you lift me up to the sky, Mr. Maple?" The tree outstretched his long branches into the girls window and she cautiously climbed on. In no time, the tree lifted Lily up through the sky all the way to the still sobbing star. "He--llo" Lily said timidly. Afterall, she had never spoken to a star. "Will you help me?" was the stars only response. "Oh of course! Now open wide. I've got some medicine for you." The star obeyed and opened its mouth and let Lily pour in the glue. She then wiggled the star around until its point went back into place. "Better?" she asked. The star was over-joyed. "Oh yes, much better!" With that, the star leaned in and kissed little Lily. "You looked out for me and now I'll always look after you." The tree brought back little Lily to her room, where she dose off into a sound sleep.<br />As the years went by she soon forgot that night, but whenever she stared out her window there was always one star, shining brighter and more perfectly than the rest right above her.</span><br /></span>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03626902643451324840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250543558650797825.post-888474768547931712008-11-09T18:17:00.000-08:002008-11-19T22:18:51.594-08:00Foreign (ugly) feelingsI have so many thoughts I want to write down, but not sure I can post them. Typically, I'd type away and thoughtlessly post. However, something, for some reason or another, is stopping me. I only hope that this isnt a sign that I'm growing up. If this is a sign--if my attaining some sort of fear of what people think is a sign--than I dont want to grow up. I'd much rather be a child, willing to lend myself to the world, not caring if <span style="font-weight: bold;">I</span> am accepted or rejected.<br />Today I feel uncertain of myself. This isnt something I typically feel. I dont like it one bit and hope this foreign feeling isnt here to stay.<br /><br />**update later on**<br />It was only a moment. In fact, in the end I wound up feeling better than I did to start with. Isnt life strange sometimes?Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03626902643451324840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250543558650797825.post-9056718116602986682008-10-27T17:06:00.000-07:002008-10-27T20:44:49.371-07:00I am borrowed for the sky"It'll go by quick," Mr. Rosen said to us on our first day of ninth grade. I remember not believing him. I remember sitting there thinking to myself I want out of high school and I want out now.<br />A year after, I sat in Mr. Gozick's tenth grade honors English and listened to him say,"Dont spend your days waiting for other days." Though I thought this was a beautiful thing to say, I dont think I fully understood it's value.<br />Four years later, I begrudgingly admit, that they were both correct.<br />Today, Oct 27th of my senior year, I was sitting in my lab assistant class with Mr. Gozick. I listened to this man lecture his tenth grade comp class. He said essentially the same thing to them that he did to me years ago. Then he said, "You probably don't understand this now, but you will. Experience allows for appreciation."<br /><br />My senior year. I'll be eighteen in a few months, and graduating high school only a few short months after that. I've been waiting and waiting for that day ever since fifth grade. I'm closer than I've ever been and I could not possibly be more excited. However, looking back, I'm doing something I haven't done up until this point. I'm appreciating everything I've experienced these past almost-four years.<br />I would not describe my high school adventure as easy, nor difficult. The years have been divided into categories of good and bad, and though some were difficult at the time, in retrospect each year and each experience aided me in ways I could not begin to understand back then. High school, or rather life in general, has offered me beauty without expecting anything in return. My life has led me to incredible people who have taught me ideas I will carry with me forever. My life has led me to understanding and accepting things that are different from myself. Because of this and so much more, I regret not a single day of my life or even my dreaded high school episode.<br />I owe all of what I've become to the people I've met along the way. Teachers, the man in the bookstore, and friends--true friends, I am forever indebted to you. Though most of you will never read this, or even really know it exists, I feel the need to thank you publicly. I offer my greatest appreciation to you someplace where everyone may see just what you have done for me. Thank you. My love to you all.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">My Word Sketch</span></span><br />The other day, I was speaking with a friend. He said (though this is out of context), "the act of reaching the sky." I realized there was no single English word for this and was saddened by the thought. I then went on to think of what reaching the sky would feel like exactly. This is what I came up with:<br /><br />Ascension feels like...<br /><br />Tempest-tossed tummies<br />striding up stairs.<br />Crescendo past the stars<br />into the cloud bazaar.<br />Blood, bones, body stay in place.<br />Your skin waits to be filled.<br />Breathe in someone else's body.<br />The earth releases you; You<br />are borrowed for the sky.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">I think this year, I've managed to reach the sky.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZSwkTM8WM05w4fFc-XDf5sGrof4ToOR1PY4oyA6pZ0dHz1lg2UDLdpck5zRZ_dH6C617HXEZLqcEToOBCYMIUrg3MZXNSpPcQP1Kf5Pgl5Iw3ChIy4KmpyMS6YypSE1S_5oinTNR3rsA/s1600-h/FLY!.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZSwkTM8WM05w4fFc-XDf5sGrof4ToOR1PY4oyA6pZ0dHz1lg2UDLdpck5zRZ_dH6C617HXEZLqcEToOBCYMIUrg3MZXNSpPcQP1Kf5Pgl5Iw3ChIy4KmpyMS6YypSE1S_5oinTNR3rsA/s320/FLY!.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262043388596378642" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">The photo is of me. Flying in New Zealand.</span>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03626902643451324840noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250543558650797825.post-90093033638750132682008-10-04T22:42:00.001-07:002008-11-19T22:23:26.035-08:00Six Secrets...Apparently, there is this marvelous thing going around. You get tagged and you have to post six secrets about yourself. Hm..<br /><br />1) I think I may love a guy who is 9 years older than me.<br /><br />2) Most details about me, are lies. "I read that book!" ...no I didnt. I read the back cover and decided it sounded like crap.<br /><br />3) I made out with a friends ex-boyfriend months ago and still havent told her. Nor do I intend to.<br /><br />4) I always have different intentions than other people, and let people assume we want the same things.<br /><br />5) To an onlooker, I seem to have it pretty together...I dont, but kind of enjoy it that way. I'd never want to have things truly "together." I think it would get very boring, very quickly!<br /><br />6) This isnt so much a secret as it is a fact: I love answering questions. I love sharing secrets with people and connecting with them. So if you really want to know something... Ask!Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03626902643451324840noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250543558650797825.post-89400141577848612972008-10-01T17:29:00.000-07:002008-10-01T17:48:54.040-07:00You know those days when you get the mean reds...<span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);">I've got the mean reds. I'd explain it, but I don't think it's something you can really explain.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);"><a style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);" title="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000030/" href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000030/"><b><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 255);font-family:Eurostile;font-size:85%;" >Holly Golightly</span></b></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-family:Eurostile;font-size:85%;" >: You know those days when you get the mean reds?<br /><b><a title="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000577/" href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000577/">Paul Varjak</a></b></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-family:Eurostile;font-size:85%;" >: The mean reds, you mean like the blues?<br /><b><a title="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000030/" href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000030/">Holly Golightly</a></b></span><span style="color: rgb(12, 68, 101);font-family:Eurostile;font-size:85%;" ><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);">: No. The blues are because you're getting fat and maybe it's been raining too long, you're just sad that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" >I think that feeling of "being afraid" is really your subconscious knocking at the front door. It's that silly little notion you tucked away to be "thought about later." Only, it doesnt want to be thought about later, it wants to be thought about now! But you're trying much too hard to forget, so instead of remembering it, you become afraid of it. It haunts you saying 'think of me; remember me." But you wont...or at least, you dont. Because to remember it would mean that you would have to deal with it or risk knowing yourself to be a coward.</span><br /></span></span></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);">Today, I've got the mean reds. =/</span></span><br /><span><span style="color: rgb(12, 68, 101);font-family:Eurostile;font-size:85%;" ><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></span></span></span></div>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03626902643451324840noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250543558650797825.post-51356814253431849102008-09-21T18:44:00.001-07:002008-09-21T18:48:17.744-07:00She's so busy being free...Hi old friend.<br /><br />No, I havent forgotten about you.<br />I've just been too busy, I'm afraid.<br />Good things mostly, though today was not so great.<br />I'll be back soon I promise.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03626902643451324840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250543558650797825.post-3544961987908303372008-07-15T19:13:00.000-07:002008-07-30T18:56:16.145-07:00Waiting<b><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000608/">Del Knox</a></b>:Piece of advice: you can lose your money. You can spend it - all of it. Maybe work hard, get it all back. But if you waste your time, you're never gonna get it back.<br /><br />Certain forms of waiting are necessary. For example, in a "civilized society" we wait for the light to turn green before we go, we wait in line without cutting, we wait for our numbers to be called at the deli counter. Now these forms of waiting are beneficial to us because they prevent chaos. But what about the other type of waiting? The type of waiting that prevents anything from ever getting done. This form is in fact, detrimental to our society.<br /> The type of waiting I'm talking about is clearly demonstrated in <span style="font-style: italic;">Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban</span>. Towards the end, Harry, by means of time travel, is watching Sirius Black and himself die. He refuses to act out against the dementors-the source that is killing them- because his dad will come and save them. Hermione says to the onlooking Harry, "No one's coming." Shortly after this, Harry summons the power in himself and casts the Petronas charm. Now what would have happened if Harry, instead of casting the charm himself, had waited for his dad to come and saved Sirius and Harry? They would have died.<br /> Waiting for people is a dangerous habit. Whether its waiting for your husband to stop beating you, or waiting for someone to join in the fun, or waiting for someone to say their sorry, you're going to be waiting a long time. Time is very precious when you're only alive for such a short amount of it. Every moment better be enjoyed.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03626902643451324840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250543558650797825.post-1325455231421250682008-07-08T20:08:00.000-07:002008-07-08T20:12:24.656-07:00So close and yet so far...I'm going to be a senior this year. Soon I will leave. I cannot wait to leave. =]<br /><br />I hope to go to a school far far away and learn EVERYTHING they have to teach me AND MORE!<br /><br />I hope to take that wonderful knowledge and travel the world and help people with REAL needs.<br />Not people with self-inflicted diseases like part-time alcoholism and "gee, I've smoked for 50 years, why do I have emphysema?!" But people with actual needs. Like starving children or homeless people or people in need of an education so they can better themselves or SOMETHING!<br /><br />Patience is a virtue...so are honest attempts. I'm trying to be patient...I promise!!! =/Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03626902643451324840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250543558650797825.post-32550750641030353502008-04-27T14:47:00.000-07:002008-04-27T14:56:02.966-07:00And when we find what we're looking for...<span style="font-weight: bold;">we'll drop these bags and search no more</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">'Cause it's gonna feel like heaven when we're home.</span><br /><br /><br /><br />I dont really have much to say today, I just felt like posting. I'm in a very good mood, though very tired! Friday night I spent with old friends and Saturday night with new friends. It turns out, I can have both. =] AND, today I am spending by myself. All together, I think it has been a most enjoyable week end.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03626902643451324840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250543558650797825.post-81913545222363622122008-04-21T15:57:00.000-07:002008-04-21T19:16:46.227-07:00"& I thank the lord for the people I have found"I have something very important to post, but it isn't finished. So I will explain now and in several days or weeks or whatever, when it is finished, I will post it...just for you ;]<br /><br />So, if you read my earlier blogs from this year you will begin to pick up on a theme. This theme is about abandonment, I suppose. Though now that word seems very harsh. Well, long story short-- my two closest friends found..distractions. I was heart broken and couldnt cope at all! Essentially, I thought it was the end of the world. Well, my friends havent exactly come back to me. But they're trying and I appreciate that. I also appreciate new friends. Sometimes I think people unintentionally fix things. Sometimes people unintentionally fix people. I'm fortunate to be one of those fixed people.<br /><br />Thats it for now...I'll write more later<br /><br />{Later} Tonight, I went for a drive with Emily. We ventured down lost road(best name for a street ever) and I realized I'm not all that lost, though I may be running on empty =] "Running on empty, running blind. Running into the sun, but I'm running behind." --Jackson Browne put it more perfectly than I ever could. "I dont know where I'm running, I'm just running on." It's very true. And its very okay, because I'm okay. I'm not great, but I'm not bad either. I'm just okay. And what I've learned is that sometimes, its okay to just be okay.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03626902643451324840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250543558650797825.post-1765931636242649522008-03-30T19:41:00.000-07:002008-11-19T22:26:08.905-08:00Emergency Champagne Glasses<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.pattispartyweb.com/images/champagneccc5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 95px; height: 163px;" src="http://www.pattispartyweb.com/images/champagneccc5.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /> <span style="font-size:85%;"> <span id="ctl00_cpMain_BulletinRead_ltl_body">I just wanted to let the world know that I had the best spring break ever and while part of me is happy to be going back to school, I kind of wish it wasnt ending =]<br /><br />So lets raise another emergency champagne to old friends and new friends and in between friends. To never seeing the end of pulp fiction and walks to the evil lake. To still never seeing the end of pulp fiction Jack puking everywhere. To the breathing ocean and butt-fu. To the jacket store and long awaited dates. To 2 hour long conversations in the cold and only 4 beers. To motherfucking brownies and to Dayna's boobs. To sleeping all day. To actually doing homework and long drives in random fields.<br /><br /><br />Raise an unexpected glass to spring break, the week after, Taylor Mali and Tony Hoagland. My Junior year has taken an unexpected turn for the better.</span></span>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03626902643451324840noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250543558650797825.post-58519863472404877432008-03-30T11:30:00.000-07:002008-03-30T11:42:14.275-07:00The Beginnings of My Bucket ListFor Christmas Hez gave me 2,001 Things to Do Before You Die. I decided to take the things I actually want to do and write them down...where better than here? So here are the first things on my list from the book. Later on, I'll add my own things. =]<br /><br /><ul><li>Be an extra in a movie</li><li>see the aurora borealis from Denali</li><li>donate body parts</li><li>rent an apartment on the seine for two months</li><li>learn what spelunking is and do it</li><li>have multiple orgasms</li><li>drink a mint julep at the Kentucky Derby (and wear a killer hat)</li><li>pay for the next car at a toll booth</li><li>make a religious pilgrimage-to Mecca, Santiago de Compostela, Jerusalem, or Graceland</li><li>hang glide</li><li>shake hands with someone famous</li><li>light a candle in the Holocaust memorial museum's hall of Rememberance</li><li>blow smoke rings</li><li>be able to explain the theory of relativity</li><li>get a professional makeover</li><li>suddenly decide on and leave for a trip</li><li>crash a ritzy party</li><li>give someone a reason to believe in god even if you dont</li><li>swim in the Icelandic hot springs at sundown</li><li>communicate without words</li><li>find a long straight road and see how fast you can go</li><li>volunteer at a zoo</li></ul>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03626902643451324840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250543558650797825.post-39284217478187739272008-03-24T08:58:00.000-07:002008-03-24T09:00:18.791-07:00=]Life is good<br /><br />when you make it good.<br /><br />So make it good.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03626902643451324840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250543558650797825.post-7106122266303591302008-03-15T18:23:00.001-07:002008-03-15T18:30:37.836-07:00When life is hard, you have to change^^So says Blind Melon.<br /><br />And they're right. I kind of started my change last week but its OFFICIAL today. YES, FOLKS! Today I, Lisa Pepe, cut my hair. My hair hasn't been this short since I was about 4 (short being shoulder length). Its awkward but I'm enjoying it. More importantly, I'm enjoying the symbolism. "I'm letting go of all I've held on to." I'm enjoying life and I'm enjoying myself.<br /><br />Oh life<3Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03626902643451324840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250543558650797825.post-78854719589706642852008-03-02T18:54:00.000-08:002008-03-02T19:17:40.485-08:00Poor PretenderBefuddled. So very befuddled.<br /><br />A man jumps on a table in the middle of a crowded room. He says, "My name is Jack Pretender and I am someone who has never committed to anything and its never bothered me." Everyone looks at him. Jack expects people to jump on a table and let the entire room know who they are, but no one does. So, Jack jumps off the table and walks up to a girl. "What is your name?" he asks her, everyones eyes are still on the two of them. "Jen." She responds. "Jen, who are you?" "I don't know." Jack asked several different people there names and "who they were." The people who didn't answer "I dont know" said things like "I'm a body builder" or "I'm a good person" or worst of all "I'm a mystery." After asking several people he started to cry. He walked out of the crowded room unsure if he'd ever return. It was that last answer that got to Jack. "I am a mystery." Had he not felt so defeated he would have asked the black haired, pale skinned girl, "What's so great about being a mystery?" Jack felt as though he had done the right thing. He wanted everyone to know who he was almost as badly as he wanted to know who everyone else was. Jack had decided that from now on he was pure and he would keep no more secrets. Except, what if he was wrong? What if the mystery girl had been right. What if people are meant to be hidden beneath this shroud of secrets. In spite of these thoughts, Jack couldn't help but think that secrets were just tall fences meant to keep the world out and he wanted so desperately to let the world in, only the world was not excepting the invitation.<br />Jack spent the rest of his life brooding over that day. Was he right or was he wrong?<br /><br /><br />I hate secrets. I want someone to be painfully honest with me. Will you be?Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03626902643451324840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250543558650797825.post-61047269243756487612008-02-23T09:41:00.001-08:002008-02-23T10:19:12.962-08:00I am Jack's broken heartWhen I was little my mom and I got in a fight. I was so furious that I packed my runaway bag. It was a purple Lisa Frank bag with a pink bear who held a paintbrush. The bag itself was insignificant really. It contained a Spice Girls CD, my favorite Barbie, a blanket, some crayons, some paper and my will, meaning who I intended to leave the rest of my stuff with. Sensible, I know. It lasted 3 moves. But when we were kicked out of our house and had to decide what was important to bring, I thought I would never need it. So I left it there under the bed.<br /><br />I was wrong. I would do anything to have that bag now. My mom and I had a fight last night because I shoveled the walkway incorrectly. No, I am not kidding. She came home, opened the door and started talking about how I am unmotivated and only ever do things half way. So we had a fight. This morning she told me that she didn't like me. My mom is the most beautiful person I've ever met. She's gorgeous. She's had a really hard life and managed to still move on. She raised me by herself and taught me almost everything I know. And... she doesn't like me.<br /><br />"I can't do this anymore," she said to me. "I can't keep pulling people through life." Okay. Then don't. Because I can't do this anymore, either. I can't keep convincing myself that she does. So I'm done. And I dont know if that means that I completely rebel and go and get a tattoo and smoke a lot of pot or if that means I go through life head down, shut up. Either way I'll be miserable so who the fuck cares?<br /><br />I bend really far. But I am human and I break too.<br />I am broken. <span style="font-weight: bold;">I am Jack's broken heart.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;">16 months and I am gone.<br /></div>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03626902643451324840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250543558650797825.post-45830152019243858122008-02-19T14:23:00.000-08:002008-02-19T14:53:47.103-08:00My perfect 17th birthday<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://aphs.worldnomads.com/lisa-harber/6140/new_zealand_my_birthday_cake.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://aphs.worldnomads.com/lisa-harber/6140/new_zealand_my_birthday_cake.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />My birthday is on Monday. And, though none of this will actually happen, this is how my perfect bday weekend would go....<br /><br />Friday night, we (me, alicia, davey, emily, hez, jamie, philip & chic) would party at Hez's. The usual Friday night but like 14 zillion times better because Philip would be there and it would be a jamie-pepe-bday party blast. So we'd party hard, laugh hard and just enjoy eachothers company. Then Sat. alicia, philip and myself would spend the day at the evil lake drinking tea and just being us--no awkwardness--. Perhaps we'd engage in some illegal birthday festivities too. That'd be fun =] Then Saturday night Jelly, Kristina and myself would hang out and watch movies and eat cookie dough and make gak! That'd be awesome. Then, sun. I would treat myself to the movies! I've never been to the movies by myself before and I'd love to try it. Then Mon., I'd go to school have an AWESOME day and afterwards go out to the usual birthday dinner with my mommy, daddy, Jack and Alicia. And then I'd come home and it would all be over.<br /><br />....That is how I want to turn 17 years old. =]Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03626902643451324840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250543558650797825.post-45771067534225700702008-02-09T19:11:00.000-08:002008-02-09T19:18:36.900-08:00Running into myself"...you're terrified somebodys going to stick you in a cage. Well, baby, you're already in that cage, you built it yourself. And its not bounded in the west by Tulip, Texas or in the east by somali-land. It's wherever you go. Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself."<br /><br />Those are, in my opinion, the cruelest words anyone has ever said to another human being. Unfortunatly, they are also true. Very very true.<br /><br />I dont know what to do. I make a healthy decision and I break first chance I get. I need to get out of here. Spring breaks coming up soon. Maybe there's someplace I can go. God, I hope so. I truly truly hope so.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03626902643451324840noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250543558650797825.post-79992215860688303192008-02-06T19:43:00.000-08:002008-02-06T20:41:25.809-08:00I've been hanging onto nothing<span style="font-weight: bold;">When nothing could be worse than hanging on</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Because...I now know you read this-<br /><br />No. I dont hate you. I never actually did. At most I was hurt and felt abandoned and questioned "what did I do wrong?" however juvenile that might be. But hate is not a word that comes to mind.<br /><br />The way I see it you could be doing worse. And if this is what actually makes you happy, who am I to judge? It's not what I ever expected and it's certainly not my ideal, but life has never been about ideals, now has it? Life goes on..and so do we. What other choice do we have?<br /><br />I'm ready to move on now. I really mean it this time. I'm done mourning the creamy council and I'm looking for something new. I dont know what that is yet, who it is yet. I dont know where I'll find it(them) or how long it will take, but I'm okay with that.<br /><br />Maybe its because I was able to walk my dog in a t-shirt in the middle of February and not be cold...maybe thats the reason I'm okay with things--really and surprisingly okay with them.<br /><br />You see, the thing about global warming is that its going to happen. We, as human beings, the current dominant species, are terrified that global warming will bring an end to our dominance-possibly existence so we try to fight it by preventing it or at least slowing it down. But is this idea of stepping down really such a bad thing? I mean it has been going on for the past 4.5 billion years. Who are we to stop something as antiquated as change?<br /><br />Today I read a story about a guy who keeps crickets in jars by his bed. Today I would let them go.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03626902643451324840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250543558650797825.post-29144229083968153972008-01-23T19:13:00.000-08:002008-01-23T19:35:17.652-08:00I think I'll go and take a bath instead<3It's been a while, friend. And though I'm actually much too tired to post I thought I'd just tell you briefly how life is. ..Its better. A lot better. Things still feel kind of broken, but they're looking positive. I still miss... "him" and "she" is finding her way back (or at least learning to manage her time better) but I'm not dwelling on that too much anymore. Its a brand new year and with that comes brand new opportunities so I'm going to grab everyone I can and make the best out of it.<br /><br />In September of (whoa!) last year, I wrote something in here that a friend had said to me. He said that all rain is useful. I didn't know why it was important at the time, but I know now. And he's right...All rain is quite useful.<br /><br />And now some song lyrics...Here is how I feel about life<3<br /><br /><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;" > Don't know what time it is, I've been up for way too long<br />and I'm too tired to sleep<br />I call my mother on the phone, she wasn't home,<br />and now I'm wondering the street<br />I've been a fool, I've been cruel to myself<br />I've been hanging onto nothing<br />when nothing could be worse than hanging on<br />And something tells me there must be<br />something better than all this<br /><br />I've fallen many times in love and every time<br />it's been with the wrong man<br />Still I'm out there living one day at a time<br />and doing the best I can<br />Cuz we've all made mistakes<br />that seem to lead us astray<br />But every time they helped to get us where we are today<br />And that's a good a place as any<br />and it's probably where we're best off anyway<br /><br />It's a long and rugged road<br />and we don't now where it's headed<br />But we know it's going to get us where we're going<br />And when we find what we're looking for<br />we'll drop these bags and search no more<br />'Cuz it's going to feel like heaven when we're home<br />It's going to feel like heaven when we're home<br /><br />There's no such thing as perfect,<br />and if there is we'll fnd it when we're good and dead<br />Trust me I've been looking<br />bu tonight I think I'll go and take a bath instead<br />And then maybe I'll walk a while<br />and feel the earth beneath me<br />They say if you stop looking<br />it doesn't matter if you find it<br />And whose to say that even if I did<br />it's what I'm really looking for<br /><br />It's a long and rugged road<br />and we don't now where it's headed<br />But we know it's going to get us where we're going<br />And when we find what we're looking for<br />we'll drop these bags and search no more<br />'Cuz it's going to feel like heaven when we're home<br />It's going to feel like heaven when we're home</span><br /><span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;" ><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></span>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03626902643451324840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250543558650797825.post-81880179271991760912007-11-28T19:09:00.001-08:002008-10-27T21:02:13.826-07:00"How I wish you were here"This is probably the worst poem I've ever written.<br /><br />Disclaimer: This poem is about as emo as I get. I apologize, truly. Also, I was listening to Pink Floyd [for reasons obvious to me..and no, not you Kristina] and this work is a DIRECT RESULT of "Hey You".<br /><br />Where are you?<br />Walking down this road<br />you were with me,<br />but now you are gone.<br />You found an escape route<br />now you are out<br />and here I am alone.<br /><br />Where are you?<br />I loved your faces<br />but now they are tainted<br />and I find no solace<br />in the visage of others.<br />You're trying to leave,<br />but dont you see?<br />You're just leaving me alone.<br /><br />Where are you?<br />If you wont return<br />then I'll move on.<br />I'll find comfort with no face<br />He's got to be here somewhere<br />on these wintered streets.<br />Go on now, pack your bags.<br />Leave me with these rags.<br />I wont always be alone.<br /><br />Where are you?<br />I'm just curious now.<br />Turns out the faceless<br />just don't compare.<br />I bet you're nowhere near<br />but 'how I wish you were here."<br />(Just seems to be)<br />I'm always alone without you.<br /><br />**Oct. 27th, 2008 --> I'm reading through old posts. This poem is awful. It was something I needed to write and there are about 70 different versions. When I finally finished the last version, months after this one, I felt better.**Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03626902643451324840noreply@blogger.com0