All good yodelers must warm up…

fas·cist (fash-ist) n. A reactionary or dictatorial person. 101 Ways to Annoy a Fascist By The Deth Vegetable.  11) Spraypaint FUCK THE WORLD on his Pitt-bull. 12) Overthrow the government. 13) Wear a Chineese peasant’s blue denim uniform with a button reading I SUPPORT THE NATIONAL LIBERATION FRONT. 14) Learn Russian and speak only Rusian. 15) Learn Albanian and do like-wise.

Here I am today. It was an interesting day. I learned today.

I call Thursday.

I sense I am a burden today. In inner conversation with myself (one way of course) I learned that I am too much burden for someone to handle. Perhaps for a while, then it is okay, but after long, it becomes a heavy load and they have to drop it somewhere. I feel there is probably no one that can carry this burdensome load for long, or even forever. Therefore I am blue. I am also weak, and it sketches my imperfectionality every time a someone cannot carry this burdensome me. I learned that people are liars, and that life is almost always some of their joking. I am living life on this webpage ring and the pop ups are springing up more often than they used to be. My pop up blocker must have died. Oh gee.

If you’ve ever laid awake at night and thought about things, you’d know that you can obtain a massive amount of of information that way. It is hell to do this when sleep escapes you, and punishment follows when it does not. It is pure hell. I sat in this thought today. It pained me. I am pained. Often pained, but never nearly so much when nothing has been done to be it so. I feel sadness, and yet, happiness that the weight of my soul will never be shared by another; I feel sadness that if I were to go today by my own means, nobody would have ever known I was going to; I feel sadness in knowing that when I am gone, nobody will remember me for anything but what I merely am.. not. What I merely am, they will never know.

I feel sad that when I go, they will never know that I felt this way, or any of the many complexities of other ways. How could they know? They don’t want to. This I see I cannot explain, the sadness I feel, and the events which make me feel this way, and yet I feel them still. My anonymity is hell. I choose my anonymity of the soul. Nobody can handle my soul.

I conversed with a young lady today, although she isn’t technically a young lady compared to me. We were headed to another school for 4-6 grade children. Our “writing buddies”, we call them. We as the journalism class are teaching a fifth grade grouping of students “how to write and put out an effective newspaper.” Bullshit.

She, Amanda is her name, and I, were commenting on the why’s of our having to go around to the side of the building, instead of simply gliding into the front doors and straight to our classroom there. She asks, “I don’t understand why we have to go around. Why can’t we just go straight in/through?” I reply that people do these things when they are scared. They never go directly to, they always go around. We could not go directly to our destination, we had to go around and get a security pass. So symbolic, that was. That sentence. Yes, it was. We cannot go directly to the problem… we must first go around and get a security pass.

My uncle has been moved to a halfway-house(prison facility) three to four hours closer than he was before.

Some jackass that attends my educational building named Aaron ‘beat up a female’. Pig.

Geri’s dad is most definitely angry with me, for a reason unbeknownst(sp?) to my conscious me.

No matter how many times their head collides with the mesh screen covering the lid, a rat will never cease to jump up and down repeatedly in attempts to escape by knocking the lid off it’s center… not even when you place a full package of plain white printer paper on top of the lid.

I fully enjoyed my three days of living completely and utterly by myself and alone.

I don’t think anyone will ever know what to do with me in any form or way, in order to even begin to help me.

I can’t remember if I had anything else to say.

I am in search of the perfect font.. help me.

What does the word ‘auspicious’ mean?


~ by Ashlee on March 18, 2004.

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