lutinquill

A Poison Tree

Thu, 29 Mar 2007 00:23:34 GMT

I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright,
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine,

And into my garden stole,
When the night had veiled the pole.
In the morning, glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree

- William Blake

Just Another Entry--Topic: Love and the Denial Thereof

Sun, 17 Dec 2006 02:19:07 GMT

I haven't written in this journal in awhile-mostly because I haven't written anything in awhile.

I'd like to write about love for a moment.

I have heard all sorts of things about love- and responses come from people young and old. I'm speaking specifically of the end of love- when the magic stops, the heart detatches. and the person(s) move on to (hopefully) better things.

This has happened to me, which is a fact I can't deny no matter how much I want to sometimes.
What surprises me is just how often I really want to.
I'm writing about it, so I may as well get it over with.
I loved a guy, once. I loved him so much that I didn't know what to do. Anyway, after chasing after him for almost a year, he asked me out. Nothing romantic, actually- he was prompted by several mutual friends. That didn't work out anyway, because he dumped me shortly after that.
To make a long story short, he got back together with me a few months later, whereupon we 'enjoyed' months of mutual happiness, until I realized something.
He loved me and I couldn't say I loved him anymore.
So, short version, I pushed him away and pushed him away until I finally broke up with him.

Now, when I think about anything with him, I get this awful feeling of either embarrassment for having done anything with him or just general anger.
Gabriel, you're thinking, just don't think about it and you'll be alright.
But I do think about it.
And it bothers me that things I did with a guy I loved trigger so much embarassment and regret within me.

I'm not sure if it's just me who's this happened to--but why does it seem like, with me and love, it's "Been there, done that, returned the t-shirt unopened"??

In regards and reactions to the previous post.

Mon, 02 Oct 2006 23:22:59 GMT

.............Damn it all.

the difference between speaking and thinking

Mon, 02 Oct 2006 23:13:50 GMT

What I think:
You're beautiful.
I like you.
I like your style.
I really like your smile.
I like your laugh.
You are so pretty.
I want to know you.
Talk with me.
Did you ever see Phantom of the Opera?
If so, did you like it?
You're eyes captivate me.
I've been dumbstruck since I first saw you.
Do you ever think twice about me?
Do you even like me?
How different are we?
Tell me everything.
I know! That's so cool!
I love that!
...What is it like to hold you?
What do you like in a girl?
You think a girl should go for it every time she likes a guy?
It's hard for me to flirt, it's hard to put myself out there.
DO YOU KNOW HOW STUPID I AM AROUND YOU??

What I say:
Hey.
What's up?
Yea.
Really?
That's awesome.
Niice.
Haha.
Later.

The Risks of Faulty Genetics..

Sun, 11 Jun 2006 07:54:36 GMT

One thing about the month of June, I thought irritably to myself as I pulled my shirt over my head, is that with it comes a silent partner, ever present, appearing without fail. The heat wave.
And indeed, this one had announced its arrival with a curious fervor, blasting my little town with hot, dry air and blazing sun leaving citizens wondering as to what had become of the cool sixty degrees of merely a week before.
However, despite the harsh new heat, the people all around the state gained comfort in the fact that the usual stifling humidity normally akin to early summer weather had yet to set in.
However, what remained a blessing for many is a curse for me, especially with my, as my lovely friend K refers to it, mermaid skin. My already normally dry skin, in this weather, cracked and turned brittle as the air, dry as bone and desperate with thirst itself, sucked up the little moisture I had in me.
Yesterday, after an extraordinarily hot morning, where temperatures reached the mid-nineties, rain poured down in turrets, the drops already cooled to half the temperature of the standing air, and by comparison were freezing. The refreshing shower, though it succeeded in substantially cooling the air (today it was breezy and must have been in the sixties again), had done nothing for the dryness, I noted with a grimace as I peeled of my tank top to lie rumpled on the floor next to my already wrinkled jeans and overshirt. Shivering a bit, I grabbed the economy sized bottle of lotion and began the regimen that had become custom for me to complete multiple times daily since the heat began, coating lotion over my ankles, heels, and calves, then rubbing it in before moving up. I sat down when I got to my abdomen and absent-mindedly looked at the computer screen, my gaze drawn to the buddy list off to one side. Everyone was away, of course. Who else was home on a Saturday night, or at least had nothing else to do but be online?
Well, it was late- after 12, at least. I finished with my abdomen and smoothed my hands over my back, over the sides of my ribs towards my chest.
But then I felt something which made me pause. The fingers of my right hand had grazed something on the left side of my body, right at the point where the ribs ended and the chest began. I ran my hand back over it, mildly curious. My fingers poked and gently prodded. My eyes remained fixed on the screen- but I wasn't focusing anymore.
Was that- could it be? It was. A lump.
   My eyes glanced briefly down, unsure- surely there is some visual sign- I would be able to see it- but no. My eyes search but find nothing but pale white skin, and in their hurry to deny that they have missed something they lock onto the screen again- the contents of which don't matter nearly as much, anymore.
   Thoughts fly through my head- images flash in my mind's eye. The commercials, the warnings from people who matter nothing to you on the screen. Then the warnings of the people who are a little closer to home. The doctors who said the same thing the people on the television did. The women around me who had said the same thing.
   The horrible fact that the risks drastically increase if people in your blood line have had it.
   The fact that they increase even more, if you don't take care of yourself.
   All this from one lump on the left side of my chest.
   What are the possibilities....that it could be breast cancer??

An Open Heart and Mind

Fri, 02 Jun 2006 19:43:15 GMT

Right. So my friend told me about this fellow living at her house for the next day or two. He's apparantly Lithuanian, and gorgeous. A plus is that he is bilingual, (probably spelled that wrong, oh well). For some reason, that seems so fantastic- I think people who can speak multiple languages are very cool. After all, I've only got one set of words here, not counting tentative French, and it's not exactly the most fantastic accent, if you know what I mean.
I believe that I shall try to master a different language in the next few years. Well, having decided that, leaves only one question, doesn't it?
Which bloody one do I choose??
French? Italian?.....Lithuanian?? ;-)
Until next time, friends.

My community: the newborn

Tue, 30 May 2006 00:12:03 GMT

http://community.livejournal.com/search4passion/

Steps for Passion

Tue, 30 May 2006 00:07:48 GMT

I followed my beautiful friend wide_eyedchild's advice, and looked up some communities. I joined one- and then I made one! It's called search4passion, and I cannot wait until people start joining it!!! To those who have already seen it, I plead the fifth at the corny first entry. I do apologize. I also found some cool people and so contacted said individuals. It would be cool to get a return comment.
Well, I'm off to complete another research paper...It really gets to be all statistics, you know?

Haven't been getting much sleep these past few nights- it is so hot!!! *face*

This name means something

Sun, 28 May 2006 06:18:21 GMT

I started this story a few minutes ago....I have no idea where I was going with it, but I figured I'd post it anyway.

Yijede

Ever since she was a little girl, people had said that Yijede looked exactly like her mother. Even in the hospital where she had been born, people stopped to coo over her soft skin, the color of the caramel toffees she would buy at Cringals Candy ten years later with her weekly pocket money. They held up her tiny hand to her mothers cheek to match the skin tone.

As the years went by, and little Yijede grew like the lilac sapling planted in her backyard the week of her birth, she was filled with quiet pride every time someone commented on this striking similarity. Her little cheeks flushed with pleasure at the idea of being at all like the pretty, graceful woman she looked up to and found so fascinating.

3 minutes later...

Fri, 26 May 2006 07:27:13 GMT

It's times like these that my inner responsibility starts to get a bit testy...
"Oh, Gabriel, you twit, of course noone's sent you a ruddy email! It's three twenty in the bloody morning. Go to bed!!!"

A Somewhat Triumphant Return

Fri, 26 May 2006 07:19:20 GMT

I have done it! Success. The spoils of my labor will turn up tomorrow in the form of two pairs of pants, two pairs of socks, tow pairs of underware, and two tops.
Weeee...
I should be tired.
I really want to be tired
But I'm not.
Ah, bugger.

Still didn't find that stupid mystery stuff, though. That frightens me.

Oh, and I lost two arrows.

Good morrow, all!

Wee Hours of the Morning, and No Laundry.

Fri, 26 May 2006 06:24:59 GMT

I got into another argument with my father about the state of living here a few hours ago. Honestly, I don't understand myself- why I even try anymore. I mean, it always ends with me having poured my guts out and upset and vulnerable, and my dad saying the same thing. Something to the effect of: "I don't understand what you want me to do, Gabriel, just try to get yourself organized and don't worry about the rest of the house."
One little problem with that, dear father, I want to say, is that I don't Live in my Room!
I'll just have to try and get over it, though, so for the last four hours I've been alternating between redesigning my room, and finishing that paper that I needed to turn in later today.
A cat just threw up outside my room.
Great. Now I get to be on the look out for Mystery Puke, among other things.
On the bright side, I saw two of the prettiest L-shaped desks today! I can't wait to meet them! Either one is my dream desk! Thank goodness for {online sale search site}. I also found a futon that is a little worn around the edges, but really I think it looks very comfortable.
OKay, so I'm lying through my teeth- I'd rather have space than comfort.
Is that so wrong?
I should have done laundry today- I have absolutely nothing left- but I didn't. Go, Gabriel. Can I maybe sneak a load in now??? Dare I brave the Mystery Puke?? Not to mention the barking dogs??

I must try. For alas, it is just plain gross wearing the same jeans for {elapsed amount of time} in a row.

Wish me luck, good people. And until we meet again, happy fortunes... ::Grimaces:: ::Raises weapon to cautionary battle stance::
Right, then. Here we go....

Counting Cars in the Parking lot...

Wed, 24 May 2006 03:00:38 GMT

I have two long papers due tomorrow, and yet here I am writing in my livejournal. I pause once in awhile to take a sip of a generic soft drink with caffeine in it (I don't endorse brands), but basically I've been procrastinating for the past hour and a half... Excuse me while I recharge my battery.

{pause}

MMmmm.. That's some good carbonated sugar water right there, let me tell you.

My mom always referred to what I'm doing now as counting cars in the parking lot, no matter how much I would tell her that what I'm doing is much more interesting and requires far less physical exertion. Teehee. It should also be added that as I'm locked in my room and everyone else is asleep, it shouldn't matter worth a fig what I'm doing, because it's my business.
So there.

To Whom It May Concern...

Tue, 23 May 2006 01:35:19 GMT

A friend of mine recently inquired about my new journal, and its' layout. I would like to take this as an opportunity to say that it was, without exaggeration, 'as easy as pushing a button' . It's a template. I actually would have liked something a little less simple myself, but this will do for now, I suppose.

Also to this friend of mine, {as well as anyone else who may want to answer} I want to say the following:

Have you ever been consumed with a- however brief- moment of pure jealousy when it came to a friend?

I would also like to make the following announcement.

The words "Grace With Presence" to the left of this and every entry are the equivalent to "Leave A Comment"
So don't be afraid, and please, don't hesitate, to grace me with yours.

Mon, 22 May 2006 02:36:31 GMT

I kneel in the dew soaked grass, feeling moisture soak through the white cotton of my drawstring pants. The light breeze cuts through my tunic, and ruffles my blood red hair into my eyes, raw and red from salt. I hug myself and curl into a ball, ignoring my protesting body. For some reason, the same gentle breeze that has so lovingly ruffled my hair has stolen all the warmth from my body, leaving me to shiver. I take a minute, breathing deep, inhaling the scent of dirt, of sand.
Of blood. I'll never get the stains out.
I lay there prone in the grass, while inside me emotions are frothing and bubbling and writhing, bringing a new heat to warm me. Rage. Slamming my fists into the ground, I curl back my spine like a serpent rising to attack. I let the air, the still morning air fresh from the shower, fill my lungs, and feel them expand, ignoring the burning of pulled muscles.
When my lungs have filled beyond capacity, I arch my back, lift my head to the sky, and scream. It tears out of me. I scream and scream, until everything pours out and I am empty again. Until all that is left in my steaming brain is the one-word question which drove me to this in the first place.

Why??

Sun, 21 May 2006 22:54:15 GMT

I'm sitting here, trying to get some work done before tommorow, and all the sudden I start thinking of Friday night. Suddenly, I can't think of anything but Friday night, and Saturday night-
Not anything.
The cheese cracker I bite into tastes like everything I've ever tried before; old and boring and oh-so familiar. The books that I've read multiple times sit on my bookshelf now, dusty and worn.
I realized today that my nose- it's lost the sensitivity to scents, but only because, one could presume, if it hadn't, I wouldn't be able to eat.
Some people think of home and they think of smells like lemon pledge and baking cookies. I think of dirt, of dust, and grime.
Home sweet home. It has been and always will be exactly the same.
Friday night, I walked into the house of my friend, and was tense, and quiet, and empty-headed. It was my fault that I had no fun that night. Except when I danced. Dancing is beautiful- it feels Beautiful. The rhythm in your ears and the feeling in your body as it moves, and if you are extremely lucky, synchronizes perfectly with that rhythm in your mind.
Why can't everything feel like that?
Why can't it always feel like we are dancing.
I was out of breath when I stopped- even though the song had only lasted a few minutes at the most. I felt good, and my feet hurt, and my breathing was hard.
But then- later on, this little thought popped into my head. It was an unrealized thought, but one I looked upon in wonder, for the simple reason that I had no idea, no clue where it had come from.

It was the thought that my best friend was going away for the summer. Stupid, I know, because she's not. It's just that her boyfriend is back. Any girl would be ecstatic to have their boyfriend back in town. But no- the thought wouldn't go away.
Not that I believe this thought. I don't. And it wasn't all that was bothering me that night.
Quite frankly, I just felt so- boring. And like I was not contributing, just- being there, intruding.

Saturday night was better. I remember laughing so hard, I had to cross my legs. I also remember fighting for the chocolate in some sort of keep-away game, which, though I fell off the surface we were on and hit the floor, was really some of the most fun I've had all week.

But both times when I left I thought to myself "I don't want to go. These people are my friends and I want to spend more time with them and fix the uninteresting parts of the evening. I don't want to go. I want to laugh and smile some more."

To those who read this, it is meant, the above, to be a compliment. Please take it as one.

Job Search Thwarted

Sun, 21 May 2006 20:41:11 GMT

So, I just tried to find an interior design firm near enough to [location] that I can find a job or internship there. No luck. Turns out the nearest ones are a few counties away. I filled out- or will- fill out the application for volunteering at the Animal Shelter. Unfortunately the summer program is full. I'm thinking that maybe I can volunteer on Saturdays- in lew of having an actual life.
What's on the menu for mext year, anyway? Full day of school, journalism, and(I hope) theatre. Not to mention the classes I want to take outside of school-which brings me to a rousing conxlusion: I might actually have to buy a calendar. And use it.
I contacted Color Me Mine, as well. Sent an email to the woman who runs the place. Gah, what is up with my typing lately?? You may not be able to se this, but I keep mispelling things...I have to go back and type it over at least twice. Very well. Until the end of the paragraph, I witl be typing with out correctiong myself, and see how many peole can understand what I am sayibg witjhout difficulty.
See what I mean??
But about that job at Color Me Mine... I'll explain it later. I just can't wait to hear back from her!!
I used up two rolls of film this morning in my moms new camera. I think I'm having way too much fun with it. It's not supposed to be mine at all.
Oh, well. C'est la vie.

Welcome

Sun, 21 May 2006 12:32:52 GMT

I guess I'm not entirely sure why I went out and got this journal. Maybe it's because I felt on some level that I needed it. I have a livejournal-an old one- already. Not to mention my xanga. But this one- is for me. This one, will be for me to say whatever I want to say.
By the way, for those of you who do not know, Lutin means something in another language. Go on, and look it up. Contrary to what some may believe, I didn't just conjure it up out of my head. It's real.
Have fun searching. :)