hildeguardog's Diaryland Diary

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Archives 1 reboot

-


-

helifino's Xanga Blog

1.1


-

3091267

helifino's Xanga Site

helifino

caucaznemoboy@yahoo.com


-

helifino

helifino

caucaznemoboy@yahoo.com


-

</p><p><dc:creator>helifino</dc:creator></p><p><pubDate>Wed, 14 Sep 2005 22:24:09 -04:00</pubDate></p><p><br>-<content:encoded></p><p>-<![CDATA[<p>The world is a mess today. Catholic people are being branded like<br>cattle, but on their forehead with ashes, Bush's decision to ban<br>freedom in the United States is all over the front cover of all our<br>favorite newspapers, and, of course, The Passion of the Christ came out<br>today. My brother is still being a nazi in his interpretations of how<br>much he should be allowed to use the computer. It's just not happening,<br>buddy, you're 11. When I was 11 I wasn't a fuckass... I gave in to what<br>my brother and sister wanted. So give in to me, or I will make you. I<br>am bigger than you, and I know where you hide your money. So I'm still<br>fretting about programming. I have no idea how this math situation will<br>work out when it's all said and done. John, without knowing it, is<br>giving me a leg up into getting into video production next year. M(r)s.<br>Clark recognized the last name and commented on how talented he is. And<br>tomorrow I'm going bowling. I apologize for these uninspired entries,<br>lately. Really, I do. I feel like I have to write, but nothing comes to<br>me when I finally get a chance. </p><i>I'm too awake to stay in bed<br></i><p></p><br><p><i>I'm too anxious to stay dead</i></p>]]><br></content:encoded></p><p><wp:post_date>2004-02-25 22:09:17</wp:post_date></p><p><wp:post_date_gmt>2004-02-26 03:09:17</wp:post_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status></p><p><wp:status>Private</wp:status></p><p><wp:post_type>post</wp:post_type></p><p><wp:original_xanga_id>67094613</wp:original_xanga_id></p><p></item></p><p><br>-<item></p><p><title/></p><p><dc:creator>helifino</dc:creator></p><p><pubDate>Wed, 14 Sep 2005 22:24:17 -04:00</pubDate></p><p><br>-<content:encoded></p><p>-<![CDATA[One of my favorite songs of all time is now playing for anyone that<br>isn't subscribed, I think. Those subscribers are missing out like never<br>before, which is why this guy stays away from subscriptions. That, and<br>I'm intimidated. Ok, so this may be my most pointless writing to<br>date, but I'll just let it all out so I can be fresh next time... so<br>I'm buying Dave's $200 guitar pedal for $50. I feel bad, though,<br>because I don't like ripping people off, ever since Hareef<br>Abeena(spelled phonetically because I'm not sure of the real<br>spelling) back in 1st grade... I also feel bad about having<br>anything against Danny. He's probably moving out of state over the<br>summer. He's like my only friend besides Micah. This summer has just<br>taken a turn for the worst. I guess it is my fault for only<br>hanging out with school people at school... Oh, and if you're into<br>artsy, thought-provoking, independent films, see Waking Life. It's real<br>good. Animation like crazy. Or however they do it... This weekend is my<br>movie weekend. Come one, come all, it's gonna be a lonely one. I have<br>so many movies I need to see, some for the second or third time, but<br>they're all bound to be worth it. I swear.]]><br></content:encoded></p><p><wp:post_date>2004-02-24 23:14:52</wp:post_date></p><p><wp:post_date_gmt>2004-02-25 04:14:52</wp:post_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status></p><p><wp:status>Private</wp:status></p><p><wp:post_type>post</wp:post_type></p><p><wp:original_xanga_id>66845703</wp:original_xanga_id></p><p><br>-<wp:comment></p><p><br>-<wp:comment_content></p><p>-<![CDATA[awww...yer my friend.  we should really hang out sometime.  like go to the blink concert even though its extremely over priced]]><br></wp:comment_content></p><p><wp:comment_approved>1</wp:comment_approved></p><p><wp:comment_date>2004-02-25 22:42:00</wp:comment_date></p><p><wp:comment_date_gmt>2004-02-26 03:42:00</wp:comment_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_author>mynameisbevin</wp:comment_author></p><p><wp:comment_author_email>bounce@xanga.com</wp:comment_author_email></p><p><wp:comment_author_url>http://mynameisbevin.xanga.com/</wp:comment_author_url></p><p><wp:comment_user_id>0</wp:comment_user_id></p><p><wp:comment_xanga_user_id>2883569</wp:comment_xanga_user_id></p><p><wp:comment_parent>0</wp:comment_parent></p><p><wp:comment_type/></p><p><wp:comment_id>116186756</wp:comment_id></p><p></wp:comment></p><p></item></p><p><br>-<item></p><p><title/></p><p><dc:creator>helifino</dc:creator></p><p><pubDate>Wed, 14 Sep 2005 22:24:26 -04:00</pubDate></p><p><br>-<content:encoded></p><p>-<![CDATA[<p>I wish I could live in Western New York, Summer of 1999. We had made<br>stadium seating out of two couches to accomodate all the people that<br>made it a habit to just show up at the Mead's house whenever they<br>deemed it necessary. Jimmy* was a regular. The particular memory that<br>sticks in my mind is when Matt, Kiel, Joe, John and I were on our way<br>somewhere, all in one car, with Enema in the State filling<br>every other little crevice in the car. We were probably going to<br>Blockbuster, which means taking a highway or a long road or something,<br>so the moment had time to develope. We had stopped at Bob's to get some<br>gas, then we were on our way. Matt hit play, and 'Dumpweed'<br>came on. I already owned a copy of  Dude Ranch, but didn't know<br>that they had put out another since. I couldn't put my finger on the<br>voices at first, but then it clicked, as did everything else. We were<br>driving so fasr, because Matt knew those roads so well, and had seen a<br>cop, or something along those lines, on it maybe once. </p><br><p>*Jimmy was big on Less Than Jake, had a Suicide Machines jacket, and<br>saw John at the Jimmy Eat World show at the Metro. Jimmy had driven<br>from Ohio to see it. </p><br><p>I know that those words mean absolutely nothing to anybody but maybe<br>those involved, but I would die to have one more night where I<br>could look back, the way I am right now, and not have a clue as to<br>where to start organizing my thoughts. Last summer showed signs of<br>being just as good, but it was like an antenna with bad reception<br>because LJ was there, and he was hyper, and Uncle Billy wasn't there,<br>and now I have to write songs about and for him for guitar class<br>because he, in the four years he lay dying, affected my life more than<br>anybody I have ever met. I wish there were a heaven so I could<br>apologize and make it up to him and get this off my chest. And right<br>now all I want is someone to sit with me, maybe on the roof above my<br>kitchen, on a night when it isn't too cold, so we can contemplate<br>religion, and complain about the light polution that's keeping us from<br>seeing the stars. I guess I just want Friday Night and Summer and<br>Comfort to have meaning again. </p>]]><br></content:encoded></p><p><wp:post_date>2004-02-23 18:45:24</wp:post_date></p><p><wp:post_date_gmt>2004-02-23 23:45:24</wp:post_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status></p><p><wp:status>Private</wp:status></p><p><wp:post_type>post</wp:post_type></p><p><wp:original_xanga_id>66464821</wp:original_xanga_id></p><p></item></p><p><br>-<item></p><p><title/></p><p><dc:creator>helifino</dc:creator></p><p><pubDate>Wed, 14 Sep 2005 22:24:32 -04:00</pubDate></p><p><br>-<content:encoded></p><p>-<![CDATA[I'm sorry for lying to myself for the past year and a half. I'm<br>not sorry for wasting Danny's time, because he has no regrets, I'm<br>sure. I realized he was an asshole. It was like running into a concrete<br>wall, and it hurt. I mean, I knew he was a pushover, which should have<br>explained the rest to me, but I didn't catch on right away. I think<br>he's just too influenced be everybody he talks to. Not everyone is<br>right, pal, or right would contradict itself way too often. But thanks<br>Danny, what you said to me has kept me from talking to Rob for the<br>first time in months, and everyone else that would've been there. I<br>mean sure, I might've backed out anyways, as planned, but now I have no<br>one to share my presence with. Micah might be able to do something<br>around 10, or so I'm assuming, but the way I'm tiring, I'll be asleep<br>by 9:30. Jesus fucking Christ. I feel like dying for the first time in<br>weeks.]]><br></content:encoded></p><p><wp:post_date>2004-02-21 21:19:01</wp:post_date></p><p><wp:post_date_gmt>2004-02-22 02:19:01</wp:post_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status></p><p><wp:status>Private</wp:status></p><p><wp:post_type>post</wp:post_type></p><p><wp:original_xanga_id>65963462</wp:original_xanga_id></p><p></item></p><p><br>-<item></p><p><title/></p><p><dc:creator>helifino</dc:creator></p><p><pubDate>Wed, 14 Sep 2005 22:24:44 -04:00</pubDate></p><p><br>-<content:encoded></p><p>-<![CDATA[<p>I want to go to the party tonight, but not alone. I don't want to<br>drink tonight, or anything pertaining to that. I've been preferring<br>clear-headedness lately. It's good stuff. I always back out of these<br>things, though, and end up spending time at Micah's watching him and<br>Zach play video games. Boring. I don't necessarily want to hang out<br>with David, tonight, because he'll be at Micah's. I can't stand that<br>cocky like dipshit. Clothes need to be put on, then decisions will be<br>made. And the new song is the up. Give it a chance. </p>]]><br></content:encoded></p><p><wp:post_date>2004-02-21 18:07:47</wp:post_date></p><p><wp:post_date_gmt>2004-02-21 23:07:47</wp:post_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status></p><p><wp:status>Private</wp:status></p><p><wp:post_type>post</wp:post_type></p><p><wp:original_xanga_id>65920335</wp:original_xanga_id></p><p><br>-<wp:comment></p><p><br>-<wp:comment_content></p><p>-<![CDATA[<P>i agree, that was an awesome game. you guys played really well. <BR>you were pretty slick there on that baseline, nice moves. </P><br><P>and you did awesome on your song =)<BR>good stuff</P><br><P>can't wait for hofman's special little playoff thing. </P>]]><br></wp:comment_content></p><p><wp:comment_approved>1</wp:comment_approved></p><p><wp:comment_date>2004-02-21 20:59:00</wp:comment_date></p><p><wp:comment_date_gmt>2004-02-22 01:59:00</wp:comment_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_author>punkerjoe4310</wp:comment_author></p><p><wp:comment_author_email>bounce@xanga.com</wp:comment_author_email></p><p><wp:comment_author_url>http://punkerjoe4310.xanga.com/</wp:comment_author_url></p><p><wp:comment_user_id>0</wp:comment_user_id></p><p><wp:comment_xanga_user_id>1625428</wp:comment_xanga_user_id></p><p><wp:comment_parent>0</wp:comment_parent></p><p><wp:comment_type/></p><p><wp:comment_id>114392181</wp:comment_id></p><p></wp:comment></p><p></item></p><p><br>-<item></p><p><title/></p><p><dc:creator>helifino</dc:creator></p><p><pubDate>Wed, 14 Sep 2005 22:24:54 -04:00</pubDate></p><p><br>-<content:encoded></p><p>-<![CDATA[<p>Yesterday(Thursday) - I forget my folder with all of my notes for my<br>English presentation that needed to be typed out by Friday(today). </p><br><p>This morning - The Rest of the Day - As I realized the night before,<br>all of my clean clothes were just washed, and still in the basement<br>waiting for me to pick them up and take them upstairs. I didn't think<br>much of it at the time, so I left it until today. I get out of the<br>shower, go upstairs, and no clean clothes are waiting for me. So,<br>bathrobe on, I traipsed down to the basement, got the laundry, and<br>headed on my way back to the room. I get dressed, rush breakfast, and<br>go to brush my teeth. Mouthwash washing my mouth, and Micah calls. My<br>Dad, in his asshole-like mood this morning, tells me to answer the<br>phone. I just ignore him, and let it go. Maybe 5 minutes later, the<br>doorbell rings, and it's Micah. By this time I'm ready, but my Dad<br>insists on giving us a ride because of how incredibly late we are.<br>There have been later days, but this, at least, gave me time to show<br>Micah the updates I made to his Xanga. So, after an argument with my<br>Dad over whether or not I should wear a coat to school, a fight in<br>which he came out victorious from, we got in the cold car, with some<br>conservative talk-radio show filling the airwaves. A little bit earlier<br>my Dad had jokingly said that he would've strangled me had not other<br>people been around. I didn't find that one particularly funny. So I cut<br>2nd(Geometry, with Ms. Dotson, who is in dire need of a vasectomy to<br>help her grow out of the "I'm a total bitch" stage of life we all go<br>through. So I worked on my part of the English presentation for about<br>20 minutes before being kicked out by a class. "Ok, Scott, it's cool",<br>I'll just cut 5th because Mrs. Dandurand makes it known that she<br>doesn't come in on Fridays. So, on to gym. Isaac and Rowena and Mareya<br>and I were 2-2-2 over the "season" up until today, when we lost to<br>Joann and Aaron's team. Joann can shoot like crazy and I envy Aaron's<br>quickness and everything else he used to make Isaac and I look like<br>idiots. So we're 2-3-2 now... Division flew by, and before I knew it, I<br>was in Ms. Murphy's room, uncomfortable as ever. I was first to go,<br>which is probably best, but still, nerve-racking. It would've been<br>worse had I really known anyone in that class more than a few words<br>here and there. And luckily I sit with all the supportive people. So<br>anyways, I go up to the chair, taking my time, and hesitating to start<br>as best I could. It wouldn't get me out of the situation, I<br>finally realized, so I started. My introduction dragged on much longer<br>than it should've because it took me a while to gather the<br>courage to spit out the first line. I mumbled my way through the song,<br>and got off. I felt better once I got off, but not satisfied because I<br>feel that I let down Ms. Murphy and myself by not being prepared, and<br>by not just fucking singing my song. A girl wrote a song with<br>references to a flower, so I'm changing my background music because of<br>that. I insist on some of you gathering an ear-full. But really, I<br>haven't heard one bad song, and that's just awesome. So for 5th, I went<br>to the tech lab, saw Gabe, stole his computer, and worked for 40<br>minutes until I finished. Then I went to class, and the guy wouldn't<br>sign me in. He asked why I hadn't asked his permission first, and I<br>told him that I didn't want to risk him saying no. He didn't<br>understand, but I understood his reasoning. I will receive my first<br>ever detention on Monday. So the presentation in English went, and my<br>part was the shortest because I couldn't remember what was part of the<br>No Child Left Behind Act and the Nation at Risk report put out by<br>Reagan. Lunch was the usual. Not much talking, awkward situations on my<br>part. Nothing out of the ordinary. The test in 8th(World Studies) was<br>multiple choice and an essay, and it was easy. 100, maybe. Micah and I<br>hung out after school, and from the until now, everything has been<br>pretty ok. I coached Henry's basketball team to a 22-12 loss, but it<br>was fun. I should be a coach some time. Very embaressing day in school,<br>to say the least. I don't know what I'd say if I were to say it at its<br>most. Fuck school, please. </p><br><p><i>Don't make me prove to you that there is no Heaven... I've been enjoying myself lately.</i></p>]]><br></content:encoded></p><p><wp:post_date>2004-02-21 02:48:55</wp:post_date></p><p><wp:post_date_gmt>2004-02-21 07:48:55</wp:post_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status></p><p><wp:status>Private</wp:status></p><p><wp:post_type>post</wp:post_type></p><p><wp:original_xanga_id>65794105</wp:original_xanga_id></p><p></item></p><p><br>-<item></p><p><title/></p><p><dc:creator>helifino</dc:creator></p><p><pubDate>Wed, 14 Sep 2005 22:25:08 -04:00</pubDate></p><p><br>-<content:encoded></p><p>-<![CDATA[<p>I've been thinking about honesty a lot lately. Emotional honesty, I<br>mean. I think that when you're sorry for doing or saying something,<br>you're ashamed that you let your "true colors" show. I mean, whenever I<br>slip up and really am sorry for doing something that affected someone<br>negatively it's because that person is new to seeing my mistakes. With<br>Micah, for example, I don't apologize for offending him, or something<br>along those lines, nearly as much as I would to someone I didn't know<br>very well. But look at me go, I just apologized to Zach for complaining<br>about this little rut I've been in all week. I told him that I know<br>when Micah complains I feel like shooting him because of how stupid his<br>complaints are, and he's just trying to get attention or trying to get<br>me to pity him...</p><br><p>(WASHINGTON - <font face="arial" size="-1">When someone says, "I<br>feel your pain," the person really may. A groundbreaking study shows<br>that some of the same brain regions involved in feeling physical pain<br>become activated when someone empathizes with another's pain. </font></p><br><p> <font size="2"> </font>And when it's time to feel better,<br>thinking that a drug helps can make it so, according to a different<br>brain-scanning study that finally caught the power of placebo in<br>action. </p><br><p><br></p><p>The studies, reported in Friday's edition of the journal<br>Science, provide important new evidence of the power of the mind, said<br>Dr. Jon Levine, a pain specialist at the University of California, San<br>Francisco, who reviewed the research. </p><p><br></p><p>"Very likely the same part of the brain which is affected by<br>empathy for pain, and therefore suffering, is the area that also our<br>mind or our expectation has to deal with if we're going to get control<br>of that pain," Levine said. </p><p><br></p><p>In the empathy study, British researchers recruited 16 couples.<br>One at a time, the women were put into brain scanners called MRI<br>machines; the men sat nearby. The women could see only their loved<br>one's hand and a computer screen. The women and men got brief electric<br>shocks to the hand. The computer screen flashed who would get the next<br>shock and whether it would be mild or very sharp. </p><p><br></p><p>When the women got shocked, the MRI showed how their brain's<br>entire pain network activated, researchers reported. They registered<br>feeling the jolt and how much it stung, from sensory brain regions, as<br>well as how much it made them suffer — the "affective" or emotional<br>regions. </p><p><br></p><p>But when the men got shocked, part of the women's pain network<br>sprang into action, too — not sensory regions but emotional ones. They<br>knew when the men were being shocked only by watching the computer<br>screen. </p><p><br></p><p>The lead researcher, Tania Singer of University College of<br>London, likened it to vivid feeling when imminent pain is imagined and<br>the heart speeds up before the actual sensation arrives. </p><p><br></p><p>Men were not studied for their reaction to how women responded to a shock. <br></p><p><br></p><p>Singer did not tell the couples that she was studying empathy so<br>as not to rig the results. But she later asked the women to describe<br>how they felt when their partner was zapped. </p><p><br></p><p>"They indicated it was as unpleasant" when the man got zapped as<br>when they did, Singer said. "What they say matched what I saw in the<br>brain activity." </p><p><br></p><p>She also rated their degree of empathy, using questions such as<br>how easily they cry at movies. The more empathetic their nature, the<br>more emotional brain activity there was. </p><p><br></p><p>It was not "emotional contagion," like how one person's yawn can<br>set a whole room to yawning, because the women could see only their<br>partner's hand, Singer said. Instead, the women were using the same<br>brain areas that anticipate one's own pain. </p><p><br></p><p>In the second study, volunteers put inside MRI machines had<br>either electric shocks or heat applied to the arm. The pain activated<br>all the expected neural pathways, researchers from the University of<br>Michigan and Princeton University reported. </p><p><br></p><p>Then, researchers smeared on a cream they said would block the pain. In fact, it was a regular skin lotion. <br></p><p><br></p><p>When the volunteers were zapped again, they reported<br>significantly less pain — and pain circuits in the brain showed they<br>really felt better. Those were the same brain regions that respond to<br>painkilling medication. </p><p><br></p><p>Then researchers spread on cream again, this time telling the volunteers it was a placebo — and they hurt all over again. <br></p><p><br><table align="left" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="1%"><br><tbody><br><tr valign="top"><br><td width="99%"><br><br></td><br><td width="5"> </td></tr></tbody></table><br></p><p><br></p><p><br></p><p>Doctors long known have known the placebo effect is real. It is<br>one reason that they talk up the benefits of a drug as they write the<br>prescription. But the effect has been assumed to be psychological,<br>Levine said. </p><p>The study provides "a novel and important insight into the<br>fact that placebo is in fact due to a physiological attenuation of the<br>pain signal," he said. </p><p>As for empathy, Singer now is studying whether people can sense a stranger's suffering as much as a loved one's. <br></p><p>Is empathy a learned trait or a genetic one? Her study suggests<br>it is a completely automatic response that varies merely in its degree,<br>meaning it probably is hard-wired into our brains through evolution. </p><p>After all, Singer said, empathy serves two important survival<br>functions: bonding between people, especially mother and child, and the<br>ability to predict others' actions, such as whether someone in pain is<br>a threat.). It's probably only necessary to read the first two or three<br>paragraphs to completely understand what it's about, but I put the<br>rest in there anyways. It somewhat pertains to my normal Micah<br>complaints, and how maybe listening to people isn't a good thing. Well,<br>I call bullshit. It's not unhealthy to listen to other people unless<br>you're a greedy, selfish whore. Or maybe I misread it. </p><p><i>darker secrets come into play ... I know I'll be just in time to see you running away</i></p>]]><br></content:encoded></p><p><wp:post_date>2004-02-20 00:16:29</wp:post_date></p><p><wp:post_date_gmt>2004-02-20 05:16:29</wp:post_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status></p><p><wp:status>Private</wp:status></p><p><wp:post_type>post</wp:post_type></p><p><wp:original_xanga_id>65514933</wp:original_xanga_id></p><p></item></p><p><br>-<item></p><p><title/></p><p><dc:creator>helifino</dc:creator></p><p><pubDate>Wed, 14 Sep 2005 22:25:24 -04:00</pubDate></p><p><br>-<content:encoded></p><p>-<![CDATA[<table cellpadding="3" cellspacing="0" width="460"><br><tbody><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="#d6deff">1. When do you think you will die? </td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="white">Sometimes I can see myself living to be old enough<br>to be a grandfather, but sometimes I can't see myself out of my<br>thirties, so it really depends. </td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="#d6deff">2. How, specifically, do you think you will die? </td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="white">"Naturally". Or maybe I'm just hoping that. </td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="#d6deff">3. If no pain were involved, what would be the best dramatic death for you? </td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="white">No physical pain? Maybe jumping from a plane before it explodes. Something sort of dramatic. </td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="#d6deff">4. What 5 songs would you like played at your funeral (besides the usual funeral music)? </td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="white">Nothing in particular, except maybe Weezers' 'Only in Dreams' and They Might Be Giants' 'Doctor Worm, just because. </td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="#d6deff">5. If only one person could show up at your funeral, who would it be? </td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="white">My brother John, maybe. </td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="#d6deff">6. Okay, now who else would be there? </td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="white">Only people that really knew me. No one needs to<br>"pay their last respects" for someone they once said 'hey' to in the<br>hall at school. </td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="#d6deff">7. Who would you specifically NOT invite (you know, if you were planning your own funeral)? </td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="white">It's their fault if they sctually want to come. </td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="#d6deff">8. Buried, creamated or other? </td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="white">Creamated</td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="#d6deff">9. Where would you like to be buried, your ashes strewn or other? </td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="white">The roof over my kitchen, but whoever makes the<br>toss should maybe stand between those doors, and maybe while it's<br>snowing so the ashes dissappear almost immediately... that'd be<br>interesting.</td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="#d6deff">10. Who or what would you give your life to defend? </td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="white">Anybody that means something to me.</td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="#d6deff">11. As of now, who would your possessions go to?</td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="white">Friends and family would get priority in choosing<br>whatever it is they want to get their hands on, but I wouldn't really<br>want anything thrown out, so maybe some stuff could be donated, if it's<br>worth anything. </td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="#d6deff">12. What are your views on suicide?</td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="white">I guess I understand that people who kill<br>themselves can't handle whatever emotional problems they're facing, as<br>long as they don't take anybody with them. </td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="#d6deff">13. Do you believe in the afterlife, heaven, hell, reincarnation, etc.? </td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="white">Not right now. I think people are selfish, though,<br>because we have fairly complicated minds, i think, so we can think<br>this stuff up, and then believe in it. We are no better than any other<br>animal or plant, we just happen to be more advanced. So do they<br>have Gods and Heavens, also? </td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="#d6deff">14. What do you think would be the last thought that ran through your head? </td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="white">I know I'm forgetting something.</td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="#d6deff">15. If you had one week to live, what would you do, and where would you go to die? </td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="white">I would talk to everybody I am still in, or have<br>lost, contact with over time. I wouldn't tell anybody about the dying<br>part, though. I don't know where I would go to die.</td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="#d6deff">16. If death is a natural part of life and something totally inevitable, why are we so afraid of it? </td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="white">We think we're special and that there is an<br>afterlife for us. But we're not completely convinced that there is, so<br>we're afraid of what we don't know. Like Wesley Snipes' sexuality. </td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="#d6deff">17. If you had your way, how would you spend the time after death? </td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="white">Dead. </td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="#d6deff">18. Are you okay? Sorry to be so morbid. </td></tr><br><tr><br><td bgcolor="white">No, but it's ok. </td></tr></tbody></table>]]><br></content:encoded></p><p><wp:post_date>2004-02-19 19:34:32</wp:post_date></p><p><wp:post_date_gmt>2004-02-20 00:34:32</wp:post_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status></p><p><wp:status>Private</wp:status></p><p><wp:post_type>post</wp:post_type></p><p><wp:original_xanga_id>65418965</wp:original_xanga_id></p><p></item></p><p><br>-<item></p><p><title/></p><p><dc:creator>helifino</dc:creator></p><p><pubDate>Wed, 14 Sep 2005 22:25:32 -04:00</pubDate></p><p><br>-<content:encoded></p><p>-<![CDATA[<font size="2"><br><p>When you snap, when you go insane, that's probably pretty wild. But<br>I think the scariest part is going to sleep that night and then waking<br>up knowing you are still crazy.</p></font>]]><br></content:encoded></p><p><wp:post_date>2004-02-19 00:43:54</wp:post_date></p><p><wp:post_date_gmt>2004-02-19 05:43:54</wp:post_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status></p><p><wp:status>Private</wp:status></p><p><wp:post_type>post</wp:post_type></p><p><wp:original_xanga_id>65261860</wp:original_xanga_id></p><p></item></p><p><br>-<item></p><p><title/></p><p><dc:creator>helifino</dc:creator></p><p><pubDate>Wed, 14 Sep 2005 22:25:39 -04:00</pubDate></p><p><br>-<content:encoded></p><p>-<![CDATA[<p>If you're religious, then please, tell me if I'm wrong: Most people<br>with beliefs somewhere near Christianity go to Church just about every<br>Sunday. I get that part, the worshipping part and the prayers and<br>everything. What I don't understand is how there can be happy songs<br>with people singing and smiling and just cheery all around. I'm mean<br>come on. If I knew that I was being judged, I would be a little bit<br>nervous. </p><br><p>On a lighter note, I am unofficially fucked. By tomorrow, I need to<br>have written a song, lyrics, music, everything, and be ready to perform<br>atleast part of it. I know I will be too afraid to sing it to myself in<br>my room, so I'm scared to death to know that people I don't know will<br>hear my voice for the first time when I first hear it. I have some<br>decent music down, but they're power chords, and I don't know the names<br>of those, besides the two that Alvin told me today. </p><br><p>I have written each of these paragraphs at different times this<br>evening, and my emotions have made U-turns by the time I've gotten back<br>to the computer. These are the weird kinds of U-turns, though, because<br>I have landed, psychologically, in completely different places each<br>time. Throughout the day I have been tired, sick, inspired, let down,<br>confused, irritated, and most other emotions that aren't normally let<br>loose every day. Fuck it, I need to go hit something.</p>]]><br></content:encoded></p><p><wp:post_date>2004-02-18 22:27:56</wp:post_date></p><p><wp:post_date_gmt>2004-02-19 03:27:56</wp:post_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status></p><p><wp:status>Private</wp:status></p><p><wp:post_type>post</wp:post_type></p><p><wp:original_xanga_id>65220320</wp:original_xanga_id></p><p><br>-<wp:comment></p><p><br>-<wp:comment_content></p><p>-<![CDATA[you've written songs for CT right? just use one of those. and when you're performing, imagine you're in your room practicing by yourself. i know it's easier said than done....but you get my drift.]]><br></wp:comment_content></p><p><wp:comment_approved>1</wp:comment_approved></p><p><wp:comment_date>2004-02-18 22:59:00</wp:comment_date></p><p><wp:comment_date_gmt>2004-02-19 03:59:00</wp:comment_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_author>karebearquack</wp:comment_author></p><p><wp:comment_author_email>bounce@xanga.com</wp:comment_author_email></p><p><wp:comment_author_url>http://karebearquack.xanga.com/</wp:comment_author_url></p><p><wp:comment_user_id>0</wp:comment_user_id></p><p><wp:comment_xanga_user_id>1695598</wp:comment_xanga_user_id></p><p><wp:comment_parent>0</wp:comment_parent></p><p><wp:comment_type/></p><p><wp:comment_id>113258832</wp:comment_id></p><p></wp:comment></p><p></item></p><p><br>-<item></p><p><title/></p><p><dc:creator>helifino</dc:creator></p><p><pubDate>Wed, 14 Sep 2005 22:25:47 -04:00</pubDate></p><p><br>-<content:encoded></p><p>-<![CDATA[<p>I don't mean to be an obnoxious metaphoric emo-bitch, but up until<br>yesterday, I saw through my having to wear glasses. I was staring at<br>the mirror yesterday, because I'm a weirdo, and all of a sudden it was<br>like something was in the way. But when I take them off, I can't see<br>the mirror clearly at all. I don't know how I managed to trick myself<br>into not noticing them for some 13 odd years. </p><br><p>So I got invited to a party this Saturday. Gabe told me about it,<br>and I'm gonna make sure to be there. Rob(thewell), Kristen, Annelise,<br>Monica, and everyone else that matters will be there. Now for<br>directions to Pilsen...</p>]]><br></content:encoded></p><p><wp:post_date>2004-02-17 16:37:02</wp:post_date></p><p><wp:post_date_gmt>2004-02-17 21:37:02</wp:post_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status></p><p><wp:status>Private</wp:status></p><p><wp:post_type>post</wp:post_type></p><p><wp:original_xanga_id>64831852</wp:original_xanga_id></p><p><br>-<wp:comment></p><p><br>-<wp:comment_content></p><p>-<![CDATA[<P>"espérez que vous êtes heureux [with how ridicorously crazy this looks]"</P><br><P>if you wanted to say "i hope you're happy ...etc" to me you'd say</P><br><P>j'espere que vous etes heureuse</P><br><P>plus all those accent things that i don't feel like taking the time to do.</P><br><P>esperez is commanding someone to hope.</P>]]><br></wp:comment_content></p><p><wp:comment_approved>1</wp:comment_approved></p><p><wp:comment_date>2004-02-17 21:27:00</wp:comment_date></p><p><wp:comment_date_gmt>2004-02-18 02:27:00</wp:comment_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_author>karebearquack</wp:comment_author></p><p><wp:comment_author_email>bounce@xanga.com</wp:comment_author_email></p><p><wp:comment_author_url>http://karebearquack.xanga.com/</wp:comment_author_url></p><p><wp:comment_user_id>0</wp:comment_user_id></p><p><wp:comment_xanga_user_id>1695598</wp:comment_xanga_user_id></p><p><wp:comment_parent>0</wp:comment_parent></p><p><wp:comment_type/></p><p><wp:comment_id>112767589</wp:comment_id></p><p></wp:comment></p><p><br>-<wp:comment></p><p><br>-<wp:comment_content></p><p>-<![CDATA[tear*** im not going. does that mean i dont matter??? tear*]]><br></wp:comment_content></p><p><wp:comment_approved>1</wp:comment_approved></p><p><wp:comment_date>2004-02-18 18:25:00</wp:comment_date></p><p><wp:comment_date_gmt>2004-02-18 23:25:00</wp:comment_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_author>mynameisbevin</wp:comment_author></p><p><wp:comment_author_email>bounce@xanga.com</wp:comment_author_email></p><p><wp:comment_author_url>http://mynameisbevin.xanga.com/</wp:comment_author_url></p><p><wp:comment_user_id>0</wp:comment_user_id></p><p><wp:comment_xanga_user_id>2883569</wp:comment_xanga_user_id></p><p><wp:comment_parent>0</wp:comment_parent></p><p><wp:comment_type/></p><p><wp:comment_id>113119518</wp:comment_id></p><p></wp:comment></p><p></item></p><p><br>-<item></p><p><title/></p><p><dc:creator>helifino</dc:creator></p><p><pubDate>Wed, 14 Sep 2005 22:25:53 -04:00</pubDate></p><p><br>-<content:encoded></p><p>-<![CDATA[<p>"We were all holiday babies.  Our parents seemed to be horniest<br>on when there was a break from work.  I was the Valentine's Day<br>kid, the lucky one.  My sister was the Christmas<br>child.   Hank was the Thanksgiving baby, and William,<br>ironically, was the Labor Day feat of labor.  As for Scott, well,<br>we're not French, but a couple of us celebrated Bastille Day in 1987."</p><br><p>That, up there, is my brothers' profile on AIM. I know it doesnt<br>take long to subtract 9 months from a birth date, but still, he must be<br>pretty bored down there in Louisiana, especially when i read him<br>reminding himself almost daily of how he regrets joining the Air Force.<br>I know he is lonely. </p>]]><br></content:encoded></p><p><wp:post_date>2004-02-16 22:48:43</wp:post_date></p><p><wp:post_date_gmt>2004-02-17 03:48:43</wp:post_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status></p><p><wp:status>Private</wp:status></p><p><wp:post_type>post</wp:post_type></p><p><wp:original_xanga_id>64680912</wp:original_xanga_id></p><p></item></p><p><br>-<item></p><p><title/></p><p><dc:creator>helifino</dc:creator></p><p><pubDate>Wed, 14 Sep 2005 22:26:06 -04:00</pubDate></p><p><br>-<content:encoded></p><p>-<![CDATA[<font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial"><br></font></font></font></font><p><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial">THREE THINGS THAT SCARE ME<br>01 - control<br>02 - height<br>03 - spiders</font></font></font></font></font></font></p><br><p><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial">THREE THINGS I DON'T UNDERSTAND<br>01 - people<br>02 - school<br>03 - conservative reasoning</font></font></font></font></font></font></p><br><p><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial">THREE THINGS I'D LIKE TO LEARN<br>01 - self-control<br>02 - how to live comfortably without moving<br>03 - perseverance.</font></font></font></font></font></font></p><br><p><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial">THREE THINGS I AM WEARING RIGHT NOW<br>01 - "jumper"(my jacket)<br>02 - jimmy tee<br>03 - adidas socks</font></font></font></font></font></font></p><br><p><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial">THREE THINGS ON MY DESK<br>01 - computer<br>02 - vitamins<br>03 - water</font></font></font></font></font></font></p><br><p><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial">THREE THINGS I WANT TO DO BEFORE I DIE<br>01 - save someones life<br>02 - not be a liability to my family<br>03 - raise a kid or two</font></font></font></font></font></font></p><br><p><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial">THREE WAYS TO DESCRIBE MY PERSONALITY<br>01 - elitist<br>02 - open ears/arms<br>03 - confining</font></font></font></font></font></font></p><br><p><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial">THREE BAD THINGS ABOUT MY PERSONALITY<br>01 - elitist<br>02 - stubborn<br>03 - <i>politician</i></font></font></font></font></font></font></p><br><p><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial">THREE PARTS OF YOUR HERITAGE<br>01 - preserving the past<br>02 - big ass family<br>03 - thanksgiving</font></font></font></font></font></font></p><br><p><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial">THREE THINGS I LIKE ABOUT MY BODY<br>01 - my cavles<br>02 - my height<br>03 - my eyes</font></font></font></font></font></font></p><br><p><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial">THREE THINGS I DON'T LIKE ABOUT MY BODY<br>01 - my height<br>02 - my feet<br>03 - my hands</font></font></font></font></font></font></p><br><p><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial">THREE THINGS MOST PEOPLE DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU<br>01 - probably something i<br>02 - don't want them<br>03 - to know</font></font></font></font></font></font></p><br><p><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial">THREE THINGS I SAY THE MOST<br>01 - what a dork<br>02 - fucker<br>03 - i will stab you</font></font></font></font></font></font></p><br><p><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial">THREE PLACES YOU WANT TO GO<br>01 - thailand<br>02 - alaska<br>03 - africa or england</font></font></font></font></font></font></p><br><p><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial">THREE NAMES THAT YOU GO BY<br>01 - scott<br>02 - schott<br>03 - elmo</font></font></font></font></font></font></p><br><p><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial"><font size="2"><font face="arial">THREE SCREEN NAMES YOU HAVE OR HAD<br>01 - caucaznemoboy<br>02 - jonniebananaseed<br>03 - lets burn pants</font></font></font></font></font></font></p>]]><br></content:encoded></p><p><wp:post_date>2004-02-15 17:37:22</wp:post_date></p><p><wp:post_date_gmt>2004-02-15 22:37:22</wp:post_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status></p><p><wp:status>Private</wp:status></p><p><wp:post_type>post</wp:post_type></p><p><wp:original_xanga_id>64299436</wp:original_xanga_id></p><p><br>-<wp:comment></p><p><br>-<wp:comment_content></p><p>-<![CDATA[more like "scottie" w/ a scottish accent]]><br></wp:comment_content></p><p><wp:comment_approved>1</wp:comment_approved></p><p><wp:comment_date>2004-02-15 18:52:00</wp:comment_date></p><p><wp:comment_date_gmt>2004-02-15 23:52:00</wp:comment_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_author>mynameisbevin</wp:comment_author></p><p><wp:comment_author_email>bounce@xanga.com</wp:comment_author_email></p><p><wp:comment_author_url>http://mynameisbevin.xanga.com/</wp:comment_author_url></p><p><wp:comment_user_id>0</wp:comment_user_id></p><p><wp:comment_xanga_user_id>2883569</wp:comment_xanga_user_id></p><p><wp:comment_parent>0</wp:comment_parent></p><p><wp:comment_type/></p><p><wp:comment_id>111834766</wp:comment_id></p><p></wp:comment></p><p></item></p><p><br>-<item></p><p><title/></p><p><dc:creator>helifino</dc:creator></p><p><pubDate>Wed, 14 Sep 2005 22:26:13 -04:00</pubDate></p><p><br>-<content:encoded></p><p>-<![CDATA[Honestly, you'd think I could improve over the span of a whole year.<br>Year 1: Me, Aaron, and Danny, having dinner at Clarke's, on<br>Valentine's, despite going to the OIL Compilation show. I hate how I<br>have let Hallmark get to me, but last year will never repeat<br>itself. I swear to hell. But honesly, Year 2 isn't forecasting anything<br>of the good sort. I need help in life. It's not even emotional help. I<br>could use a 'Help' button on my browser to guide me through everything,<br>and take it one step at a time so I don't get a chance to leave myself<br>behind. And another thing: just where did I go wrong? My whole persona<br>seemed to change as I entered high school. I didn't necessarily change<br>to fit in, because I don't think this was a voluntary change. It wasn't<br>on purpose, anyways. I was the King of worthwhile conversations<br>throughout 7th and 8th grade. Sarah and Vi and I were a team. Now I<br>couldn't hold down a decent conversation to save my life. Once my<br>stupid 'time to make a "clever" remark'-side kicks in I embaress myself<br>immediately. I need to control what comes out of my mouth. And there I<br>go with another 'I need to control...' line in my diary. Jesus<br>Christmas, why can't I just shut the fuxk up?]]><br></content:encoded></p><p><wp:post_date>2004-02-14 01:35:38</wp:post_date></p><p><wp:post_date_gmt>2004-02-14 06:35:38</wp:post_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status></p><p><wp:status>Private</wp:status></p><p><wp:post_type>post</wp:post_type></p><p><wp:original_xanga_id>63906430</wp:original_xanga_id></p><p><br>-<wp:comment></p><p><br>-<wp:comment_content></p><p>-<![CDATA[<P>I have no idea what the hell I want to say, need to say, should say, or actually end up saying half the time...So yeah, I turn into an idiot too. No worries - the world is full of idiots. :)</P><br><P><STRONG>"Are you gonna live your life standing in the back looking around?</STRONG></P><br><P><STRONG>Are you gonna waste your time?</STRONG></P><br><P><STRONG>Gotta make a move or you'll miss out." -Jimmy Eat World</STRONG></P><br><P>As for changing in high school, I think it is involuntary because we're growing up and being exposed to new ideas, things, and people. However, what is voluntary is deciding whether or not you like who you're changing into. After my breakdown the other night, I've decided I'm sick of who I'm becoming and am trying, somewhat successfully, to achieve things that are important to me. I hope you find the motivation to do the same (if that's what you want).</P><br><P>And while that <STRONG>HELP </STRONG>button sounds like a good idea, it'd be no fun. To be lead through life in hopes of making no mistakes would be horrible - how are we to know what's right if we never know what's wrong?</P><br><P><STRONG>"Marlin: I promised I'd never let anything happen to him.<BR>Dory: Hmm. That's a funny thing to promise. <BR>Marlin: What? <BR>Dory: Well you can't never let anything happen to him. Then nothing would ever happen to him. Not much fun..." -<EM>Finding Nemo</EM></STRONG></P>]]><br></wp:comment_content></p><p><wp:comment_approved>1</wp:comment_approved></p><p><wp:comment_date>2004-02-15 00:22:00</wp:comment_date></p><p><wp:comment_date_gmt>2004-02-15 05:22:00</wp:comment_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_author>toomuchfreetime</wp:comment_author></p><p><wp:comment_author_email>bounce@xanga.com</wp:comment_author_email></p><p><wp:comment_author_url>http://toomuchfreetime.xanga.com/</wp:comment_author_url></p><p><wp:comment_user_id>0</wp:comment_user_id></p><p><wp:comment_xanga_user_id>845618</wp:comment_xanga_user_id></p><p><wp:comment_parent>0</wp:comment_parent></p><p><wp:comment_type/></p><p><wp:comment_id>111578856</wp:comment_id></p><p></wp:comment></p><p></item></p><p><br>-<item></p><p><title/></p><p><dc:creator>helifino</dc:creator></p><p><pubDate>Wed, 14 Sep 2005 22:26:20 -04:00</pubDate></p><p><br>-<content:encoded></p><p>-<![CDATA[Deep thoughts on hold while Danny comes over. Will you be my Valentine?<br>I'm just kidding, I'm kidding... but will you? And I've got a spare<br>ticket to tuesdays Bulls game, which will go to Waste(Danny's new<br>nickname) if none of you kids yell at me for even considering somebody<br>else.]]><br></content:encoded></p><p><wp:post_date>2004-02-13 18:13:38</wp:post_date></p><p><wp:post_date_gmt>2004-02-13 23:13:38</wp:post_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status></p><p><wp:status>Private</wp:status></p><p><wp:post_type>post</wp:post_type></p><p><wp:original_xanga_id>63791920</wp:original_xanga_id></p><p></item></p><p><br>-<item></p><p><title/></p><p><dc:creator>helifino</dc:creator></p><p><pubDate>Wed, 14 Sep 2005 22:26:28 -04:00</pubDate></p><p><br>-<content:encoded></p><p>-<![CDATA[<p>So I was in the shower this morning thinking about the erin milligan<br>band song 'left behind', and I thought about how I seem to get left<br>behind in most of the things I do. I get left behind in pretty much<br>everything that has to do with learning at the same pace as most other<br>people. I ran these thoughts through and through, up and down, left and<br>right, back and forth, and finally, like being hit by a brick wall, I<br>decided that it was me that had been leaving myself behind all these<br>times. My laziness, me letting my focuz go elsewhere, me, me, me. This<br>is not greed, though, even with all the times I've mentioned myself. I<br>don't think this is flirting with self-pity too much, either. This is<br>probably me realizing yet another problem that I have with myself(like<br>all the self-references?). I should stop sharing these realizations<br>with people so I don't develope a reputation for being all talk because<br>of how I never really fix any of these problems. </p><br><p>I am listening to the Postal Service in hopes of starting a dance party. I am the only person to show up.</p>]]><br></content:encoded></p><p><wp:post_date>2004-02-12 20:55:48</wp:post_date></p><p><wp:post_date_gmt>2004-02-13 01:55:48</wp:post_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status></p><p><wp:status>Private</wp:status></p><p><wp:post_type>post</wp:post_type></p><p><wp:original_xanga_id>63587073</wp:original_xanga_id></p><p><br>-<wp:comment></p><p><br>-<wp:comment_content></p><p>-<![CDATA[i'll come to your dance party! i love the postal service.]]><br></wp:comment_content></p><p><wp:comment_approved>1</wp:comment_approved></p><p><wp:comment_date>2004-02-13 19:43:00</wp:comment_date></p><p><wp:comment_date_gmt>2004-02-14 00:43:00</wp:comment_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_author>toomuchfreetime</wp:comment_author></p><p><wp:comment_author_email>bounce@xanga.com</wp:comment_author_email></p><p><wp:comment_author_url>http://toomuchfreetime.xanga.com/</wp:comment_author_url></p><p><wp:comment_user_id>0</wp:comment_user_id></p><p><wp:comment_xanga_user_id>845618</wp:comment_xanga_user_id></p><p><wp:comment_parent>0</wp:comment_parent></p><p><wp:comment_type/></p><p><wp:comment_id>111077216</wp:comment_id></p><p></wp:comment></p><p></item></p><p><br>-<item></p><p><title/></p><p><dc:creator>helifino</dc:creator></p><p><pubDate>Wed, 14 Sep 2005 22:26:35 -04:00</pubDate></p><p><br>-<content:encoded></p><p>-<![CDATA[<p>"More like the movie where the guy meets a smart girl who wears a<br>lot of sweaters and drinks cocoa. They talk about books and issues and<br>kiss in the rain. I think something like that would be very good for<br>him, especially if the girl were unconventionally beautiful. They are<br>the best kind of girls, I think."<strong> -The Perks of Being a Wallflower</strong><br></p>]]><br></content:encoded></p><p><wp:post_date>2004-02-10 23:37:22</wp:post_date></p><p><wp:post_date_gmt>2004-02-11 04:37:22</wp:post_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status></p><p><wp:status>Private</wp:status></p><p><wp:post_type>post</wp:post_type></p><p><wp:original_xanga_id>63144984</wp:original_xanga_id></p><p></item></p><p><br>-<item></p><p><title/></p><p><dc:creator>helifino</dc:creator></p><p><pubDate>Wed, 14 Sep 2005 22:26:44 -04:00</pubDate></p><p><br>-<content:encoded></p><p>-<![CDATA[<p>I feel bad today. Sad, but mostly bad. I woke up and noticed the<br>Christmas present Henry gave me, unwrapped but unopened, on my table in<br>my room. He's only 8, and those Jewel Cases were what, $10? That<br>completely blows my mind, especially thinking about it now. And believe<br>me, my parents wouldn't just give him money to be my and everyone else<br>in the family presents. I can't believe how ungrateful I am of so much.<br>Damnit. </p><br><p>My Grandparents, out of their good nature, have also made me feel<br>bad today. They gave me $50 for Christmas, as usual, and I still<br>haven't written a 'thank you' note telling them how much I really did<br>appreciate it. So today, I found an envelope in the mail with my name<br>on it, and theirs in the return-address corner. They send me little<br>newspaper clippings and other things they think I might find<br>interesting, so I was just expecting something like this. No, it was a<br>Valentine's Day card with $20 inside of it. Ridiculous how much these<br>people care about me. And now I have no reason to think that they<br>neglect to think of me at the most unthinkable times. They're getting<br>old, so I don't want to pass up what could be my last chance to show I<br>care about them. I don't need to be like Kiel...(Kiel told his father<br>he loved him, for the first time, within the hour before his dad was<br>gone)... </p>]]><br></content:encoded></p><p><wp:post_date>2004-02-09 21:53:26</wp:post_date></p><p><wp:post_date_gmt>2004-02-10 02:53:26</wp:post_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status></p><p><wp:status>Private</wp:status></p><p><wp:post_type>post</wp:post_type></p><p><wp:original_xanga_id>62852001</wp:original_xanga_id></p><p><br>-<wp:comment></p><p><br>-<wp:comment_content></p><p>-<![CDATA[oh thats so sad. once u read this i think u should go to walgreens and buy a card for them. put a stamp on it and mail it.]]><br></wp:comment_content></p><p><wp:comment_approved>1</wp:comment_approved></p><p><wp:comment_date>2004-02-10 19:06:00</wp:comment_date></p><p><wp:comment_date_gmt>2004-02-11 00:06:00</wp:comment_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_author>mynameisbevin</wp:comment_author></p><p><wp:comment_author_email>bounce@xanga.com</wp:comment_author_email></p><p><wp:comment_author_url>http://mynameisbevin.xanga.com/</wp:comment_author_url></p><p><wp:comment_user_id>0</wp:comment_user_id></p><p><wp:comment_xanga_user_id>2883569</wp:comment_xanga_user_id></p><p><wp:comment_parent>0</wp:comment_parent></p><p><wp:comment_type/></p><p><wp:comment_id>109850354</wp:comment_id></p><p></wp:comment></p><p><br>-<wp:comment></p><p><br>-<wp:comment_content></p><p>-<![CDATA[<P>don't wait to contact the grand-'rents. I lost my grandmother last year and I wish I had said more to her and been more grateful...it's not worth waiting.</P>]]><br></wp:comment_content></p><p><wp:comment_approved>1</wp:comment_approved></p><p><wp:comment_date>2004-02-10 20:38:00</wp:comment_date></p><p><wp:comment_date_gmt>2004-02-11 01:38:00</wp:comment_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_author>toomuchfreetime</wp:comment_author></p><p><wp:comment_author_email>bounce@xanga.com</wp:comment_author_email></p><p><wp:comment_author_url>http://toomuchfreetime.xanga.com/</wp:comment_author_url></p><p><wp:comment_user_id>0</wp:comment_user_id></p><p><wp:comment_xanga_user_id>845618</wp:comment_xanga_user_id></p><p><wp:comment_parent>0</wp:comment_parent></p><p><wp:comment_type/></p><p><wp:comment_id>109894332</wp:comment_id></p><p></wp:comment></p><p></item></p><p><br>-<item></p><p><title/></p><p><dc:creator>helifino</dc:creator></p><p><pubDate>Wed, 14 Sep 2005 22:26:51 -04:00</pubDate></p><p><br>-<content:encoded></p><p>-<![CDATA[<p>a. john comes back home tonight.</p><br><p>b. i made a vow to myself that i'd be up when he arrives. </p><br><p>c. i need him.</p><br><p>d. i woke up late again today.</p><br><p>e. i can't seem to drag my ass out of bed on these non-school days.</p><br><p>f. i don't know how i do it every other day.</p><br><p>g. i did manage to have a weird dream about going to see senses<br>fail, whom i despise, and having some guy tell me that he wanted my<br>shirt, which was the Fredonia cross country shirt... the long-sleeved<br>faded one. I told him "no, you were never on that team" but he recapped<br>his whole life before my eyes anyways. he remembered his life like he<br>were a girl, and i didn't find that odd during the dream. Also, his<br>memories were from like the 1800's, which was pretty crazy. Then I was<br>at Osco, which, in this dream, was right next door to the Metro. Osco<br>caught fire, so we decided to go to the show. I was leaning off the<br>edge of the Metro, and the flames were coming closer every time i<br>looked back. i told Micah I'd meet him at Osco. Then I did, and that's<br>all I remember.</p><br><p>h. and somewhere i heard that dreams only occur for about 5 minutes at a time. how does so much get done?</p><br><p>i. after my haircut, i went to Tomato Head and met my brothers. </p><br><p>j. i had a piece of pizza before Micah and Christina and Maggs came. </p><br><p>k. then we got our tickets from Mrs. Swenson, and we went to the game.</p><br><p>l. the demons beat Marquette, 61-59, on a near last-second shot.</p><br><p>m.as for now, i will clean my room and read my books. retal. </p>]]><br></content:encoded></p><p><wp:post_date>2004-02-08 18:55:34</wp:post_date></p><p><wp:post_date_gmt>2004-02-08 23:55:34</wp:post_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status></p><p><wp:status>Private</wp:status></p><p><wp:post_type>post</wp:post_type></p><p><wp:original_xanga_id>62531931</wp:original_xanga_id></p><p></item></p><p><br>-<item></p><p><title/></p><p><dc:creator>helifino</dc:creator></p><p><pubDate>Wed, 14 Sep 2005 22:26:59 -04:00</pubDate></p><p><br>-<content:encoded></p><p>-<![CDATA[<p>I dreamt a lot last night, and I didn't wake up in time for neither<br>Danny nor Micah. I dreamt that Zach and I were in NFL Europe, but<br>without tackling. Karen and Kelsey held my coat while I went in to<br>play, and Zach was the Quarterback. Then, after I dropped a few of<br>Zachs passes, because the ball was dusty, Zach threw the ball over the<br>fence... the fence in my neighborhood, by the basketball hoop, and it<br>hit a car passing by, but didn't interrupt the cars driving. I had some<br>others that I only remember bits and pieces from, but the other I<br>remember more clearly isn't sitting very comfortably with me was about<br>my uncle who died some two years ago this June and my Grandmother, Nan<br>nan, who isn't doing too well herself right now. Uncle Billy was alive,<br>and so was my Grandmother, but not for long. I was told that by the<br>time I got to them, they'd be gone. I guess this reminded me of how<br>much control I don't have. I know I still have a lot of regrets that<br>tag along with memories of my uncle, so that alone didn't help<br>anything. As for my Grandmother, she's still alive, but not too<br>well. Sickness wise, she's clean as a bean. But her body seems to be<br>crumbling. She's fallen a few times over the past year, and hurt<br>herself, usually her ankle, each time. I feel about about that... I've<br>been meaning to write her a letter so she knows that I care and don't<br>just pay attention to her for thr Christmas presents. </p>]]><br></content:encoded></p><p><wp:post_date>2004-02-07 22:03:46</wp:post_date></p><p><wp:post_date_gmt>2004-02-08 03:03:46</wp:post_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status></p><p><wp:status>Private</wp:status></p><p><wp:post_type>post</wp:post_type></p><p><wp:original_xanga_id>62320124</wp:original_xanga_id></p><p></item></p><p><br>-<item></p><p><title/></p><p><dc:creator>helifino</dc:creator></p><p><pubDate>Wed, 14 Sep 2005 22:27:10 -04:00</pubDate></p><p><br>-<content:encoded></p><p>-<![CDATA[<p>a. do you remember what bruce willis told the kid to do in the Sixth<br>Sense? the thing where you just write whatever comes to mind on a piece<br>of paper, and eventually you'll start writing beyond your controlled<br>thoughts? I swear I will try that, maybe this weekend. </p><br><p>b. i saw Barbershop 2: Back in Business tonight, with micah.</p><br><p>c. we saw aaron and danny and neil on the way there.</p><br><p>d. this after danny promised he wouldn't be anywhere near aaron. </p><br><p>e. soft spot? or liar?</p><br><p>f. danny and micah and neil and aaron and zach anger me oh so often. </p><br><p>g. lately, anyways. </p><br><p>h. i miss the old days, when i wasnt ashamed of sites like this: <a href="http://www.pahardcore.com/bands/bands.cfm?id=5623" target="_new">http://www.pahardcore.com/bands/bands.cfm?id=5623</a>.</p><br><p>i. speaking of sites, my "shows" site hasn't been updated in a fairly long forever(<a href="http://hildeguardog.diaryland.com/showses.html" target="_new">http://hildeguardog.diaryland.com/showses.html</a>.</p><br><p>j. i dissappoint myself. </p><br><p>k. so do others, and i to them. </p><br><p>l. i am now watching Bringing Out the Dead.</p><br><p>m. ya know, nicholas cage? </p><br><p>n. it's depressing, and it makes my brother want to be a paramedic.</p><br><p>o. kristen called my brother a slut. </p><br><p>p. maybe he is. or maybe he's a "player". i really don't care because i do care about him. </p><br><p>q. -why can't i be a musician or a writer or a comedian or something cool.</p><br><p>r. -<i>because you aren't dedicated, you aren't dedicated, you aren't funny, and you aren't dedicated enough</i></p><br><p>s is for scott. </p><br><p>t. <i>Don't wake me, I plan on sleeping in...</i></p><br><p>u. much needed sleep should be obtained tonight, if only i can get<br>myself under my sheets and blankets and leaning on my pillow. </p><br><p>v. but danny and micah will wake me up early, tomorrow. </p><br><p>w. (danny for "band" practice, and micah for the ex-lax)</p><br><p>x. in guitar class, we were supposed to bring in a song that we<br>think has good structure, and i guess well written, or maybe that got<br>to us a little bit deeper down than any typical song you'd hear. </p><br><p>y. i brought the weakerthans and the stereo. i've kinda grown a big<br>emotional callous to left and leaving, and the stereo is more fun that<br>deeply moving.</p><br><p>z. i am no longer owned by a sole band so much that i would worhip their every movement just for unknowingly knowing me. </p>]]><br></content:encoded></p><p><wp:post_date>2004-02-07 02:20:42</wp:post_date></p><p><wp:post_date_gmt>2004-02-07 07:20:42</wp:post_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_status>open</wp:comment_status></p><p><wp:status>Private</wp:status></p><p><wp:post_type>post</wp:post_type></p><p><wp:original_xanga_id>62145952</wp:original_xanga_id></p><p><br>-<wp:comment></p><p><br>-<wp:comment_content></p><p>-<![CDATA[t - i love the postal service and you quoted my favorite song of theirs.]]><br></wp:comment_content></p><p><wp:comment_approved>1</wp:comment_approved></p><p><wp:comment_date>2004-02-07 21:22:00</wp:comment_date></p><p><wp:comment_date_gmt>2004-02-08 02:22:00</wp:comment_date_gmt></p><p><wp:comment_author>toomuchfreetime</wp:comment_author></p><p><wp:comment_author_email>bounce@xanga.com</wp:comment_author_email></p><p><wp:comment_author_url>http://toomuchfreetime.xanga.com/</wp:comment_author_url></p><p><wp:comment_user_id>0</wp:comment_user_id></p><p><wp:comment_xanga_user_id>845618</wp:comment_xanga_user_id></p><p><wp:comment_parent>0</wp:comment_parent></p><p><wp:comment_type/></p><p><wp:comment_id>108660121</wp:comment_id></p><p></wp:comment></p><p></item></p><p><br>-<item></p><p><title/></p><p><dc:creator>helifino</dc:creator></p><p><pubDate>Wed, 14 Sep 2005 22:27:19 -04:00</pubDate></p><p><br>-<content:encoded></p><p>-<![CDATA[<font size="2"><font face="arial"><font face="arial" size="2"><br><p>1. What is your Full Name? scott. <br>2. What Color pants are you wearing now? black<br>3. What are you listening to now? hey mercedes<br>4. What are the last 2 digits of your phone number? 16<br>5. What was the last thing you ate? una banana<br>6. If you were a crayon what color would you be? sparkly black<br>7. How is the weather right now? cold. slushy. <br>8. Last person you talked to on the phone? horace<br>9. The first thing you notice about the opposite sex? hair, maybe<br>10. Do you like the person who sent this to you? no one sent it; i stole it from little kristen, but i like her just fine.<br>11. Are you happy today? i'm crabby. what else is new?<br>12. Favorite Drink? pepsi<br>13. Favorite Alcoholic drink? jack daniels<br>14. Favorite sports? basketball, baseball<br>15. Hair Color? varies<br>16. Eye Color? i think green or something<br>17. Do you wear contacts? no<br>18. Siblings? two younger brothers, an older sister, and an older brother<br>19. Favorite Month? may<br>20. Favorite food? anything, but i suppose i prefer pizza<br>21. Last Movie you watched? he got game<br>22. Favorite day of the year? i’ve never had one day be consistently good or bad for mare than two years in a row.<br>23. Are you too shy to ask someone out? probably not.<br>24. summer or winter? summer<br>25. Hugs or Kisses? hugs<br>26. Chocolate or Vanilla? chocolate<br>27. Do you want your friends to write back?</P> <p>1:44 p.m. - Wednesday, Apr. 18, 2018<br> </p> <p>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p> <p><a href="180418_48.html" title="previous entries">previous</a> - <a href="index.html" title="next entries">next</a></p> </td> <td width="17" height="15"></td> <td width="1" rowspan="3" valign="top" bgcolor="#333333"><table width="1" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"> <tr> <td width="0" height="565"></td> </tr> </table></td> <td width="22"></td> <td width="244"></td> <td width="38"></td> </tr> <tr> <td height="409"></td> <td></td> <td valign="top"><table width="100%" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="diaryentry"> <!--DWLayoutTable--> <tr> <td width="244"> <p><a href="index.html" title="my latest entry">latest entry</a></p> <p><a href="http://members.diaryland.com/edit/profile.phtml?user=hildeguardog" title="view my DiaryLand profile">about me</a></p> <p><a href="older.html" title="read my older entries">archives</a></p> <p><a href="http://members.diaryland.com/edit/notes.phtml?user=hildeguardog" title="leave me a note or read notes others have left">notes</a></p> <p><a href="http://www.diaryland.com/" title="read other diaries, or get one of your own">DiaryLand</a></p> <p><a href="mailto:hildeguardog at diaryland . com">contact</a></p> <p><a href="http://members.diaryland.com/edit/random.phtml?user=hildeguardog" title="read a random entry of mine">random entry</a></p> <p>other diaries:</p> <p><A HREF="http://alkalinetrio.diaryland.com/">alkalinetrio</A><BR><A HREF="http://coldsnowden.diaryland.com/">coldsnowden</A><BR><A HREF="http://bsebastian.diaryland.com/">bsebastian</A><BR><A HREF="http://emodarling.diaryland.com/">emodarling</A><BR><A HREF="http://iamanemokid.diaryland.com/">iamanemokid</A><BR><A HREF="http://raininabag.diaryland.com/">raininabag</A><BR><A HREF="http://sebastian18.diaryland.com/">sebastian18</A><BR><A HREF="http://sneed.diaryland.com/">sneed</A><BR><A HREF="http://stellarhun.diaryland.com/">stellarhun</A><BR><A HREF="http://swtpea4evr.diaryland.com/">swtpea4evr</A><BR><A HREF="http://wallawina.diaryland.com/">wallawina</A><BR></p></td> </tr> </table></td> <td></td> </tr> <tr> <td height="141"></td> <td></td> <td> </td> <td></td> </tr> </table> </body> </html>