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[Aug. 25th, 2010|12:29 pm] |
Journal Example
i hate when people cop out and want to say they have nothing to write about. ASK ME QUESTIONS!!!1!1!111! (even though i did meet one of my best friends that way. lane holla at ya girl!) no. are you serious? are you that blind? so blind you cant see what's going on around you? life is what you make it and if you're bored, then you're boring. you shouldnt need some one to keep you entertained all hours of the day. you know what this is? this is the internet. and with it you have the entire world at your finger tips. or you know what? you could go outside. lay in the grass while it's still there. look at the sky. count clouds. pick flowers. though i wouldn't from the flowerbeds on campus. they get pushy about that shit. there's a whole world waiting for you to discover it if you use a little imagination. that's the problem though. tv has killed imagination. why read the book when if you just wait a few months a movie will come out based off of the book. why use your own brain when there are people who can think for you. some times you got to change how you perceive the world. change isn't bad. that's how we got where we are. we'd still be naked running around in africa if we hadn't changed. actually nix that we'd be extinct as fuck if we hadn't changed. if you believe that route. if you want to go to biblical way, we'd still be living in paradise. which ever paradise you believe in. this isn't to argue region i'm just saying. change, it happens. but when do you start to change too much? or for the wrong reasons? i'm of the school of thought that believes in honest above all else. yeah i joke and i say some stupid bullshit but i don't lie about important shit. you ask me something straight up and you're going to get my straight up answer. you might not like how i think but at least you can know i'm not bullshitting you. that's really how i feel about it. i'm me take it or leave it. but what if there's shit you want to change, for what ever reasons? how to do you do it? and how do you know if it's really you and not you trying to bullshit? one simple question: does it make you happy? now, here is where it gets confusing. does it make you happy. you. as an individual. if you answer "well i do it to make so-and-so happy and making them happy makes me happy" then you need to reevaluate your priorities. you are your number one. now i'm not saying be a crazy selfish cunt. there's a time and a place for selfishness and selflessness. i'm all about my people. there isn't shit i would deny some one i care about. i'd rip my own fucking heart out for them if they needed it. because without friends and family life's too damn boring. but some times you have to be selfish. you got to know when you've crossed that line and you start to become some one's fucking puppet. their tool. you start changing the clothes you wear, the music you listen to, the way you act just to suit them. to fit their lifestyle. little changes arent bad. but trying to remold the very fiber of who you are as a person? no. now i can understand shit like not shaving your junk because who ever your with likes some decorative shrubbery and that's cool. but you know, it's your downtown. and some times you just got to handle your business and they need to accept that. personally, i enjoy a dude who manscapes. especially if he expects his girl to trim the hedges. it doesn't need to be porn star bald but well groomed. at least fucking washed correctly. come on guys! you can't expect a girl to go down on a toxic waste dump. especially if you're going to freak out over her spicy tuna roll. really i think it just comes down to how much is too much? |
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[Mar. 1st, 2010|11:56 pm] |
AIM Example
Example 1
Trey was actually a little excited to meet some one new. He felt like he had the other at a bit of a disadvantage since he sort of knew who he was. Well, if you call the rambles of a bookstore clerk reliable. But he want the only one to mention Seven to him. Mostly he was eager to see just how much like the other he looked to have been mistaken as him. He had on a light blue and white bottom up shirt with a pair of little wash skinny jeans that hugged his hips. they were held in place with a white studded belt, his feet covered with white converse, the indie shoe of choice. He'd fixed his hair, ruffled from lounging in bed. He'd picked glasses over contacts for the day and grabbed his messenger bag before following the directions to Seven's.
As soon as Seven heard someone's footsteps, he sat up in his chair, letting his feet down. For the day he'd opted out on his glasses and worn his contacts so that he could wear his aviators later when he went into the studio. He let out just the softest of yawns as he pushed himself to stand up. He didn't even look for the noise of the footsteps he'd heard, because he'd assumed that if it was Trey, he'd make himself known as soon as he saw Seven. Seven brought a hand up to his messy hair and ran his fingers through it, making a face at the feeling of the gunk that was coming off in his fingers and he moved to wipe his hand on his pant leg. He had no idea that Trey had met Jon, let alone that Trey looked anything like him. If Seven had known this, he probably would of been more wary of meeting the other, knowing full well that Jon wanted to kill him, or at least inflict harm on him.
Example 2
The gold lamé tube dress was so tight on Mason's body it very well could have been painted on. The black trim fabric glued to her skin for the effect of real clothing. The idea was actually very appealing. Or would have been if it wasn't below freezing outside. As much as Mason liked to be naked, she wasn't very fond of cold. Being cold. Being cold and wet was the worst.
It didn't matter. She'd layer. A jacket and leggings to the party. She'd loose the leggings once they got there. Stuff them in the pocket of her coat. No harm. Luckily the dress was spandex and stretched out over the extra fabric. Not that there was much of it. Sitting on the edge of her bed, Mason worked her foot into a pair of black six inch stilettos. She would like it more once the leggings were off.
Mason had never really been the type to dress up just for the hell of it. There was usually a reason behind it. But on a Friday night, dressing to the nines was a must. She didn't want the bar scene. She wanted the club. She wanted to look and feel even more fierce than she did on the daily. The gold and black eye make up helped bring the look together. Even her unruly hair was cooperating, curling perfectly to be left down and polish off the look as Mason polished off her third vodka tinted with apple juice compliments of the 7/11 night clerk.
It didn't take much to get Mason drunk. She knew that. But, she could keep on drinking longer than some people twice her size. And she handled her alcohol better. Mason could be to' up from the flo' up, but she could still walk. She wasn't one of those bitches passing out in random places. Their friends having to carry them off. No. Even drunk as fuck, Mason could conduct herself like a lady. Yeah, she might be dancing like a damn fool on any one who will let her, but that didn't mean she was going to be blowing them in a bathroom later.
She had just sat the glass down when she saw Gabe. Had she not been feeling groovy, he would have scared her. But instead she laughed as she found herself thrown over a shoulder. Had she not had the leggings on, the world would have been exposed to her panties.
"Ah! Wait, wait wait!" she laughed, arms locked tightly around his middle. "I need a jacket and my bottle!" Mason pressed her face into his back as she laughed hysterically. The only person to ever throw her over his shoulder was her father and it had been years, at least ten, since he'd even tried. That didn't make it any less fun. |
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