Novocain

One of the best thing's about having a Brother-In-Law who is a DJ is getting CD's as gift's. I mean, besides a good book or an Alan Rickman movie, there is nothing better than reciving a CD to me (unless of course I got Alan Rickman in the flesh, nothing could ever top that).

The last time Sarah and Josh visited, I recived a few CD's. Grits, Toby Mac, Pillar, amoung others.

He had also brought me a CD from this group I had never heard of, Olivia The Band. I had checked out their website and requested their cd, they seemed pretty good and I've heard very few band's that I don't like, so I picked them too.

I'm glad I did.

Their CD has quickly become my favorite and I listen to it constantly, and one of my favorite's is called Novocain, just look at the lyrics.

2 hours later and the movie it's over.
Painted pictures of murder and slaughter,
But no tear falls from my eye,
No pain deep down inside.
Feels like Novocain is running through my veins.
Why do I feel nothing?
Why can't I cry?
Bleeding victims I watch die,
Filtered through my eyes,
Blood turns white, turns white.
Brodcasters relive and retell the story,
Countless accounts of children with no familys.
Mommy's, they leave their babies,
Babie's die by Mommy.
With a blankly stare,
Somehow I don't care.
Emotion is dead.

Ya'll should really check them out, their music is amazing and their lyrics are increadible.

They have a myspace which you can get to here,
www.myspace.com/oliviatheband

or you can just go to their site,
www.oliviatheband.com

I did it again!

I did it again! That's the fourth post I have deleted in the past three days. Don't know why I do it, perhaps i'm afraid of looking like an idiot? No, that can't be it. I always look like an idiot, I wear overalls and flipflops and sweatshirts all the time, how could I not look like an idiot?

Well, school will be starting soon, and I may leave for Galveston this saturday if we can get $100 by then. I know it sounds silly, but my mother hasen't had a vacation in three years, since our last Galveston trip, unless you count the funeral's we've been to. She really need's this trip more than anyone. The past two years have been hellish, one disaster after another, dotted with wonderful little miracles here and there. She's so stressed out, she need's a chance to relax. She grew up by the beach, granted Florida is better than Galveston, but you should see how it calm's her and relaxes her. She need's this trip more than anything right now. If you could just pray that we get one of those wonderful little miricles right about now, that would be great. They always seem to come right when we need them, and I just pray that this will be one of those times.

Anyway, school is starting soon which means I have to take Senior Pictures.

Oy!

I never thought this day would come, honestly. I mean I always knew it would, and I have been waiting for it all my life, but I never acutaly realized that it would come. I think I might faint!

Well, I hate taking pictures, so I'm thinking of just having this as my senior picture.

What do you think? It is my leg after all.

Oh and there is a story behind this picutre. You see, I was painting in my room yesterday, and I was waiting for this one particular box to dry, so I decided to paint on my leg. Don't know why, but it sounded fun at the time, still does. I couldn't think of anymore shape's to put on my leg's so I started writing words. I put Toymakers Dream (wonderful movie), Say Anything (another wonderful movie), S.A.S.M. (title of one of my stories), Bohemian Vanity (another of my stories), C.B. heart's M.S. (don't ask), I Love Lucius Malfoy (Death Eater in Harry Potter), and finally I Love Snape (Professor in Harry Potter) and I Love Alan Rickman (Best actor EVER and guy who play's Snape). I thought my leg's looked quite funny, so I took some pictures.

I am known on MySpace as the Snape/Alan Rickman lover, and most of my friends on that site are fellow Snape/Alan Rickman lovers. So, I decided to put those two picutres together and post it on myspace. I recived a few lovley comments about that too. The paint did come off, sort of, but my leg's are somewhat stained and you can still see some of the writing.

Anyway, on a much lighter note, I recived a few extremly lovely reviews today, some of which actualy made me cry. This was one of the one's that made me cry, " I think you have a really professional writing style and you definitely sell some books if you wanted to."

*sigh* gotta love reviewers :)

Anyway, please pray that we get the money. We also invited two other people to join us, and it would be terrible to say that we couldn't go. We thought we would have the money by now, because a month ago are finnances were looking up, but of course something else came along.

My Little Angel

Well, I thought about it for a while, and I decided, why not. I've decided to post the very first bit of a story I wrote about my mother (my birth mother, not the one you all know). It's sort of short, but read it and tell me what you think.



It was a surreal moment. Time stopped, the world ceased to spin, and her eyes refused to open. She felt her best her best friend squeeze her hand in reassurance. This moment, this one moment, could possibly be the defining moment in her life. What that little piece of plastic had to say could ruin her forever, and her eyes refused to open. She prayed harder than she ever had in her life, at that one moment. Then, taking in an impossibly deep breath, she opened her eyes.

It was positive. She was pregnant.

Her jaw dropped to the floor, and her heart stopped in her chest. Sure, she had figured that she was, she hadn’t had her period in two months, her breasts felt tender, and she had been throwing up for days, but she had always clung to that shred of hope that she was simply lucky. Tears sprung to her eyes as she continued looking at the pregnancy test. What if it was faulty? What if it simply messed up? She shook her head. It was foolish to think that way. She was pregnant and she knew it.

Tears flooded her cheeks and her vision quickly became blurry. She felt Gabby’s arms wrap around her and pull her close. She still couldn’t believe that this was all happening. She was fifteen years old for goodness sakes! How could this be happening?

She wasn’t able to put together a coherent thought or word for over an hour. She simply cried in her best friend’s arms, listening to the song that Gabby was humming. It was what her mother sang to her whenever she was upset. The soothing melody worked wonders and soon she wiped the tears from her eyes and sat on her own. Her body was shaking still, and her face was tingling, but she had stopped crying. Now wasn’t the time for tears. She had a decision to make.



So, tell me what you think, leave a comment.

I will never be

I'll never be like some of the people on here. I doubt I will ever have thought provoking blogs. I will never be able to bear my soul for all to see. I won't write a blog that you will think about for day's to come. Nothing I ever hope to publish will ask for a radical change in the way that we live our lives. I doubt I will ever put scripture or mention God in what I post. This blog will never be something that people will want to visit every day, or keep them on pins and needles for an update. I doubt this will even be something that people comment on, seeing as how it is rare when I recive one. I will not try to be any of those things. I will not pretend to think one way. I will strive to be uplifting or thought provoking. Be sure that, on the off chance, that something like that may occour, that it will be entirley accidental.

Having said that, it will be intresting to see what post's I end up coming up with. I don't think I will post to much more of the Chruch. Every time I have posted about that on here, it always sounds a bit whiney. In fact, most of the things that I post sound whiney. I don't like that, I don't like that at all. When someone whines, it is normally to gain sympathy, which I don't want, or to recive encouragement, which I don't need. So from now on, my post's will not be whiney, no worries.

The Name

bas·tard (bstrd)
n.
1. A child born out of wedlock.
2. Something that is of irregular, inferior, or dubious origin.

Well, I'm not trying to give you a vocabulary lesson, no worries, I have now decided on a name for my blog. Technically it isn't a real word, but it has been one of my nickname's for a while. Now why would I want that as my blog name? Because it is what I am. It is something that I will always be, and nothing can change that. Besides, it's better than the other one's I've had, right?

Anyway, there isn't much left to say except that Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince comes out in FOUR FREAKING DAYS! AHHHh! I can't wait! It is going to be absolutley INCREADIBLE!

Summer Camp

Well, it is now official, I am going to summer camp.

oy.

Most of this year and last, I loathed the thought of ever having to go on YIM tour or to Summer Camp ever again, and even though I missed everyone while they were away on YIM, I was very relived in the end that I hadn't gone.

It all pretty much stems from my experiences last summer.

On YIM, I had decided to purchace a thing of black nail polish, and proceeded to wear it for most of the tour. Had I known the trouble that would cause, I would never have touched the stuff. You see, the rest of the trip I kept getting bugged about my choice of nail color and even some of the clothes I wore that were a little less, well, colorful. I even had a discussion in the dorms with two of my friends about it, venting a bit of my frustration. Both of my friends acted like they were completly supportive and even said that they liked it. But the next day I overheard a group of girls, including one of the girls I had talked to, talking about me. It wasn't very nice. That went on for most of the rest of tour, and I hated the looks I would get.

After YIM was, of course, Summer Camp, which ended up being a million times worse. My team didn't really like me, and they forgot about me completely on numerous occasions, which is part of the reason I blessed the fact that I had horrible cramps and couldn't participate in the games the second two days. I still recived looks every so often, and now I belive I know why. It also didn't help that I had to share the cabin thing with a certain person, who not only got juice all in the girls half of the cabin, but left the room every time I so much as poked my head in. The adults wern't peachy keen either, or at least a couple of them wern't. I was forced to have a few uncomfortable talks with them, the only thing I ever added to the conversation being "uh huh" and "yeah". It also didn't help that my best friend was being sort of distant and half the time I didn't speak to anyone. Besides, I was also missing a boy from home like crazy and I was worried he would realize that he was making a mistake and that when I got home he would never want to see me again.

To say the least I didn't get anything spiritual from either trip, not that I was actualy trying to. I watched the people around me and I was furious and frustrated. The very people that called themselves Christians were talking bad about me, the very people who called themselves my friends were ignoring me and accusing me of being involved with Wicca, and a couple months of bad looks and whispers behind my back pushed me a bit over the edge.

So much has happend over this past year, it makes my head spin just to think about it. No worries, I'm not going to post any of it, after all, I don't need people to worry about me even more.

But you see why I wouldn't ever want to go to either functions ever again, but then why am I going to summer camp? Good question; I don't really know.

Part of me wants to go just to see if it will be any diffrent from last year, and I pray it is. Part of me also wants to go to prove to everyone that they have nothing to worry about. You see, it turns out, people have actualy been worrying about little ol' me and I have no idea why! I am perfectly fine. While I am a billion times more reserved than I ever used to be, it's due to the fact that I spend most of my free time at home, alone, usually for nine/ten hours ever week day a four/five on the weekends. Not that i'm complaining though. I'm not the best at making conversation and I never know what to do, so i'm glad that I get to stay home and write.

So that is why I am going to summer camp, so that I can hopefully stop people from worrying about me. I don't like it, espically when there is no reason to and they don't tell me about it.

I just hope it will be diffrent from last year. I don't think I would be able to force myself to come another year if this was simply a repeat. I don't exactly feel like crying in the dark on the steps of the boy's side of the cabin again. Besides, it will make being away from the boy that much harder.