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We all have something to believe in. [14 Apr 2006|08:46pm] [ mood | good ] What happens when what you thought was real all your life, turns out to be fake? Like when you still believed in the tooth fairy and santa and the easter bunny. when we're children, our minds become molded by the stories and thoughts of our elders and of those who surround us. It's like learning to speak, you mimmick what you hear. In this case, you believe what you hear because you don't know any different. But as we get older, the truth comes out and you find yourself somewhat hurt by the new information being taken in. Santa isn't real. The tooth fairy is fake. There's no such thing as the easter bunny. We've all heard it before. We've all been there before. And as we get older, we forget how to believe. We forget about the magic and our childhood fantasies. Our imagination is replaced by our tightly scheduled days and our sleepless nights. If you think about it, it's actually quite depressing because you end up going through life with nothing to believe in. I believe in God. I believe in pro-life. I believe in you. Ok, sure. But those are real issues. What about the magic we had lost so very long ago? Why not say every once in a while, "I believe in magic." Or, "I believe in fairies." Even if people laugh at you, you're still filled with some kind of a belief. And then there are those who believe in absolutely nothing. I find this simply impossible because there are two things a person like that must believe in...the belief that there is nothing to believe in...and the belief of love. Those who do not love, do not believe. Those who do not believe, do not live. live, love, believe. 2 pour your heart out if you wish

Things I've Heard this Week... [21 Dec 2005|02:35pm] [ mood | relaxed ] [ music | I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas ] Common thoughts and questions that run through almost every student's mind at school... *Will this bring my grade down/up? *What did you get for that answer? *Where the heck did I put my pencil? Oh, it's behind my ear. *Do you have a pencil I could borrow? *Can I have a piece of paper? *Who farted? *Ahh, who let off the stink bomb at lunch?! *Did we have homework in Fontana's class? Yea. Are you going to do it? No. *How was the psych test? *Senorrrrrrrrrrrrrr! *Why are teachers so gay? *Why does the new vending machine come on at like 1:00? *Is there a test on Monday? *Did you study for the test? *Shoot me... *I'm going to shoot myself... *I hate this class. *I wish my guidance councellor would call me in... *5 more minutes until the bell rings... *How many more days until Christmas Vacation? *How many more days until Summer Vacation? *How many more days until I graduate? if you wish

[17 Dec 2005|03:27pm] Name: Torie Elizabeth Therese Bunzell Birthdate: August 12, 1989 Birthplace: Springvalley, IL. Current Location: Utica, IL. A.K.A. Town of Taverns Eye Color: Blue-Green? Hair Color: light brown Height: 5'11" Piercings: ears, cartilage, belly button Tatoos: tattoo, lower back=tribal tattoo Boyfriend/Girlfriend: yes Overused Phraze: geekburger FAVORITES Food: there's too many, i can't pick just one. Candy bar: not really a big fan of candy-bars Number: 7 and 11 Color: turqoise Animal: horse or dog Drink: lemonade or milk Bagel: chocolate chip with strawberry cream cheese Letter: R Body Part on Opposite sex: Eyes. This or That Pepsi or Coke: don't really like soda McDonalds or BurgerKing: mcdonalds Strawberry or Watermelon: watermelon Hot tea or Ice tea: ice tea Chocolate or Vanilla: chocolate Hot Chocolate or Coffee: hot chocolate Kiss or Hug: bear hugs, but kisses from matt Dog or Cat: dog Summer or Winter: summer Scary Movies or Funny Movies: hm...i like the thrill in scary ones Love or Money: love YOUR... Bedtime: i'd say around 10 Most Missed Memory: when life was taking naps and coloring Best phyiscal feature: i like my eyes...but that's just me... First Thought Waking Up: oh my gosh...i need to start going to bed earlier. Goal for this year: get iowa university to notice me Best Friend: my doggyyy Fears: spiders...gross Heritage: polish, italian, slovenian Longest relationship: 10 months and counting.. HAVE YOU... Ever Drank: i'm sorry to say, but yes Pot: heck no Ever been Drunk: most definitely not Ever Shoplifted: not that i can remember... Ever Kissed Opposite sex: yes Been Dumped Lately: no...? IN A GUY/GIRL Favorite Eye Color: blue or green Favorite Hair Color: does it matter? Short or Long: long and curly Height: taller than 5'11" Looks or Personality: i'd have to say personality can make a person attractive Hot or Cute: ???? Drugs and Alcohol: neither Muscular or Really Skinny: muscular RANDOMS Number of Regrets in the Past: i'm not sure... What country do you want to Visit: Italy How do you want to Die: peacefully... Been to the Mall Lately: yes Do you like Thunderstorms: thunderstorms are my favorite Get along with your Parents: when i pitch good Health Freak: i love food too much to care Believe in Yourself: yes Want to go to College: don't want to do anything else Do you Smoke: no Do you Drink: no Shower Daily: well... Been in Love: yes Do you Sing: very badly, yes Want to get Married: yes Do you want Children: right now, no, but maybe later Have your future kids names planned out: yes, two boys, Damon, Xander, Evan, Noah, or Gavin Age you wanna lose your Virginity: is there an age limit? Hate anyone: i don't think i ever could. 1 pour your heart out if you wish

nice to meet you [08 Dec 2005|08:21pm] [ mood | bouncy ] hello, i'm the girl you might fear every once in a while. my size is often intimidating, as well as my loud voice that seems to carry quite well, but i want you to know that i like you. i'm the girl who sometimes drives too fast even when she's not in any particular hurry, who sometimes cheats on tests, who likes to "diet" every week, and who likes to take off her shirt when she scores a goal in advanced soccer. i'm the girl who dreams big, makes up stories to go along with stupid things, makes up songs having to do with a kid named "ben" or government, and likes to make boys flinch. i'm the girl who thinks bragging is wrong, as well as lying and having her boyfriend weigh less than her. have you met a girl who prefers a truck over a car? unless of course, it's a nova, her dream car. how about a girl who promises to never give you a dull moment? i bet you've never met a girl who decides to pierce her own ear 10 minutes before she leaves for school. Her favorite flower is the poppi, she loves to snuggle, she hates clothes because she always gets tangled up in them, and would someday love to be surprised beyond all belief someday. she's the one who responds to every insult with the comeback, "...in bed!" don't be frightened if she decides to randomly sit down in the middle of the mall or some hallway because she's bored. and don't think she's crazy when you see her trying to imitate a cheerleaders every move (even when she's not cheering) during a football game. don't think she's dumb because she's not as smart as you. she's smart in her own way because she knows a lot about nothing at all. don't make fun of her when she gets excited about teeth, and don't get offended when she starts yelling at you for complaining about a toothache that you have, for, she's been through a lot in her mouth. don't question her, for, not even she knows what she's going to say or think next. but most importantly, don't question her heart because that is as true and pure as can be. if you wish

[24 Nov 2005|05:45pm] [ mood | loved ] [ music | Moonlight Sonata ] it's hard to find just the right words to say to you in certain situations. so instead of talking let's just share an understood silence. the kind that let's us both know that there is some kind of bond between us. in times of grief... in times of grief and sorrow i will hold you and rock you, and take your grief and make it my own. when you cry, i cry, and when you hurt, i hurt. and together we will try to hold back the floods of tears and despair and make it through the potholed streets of life. in times of love... The best love is the kind that awakens the soul and makes us reach for more, that plants a fire in our hearts and brings peace to our minds, and that's what you've given me. That's what I hope to give to you. in times we don't think we'll make it... So it's not gonna be easy. It's gonna be really hard. We're gonna have to work at this every day, but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you, for ever, you and me, every day. Will you do something for me, please? Just picture your life for me? 30 years from now, 40 years from now? What's it look like? just don't take the easy way out. and in times when i just don't know what to say... i love you. if you wish

[28 Oct 2005|06:45pm] her heart was as black as night, empty as an old box of cereal, and heavier than a ton of bricks. her eyes were blank, her hair was snarled, and she had a smell about her of ale. she was rejected, ignored, confused, and lost. but when she saw him, color would rush to her face, her heart would beat faster, and her eyes would shine. only he noticed her, only he could make her smile, only he could make her feel like she was worth a damn. but she was beautiful in his eyes, and he loved her. only with him, she knew what it was like to love and to be loved. he opened her up to a whole new world, something she had never known before. in their world, they always lived happily ever after... if you wish

[22 Oct 2005|03:44pm] [ mood | calm ] you're running away from some kind of shadow, you don't know what it is, you don't know if it even holds any kind of form, but you do know that it scares you. something about it just sends bad signals to you. you're too scared to turn your head to look at it because you're afraid you'll miss a step and fall...and it will catch up to you and consume you. something about that shadow scares the living daylights out of you. it's too quiet, it moves noiselessly, ever so steadily gaining on you as your body starts to fatigue. but perhaps it's not fatigue that's slowing you down. perhaps it's a thought, or a secret. perhaps it's the only reasonable thing to be scared of...fear itself. you're fear is weighing you down like a ton of bricks. suddenly, the bricks are moved to your chest where your lungs close up and your heart beat increases. you hear a rushing in your ears like the 11:00 freight train. and you finally look back. the shadow is directly behind you. you can't see a face, but you know it resembles a human shape. you see a light ahead of you. you tell yourself, "just a bit further." you reach the light and look behind you. suddenly, everything stops as you see what you were really running from. standing face to face with you, is everything you thought you knew...everything that resembles you...you discover you were only running from yourself. 2 pour your heart out if you wish

Wanna be on MTV? Here's how: [07 Oct 2005|11:32am] If you want to be on MTV, I have here the fool-proof way of doing so. Just follow these rules and you'll be our next home-town MTV star: -learn rap -wear skirts that are this big: _ -wear pants that can fit an ostrich in them along with yourself -wear white shoes that look like ships -get a cool name (flava flav, p-diddy, 50 cent) -be black -get really really rich to be on laguna beach or my super sweet sixteen -get some "bling bling" -get some "bling bling" that you need a crane to lift up and around your neck. -get a "pimped out" car, even though it looks like crap -learn how to sing through your nose (*hint* britney spears) -be a slut (*hint* britney spears) -make a music video that will never be shown because MTV never plays music videos anymore -remember to thank God when you win an award the MTV Video Music Awards *total cost: well, it will all be worth it when you get on MTV* 1 pour your heart out if you wish

[21 Aug 2005|07:29pm] [ mood | loved ] [ music | Strawberry Wine ] man, sometimes i just don't know where to begin. i have so many thoughts bouncing around in my head, that i find it hard to put them into any particular order. i know that more than half of you that are going to read this entry have the same problem, don't lie, i won't tell anyone. maybe i'm just having a brain fart? maybe i don't want everyone to know what's going on in my life. maybe i just can't put my words down. who knows. right now i suppose i'm stuck in my emotions. i'm stuck in a point of my life where i'm not quite sure how i feel about certain things. i guess what i'm more unsure of is whether i should be feeling like this or not. all i can do right now is wait things out, and see where things go from here. i'm sure everything will work out in the end, and i know it'll be a happy ending. *to be continued...* if you wish

another "remember when" for those who miss them... [04 Aug 2005|03:25pm] [ mood | pensive ] [ music | I Will Remember You ] remember when: -i did a remember when? -i did another remember when? -we shared a blanket this big -> _| ? -3 of us shared a blanket this big -> _| ? -we made up a SWEET hand-shake? -we kept arguing and then we forgot what we were arguing about? -we stole Hiest's car? -we gave Hiest a new name everyday? -we told the baseball players running the track to "MOVE!" -we forgot to unlock the door for Janz? -we had a pillow fight with pillows this big -> . ? -you said you wanted "to sit" for your birthday? -i said we needed to leave because my bracelet was breaking? -we hugged the easter bunny? -someone took a bite out your pizza, and you don't know who it was? -you only had one shoe on in the movies? -i wrote a note to you in all questions, then you wrote one in all answers? -i hit mrs. noard on the head with a balloon? -last one...we became such close friends? *weep not for, the memories.* 3 pour your heart out if you wish

drama in real-life tasks [22 Jul 2005|07:28pm] [ mood | weird ] you know what i find amazing? i love doing this, and you should really try it sometime, it's so much fun. alright, what you do is you pick any ordinary task or event and you commentate the process of doing that task or event. however, this is no normal comentating that you will be doing...your goal is to make this task or event seem soooo dramatic, soooo detailed, that the listener's attention is grasped firmly in your hands...you basically have them by the balls, if you know what i mean. you have to make it sound like the brushing of the teeth is the last thing you'll ever do, or the eating of the chip is the beginning of a newfound love. let me give you an example, because i absolutely love doing this. i'll always do this in the car with my mom, like when she wants to pass someone, and she can't help but laugh hysterically. i like to call this bit, "tying of the shoe." as i was going about my rapid physical activity, i happened to see my shadow cross the ground before me. upon seeing my shadow, i noticed my running shoes, the only shoes to best fit your...running. i happened to catch a glimpse of a free-spirited shoe-lace bobbing in rhythm with my long, even strides. an untied shoe. this could only lead to problems, i thought to myself. i stopped my pace and squated down with such speed that i nearly fell over. with my right foot in front of my left, i could easily reach the free lace. i took the red lace into my long, spidery fingers and twisted it for a better grip to complete my task. after doing the same with the other lace, i was ready. i then pulled the two laces tight and crossed them, one underneathe the other. i looped, and twisted, and pulled, and looped, and tightened until my task was complete...my shoe was tied. placing my hands on my sweaty thighs, i lifted myself. this lift required so much effort, that i realized i was tired. however, i continued my run. what do you think? not bad eh? hahaha! i love doing that. well, i hope you had fun reading that and i hope you try this at home. make sure to include DETAIL! good luck, and tell me how it goes...leave a comment. 4 pour your heart out if you wish

[19 Jul 2005|10:58am] [ mood | blank ] define love: 1. noun; the undying affection and bond of which one can speak of. "I discovered that the feeling I held inside was none other than love." 2. verb; the act of sharing one's undying affection and creating a bond with another person or object. "I love him." 3. verb (used unaffectionately); a feeling of great like towards an object that cannot love. "I love that new dress you bought last Saturday." 4. verb (used without full thought); an expression of appreciation, but nothing more. "Oh my gosh thank you for finishing my homework for me, I love you, you're the best!" basically, there are a lot of different ways one can use the term "love." i personally prefer definition number one, but that's just me. of course, we all use all of the definitions, but we'd all like to say the sentence of number one. but unfortunately, not all of us can. *i need a flower so i can peel away the pedals to the 'i love him, i love him not yet' tune* 3 pour your heart out if you wish

No words. [11 Jul 2005|05:29pm] [ mood | nauseated ] I am cold. Cold with age, cold with hate, cold with emptiness. It often feels as if my very bones are rattling beneathe my skin. With no muscle, or even fat, to keep me warm, I am left to huddling under thick blankets and quilts made for me by my wife. These blankets and quilts, along with numerous pictures and items, are all I have left of her. She was my blooming flower, the love of my life. I am cold. Cold with age--I am now 78 years old. Cold with hate--Will the Lord ever release me from his grudge? Cold with emptiness--I have nothing left. Most would say that I am a bitter old man pointing his finger at the world. I agree. Some would say that I am lost and have no direction left in my life. I agree. There are the ones that would say my anger comes with my ripe old age. I agree. Yet there are others that would say that would say I am simply lonely. I agree. What all these young and happy folks are saying is completely true, but there is another side, a side that I cannot simply say for fear of completely breaking down and ending up in a nut house. A side to me, to my life, to my reason of going on, and to my thoughts. A side of which I am about to finally share. Let me begin with saying that there is no simple way of telling this story. If I start with the very beginning, I would most likely die before I even came close to finishing. Is it not amazing how I can be sarcastic about dying? I suppose I am not afraid to die, I've been patiently waiting for nearly 30 years now. I made a promise. To her. I can not even begin to tell you the pain I am forced to endure every minute, every hour, every day. The expression, "...every waking hour," does not apply to me, for I feel pain even in my nightmares: In my nightmares, where I experience my most cherished, and hated memories. I relive my past, my mistakes, my victories, my defeats--all in an extremely short amount of time. I don't sleep much any more, I often wake to hysterical screams that I assume to be coming from the room next to mine, but I wake to find the screams coming from my own mouth. Simply torture. By now I'm sure you think that I am crazy, and you're already thinking what "the others" think. But please give me a chance, let me continue. My neighbor placed me in this nursing home. She was slowly aging and could not take care of me as easily as she did in the past. Having no family members, sons, daughters, or grandchildren to care for me, she took it upon herself to fulfill that duty. How I hate that woman. Being 72 at the time, I could not put up a fight worthy of holding my place in my house. I gave in. Every day for the last six years I say to myself...What would she think of her man now? What would she think of him? But I made a promise and I could not hold that promise without someone's help. That is why I am here. I was drafted. I had dreamt of that day since I was seven years old and playing "soldiers" in my back yard with Chris Robinson. I was strong enough, young enough, and determined enough to serve my country. However, I was not entirely ready to leave the newfound love of my life, no matter how temporarily my leave would be. Pat was my highschool sweet heart, but I made our love official on the day before I left for battle. The next day, Chris and I left our hometown and joined hundreds of other men our age in battle. I had been at war for nearly a month when I had received a letter from my grandmother. Back home, my parents and two sisters were lying dead in the ashes of our destroyed house. Let me paint a picture for you: The air is thick with smoke and dust, so thick that you can hardly see ten feet in front of you. A wretched scent reaches your nose and you scramble to cover it, but not before you unfortunately discover the source. Your eyes, watering from the smoke and dust, scan the ground where your friends and brothers lay dead. Their bodies will be bloated by morning. You see blood. You see destruction. But worst of all, you see your best friend lying dead amongst his enemies. His blood stains the ground around him. His head is almost detached and his torso is covered in crimson holes. This picture is what I see when I close my eyes every night. Chris was killed in battle. For the second time in my life, I was not there. Not a day goes by that I don't think, what if I was there? He wouldn't be dead, he'd be sitting next to me now making jokes about Mrs. Wilson's panties hanging on her clothes line. No more than two weeks later, I received another letter. Grandma was gone. She passed away in her sleep, simply floated off with all her worries left behind. Including me. I began crying at night. A grown man crying himself to sleep...Picture that. The hardest thing to imagine is large tears falling silently down the blackened face of a man that was hardened by war, leaving traces of the white and youthful skin he once knew. That is what it looked like. I suppose the only thing that kept me going was Pat. She continued to write to me weekly, sometimes more than once in a week. She would talk about the little things that didn't really matter. I could tell she wrote her letters with care to avoid a subject or person that might be hard on me. Though I say the little things she wrote about didn't matter, I don't mean it. Her letters made the difference between life and death. Though I never told her, she literally kept me alive. Let me tell you about her. Pat was the town beauty. She was beautiful in every way that makes a woman beautiful. God, when she moved I swear the sun would move in her direction. She gave off a radiance that turned heads. I always told her that she could light up a darkened room. She had an angelic body, not like one of those models you see on television today, but rather a soft and youthful shape. And those eyes, those rich brown eyes that made chocolate look fake, those eyes that made men go mad. Her whole life could be told by just looking into her eyes. Another pair of eyes like that will never exist. But the most attractive thing about Pat was her personality. She got along with everybody. I never knew Pat to raise her voice or narrow her eyes. She was funny, too and she sure wasn't afraid to prove it. When she would laugh, the whole world couldn't help but laugh with her. Her every movement was contagious. When she smiled, we all smiled with her. Her smile could persuade flowers to bloom and clouds to dissolve. She had a good heart. I believe Pat had a place for everyone in her heart. And I loved her. I loved her with everything I had, all my energy, all my emotion. What simply tickled me, was that she chose me and chose to love me back. America won, the war was over, we were sent home. I walked up to my darling girl and swept her into my arms, and we stood like for a long time. She kissed me all over and told me again and again how much she loved me. We both cried and laughed and thanked the Lord, and after that day we agreed to forget that we had been apart. However, it was not that easy for me. I had nightmares. I would wake up soaked in cold sweat and breathing deeply, reliving the memories from war: Chris's blood-stained body, James calling my name and begging for my help, Curt holding my hand and praying to God before he died. And when this happened, Pat would be there. She would hold me and talk to me, tell me everything was okay. And I would believe her. Three months after the war, Pat was pregnant with Christopher Michael Opinski. I remember dreaming of holding the tiny body in disbelief that I had helped to make such a beautiful son. Two months after Chris was concieved, he died. Pat was unable to give birth. Though time had passed after our son's death, there was still an emptiness left in our hearts. Emptiness...Mine had been growing since the death of my family. My heart beat only for Pat. It was Pat, not my heart, that kept me alive. Without her, I would be nothing--completely empty. I remember telling Patsy about my emptiness. I knew and she knew that she would never fully understand, but she made me promise that if something were to ever happen to her, that I would carry on. I promised with the thought that I would do everything in my power to keep my amazing wife alive. However, my power was soon tested. I realize I am skipping many parts of my life, like my marriage, my life after war, but this story is not meant to explain my life. It is meant to explain my feelings, my thoughts, and my torture. If you would like to know about my marriage, I'll tell you. It was bliss, simply bliss. Imagine waking up every morning to the most beautiful and amazing person you've ever laid eyes on. Imagine having no place particular place to go and no particular activities to complete. Imagine sitting on the porch swing every night holding eachother and talking about nothing at all, all the while staring up at the stars or down at the flowers. Imagine pure and complete happiness in every moment you have with your mate. That is what my marriage was like. War? War was hell, there's no other way of putting it. I could say that war was terrible and I'm glad I'm alive, but I will have no choise but to refuse to saying that. War was not only terrible, it was the scariest, hardest, longest time of my entire life. Although I am glad that I made it through war to be with my lovely wife, I was forced to relive every moment, every battle, every gunshot in my nightmares. I lived a life of paranoia and sadness, something that would never change, something that still remains to this day. A quick grammar lesson--War is the antonym of love. Let us continue. At age 43, Pat was diagnosed with tuberculosis. I spent two years watching my once strong and healthy wife weaken and deteriorate. She refused to give in, she tried to live a normal life, but after the first year, she no longer could. She spent most of her days sitting on the porch swing painting, reading, or watching me work. She would talk, sometimes almost to herself if I was not within hearing distance. But soon, she stopped talking and said almost nothing at all. She became thin and sickly. Her appetite disappeared. I would shudder to hear her breath, taking in air through long, weezing breathes. Her strength eventually waned, and she passed away. I kneeled alongside her bed as she took her last breathes and held her hand as she asked me if I remembered the promise I made. I nodded my head yes, unable to open my mouth for fear of sobbing. I remeber her grip tightening on my hand as she whispered, "I love you." I told her quickly (knowing the next few seconds were her last) that I loved her from the first time I saw her, from the first word we spoke. I told her that I loved her with everything I possessed and that I would never be able to love anyone like I loved her. And with my final words to her, she left me. I was completely and utterly alone. I realize that many people have lost ones they loved dearly, but to have so much loss in such little time is often unheard of. It is hard to say I've lived a life of happiness. Although my time with Pat was the most enjoyable experience I have had, that time was also filled with tragedy. The loss of our only son had a large impact on my life. The inability to create a new life with someone you love is the hardest thing I had to endure. The hardest thing, that is, besides losing Patsy. I hope you can see how much Pat meant to me and how she kept me alive. Again, by making me promise to go on without her, she has kept me alive. Although my time without her has been hell, I am almost restless with the thought of joining her in Heaven. There you have it, now you know my every thought and feeling. My reason for sharing this story is not simply because I am dying and wish to get it off my chest, but prove that life does go on, no matter how unbearable or miserable it is. This story, my story, proves that no matter how hard your life might be, you should not give in. Do not let a sour life turn you into a bitter old man or woman who is unable to love or be loved. Let life take you where it wishes and follow. Improvise, live on, and never forget the ones you love. After all, everyone goes somewhere when they die... 1 pour your heart out if you wish

saving you from all those stupid questions, hey did you get some? man that is so dumb... [08 Jul 2005|01:23pm] [ mood | bored ] i found this story on the internet somewhere...it was written by the guy in the story, but unfortunately, he died before he could finish it. i really liked it. it made me wonder why guys couldn't express themselves like this anymore, and why they can't be gentlemen. but it also made me realize how lucky i am. My name is Robert Donahue. I am 86-years old and the cramping in my wrinkled hands is proof of my old age. My hands, which were once so productive and full of youth, now resemble withered raisins—a disturbing image, but the truth. Throughout my many years of living, I have learned a most important detail of the human being: Humans are afraid of the truth. If truth were staring them directly in the eyes, they would not see it. I have concluded that the human being will do whatever it can to avoid truth, even deny it at times. How can I make such a conclusion, you ask? I shall tell you. It was 1945 and I had just had my twenty-sixth birthday. With no family or parents left, I was left to celebrating with my closest friends, and some of their friends. The party had taken place at Will Decker’s house, of who was my friend since I was two years old. The party had gone well into the night, and early the next morning. Guests came and went, drank and slept, danced and talked. Around midnight, I saw her walk through the door. She was the most beautiful figure I had ever lain eyes on. I watched as she walked smoothly around the room, almost gliding. I turned to Will and asked if he knew who she was. “Her? Ah, that there’s Kameron Patterson. Beauty, isn’t she?” he had said. I could not open my mouth to even mumble an agreement. He turned back to his beer and company, sensing my amazement. I watched her for the rest of the night. I studied her posture, the glow of her skin, the wave of her hair, the every movement of her body. I memorized her image so that later, when I closed my eyes, she would still be there. I would stay a proper distance away, but when she came near, my heart would flutter and my stomach would drop, as if one had skipped a step going down a flight of stairs. As the guests began to leave, she remained, as bright as ever. Finally, I raised enough courage to walk over to her and talk to her. As I approached her, the light scent of her perfume reached my nose, and breathed it in deeply. She smelled like summer, and winter, and good things combined. She turned around just as I approached and immediately flashed a smile. “Happy Birthday! You probably don’t know me, I came with a friend. I’m Kameron by the way, Kameron Patterson.” I took her outstretched hand, and placed it gently to my lips. She couldn’t help but giggle, and that relaxed me. “Bobby Donahue, the greatest pleasure in meaning you,” I said with a bow. Again, she giggled and shook my hand. Her laughter was deep, soothing, reassuring. I had never heard a laugh like that before. “Would you do me the honor, of dancing with me?” I asked politely. She gladly accepted and I led her onto the dance floor. Will, sensing my intentions, changed the record playing to suit my needs. As the beat slowed, I drew her close to me, grasping her small hand in my own. I stared deeply into her eyes. I had never seen eyes like hers before—a startling blue, almost silver. We whispered gently to each other as I turned her about across the floor. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. The song had finished and was replaced by a new fast song that I’d heard on the radio for the first time that very same day. We walked to a couch and sat down to continue our conversation. She sat close to me and I could feel the warmth of her skin against my own. We talked about everything—art, music, politics, education, love, life, family. She was amazingly intelligent and even humorous. I had met many girls that summer, but none amounted to what Kameron Patterson was. Again, all good things must come to an end. Her friend was leaving and Kameron had to leave with her. I walked her to her car where she stood for a moment, twiddling the keys in her hands. “When can I see you again?” I asked nervously. “Tomorrow.” “I’ll pick you up at 10:00 a.m. sharp. You’re staying at Lydia Ranson’s house, right?” “Yes. I’ll see you at 10:00.” And she got in her car and drove away. I could not sleep that night. Her image floated around in my head all night. When I closed my eyes, she was there. Her laughter continued to echo in my ears, long after our good-bye. Around 6:00, I got out of bed and went downstairs. I made myself breakfast before going outside to paint my weather-damaged porch. I finished the first coat by 8:00, and decided to save the second coat for the next day. I cleaned up my supplies and went inside to shower. I spent several minutes looking through my clothes before deciding upon a plaid shirt and blue jeans. I slipped on my nicest pair of boots and grabbed the keys to the truck on my way out the door. She was sitting on the front porch reading a book as I pulled up. She looked over the top of her sunglasses and smiled her beautiful smile. She set the book aside as I walked up to her and made space for me to sit on the stair. “So Mr. Donahue, what do you have planned for us today?” she asked curiously. “You’ll see.” I held out my hand and she quickly placed hers on my palm. I helped her up and led her over to my truck where I boosted her into the passenger’s seat. As I walked around the back of the truck, I breathed deeply. She was stunning in her pale yellow sun-dress and floppy sun-hat. Her golden hair was tucked neatly into a knot at the base of her neck where here dress was also tied. I started the truck and headed toward the country. There is a back road that leads to a secret lake in the country. Will and I had discovered it as youths, and named it our own. She stayed curious throughout the trip, asking me where we were going, what we were going to do. Finally, I pulled to a stop in front of a rusted old gate. We got out of the truck. Realizing that she was in a dress, hopping the gate clearly wasn’t an option. Seeing this, she took off her heels and threw them over the gate before stepping carefully on the bottom railing and launching herself over. I stood there in amazement as she picked up her shoes and faced me with a smile. We both laughed and I took her hand once again and led her to the lake. Earlier that morning, I had stopped by the lake to make sure everything was in order. I set a large blanket on the shore and hid a basket of food under a tree. As we approached, I placed my hands over her eyes explaining that I wanted to surprise her. I could feel her eyelashes tickling my fingers as she smiled and laughed. Finally, I removed my hands and let her take in her surroundings. She gasped at the sight of the vast lake and of the wild flowers surrounding her. She spotted the blanket and walked quickly over to it. “Why, it’s a picnic blanket!” she exclaimed. I retrieved the basket from under the tree and sat down next to her. I had prepared sandwiches, fruit, dessert, and wine. She held out her glass as I poured her wine and asked for a toast. “To nature. To love. To truth in every couple.” “A just toast.” We sipped at our wine and started our sandwiches. All the meanwhile, I could not take my eyes off of her. She had such a beauty and grace about her that she amazed me with every movement. Though her beauty was astonishing, her voice and laugh were calming. Her voice, like her laugh, was deep and smooth. It reminded me of a gentle sea. We spent most of the afternoon by the lake, talking and joking, sitting and observing. Finally, we packed up and headed back to the truck. The drive home was quiet, both of us appreciating the silence. We arrived Lydia’s house where we sat for a moment before I turned to her. “Did you have a good time today?” “Yes!” she said excitedly. “Are you sure?” “Yes, believe me, it was incredible!” “Alright, what are you doing tomorrow?” “Nothing particular.” “Would you consider having dinner with me at my house?” “Of course! What time do you want me over?” “How about…7:00?” “Sounds good.” And before she let herself out of the truck, she leaned over and placed a kiss on my cheek. I had finished painting the deck, gave Hamlet, my dog, a bath, and showered, and started dinner as she had driven up. I placed the towel on my shoulder and walked out to meet her. She was wearing a sky-blue sun-dress with a string of pearls that connected in the same place her dress tied. However, her long golden hair was hanging down her back, and it caught the light as she turned and moved. She greeted me with a quick kiss before walking inside. She was amazed by the old elegance of the house. Carvings and trim lined the walls and fireplace. Rich wood lined the floors, decked with thick rugs here and there. I gave her a quick tour before showing her to the sunroom, where we would be eating our dinner. I left her with a glass of wine and retreated to the kitchen. I came back with chicken, salad, and mashed potatoes—my specialties. “I’m not the best cook,” I said. “I think it looks wonderful. Would I lie about something like this?” For some reason, her voice always relaxed me and allowed me to put my faith in her. We dined and wined. After the main course, I brought out an apple pie that my neighbor, Mrs. Copper had made for the occasion. We helped ourselves and sat back feeling extremely full and sleepy when we finished. “That was excellent,” she said. “Why thank you.” We conversed a while longer before heading inside to the sitting room. I had started a fire, in front of which she immediately placed herself. I sat down beside her and felt my stomach lurch as her head rested on my shoulder. I kissed the top of her head. She snuggled in closer. Our eyes met, but closed as our lips moved closer together, finally touching. I woke up every morning for the next two weeks with a smile on my face. I woke up knowing that I would see Kameron. Our relationship was growing, blossoming. Summer turned into fall, but Kameron never left the little town. She moved into an apartment, though she spent most of her time at my house. One particular night still remains in my mind, almost as vividly as it had just happened yesterday. She stopped over after work with no intention of returning to her apartment. She met me on the porch and I could tell something was different about her. Her eyes were flashing in a seductive way and her smile was somewhat vacant. She pulled me out of my chair and pushed me playfully into the house. She ran into the sitting room and wrapped herself in a blanket in front of the fire. “Are you okay?” I asked with a smile. “Of course, why?” “You just seem…different.” “I’ve just realized something, that’s all.” “What?” “I don’t want to say yet.” And I left it at that. Evening faded into night as I sat and listened to her talk breathlessly into my ear. She seemed excited, the kind of excitement a child shows the night before Christmas. She left and returned a few minutes later with a bottle of wine and two glasses. “What’s the occasion?” I asked, quite curiously. “No occasion, I just want to be with you.” We drank almost the entire bottle in silence before she lay down beneath the blanket. I watched as her eyes slowly, gently closed, and then I watched the flames flicker in the fireplace. It was odd, how the flames danced about each other, cracking and splitting. Almost as if there was no end to them, as if they would crack and split and dance forever. I felt Kameron rustle under the blanket and turned to see her eyes fastened on my own. I leaned forward and kissed her tenderly. We released and she returned with a more passionate kiss. I felt the heat of our bodies in the air around me and the slight breeze of her breath in my ear. And as our eyes met once again, we made a silent agreement. I watched her as she slept, kissed her eyelids, her face, her shoulders. I watched the reflection of the flames dancing in the sweat beads on her skin. I watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Finally, her eyes fluttered open and she smiled. “I love you, Kameron. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to wake up every morning with you lying next to me. I want to dine with you every night. I want us to have children together,” I whispered. She nodded and closed her eyes, as if imaging a life with me. Then she smiled. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, I’ve never loved anyone like I do you. Let’s make life together. Kameron, will you marry me?” “Yes.” I saw a tear form in her eye, but it stayed there. It did not roll down her cheek, or trace the curves of her face. That tear was her honesty, never would it be shed, never wiped away. Now I suppose you’re wondering where truth comes into play in this story. Well, I’ve only told you the good parts. I’m sure you know by now that all love stories either end tragically, or the lovers live “happily ever after” in their cottage by the sea. A love story should never be taken lightly. Under the sappiness lays a truer meaning, a life lesson if you will. Now, Kameron sounds like a very…truthful…person, wouldn’t you agree? Well, I’ll let you decide if this love story is tragic, or “happily ever after”. 2 pour your heart out if you wish

[07 Jul 2005|11:02am] [ mood | loved ] [ music | Live Like You Were Dying---Tim McGraw ] tell me...if you had one week to live, what would you choose to accomplish in that week? if no limits were set, and the sky was the limit? i'll tell you what i would do. i would wake up each morning to the smell of pancakes browning on the oven. i would spend the first part of every day sitting in silence on the swing outside with my mom after breakfast. i would take millions of pictures. pictures of everything you can think of. i would spend every day with a different group of friends. i would do things with those friends that i've always wanted to do. go to magic waters just to play beach volleyball, have a camp-out in my back yard, sit and talk to catch up on things we'd missed. but perhaps i would never sleep. perhaps i would stay out all night. maybe i would buy a telescope and an astrology book and stare at the sky all night, finding every constellation in the stars. i would sit wrapped up in a blanket and watch the sun rise every morning, watch as neighbors woke up and started their days. i would go riding every day. i would take my horse and explore every place i've ever wanted to explore aback a horse. i would lay with you at night. i would curl up in the warmth of your arms and never feel scared again. i would feel weak in your strength, but i would be perfectly content. i would feel no pain. i would fall asleep next to you. and by the end of the 7th day, as i lay again in your arms, i would pray for that moment to last forever. i would keep that feeling with me. and when you would wake up the next day, it would all just be a dream to you. i would wish you'd never met me, that we'd never shared a moment, a feeling, a touch. in my 7 days, i would make the best of everything i have. i would enjoy every moment, even the boring ones, and i would not dread the next day. but, alas, i do not only have one week to live. i have many, unless some unfortunate event causes my years to cease but we will not speak of that. *the beauty of life is simple, but what you make of it, is beautiful.* if you wish

forever [24 Jun 2005|05:23pm] so yea, i've tried to update my journal for like 4 months now, but i always get bored and quit. now, i'm going to write the most random, out-of-the-ordinary journal entry i've ever done. are you ready? good. just bear with me... do you ever find yourself, in the wee hours of the early morning (or late night), thinking of what you want to eat? i believe that food can describe you more accurately than anyone could ever imagine. maybe i'm just weird and the only person in the world to ever think that, but maybe i'm right. again, bear with me. as a young child, i learned food was an important part of life. nothing kept you going better than a nice tasty meal, right? right. but as a baby, you eat pretty much everything because you don't really know what you like and don't like, you haven't developed. but as you grow older you experience more flavors, more spices, more tastes. your choice in food reflects your attitude and personality. the spicey foods would of course show off you spicyness. the sweet foods would portray your sweet nature. i could go on for days saying how your choice to have a variety expresses how you enjoy variety in your life, but i'll stop because i'm sure you all get the point. if not, then...leave this site immediately and don't even bother to finish reading. but yea, i honestly believe that food is a reflection of the eater's personality. plus, it's really good. 2 pour your heart out if you wish

sick [05 Jun 2005|08:42pm] [ mood | pissed off ] [ music | Best Deceptions--Dashboard ] i'm so sick of everyone's crap. i guess i'm just a bad person because i seem to be a liar, a rude person, a bad friend, untrustworthy...the list goes on. if i'm having trouble with one friend, do all the others have to go along too? i'm sorry everyone, i apologize for being such a shitty person. but do me one last favor, and get the fuck over yourselves. *i'm going through enough pain as it is, i can't take any more of it.* 5 pour your heart out if you wish

wow [01 Jun 2005|12:29pm] [ mood | happy ] [ music | Anything But Mine--Kenny Chesney ] Walking alone beneath the lights of that miracle mile, Me and Mary making our way into the night, You can hear the cries from the carnival rides, The pinball bills, ski ball slides, Watching the summer sun fall out of sight, There’s a warm wind coming in from off of the ocean Making its way past the hotel wall to fill the streets Mary is holding both of her shoes in her hands Said she likes to feel the sand beneath her feet And in the morning I’m leaving, making my way back to Cleveland So tonight I hope that I will do just fine And I don’t see how you could ever be anything but mine There’s a local band playing at the sea side pavilion And I got just enough cash to get us in And as we are dancing Mary’s wrapping her arms around me And I can feel the sting of summer on my skin In the mist of the music I tell her I love her, We both laugh cause we know it isn’t true But Mary there's a summer drawing to an end tonight And there’s so much that I long to do to you And in the morning I’m leaving, making my way back to Cleveland So tonight I hope that I will do just fine And I don’t see how you could ever be anything but mine And in the morning I’m leaving, making my way back to Cleveland So tonight I hope that I will do just fine And I don’t see how you could ever be anything but mine Mary I don’t see how you could ever be anything but mine ...And in the morning I’m leaving, making my way back to Cleveland So tonight I hope that I will do just fine Hey, I don’t see how you could ever be anything but mine 4 pour your heart out if you wish

My Cellmate Thinks I'm Sexy [30 May 2005|02:58pm] Hi ho Silver, AWAY! After my show, thought I'd have a little fun. Hopped on a horse: Shorty sure could run. Well, I got a butt kickin, when the police finally caught me. ("Give me back my horse!!!") Not a moment too soon, Tim McGraw jumped in. Did his best Jackie Chan, caught a cop on the chin. Now I don't understand why they's arrestin' me, My cellmate thinks I'm sexy, I really turn him on. He's always staring at me, oh, when the guards are gone. I'm runnin out of cigarettes; he's askin me to dance. He says I'm lookin good in these orange pants. I really wish Tim McGraw was here to protect me. My cellmate thinks I'm sexy. I'd give anything to be back on my bus. I'm hidin' in my bunk, but he's climbin' on up. Swears all he wants me to do is sing him one of my songs. Says he's got a dream: I'm afraid of what it is. You're never gonna see me on a horse after this. I only get one call. I hope that Faith is home. My cellmate thinks I'm sexy, he just won't leave me alone. He's blowin' kisses at me, and I'm a'duckin' em all. I hate to break it to him, I'm in no mood for romance. What part of no don't this fool understand? I'm in big trouble if someone don't come and get me. My cellmate thinks I'm sexy. Well one day behind bars is long enough, 'Cause when I drop that show gold, man his eyes light up. My cellmate thinks I, My cellmate thinks I'm sexy, I really turn him on. My name is Kenny Chesney, this ain't where I belong. Me and Tim's in trouble, buddy, one thing is for sure,. George Strait's gonna kick us off his George Strait tour. I'd call Tracy Lawrence but he's in the next cell beside me. My cellmate thinks I'm sexy. My cellmate thinks I'm sexy. I had him from hello...hello...hello. What's Up!! if you wish

[28 May 2005|12:31pm] someone kill me please... 3 pour your heart out if you wish

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