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Sibyl Vane
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April 2006
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How will you spendeternity?

And true love waits
In haunted attics
And true love wins
On lollipops and crisps

that's the song, the one that sneaks up on you. Leave it behind for a few months and then out of no where it floats through and stops you in your tracks. You forget how lovely it is. It almost makes you cry. Sometimes there's so much beauty in the world I feel like I can't take it, like my heart's going to cave in. I live my life chasing that beauty only to realize that sometimes you have to stumble upon it.

You had better back away. I'm not afraid to shoot.
I said you had better back away.
I'm not afraid.

London bridge is falling down, falling down,
london bridge is falling down,
my fair lady

take a key and lock her up, lock her up
take a key and lock her up,
my fair lady

I found a new addiction:


Good music. I just got her cd Arular of ebay. YAY for retail therapy.

I said I wasn't gonna do this again.

I've been beating myself up all week. Everything seems so upside down. I have so many good things in my life and yet I feel like shit. The worst was dress shopping. I've never felt so fat in my life. Every dress I tried on including the one I bought reminded me that there is fat on ever single part of my body except (of course) for my breasts. Fucking A. I train so fucking hard that I can barely walk and I still look like a fucking cow. And I eat so fucking healthy too. Seriously, my mom's a nutritionist. Maybe that's it. Maybe I need to stop eating altogether. Not to mention that I have no date. No, no, maybe the worst is that I have to study for this fucking Stat test. It would be alright if I hadn't been disrespected by the teacher. or if it was interesting or something. or linear. or if I fucking liked math. Damn it I feel like getting one of those fucking spiked whips that those crazy Opus Dei people use.

I less than three you because I am less than three and you are more than four.

I guess I feel like writing. I've been in such a horrid mood. Grouchy I suppose. Angry. Tired. All sorts of that. I'm eager to get out, to get away. To go somewhere where I don't have to justify my intelligence or creativity or how my brain works. Where I don't have to give speechs on how I was raised. Where at 18 years old no one is expected to have a portfolio comparable to Lucas'. Where I don't have to constantly be on the defense. I'm sick of the immaturity here. I'm sick of the insecurity. I'm not on a platform and neither is anyone else. There are enough sharks in the waters I am diving into; I don't need the pirahnas coming out here.

The new comercials for Jaguar are gorgeous.

I've had to fight for everything I have. I was never handed anything to get here. How dare you try to tell me that I do not deserve what I have achieved for myself. How dare you think that you know more about everything than everyone. Fuck you. I have no respect for you anymore.


I hit hard tonight and every pop, crack, and thud. That hollow sound of muscle and bone cracking against the pads, every hit made that sound, the sound of respect draining.

Fun fact: mom lets me go to classes where I learn how to fight, but forbids me to watch actual ufc fights.

So last night I snuck out with my friend Gabbi to Jess's house to watch the fight with Jess, Jana, Lauren, and Nima. It was fun and the fights were short but good.

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God.

Your playing small does not serve the world.

There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.

We are all meant to shine, as children do.

We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.

It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.

As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.


by Marianne Williamson

I have a funny feeling that I will find it hard to keep writing once school starts. I'm jumping ahead a few months, but I know they'll pass quickly. Since when have I become so fitness based? I was thinking about the things I want to do in college (other than study and party) and a lot of them require physical effort. Hah. No freshman fifteen for me.

My list:

-Women in Cinema, SCFX, other film clubs etc.
-Trojan Vision (TV)
-work at the radio station
-Women's Ultimate frisbee team
-Rock Climbing
-Martial Arts (not sure which ones yet ..)

Plus training at the Krav Maga National Training Center.
Plus work to pay for training at the center.
Plus internships.

Uhoh. Something's going to have to be cut. :(

Life is overwhelming me. I'm exhausted, but it doesn't matter. I'm wide awake on the pillow. Letting it all hit me and hoping I'm strong enough to take the blows.



It's crazy! crazy! ludicrous I tell you. these things we speak of. these things we feet's crazy! crazy! ludicrous I tell you. these things we speak of. these things we feel. and in my crazed thought storm I see t's crazy! crazy! ludicrous I tell you. these things we speak of. these things we feel. and in my crazed thought storm I see all the images you'd never guess. arms and legs and smiles toot's crazy! crazy! ludicrous I tell you. these things we speak of. these things we feel. and in my crazed thought storm I see all the images you'd never guess. arms and legs and smiles too! Wat's crazy! crazy! ludicrous I tell you. these things we speak of. these things we feel. and in my crazed thought storm I see all the images you'd never guess. arms and legs and smiles too! What! what! what would you say if I told you

I have a lot of excess energy.

Most people don't see that much. I don't see that much. But I know it and I feel it. I guess I am a lot like my dad in that sense. My dad is a workaholic. He fills up emptiness with work. I do the same. with people. No, I'm not outgoing and friendly all the time. But, I have a penchant for people. For all the ones I've hated and despised and cut off all connection with. I still hunger for their company. I have friends. I call them a lot. Always somewhere between caring and bothering. It's hard to explain, but I thrive on people on actions on time spent going somewhere, accomplishing something. And from there it's not just people I'm after. It's movement. Places to go people to see, tasks to achieve. Obsessions. I thrive on obsession, too. New interests, new people, new places. I'm happy when I'm moving. At this moment everything in my life seems setting into place as perfect as I could ever imagine. And yet, tonight, tonight I feel beat up inside. And I know, I know that it is because tonight I am in no one's company.

oh you silly boy, didn't you know I loved you then?
oh you silly man, don't you know I lust love you now?

turbine of mixed emotions
what are you thinking about?
I always get so caught when people ask me that one.
Isn't that a personal question anyways? Can't you read my mind like a book anyways? I'm transparent. At least I feel that way. And isn't that what you should be asking? The question is not what I am thinking. It is what am I feeling?

Oh I am bored and dwelling. And doing this rather than reading or offering advice... not that I know anything about advice, but someone asked for mine and I'm letting them down.

Domination. Sex. Domination. I always realized sex was about power, but somehow it all became a lot clearer. (i.e. Dominatrix--no shit its about power). I guess I realized why I never look at the clean cut and cute guy. I always go for the one that a.) looks like a badass or b.) is clearly bigger and stronger than me. I guess you could call it instinct even. Animals want the strongest male to fuck them so they have the strongest babies. It's the cycle of women seducing/having sexual powers over man and man having physical strength over woman. Sex and violence are the same.

this post is a bit absurd.

Who are these people?

I got in to USC Film.

Current Mood: thoughtfulsurreal

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from now on all entries in all journals are locked

you know the drill, comment

Hello Amy! I just wanted to say
that I dig your journal. It's filled with
the intellectual musings of a smart person.
I'm assuming that smart person is you.
Deep thoughts. Cool poetry. A robot. It's
got it all.     Breathe

I am putting this here because it made me smile. It made me feel worth something. It is what I need right now. Most of the time I am so focused on being humble and respectful and looking up at everyone around me that I forget about me. And after awhile I remember to look into the mirror and cannot find the good in me. I find so much beauty in everything I see. I see into so many people. I love so many people and yet I fail to see these qualities in myself. I don't hate me. I just put everyone around me on pedestals.

Fuck you : I'm smart.

Fuck you : I'm creative.

Fuck you : I'm able.

Fuck you : I'm patient.

Fuck you : I'm not lazy.

Fuck you : I'm pretty.

Fuck you Fuck you Fuck you Fuck you

I am not less than you. You are not the sum of your parts. There is no greater than or equal sign in this equation !

Current Mood: bitchybitchy

                          where you gonna be
                           where will you spend eternity
                        I'm gonna be perfect from now on 
                        I'm gonna be perfect starting now 
                               stop making that sound 
                               stop making that sound 
                                    I will say I forgot 
                               but it was only yesterday 
                              and it's all you had to say

 I started to lose it. Wanted no more than to be held in the arms of someone who cares, who loves. Had to settle for a voice. I let the voices come, let them reassure, re-valuate, remind. All the while my feet in circles, twisting until I couldn't stand up any longer and collapsed, life spinning all around me. 

Sometimes you have to tell yourself you're special even if you know it isn't true.

I have something to prove.

haberdashery (11:50:41 PM): i say, old bean, have you seen my hat?
amydoishere (11:50:59 PM): couldn't say
amydoishere (11:51:03 PM): what's it look like ?
amydoishere (11:52:32 PM): and who are you ?
haberdashery (12:00:28 AM): i say, old bean, have you seen my hat?
haberdashery (12:00:38 AM): hi who is this

I'm tired. My shoulders ache. Missed class yesterday so they had me do bag work for an hour straight. Loved every second of it, but now I'm tired and bent. Sometimes I think you could kill an army just by pouring hydrogen peroxide into their wounds. I'm getting more anxious by the day. I spent all of third period clutching my notebook thinking of what is going to happen if I get rejected or accepted to USC Film. It's driving me bat shit. I might not find out until the 24th. I won't even be home the 24th. Krav is the only thing that's keeping me from doing something drastic.

Current Mood: stressedstressed

Harry Callahan: I know what you're thinking. "Did he fire six shots or only five?" Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement I kind of lost track myself. But being as this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world, and would blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself a question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?

It turned out that the sweet-talking, tattoo-sporting pikey was a gypsy bare-knuckle boxing champion. Which makes him harder than a coffin nail.

It's an unlicensed boxing match. It's not a tickling competition. These lads are out to hurt each other.

Do you know what "nemesis" means? A righteous infliction of retribution manifested by an appropriate agent. Personified in this case by an 'orrible cunt... me.

I'm falling in love or lust or something. Don't ask me with whom or what. I haven't got a clue. Just that I'm falling and I'm falling much to quickly and the ground doesn't look so soft.

Between Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and Roshomon the Chinese Asians are some pretty fucked up people.. and I have to say I like it. Props if you can figure out what I'm talking about.

Current Mood: flirtyraunchy

I met one of the most amusing people today. Krav girls are amazing. Krav is amazing. I think its partly because its so damn awkward. You're just so up and close with all these strangers. For example, I got my ass slapped by accident. It was really funny. At least to us. And then there's the chokes. You're literally mounting someone. This can be made amusing very quickly.

In other news, I'm waiting.

In other news, the moment you let go is the moment you succeed. [Childe Roland went to the Dark Castle came back to me.]

In other news, I'm 90% happy. [the other 10% is still waiting on USC and whatever else is lacking in my life right now]

The rain set early in tonight,
The sullen wind was soon awake,
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,
And did its worst to vex the lake:
I listened with heart fit to break.
When glided in Porphyria; straight
She shut the cold out and the storm,
And kneeled and made the cheerless grate
Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;
Which done, she rose, and from her form
Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,

Her hat and let the damp hair fall,
And, last, she sat down hy my side
And called me. When no voice replied,
She put my arm about her waist,
And made her smooth white shoulder bare,
And all her yellow hair displaced,
And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,
And spread, o'er all, her yellow hair,
Murmuring how she loved me -- she
Too weak, for all her heart's endeavor,
To set its struggling passion free
From pride, and vainer ties dissever,
And give herself to me forever.
But passion sometimes would prevail,
Nor could tonight's gay feast restrain
A sudden thought of one so pale
For love of her, and all in vain:
So, she was come through wind and rain.
Be sure I looked up at her eyes
Happy and proud; at last l knew
Porphyria worshiped me: surprise
Made my heart swell, and still it grew
While l debated what to do.
That moment she was mine, mine, fair,
Perfectly pure and good: I found
A thing to do, and all her hair
In one long yellow string l wound
Three times her little throat around,
And strangled her. No pain felt she;
l am quite sure she felt no pain.
As a shut bud that holds a bee,
l warily oped her lids: again
Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.
And l untightened next the tress
About her neck; her cheek once more
Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:
l propped her head up as before,
Only, this time my shoulder bore
Her head, which droops upon it still:
The smiling rosy little head,
So glad it has its utmost will,
That all it scorned at once is fled,
And l, its love, am gained instead!
Porphyria's love: she guessed not how
Her darling one wish would be heard.
And thus we sit together now,
And all night long we have not stirred,
And yet God has not said aword!

I just don't. I just don't fit in that box they always try to put me in. They strangle me in there. It's too small for me. I don't want to be squished. I never belonged at a desk. I can sit still and pay attention and all that crap, but that's not what I want. I know I'd never be happy there. And they just don't get it. So so concerned with jobs and money and survival. I won't. I can't. I'm not ignorant. I know it will be hard. But just as hard as it would be to be someone something I'm not. I admit. I've never had to worry too much about money. Or job security or stuff like that. But what? How is it different. Where would I go if I majored in history. At least film has somewhat of a set path. I don't want to become a professor. I don't want to teach. I don't want to become a doctor or a nurse. I don't want to be a lawyer or an architect. Why won't you believe me when I say I can do it? Why is it so hard to fathom that I could find a niche in the biggest export in America? There will always be movies. In times of prosperity. In times of depression. Movies have always been there. Is that secure enough for you? Because it is for me. Take me for who I am. Take me for my dreams and ambitions. Take me seriously. Understand that I am not you.

And I forget that my knuckles are torn.
I don't feel the cold anymore.
I am barely aware that my hands are white and grasping.
Where is my mind?

I am diving with my white dress into the pit. Somersaulting through the air, preferring not to care what's at the bottom.

ready to kill the following programs/companies:
Internet Explorer

Chapman called, they just asked if I'd sent some work in. I think they must have already made a decision on me. Everything is coming at me so fast. I think I'm going to puke. Nothing will stay calm in me. The paths in front of me have yet to be laid down. They are twisting and changing, playing leap frog, slithering like snakes in front of me. I think I'm going to throw up.

 11:11    love
   1: 11   lust

USC called today. They caught me off guard just a few moments after I had awoken. I hope they liked me. I hope they enjoyed listening even if they don't accept me. I was so nervous I didn't breath. I couldn't even think for a few moments. Then I just let it all out all those hopes and desires I have in me. I hope they liked me.

Current Mood: vibrant

Sometimes I go elsewhere just to say how I feel. How many places do I need to spread my soul. The whole internet can't hold me.

It gets me every time. Things get under my skin so quickly. The same things that have been getting under my skin for years. I like to imagine what she'd say if college didn't exist. If grades and school didn't matter. My brother's telling me to suck it up. He's right, but I don't want to be like him. I just want for once to be more important than pension files and 401ks. I just want for once for them to be proud of me, to make me feel like I am worth that pride. It's a useless dream, I know. Even when I prove them wrong they'll still stutter in disbelief. I've got to let go of these silly fantasies.

                            2012               mayan calender ends
 nuclear weapons            circles around Baghdad
"when someone tells you they want to kill you, listen"     
                    is       natural disasters
    purple turbans               
                  nigh     war

who will cower? who will fight? who will see the faces in the night?
call me crazy, call me lame, maybe I'm the one who's sane
all the fingers are a-pointing, read the signs, and read the book
will you won't you take a look
no time for tears, the box is open, all is dark
only the light of hope lets us embark

One side of my mind is yelling at the other. Classic tale of what you want and what you have. The facts versus the hope. The sliver of hope as if it meant anything. Always giving hope, always prodding, saying 'yes you can! I know you can!' to everyone but me of course. Of course, it's simply harder to put yourself on the line than to put someone else on the line. They fail, stumble, embarrass themself, it's their fault. But me? I fall and it's my fault and I simply don't want the blame this time around.

what happens when good news is bad news
good things bringing fear and terror
I'm flipping
I'm drowning in anxiety
I wish I could say that it really wasn't that big a deal.
Oh, but it is.
It is to me.

I'm painful.

I could write why or how or who or what, but I don't want to. So that's it. That is all you get those three words made into two. Upset and overly sensitive I don't feel like explaining. No, I just want something else. I dont' want to think about it. I want to be distracted.

I may leave early.
I may not.

In art museums I've begun to notice that eyes search for names before they search for art. There are so many pieces I've been so struck by and yet it is as though they disappear the second I leave their presence. In gift shops there are only postcards of the greats. Postcards of that Matisse you see in the front room. Postcards of that magnificent 'Man carrying cala lilies' by Rivera. But what of that lithograph stuck in the corner? What of that Bruce Conner that people pass by? What of that one Jasper Johns (that wasnt a flag) and that seemed so alive? I try to grasp them, hold on to them, but I know that I will only remember shadows of them once I leave. It's lucky if I remember a name or the title of the work. Even searching this huge mess of wires I cannot find the same art. Just those huge widely known pictures and little else.

If I could find it again, this is where it would have been

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