language leech

Language is a virus. We are merely the hosts.
The human dies, but the written word, the virus carries on, implanting itself into a new life-form.

I don't know where I'm going with this.

Tired kids and wired eyes

Trapped in a revolving door to the building that houses hurt and confusion on all floors.
Stuck between the lobby and the sidewalk. The outside world or the strange comfort of the florescent lights and tile floors?
He's only capable of love in 30 minute increments. She loves continuously.
The placebos to each other's loneliness.

I've noticed a lot of people on campus that don't agree with the current governement. I also notice a lot of people not doing anything about it. What of the people of yesteryear? If people didn't like the government, they marched right up to the seat and changed things.
What of the people now? I see people complaining, but no action. Apathy? A feeling of worthlessness?
I know, I'm one of the "I take issue with certain things, but I'm not running for president to try to change things,", but I don't see anyone else doing it either. What happened to proactivity?
Remember: People shouldn't be afraid of their government; governement should be afraid of its people.

Well tough shit

You think I'm cold and stubborn, but compared to the rest of the world, I've got a heart of fucking gold.

You know, for a "ghetto New York City" girl, you're awfully soft.

There's just something about laying in the grass on a nice sunny day reading a book full of words you wish you had written.
Something tells me the boy for me is doing the same thing right now.
But if we keep our noses buried in books, how will we ever meet?

Lost and found

Yesterday afternoon produced an angry rain shower and a sopping wet dog in our bathroom.
It was the kind of rain that seemed like it was raining out of anger of something. The kind of raindrops that seemed like they might break the glass when they hit. The kind that make a 'splat' noise and then break into thousands of tiny droplets, because of the force of the impact.
On our way home from the store in the angry rain, we passed a tiny dog walking down the sidewalk. Normally, we wouldn't have done anything. But it was raining and the dog looked pathetic. When we pulled over, the dog took shelter under the car and I had to coax it out, and into the front seat. He still has all his male parts, which leads me to believe he's not nuetered, he has no collar, but he's much to well behaved and people friendly to be a stray. He's also practically housebroken.
After putting up signs after the rain rested it's rampage, I decided to use the 'zip code search' on myspace and ask around there. Nobody was missing a dog, but I did get an offer from a girl who lives nearby to take him if nobody claims him in a week.
He's a cute dog, we just can't keep him.
Oh, the wonders of myspace. I wonder, though. Will someone write a news article on this? "Girl gives dog away using myspace"?
I'm reminded of the song sang at the end of Napoleon Dynamite. "I love you. But not as much as technology. Always and Forever."

late-night tension

Do I like being the one that has to be the 'cold-hearted, bitchy' friend? No. Do I like having to be the one that has to yell at my friends when they do something stupid? No. Do I like having her mad at me? Of course not. But someone has too. Someone has to tell them, even if they don't listen.
Of course I have feelings. It kills me to see friends go through the same hurt over and over and over again. I certainly don't enjoy it when they continously break up. But someone has to be the one to forget the heart and listen to the head when it says "it's happened 15 times before. Chances are, it'll happen again."
I don't like it when I have to go to sleep knowing she's not happy with me. But I'd rather go through that awkwardness than have to see her crying over the same guy a few months from now. It's getting ridiculous. I couldn't help but yell at her.
I think I'll just stick with being the tin-man for now. I just wish Dorothy would take my advice. Just this once.