"The Femme Fatale is an evil, conniving woman hell-bent on seducing men and leading them to ruin and damnation. Sometimes she does it for material gain, sometimes just for thrills. Men find her irresistible and are reduced to helpless prey in her cunning clutches. If there were really as many of these evil women out there as history and culture say, it's a wonder there are any guys left standing.

     The truth is that Femme Fatales slink through the ages mostly in fiction, not in fact. Almost all are the creation of imaginative male minds who believe their own sexual urges can't be controlled and, if things get out of hand, it's gotta be someone else's fault. These guys also insist there are legions of Femme Fatales out there,just waiting to destroy them. Femme Fatales are everywhere in art, theater, movies, literature, and religious myth. A lfilm wouldn't be noir without one."

yup.

current mood: accomplished

 Nothing has changed. It's all the same. You'll meet the girl of your dreams and all she'll want is sexual reassurance that you love her and find her desirable. Sick with the thoughts of this crime you'll protect your manhood and call her a nympho making claims to the best sex ever...not ever realizing that what you had together was false and you'll sleep in the same bed with false thoughts in your head. She'll plead for you to make love to her and you'll do so, dutifully, then you'll carry on your marry way....never acknowledging that she's completely sucking you dry, building herself up...only to burrow deeper and bury herself in your leave. She needs sexual heeling she needs your undying devotion and attention. ....it's so unecessary, and irritating. Survival of the sick mind and blackened soul are the days in which I live. There's no independant thought without a boy in your life somehow, someway. Nothing exists in singularity without some threat of a ball and chain. Girls can't feel pretty without sexual healing. Sex is a commodity, and not a symbol...it's something we take and nothing we feel for more than 5 mintues. Who are these girls?Who gave them these rules? Who broke their legs and told them to stand on their man's two feet? Sick to think that this exists, and gruesome to know the toll it takes. Tears will fall and blood will stain, and some will throw up their lunches in the name of beauty...strength. "I am not a pretty girl, it is not what I do"

this is home. <3 Granddad!

so. let's recap.

I left school in May, (10th) moved all of my stuff into my room..painted it red, then started redecorating my life.  I bought a camera, Nikon N80, and I'm presently at the Daniels Fund SHIFT program at UCCS.

Most of my days up until now have been filled with random, and most times, extemporaneous events. Tasha gets amazing benefits from her internship at Fort Collins Weekly so I've been going to a lot of shows for free and working with her, as a journalism duo; she writes I shoot.  The bakery is coming along but I'm not really sure when we'll reopen and I'm hoping that it's sometime really soon because the lack of income is taking it's toll. I hate the idea of them paying me because money is so tight with the expansion.  ..things with Tasha and I have been a lot better and I feel asthough our communication lines have been renewed, all of which I'm really happy about.  I was hanging out a lot with Jus for a while...and I've met up with Jeff again, from 8th grade...which has been strangely comfortable (with the exception of a few events) and I've spent more time with Nick and his roommate Eric.  I recently met Brandon and he's been really amazing to get to know...

I'm so bad at this general updating thing.  I feel like I'm doing it for nothing. I'm not even saying everything that should be said.  This week with Daniels Fund has, and always has, made me feel really wholesome. It always makes me question life, my decisions, and ethical ideas. It's hard to explain, but it's like when I'm around these scholars my life changes in this invincible way.  The staff and fellow scholars give me the power to move on, to better myself, and to better understand others around me. It's like I'm venturing into intricately detailed trails of devastation that have led to beautiful pastures.  The lives and cultures of the students in this program speak of the beauties that this world neglects on daily basis'.  The comrodery between Francisco, Natalie, and Andres is such a beautiful existence it paralizes the negative surrounding them and everyone around them...the look on their face and inner happiness makes me strive to be a better person....and the point of all this is to say that from this week I've learned that I don't know where to begin with Jus, and I'm hoping that my own fear of communication on sensitive issues, that I, myself have yet to resolve, haven't completely ruptured any chance of regaining normalcy.  The truth, really, is that I don't know what I want, I know that I've somehow startled Brian and I've given up (10%) on being broken over it, I don't want to date anyone, I know that I just want to sit my room and paint, I want to understand why it's so damn hard to operate my camera, I want to skateboard my life away this summer, go to nonstop shows with Tasha, visit California...either, Jonny and/or Brandon...I just want to be right for someone and have that right feel so good that my mind doesn't wander. I always thought that I didn't have high standards, but I think that my standards found me and I didn't pick them. Intimate thoughts of perfect worlds cloud the face of reality on a day to day basis; tatooed, blackened, and beautiful.  I dream of tall buildings that someone else has built and place my gods inside of them. I maintain the windows and strengthen the structure to neglect my own well being. Growing smaller by the day and sometimes by the minute I'll sit and dwell in blood...I'll find myself alone, I'll find myself in dream, but battle will capture my soul.  There's no sexing a violence but I'll swear that he did it to me over and over again.  Complex silences will plague my every thought, holding words at bay that have worked for twenty years to break all natural struggles...but my physical self will sit, seeming serenity...seeming peace and calm.

laying there I thought of this walk that we took once late at night and how the wind on my face made the world next to you feel wonderful, and my mind wandered to this distant aisle in a grocery store where we were strolling the aisles looking for dinner and everything, once again, aligned and smile stretched across my face....but talking with you on intimate levels tore holes in the screen that I was watching our lives unfold on. I wish that we could just sit together and not remember or even talk about events. I wish that I could be multiplied to fit in every corner of love that you want to promise me...but I don't fold any more and I don't rip my edges off to fit in doorways anymore, I won't cry because you want me to, and I won't die from lack of seeing you...I'm not your perfect fit, and I wish you could see that without being that stupid boy.  If you had me you wouldn't want me, because when you had me you didn't seem to care...and now we talk of times in between and we discuss the people you've been with, and you could have listed four or five randoms, but I asked about her...and as your head nodded I felt the my heart descending into my stomach like a rock in a well.  I saw her last night and you were there too...I can't decide why I care, but I also can't deny that there's a some feeling of sickness that creeps over me when I think of you.  I wish for that reason that you hadn't come at all, because I know that you were hurting and I couldn't change my actions, you left in a rush and quick pinch on my back and now I may only hear your name in passing.

there's this nasty feeling in my stomach today that won't let me work on anything. I have this gross way of drinking myself to sickness in hours following joy.  I hate that I can't be what everyone wants me to be, I wish I could suitably fit into people's lives where I'm needed, but I can't do it anymore. I'm so sick of trying to be good for people.  I'm not good for a lot of people, and instead of crying about it and nagging me to get my life in order, I wish they'd just accept that I'm not living for anyone but me.  I won't be compromised into anything from now on....damnit I miss Chrissy.  I feel so random today.  No feelings inparticular, and I keep forcing words onto this screen because staring at the screen and rambling is much more interesting than the massive amounts of work I have to do today.  I really need to sleep, but I have to help with this movie now....damnit this apathy is killing me.

current mood: apathetic

I could feel the posters in my hands, rolling and sliding into the tube so easily. I feel the paint on my skin I could feel the posters in my hands, rolling and sliding into the tube so easily. I feel the paint on my skin and the smell fills my nostrils, it's cool and mint and heavenly. Tonight I sat in a room with a group of friends I felt, for one slight second myself growing older and realizing how slight and instantaneous life is...I feel my future some times and it comes in the weirdest waves. and the smell fills my nostrils, it's cool and mint and heavenly. Tonight I sat in a room with a group of friends I felt, for one slight second myself growing older and realizing how slight and instantaneous life is...I feel my future some times and it comes in the weirdest waves.....but then again, is 3a.m.

current mood: apathetic