This Time

I need to vent.
Or something; ranting seems to make me less angry. Doesn't it always? >.>

I'm feeling a little more dark than usual--I feel like there's something wrong with me. Is it weird to write things that make people shudder? Ever since I had that super freaky dream, I'm scared to touch the floor and it freaks me out to think about it. I've been writing and drawing more in the style too--and what's even WORSE was that I wrote a freaking story on my scary dream.
I couldn't even write part of it for a while because it freaked me out too much! I still can't read it because it gives me the goosebumps and kind of makes me wanna cry. I see it so vividly in my mind and it's just...creepy. I want to put that into the story but I don't think that worked out as well as I hoped it to be. Yes, I want to scare people. Like Stephen King. I wonder if he ever gets scared when he writes his books?
You know how everyone says that his books are super scary? Well, they're not. I mean, I read The Long Walk and Roadwork and The Running Man in this one Bachman collection book I have...I mean, The Long Walk and The Running Man were weird. They were scary not in a 'boo' way, but I creepy, holy crap, that could actually happen to us if someone was stupid enough to be THAT sadistic.
It's creepy weird.
I've decided that I don't like writing scary stories. Not only does it scare the crap out of me so badly that I can barely proofread it, but it's just...it stays with you. I can't get it out of my head. >.< Maybe that was my fault for making the entire book a diary of a poor little eight year who(I'm not even ruining it, it mentions it at the beginning) dies in the book.
THAT'S JUST WRONG.
Killing little girls is a BAD BAD THING.
Dx
Maybe that's what's been bothering me lately; I dunno, I can't really tell.
My dad just got thrown into the world of being a single parent for the first time in like, fifteen years, so he's like, never around anymore. And when I ask him about it, he's always like, "I have something to do" and he goes off into this huge speech about how he's ALWAYS busy and it's so hard, blah blah blah.
I know how hard it is--I've raised me and my sisters basically by myself. I don't think that's fair to be 'a little mother'. I think it's bad that my nickname is 'Cinderella'. I don't wanna be Cinderella--I want to be a somewhat normal teenager who's worst fears are their phone battery dying. I don't like how my hands are calloused and feel so rough to me when I'm supposed to just be relaxing all the time. It makes me feel old and like I missed all of my teenage years.
And I can't tell anyone that because no one cares--and that's what makes me even more sad/angry. Ever since the big divorce, everyone hates each other. Like I went to my stepmom's house and all she did the entire time was tell me how much she hated my father when I was just trying to take a break. I really want a break.
And I want my dad to care about this stupid passion I have about writing that I've been obsessing over for like, the last five to six years. But he doesn't care and that's what hurts me the most. I have to beg him to look at something I've written, and even then, sometimes he forgets. I understand that being a single parent is hard...but really? I just want someone to care and I can't even get that. I know, I sound really selfish and ungrateful right now, I should be happy that I have a father who watches over me.
But after running away from my mom's house, I felt like this was all I had and I was so happy. And then, stupid court came up and now I have to go BACK to her house...which makes me feel like ally my terrible self-esteem for the last six years was all for nothing. Like I tried to get away, but it was all in vain. Ugh, I just want to do something...
But everytime I try to organize someone or something, it falls apart at the last moment. I hate getting my hopes up and watching them fall apart. But I guess I'm used to it--it's been like that for a long time. I shouldn't even be complaining; there's so many more people in this world who have it ten times as bad as me, but I hate hearing them complain like at school about how much their life sucks and they over-exaggerate it. At least they could TRY to see the better side of life, right? There's always a better side.
And I feel like I've missed all my teenage years. I want to go out with my friends in my car (which I should have, especially since I should have a license) but 'family issues' won't let me get my license or a car...every time I bring it up my dad goes off in his insurance speech like I'm stupid or something. I can't do anything anymore and it makes me mad. I'm sick of being cooped up in my house all the time--it makes me feel filthy. But all my friends from back in the day have kind of drifted away, even my best friend. I feel like my heart's been ripped into a bunch of little pieces and I'm trying to find them all. And, as my father pointed out rudely, I'm scared to take responsibility. Well, that kind of makes sense to me; I only missed out on most of wretched childhood and teenagehood. I don't even know what a normal person is anymore--are they one of those people who's parents aren't divorced, and the worst thing in life for them is whether they or their brother will get the last cookie? I don't like worrying about things and I don't like feeling like an adult. I shouldn't have to feel like that for a few more years.
I think writing and art are my only escapes; but my dad says I do that too much and that I need to start doing other things. I feel so antisocial because I don't really like to be around my family. They're all smiles, but I hate it because they all hate each other. I wish someone would be honest, but I'm too scared to be honest.
Backstabbing is bad. It's very, very bad. So why doesn't anyone care?
I feel like I'm lost in the middle of nowhere and I need someone to help me through it...but no one cares.
I am alone.
And that's all I am.

Is Deader than all Dead of Deadtown

First thing that came to mind.
Yeah.
Well, I can't tell you the last time I updated this thing of which I check like, every day. >.>
Very poor manners of me, I know, I know.
And now I will attempt a very poorly covered up excuse for my absence and lack of artwork (which is the only thing I CAN vouch for):
Ahem. Well, family issues. That's a big taboo thing, yeah, well, and lack of artwork...my scanner/printer/awesome machine is gone.
GONE. NOT COMING BACK. D:
Well, until my father decides to buy a new one...which I dunno how long that'll take...*rolls eyes* I've got my sister's stupid camera that hates me and shuts off every two seconds, and my stupid camera phone.
But I'm actually okay about this, you know? It's just something you learn to cope with. ^^
I SWEAR TO THE FREAKING OVERHEAD IF I DON'T GET A FREAKING SCANNER I'M GONNA GO FREAKING CRAZY
But, yeah, well, that's about it. I have a Tablet, but God only knows why that thing hates my guts. It just does. I haven't drawn a half decent picture on that thing since I got it two Christmases ago.
...Holy SNAP. IT's two freaking years old?!
I've been feeling so old lately...how is that so, when I just turned sixteen?
Oh, another thing I forgot to mention/but no one really cares about.
I kinda...sorta...had my...sixteenth b-day. Hoorah. I mean, I don't FEEL like I grew five inches and have the freedom of the world in front of me and is driven by her academics to college and etc. etc. If anything, I realized, 'holy crap, I'm gonna have a crapful of homework this year'. And THAT'S not something you usually want to think of right before you go to school.
By the way, don't EVER procrastinate. Shoving things 'under the carpet', so to speak, will find you and they WILL drag you under the carpet with them. And if that's not a scary thought, I don't know what is.
I've also been writing/drawing/playing guitar a lot. I hate, hate, hate the feeling that my hands are all rough and calloused from washing my hands too much (I feel like Mini Mom/Cinderella all over again) I'm gonna lose my freaking fingerprints, aren't I?! Oh my geesh...and that the steel strings on my wonderful Seagull guitar Lara are cutting into my fingers like I dunno what.
Oh! I got a new guitar for my b-day. Ehehe, I sorta...forgot to say that...too....yeah. Her name is Lara. ^^ I know it's kinda weird that both my guitars I refer to as girls, but I'm not on the girl team, people. My computer's a girl too; I only call them that because they have mood swings that could knock a guy's teeth out. Rise (my old, crappy guitar) can't stay in tune for more then ten seconds--already tried--and Lara seems to enjoy messing with my mind with steel strings. So, yeah. And I keep losing all my gosh darn guitar picks and they randomly show up just when I don't need them. My grandparents in Ten. got me a guitar case; my grandpa's awesome because he played guitar and that got my dad and my uncle into guitar, and now my dad's gotten me into guitar, which is funny because my other grandpa and uncle play guitar too.
Yeah. I think I was like, SUPPOSED to play guitar to like, carry down the bloodline or something like that. Ugh, pressure. >.>
Anyway, sorry about this huge gigantic rant, I got the case, nice heavy case, the one you can drop on the ground and have someone jump on and it won't hurt the guitar (which took forever to find a case because my Seagull has hips that nearly made me have to get a gig bag, grr) but I keep bumping the case into walls, doors, people, the floor, myself, etc. My case probably hates my guts and it's only been like, a month. D:
But I love it. ^^
I've been working on that 100 Challenge thing, and sheesh, is that thing hard. I've gotten sidetracked more than a few times, drawing random things while I should be drawing challenges, but I'm just too...distracted.
By the way, Rachel, I've like, fallen in love with Owl City (Adam Young, right?) and that new song that was free on iTunes a few weeks back, Fireflies (By the way, you should ALL listen to it. It kicks ALL mega butt. It has become one of my new Nostalgia songs! ^^ ) I made my dad listen to it and he ADORES it. He blasts it every time he hears the song, and he made his friend listen to it and SHE loves it, so she wrote it down to tell her son about it too. We are SO spreading the love of Owl City. It's like, super great. I love him, geez.
Well, that's all I can really think of. I feel absolutely terrible for having dropped off the face of the earth while actually secretly stalking you guys (...okay, that sounded REALLY creepy...) so I'm going to put something I wrote yesterday up here. I beg of you, do not steal. I don't like people who steal, and if you need proof what happens to them, just ask Koii-sempai. Just know that it's REALLY BAD.
^^

On the Other Side of the Wall
On the other side of the wall
The huge big brick wall
There’s a little house made of sticks and hay
That the big bad wolf cannot blow down today
On the other side of the wall

On the other side of the wall
That far off huge wall
There’s a little stream running wide and free
A little stream, waiting for me
But only on the other side of the wall

On the other side of the wall
The big wall no one can get over
There’s a beautiful field covered in baby breath and larkspur
As thick and plenty as a dog’s long fur
Unfortunately, only on the other side of the wall

On the other side of the wall
The big wall that holds in this city
There’s a sky that reaches with both hands towards time
A sky full of clouds that pass over the wall and leaves it behind
But only on the other side of the wall

On the other side of the wall
That my father and father before helped to create
Where I wish I was, there’s a forest forever that will prate
About what’s on their other side of the wall
Somewhere I wish I was, on the other side of the wall

On the other side of the wall
The one lined with floating barbs
There’s a billion other people with dreams just like me
And one day I will forever be
On the other side of the wall

On this side of the wall
This big, big wall
A hundred different almond trees rest
Resting in anger at these times we detest
Sadly, on this side of the wall

On the other side of the wall
Which will crumble one day
All our flowers will float away
As free as we were and with minds set free
To the other side of the wall

It was meant to represent like the Japanese internment camps during World War 2, if you don't know about those, it's right after Pearl Harbor when Japan bombed the USA and they freaked out that every single Japanese person in the USA was actually a spy and Kennedy, I think it was, sent them to these internment camps where they stayed for several months. It wasn't like the Holocaust; none of them died, which is a very, very good thing, but it was very crowded and they weren't allowed to leave. All their property and businesses were sold--when they got out, they had nothing. It was one of the worst things the USA has ever, ever done. Eventually though, by Reagen (sp? Darn it) the Japanese were paid small sums as an apology. So yeah. There you go, History 101 lesson.
Well then, haha, this has gone on long enough. I appreciate every single one of you who didn't scroll down to get to the end that thank you for reading my huge, long rant. It means more to me than you know. ^^
Have a great day, ya'll! And don't forget your Nostalgia songs!
~Choco

Error: Operator

Mankind has struggled endlessly through thousands of years, constantly recording their stories and beliefs in many different forms.
The creation of words was created to express self-meaning and to explain to others emotions and thoughts. That is what we see, what we hear. It is what we feel.
And in this evolved form of expression, over hundreds of years, it has shaped its beautiful self into what we speak today.
It is a joyous thing when people--especially those who fall within the years of the ever changing spirit--feel a need to express themselves through the words mankind has used so much.
And in these words and stories and poems and expressions, there lives a single fear.
A fear so great, so drastically frightening, ones who write by hand and by eye fear the very word of it. There is nothing that can stop this event; it is inevitable to those who write. As much of a curse as it is a blessing, please, bow your head in respect for the one thing that will drive people mad to no end. Dare I say it, but I will. I must, because it is the thing that dare move in front of me while I continue to express views into blood-earned pages.
For those faint of heart, please, turn away from the computer screen now.
It is...
WRITER'S BLOCK.

If anyone shares my pain at this moment, have a moment of silence for this atrocious event.
That being said, I would like to say hello to everyone!
Welcome once again to another one of my stupid little rant things that no one really ever checks!
*crickets*
...Yeah. Anyway, I'm going to rant here because I created this complicated (sheesh, this stuff increased in difficulty at least tenfold) page for that reason alone. If you check this page for that reason to hear me rant, I wish the best of sanity towards you.
*ahem*
I. Am. DONE.
HECKALUJAH!
One story down...three to go.
>.>
I'm never going to finish like this...*dies*
I suppose I'll put up the link for the book when it's completely published up here. >.< If anyone actually would want to buy it.
I dunno. No, I must not get myself down!
My latest dilemma is not being able to draw one of my characters, Operator. Yes, like the phone operator. It's a big bird-like thing that's...yeah. It feeds off dead people's fear. O.o
Somehow I can't draw it to save my life. Dx
If anyone could at least attempt to draw it, I'd be like, indebted forever to them.
Operator's description:
The creature was tall with a long neck like a giraffe, opening up to a fan of feathers around the top of Operator’s neck. On its back were thousands of feathers all in every color I had ever seen in my entire life.
Operator’s face was small and narrow like a cat’s and very high up, smiling down at me with a soft expression. Its eyes were the color of nothingness and its eyelids were see-through.

I guess I'm putting this out as a contest then.
I can draw a picture for the winner with a stupid little camera, that's about it. ^^"
Sorry for bothering you all with my stupid little thoughts~

Have an awesome day,
Choco

Come As You Are, Because We Don't Judge

So, let's have a talk, shall we?
Remember that one song, way back in your younger years?
Yes, that one.
For this little 'rant', that one song (or more) will be sticky noted as The Nostalgic Song.
For those who have burned their dictionaries long ago (and laughed in the midst of their soon to be bonfire) nostalgia means the feeling of longingness, a.k.a. that knot in your chest when you feel homesickness of a sort.
The Nostalgia Song could be the time you danced in your room as your dog stared at you like you were crazy, or driving down the road staring at the clouds on a beautiful sunny day. Or maybe it was on a family trip, sitting in the backseat with a half asleep sibling, a cold coke in hand as you sang off-key, very, very loudly. Or the song on a warm summer night, sitting at a picnic table with friends while eating hamburgers. Or the boyfriend/girlfriend way back, their song, the one that makes your heart choke for a moment. Or how about that song when you first heard it, you couldn't help the row of goosebumps that rose on your arms.
Or the song waaaay back when, the one your parents always listened to. Just a song that makes you giddy inside when you hear it after a long time.
Some people can list a lot of The Nostalgic Songs off just like that--while others can't remember any of them until they hear them again.
It's a great feeling, isn't it?
Emotions are like...it's difficult to explain, as we all know. They're beautiful factors in life that keep us all crazy and sane at the same time. They keep us in line, make us do crazy stuff, but in the end, they're what really connects us all.
If you can't think of your Nostalgic Song, pick up your iPod and go find the song you've listened to more than any other one. THAT one.
I just wanted to take the time to remind you all of this one beautiful little song.
While others (mainly people that you're not close friends with, maybe not at all) have their music, you know you have your own style. It's a comfort zone, specially designed and comfy as heck. Everything outside it is foreign, cold, and forbidding. Taboo, almost. Smiling uneasily as a friend is dancing to some absurd song; that's what I mean.
Comfort zones sure are nice, aren't they? But they're just that--comfort zones. They aren't meant to be lived in forever. They're meant to be your safety net, if you will, the thing you fall back on when your music ears want to be ripped off from 'trying something new'. Scary terms, right?
I've seen a lot of posts where they usually end in a challenge and you just mumble 'oh gracious' in the back of your mind. But this isn't a visual challenge (well, kinda. Sorta. Stop throwing me off my mind choo-choo!) I want you to sit back for a moment and think of the last time you heard your Nostalgic Song. And if you want, share it with others. Heck, like me, I suppose.
Maybe it's a family joke song and you don't want to ruin it by tainting it with sharing it. That's okay too! Wow, I'm just in a good mood, aren't I? Hmm, maybe it's from hearing my Nostalgic Song today.
Days Go By by Keith Urban, does anyone remember that song? The one where it makes you want to start dancing or if you're in the car, stick your hand out the window and close your eyes.
Those are the little moments in life that we all need to remember. Let's forget the dark crap, the tears, the sadness. The overwhelming pain.
All we need is a little life Nostalgia.
Let's go over, once more, the morals drilled into your head. Treat others the way you want to be. Love, live, laugh. Don't put gum in other people's hair. Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened. (That's a tough one).
You're all wonderful people with beautiful, creative minds. Everyone of you can do something amazing and you know it.
Relish in every moment because it's a gift.
Love the world because something out there loves you back.
(Haha, you thought I meant 'someone', didn't you? The air loves you too~)
Smile because it's the simplest pleasure you have.
And most importantly: don't waste time. You're here for a purpose. I'm here for a purpose. We're all in this together, wouldn't you agree? Let's make the best out of our time here on this big ol' globe.
Let's bring everyone together, one Nostalgic Song at a time.
Because even though it's a super cliche, we really CAN make a difference. The world is a great place sometimes, you know? Humankind has done things that seemed impossible.
I don't mean to sound giddy and too optimistic (freaky optimistic, more like it). This is my voice speaking in fog and I'd like it to echo everywhere. You're the absolute coolest person for reading this (and considering all of my crap, so thank you~) Spread the love, why don't you?
Someone out there could really use it right now.

~Love, love, and tons more love,
Choco

Back Again, B-B-Back~

Back from the dead...for good?
Who knows.
*shrugs*
If my danged SCANNER WOULD WORK *glares at evil scanner, which is downstairs at the moment, collecting large sums of dust*
But anyways~!
^^
Happy Easter-was-yesterday day, peoples!
One of my sisters went to NY last week and brought me back
The World's.
Largest.
Hershey's.
Kiss.
*throws confetti!*
My god, the thing is HUGE
O.o
But somehow, I've only eaten half the hollow part, and then there's 7 ounces of pure chocolately Hershey's original Kiss goodness.
xD
I ate chocolate yesterday. YESSSSSS...
I attempted to draw something on Paint because I felt horrible for not posting in such a long time.
...It turned out that maybe I shouldn't have brought that picture into the world.
Don't look at it, it will burn your eyes with virtual pineapple acid!
ACID, I TELL YOU!
Dum dum dum dum duee dum~
I'm so bored.
And my guitar, Rise, is being a serious JERK.
*glares at Rise*
Rachel, help meeeeeee!
And gosh darnit, I'm so bored.
>.<
I have a weird urge to draw some fan art of my own stories.
Self absorbed, much?
*slaps self*
I miss you all!
*throws cookies everywhere*
And by god, I swear, if I hear ONE MORE TIME that they're 'bakees', not 'cookies', I will shove them down someone's throat.
Cookie is a DUTCH word meaning 'little cake'.
It has NO MEANING WHATSOEVER as to what method you use
to make them crisp and edible.
>.>

~Choco