Magnifico's journal

I'm sitting here at my computer, staring in dismay at the screen. The blank stare is because I'm tired, but the dismay is from my writer's block. Because I have an essay due tomorrow, and I can't think of anything safe to write. It's a senior autobiography; a nice two to four page essay written to make the college guidance woman like me. Because she controls my future, I'm supposed to write an essay to make her like me more. But the things that have truly influenced me are by no means things I should write about.

I can't say that the happiest three hours of my life were with Evie and Drake, watching 2001: A Space Odyssey and stewing in the cannabis smoke.

I can't say that I feel like a different person for having finally bought an Incubus album (because I was previously worried that said purchase would spoil my love for their music).

I can't say that my life has been a series of mistakes and all-too-late realizations of what I should've done.

So what do I write? Bullshit. "I've always wanted to study languages."

"Philosophy interests me, as it is always very philosophical."

I don't want to go to a college where the sentiment "AP courses don't fucking matter, because it just creates that artificial idea that a standardized test makes you better than somebody" is gonna discourage the admissions people from accepting me. And I don't want to go to a college where individuality is a nice way of saying "unique, but tailored to what we're recruiting this year."

I'm so fucking confused. I'm so goddamned stunned by mental block.

This post was edited by Magnifico on Sep 18, 2003.

"Another day left waiting, alone in my room, with no calls from you"

That's how the song goes. That's how my life has gone lately. I've tried to call this girl a few times this weekend and a good many times this month, but she never seems to be around. She hasn't returned calls when I've left messages with her, with her mom, she hasn't been online. . .

It sucks.

I hate myself for being so weak, though, because I'm sure I wouldn't say what I feel if I could reach her in the first place. It seems so long ago that we talked, so long ago that the word love came up. It seems so long ago that I felt loved. That feeling of being loved has been replaced with an emptiness, with a silence inside that I've mentioned before. I feel pitiful, pathetic, broken. I feel the old weakness seeping into the strength I once found in her.

This post was edited by Magnifico on Sep 14, 2003.

I've become very aware of my surroundings lately. Not extremely perceptive; I'll never be that way. However, I rarely make such important connections as "telling a friend I'll be here" and "telling another friend I'll be here" as being contradictory. But yeah, I'm noticing small things more now. I'm noticing the weather, and how to see what's coming. I realize that it's gonna be a rainy day when that giant spider in my windowsill stays in the corner in the morning. I realize it's about to stop raining when pressure starts to build up in my head. I realize that I'm slowly becoming one with the world, joining in with that unified consciousness. Not just species, but with all things. My guinea pig seems to have calmed down a lot lately, and my cat doesn't scratch me every time I pet her. I've sort of attuned myself better to gravity. I feel completely normal when surrounded by nature, rather than bored by the lack of flashing lights and exploding cars on TV. I've started to enjoy art more; I've become more adept at music, and I feel that my tastes have begun to spread more and more. I feel great. I can't wait for the cold to come, that wonderful feeling of wrapping myself up in warmth, both physical and emotional, that always seems to come with winter. It's my time of renewal, when I feel the most energetic.

This is my time.
I feel overjoyed.

This post was edited by Magnifico on Sep 07, 2003.

So.

My computer has been taken over by some sort of lesser dæmon, it seems. My hard drive's partition has, mysteriously, disappeared. And, so far as I can tell, I've lost all my data (which, Jaz, includes a couple of songs {Ikaria, Dreamer, Randläuferin, and Seven Ways to Moonfleet u_u}), which is some heinous fuckery most foul. Heinous. Most, most foul.

Terrible times.

I have a fangirl who constantly calls me, and I feel kinda bad because I can only stand to talk to her for so long before I just can't stand her anymore. I know it's mean, but who she is just really bothers me: she's very judgemental, and claims to be very gothic, but she's like a Hot Topic Goth (if'n ya catch my meaning).

Heinous fuckery.

Called up Evie, tried to get her to go to a play with a few friends. She said she was kinda busy but would call back in about five minutes. Never called back.

I swear to God, the only thing keeping me remotely upbeat is my recent acquisition of an Incubus CD (Morning View). I don't want to lose two and a half years of information because of a virus in my computer. . .

Ach. Registration for school is tomorrow. That means getting books, and a new picture for my school ID card. And then, a physical for swimming. I'm so tired, from lack of caffeine, but I keep slugging on. Keep buggering on, as Winston Churchill used to say. I've got some new incense (as well as a hemp necklace for Evie) from this store called Freewheelin' Frank's. I think it's local, but i'm not quite sure (the store, that is: the incense is imported from India). It's called Nag Champa, and it's powerful stuff. I first caught a wiff of the stuff at my friend's house, and so I got some. This stick has lasted about an hour, maybe more. And the smell is so dominating that, if I leave my room, I can smell my house (in that all houses have a certain smell, but you have trouble smelling yours because you're used to it: that is no longer true for me). It's incredible.

Gots to see Evie again before school starst, or my spirit will be instantly broken by the onset of school. I just know it.

Ach. Back to the Precalculus summer workpack.

This post was edited by Magnifico on Aug 12, 2003.

Giving up caffeine sucks. Righteously.

I've got a massive headache. I'm sick to my stomach. And I'm pretty sure something's wrong with my reaction time now. . . I jammed my door into a concrete wall, and it took five seconds or so to feel it. Not good. It's heinous fuckery most foul. Most foul indeed.

I haven't had any personal contact with any of my friends in a while. . . I'm actually looking forward to registration day at school. I might see some of my friends there.

On a happier note, I found my Rufio CD, so at least I can agonize to some great punk lovesongs. It's a small consolation.

This post was edited by Magnifico on Aug 09, 2003.