Monday, July 30, 2007

I am the emo queen who's not really emo. Fear me. T_T
Okay. *sigh* I got good news and bad news. THe bad news is, our computer crashed and had to be completely restarted.
The good news, my writers block has finally passed. And now for the response to comments.

Alphonse13: *sigh* Yup. It was a pretty crappy morning. Turned out to be an alright day though. I mean, nobody died and I managed to not go on a psycho killing-spree, so, yeah, it wasn't that bad.

Ashes to Ashes: Thanks, man. ^^

Shallow Heart: *sigh* If only I had ear-muffs. I have head-phones though. Maybe I could go to sleep to the lullaby of screamo rock. ^^ Fun, fun.

Homsar88: You hate emo's...? Uh, I'm chronically depressed... does that count? PLEASE DON'T HATE ME!! >.<

redmoonchick:*starry anime eyes of hope* I'M a queen....? 0.0

Anyway... today was alright, I guess. Went to an extremely short party. Didn't do much besides eat.
Oh, and I went shopping at Wallmart.
Got a tunic, a tank-top, and a blazer. Yeah, they're pretty cute despite the fact they make me look like a hooker. A cute hooker, though. ^^

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Sunday, July 29, 2007

I.HATE.TODAY.ALREADY.
Warning: You are about to receive a warning.
Warning: I feel like a total attention whore today. So forgive me I seem a bit desperate.
T__T I've been denied all the best ultra sex....
Oy... I.HATE.THIS. Smells like chlorine and sweat down here. Yummy.'-_- I shouldn't have woken up this early. it's 7' o fucking clock in the morning.*kicks random stone*
Damn it....

Yeah, "faded glory."
Because torn and tattered is the new black.
So, honey, congrats.
Because if he's the new cancer, then you're the new heart-attack.
And God knows I wouldn't leave shadows to save my life.
You have no idea how painful it would be if half of this came to light.
It's better off not known.
And I'm better off not being shown.
All dressed up with no place to go.

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Friday, July 27, 2007

The sounds of this small town make my ears hurt (make my ears hurrrrrrrt!)
Damn it. The urges are getting more and more frequent. T-T I'm losing my mind here! *head-butts random wall* AND I'VE GOT WRITERS BLOCK UP TO MY EARS!!!! Which really doesn't make any sense considering how much I've been reading lately. I mean, they're all really good books, I should have gotten at least ONE good idea by now. ''''''''-_-
Oy.... It feels like I'm dying. I need distractions...

Techno dancing, plux?

XD

"My roommate's a woman named Mitch." XDDD

*sigh* Now my brother is on my ass because he wants to get on. He's been such a bitch lately. '-__- Anyway, I ain't got nothing left to say, so...
THERE ARE DEAD SCENE KIDS LIVING IN MY CLOSET!

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Tuesday, July 24, 2007

I ROCK THE PROJECTS!
*deep breath* Okay... Me need M.S.I. LIKE, NOW!!

Amfthhsfsgs....Bitch-slapping ahoy!

10 mins later...
*sigh* I feel horrible. I just had to put my beloved baby sister to bed and she HATES going to bed. Oy... She was crying so loud when I left the room. Poor Valerie.T_T
Anyway... I've been under a lot of pressure lately, guys.
Well, actually it's more of an anxiety but still... I feel like I'm being half-crushed, half suffocated to death. '-__- *sigh* What's wrong with me? I feel like I'm about implode. I need to blow off some steam.
Oh, and something a little out of the ordinary happened to me today.When I was at the pool, some cute guy caught me stalking him. And when I smiled at him, HE.SMILED.BACK!!! ^///^ Yeah, I know it doesn't sound like much, but no guy outside of my family EVER smiled at me before. So yeah, go me.

Anyway, back to my angst. Errr, I've been having some writers block. And some really odd urges. Well, it's not so much the urges that are odd as much as it is how long they last. I mean, lately, I've been so horny and lonely for DAYS at a time. Usually that only lasts for a few hours or so.'-__- Oy... What's wrong with me?
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Sunday, July 22, 2007

Yo! (The Catalyst, chapter 8:WANNA PLAY STALKER?) Sorry about length
Robert:Pants!
Me: Yes. Pants... Skirts suck. Despite the fact that I'm wearing a dress.'-__- Anyway...

This couldn’t be happening. Jason Wenterz, notorious Rock ’n’ Roll cool guy, had just accidentally blurted out one of the most intimate phrases in his vocabulary to a total stranger. And who the schizophrenic chicken was the girl on the other end of the line anyway? ‘Wrong number, maybe?’ thought Jay. Maybe. It was possible. Then again, it was also possible Shant might have accidentally left his cell-phone with the young lady Jay was currently talking to. ‘Well, I might as well ask if he’s there just to make sure.’

“Hello…?” The young girl asked when Jay didn’t respond right away. “Dude, you still there?”

“Um, yeah. Hi. This is Jason. Is Shanty there? Who’s this?” Pause… From the sound of things (or lack, thereof) the girl obviously had no idea who Jason was. Or, at least, no idea that Jason was Shanty’s uncle. This, however, considering Shanty’s frequent embarrassment of being related to a “sellout Punk Princess” like Jason Wenterz, was not at all sufficient proof that this young lady didn’t know Shanty.

“This is Megan.” She still sounded somewhat suspicious. “Also known as Aaya. Also known as Jomomma. Also known as- hey! Wait a minute, you’re Jason Wenterz, aren’t you?!” As she identified him as the superstar he was, the incredulous suspicion in her voice decreased by a few (thousand) notches. Jason knew what came next: the squeal. The “OHMYGAWD, I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M TALKING TO A CELEBRITY!!” squeal.
Nevertheless, he still answered: “Yup. That’s me.”
And sure enough, the second after his stardom was confirmed, there it was. The squeal. Only, in Aaya’s/Jomomma’s/Megan’s case, it was more like a scream. One word: OUCH. One sentiment: “Oh, my poor ear-drums!”
“OH.MY.GAWWWWWD. Dude, I LOVE your band! I have, like, every one of your C.D.’s! I swear, ‘Let’s All Slit Our Wrists and Burn Down Something Beautiful’ was the C.D. that got me through middle school.”
“Um, that’s awesome. But, uhhh, is Shanty there or…?” Pause. (Dear Gawd, this Megan person paused a lot!)
“Uh, yeah, dude. He’s here. Hold on, lemme see if I can find him…But before I do, quick question: you wouldn’t happen to have the phone-numbers of, say, Ritzka Alichino, Mikey Ralphson, Jack Marin, and Gabe Saporta, would you?”
Jason sighed. Oh, so it was the phone numbers of her 4 top celebrity crushes she wanted, was it? Well, too bad for her. All 4 of those “kids” were Jasons close friends and he knew perfectly well that all of them were far too busy with their demanding music careers to take time out to listen to the ramblings of a hyper-active teenage fan-girl. However, he was short on time and even shorter on long-distance minutes for his phone, so he decided to choose a shorter answer.
“Yes, I do. But, I REALLY need to talk to Shanty, so can you please just-”
“LOOK, WENTERZ.” Megan interrupted, in a tone that was the very definition of commanding. “ Here’s the dealio- You give me the numbers, I give you Shanty. No numbers, no message. Capice?” Surprise, surprise. No intimidation whatsoever with this one.
“WHAT?!” Said Jay, unable to believe he was being threatened by a mere teenage girl he had never even met.
“You heard me.” Megan sounded so determined and confident it made Jason went to throttle her. “Oh, and before I forget, what’s up with you wanting my home-girl, Belinda, to be co-lyricist? I mean, that’s just wack, man.” Pause. (“AHHH, NOW SHE’S MAKING ME DO IT!!”-Jason Wenterz.)
“Wait. YOU know Yuki, er, Belinda…?”Blink, blink. Bewilderment, disbelief.
“Hell yeah, boy! She’s my homeh. In fact, if this whole high-school thing doesn’t work out for us, we’re planning on dropping out of school and becoming dreaming, loveless hobos together. She’s gonna be PattyCakez and I’m gonna be Jomomma. ‘Cuz that’s how we rolllllllllz, Wenterz.” One could tell by the slight suburban twang in Megans voice that she was obviously from some part of Pennsylvania.
More blink, blink. More bewilderment, disbelief. Jason got the feeling that if he stayed on the line with Megan much longer he would subsequently re-grow his puberty. (Apparently her immaturity and spontaneous hyperness was contagious.) “And you’re changing your names, why…?” He asked, not knowing what else to ask besides “Can I PLEAASSE talk to Shanty?” again.
“Because Megan and Belinda don’t sound nearly loveless or hobo-ish enough. Now, are you gonna give me those phone-numbers or what?”
Sigh, sigh. Frown, frown. ‘I give up, I give up.’ “Fine.” Sighed Jay, obviously frustrated. “But right after I give you the numbers, you WILL let me talk to Shant. Got it?”
“Yup, yup.” Chirped Megan blithely, happy now that she had gotten her way. At the sound of said chirp, the vein in Jasons temple which pulsated when he was angered or agitated nearly burst out of his skull. Oh, how he wished Shanty had picked up the phone instead of this Megan girl, whoever the Hell she was….
4 PHONE NUMBERS OF DROP-DEAD GORGEOUS ROCKSTARS LATER….
“There!” Said Jay, exasperated. “I gave you ALL the numbers you asked for- can I PLEASE talk to Shanty NOW??”
“Um…. No.” Megans voice was as a timid as that of a ditzy, pistol-wielding A.F.I. fan-girl who had just accidentally shot Davie Havoc and was now being confronted by her fellow A.F.I. fans.
Jason was furious. “WHAT?!! WHY THE --- NOT?!!?!” He screamed, wanting not only to throttle her now but to violently massacre her entire family too.
“Because, uhhh, I have no idea who Shanty is. You must’ ve accidentally dialed the wrong number. Sorry, Wen-Wen.” Well, she sure didn’t sound sorry. “Oh, but, really, why should I be?” She was probably thinking. “I mean, Wenterz here has deceived and manipulated people far worse, for far longer, and with far more cruelty than I am even capable of. It’s barely even karma for him to be tricked into giving up a few phone numbers now.” Oh, how Jason wanted to hurt her, slap her, strangle her, shake her; it didn’t matter, as long as he caused some damage.
“WHAT?!” He started to scream again than took a deep breath and remembered something. And that something? That it would be so much more effective to slip into the role of the ultimate victim and take her on the guilt-trip to Hell than to just scream obscenities at her all day. Besides, the guilt-trip would only take about 2 minutes. Much shorter than screaming at her would. ‘Okay, acting time.’ He thought. And sure enough, a half instant later, there was his imaginary acting coach/director, at the back of his head, right on cue. Right on cue, feeding him the lines that would make Megans’ unsuspecting heart sink or shatter. Whichever came first. And Jason was hoping it would be the latter.
When Mr.Over-cunning did speak again, his voice was soft and the very definition of injured. No more anger. No more cussing. No more screaming. Instant transformation. “I… I don’t understand,” he stammered. “If I had the wrong number and you knew it, then why…?” Oh, here we go again, another dramatic pause. Dot, dot, dot… “Then why didn’t you tell me? Why’d you lie and stall for time like that? I mean… Are you sure you’re a Mobile Fallout Shelter fan? Because not many fans I know would just use the bassist of their favorite band like that.” Jay paused for a minute to let the beginning of his so-far brilliant performance sink in…. and to see if it was working.
No answer. She hadn’t hung up on him, but she remained silent. Oh, yeah, it was definitely working. And why shouldn’t it? After all, Jason was such a gifted actor to a point where he could almost be considered a hypnotist. In fact, if you were watching from behind the scenes, you could almost hear the director at the back of his head whispering in his ear: “The audience, give them innocence.”
Camera man, keep rolling. Actors and actresses, keep role-ing.
“Give them sincerity.”
Keep role-ing.
“Give them guileless vulnerability.”
Keep role-ing.
“Give them complete, utter pitiable injury without the slightest hint of it being your fault.”
Keep role-ing.
“Give them… a one-liner.”
Cut and print.

Jason took care of the cut by terminating the call while the imaginary camera crew handled the print. By now, he was just brimming with malice and Megan-afflicting bliss. The directors acting instructions had worked again, just like always. By the end of the call, she had been just over-flowing with heavy-hearted guilt. Success. Even if she had gotten the phone-numbers, Jason had still managed to spoil it for her. “Shyeah, nobody [messes] with me and gets away with it.” He bragged to the empty room with an evil sneer adorning that morbidly juvenile face of his. Of course, this malicious joy he got from walking away the so-called “winner” would only last so long. After that, he would go back to the empty miserable loneliness which had been haunting him ever since he could remember. It was a very queer feeling. A mix of anger and meaninglessness. Insignificance, even. Sometimes he would even descend below that into a state of numbness where it felt as if everything was all one big vague, surreal dream. All one big vague, surreal dream of which he might awaken from any moment. During those times, it was almost as if he was android. He walked, he talked, he ate, he sang the backing vocals, he played the bass, he drank… He did everything automatically and without much feeling as if he was just a machine who had been programmed to do all these things. But, hey, that’s quite enough emo writing for one day. Fast-forward to the part where Jason tries to call Shanty again, and this time, MAKES SURE he dialed the right number. And, sure enough, he did. The bad news is, he got his nephews answering machine.
Which made sense, considering due to Shantys’ career as a night-shift-working fry-cook, he was nocturnal. In fact, he had probably gotten home from work at about 6’o clock in the morning. Therefore, he was most likely still asleep. Well, too bad for Shanty. Jason just couldn’t wait. After all, his career was at stake here! Besides, Shanty was a light-sleeper anyway, so the ringing of the phone would probably wake him up.
“…Please leave a message after the beep.” Instructed the machine. BEEP! “Hey, Shanty,” said Jay, casually. “How ish you? Been a while, hasn’t it?” Pause… No answer. “Look, dude, I know you’re there…” Jason warned. Still, no answer. Jay was getting somewhat desperate now. “Aw, man, I’ve got something REALLY important to tell you! C’mon, Shanty, pick up, pick up, pick up, pick up, pick up, pick up, pick up!” Surprise, surprise: still no answer. Okay, now Jason was getting REALLY desperate. Therefore, let the stating of empty threats begin! “Shanty, if you don’t get your ass out of that bed right now and answer the damn phone, then I’m going to come over there and slice up every last [beep]ing one of your Defying Destiny records!” And, to his delighted surprise, he heard the phone being picked up… and then, to his discouragement, hung up again. Evidently the young ex-stalker was not at all in the mood for a conversation with his rock-star uncle. ‘Well, tough [luck], Shanty,’ thought Jay, as he called the “disrespectful little punk of a nephew” back.
The phone rang once.
Twice.
Thrice.
Four times.

And then came the voice mail. “… Please leave a message after the beep,” instructed the machine again. Beep. “Dude, that was cold!” Jay informed the sleep-deprived fry-cook, probably still tangled up in the covers of his bed. “I mean, I’m your [blank] damn uncle, for God’s sake! Have some respect!” Shanty was probably blinking sleepily and rolling his eyes at this point. Jason sighed. If things continued like this, the boy would just hang up on him again. When Mr. Regular-decorated-emergency (A.K.A. Jason) did speak again, his voice was more sensitive, more apologetic. “Look, dude, I’m sorry I woke you up so soon and disturbed your beauty sleep but this is really, really, REALLY important! Seriously. I could lose my job over this, so-” His explanation was interrupted by the sound of the phone being picked up. And then, Shanty’s sleepy, groggy-sounding voice: “Whaddaya want?”
“Oh, uh, hi. Um, I need you to watch over someone for me. Kinda like you did with that 1 girl a couple years ago, only I’d be paying you for it.” Pause…
Sigh. “I thought I told you I gave up stalking. It’s unhealthy for me, Uncle Jay. And how could you lose your job over this person? What does HE have to do with your group of musical Punk Princess’s, anyway?” Musical Punk Princess’s… That meant Mobile Fallout Shelter. (Well, at least it was better than “Mobile Fag-out Shelter.”)
“Um, it’s a ‘she,’ actually, Shanty. And, if you must know, she’s supposed to be the new co-lyricist for my musical Punk Princesses.”
“CO-LYRICIST….?” He repeated, in a disbelieving murmur.
“Yes. Co-lyricist.”
Pause… Shanty was surely either very shocked or very confused at this point.

“You still there, Shan-Shan?” Asked Jay, when it took too long for the boy to answer.
“Yeah. But Uncle Jason, I thought YOU were The Human Shields PRIMARY lyricist. I mean, the only time you ever had help with the lyrics was in the beginning when Mikey pitched in a little.”
Jason sighed. “Yeah, boy. I know, I know. I know.” He said this as if he had just been reminded of a dear relative’s death. But the reality wasn’t that far from this analogy. For, it was the death of a dream and the death of his pride. And, except for friendship and the love of his nieces and nephews, he held almost nothing dearer.
After this, there was a somewhat awkward pause in which the matter was soundlessly dropped and the topic of conversation shifted. “So…” Shanty began, “how much would you be paying me to look after this girl?”
“Oh, about $120, 999, 000. Sound fair? I mean, I only need you to look after her for a week or 2 and she lives practically right next to you, like, right in your neighborhood, so…?”
“Um, yeah, that sounds fair. I’ll definitely consider the job. But if I do say yes, and only IF, how would I identify her?”
“Oh. Her name’s Belinda Sacko. She’s about 5 foot, 7 inches tall. She’s got shoulder-length, dark brown hair with sandy blonde streaks here and there. She’s got a very feminine bone-structure and if she were any skinnier, she’d be anorexic.”
Shanty just blinked. So far, the “new Jason Wenterz” sounded like almost every other young girl he’d ever known. “Okay…”
“And, uh, one more thing, Sha-Sha.” Okay, here was the fact Jay been DREADING having to admit.
“Yeah?”
Embarrassed pause. Dot, dot, dot, dot… “She’s only 15.”
“WHAT?!”
“Yeah, I know. She’s a little young, but…”
“UNCLE JAY, ARE YOU BLOODY MAD?!!?! SHE’S STILL A DAMN HIGH-SCHOOL STUDENT, FOR GOD’S SAKE!! SHE’S NOT EVEN OLD ENOUGH TO WORK AS A WAITRESS MUCH LESS AS A LYRICIST FOR A WORLD-RENOWED ROCK BAND!!”
“Shanty, trust me, age doesn’t matter in this case. She could be a damn fetus, for all I care; she’s still a bloody poetic genius.”
“Uncle Jay…” he sighed. “Don’t you get it? This means you’re replacing yourself with a 15-YEAR-OLD GIRL. And not only that, but a total nobody of a 15-year-old girl. I mean, you could have at least hired some other celebrity, like-“
“Shanty.” Jay interrupted, in a firm voice. “First of all, Belinda is an ADDITION to the band, not a replacement. And second, you can call me crazy for saying she’s a poetic genius all day, but first just listen to what she wrote…” He then read the lyrics he had stolen from Yuki out-loud to Shanty. It was a fairly short poem so it didn’t take any longer to read than about a minute or less. Still, every line was over-flowing with so much emotion and so much power to make the listener feel emotion, that at the end of the little semi-song, Shanty couldn’t help but say: “Wow…”
“Yeah. I know.” There was more than a note of solemn acknowledgement of the fact that poetically-speaking the girl was more skilled than him, as he said this.
“And you’re SURE she’s only 15?”
“Well, according to her mother, she’ll be 16 on her birthday, but for the time being, yeah, she’s 15.”
“Okay. So what would I have to protect her from?”
“Oh, just make sure she doesn’t get hurt too badly.”
“Hurt TOO BADLY?” Shanty repeated, obviously confused as too Jasons definition of “hurt too badly.”
“Yeah. And keep her away from Vashou Malluste if he ever shows up.”
“Um, fine. But would be your standards of ‘hurt too badly’?” Pause…

“Just keep her alive.” His voice was as grim and fore-boding as that of an executioner announcing that he would now be killing the guilty defendant. “Weather the risk of death be accidental or on-purpose, KEEP.HER.ALIVE.”
Shanty was about to ask what Jay meant by the possibility of the risk of death being on-purpose, but before he could, Jay cut to the chase: “So, how about it, Shanty? Wanna play stalker?”

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Thursday, July 19, 2007

Read it and laugh.
Because we're all too damn apathetic to care, much less cry.
And you're only one last scar away from losing all your humanity.
But the REALLY sad part is, according to you, you're better that way.
"Keep your head above water?" No, forget the water and waves- just keep your heart above the flames.
Because when apathy is the closest you'll ever get to happy, you can only imagine what passion will do to you.
Espscially when you've got no one to share it with.
But if it's any consolation, that last "I don't need you" was only half true.
Because this so-called "immunety" to being lonely only works half the time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is called "THINGS I'LL NEVER SAY TO THE LOVER I'LL NEVER KNOW." And I am so lonely, I could throw up.
Good night.
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Sunday, July 15, 2007

*deep breath* Okay. I haven't got much time so I need to make this quack. First of, I'm gonna be on vacation for the next week, in North Carolina, so if I don't come to your sites, you know why. Second, I'm sorry I didn't visit you today, A13. My computer is acting up and won't let me come to your site.
Third, THANK.YOU.SO.MUCH for reading my story.
And, forth:congratulate me, people. I had my very first beer today. I mixed it with Coke so my mom couldn't tell what it was. ;) Dude, I was SO drunk on the way home. The radio station played "Hey-ya" on the way home and I was bouncing around and singing to it like a retard.
Robert: Yeah it was halerious! (sp?)
Me:Yesh. XD Anyway, like I said, I'm gonna be gone for a week, so good-bye. I LOVE YOU ALL!!!! I'MA GONNA MISS YOU SOOOOOOOO MUCHHHHHHH!!! ;~; *hug of death*~Shadowme(The lonely vacationing Yuki)~
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Saturday, July 14, 2007

The Catalyst, chaptor 7:TACTICS (w00t! cameos!)
(Authors/narrators note: unfortunately I was not present for the occurrence of the following events. But for the sake of this story, everybody’s favorite human Mardi Gras decoration has recounted them to me. [Because, obviously, since I’m writing it down, everything in this story already happened.] So, anyway, here we go…)

Jason Wenterz was not happy.
And in case you can’t tell by his worried expression, anxious incoherent muttering, sweaty palms, and his avid pacing in a frantic circle threatening to ware a hole in the linoleum floor of his room, he was also not relaxed. Or confident. But luckily for the Mobile Fallout Shelter-hating, Sunday school-attending, oh-so-aggravatingly narrow-minded Mormon family across the street, he also wasn’t quite in a trigger-happy mood either…. Or, at least, not yet he wasn’t. (Be afraid, Mobile Fallout Shelter-haters of the world. Be very afraid.) Now, we’re not psychologists—or even psychics, for that matter; but if we had to guess, we’d say Jason’s alleged potential blood-bath of a break-down was somewhere between an anxiety attack and a melt-down. So, yeah. He ain’t doing so well. However, I’m sure you would be a bit anxious too if your manager had just informed you that you had only one month to shoot a music video, convince some cyber poet in Baltimore to re-consider being your bands co-lyricist, present said cyber poets stolen lyrics to the composers of said band, and defeat your oh-so-uncompromising spell of writers block, while simultaneously preparing for the impending year-long tour of Asia, on which your biggest rival has been scheduled to accompany you. And then, as if all this weren’t enough, now imagine that your nephews and nieces, who you love like your own children, are not speaking to you because apparently you’ve been “neglecting” them. Yeah. Um, would you like extra angst with that?

“Dead-lines, dead-lines…” Jay half-growled, half-muttered; “Damn it. I need more time!” And, indeed, he did. After all, everything- and we mean EVERYTHING- was blowing up at once. His family life, his career, his poetry, his rivalry- they were all going boom AT EXACTLY THE SAME TIME! And what did Jay have to show for it so far? One song. No, not even a song, but melody-less LYRICS to a song. Oh, sure, the lyrics were brilliant, there was no denying that. The kid-“What was her name again? Yuki Whoever…?”- had done a great job. But still- ONE potential song! One measly little semi-song! That was it! Oy… It was times like this where Jason wished he could just disappear into the oxygen molecules.
But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. So let’s clear one thing up first: Yes, the lyrics we’re talking about were in fact the ones written on the paper Jason had made a copy of yesterday. In other words, the ones from Yuki’s portfolio. In other words, YUKI’S lyrics. Yeah, I know, I know, Jay had PROMISED the girl that he wouldn’t steal her poem. But that was only the rhyme on the FRONT side of the paper. The one on the other side was another matter. Nobody had EVER said anything about those lyrics. And, okay, yeah, we admit that Jay had done a bit of surreptitious, James Bond-esque scheming/planning/sneaking in order to obtain said lyrics. But so what? What was the worst that could possibly happen? Oh, fine, so the kid would obviously recognize her own lyrics once they started playing on the radio and all that. And, yes, she would definitely be a little pissed at first and probably feel a little taken advantage of. Not to mention, the soon-to-be song sounded extremely personal, so she probably wouldn’t be too thrilled about complete strangers listening to/reading said lyrics and thus delving into the matters of her personal life either. But then what? I mean, the so-called “out-rage” of Jay stealing her poetry was in actuality just the fact that the leader of one of her all-time favorite bands liked her rhymes so much that he wanted to make one of them into a musical, chart-topping hit. Was that REALLY so horrible? Well, Jay didn’t think so. In fact, according to him, she should be flattered! And, after all, it wasn’t as if Jason hadn’t asked her permission. He had. Not only that, he had offered her the long-term job of co-lyricist. But she turned it down. So if she didn’t want to help Jason and receive the credit for it, well, that was her problem. If she wanted obscurity, than that’s exactly what she’d get.
So, no, it wasn’t guilt that bothered him about having to use Yuki’s lyrics. What REALLY got to him was the fact that he was so desperate for lyrics that he had to use those of a FREAKIN’15-YEAR-OLD ANIME GEEK STEREO-TYPE. Not that there aren’t worse things to be than an anime geek and not that the girl wasn’t talented, but really, A ---ING HIGH-SCHOOL STUDENT? I mean, he was Jason ---ing Wenterz, the world-renowned, critically acclaimed master of incoherent poetry, the mad-hatter of the webzines, the damn prince of emo rock. What was HE doing chasing around a mere eccentric artist stereo-type? It just didn’t make any sense. None whatsoever. Then again, that was supposed to be Jays’ specialty, not making any sense. It’s true, he was 1 of those rare cases where unpredictability was both expected and predicted. (And if his queer song-writing habits aren’t proof enough for you that this is true, then you might want to consider the fact that that last sentence about him didn’t make any sense either.) And maybe that’s why he had asked Yuki for lyrical help in the first place instead of some lucrative, well-known super star like Linda Perry or Tyson Ritter or Amy Lee. Because, as stated before, people not only expected originality and spontaneous creativity from Mobile Fallout Shelter, they predicted it, they guaranteed it, they COUNTED on it. And, honestly, would it really have been so original and creative of Jason to co-write a song with some notorious it-girl/boy celebrity? Not so much. In fact, it probably would’ve been just plain boring. And so, by trying to recruit someone who was not only obscure, but under-age AND unglamorous-slash-geeky, Jay was, indeed, being original. And slightly insane. But, hey, what else is new, right? I mean, Jay and the boys have ALWAYS had a reputation of being creative to a point of insanity.(“The Only Good Thing About Divorce is You Get to Sleep with your Mother,” anyone?) And Yuki might as well be the next level of their insanity. So, I guess, when you think about it that way, technically the girl sort of fits. Besides, Mobile Fallout Shelters last album, “Well, Excuse Me While I Fake an Orgasm,” debuted had debuted in last place in “Alternative Press” magazines “10 greatest albums of the month.” It barely even placed. Which is REALLY bad, considering the M.F.O.S. C.D. before that, “Take Us To Your Grave,” debuted at 1st place and then held the spot for the next 6 months. Translation: Total down-ward spiral. In fact, at one point, one of the writers for Alternative Press’s exact words, when writing the review for “Well, Excuse Me While I Fake An Orgasm,” had been: “I just don’t get it. I mean, just when I was about to give Jasons lyrics a second chance, Mobile Fallout Shelter releases this mediocre bull----. Oh, don’t get me wrong, the band sounds phenomenal. And, as always, Mikey Ralphsons voice is the very definition of amazing.(Especially throughout the chorus’s of songs like “The Notch in Your Bedpost Wants To Be The Friction in Your Jeans” and “Don’t Just Stand There, Dumb Ass.”) But seriously if I have to hear one more song about getting drunk on kerosene or spitting on bridges or some Paris Hilton-wannabe standing in the way of a ‘50 foot, fire-breathing, fantastically seething human revolution,’ I might just kill someone. Possibly Jason Wenterz.” Yeah. Like I said, total downward spiral Oh, sure, almost everybody had purchased the C.D. Sure, due to all the publicity and praise the band had received for their previous C.D., the record sails had been through the roof. And, yeah, of course the 2 most popular hits on the C.D., “Emily” and “The Notch in Your Bed-post wants to be The Friction in Your Jeans,” had indeed received a lot of appreciated—and often requested—time on the air-waves. But almost no one had liked the C.D. in its entirety. Almost no one considered it the master-piece Jason, Mikey, Brent, and Andy had wanted it to be. This, of course, was the fault of Jay’s writers block. You see, the majority of the songs on “Well, Excuse Me While I Fake an Orgasm!” had such horrible lyrics that not even Mikeys’ ingenious melodies and astoundingly brilliant vocals or everyone else’s phenomenal musical skill could compensate enough for them. And thus began the love/hate relationship between Jasons lyrics and whoever listened to or read them. In other words, if Jason continued to singe-handedly write the words, then there was a good chance people would give up on Jason as a lyricist. And if people gave up on Jason as a lyricist, everyone would stop buying his bands records. And no one wanted to produce a band who couldn’t sell a record. Meaning, Mikey, Andy, Jay, and Brent would be out of a job. Either that, or the band would give up on Jay before the fans did, and Jay would lose his job as lyricist. Permanently. And that would just plain suck, because in case you can’t tell by the fact Jason has been The Human Shields primary lyricist for more than 4 years now, Jay LIKED writing the words. It was his passion. So, yes, as much as it killed Jay to admit it, or even think about it, he NEEDED Yuki. Weather he liked it or not—and Jason definitely did not—they needed Yuki. So he might as well get over his pride while he still had some. At this point, his arrogance would only get in the way. Besides, this whole “hiring-the-most-unlikely-candidate” thing might be fun. “And who knows,” Jay murmured, with a shrug, taking a momentary break from the pacing; “maybe having someone as obscure and unglamorous as that chick around will even give me some kinda edge.” Or at least, that was the plan.

But in the mean-time, Jay had to make sure the girl stayed completely unknown and unemployed to Mobile Fallout Shelters competition. Well, no, perhaps “competition” is too broad of a phrasing. After all, EVERY loser with a record deal was their competition. No, what they really needed to watch out for was one competitor in particular. What they REALLY needed to worry about was a certain flamboyant, slacking, sabotaging, lanky, guitar-playing Attention Whore finding out. Yes, we mean THAT Attention Whore. Vashoutoh Malluste, the bitter ex-bassist of Paranoia! Academy, the “will-yaoi-for-attention” current guitarist of Dashi & The Attention Whores. And don’t let the slacker attitude fool you. We assure you, he’s an evil genius. He is malevolent, he is deceptive, he is manipulating, and he is extremely thorough. He is also not above cheap sabotage and cheaper yaoi incest gimmicks with his brother, Dashi. (Yeah, they don’t call them The Attention Whores for nothing.) So you can only imagine how much of a disaster it would be for Mobile Fallout Shelter if Vashou found out about the girl. But fortunately, even if you can’t imagine how much of a disaster it would be for Mobile Fallout Shelter, Jason can. And even if Jason can’t describe it, Yuki can. And will. Therefore, allow me to state the unstated: For one thing, Vashou might blab to the paparazzi about it. For another, while doing this he might make the story of the connection between Jay and Yuki even more embarrassing by implying to said paparazzi that Jay had FORCED the job of co-lyricist on Yuki with the threat of something along the lines of rape or sodomy or murder. Or, before going to the paparazzi, he might try to black-mail Jason with the information first. The best possible out-come would be, the conniving little Attention Whore would give the information to the media then spread a bunch of insane rumors somewhere along the lines of: “Oh, Jason was just taking credit for the bass-playing and back-up singing the entire time. Yuki’s the REAL bassist-slash-back-up singer! AND she wrote the real lyrics for all the good Mobile Fallout Shelter songs, too!” Hell, the sneaky little succubus might even do all that, and then convince Yuki to work for The Attention Whores. “Oh, but how could someone possibly be capable of making people believe such outrageous lies?” That’s what you’re thinking, right? Well, like we said: Vashoutoh is an evil genius. AND a talented actor. In fact, he was almost as convincing and cunning as Jason himself. So, does Jasons anxiety about the possibility of Vash discovering his secret make sense now?... No? Well, put it this way: If Vashoutoh finds out, then all Hell breaks lose. Okay? Okay.

But even if no one did find out, Jay still had to worry about Yuki herself. After all, just because she was millions of miles away from Vashoutoh or any other sleazy Hollywood serial user type, that didn’t guarantee she would remain unharmed. Or even alive, for that matter. And what do we mean by that, you wonder? Does that mean Yuki is in danger of being assonated by Hello Kitty’s evil clone and demon-possessed Care Bears, you wonder? Um, no. (Yeah, sorry folks. No evil plush toys Vs. incoherent rock stars action here.) You see, more than half of the little semi-poets rhymes/poems/notes were completely melancholy. As in, down-right emo-tastic. In fact, some of them, such as “Blood-stains on Window-panes,” were just plain suicidal. Excerpt: “She said: ‘Shut up. Because with all these contradictory emotional needs and the complexity complex to not match and always clash, you can’t afford to come clean.’ They’ve got the cure, we’ve got a war. So, suffocate me somewhere beyond the window-pane. And bury me somewhere beneath the blood-stains. Because God knows I’ve already spent my entire life being on the outside, looking in- why spend my entire death doing the same? And, I don’t know, it might just be a side-effect of being left like this. Then again, God knows I can never be sure of anything anymore. Her last words: ‘Kill me to death.’ (Just suicidal enough to be redundant.)” Um, yeah. The girl definitely had some poetic tragedy in her. And ordinarily this wouldn’t be a problem, but Jay barely knew the girl and for all he was aware of, she could be in danger of suicide. Hell, she might even be planning out how to do it as we speak. (Or, “write,” as it were.) And we must remember, Jay is at least 10,000 miles away from anywhere near Yuki, so if she were to die, he wouldn’t know. And even if did, there wasn’t much he could do about it. So if she was suicidal, or if she was even in looming danger of becoming suicidal, well, that would be a problem. Because, as we all know, dead lyricists are very hard to work with.

As this thought drifted through Jasons mind, it automatically spawned an idea. And the idea? That he should check on said alleged suicidal. How? By way of his computer, the tracking soft-ware he had on it, and the tracking device that went with it. But it wasn’t just any tracking device. Oh no, this little gadget not only revealed it’s wearers location but also measured their body temperature, blood pressure, heart rate, and told of how profusely they were using their lungs. In fact, if interpreted correctly, the information this clever little device gave could even tell the tracker the emotion of the tracked. And, in this case, the tracked would be Yuki-slash-Belinda-slash-Shadowme. (“Man, I have way too many names. Argh…”) Yes, that’s right, Belinda/Yuki had a tracking device on her. Jasons’ tracking device. And how did Jasons tracking device get on Yuki? Simple. Jason had put it on her. When? Right before Yuki left with her mother at the air-port. How? By getting her out of the supervision of her mother long enough to put the tracking device on her back and then distract her with a kiss on the fore-head so she would be too freaked out to feel the small, mechanical, metallic dot on her spine. Translation: the kiss at the air-port had been nothing but a distraction. A tactic. And Yuki/Belinda/Shadowme had fallen for it. Which is why she had absolutely no idea-or even a shadow of one- that she was being tracked and practically stalked from Jays computer. She was also completely oblivious to the fact that Jay was currently hunched over said computer, absorbing whatever information about Yuki it had to feed him. And it did, indeed, have information to feed him.

As Belinda’s heart-beat pulsated through 1 corner of the screen, Jay’s auburn gaze fell on the digital clock located at the bottom left corner of it. The girl lived in Maryland, Jason lived in Illinois. So if it was [INSERT TIME HERE] in Chicago… then, that meant it was about 12:30 in Baltimore. About an hour or so after lunch, for her. In other words, Yuki was still in school. (“Or, at least, she is if she goes to public school,” thought Jason.)The tracker, which currently dominated the majority of the screen, proved Jasons assumption right. She was, indeed, still in school. The weird part was, she was in the bath-room. (Or, at least, Jason guessed she was in a bath-room because said room was far too small to be anything else.) And why was that weird? Well, it’s just a bit odd that her heart was throbbing violently; she was feverishly hot, breathing like mad, and sweating as if she were in a sauna, despite the fact that she was standing perfectly still. In a bath-room. Which, to Jay, meant one of four things: 1: she had just vomited; 2: she was crying, 3: she was dangerously constipated; or 4: she was so sick to a point of deliriousness in which the toilet bore an uncanny resemblance to Johnny Depp. (“Hmmm…. Yuki + the toilet. BEST CELEBRITY COUPLE EVER!”- Jay Wenterz.)

Now, it was this part of the job that was going to be challenging. Oh, sure, Jason knew were Yuki was, how fast her heart was beating, and how warm her body was. But he had no idea WHY she was there, why her heart-rate was so fast, or why her body was that temperature. Or what she intended to do about it. Oh, yeah, sure, he had THEORIES as to why. But theories are just guesses, meaning they really don’t guarantee anything. And if Jason guessed wrong about something, well, then what? Come to think of it, what would happen if he even guessed right? After all, as stated before, the 2 were more than 200 miles away from each other. If something happened to Yuki, what could Jason possibly do about it from over 200 miles away? It was these questions and this semi-paranoid self-doubt that led Jay to the hatching of another idea. And that idea? A body-guard. A body-guard for Yuki. But not just any body-guard. Oh, no, not just any protective, impersonal, unsmiling, stereo-typical, intimidating, gargantuan hulk of a body-guard, but what Jason called a “ninja body-guard.” Now, a ninja body-guard was the next best thing to a guardian angel. They were agile, they were strong, they were compact, they were durable, they were just protective enough to be convenient, and, for added safety, they had stealth bordering on invisibility. (Key part of sentence: STEALTH BORDERING ON INVISIBLITY.) Translation: If one of these “Ninja Bodyguards” was making sure Yuki never got hurt TOO severely and was always watching over here without her knowledge, therefore said bodyguard would never get caught in the act, then not only would Yuki remain unharmed but Jason wouldn’t have to expose his latest potential scandal to her too early. And thus everything would go according to plan. (BWAHAHHAHAHA!…. Sorry. Couldn’t resist.)

The only 2 problems with this plan were: 1.) Ninja body-guards were unbelievably rare and hard to find. And: 2.) even when you did manage to find one, they were EXTREMELY expensive. But luckily, Jason just happened to be related to a ninja body-guard. Well, no, perhaps “body-guard” isn’t the right word to describe Jays’ pretty little nephew. But Shanty was definitely a ninja something. That much was certain. After all, the boy had spent 5 years of his life stalking one of his class-mates and had NEVER once been caught. Oh, Shanty had never attacked said class-mate or anything, of course. But nevertheless, he had been there. He had always been there. The only reason he had stopped stalking was because his secret obsession/class-mate had died in a car accident. Shanty had been the one to dial 911 when she was hit. But by the time the paramedics arrived, the poor girl was already dead. And Shanty had watched her die. Watched her die and watched her live. Watched her until the very last. After that, he realized how much of an unhealthy habit his little hobby had become. Besides, now that SHE was gone, in Shanty’s mind, there was just no one else worth watching. Thus ended his career as a stalker. After that, he had told come to Jason with the secret story of where he had been these last 5 years. For some reason, Jason had been the only person Shanty could bring himself to tell. Of course, Jay being the incoherent poet he was, the poor little ex-stalkers memoirs were completely wasted on him. In fact, Mr. Nonsense-pants’ exact words to his nephew had been: “Hey, little guardian angel. Are you as obsessed with obsession as I am?” Of course, Jay Wen had been the only one who understood this remark. But it was actually quite comprehendible. For, that was what the boy had been: a guardian angel. A ninja body-guard, only better. And his stalked had been the guarded. Because throughout the 5 years Shanty had spent on his obsession, he had defended her countless times. Twice when she had been about to be mugged. Once when she was escaping from a burning building. Once when she had nearly fallen to her death. And more. It had been a mere 2 years since the death of Shanty’s obsession and the end of his hobby. He still hadn’t told anyone except Jason and his mother. Every now and then he surreptitiously followed his cousins around just for thrill of the stalk.
It was occasions like this that proved Shanty definitely hadn’t lost his touch over the long hiatus he had taken after his obsessions death. He still never got caught. Ever. Therefore, he would make the perfect bodyguard/guardian “angel” for Yuki.

Which, of course, is why the first thing Jason did once he established Yuki needed more “guaranteed safety” was dial Shanty’s phone-number. Or, at least, what he THOUGHT was Shanty’s phone number… (Patience, dear readers. You’ll find out what we mean by that soon enough.) Now, Jason being the vain, relentless attention addict he was, he just couldn’t help having the urge to sound attention-seizingly “badass”/insidious that afternoon. And evidently he also just couldn’t help not even bothering to suppress that urge either. So, once he heard the phone being answered by what sounded uncannily like the voice of his 20-year-old nephew, the first thing out of his mouth was a suggestive, playful: “Hey, guardian angel. Are you as obsessed with obsession as I am?” Pause…
“Huh…? Wait, what? Who the Hell is this?!” Came the half confused, half incredulous reply. Jason froze. It wasn’t Shanty. At all. No, it wasn’t even a boy, but a girl with a slightly masculine-sounding voice.

Authors note: Um, yeah, about that girl with the slightly masculine-sounding voice? *CoughMEGAN!cough, cough*

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Wednesday, July 11, 2007

WANNA PLAY STALKER?
Hmmmmmmmmm......Well, I'm back from stalking. Shyeah, we were at chick fil A and this really cute guy walked in. He had a very young-looking angelic face with silken light brown hair flopping over his dark brown eyes a little.Yeah, total cuteness. And he was with an older lady who I assumed to be his mom.... or grandmom. *shrug* So naturally, I stalked them. And it was surprisingly easy because he and his mom/grand-mom were sitting at the table that was RIGHT.IN.FREAKING.FRONT.OF.OURS!(*sigh* So close yet sooo far away! '-__-) So yeah, that was fun.^^
Anyway... MUSIC TIME!


And therrrre you have it. Bye.^^~Shadowme
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Monday, July 9, 2007

THIS IS SOOO SAD

Her name was Auroura
She was only five
This is what happened
When she was alive

Her dad was a drunk
Her mom was an addict
Her parents kept her
Locked in an attic

Her only friend
was a little toy bear
It was old and worn out
And had patches of hair

She always talked to it
When no one's around
She lays there and hugs it
Not a peep of sound

Until her parents
unlock the door
Some more and more pain
She'll have to endore

A bruise on her leg
A scar on her face
Why would she be
In such a horrible place?

But she grabs her bear
And softly crys
She loves her parents
But they want her to die

She sits in the corner
Quiet but thinking,
" God, why? Why is
My life always sinking? "

Such a bad life
For a sad little kid
She'd get beaten and beaten
For anything she did

Then one night
Her mom came home high
The poor child was hit and slapped
As hours went by

Then her mom suddenly
Grabbed for a blade
It was sharp and pointy
One that she made

She thrusted the blade
Right in her chest,
" You deserve to die
You worthless pest! "

The mom walked out
Leaving the girl slowly dying
She grabbed her bear
And again started crying

Police showed up
At the small little house
They quickly barged in
Everything was as quiet as a mouse

One officer slowly
Opened a door
To find the sad little girl
Lying on the floor

It must have been bad
To go through so much harm
But at least she died
With her best friend in her arms



A child dies every day from child abuse. And if you have an ounce of pity in you for little Auroura and you hate child abuse with a passion you will repost this and help out those abused children and let them know that someone cared for them. If you don't then you should go to fucking hell, this is horrible what happened to these innocent children. It doesn't take that long to repost only about 10 seconds so please just do it. its worth it to let everyone see this.
some people are so cruel... this is terible but it hapens so much we cant ignore it.

a note from BlackMocassin15: Please don't report this for not being quizzes, we're just trying send send a message!
add ur name if u agree that this is getting bad...
1. eaklorgirl (tears coming down cheeks
2. vampiredemonperson
3. Savy5097.... Savannah
4. iluvmark99 aka nick(who is a girl! not a guy!!!)
5. hi2umoomoo
6.MidnightAngel101(TT.TT)
7. BlackMocassin15
8. Thena
9.Anime_rulezz
10.Dark_tradgdedy
11.Xbeautifle_sorrowX
12.xDeathIsMyLifex
13.Vampirechik3
14.X Shadowme X ("Poor Kid...;~;")

Hey... I'm in a rather emo mood right now... So I'm just gonna rant and rhyme alittle bit. Hope that's okay.

This is me wishing I knew how to say this.
This is me wishing there was an easier way to convey this.
This is me, this is me...
Yeah, I know either way you'll praise me for it.
But I'm not blind.And you're not deaf.
So if this fails to have any poetry at all, I'll know.
And, of course, so will you.
But you know just as well as I do that I don't do well when left like this so forgive me if I exaggerate a bit.
I am just so shocked that something like this could exist in the exact same world I live in.
The exact same world of hugs, kisses, laughter, and friend-ships.
And when it comes to the punishment, I don't really know who actually deserves it.
But I sure as hell know that these kids don't...
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