tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58946032011-04-21T16:18:14.991-03:00Jibby-bi's BlogWelcomeJibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comBlogger1081100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1078848272863534632004-03-09T12:03:00.000-04:002004-03-09T12:07:40.140-04:00I'm sick at home today, not sure what with though. It's either oncoming chickenpox or just my stomach again. I realized today I've been forgetting to take the pills for it. Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1078454469641506952004-03-04T22:13:00.000-04:002004-03-04T22:44:10.153-04:00There is nothing to write. Honestly. I have this paranoid feeling sweeping over me, like a broom pushing dust into the cracks of wood floors. My little crevasses of sanity are filling up very fast. I'll sit and sit and sit, but then I'll just end up having to use the bathroom or my back will hurt. Those stupid human ailments bring me back into the real world. The hair in my eyes, taste in my Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1078364263971384322004-03-03T21:08:00.000-04:002004-03-03T21:40:43.090-04:00I long for spring, it's needed more than it knows. Right now in my mind it glows like salvation or plates full of food placed in front of stravation victims. I can almost taste in on the warm days it tries to visit, growing closer and closer until night falls and freezes its progress. Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1078359487056979522004-03-03T19:37:00.000-04:002004-03-03T20:21:06.373-04:00I bought myself a little wooden box from India at Pier 21. I'm quite pleased with it. Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1078279923586046262004-03-02T22:11:00.000-04:002004-03-02T22:15:01.716-04:00Well I didn't finish writing a story but that's okay. It's been a great week, Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1078187630444892742004-03-01T19:46:00.000-04:002004-03-02T17:44:16.483-04:00You said to try a ten minute writing exercise but I'm not quite sure what to write. Or what to even think about. Today I saw nothing of value. The clouds were the same, the sun was the same and the snow was just as blinding. So what was different, did I really go all day without thinking about writing? I mustn't have? There had to be some short daydream, a few words and an afterthought during Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1078171165071083122004-03-01T15:56:00.000-04:002004-03-01T16:02:20.826-04:00Today was beautiful outside. I definitely needed some sunny weather and good company to cheer me up. About the writing thing, it was one of those end of the month blues, I definitely feel like writing again. Our English student teacher is reading a peice of my writing on Weds, so I better get started on that.Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1077994896914104442004-02-28T14:37:00.000-04:002004-02-28T15:07:48.716-04:00I've thought it over and there's really no point in continuing to write. I doubt I have anything relevant to say, and if I do I don't feel that there's any point in expressing it. Now isn't like before. I don't have any stories, nothing to prove, no statements, expressions, emotions. There's just a wordless void. Sometimes I try to fill it but it goes sour and rolls over into some other part of Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1077983754724051472004-02-28T11:46:00.000-04:002004-02-28T11:58:48.340-04:00Today is either the newest day there is, or just another day.
Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1077848344020046892004-02-26T21:40:00.000-04:002004-02-26T22:21:55.250-04:00I wish I could walk around with a bag on my head. I feel so ugly. It's just once of those weeks. Here's a few lines from one of my old stories:
"It’s the middle of the day and in amongst the clean she stands, her pulsating fingertips gently caressing the windowsill. She stares outward, eyes falling just past the horizon, beyond the steadily swaying wheat fields and the mountainous area of flat Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1077760981708046822004-02-25T21:36:00.000-04:002004-02-25T22:05:51.700-04:00From my first short story:
"He's feeling old with his once ironed face now wrinkled. Deep lines dance across his face like scars. He thinks that perhaps wrinkles are just as painful as scars. A reminder of death, a shadowy death. He'll be chalk soon; dust. Burnt and spread like butter across the earth. "
The grammar and sentence structure is awful. But it was my very first story.
Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1077589041469072422004-02-23T21:07:00.000-04:002004-02-23T22:24:29.996-04:00Reta Winters made me angry today. Do you know what she said? I'll tell you what she said:
"Because Tom is a man, because I love him dearly, I haven't told him what I believe: that the world is split in two, between those who are handed power at birth, at gestation, encoded with a seemingly random chromosome determinate that says yes for ever and ever, and those like Norah, like Danielle Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1077493486586089342004-02-22T18:17:00.000-04:002004-02-22T19:58:23.030-04:00I feel so much like Rita Winters in Carol Shields novel, Unless. I keep wanting to say, "Well Rita says that novelistic characters need jobs, that seeing them work is important. People can be doctors or lawyers but it never seems real if the novel only tells about their weekends and off hours." She's right though. Rita is always quoting Danielle Westerman exactly how a child quotes a favored Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1077412801830227582004-02-21T20:49:00.000-04:002004-02-21T21:29:22.903-04:00Well, we waited in a lineup for 7 hours and didn't get on. Supposedly there was over 3000 people trying to get on planes. Right now I'm just very frustrated with humanity. It's failed me...
Who knew an airport could contain collection of some of the most vile, poisonous staff and obnixous people around. Thankfully all the people around us were really nice. After seven hours we all got to know Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1077301685526695072004-02-20T14:27:00.000-04:002004-02-20T14:30:47.983-04:00Seems they found some flight to put me on, so I'm off to Minneapolis. :(Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1077230315547098872004-02-19T18:35:00.000-04:002004-02-19T18:42:38.013-04:00Here's some crazy pictures from the massive blizzard that hit here. Correction, is still hitting here.
Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1077219488365378922004-02-19T15:23:00.000-04:002004-02-19T15:40:49.280-04:00I took the personality test and I'm a INFP. It says:
"People of this type tend to be: quiet, reserved, and kind; deeply passionate, sensitive, and easily hurt; loving and dedicated to those close to them; creative, original, and imaginative; curious and flexible in small matters; nonconforming.
The most important thing to INFPs is their deeply held beliefs and living in harmony with their Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1077067573264286922004-02-17T20:47:00.000-04:002004-02-17T21:28:51.936-04:00I've been going over my belongings trying very hard to think of something to leave you. I want something special, something that will make you smile. But how much love can I really show you through a simple object? What I really want is to be able to hold you, take your hand in mine, just be there for you. Remember those rainbows we kept seeing over our heads? Don't you think it's like the sky Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1077055367639419892004-02-17T17:39:00.000-04:002004-02-17T18:05:26.436-04:00I'm going to Minneapolis! I didn't think it was actually happening, but I'm going! My uncle is audtioning to become a "peerfessional" for Aveda and I get to be his model! We're leaving on thursday morning and coming back tuesday. I'm pretty excited. I'll miss you so much though, I wish you could come too. But I may have the internet so we'll get to talk a little bit at least.
He's taking me to Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1076958964044504392004-02-16T14:29:00.000-04:002004-02-16T15:35:06.843-04:00I feel better being downstairs than upstairs. It doesn't feel as lonely down here. Maybe it's just that there's music playing. It's such a beautiful day outside, a really beautiful day that I could've spent with you, if only I could walk straight. I was looking forward to today all last week and then I go and get sick. I'm really sorry.
I haven't felt this lonely in weeks. It's not the Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1076882686650528002004-02-15T17:59:00.000-04:002004-02-15T18:07:22.670-04:00I'd forgotten to write about this until just now.
I was thinking about holes and spaces, you know, the crevasses no one ever sees. What do you think the insides of buildings are like? The true insides? I wish I could float through an air duct, or curl up in a corner between the roof and ceiling tiles. There must be layers and layers of dust there, sheets of it just like it is right out of the Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1076882256604540222004-02-15T17:31:00.000-04:002004-02-15T18:00:11.873-04:00When I think about the world it seems so far fetched, reality becomes too surreal. I'm nestled in this little suburban home, taking the same route to and from school, walking through the same hallways to get to the same classes. Do you think it's only normal to be very scared of change? Maybe I'm just paranoid. Soon I'll be in university worrying about other things besides how much space is on Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1076783390516655852004-02-14T14:25:00.001-04:002004-02-14T14:35:13.890-04:00Do you know what happened today? I went to a thousand places and I met hundreds of new people.
Do you see me on that Kyoto street? I'm there. I stand on the edge of the crosswalk watching people go by. It's that corner where a Sony store is, next to the Pacahino parlor. There are some newspaper boxes by the traffic light. See them? They're written in Japanese. I've been standing here so long Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1076783124441376092004-02-14T14:25:00.000-04:002004-02-14T14:27:58.686-04:00I have no privacy.
Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1076716580568656982004-02-13T19:44:00.000-04:002004-02-13T19:58:54.030-04:00So I think I may have found the cause of my stomach pain. I think it's this peach juice. It's not even real peach juice. It's just this fake chemical orange looking peach flavored syrup. Maybe that's why my stomach hurts so much. Now I only have water to drink. No milk, no acidy juices, no pop, no caffine, no high sugar. The list of foods not to eat is even worse: no greasy foods, no chips, no Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1076630076359263262004-02-12T19:42:00.000-04:002004-02-13T19:46:39.030-04:00Sometimes I like to think things are great the way they are, that there's a precise and perfect order to them. Then you hear words that bring it all down. I don't think it's a falling or collapsing feeling as much as it's a re-arranging feeling. It's as if someone has approached your inner bookshelf and switched the books around, placed some upside-down and let others hang off the edge. Maybe Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1076549426450734222004-02-11T21:13:00.000-04:002004-02-11T21:33:09.326-04:00I'm back from the dentist. Who knew it could be such an experience.
I don't feel like writing about that just now.
I wonder what would happened if someone stepped into your thoughts and found out your inner most secrets? Do you think it could ever be a good thing? We have artifacts all around us that give others a small glimpse of what's really inside of us, but I don't think anyone could Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1076531101912720012004-02-11T15:43:00.000-04:002004-02-11T21:14:41.013-04:00So many words...
My inner dialogue has made an explosive comeback. I keep thinking of how things feel and sound. I've been walking around in a daze just thinking of words. When I read I make sure I go slow so I can conjure up vidid images and try to remember the words.
As long as I have this narrative voice in me I'll be fine and not have to worry about writer's block, because in all honesty Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1076463513741496892004-02-10T21:33:00.000-04:002004-02-10T21:41:02.576-04:00What am I supposed to do?
You've been gone all evening. I'm so worried I can't help but think something is really wrong. I hope you come back soon, I don't think I could stand going all night without knowing what's going on. You have to be okay.
Maybe it's just me being too paranoid.
I've gone and made myself sick with worrying.
Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1076459243277444502004-02-10T20:24:00.000-04:002004-02-10T20:29:52.186-04:00I'm so worried. You went to the hospital earlier this evening and you're not back yet. All these horrible paranoid thoughts keep turning up why I think about you. I wish I could be there with you. I hope it's just the flu. I love you so much, I can't bear to see you hurt. I'll be back soon, waiting for you.Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1076367094119052192004-02-09T18:49:00.000-04:002004-02-09T18:54:01.216-04:00I've been so lazy with this blog lately, posting half assedly. I want a photoblog desperately. But I have no idea how to go about even starting the template. I downloaded a nice template but I don't know all the coding and so on. I'm pretty confused. But I'll try.
I really hope he feels better soon, I'm really worried.
Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1076206201952617092004-02-07T22:09:00.000-04:002004-02-07T22:12:27.076-04:00I think I'll go on msn want wait for you to come online..Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1076206012891683292004-02-07T22:04:00.000-04:002004-02-07T22:09:18.060-04:00This weekend just sucks. I'm at the lowest point of loniless. Tomorrow I'll be more hopeful. I'm so sad now because I've been gone all day and I got no work on my essay done. When he comes back, I'll be working on my stupid paper...Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1076025124878781522004-02-05T19:49:00.000-04:002004-02-05T19:54:26.530-04:00The moon is beautiful tonight. It's very full and so bright. I was staring at it for an hour and watched it move.
This weekend will be agony without you..Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1075946624892367512004-02-04T21:40:00.000-04:002004-02-04T22:06:05.950-04:00Branches against the stark, nightmarish sky run like cracks through a plate. They grow further and further, reaching out to shatter the whitness. The wet black trunk and thick exstensive limbs suck away the surrounding sky that pushes against your eyes; bright and unmoving. It's not a cool relief, but an unapprouchable image.
I wrote that in English, pretty silly.
I love you.Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1075851984000380372004-02-03T19:31:00.000-04:002004-02-03T19:48:42.950-04:00I'm feeling very narrative tonight.
I was ironing my shirt thinking of what else the iron could become, what words I could use to describe it. I only found a few. I thought of a snake when the steam rises and the iron lets out a enlongated hiss but that was predictable. No one would ever think of unicorn when they were ironing but somehow I did although there was no way in which I could connectJibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1075773816038626852004-02-02T19:37:00.000-04:002004-02-02T22:09:19.030-04:00I've been succumb (if that's even how that sucker is spelt) but a feeling of pure exhaustion. There's euphoria in there though from the absolutely amazing day today was. That's all i'll say about today though. I'm being intentionally vague.
I'm going to think of some brainstorming words then write a little bit. I'll see how it works out, I've heard this "brainstorming" thing does wonders.
Oh! Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1075666082954837722004-02-01T14:44:00.000-04:002004-02-01T16:10:19.530-04:00I wrote about snow last night. It was nothing that was completely inspired or special, just about snow. I found that I don't like writing about falling snow because it seems so overdone, so cliche. Like when people try to describe rain. It can fall like pins, tears, or thumbtacks from the nozzle of a divine watering can. Seems to me there's only so many ways to talk about snow, so that's what I Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1075608528150663712004-01-31T22:54:00.000-04:002004-02-01T00:11:03.763-04:00There's no words or thoughts that come to mind when I think of writing. I wanted to put together a bunch of stories involving the same character but no solid thoughts have formed. Last night I thought of something before I went to sleep but it laid wrapped in layers of guilt from not studying and sickness from that night's supper, it faded away. I remeber I was thinking about how he said to come Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1075511304132239722004-01-30T20:35:00.000-04:002004-01-30T21:10:38.200-04:00I don't get it. My weather Geisha has been saying it's raining all the time. I live right next to the airport where it gets it's weather information from and it's still wrong. How can it be raining? It's -30 outside.
My Grandmother came back from a month long cruise today. After listening to her and him talk about what they did I'm completely sold on cruises. It sounds amazing. I thought it'd Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1075435199116078262004-01-29T23:59:00.000-04:002004-01-30T00:02:11.280-04:00My thoughts on fanfiction:
I see it as how a cook sees tv dinners. All you have to do with tv dinners is heat it up in the microwave. As a writer I find it highly insulting when fanfiction writers gain great praise for their meager efforts. What work is there in using alread formulated, pre-established characters? None. The storyline, background, plot and characters are all there. It's a paint Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1075337644748290962004-01-28T20:53:00.000-04:002004-01-28T20:56:15.450-04:00In this blog I want to try and be the most honest and true person. In a lesser amount of words, I want to be real. I don't like the way I'm handling this blog. It's boring to me and lately it feels so fake. It pisses me off I can never really fully express myself. For fear of embarrassment, for fear of discovery, for fear of who knows what.
Most days I don't feel like a writer. I feel like an Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1075261398953566312004-01-27T22:46:00.000-04:002004-01-27T23:45:28.593-04:00There's always nights when thoughts don't turn into words and all you have are tears. Some days you feel it's so easy, all this, but then other days there's a weight on your conscience that doesn't fall until after dark. I really try hard, or at least I think I do.
I'm not sure right now where all these feelings went. I haven't written in a very long time. I'm trying very hard at everything elseJibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1075248125442635722004-01-27T19:51:00.000-04:002004-01-27T20:04:15.436-04:00Ugh what a day...
Well I only have one exam left then I'm done and it's on to a new semester. I'll have Global History, Advanced English and Academic math. Then I'm done high school forever.
I feel so sick right now. I just got some blood drawn so things are a little woozy. I hate getting blood drawn but I'd choose it over a scope anyday. We go it to the local doctors office at the Tuesday Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1075081719166879362004-01-25T21:39:00.000-04:002004-01-25T21:50:45.856-04:00My room is so cold that the condensation on the window froze. I was studying for exams and doing my final Film and Video project all of today. This is my last semester of public school ever. It's not soon enough, the school part anyway. The people part, that's the good part.
Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1075081065827922382004-01-25T21:37:00.000-04:002004-01-25T21:39:52.670-04:00Commenting system enabled. Honestly, I'll put the Haloscan link up sometime. Really.Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1074824156824445672004-01-22T21:40:00.000-04:002004-01-23T20:57:03.843-04:00I thought I saw the moon, but it was just the light on a crane set against the horizon.
Today I got my writing portfolio back, with out late marks I got a 22/20. She wrote that some things were publishable. I find that kinda hard to believe considering she liked the one I hated most. Well, the one I hated second most really.
I remember the frist stories I wrote, eight page romps through my Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1074722447674557502004-01-21T17:59:00.000-04:002004-01-21T18:02:49.310-04:00Exams are next week and I'm getting that feeling that screams, "You're screwed".
But this time. . . I so am..Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1074473964870491942004-01-18T20:58:00.000-04:002004-01-18T21:01:21.763-04:00It's snowing!Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1074220164180948312004-01-15T22:21:00.000-04:002004-01-15T22:31:17.450-04:00I need warm weather, when we're afforded long silences. There can be pauses and missed words because nothing more has to be packed into the thinning box of alone time we have. I've learned the cruelest side of winter.
We watch the sun set together without words, we just hold eachother in silence. It's almost dark and the brightest stars start to appear. You take my hand and slowly turn me aroundJibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1074203325331161992004-01-15T17:48:00.000-04:002004-01-15T17:50:38.106-04:00Okay, the math was wrong but the point is: I love you.Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1074202290080389692004-01-15T17:30:00.000-04:002004-01-15T17:33:23.060-04:00I have also taken 4,833,405 breaths and 23,200,344 heartbeats since the 6th. Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1074202211388244102004-01-15T17:13:00.000-04:002004-01-15T17:32:04.390-04:00The buses were cancelled today so I had to stay home and help clean the house. The real estate lady came to take pictures. She wore the most ridiculous leather pants. I don't understand why most real estate agents have ugly homes and hair dressers have bad hair. That's like having a criminal who's a cop, or a teacher who hates learning. I guess..
I'm thankful for you and your breaking up of the Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1074125554424881392004-01-14T20:04:00.000-04:002004-01-14T20:14:26.450-04:00Coke Machine Glow - Gordon Downie
Here we are on the highway.
Here we are on the road.
Here we are in the parking lot’s
pink Coke machine glow.
Here we are in the bedroom.
Here we are in the bed.
Here we are
beside each other
after everything
we’ve said.
--
Things have become increasingly odd at school. Group dynamics are a funny thing, never really stable enough to depend on. There's only Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1073954797425880772004-01-12T20:39:00.000-04:002004-01-12T20:46:58.166-04:00My finger hurts..I need to stop biting my nails.Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1073849641922795062004-01-11T15:32:00.000-04:002004-01-11T15:34:22.480-04:00I have no privacy.
I've never been this angry. I think I'm going to snap.Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1073599045950743392004-01-08T16:52:00.000-04:002004-01-09T23:09:31.780-04:00How slowly tears unravel
like tiny strings slipping from the
seams of your coat.
Buttons fall, dropping dark lashes
between bunches of fabric that
lump as a growing sadness does.
I don't think I can stand much more Salisbury Hill...
Dachau
I find Dachau in a grayed photograph,
pressed between even pages.
Turning to, me she whispers,
"Were you there?"
Heavy doors gave an exhausted sigh,
Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1073527598786160942004-01-07T21:00:00.000-04:002004-01-08T16:37:59.033-04:00My blog's images are down until the server that was hacked is back up.
Honestly I don't care.
It has to be spread out, the skin of this planet,
has to be ironed, the sea in its whiteness;
and the hands keep on moving,
smoothing the holy surfaces.
There's a sacred darkness
in the vastness of galaxies.
Of how untouched soils and
the smooth sounds on
broken surfaces never resonate.
Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1073352445642341562004-01-05T21:03:00.000-04:002004-01-05T21:27:44.706-04:00How do we always come to
kiss under rainbows?
Those wide arches tying
ribbons of color around our hearts.
My favorite artificial flavor of the day: RiboflavenJibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1073152852909669642004-01-03T16:43:00.000-04:002004-01-03T17:01:22.356-04:00How can I find your hands gone
from where they once were,
when I felt how soft your heart was.
This absence reels outward
like fishing line.
I hear the click, click, click
of you getting just a little farther away.
I'm trying to wind up the line,
desperately circling and
waiting by the pole.
Days can't be brought in any faster
when hours become drenched,
held down, from the weight of water
Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1073162451707446372004-01-03T16:40:00.000-04:002004-01-03T16:43:02.650-04:00Seems the time zone was wrong, says I posted at 9:30 this morning. Maybe if I was sleep walking..
Hmm..that's a possibility.Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1073151442201964762004-01-03T13:30:00.000-04:002004-01-03T13:37:40.510-04:00Last night I had a dream everyone was taken away, including you. We were all sent to concentration camps. I saw you once through a wire fence but then you blended into the crowed as I got pushed along. The whole I time I was searching for you, just waiting for you to come back. At the end of the dream everyone made it out alive but I couldn't find you. You were gone and I couldn't even remeber Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1072986124012535492004-01-01T15:33:00.000-04:002004-01-01T15:42:21.770-04:00I think I should change my wheather pixie. I'll change it to tell the weather of Osaka, or Kyoto maybe even Tokyo. At least the stupid tree is gone, that made no sense. Well I suppose a Geisha standing in the middle of no where watching the weather doesn't make much sense either. She's not even wearing tabi and her face is unpainted. Some geisha, what a fraud.
Here's some poetry....
There wereJibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1072565962722753692003-12-27T18:37:00.000-04:002003-12-27T18:59:39.756-04:00Well today was one of the longest most boring days ever.
I couldn't make good use of my time...
Ugh I suck. Today is one of those days where I suck as using what do you call those...Ah, yes. Words.Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1071774671554775592003-12-18T15:02:00.000-04:002003-12-18T15:11:26.073-04:00Today is a new day. It's one of those days with endless possibilities. It's also a day where my every thought has been consumed by you. I love you so much. I want to run to you right now and tell you that. I wish we could hold eachother all afternoon, I'd never ever want to let go. I'm so sorry for all those times I was mean and inconsiderate. I promise I'll try my absolute best to treat you the Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1071611745833578302003-12-16T17:52:00.000-04:002004-01-09T23:25:00.690-04:00I think people who write writing exercises are idiots. Can they really understand what goes into writing? You know, I wish I was an artist. I wish I could just throw shit on a canvas and open up shop. It'd be so much easier. Writing isn't one of those creative things you can fake. It isn't even one of those things that if you succeed at you’ve succeeded at. No, it's much more complicated at that.Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1071374514448178632003-12-13T23:49:00.000-04:002003-12-14T00:02:07.866-04:00I had a dream last night where I was trying to learn how to play violin. I woke up with a strong urge to pick up a violin and drag the bow across it. I'm sure it'd make a horrible fingernails on a chalkboard sort of sound but I'd like to do it anyway. When I think of instruments I feel entirely capable of becomming a world renoun musician. You know it's the same with anything. Whenever I imagine Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1071285525991447222003-12-12T22:44:00.000-04:002003-12-12T23:18:58.913-04:00I don't know how to describe things lately. Thinking makes me feel sick. I wish I could put these tears unto writing. Sometimes I snap. I feel the lump in my throat growing, then my heart grows tight and beats faster. I've messed up so much. I know what my mother means when she calls me a brat.
I'm so sick of waiting and hiding things. But yet again, I've screwed up with that too. I don't knowJibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1071279232969280352003-12-12T21:22:00.000-04:002003-12-12T21:34:05.790-04:00There's so little time. All my projects are due.
I have drive to write anymore. I downloaded a good song by Crush but I've played it so many times over the novelty has worn off. I feel like someone stuck a needle in my heart. Just like that scene in The Rock. Ugh, make that a needle in my heart and throat.
Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1071194242003244572003-12-11T21:21:00.000-04:002003-12-11T21:57:34.926-04:00I haven't written in so long. I'm starting a new life. A new life filled with organization. First I clean my locker then I tell you I love you.
Okay I need to get way more organized. I'm really upset about not studying everynight. I need to it's something that is way to important to neglect. Unfortunatly I'm cursed with a wandering mind, sometimes when I read I realize I've gone halfway down a Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1070218368362241672003-11-30T14:49:00.000-04:002003-11-30T14:52:57.650-04:00This week has been a week of neglect. I swear I've never felt so unmotivated. I haven't done a lick of schoolwork in ages.Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1069992008803118822003-11-27T23:21:00.000-04:002003-11-28T00:00:18.093-04:00Here are some fantastic realities:
I saw a soggy peice of paper with my name on it, I was tempted to pick it up but everyone at the bus stop was staring at me.
I went to your locker to get his protractor. I took an extra long time finding it, so your coats would stay pressed against my face. Their so soft, they remind me of your hands.
I saw a little boy with a cut on his cheek, his Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1069968964033846712003-11-27T17:20:00.000-04:002003-11-27T17:36:12.763-04:00Today was wonderful.
This afternoon I really felt alive. Suddenly my mind was full of thought again. Life's spindely fingers have stopped suffocating me and I can breathe again. I kept looking at things and finding meaning in them.
I talked to my old history teacher today who retired when I was in grade 10. He asked me what I planned to do after high school, it was a nice conversation.
I love Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1069800184697702752003-11-25T18:24:00.000-04:002003-11-25T18:43:12.816-04:00I have no stories to tell. I feel so nameless, like a plastic doll or a crayon drawing..
Honestly, I don't know..Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1069717927146411372003-11-24T18:55:00.000-04:002003-11-24T19:52:14.870-04:00I haven't written anything real is so long. Life feels on hold. It seems as if I'm putting everything off. Maybe I'm putting everything off because I just can't comes to terms with my writing. It started writing my case study about you a week or so ago but I completely forgot I even posted it, let alone saved it.
I had the scope today. It felt like that scene in Requim for a dream when they Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1069442654335759802003-11-21T15:22:00.000-04:002003-11-21T15:24:21.563-04:00I love you.
I wish I could scream it out to you! I wish i could whisper it in your ear. So many things I want to do, but it's now the weekend. I miss you terribly already. I thought I smelled you on the way home. I tried to see you as long as I could when we were driving away. I think our eyes met, I'm sure they did. I love you so much. Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1069363509618972152003-11-20T17:11:00.000-04:002003-11-20T17:25:16.703-04:00Yesterday was amazing. It was one of those days so consumed by happiness and joy that when you wake up the next morning you aren't sure if it really happened. It really happened because I'm sure we both didn't have the same dream. I also want to say thank you. Thank you so much for everythign you've done. I'm still overjoyed. I love you so much.
You're napping right now, my little cutie. Hehe. Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1068851104805114532003-11-14T18:41:00.000-04:002003-11-14T19:20:20.263-04:00I love you. Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1068776302160272712003-11-13T22:16:00.000-04:002003-11-13T22:18:27.546-04:00You fake little girl. Your stupid absent mind screwed you over this time and your stuborness won't help. I'm so angry. Honestly, I don't know myself. I really don't.Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1068770580420020312003-11-13T20:30:00.000-04:002003-11-13T20:43:05.450-04:00All I can drink is apple juice now. I've found it to be the most unstatisfying drink ever. Once you take a swig you'll never be able to quench your thirst. It's so bitter and tasteless. Well it has just enough of a taste to leave you desperatly thirsty. Even when you drink tons it feels so dry, like downing cupfulls of warm sand.
I love how here the forest meets the ocean, they're usually Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1068688866436843152003-11-12T21:34:00.000-04:002003-11-12T22:01:11.806-04:00I'm so glad everyone loved Sarah's brillient novel presentation. Now I have no hope of even living up to it. Her moments of awkward silence were more entertaining than my whole presentation will be. Half the class wouldn't give me the time of day let alone listen to me rant on and on about this crazy book I read. I'm just that girl in the corner who sits by the smelly girl in the corner. SpeakingJibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1068602671024961112003-11-11T19:25:00.000-04:002003-11-11T22:04:36.096-04:00So how do I know what words are true?
The sun hangs in an uneasy sky like a clentched fist.
The sun like a pupil is in an uneasy suspension over us.
Are any words of mine true? Are they the right words for just the right sentences for just the right story? I'm being to shy about this, I don't think, breathe and live writing anymore. I want those words back bacause this unsettled feeling Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1068523141870275222003-11-10T19:16:00.000-04:002003-11-10T23:59:05.960-04:00Today was unique.
For days I've been trying to write about you. I find the words, the most perfect words, but they never seem to want to come out.
Today has been a day of..hmm. A great day. :o)
Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1068428948206174392003-11-09T19:51:00.000-04:002003-11-09T21:49:12.180-04:00Good evening. Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1068347020128080182003-11-08T22:58:00.000-04:002003-11-08T23:03:44.493-04:00Here's a walk down memory lane:
August 4th, 2003 -
I miss everything so damn much. Mostly you. Every written word of yours doesn't mean as much as just holding your hand, or sitting beside you. I miss staring at you and trying to catch your eyes in mine. I miss when we hugged. Even in my dreams you're with me. I love you. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone. It's not even humanly Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1068170249951750912003-11-06T20:00:00.000-04:002003-11-06T21:59:38.896-04:00Today is one of those days I need the writing to pour out of me. But I asked myself a horrible question, "Do I really enjoy writing?". Well no, not right now because no writing is really going on. Before I guess I enjoyed writing. I'm beginning to think all it ever was and will be is setences surrounded by imagery dripping in poetic style. It makes me sick to think I wrote like that. I have no Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1068163220549173622003-11-06T19:44:00.000-04:002003-11-06T20:00:24.426-04:00Here are some haikus:
Sunlight, finds itself
between my fingers, and your
hands grow closer to me
Thick blanketing snow
smothers our ears, the sound is
swallowed and pressed down
Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1067997141572703392003-11-04T20:28:00.000-04:002003-11-04T21:52:24.193-04:00I'll post something better tomorrow.
Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1067889827120377232003-11-03T16:03:00.000-04:002003-11-03T16:03:50.113-04:00I changed the template, but I didn't make it. Some very special did all the hard work, thank you very much.Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1067789173873877792003-11-02T11:52:00.000-04:002003-11-02T12:06:30.040-04:00Today feels like a different era all together. I wanted to open the back door and run out, bare feet and all. I wish I had. The leaves are calling me. They beckon like curled up hands with their distinct thick veins bleeding out color.
More on this later...Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1067709528168554002003-11-01T13:53:00.000-04:002003-11-01T13:58:49.856-04:00Today will be my first day of 100 words. The start of writing 100 words a day. Right now I am ultimatly uninpsired. Guess I'll have to wait until some groundbreaking thought hits me.
http://www.100words.net/front.cfmJibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1067655240324063942003-10-31T21:57:00.000-04:002003-10-31T22:54:01.926-04:00I suddenly decided I hated my blog template. Shame on me. I'm sick of the orange though. Ugh, it burns my eyes. Oh well I'll have to put up with it because it's better than white.
There's an awkward silence around me. I feel compelled to say something. So...I feel content. As I walked home today I tried to think of fall related things. There wasn't much to think of.
Leaves on the road
Bare Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1065819579422611962003-10-30T19:30:00.000-04:002003-10-30T19:30:54.313-04:00On a cold shattered dawn
sunlight seeps through peices of wide sky.
The receeding night cannot howl
but the moon bears down on us,
its creamy presence rounded
amoungst whipped clouds.
Are my tears your October rain?
Ice droplets carrying a chill,
and on their very tongues is a future
bleak as clouded nights.
Winters solid breath is on my skin.
With your great circling fingers
I'm guided into Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1067031535983096302003-10-24T18:18:00.000-03:002003-10-24T18:38:54.770-03:00Today is one of those days where memories haunt me. I can't stop asking myself, "What are you doing?". I really don't know what I'm doing. Do I have an identity? Obviously I do, but I sure as hell can't figure it out. Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1066962036105695142003-10-23T22:30:00.000-03:002003-10-27T16:37:31.220-04:00I hate wearing socks.
I need to write this english assignment about a significant moment in my life. What does she want to hear from me? I was thinking about telling her how I can't write anymore. That's a good one, real hypocritical.
I am so sick of myself. I wish I could run away. Sometimes I just want to get up and run out the doors. If I could flee, where would I even go. The answer is no Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1066581157157746552003-10-19T13:27:00.000-03:002003-10-19T13:32:36.916-03:00My eyes are too open. I don't feel any tears. I don't know how to respond to anything. I feel crazy, absolutly insane. I laid in bed wanting to scream and not knowing why. I fell asleep needing to cry but finding my emotions sealed shut. I'm letting myself go. I can't remeber to pray, I can't remember how to write. Look at what I'm writing. Isn't it evident I have no feelings, no emotions? I Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1066580813668698112003-10-19T13:26:00.000-03:002003-10-19T13:26:53.500-03:00I feel like I've ruined everything.Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1066498162428058142003-10-18T14:21:00.000-03:002003-10-18T14:29:22.266-03:00I'm wearing yesterdays pants but I'm already trapped in an unhappy tomorrow. What happened to that me who used to write? Where did all the words go? The formation of an haiku, so small yet powerful has slipped my mind. I cna't even remember the meaning of words or read without stumbling across pronouciations. I forgot how to sit down and express ideas. I can't even tell you how to love words Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1066093634022046102003-10-13T21:45:00.000-03:002003-10-13T22:07:14.160-03:00I can't think of anything to tell you. I don't even have any feelings. It's lke I'm trapped behind some glass wall, there's nothing for me to feel. I don't even know if I'm breathing anymore. I miss you more than anything, but the only pain is the pain inside of me, not even relating to you.
What the hell is wrong with me? I can't feel my fingers anymore, my legs, eyes eyes feel closed and my Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5894603.post-1066088478184266962003-10-13T20:39:00.000-03:002003-10-13T20:41:17.976-03:00This blog doesn't even feel real and it doesn't feel like it's mine. Jibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444129781585984702noreply@blogger.com