Hey, long time no talk... I have tons of new stuff, but I'm also gonna start doing this again at least once a week, if not every night, just a vent thing but in a creative motive.

My new band, Cassela, is doing great, but college is separating us like no other and it's rough.

Okay, here's something I'm randomly spitting out.

The television rants on in the corner, screaming out subtleties
Droning in the ears of the everyone in the room, like numbers in a crowd
When you believe in anything, you're a majority,
For so many people barely believe in anything that you've got an edge.
The television could be hope to some, and demise to others,
But to all... it's a waste.

New song.

It's been a while since I've shown my face around here, but I wanted to share for anyone still looking.

Faint lights on the surface make staring easy
But they flicker, and so do my eyes.
It's hard to keep my attention steady
When even the ocean isn't as pretty as you.

I'm thinking of taking a swim, taking it all in.
To replace a home I've known all my life.
And as the water washes my worries, drenching my skin,
I'm reminded of how it feels to be dry...

Chorus:
Don't cry, the speaker's in stereo
And hearing this makes it twice as hard to let you go.
I've had all that I can take of this discontent
It's so depressing that I'm leaving empty-handed.

Bright lights move across the horizon line
And make it easy to lose track of time
It's hard to keep my mind off leaving
But you're doing a good job of holding me home.

Bridge (no lyrics, catchy guitar line)

Chorus+
Oh so depressing
Oh so... how I'm leaving home.






You name it. I got nothing.

So

I got an LJ again...

www.livejournal.com/~thru_beingcool

Well, same one as always.

But, I don't know it'll be 50/50 on which I use certain things for.

This mostly for creative writing, that mostly for rants. But the creative writing will probably go in both.

Just an FYI post.

I think I'm quitting.

This is a vent blog. An actual post of like... my life.

Okay so for the past like... 3 years, I've been one to refuse all types of relationships, ask any of my friends, I was a slut.

But I like it like that, I still hate relationships. I think I might have met my match though...

Eh not really, but maybe for the rest of the summer.

Girls are so confusing I can't even organize my thoughts.

I'm gonna whore it up now.

<3 Rene.

Reform and Resistance

An addiction adversely encountered
Through counterfeit kinds of control
It's an infectious strain of relief
That sets the standard at a perfect disposition
A timebomb ticking perfectly impatient

Fake it well, sell the image at the cost of comfort
Crossing lines to expand horizons
Is still crossing lines (or what's left of them)
Cautious consideration will only get you so far
Have faith in taking chances
They're numbered so you better start taking your risks.

This is a funeral for beautiful
In entity and entirety
The urges leave marks that scar us all
We're composed of compelling qualities
To tempt the ticking in everyone else.

Embracing ill fortune is an artform,
Not a duty (not for anyone)
And we're the Renaissance
We're the romantics,
The idealists in a world of dissonance.

Sound floods the shoreline
In a mass of embarrasment
Calling out cordially
To all who're accepting it.
Are you accepting it?
Are you accepting?

Fake it well, sell the image at the cost of comfort
Crossing lines to expand horizons
Is still crossing lines (or what's left of them)
Cautious consideration will only get you so far
Have faith in taking chances
They're numbered so you better start taking your...

Better start taking your...

Better start taking your chances. (Take them for granted)

Actions and Apologies

I'm sorry I've been so sloppy on the updating lately, but I've been really busy.

Okay so updates.

Check out my new band everyone - Cassela

We'd really appreciate it if you would check us out, spread the word, etc. We're buying an order of shirts and pins, and finishing the recording of our 3 song demo. We're playing shows around RI, MA, and probably CT or something this summer, so be sure to come to one, it would mean a lot to us.

And... as for writing, mostly I've been just rewriting old stuff to either use for this band or my acoustic project, but I can show you some updated songs.

This USED to be "Waltz of the Two Moons," and now it's just called "It Could Be Our Ballroom."

Call it wasting
Wasted days,
when I've been dancing time away
And ignoring the little things like life.
All these reasons
That I can't seem to find
Are the same ones
That have you losing your mind
But I have one little piece of advice...

Strap on your ballroom best
And meet me in the backyard to dance til sunset
We can pretend that we have no stress
To distract us from a way to forget.

This grass isn't a marble floor
And these trees aren't solid oak doors.
These stars aren't chandeliers
But who needs them anyway?
We've got a view like a balcony
And we have an orchestra on CD
I don't know about you
But I say who needs royalty?

Slip out of your favorite dress
Cuz it's getting so hot, we're breaking a sweat
And we can continue inside the house
Where we can tango with a one-two step.

This bedroom, is our ballroom
And these reasons are our humble reception
Onlooking what they wish they had
But we ignore them like we should
Cuz life's too short, and I think we make it far too good.

Strap on your ballroom best
And meet me out back to dance til sunset
We can pretend that we have no stress
To distract us, to distract us...
So slip out your favorite dress
Cuz it's getting so hot, we're breaking a sweat
And we can go inside the house
To our ballroom, to our ballroom.
___________________________________________________________________

I don't think I ever posted this, but I like it now, so... check it out, it's called "What You've Given Me (And It's More Than You Think)"

When you said, "These cigarettes,
They taste like new beginnings."
I had to say "I'm sorry but,
I don't smoke and I like things how they are."
But I was lying, dying, trying
To tell you I want to take a hit
Of what you've got, cuz it might be
The thing that makes me who I'm not.

Chorus:
Whoa-oa, oh, oh oh oh.
This is breathtaking
This is a whole new feeling
This is (hold) me.

When I said, "Take this loose change
Off my hands, cuz I don't like to carry it around."
You said, "Hold onto it tight, kid.
Cuz the next time that you stop to think
You'll realize it's the only thing you've got left of me."
And it hit me
Harder than a bus
Filled up with all this misplaced trust.
So I might just light a cigarette

And I'll say
Chorus.

Breakdown (fingerpicking).
Thank you, dear, for the wonderful life lesson
And everything you had to say.
Because, if it wasn't for you
I wouldn't be the man I am today.
So light me up a cigarette
And throw me your spare change
I don't need it, I don't smoke
But I won't throw it all away (hold).

Chorus.
___________________________________________________________________

And, finally...

Umm... I don't know really. I'm just really excited for college.

Orientation ruled.

College should kick some major ass.

Eyes in the skies; drifting, dreaming...

Oh, you're so different.
Oh, so unique.
You've got that "breaking the mold" fluorescent glow
That's got you shining out in a crowd.
Oh, you're so proud.
So dignified.
So wrong.

Look at the stars
Look at the brightest one.
It's the same, it's just the sun,
but it's got that glow.

And you've got that glow.
You've got that going for you
But I've got it, too...
In the palm of my hand.

You're not so different.
Oh, not so unique.
You've got the glow; you've got the shine.
You've got your pride
And it's something to show
For all the things you've learned.

I just realized.

This is where my high school life... is going to end up.

In a blog. I'll go back... whenever.

But... I can never really... go back.

I guess that's the point.

So this is summer?

When three lines would do
To show that you'd tried...
It was better than letting your imagination run dry.

But I've forgotten expression, my mind's become worn
My ideas are scattered, tattered and torn
In tons of directions, I'm not sure what to do
Because three months of nothing means too much to you
And not enough to me.

It's probably changed 50 times... out of 40.

Just dance baby, this is a party
Take, take, take a chance on whatever's in sight
That you might like
To try and get with or without for a night.
So hand me a hip for
Out on the dance floor
And we can make this last for as long as we want to
Cuz I'm not willing to leave here without you tonight.

I hold on tight to the chest in my arms right now
But I hold on tighter to the idea of holding onto you.
_____________________________________________________________________

On the other hand:

Maybe my strengths lie in weakness
Cuz I'm running out of reasons
To be building these high wall defenses
There must be some consequences
For this failure to communicate
Failure to associate
With anyone other than the person in the mirror
And I'm tired of talking...
_____________________________________________________________________

Just let me give you one bit of advice.

Listen to Four Year Strong

Just the idea...

Would it have hurt less
If I had seen it coming?
If I had agreed
To put myself into something
That wasn't a longshot
Or a dream and nothing else.

I've waited too long to show my face
When I knew that introductions were the part of the game that mattered.

Save a place in heaven for me
Cuz anyone this dedicated must go to a better place
And anywhere is better than here
If I can't let my dreams be more then wasted space.

Graduation

So where are the pictures to remember me by?
I seem to avoid every chance I get to shine
And memories are built on the moments I let slip away.
So where are the times I really made a change?
I seem to be missing the point of this stage
In my life, if memories fade, than so do I.

Please, more than anything
Just do me a favor, one little thing.
You don't have to remember me well
But try not to forget me.

Four years gone like I couldn't believe
We've seen so much and we're only eighteen,
Could I have made mistakes already? Definitely.
I wish I could rewind just for a day
To get a little piece of everyone so I could save
These momentos forever and make my mistakes go away.

Please, more than anything
Just do me a favor, one little thing.
You don't have to remember me well
But try not to forget me.

I remember things from every year
As long as I'm here, I won't let them disappear
But I'm holding on to whatever I have left for the moment...
And that's all of my friends, I just thought you should know it.

Even The Best Break The Rules

You told me find love. Well I found it.
You left, and, so I grounded all high hopes
Of ever, of ever falling in love. (I've grounded them forever)
And these bright blue eyes are burning
From holding my chin up high, staring daringly at the sun
To move, cuz I wasn't going to bend.
And this jaw feels like it's about to fall off
From trying to convince you to put this off
Until maybe I felt something, because nothing's worse than pain,
And I mean that in the way that makes the pain seem like the better choice.

I could go pro for all the game I've talked
If I could only just once back it up.

Wisdom teeth out = the worst thing ever.

Put me on the 15 day DL, who knows, maybe I'll be day to day, but this sucks.

Dear Creative Writing,

I'm not going to be in class for the rest of the year, I don't think. Tuesday I have to leave early, Wednesday I have to get my wisdom teeth out, and Thursday and Friday are recovery days. I'll probably see like 2 of you in my exams (English and Math), but I really really really hope that you don't stop using your blog.

I will keep up with all of your blogs, and try to stay in touch with you all as much as I can, because I think this was the best class/assignment/idea in a long time. Well, I'll miss you all, except Ashley, she's a loser. Just kidding, you too, kid.

Goodbye.

I could talk forever...

If you gave me golden lungs.

You'll Never Know, You'll Truly Never Know...

Gotcha.

Mmkay SO!

Enter daily faux-meaningful stream of consciousness poem by Rene:

Let's be candid and put our hands in
Face down with blind eyes, drawn to call bluff
With all our bets in place...
Winner take all, loser goes home empty handed, heavy hearted.
This is the best way to end this argument
For once and for always.

Let's talk circles around each other,
And avoid what we've been wanting to say.
I know I have something just dying to get out
But I can't say it to your face so I'll hide it in a blog.
Let's not address one another like anything had ever happened
And pretend all's gonna be fine.
I know that you've got something that you're dying to tell me
But you won't say it so I'll just be snide.

We've waged a war between friends
Between beliefs and bad decisions,
Could a couple inches of attention
Really kill this four year alliance?

If it can, then I'm sorry.

Sorry for the lack of posts tonight, I couldn't use "cuz" or "baby" (WHICH I STILL DIDN'T THINK WAS A GREAT IDEA, I JUST NEEDED AN ARTICLE FOR DIRECTION!)...

But for serious, I have to do a french final and prepare all this crazy outline stuff for an english test tomorrow, and then after school then I have to prepare my poetry presentation.

I have more work in the last week of senior year than I have had through all four years of high school.

What the **** is that?!

Frequency

Maybe I'm over-exaggerating fiction to realists
Who wouldn't buy a word I'd ever try to sell them, but
You - you on the other hand,
Could sell a blind man books to read
Because you tell him that's how it's meant to be.
You have that unintrigued awe that buries castles into sand
Throwing instruments of thought about like confetti at the gallows, and...

Baby, I have underestimated the weight of your decisions
Cuz it's breaking down walls in this cell
These windows are shattered and sharp to the touch now
Cuz you've just gone and broken the trust from the ground.
It's shaking and splitting directly beneath us
And I'm not sure if I wanna stay with safety or you.

I was 5 years old again today.

So basically, today was a retrospective day in the life of Rene.

I hung out with my friends Carlos, Mike Poulin and Devin Kapko and we went to Seekonk Speedway, Wendy's and Devin's house.

It consisted of: Racing go-karts (it's spelled with a K there), bumper cars, and bumper boats (WITH SQUIRTGUNS ATTACHED!), then Wendy's, where all we got were Frostee's, because we couldn't find an ice cream place, and then Devin's house to watch mXc and play video games and music.

I felt so young. And it actually felt good.

He got a hold of that one!

Going




Going




Going

Gone.

So I decided to swing for the fences, be the hero, play the part.
But I took my eyes off the prize and turned my backs to best friends.
I shot a glance back towards home to see if anyone was looking back... but they weren't.
So I trudged on, alone, but that wasn't the bad part. The worst part was being incapable.
I couldn't do anything, I hadn't finished school, I had nothing to prove, I had no one to risk the fighting chance. I was nothing, seriously this time.
I let the pressure get to me. I thought I played it well, but it knew that I had faltered.
Is it sad that an abstract emotion seems to know how to get to me better than myself?
It knew how to hit me where it counted, but I couldn't tell you where that is on me.
Actually... that's a lie. It's my overwhelming obsession with disbelief.
I don't believe in anything, especially myself, so I guess that... it just believed in me enough to take me down... God, or... actually I don't believe in God, so... Oh, how I wish someone believed in me; I could take the fall and have someone to help me up, not a feeling to throw me into isolation, only to write out what I need to in order to overcome my failure.

I can't believe that I don't know how to.

... Anything Else?

My knees are weak and shaking
In anticipation for the unraveling fact
That I have no reason to believe in anything anymore.
Not saying that I won't, but I don't have you down my throat-
To force ideas into my lungs so I can breathe only as much as you want me to.
With your permission, I'd just like to be myself,
And form a reputation of my own, based on my own ideas,
My own mistakes, and... yea... my own mistakes...
That'd be nice.

To be able to do wrong once in a while.

I've got potential and I'd like to know how to use it.
"Come on, kid, use your gifts."

I'll get there, eventually.

Stardom.

So it happened...

We set our hearts on self-destruct
In times of desperation, deliberation fails me.
I've thought too hard and long for this
Serious business ruins bliss;
And that's what this is, isn't it?

So it's over cuz one of us
Forgot about his fuse.
He imploded potential and sent us on our way.

_____________________________________________________________________

*SCREAMS*

Well, there goes that one...

This is a long one... split in 4's?

As I'm sitting here thinking about the correlation between music and religion, I can only think of the number of bands that I listen to that are driven by a religion. Bands like Underoath, The Rocket Summer, MxPx, Blessed By A Broken Heart, Relient K, and then bands that I don't listen to... Switchfoot, Creed, etc.

There's plenty of religious influence in music, whether it's meant to be a major factor in songwriting or not. In a Northstar song, the singer says "This Jezebel is bleeding from a place that can never be repaired."

Jezebel is in the Bible, but Northstar is far from a religious band.

Now I know that religious music is totally different than music that has been influenced by religion. I can think of plenty of bands that use words that usually are connected with religion such as Faith, songs involving someone to Save, Redemption, Forgiveness, basically every theme of the religious texts.

I, myself, have written songs about faith (which I seem to lack recently). But by no means to I mean to portray the same effect as religion. Religion gives hope to those who need it (my definition) and music just gives people something to think about concerning their lives.

I've been changed by music. Religion has never directly changed my life. I have never gotten the feeling of resolution from religion, but music could cure cancer in my body. I swear.

___________________________________________________________________

Cut to the core
Where it's brutal as all hell.
But see me on the surface
Where I'm hopeless and still.

I lie. I do.
Couldn't deny it if you asked me.
And if I told you what you wanted to hear,
It'd be a lie, wouldn't it?
Cuz I could never be altruistic.
I'm so self-conscious... aren't I?
You tell me.
You tell me.

I just wanna give myself away,
Cuz it'd be so easy, I'd be so easy.
Just take this paper-drawn version
Of my heart and we can lie to eachother.
Like we meant it.
As if we meant it.

You tell me...

You tell me.
___________________________________________________________________

I think I'm bipolar. I moodswing way too much and there's no in between. Optimism... 4 seconds later, "The life I lead is pointless." And then it stays like that forever. Maybe that's manic depressive? I don't know, I'm a ****ing mess though.
___________________________________________________________________

You've got that look in your eyes.
I've got that feeling in my stomach.
That says any second now I'm the victim, you're the victor.
I'm the hunted, you're the hunter
And I'm losing ground steadily.

They say there's safety in numbers,
But I panic in a crowd,
And if it's really so encouraging
Why do I feel so singled out?
I guess they questions keep on coming
With the flooding of the blood
To hit my brain just like a brick wall
But it always feels so accomplishing.

You've got that skip in your step
That says you're playing games with me.
You're running circles, and I'm dizzy
But I can't turn my back, and you know it.

They say if I believe it I can do it
Well what's there to believe in
When you're trapped inside a corner
In a room you've never been in.
The questions keep on coming,
With the ever dying fear
Of how will I move on,
Cuz I know I won't make it that far.

They call me the Father,
The son, and the holey human spirit,
Of an idea once believed in
But now I've got nowhere to go.

Remember that commercial...

With the kids walking down a hallway, and it was all dark and sketchy and they were screaming "FAG!," "QUEER!," "HOMO!!" and stuff, and it was about how some kid got killed because he was gay and kids were douchebags?

Well, that was brief, and it was effective. The problem with overusing brevity is that it needs to be short enough to get the point across with nothing else and still have time to make you remember something. Scaring the **** out of you is one good way to do this.

Name another, you know you can.

Hmph.

I'm gonna write a song right now, watch the process, cuz if I don't like a line, I'm gonna find a way to ... leave it but let you know it's not in there? We'll see what happens, I don't know.

Legend of Rene's songs:
( ) = backing vocals, not main singer, but another person, less focused on
[ ] = vocals by both singers at the same time
: : = music notes.
Italicized = I don't like it.

The things I'd do
Or should I say wouldn't do...
To be the perfect me,
The one I've written about so many times before
I don't even know
I guess I'll wait and see what happens
Cuz if it comes down to it, I'd die to be

Everything you wanted (everything you wanted)
So you'd consider me
Considering you've never even [thought about it]
Could we just pretend (could we just pretend)
It's worth my time to try
My time is coming, [I can feel it inside]

And now I'm dreaming again
I've lost reality, so I'm left to defend
These thoughts of you and I
To get me by, these nights that never seem to end.
They tell me I can be...
(Just tell me I could be...)

[Everything...]

:breakdown: or :solo:

I swear...
I swear...
I swear...
I swear I could be...
I could be... I COULD BE

Everything you wanted (everything you wanted)
So you'd consider me
Considering you've never even [thought about it]
Could we just pretend (could we just pretend)
It's worth my time to try
My time is coming, [I can feel it inside]

___________________________________________________________________

okay, time to redo it:

The things I'd do
To be the perfect me,
The one I've written about so many times
I don't even know
I guess I'll wait and see
Cuz if it comes down to it, I'd die to be

Everything you wanted (everything you wanted)
So you'd consider me
Considering you've never even [thought about it]
Could we just pretend (could we just pretend)
It's worth my time to try
My time is coming, [I can feel it]

And now I'm losing touch again
With reality, so I'm left to defend
These thoughts of you and I
To get me by, these nights that never seem to end.
They tell me I can be...
(Just tell me I could be...)

[Everything...]

:breakdown: or :solo:

I swear...
I swear...
I swear...
I swear I could be...
I could be... I COULD BE

Everything you wanted (everything you wanted)
So you'd consider me
Considering you've never even [thought about it]
Could we just pretend (could we just pretend)
It's worth my time to try
My time is coming, [I can feel it]

NOTES: I drank an energy drink before the 3rd stanza, so it's kinda rushed, and I really really really got wired and now I can't even think about something for more than like 2 seconds, and I don't like this song at all, it's wicked cliché and I don't know, something about it bothers me...

Maybe it's cuz it's about someone I totally messed up with, I don't really know... I quit.

Imagine...

This is a haiku
Brought forward by imagery.
Isn't it pleasing?

Maybe it's not so,
But I still think it could be,
I'm ripping off Steve.

Goodnight, goodnight, class.
I think I'm going to bed.
So I can sleep well.

FWAH!

I've got words but they're stuck in my throat...

I've got some reason but no reason to show it...

I've got ideas that'll never be more than abstract...

I've got a mind and I don't know how to use it.

I've got a heart to tell me what I want to do.

I've got a brain to tell me not to listen to my heart.

I've got a dream that'll never leave my sleep.

I've got a life but I don't know why I do.

Knee deep in drama, but kicking and screaming through it.

All I got's the title.

Make of it what you will.

I posted a lot over vacation, you've got some catching up to do:

Haha, but not really. A couple posts, I think like 5? And they're short, but I'm ending vacation with this song that I just finished. I got into a serious discussion with my friend Lauren, who is also my... girlfriend figure without the title, about love. I don't believe in it, but it was like an argument over nothing...

So what else is new, I wrote a song. Check it:

Watch Your Language!

This drama's fit for Shakespeare
But she's outgrown the past
And this modern post-romantic girl
Is finishing dead last
In a race between love and happiness
In a race between her heart and best interest.

::Insert catchy intro riff::

Her strengths don't lie in literary
Life or conversation.
She's a weak worded story to tell
And the time isn't worth the detail.
But she's sarcastic and bittersweet
To the tongue of someone getting a taste for
Her satiric storytelling side.

(and) Love isn't part of this story
She's not in the mood for writing fiction.
And happiness, well that's just hard to come by
So she's leaving out what she can live without.

She's got a book of secrets
She keeps open wide,
Inviting all who can't resist it.
Drama seeps out in the way she describes
Everything around her
And everything inside.

(but) Love isn't part of this story
She's not in the mood for writing fiction.
And happiness, well that's just hard to come by
So she's leaving out what she can live without.

::Bring back catchy intro riff::

End.

It's nights like these.

Life sucks. Let's be totally honest. A rundown of life in general looks like this:

• You live 75 years in a 6 million year old world that's always changing, so whatever you do is not going to make a difference in the long run. At all.
• To a counterargument in 1, sure you wanna live life to the fullest and help people along the way, but they're lives aren't gonna make a difference either. Get over it.
• You want to do one thing, so you make a head down dash for it, and run into an obstacle you didn't see, cuz whatever higher power there is doesn't like you, or if there isn't one, you just suck and didn't think it through.
• The times you look up and try to figure everything out as you go, you spend too much time thinking and miss a chance on spontaneity, way to think too much, live a little... get it?

That's a horrible outline, it's just really late and I don't wanna think anymore. I just gave my band a reality check into the glass and they hated it. Pessimism rules me. Along with money, which I don't have. And dreams of being a musician for the rest of my life, which is slim to none, and there's nothing I can exactly to go college for in music if I don't want to teach it or set other musicians up for their lives in music.

I'm basically living to be a musician, and if I fail I'm just living to die.

Sucks. Life, that is.

...Then there were 4

I love my band, but it seems like there's always one character revolving around the core 4 of us.

It's always been me and Kyle, best friends for about 2 years, maybe 3 now, I don't even remember when we met. But it was like *snaps fingers* that. Right away.

Then he introduced me to Matty, and since then, me and Matty have been the core. We always think alike on music, and we're always the ones writing the new music, but lately Kyle's been back in the process.

Carlos and I were introduced through Matty about 6 months ago, and we've become better friends than anyone I've known in high school... 4 YEARS! I've become closer to this kid in 6 months than anyone else in 4 years... That's how much time we can spend with eachother and not get bored of eachother with. Hell, I think he's moving into my house because his mom is selling theirs underneath him, and he has nowhere else to go.

Kevin's a cool kid, but he's just too different compared to the rest of us, so there's the revolving character. He's a good singer, very weak keyboardist, and decent synth player, but he's just not like us...

We need a keyboardist/synth...ist? that can sing... Guy or girl... but just someone who fits in...

Therein lies the problem.

I wish I could make the most frustrated noise ever in type so this title would be fitting and not so long...

When people say quitting is the easy way out, they're wrong. I hate, I repeat, HATE being pessimistic. I have a horribly depressing outlook on things all of the time, and it's not easy being the person who's always there to keep you down to Earth.

My dreams are to be a professional (preferably famous) musician. I know this is highly unlikely, but I think that most of my lyrics (most I've never shown in this blog) are good enough to attract a lot of attention, and I've been told that the style of music that my band currently plays (and I will continue to write) is a nice way to catch attention as well. Now I love my band, but I can't stand one member recently, and I can't bring it upon myself to tell him anything about it cuz it'll trigger one of the many traits of his that I despise. He never shuts up.

Tell him to quit. Not easy way out.

Tell me to quit worrying about it so much or caring about it. It's not easy when he's in the group of 5 kids who you want to spend the next 10 years of your life playing music with.

Quitting is not the easy way out. The easy way out is apathy, and I care way too much about this to let go.

I'm in one huge f***ing pickle.

I quit.

A Brief For The Defense...

A moment of clarity, when clouds in skylines aren't just painted on light blue, they're really there.

When you get it, and you love it, who cares what the meaning teaches you, you got that far.

I got that far like 10 seconds ago. I woke up from a dead sleep because all of a sudden it hit me. No one is perfect, he's the one being fought against, and he's saying, "Everyone has a good side, let him at it." I got it. Well, horrible analysis, but this post is saying:

Find and read Jack Gilbert's A Brief For The Defense poem. It's a good one. Good works here.

Edit: Link - http://www.smith.edu/poetrycenter/poems.php?poem_id=77&name=jgilbert

Hmph... On par?

An open course of action, an infinite number of directions,
An ideal form, a not so ideal outcome.
The shift. Back foot, front heel, hips and shoulders,
Eyes focused.
Straight arm.
Stop. It hit the chin.
The inverse.
Heel down, hips turn, shoulders rotate.
Wrists? Let's just hope.

Contact.

Halfway there. Follow through, shoulders continue,
Hips rotate, chest towards target.
Back foot rotated, front foot pressure.

Follow. Repeat. Sometimes around 80 times.

Let's just hope.

Kinda late...

But I decided to listen to some advice... "Look at yourself, from outside your mindframe."

And I actually do this on a regular basis, but only as an examination of morals and future and still self-centered reasons. This time I looked at it from my friends' points of view because I saw two friends fighting and got both sides of the story. I was shocked to find out what I wrote after I snapped out of my "WRITING WRITING WRITING, NO BRAIN INVOLVED MODE" style of songwriting... It actually kinda sucks (not the song, the message.)

AutoBiography.

Color it red in the eyes of a bull
The biggest one you can find
And stand still, if you're as brave as you say
Watch the shaking and immobility sink inside

Chorus:
Your light blue eyes are sharpened
But your yellow skin and blacked heart
You're a coawrd and a liar, but tell yourself
You're gonna be something big.

Make your move, don't be careful
Cuz you wanna be known for being brash
A free soul who blows in the wind
Well follow through the window cuz you're a horrible friend

Chorus:
You're sense of style is ruined
By the heart on your sleeve and the throbbing ego
You're a coward and a liar, but tell yourself
You're what everyone wants to be...


You're a coward and a liar and a horrible friend (repeat)
2nd vocalist: What everyone wants to be (repeat)

...So I said, 'NICE HAT,' LOL

I love bad jokes. Even the ones that are absolutely horrible make you feel better because you realize almost anything you say is better than that. It's probably one of the few times people can compete to be worse at something and not feel stupid, because... it's a given that you're being stupid.

But what I realized tonight was that there hasn't been any new jokes out that suck, in the good way. There's the occasional joke that'll be like, "Hah, clever" or "...What?," but there's never any that everyone dies when they listen to only because of it's patheticness.

Bad jokes need a comeback, this whole trend of racism being funny is getting meh. Let's bring back the bad stuff.

Rocks, Paper, Song? Rene, this is getting out of control...

Okay, so yes, I wrote another song today, in Creative Writing, and yes, I love it. It's not as good as my other two, but I still like it. I'll post that and to deter you from just songs that I've written I'm going to post a piece of writing that I've yet to think of.

Song:

Waltz Of The Two Moons

Call it cheating, call it wasting
Time better suited for
What else than answering life's little questions
With a little bit of dancing in the mix.

Backyards to ballrooms
In dresses, skirts, and designer jeans.
In the wake of our mistakes
We'll build a history.

Call it rhythm, call it soul;
Reactions to the music makes our blood boil.
I'd give whatever I have left for
Warmth in the cold, her hands to hold as we dance in

Backyards to ballrooms
In dresses, skirts, and designer jeans.
In the wake of our mistakes
We'll build a history.

Dance breakdown, synth-tastic

Backyards to ballrooms
In dresses, skirts, and designer jeans.
In the wake of our mistakes
We'll build a history.
___________________________________________________________________

Okay, so now the other half of the post... Let's wing it, shall we?

A hammock, two lawn chairs, and a picnic table were messily strewn across the lawn, gathering the warmth of the fire on a cold night in April. On them sat six friends, myself included, with an acoustic guitar, throwing songs together on a whim.

"Hey J-dub, you got my lighter?"

"Yea, hold on..."

Jesse scrambled through his pockets, barely large enough to even hold a lighter, nevermind the cigarettes accompanying, and pulled out a pack of Malboro Reds and a cheap, plastic lighter.

"Here you go, George."

"Thanks man."

Between the six of them, only two didn't smoke, and they were the two best friends. They didn't need it to look cool, they were in a band. That was their excuse anyway.

"Carlos, play me a 'lil somethin' somethin', I have an idea," I said, trying to get another song started so that everyone could sing along. It was already 11:30, but the group sang as loud as they could whenever something repeated.

"When you said these cigarettes taste like new beginnings
I said 'Sorry, I don't smoke, and I like things how they are.'
But light me up a flame to burn, raging through the night
And I'll show you why I feel the way I do..."

After I had laid down the vocals to follow, everyone chimed in over and over with the verse. Quickly it became a theme of the night, being hummed or sung even when the guitar was lying on the picnic table.

"Aww, damnit. We're out of cigarettes," noted Emma, Jane's little sister, who'd gone to sleep some hours before. It was 1 in the morning, and everyone was on the verge of falling asleep themselves. Emma's outburst had shaken everyone back to life, and all of a sudden, sleep was not the goal, finding cigarettes became the newest necessity.

Carlos and I watched as George, Jesse, and Emma walked around George's house trying to find cigarettes. My car was the only means of transportation, and being a non-smoker, I'd refused to make a pick up.

It was at this moment that I realized that he could care less what happened with the cigarette situation. These were his friends, and he was watching them worry about a 3 inch long paper wrapped kiss of emphysema.

Truth.

Haha, I had no idea how to end it.

::clever wordplay::

Since people I know have been working on their monologues for Impaired, I decided to reflect on my past experiences with drinking and those of my friends. God I was so stupid. Really, I was. I've made some of the stupidest decisions ever when I was drunk. In my monologue, when I said "I'm done. I promise." I meant it. I quit. It's not worth it.

So, also reflecting on two-fifths of my band, I realized that it annoys me even more to see them get hammered, because I care about them more than anything. I mean, sure, they're having fun, but I don't want them to do something they'll regret and have to blame it on alcohol, like it's some panacea of mistakes. It's not. It's just stupid.

I wrote a song, what else is new. But, so my band doesn't know, I disguised them as a girl, to make it even more stereotypical pop-rock song. I just don't wanna start a war over it.

The Substance

You're so fragile under the influence
Like the alcohol's giving you substance
Behind the faulty framework that holds you up
All 5 foot 4 of you.
I hope you're havin fun alone...
I hope you're havin fun
With the ones who'll move on
And find more girls like you.
I hope you're havin fun alone...
I hope you're havin fun
With the ones who'll move on
And find more girls like you.

Drink up, and put down the bottle
But only when you're done.
Don't settle for less than perfect
You know you gotta be gone to do this right.
Wake up, and shoot down the idea
That you didn't have any fun...
As far as you can remember,
You were guaranteed to get some... last night.

You're so damaged the morning after
But your recovering like it never happened
And the scars that you hold aren't ones you can see
But they weigh you down all the same.
I hope your driving home alone...
I hope your driving home
And you realize
there's others like you.
I hope your driving home alone...
I hope your driving home
And you realize
They'll find them soon.

Drink up, and put down the bottle
But only when you're done.
Don't settle for less than perfect
You know you gotta be gone to feel alright
Sober up, and wipe down the tears
That have made your make-up run
You just need learn to let go
Of this foundation.

Drink up, and swallow your pride
Cuz you're out to make things fun.
I hope it ruins your night and
You choke on your security bottle of rum.

Dear Dr. Hillman,

You had time to gather pwnage material, so I came home, wrote a corny love song (that I actually love, and I think will make a great song), and I decided to post it just to spite you. This is the exact version I basically copied the notes right out of my notebook.

Read it all. Just do it.

Testing The Waters
Playing favorites was never my game
Til I started winning all the time with you.
Not really winning anything
Other than anything with you
But that's good enough for me...

You're just being you with me
And thats more than anything
I could ever ask for.
I'm just amazed that you believe
In something inside me
And that's more than anything...

Take a seat, tell me what you believe
And something embarrassing.
I'll follow suit, then start over,
We're not leaving til The water touches our feet.

You're just being you with me
And thats more than anything
I could ever ask for.
I'm just amazed that you believe
In something inside me
And that's more than anything...

Just be with me
Til the water hits our feet
And tide won't come close
If we don't go near the beach

You're just being you with me
And thats more than anything
I could ever ask for.
I'm just amazed that you believe
In something inside me
And that means more than anything...

Just be with me
Til the water hits our feet -Sing while ringing out.
And tide won't come close
If we don't go near the beach.

tl;dr - I posted a corny love song I wrote for my girlfriend just to "Teen poetry" Dr. Hillman to death.

Sorry I'm not here... Doctors, you know.

I'm going to start a discussion with this post... hopefully. I won't be there for the criticism, but, sadly, I think this excerpt from a song holds some truth.

Not only am I quoting the scenest of scene bands right now, I'm agreeing with them AND probably insulting half of the class... Sorry, prove me wrong.

From the song "I've Got A Dark Alley And A Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth" on Fall Out Boy's From Under The Cork Tree album, Pete Wentz wrote:

"And I want to be known for my hits, not just my misses
I took a shot and didn't even come close
At trust and love and hope
And the poets are just kids who didn't make it
And never had it at all."

Almost unwillingly, I totally agree with him. Not on the first 4 lines, but I was giving reference. He wants to be someone, and if he wasn't, his lyrics would be considered poetry, no? Or at least songs that never got put to music, and are lyrics separate? Technically it's rhyming meter in stanzas... But hey, I wouldn't know the details.

Poets are just kids who didn't make it and never had it at all.

When I think of writers, I don't think of poets, I think of novelists who wrote the great literature that defines my high school schedule. Granted, I like poetry and creative use of imagery and flow, but I can't see why anyone would want to just be a poet. With all of the **** that's already out there for reading, I think the last thing someone would want to go into is poetry.

I'm not saying poets have no talent for writing as he is, but I'm just wondering why if you have some sort of knack for prose, why not try and write one of the greats, something timeless (not saying poetry isn't timeless, though).

I don't know what I'm really trying to say, I've already waited too long to start my English paper... but I just thought that it'd spark a heated debate, and I'm kinda sad I'll miss it.

If it doesn't, well ****... I don't know what to do.

P.S. - If I continue writing, I'm going to be a poet by nature of lyrics, so I guess I'm a kid who never had it at all... But I just think that it's true: unless you're going for something different with your writing, poetry isn't much of a hit to base your writing around.

Best animal ever.

The giraftopuss. Cross breed that me and my friend George are making. That is all.

I'm no saint, but I'll take you to your knees.

Slowly.. carefully.. he lifted his chin, eyes scanning her eyes and lips for an answer that he didn't have to hear.

The tearing started almost immediately, he knew... She knew he was too young to need this, but she couldn't bring herself to lie to him.

His chest felt like it was going to explode, he collapsed onto the floor in a fit of emotional distress, but most of all, he was confused.

What could she say? She sat there and tried to hold him in her arms, torn between just holding and trying to comfort with words. Every once in a while he'd let out a screech and twist himself out of her stronghold. It was more of a restraint than a safety.

So he's the man of the house now... That's what dad said anyway...

"Protect them, more than I could."

Why is it...

That self-image only works when you don't want it to...

Like, I try to come off as an amazing rockstar, but fail completely, and I'm just "Rene, he's cool and funny," but not what I want to be... Hey, I'll take that though.

But seriously, right now there's a person in my life that thinks of herself as the biggest piece of ____ in the world, and since she's thought that, I've absolutely hated her. To me, and probably everyone else around her now, she is a piece of ____.

But if she was to think, "God I'm the prettiest girl ever," she'd be stuck up and a b-i-itch.

What the HECK!

Wow.

You ever look back on any of your old stuff (that you've written, in my case lyrics), poems or whatever you do, stories, etc. and just think, "Wow, what was I going through that I think of something so horrible..."

I just found some suicidal like hardcore metal lyrics from a while back and I kinda got scared to think that at some point those thoughts went through my head.

I'd share, but only on request... So if you wanna see em, lemme know.

Done.

Done. 6 tracks. $6.

Best experience ever.

There's the line... well, not really, but just imagine...

Behind the wheel and everything is igniting. Behind you a blaze of memories, ties and blissful indiscretion. The sun shines through the rearview mirror like an lens peering into your very controls, almost putting the words in your head.

The shadow line.

As the car passes, the trees are lit with orange glow, like candles in the darkness... Like matches spreading fire.

Crossed the line again...

Into the valley of death, barren trees and bleak pavement on the road to nowhere in particular.

The sun's set now... No line, no warmth.

Headlights beam down a tunnel of nothingness. Branches nestled tightly against one another, creating a ceiling of leave-less firewall to the stars...

Hours pass and the candles are lit again.

Hello, morning...

Hello, home.

Take a step back...

Take a step back through the back of your mind.
Watch yourself in reverie of days gone by.
This is what you've been molded into.

And so the choir sings.

New beginnings? More like transient relationships brought upon by the shattering of a glass that is life. So a glass holds liquid, and the human body is a vehicle of souls, powered by liquid. Slowly, liquid evaporates and leaves nothing but a glass, and slowly, the vehicles break down and the world is left with nothing but matter.

Imagine, a glass that is still full of liquid potential, knocked over.

One life is scattered across such a vast area that it has no choice but to form groups and fend for itself, in all it's pieces.

But, if the glass put the liquid into a new world...

What else could it have been?

There's no 'I' in blog...

So she knew. All along, and he'd been afraid to say anything other than the usual "Hey, what's up? What's new? How's things?"

But he should've known, she's smarter than that.

There were signs... He's not as smooth as he thinks he is.

But wait... she never really scolded him, or shown him any emotion other than sympathy and understanding, obviously forgiveness, but in all honesty, she'd acted like it was alright...

That's where she lost him.

That's where he realized that he can't force himself to prolong this. He'd made a mistake, he'd learn from it, but he wouldn't go on unpunished.

Things change, nothing stops them. He watched her try and couldn't help but cry.

She lost him in the crowd; she never caught up with him.

Maybe he is as smooth as he thought...

Weekends, eh?

Here's a little tool I'm gonna use from now on. If my posts have a bunch of stuff you don't wanna read or I'm ranting/emo/boring, scroll down, it might have a tl;dr, which stands for too long; didn't read. It's basically a recap.

I hate how weekends are becoming nothing but 2 days to do work OUTSIDE of school. Seriously though, it's not even like we have 2 days off anymore. I barely have any time over the weekend to actually relax anymore. Since I've had my band, which I love and will never complain about working for, I've had to dedicate every sunday from 12 - 8 to practice and writing new material, then we all go home and THEN I start homework for school.

Saturdays are always filled with something else to do, find a job, work towards college, something for my mom, some kind of family thing. It's kinda depressing. Even my friends are the same way. A lot of them work a lot now that we're seniors, and it kinda sucks because it's just ruining our "thank god for the weekend" mentality, or at least for me.

Plus, I got this stupid flu from my sister... Being sick is the worst.

P.S. - Don't miss me too much, guys. I pass my stupid-comment-making ability in class to Dylan today, who realized how emo he really is over the weekend.

tl;dr - I'm sick, weekends suck, and Dylan's emo.

When Everybody Knows This Is Getting Out Of Hand

It's amazing to know that people care about something you're doing. Probably the most important thing that's happened to me so far in my life is knowing that people want to buy my band's demo. It may sound really trivial and stupid, but it's so touching to know that, even if it's just a way to support and they don't wanna listen, they want to help me live out my dreams. This CD is not just something I'm doing for something to do, me and my lead guitarist have written every song together, and it's so much a piece of us that it's more than you can imagine.
Actually, you probably can. Knowing the people in my creative writing class, I can tell that some of you are going to turn out to be better writersr than I could ever imagine to be (Laura, Mogget, and Chelsea, maybe Dylan, but he's just an emo kid ;]). It's like knowing that people would be interested in reading a book you wrote, or other people, it's like people wanting to hear your story.

Well, yea. I guess it's like the Rev. Dr. Hillman has been saying the whole time. We have stories. You write them, I try to, but my stories are in my music, and, God... Let me tell you... It's amazing to feel positive reinforcement on something so sensitive as music. I've had people who like rap and hip hop tell me they'll buy my band's demo and actually listen.

I don't know if I can believe it, but it hits me the same way either way.

I love it.

For Chelsea

Arlen tried to regain composure as he stared at the 5 drawers of the heavy, metal desk...
For such a colorful place as a coffee shoppe, Arlen couldn't help but wonder why the office,
or so he assumed it should be, was so void of life and cold.
His attempts, however, were in vain as he started to sweat from all the excitement.
Thoughts of his family ran through his head, the few memories he had were being replayed over and over as he made the first move toward the center, stationary drawer.

As he suspected, it was filled with pencils and staples, the usual paperwork materials. Nothing out of the ordinary.

But even ordinary would be enough for him right now. Any sign of how he ended up in Paravice alone, without any recollections of his life before 13 would be more than what he'd asked for.

Top left drawer, empty except for an old planner, dated 2012. He skimmed the pages for his name. Roulet... Roulet...

"Damn I wish I knew my parents' names," Arlen thought as he saw nothing but names and numbers with no Roulet to be found.

Bottom left. Folders of sales and profits, bills and charts...

Not even a picture. Arlen couldn't point out his parents if they were sitting right next to him, he had to adjust to his new life in Paravice as if his life before that had never existed. Because, for all he knew, it didn't.

Right side, top drawer. Stuck. He couldn't pry the drawer out of its jam, so he moved on.

Last one: applications for hire, past employee records. His eyes lit up as he remembered what pointed him hear in the first place. "Roulet? You related to that old coffee shoppe girl? What was her name, Leia?"

Flipping through pages he stared down pages with such a fervent determination that anyone watching could have swore he'd burn a hole through the paper. Names upon names of strangers who could help him find his family, and answer the questions he'd wondered for so long, the airship crew only knew as much as he did.

After about 4 applications, Arlen heard a noise from inside the dining room, so he grabbed all of the applications and began to make his way out. Once back in the dining room, he saw that it was empty except for him, and he strolled across the room toward the door.

Another creak.

Arlen darted around to see that a cat had found a way inside, probably escaping the cold of autumn in Fircenz. He felt relieved, but realized that he'd spent more time than he needed to inside, and that it was time to go. He thanked the cat and let himself out.

A chill gust snapped Arlen back to reality. Miles from anywhere he'd called home, it was time to find a place to stay.

A Big Ol' WTF?

I just saw the weirdest thing ever.

This isn't my piece of writing for the night, just a little observation from my day.

I just saw a kid, couldn't have been more than 11, with a Haro BMX bike, a RAZR cellphone, a Vote For Pedro shirt and seemingly brand new skate shoes. (I was at a red light)

Does that disturb anyone else? That's like ultimate "model for biggest tool ever" material.

Frailty

How appropriate that you blow down my card house
As soon as I'm closing in on the deck.
Winds through supports of cardboard and ink
About as breakable as my neck.
So you'll huff and you'll puff
With all of your breath,
Inhale, exhale, empty threat me to death.
And I'll light a cigarette
Against my best interest
To second-hand smoke your attempt.
My defenses in shambles
And all I have left
Is this cross I bear
For what reason, I forget.
Not idol nor practice,
But more like a test
Of how inevitable it is to regret.
So take a deep breath
And blow me to pieces
To scatter and die with the wind;
And one last gasp of truth
Before I weather the seasons
Hits my lungs like cancerous sin.

Microphone check: One, two, one, two.

Soundwaves pierce my shell
My protection from the world...
Hit me where it counts
Resonating in the chambers of my very soul.
Crawl down my spine to the tips of my toes
Where the wire meets my heel
To power me, control.
Scream to me, straight into my ear drums,
Collapse means nothing.
Keep the energy alive.
Keep the focus, keep the attention.
I'm here to make you heard.
I'm here to share your story,
Loud and clear through the speakers,
I'm living through you.
Vicarious.

Hands Tied

I hate when people can not make decisions for themselves.
You have a brain, you have a personality, but you let everyone else decide for you.
Seriously, if you're not going to be an individual, you might as well sell yourself to slavery, because you're only living to do what other people are telling you to do.
And I'm not talking about people who can not conjure up the mental capacity to make an educated decision, I'm talking about people like you and me.
"What do you want to do?" "I don't care, you pick."
I asked you for a reason. At least tell me. What the hell is wrong with these people.
Individuality is a gift, not an option.

I'm not saying I'm entirely self-sufficient or completely separate from everyone, but at least I can share my opinion. It's ridiculous. I'm gonna work on Arlen's story.

Continued from last post:

"Barely even inside, Arlen could feel the normalities of his life slip away into a fusion of past and present. This was a key to the past, where so much was going to be cleared up.
This small store was knowledge built into every brick, it was truth in every corner and shelf.
Closing the door behind him, Arlen glided through the entrance hall and into the main room of the store, which seemed to have been a streetside café of years past.
Coffee tables and bookshelves dusted over with a layer of neglect were just blurs as Arlen paced through the room to the back door.
Inside the office, he took a seat behind the desk in hopes to find a trace of his name."

P.S. - I'm not going to bull____ anything for a grade. I'm going to write and express myself when something hits me hard enough to initiate thought worthy of a post. I'm not going to write a post a night and let this become a LiveJournal, because I want it to be more than that.

Shows are the best.

So my band played our first show Friday night, and let me tell you, it was effing amazing.

The best part was people liked us. It was funny though cuz they were afriad we were gonna suck cuz we did a shitty home recording of a song a while back, and then when we played, we got the biggest response, it was cool.

K, time for some reflecting and writing, I've been thinking of this concept for a while.

"So there it stood, a dwarf in the presence of giants.
A seed to the past in a city far ahead of its years.
From the outside it looked like it was ready to blow in the wind,
crumpled up and frayed at the edges like a picture from the cameras back when the building stood anew.
So from across the street, Arlen Roulet stared through the window at the empty shop,
Nervous but excited to break in.
It was too late at night to get caught, but the fear still hung in the back of his head
Like the doubts of his motive in the first place.

This was it.

This was where he'd find his answers."

I'll continue it later... what a cliffhanger.

P.S.

My lyrics, copyrighted. Bitches.

You want a lie?

I'll give you a lie. Love's still alive.

"Love is just a four letter word we can hide behind
Cuz it's so easy to use, but so hard to define.
All clever words and misconceptions aside
All I'm trying to say is 'I love you.'"

This, Ladies and Gentlemen, Is What We Call Falling Out of Being

So yea, recovering from last week's absolute retardation of a blog, I'm here to talk again.

Ever wonder why everyone thinks differently? We see basically the same things happen in our every day lives but we approach them and react to them all different.

I've been writing songs lately just to drain my head of everything it seems to like to think about, and I just can't seem to escape the pure chaos that is my thought process. I have a semi-easy life, I know that, and I know I shouldn't feel as pressured as I do, but it's hard to break away from the ion changes that mandate my every move.

I have an amazing band/group of friends, I love someone unconditionally for the first time in my life, my family is crazy as ever but I still love them, and I'm into college, I really have nothing to worry about, but the last 4 days have been hell on earth for me.

Why do I see everything so grey and bleak? Why am I so pessimistic?

I wish I had an answer, and that would make reading this blog less of a LiveJournal entry, but I can't help you there, and I doubt you can help me. My brain has this weird way of covering all grounds so even help seems pathetic because it's oh-so-clever.

I'm gonna leave this blog with a song that I wrote last night...

Untitled
"I thought I could hide it
But it's eating me alive
These misplaced trusts I've put in you
Are killing me inside.
Cuz I've instilled false prophets
Who claim the truth is theirs to tell
And you're buying ever word
I've given them to sell.

I can't handle
Watching this crumble
My soul is trapped inside this cage.
I've poured the blood from my heart
Into this porous container
To leak the secrets I've held too long.

Now it's out in the open
Jump to your conclusions
I've lied to you all, but it's all an allusion
To me.
And my trust condition
What else can I say?
I need to let go of this foundation.

I can't handle
Watching this crumble
My soul is trapped inside this cage.
I've poured the blood from my heart
Into this porous container
To leak the secrets I've held too long.

Call me out...
Wear me down...
Cuz I'm not worth all the hype surrounding me...
The words I say...
Like they speak of change...
When all I really want is something to stay the same..."

And yes, I'm sorry, it's copyrighted Rene Legault and Fall Hero Fall, I recorded it acoustic last night. You can't steal it.

Here comes the meaningful part.

"We'll be waves
Crashing down onto the shores of our futures
We'll take the flames
Out of the fire and put them in the palms of our hands."
- Myself for my band.

Ever want to just take your life by the balls and be able to control everything? I mean, yea, we decide what happens, etc., but overall, control your surroundings and everything else. It'd be nuts.
Seriously though, life is a game of luck. Get seen doing something that is "cool," you're set. But it all depends on if someone sees you who can make a difference, and I'm waiting for the someone.

Fuckin' bring it on, I'm gonna be a rockstar.

PUNTO!

Zelda, Music, Friends, and some liquor. Good Friday if you ask me.

01. "We're like Jesus dude!" - Punto!

Yea, man, thats a parable story for you. Good Friday, like the religious day, get it?

Yea it's deep.

Ok enough with the numbers, but yea, good night. Just journaling, the blog is next.

Say what you're thinking right now.

You ever get that feeling that just says, "This is good, but oh **** is it gonna be hard." Welcome to my band for the past week. We've had to kick out a member and we have our first show coming up in 2 days, when, frankly, I don't think we're ready. I know for a fact myself and my lead guitarist can go out and play fine, but our drummer gets nervous and plays faster than he's supposed to, and our rhythm guitarist has stagefright. Come on. Our keyboardist/backing vocalist hasn't memorized the lyrics or vocal melodies and he doesn't even have lines in half our songs because he's relatively new.

I think we got a chance to take this battle of the bands.

Sarcasm.

Total change of topic. I hate when people can not detect sarcasm. Online I can understand because it's impossible to tell when someone's telling the truth or lying because it's all so monotone. Typing, bleh. But when you say something absolutely sarcastic and someone questions you, don't you want to just hit them? It's not that hard to tell that someone was joking.

Bleh, I'm done. I'll get better.

P.S. - I censored shit because I don't know if I can get in trouble for what I write in here.

P.P.S. - Yea, I said shit. Get over it Prout.