- Listener
TALYA
Age: 15
Location: Canada
Joined On: May 01, 2008
I love music and anything that has to do with it. I listen to indie,metal,alternativepower pop, heavy metal,techno,electronica, house, and classical. I play drums, guitar, piano, keyboard, harmonica, violin, and the harp. And I gotta love my pops !
STOP
Isnt it funny that when you go to the shops with your friends, you look down at the girl with black jeans and studs, but smile at the girl wearing a mini with a t-shirt that barely covers anything? Isnt it funny you can change your music taste to impress a guy, but when it comes to a girl who likes her own music and her own style, you give her a mouthful? ISNT IT FUNNY that a guy can get away with being a gangsta, but the emo gets a mouthful from everyone? are you laughing? Isnt it funny a emo can be quiet all through the week but gets more baloney from everyone than the girl who sleeps around and sells her virginity? ISNT IT FUNNY that you dont mind your friends drinking or smoking, but the minute someone mentions emo music you can give them a lecture on melodramatic teenage outcasts? im not laughing. IT'S SO FUNNY that you and your friends can make a girls life hell and not know anything about the silent battle she might be fighting. ISNT IT FUNNY that you can call emos, punks, and goths the retards, but still manage to get through your day without an inch of guilt in your heart. HOW YOU CAN CALL A GIRL A POSER, HOW CAN YOU SAY "YOUR NOT EMO" OR "ATTENTION SEEKER" WITHOUT SPENDING A SECOND TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHY THERE ARE CUTS ON HER WRISTS AND WHY SHE SPENDS HER LUNCHTIMES CRYING INSTEAD OF LAUGHING WITH HER FRIENDS? KEEP ON LAUGHING! isnt it funny you can say and do all this without any idea of what is going on in this persons life without knowing her situation with her friends or her family or her life? BRAVE ISNT GOING UP ON STAGE AND STRIPPING. BRAVE IS NOT SAYING A SPEECH OR DUMPING YOUR BOYFRIEND. BRAVE IS GOING TO SCHOOL ON MUFTI DAY AND NOT FOR A SECOND CARE WHAT THE PEOPLE AROUND YOU ARE SAYING ABOUT YOUR CLOTHES. ITS LISTENING TO YOUR OWN MUSIC AND BEING PROUD OF IT. ITS GOING THROUGH EVERY DAY WITH THE THINGS PEOPLE SAY TO YOUR FACE AND BEHIND YOUR BACK AND YOU STILL KEEP QUIET ITS KNOWING WHAT YOUR "FRIENDS" ARE SAYING ABOUT YOU AND STILL CALLING THEM YOUR FRIENDS. BRAVE IS KNOWING THAT TOMOROW ISNT A BRIGHT AND HAPPY FUTURE, ITS ANOTHER DAY OF BITCHING AND DODGING RUMORS. KEEP ON LAUGHING. if you agree put this in ur blog. i read this and started crying. I've been that kid who is laughed at because of his/her music..clothes..friends..thoughts..words..feelings.. no one should do this.. stop it..if you see it.
If a tree falls in the forest...
If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it does it make a sound? Yes. A deaf person walks into the forest and records the tree falling. They then bring the evidence to people who can watch and listen to it. The tree fell in the forest and no one heard it, yet it made a sound (:
Random Thoughts
1)Something that irritates me: You know what really grinds my gears? Tangled cords behind my computer. When I moved out of the Discipleship House in May I remember being irritated by the tangled mass of cords behind my computer when I unhooked it. I took a lot of great time and care untangling them and placing everything neatly into a box so that I could transport my computer safely to my house without messing anything up. And when I got here, I took great care in re-hooking everything back together and making sure that all of my untangled cords had plenty of breathing space. There was not a knot, not a twist, not a single sign of a tangle anywhere. “Now stay like that,” I commanded. Recently the USB port in the front of my pc has been acting up so I decided to venture around to the other side to plug something into a port back there. When I take a peek in the back, lo and behold I find an entangled jungle of cords, intricately weaved in and out of one another as if they had become living snakes while I wasn’t looking and decided to join together to keep warm, and stayed that way. “What are you guys doing???” I demanded of my cords, who certainly seemed to be inanimate objects at the time. You know how when you were a kid, you might have had the sneaking suspicion that your toys came to life and gallivanted about the room behind your back, excluding you from their secret life of independent movement? I’m starting to feel that way again. And I know that my computer cords have the intent of driving me mad. I mean really, what goes on behind my computer? How does this happen??? When I saw that my cords were tangled again, I set to work attempting to straighten them back out. And it took a lot of figuring out, a lot of tracing, un-weaving and even unplugging. How could plugged-in, cords become arranged in away that I have to un-plug them in order to put them back properly? I just can’t understand it. There shouldn’t be much movement back there! Does someone come along when I’m not looking and move everything around for me? Is this some kind of plot to make me doubt my sanity even more than I already do? I can accept that the drier is fond of eating one sock from each pair every now and then, slowly diminishing my collection to a drawer of un-matching socks. I realize that the sink has an automatic re-fill mode that it goes into when no one is in the kitchen, making it impossible to go more than five minutes with an empty sink, no matter how often I wash the dishes. And I’m even aware that Snow Days are mainly dependent on how much school work I accomplish the night before it snows. I can bring an entire blizzard by simply completing reading assignments and papers, but the second I forget, lose or ignore anything due the following day, the snow flakes will evaporate in mid-air, allowing for an ice-free, normal day of school as long as my work isn’t done. But the cords behind my computer, how to they get like this? I’m not ready to believe that they’re really working against me. I love my computer. How can it want to do this to me? I just want the cords to sit still and untangled in the back. 2) Something that makes me nervous: I hate being in long lines at grocery stores. You know, the kind that starts to feel more and more tense as you get closer and closer to the register? The line doesn’t keep getting shorter at all. In fact, what seemed like a monstrously long line when I became the last person in back, has certainly tripled its length behind me and is twisting like a great vine all around the store. And every single person in that line behind me can see me and is watching as the last item from my cart moves towards the end of the conveyor belt to be scanned across the little red laser by whatever soulless, droning cashier is swiping item after item, completely apathetic of the never-ending line of increasingly impatient customers. Wanting the line to continue at a steady place, I have my money ready when the cashier scans my final item. I have been paying attention to every price, and have calculated that she will ask me to give her about fourteen dollars, so have a ten and a five ready. And then the person behind the counter says, “That’s $16.53.” Having absentmindedly placed my wallet back into my bag, I begin fumbling about for an extra two dollars and fifty-three cents. But my bag, which seemed entirely too small this morning, has suddenly become a bottomless pit, perhaps with an undetectable extending charm on it, swallowing my wallet somewhere, deep into its belly. The steady, flowing pace of this very long, very tense line has been interrupted. I am holding up traffic. The other customers behind need to purchase their products and it’s very urgent that they leave the store soon. It’s no wonder that their grumbling irritably behind me. As I’m digging deeper and deeper into my bottomless bag, a child is doing the pee-pee dance, a woman is going into labour, and London Bridge is falling down. If only I could hurry up and be finished in the line, things could be restored to their proper order. Finally, after it occurs to me to try, “Accio wallet,” and after I discovered that any remaining ones or coins that I might have thought I had have vanished, I thrust an crumpled twenty-dollar bill at the cashier. And then it’s time for the most awkward part of the entire product purchasing process. The giving and receiving of change. “Three dollars and forty-seven cents,” The cashier says as she hands me an odd assortment of ones, nickels, dimes and pennies. “Have a nice day.” That’s my dismissal. I thank her, but it seems that there is no allowance for time so I can put my money away. Wanting to move out of the way of the man behind me, I push my cart forward, but I can’t push it properly and get my money in order at the same time. So I do a sort of scoot and move dance and try to avoid getting hit by oncoming carts as I merge into traffic. 3) Something I’d like to go back to: We’re all crowded together, as many as we can possibly fit and I’ve got myself perfectly situated in exactly the right spot. My little fingers wrapped around the metal bars on either side of me, facing outward where can see everything when we start spinning. Other kids are still shuffling around, sliding across the chipped, red paint. “Okay, everybody ready?” asks an older kid that we’d found to push. I cross my legs Indian Style and squeeze the bars tightly as he starts to push us around and around. Slowly at first, but then we spin faster and faster until everything I can see, trees, swings sets and slides, all become a blur of colours. My friends, siblings and cousins around me all scream and squeal in excited laughter, “I’m going to fall off!” some of them cry like the Shepard boy cried wolf. But I remain silent, taking in as much as I can as we whirl around at what must be at least a hundred miles an hour. It’s what I imagined it’d feel like if I could fly: fast, free and exhilarating. In my imagination, it’s like I really am flying, and I’m in the sky zooming up and down, rather than confined to this small area circling around over and over again. I think of what’d be like if this big piece of equipment came loose from its fixing point. Maybe it’d spin right off of the ground up into the air and we really would fly. When people start shifting around, I find space to lie down with my back on the metal, pushing my feet against the bars I’d been holding onto in order to stay in place. I stare up at the swirling sky for a moment, but when we begin to slow down I close my eyes. With my eyes closed, I can feel illusions. I’m up, I’m down, I’m floating side ways. And even when we stop I feel like we’re still spinning. I know we’re not because I can hear my laughing playmates sliding around and jumping off of the merry-go-round. But I remain laying on my back, seeing the bright red of my eye lids until it doesn’t feel like I’m spinning anymore.
Kelly
Ah I'm sorry to hear it, I can relate my sister is a
marine. She was in Iraq last year for christmas. She is
home now but just recently reenlisted for another 4
years.
posted Dec 20
Kelly
Aw why a bit muddled? Im good thanks :)
posted Dec 19
Kelly
so how are you?
posted Dec 17
Kelly
hey thanks for the add :)
posted Dec 15