| | i am in a pop-punk band dedicated to 8-bit video games. for anyone who is interested, we have a myspace account (www.myspace.com/thesimonbelmonts) and we have two songs at www.purevolume.com/thesimonbelmonts. two more songs are on the way, we're just waiting for them to be mixed down. | comments: 3 comments or Leave a comment   |
| worked up about going to college. that's when i run into the burning building to save my crying insides. i do think my persistance is worthy of something. i try every year. every year i run into a financial brick wall. money is funny sometimes. they say money isn't everything. that's true, however, everything is founded by money. there is only one element in the entire universe, and that is money. time is money. money is problem [mo' money mo' problems]. i even hear that money makes the world go 'round. i wish i couldn't give a damn about a greenback dollar. i don't know about you guys, but i think the new money that recently came out doesn't look like it's even money. these cotton based, two-dimensional (for the most part), pieces of paper are what we take so much stock in [pun intended], yet it's supposed to not be the most important thing in your life, but if you value anything more than money you will eventually have no life.
if oxygen was taxable most of us would be dead. | | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment |
| the workers are working with fingers worn white
"what is it worth?" one might hear them whimper
schoolgirls and schoolboys with schoolbooks and schooltoys
rushing to classes and ruching back home
"please tell me the answer" the students all ask of their
teachers and tutors but teachers and tutors are
workers just working with fingers worn white
whisper me this mister class president
are ten year reunions of fussings and feudings
about "where we went wrong" where you reap rewards?
i proclaim this nation in states of lethargy
to fence it and box it and lift it
nevermore. | | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment |
| | don't you just hate when people post comments on your live journal and then you get mad at everyone so you stop posting, then later, when you do post, nobody comments? | | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment |
| | i want to be in a motorcycle gang leather-clad and bad and fucked up all the time | | comments: Leave a comment |
| i was never really any good at any one thing while others around me would be, so i decided the best course of action would be to not impress anyone since i really couldn't anyhow. now it seems when i would like to impress people, i feel ridiculous and in all honsesty, i sometimes have a hard time trying to do so.
i have a scar slightly below and to the right of my right eye. i recieved it while becoming slightly intimate with the corner of the coffee table set up in the living room of one of my dad's friend's house. that'll show me to never play indiana jones on the couch.
i really love ordinary things, or things that look like the ordinary. call it an obsession.
i'm not ambidextrous, but believe me, i've tried.
i have two bad ankles from a sort of ungraceful old pasttime. that'll certainly show me to excersize.
i barely get any sleep. not that it's any of your fault.
i feel overweight and slobbish. i don't care what you see.
lately i've been feeling like i'm wearing a body shell and i'm actually some gaseous form locked inside.
i get really nervous when i'm sitting in a car that a not so lawful driver is operating. i don't know where that comes from.
call me lame, but i'm lame.
my eyes are smaller than i think they are. again, this is of no fault of your doing.
i don't cut my fingernails, or at least not often, i usually bite them. this results in oddly formed nails and frustrating times when i can't satisfyingly scratch my head.
i would like to say that i'm ambitious. i just lake the necessary motivation.
i'm not lazy, just really relaxed at inappropriate moments.
i wish i had a set of headphones that worked. blame yourself for that if you want.
people call me an eskimo. i really don't appreciate that. i can't really stop them, and if i asked them to stop they would feel bad which would make me feel bad. so, if i feel bad at either outcome, who the fuck cares?
i spell favourite with a "u." so sue me.
i like to play video games. i suppose that's not really a problem.
i hate money. that is your fault.
if i wrote a book about my life, everyone would read it, because i'd steal millions of dollars from some other city like san marino and i'd donate all the money to public schools in exchange for making my autobiography a mandatory part of the curriculum.
i wish i was taller.
i wish i was a baller.
i wish i was a girl.
i suppose a phone would also be nice.
i eat meat. go fuck yourself.
it seems to me that nobody really likes music anymore. maybe it's just me.
i wish i had a story that last more than five minutes. then again, that could also be my fault: i don't really do much and sometimes i don't like talking.
i wisht i kould write good.
i wish i didn't write that.
i wish charity would call me.
i want someone to be more interested in sitting than talking.
i wish i wasn't so uncomfortable.
i wish i was either more or less self-conscious.
i wish i never polluted my brain.
i wish i looked better.
i wish i knew what the hell i'm really doing. not just here, but now.
i want a new drug.
i wish i was going to school.
i wish bad things happened to me less or with less of a severity.
i wish i did more bad things so i could blame more things on karma.
i wish people would stop asking me if i was ok.
i wish people would stop fighting.
i wish i looked like somebody. that way people would be like "hey your that guy that looks like that one person." i'd be like "yeah that's me." as it is now, nobody really has any need to know of my existence. this is not a sappy complaint that desperatly calls for attention. i sometimes do feel this way.
sometimes i wish people would compliment me more. then again i don't really do much for others, but then again, what do they do for me?
i wish i could make up my mind. indecision sucks.
am i really alive?
am i really?
am i?
questions posed as sentances
typing for fifteen minutes without a capitol letter.
i may be tired, but what is tired?
maybe i should be more aggressive.
maybe i should act macho.
maybe i should be an asshole.
maybe i should care more. what do i not really care about?
why are you reading this?
why am i typing this?
what the hell is my problem. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| mother's birthday. and on that note...
recently i have decided to paint stuff, and such. more recently than that, i've decided that painting sucks. about ten minutes ago, i vetoed my vote and i guess painting is okay. i sort of like it better than panting, but not as much as i like panties. and boy do i like wearing pants. pants.....pants......pants......
i can't believe i'm posting that.
i just found out that when i update my journal, i can do stuff to comments that people leave. one such ability is a mass action deletion. yeah, true story.
i just got the sudden urge to wonder why people can be self-absorbed enough to want to post things on the internet for everybody to see. at the very least, there is livejournal, but i think it extends to mcdonalds. who the hell needs to know of specials they will be having two months in advance. and it's not like people need the website to find the nearest location, mcdonalds takes up the entire freaking world.
and on that note i'd like to wish my mother a hapy birthday. | | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment |
| | on a whim, decided to just go, much to the surprise of tristram. i really need to finish my application to reed. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| started a "zine production company" called rdstsp. or rather, i started it, or something. anyway, lauren's already made zine is the first of the line. while we were sitting at denny's, i suggested that danny make one. it's sort of crappily made, but he made it. it's his first one done on the fly. anywho, here is our archive as of yet:
rdstsp 001 - scrabble girl #1 (by lauren)
rdstsp 002 - welcome to my humble abode [i assume he's calling it this] (by danny)
rdstsp 003 - ache and battery (by me)
i'm pretty excited about it. i hope we at least get through rdstsp 010. if so, then none of this is pointless, but i seem to start projects like this and never follow through with it. then again, a project like this doesn't really require much effort. i don't know how often we will be doing this, but i can already see that it may cost quite a bit of money. i don't know, i think this is a good idea. espescially if i get that job at radio shack. | | comments: 3 comments or Leave a comment |
| | will somebody please give me something to think about? | | comments: Leave a comment |
| acquired a guitar that i bought off of ebay. the only problem is that, i suppose since it cost me 8 bucks, it isn't a very good guitar. for some reason, after tuning the low e string to the a string, open e is almost half a step lower than it should be. i suppose i got what i paid for. anyway, i really should be writing the rest of my essays for the reed application. i've just been really lazy lately. i also need to go to my parent's house to get their information for the fafsa, but i'm really dreading having to do that.
lately, i've been really wanting to do something. i don't know what to do. like, i want to be able to do something that is reproducable, so i could hand a copy of whatever it was to people i know. i've been really uninspired as of late.
yesterday i had my first band practice in ages. it was for a hard-core band. i really don't know how to play drums for it. and on top of that, the guitarists seem to have some issues between them. on top of all that, we have a show next month. i don't really know what to make of it all. | | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment |
| | will soon be called my home. i talked to the admissions office at reed. i think i explained this earlier, but the way the mail system works, i missed the pick-up time by an hour on the 15th, thereby having to have my application post-marked on the 16th. this would make the application a day late. however, upon conversing with a secretary, i found out the the deadline really isn't all that strict and, as the story goes, there was an ice storm in portland the week before i visited. this made reed college behind in paperwork anyway. an act of god it is, and what a god it is. thank you alaska. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | however, apparently, the mail system does not work the way i thought it would. i mailed it at the ups station at green firs, but even though it ws the 15th, it would be post-marked for the 16th, meaning my application would be a day late. i didn't think it would matter that much, but i was kind of upset. even tristram, the guy who convinced me to apply, is unsure whether or not they will accept it. i should e-mail the office and tell them about it. hopefully they'll understand. i worked for lauren's grandmother. lauren and i helped clean her grandma's kitchen and stuff because she is moving soon. anyways, the point is that i recieved thirty five dollars for my work. with a five that laurn generously gave to me, i went and bought a money order for the application fee. all my money is gone. the point of that story is that tristram thinks the office won't accept my application and so the fee that i had already paid will be pointless. thank you tristram. whatever. i'm still going to finish my essays and turn them in. i think there is still a chance. | | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment |
| back to my high school for the first time in ages in order to get copies of my transcripts. apparently they cost two dollars apiece if you are not currently a student there. so, penniless and sans-transcripts, i ventured on over to an old teacher's room to ask for a recommendation letter. ms. fox, being who she has always been, was not in her room. somehow, she always has time to do everything in the world and then some. while waiting for her, mrs. clarke walked by. she asked how i was doing and the usual small chat. i told her i was fine. she told me i sounded quivocal and that she was really busy. then ms. holmstrom walked by. we had similar chats, except that i needed her to write a letter as well. so, letter proposal, letter proposal acception.
whilst standing in the hallway immediately before the doorway of ms. fox's classroom, i started breathing heavily. looking around at all these new students and whatnot. it was extremely overwhelming. i just kept thinking that i graduated from here and everything i've done, everything i've gone through has been washed over with a new crowd. everything i've done here is meaningless now. i walked to ms. holmstrom's class hoping she could calm me down, and there was ms. fox. i asked her about the letter, and i started shaking and i got really pale and i couldn't speak correctly, so they took me to mr. foley's room. mr foley, by the way, happens to be a counselor.
we all had a long talk about stuff, why i came, how i felt, why i started freaking out. both the teachers agreed to write letters for me. then i had a long talk with the counselor about my venture into college (about now is a good time to explain that mr. foley, while not being my counselor when i was in high school, still remembered me when i needed to talk to him because my actual counselor, miss salyers, was busy (side note number two, miss salyers, since my last encounter with her, met a man and moved to texas to marry him. this was sometime last year)). mr. foley has always seemed like a hardline, no-nonsense, discipline kind of a guy. and he is, to an extent, just not to the extreme that i had once thought. he helped to calm me down and to agreed to do everything he could in order to help me along my way to reed, such as tell ms. herd to give two (free) copies of my transcripts. i never liked ms. herd. and i hope one day she will be as nice as she thinks she is, that way she will look back at these times and remember all the times she was mean to me and will want to apoligize. she really isn't that bad, but, highschool (being the hell that i remember) was bad enough not to have her around.
after going to school, i picked up lauren's mother's x-rays, and then i went to mcdonalds for the first time in forever. i needed to get my w-2. i just kept thinking "no small talk, i just want my freakin' w-2." misty (an old manager) was at the counter and boy was she excited to see me. so was a fellow employee and drinking buddy. long story short, no w-2.
lauren gave me her starbucks card that she got for christmas and asked me to get her a fudge brownie frappucino and told me i could get whatever i wanted. i wound up getting a soy latte. i figured i should get something that i could make on my own. the total came out to 7.50 (and i was like "wtf, mate?"). after i drank my drink and told my tale to lauren. i felt much better.
yesterday was a good day. everyone was just being so supportive. | | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment |
| | seen snow, and in the past three days it has snowed twice. that is the most it has snowed in the past three years, i believe. after a short stroll, and after collecting enough water that i could barely carry it anymore, there's this certain pain that comes only when in extended amounts of time in the snow. your fingers become more numb than your feet get after several hours of playing video games. your knuckles are literally chilled to the bones that make them up. but, at the same time, it's a sort of pain that, at the very least, i welcome whole-heartedly. i can safely say it is the only risk of frostbite that i will ever endure willingly. take that, jack. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| more i look into it, the less likely it seems that i will be able to pay for tuition, that is, you know, if i do get accepted (which, at the same time, is also bothering me).
i had this plan, that i was going to write a really long essay to bill gates or some other such high-salary type of a guy explaining that i'd like to make a contract that if i could borrow a million dollars, i'd pay him back and everything (i'd even have little charts that calculate in all the interest and such). sure it kind of sounds like people have already done it, but i think if i did it, he might at least read the letter before he throws it out after the first page. see, i'd write in stuff like how i am going to use if for college tuition and whatnot, and how it would be a good investment and what i would contribute to society (or even to his company or something). maybe i could throw in my soul, you know, to sweeten the deal. anyone think he'd buy it? | | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment |
| my discomfort, they are also apparently heat sensitive. i know this now, but prior to my consumption of soft-shelled tacos i did not. serves me right for eating meat. or, something. i have been drinking a lot of coffee lately and i think it may be a disruption in the flow of my appetite.
all in all, i'm much more content with the thought that one day i may look back and laugh at a younger myself currently the current myself. | | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment |
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