As organized as a new puzzle

     I can't keep myself together. I get upset over the most miniscule things. I get annoyed so terribly easy. I get frustrated to the point of crying. But on the flip side I get so happy over the slightest remarks. I laugh hard at the simplest things. I get excited to the point of suppressed screaming and bouncing around. It doesn't make sense, but I suppose that most things don't.
     I'm smart, good with words and such and yet I'm always trying to understand. I want to know why you think one thing over the other. I want to understand how certain things make you feel. I want to know the reasoning behind your strong beliefs and opinions. I'm eager to see your point of view. Yet I fail, to no avail. (No rhyme intended.)

"I am a simply complex machine. I simply go through the same mechanical motions which create a series of complex results." -Passíon Neftali Leon

Space consumer

     I've been trying to blog since the last day I did but when I'm sitting in front of my computer, the words just don't come to me. I type a paragraph in five minutes only to hate in within five seconds of finishing. I mean, it's not like I haven't done anything that isn't worth blogging about, but I just cannot seem to do it in a way that is pleasing to my tastes...I digress.
     I have done a lot since I last blogged; ice-skating, party-throwing, beach-going, driving, preparing, reading, writing, playing, and probably a lot more. This weekend, for example will be a very busy one, but I will tell you about that as it comes. I don't really know what to write but will enclose a series of photographs that will explain my recent actions.
    And until next time, please do enjoy.(:

Brightness in a desolate space.

The beauty of naming your rival.

Ah, the simple things.

(x

It was just one of those exhausting days for no apparent reason.

I couldn't help it. :D

TEXAS!

Part of the banner I made for Brandon's surprise party.

I wish I took a photo of the cake...

My shadow whilst ice skating.

Last Sunday was a day of thinking.

I also have a new window.

 On an obvious note, Pokémon Yellow rules faces.

(:

Dreaming Reality

     Do you remember this post? It's called Skyscrapers have faults too. The reason I bring this up is because I finally got my 500 word descriptive essay back and I'm going to post it. I don't know how you will feel about it but I feel that it's very strong, I had forgotten how powerful it was. It might just be me though, ha ha. Well, here it goes. (By the by, the title is the blog post title.)




     The room was still and as cold as winter, just the way he liked it. "Bzzt, bzzt," the air conditioner whispered as our breaths brought in the room's only warmth. This little house of ours was laden with his favorite secnt: the thick smell of dust. As we sat opposite each other at the tall, bar style table, I watched him push up his superglue remedied glasses and sweep his freshly cut hair from his face with his pinky fingers.
     "Joey," I said as I reached across the table to grab his hands, "What happens next?" He frowned and turned towards Blue, the build-a-bear I made for him last Christmas, and muttered, "I don't know. I really don't know."
     Tears ran down his face slowly, but hit the floor like pelting hail on a metal rooftop. I jumped off my chair, walked over to his side, lifted his chin, slipped his glasses off, and wiped the wetness from his face. He looked at me and I whispered, "There's no crying in baseball." He chuckled as I pressed my lips against his forehead. I took a deep breath and thought to myself, "Mmmm, he still uses that Old Spice body wash that I like so much." Then, without any regard to the moment I was having, he grabbed my hands and exclaimed, "Marry me!"
     I frowned, pulled my hands away and looked over my left shoulder. "Why not?!" he demanded. I turned toward him and faked a smile as best I could. "I'm only seventeen, darling. And you, you're only nineteen. We have so much time to live before we have to end our adventure." I took a deep breath and exhaled. Hopefully he would understand; it was near impossible to get him to see any light besides the one he was holding. He allowed an audible 'hm' to escape his throat; God how I hated that 'hm,' that arrogant, pointless 'hm.'
     "Passíon," he began, with a slight air of superiority, "I'm not comfortable with the life that you're living over there. You have become someone else." My name sounded so vile coming out of his mouth. I gnashed my teeth and covered my ears; I was done listening to him tell me how to live. I glanced up at his impatient face and thought about how to respond.
     "Joey," I sighed, "how will this ever work? We've become two separate beings with two separate ideas on life and you refuse to hear a word I say. We need to communicate." He looked at me as though my last statement was a waste of breath. "Well we're here now..."
     I pushed the hair from his face and laid my head on his shoulder. I inhaled then sighed; his jacket smelt just like the rest of the house--dusty. "I know that we're here now, but," I paused, "I'm just a figment of your imagination." He started weeping again, his warm tears falling perfectly on my left shoulder. My eyes started to well up with saltwater as he said, "Well it's all we've got now, isn't it? I mean, now that the emotion is no longer existent." The air conditioner reached the point of automatic shutdown, leaving the completely silent with the exception of our heavy breathing. "It's time for us to wake up." I kissed his lips and mouthed the words 'I love you.' He stepped away from me and watched as my body became transparent, and finally, disappeared.

-December 3rd, 2010

So close

I tried to do the "right thing" but the teacher didn't let me take Part 2 from class. But as a consolation, enjoy these photographs:

 Candle & The Beautiful and Damned

 Kasey<3

 Dramatic.

 D Pad.

 A Button

Gameboy^TM



All photographs were taken by me, Miss Passíon Neftali Leon, please use them with permission.
(:

Should Han Solo get the girl?

     Soon, I will make my way out of this classroom and do the right thing. My plan, you ask? Well you see that my plan is to expose Part 2 to the truth that she already knows. My hope is that she will find the courage to leave this time, unlike Saturday night--on the other side of an angry, sad, pleading, desperate, deciving phone call.
     "No one ever believes me," Part 1 said as I opened up my closet.
     "Hm," I thought to myself, "no one believes a liar."

     Though I still have some hope for Part 1. For reasons unbeknownst to me, I still have faith in Part 1. Just as Luke Skywalker held the hope that beyond Darth Vader's mask was the body and soul of his father--Anakin Skywalker. I see the good in Part 1 and that is the good that I'm praying will come out after all this goes down. I hope that Part 2 will believe the words that I say, I hope that she won't dismiss them and run to Part 1, crying about the troubles I have presented her with. I want her to feel the sincerity of my words because I don't know her; Part 2 is pretty much just another person to me. But at least I will know that in my heart I have tried to do the right thing even if I haven't succeeded.
     I'm pretty much pleading the Gods of Part 2's mind to allow her to understand that if it wasn't true I would not make the strenous effort, time, and conscience it has taken me to finally do this. This plan has been creeping around my head for such a long while... three months at the least. I'm thrilled to do this because I knew a note would not be enough but on the same token, I'm not ready to break the heart of this girl I hardly know.
     Oddly enough, I wonder if this can lead to a friendship--or not. Most likely it will lead to an extreme hate because the truth hurts. And what is typical of any relationship is that when the lady finds out that the man was cheating, the person with whom he cheated is automatically the whore, slut, homewrecker, bitch, life-ruiner, etc. The cheating male can do no wrong as his lady, or hopefully fomer-to-be, loves him too much. He'll cast that line as long as he knows it'll hook her.
    It may be true that "love makes no record of wrongs" but people do. Love is not invincible, immune, or resistant to the tolls of life and our humanities. Sometimes it's best to let go, I really think that it's time for Part 2 to let go, for her sake. I'm afraid for Part 1 though... the way he cried in my closet, the way he pleaded, the look on his face was just dasterdly... I don't want him to go back to his old ways of self-inflicting violence and such things but I'm tired of him dragging everyone down on his mission to be cool, to be an asshole.

Princess Leia: "I love you..."

Han Solo: "I know."

 

Maybe sealing Han Solo away at the end of Episode V was a good idea.