Well, Guess what. Somehow, somewhere there is my whole store of journal entries. I don't know wether it is a good thing or a bad thing, but, it exists no more. Oh, well... Life goes on, I guess. But I do wish they were still there. Like to go back and see my feelings written down. Something of comfort there. Or see where I messed up. That could be a nice thing also. But we shall let this be the first entry of a new journal. Another typo on kelley's part!
June 23, 2001
Well, today started as a usual drab day...woke up, actually preceeded to move, and got up! A great plus for me! Attempted to shower and look decent but that never worked. as Jory could tell you, because of his early arrival to my house to teach me the ins and outs of audiogalaxy. Well, seemingly you need the program to do anything. I feel exceptionally stupid at this moment... hehe. We then flitted off to the mural to take pictures of our wonderful work! Somehow, I think it will come in handy when we have more painting jobs. heheheehehe!
July 5, 2001
Well, I have another journal entry. This isn't going to be a journal really... I like to remember things in my own mind than having people read them like a book... makes me feel somewhat caged up.. Looked at like an animal.. "ooooooooh! Look what the "rebellious" teenager is thinking today! Is this a subtle sign of mid teen depression or drug addiction.. hrm.." Maybe parents and judgemental people can go kiss their own asses.. I find them too much of a bother sometimes. No sensitivity to siblings whatso ever.. Oh, sorry you feel that way, maybe you can talk to them tomorrow when everything has gone to pot! woo-hoo..... *thinks for awhile* I think That this is going to be a collection of kelley rants and anonymous poems that she feels like writting. I guess it is good to keep in touch with your own feelings even though I am controdicting my own desicion I made at the beginning of this entry thing. I have a few poems of a "friend" that are nice (unfortunately bring baad memories to me... but are beautiful non-the-less) and some happy ones at that.. If I get too into this, this page will cease to exist. hehe.
I honestly don't know if this is influenced by Jory or not...this starting my writting again! *not a bad thing jory! good thing!* I just think I am too giddy at times, I refuse to get down to earth and actually care like i usually do. I have changed. It is odd. cause everyone doesn't notice, but i do. I have become well spoken and outspoken. but I have less of a mind than I usually do. It is odd... I think I need a good dose of shannon and some hyper intellegence in my life.. Not that I don't love everyone here too!
"I leave you with one not of thanks,
Something good came from the wrong,
I found myself,
don't ask where that one came from, cause you won't get an answer, but I can say, that life is happier with friends. I have realized that.. be happpy people! Love you all! and I have an open ear jory.. Don't be afraid of going to far with that!
til next time I feel like writting!
July 10/11th. It's midnight for god's sake!
Well, so much for journal entry crap. I agree with a certain someone that they can get too personal, like my previous ones that unfortunately/fortunately sank into nothingness and are now gone.. beats me how it happened.. well, Here is a story I wrote about 5 months ago. Mr. Bryan thinks I am a "great" writer.. bull shit! oh well, it was fun writting it! maybe later, I will put up my lovely "authority" essay...*grins*
I step through the small hollow you could call a door. Why did this have to happen to me, I ask myself. The worst part of town and my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend leaves me here to go screw up some blonde. Great.
Walking down the cold stone steps, I can hear the sound of water dripping down the walls. The shaking of an oncoming train makes the grimy railings I am holding shake violently. A man to my right is sleeping, or at least seems to be sleeping. Couldn’t he find a better place to do that? I drop a 5-dollar bill at his feet and it lands on his worn leather boots. The laces are barely hanging on there and you can see the dinginess of this place clinging onto the surface of everything he was wearing. He raises a drunken head and gave me a nasty smile. I can see old whiskey and food in his teeth and clinging to around his mouth. He nods his head in thanks and resumes his drunken dreams.
I raise my eyes from the sight to suddenly be confronted with old, mildewed poster and signs of circus’ and businesses come and gone. I walk slowly, examining the posters, barely able to make out what they say. I stop in front of one slightly colorful one. Not colorful to the point of vibrant, but definitely more that the rest of the others. I squint in the dim light and reach for a corner that is departing from the nail that stuck it there. Suddenly a light from behind me flickers. I turn and watch as a spark flickers out from a floor fuse box. Walking only a few steps on the hard floor, a fat rat runs out from the corner. I let out a slight scream, jumping back about a foot.
I breathe a deep breath and close my eyes. It is okay. Man, I have to be less jumpy. I start walking toward the entryway of the subway. The dank walls and muggy air suddenly seem to deteriorate into an open space of nothingness. The entry is of old wood and metal. The gates seem to be swaying but that could be my imagination. I step through the entry, and am struck by a sudden lift in the humidity. The air seems light and I almost fell from the sudden floating sensation. Regaining my balance, I stare around the hollow that is supposed to be Fresco South Station.
Finding myself a bench, I sat down cautiously. As I lowered my bag to the softwood, I heard it creak. Not a creak, but a low moan. Such as an old grandpa would when he finally found a place to sit. By the thought, I was unusually comforted. That is, until I sat down. Now, that was a creak. I thought the whole bench was coming out from under me! It shivered under my weight and finally settled down against the back wall support. I lay my coat down next to me to wait for whatever train that was coming next. Anything was better than staying here.
A saxophonist was playing in the corner across from me. Looking up, I am awestruck from the sound that is coming from that area. It is like no music I have heard. It sounds like Beethoven’s Rhapsody, but do not wish to interrupt him to ask. I cock my head a little to observe the scene.
I don’t know; he is slightly in his 20-30 years but I can not tell because of the long hair and old rugged cowboy hat over his eyes. His hands are gloved in worn leather or suede finger gloves. His petite hands move gracefully around the keys of his instrument. Oh, what kind of sax was it… Tenor saxophone. If only I stuck with it in high school. I was good, but I lost interest. My one dream was to do the kind of stuff this guy does. Doesn’t sound like much, but I would have been happy. Not in the slums of Cisco and boyfriend-less.
I hear a few voices coming from the hallway I came from. I turn my head in that direction just in time to see a pack of about 4 well dressed men come strutting in. They looked as about out of place as I felt. The strange thing was that they were all wearing tuxedo coats, but only their boxers? Some of them had a frustrated look over their red faces. The others had a pissed off annoyed look. It was one funny sight. Then it hit me. Must have been a bus raid by the local gang. Comforting thought. Here I am alone with refugees of raid, and they have to be active today. Great.
The frustrated group stopped suddenly in the center of the platform. Took one look at me and quickly converted their eyes to the sax player. I silently laughed. It was the look of embarrassment. The one a young boy would get when the older boys would lock him out of the locker room in his underwear. Except, one of them looked back. Courageous, I thought. He smiled one of the most beautiful smiles I have seen in such a long time. It was one that was shy, yet confident. My light thoughts turned cold once I realized it was the exact smile I used to get from my boyfriend. I broke eye contact and contented myself with the zipper of my backpack.
A sound of oncoming wind rushed through the tunnel and a light above the location indicated the subway train’s stop. The rattling continued and my bench started to vibrate. The group of guys started toward the entrance to the tunnel and the saxophonist sat down to rest his legs. I got up and walked over to where the men were to wait for the train.
There was a long screech as the train halted in front of where I was standing. An intercom voice came up warning us about the gap between train and platform. The door of the train was a dull color of white. Or at least the parts that weren’t covered with spray-paint. Sometimes, people can be very creative with their vandalism. Maybe these guys should have tried harder.
The door opened with a startling “swoosh” and there was a moment of silence. I walked up to the door and stepped in. Of course “minding the gap” as it was pounded into my head. The sudden bright lights made me squint. I groped for a seat and plopped down.
As my eyes adjusted, I could make out only a few more people on the train. There was, of course, the de-pants guys of the moment in the back corner trying to hide from anyone else on the bus. A very large man sat in front of me. He smelled of incense and pot. Born again hippie. I laughed when I saw the tie-dye headband. Oh, my. Well, what did I expect?
An old lady sat in the very front seat knitting. She looked like the regular Grannies you just want to go up and kiss because they are so cute. Her baby blue floral dress stood out from the gray scheme of this place. Her eyes were so kind. She looked up and smiled. One of those smiles like she knew exactly what you were upset about and that everything was going to be okay. I smiled back and relaxed into my chair as the train began to move forward. I sighed and was glad I was going home.
Well, once again, I leave this obviously boring drawl to the mundane life I call home! *woopie, woopie, woopie!* Hopefully I didn't ramble too long!