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don't blink against the dust
(2001-05-09) 6:41 p.m.

My rooms smells of fuschia garden. Rose perfume. Vanilla extract. Jasmine spray. You get the idea. On every hot day, all the scented candles in my rooms melts to form this mixture to create this special scent. And it's strong too. Everytime I pass my room, I'd get a strong dose of the smell. I'm not saying that it's bad. It's just... well, strong.

And why would I have all these candles in the first place? I collect candles. Those scented one of course are especially my favorite. Imagine when it's dark and you light it up. It's heavenly. No, I don't practice any black magic or anything. I'm sort of a witch, but not in that way ;) Besides, most of the candles came from presents of Christmas, New Year's, birthdays.. any holiday you can think of from my friends. It's just easier that way.. candles are the ultimate accessory. I like those new spongey type candles. They smell of tropical fruits..yum.

I was actually busy yesterday. Not that I was ever fakily busy.. sometimes I just don't want to do some things. Sometimes, I'm too lazy. But yesterday was not the case. I was actually excited to work on my poetry. I was actually doing work.. working on the illustration for my "I Am" poem for nearly two hours. Can you believe it? Me, doing actual work?

Well, yes.

And I still ended up sleeping past midnight. Don't ask how my system works, but that's how it is. I started finding a poem at around 4pm, and since then, I haven't stopped working. Okay, so I was interrupted several times on AIM, but that's all! I chose that poem I loved last year, "I am Nobody, Who are you?" by Emily Dickinson. Turns out someone else read her poem today in literature too. Emily Dickinson is great though. She has terse poetry that performs complete thoughts.

Anyway. I chose to read my "Remembering" poem. I don't like it. I don't like it. I don't like it. I don't like it. I don't know why I don't like it. I just don't. I used my method of "refrain" and repeated words. I only chose to read it because it's easier to explain than my other ones. My friend suggested for me to read "If only" because she loved that one, but that one was really hard to explain. I had forgotten what I was thinking at that moment. And the words I used where only chosen for that time being. I had forgotten why I chose them. Since I wrote "Remembering" on Friday, the thoughts remained fresh on my brain.

I didn't really know what to say, so I found myself making up a bunch of bs. Seriously. I have nothing to say about my poetry. I just write it. The words come to my mind, and I just write it. Sometimes, I'd change some words to make the poem flow, but that's it. But then I looked at it, and then realized there really was more. Maybe my subconscious automatically arranged my poem this way. I had to analyzed my OWN poetry. I mean, I WROTE it, and yet I have to question what I was thinking. So I saw that every "remembered" moment was in the day, and yet every "not remembered" moment was at night. I felt like I needed a justification for the ending, so I just added that I put "smiling" at the last sentence because even though my life is of smiles and tears, I still always come out smiling in the end. How CORNY.

But as I turned my poetry packet in, the teacher gave me a little secretive smile and said that she liked my poem. I hope that's a good thing. I was blushing throughout the thing. I don't know why I was so embarassed.. but I just felt like I've bared my entire soul... by JUST reading a piece of poetry written by me. My own hands. My own thoughts. Me. I think that my voice was cracking. I couldn't pronounce words correctly. I remember that my tongue tripped over the word, "monotonously". It'd be ironic if my voice really WAS in a monotone. But that's okay. I got through reading it.

Even with everyone in dead silence, with eyes bulging out of their heads. Gosh. What's so wrong with this setting? I don't even think that I heard anyone even breathe. It's bothering me. I just gave them all an embarassed look and left my stand. I wouldn't know what to do anyway. I was the SECOND person to go. I don't remember what I was thinking exactly. I only remembered what I thought AFTERwards. That's all. And that was what I had been so excited for. It's over. It's over..

I avoided eye contact. I don't even want to face anyone afterwards. But everyone's doing the same thing. Why not? But how come I feel that only I have bared my soul.. shared EVERYTHING..? I felt uncomfortable. But maybe no one was listening, so that's okay. Here's the breakdown. Two or three people did prejudice poems, several did human emotions, one did personal grief, others did something related to themselves or people in general. Yes. I'd fall in that last category too. Since I narrated the poem.. in first person using, "I". I think those kind of poems are more powerful than if it's in third person.

I knew it was going to be a strange day. Today was Wednesday, which normally means that I'd get more sleep than any other day of the week since school starts at 9:15am. Well, I didn't. I slept at past midnight yesterday, and my sleep was interrupted by a natural phenomenon. I won't get into that, but I was grumpy and all. And my skin had ruptured into tiny little red pelts and I was annoyed. I think it's going to dissolve my skin soon. But I didn't feel that horrible since it was a sunny day and it had already been beginning to get warm.

La.

I will stop this pitying thing.

It's not comfortably warm like yesterday.. I think it's cooled down a bit. Still. It's not HOT enough to be summerish hot. But it's still hot. I hate my brother. He's taken a huge fan for himself. He's not sharing, leaving me dying in the heat. I think you can tell how much the heat has affected my head.

I'm not lying about the heat, I swear. I usually would whine about little things like how I lost my French book (hey, that's actually a pretty big thing..) but this time, I'm not lying. We're all just dying here. Maybe because we haven't gotten accustomed to this heat yet since we haven't had this heat wave in such a long time. You can even ask the people who live near me. People at my school. That'd be, this, this, this and this. There is more, but you get the idea. I wish I knew more people at my school thats interested in this web design thing. It seems like I'm so alone in my own category..

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