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Lurking in . . .
"From the darkness, sleeping light." Formerly luminus dormiens. Lux pacis, light of peace.
Quote: "Sometimes I think the surest sign that intelligent life exists elsewhere in the universe is that none of it has tried to contact us." --Bill Watterson, cartoonist, Calvin and Hobbes
Yay, the Harry Potter's fifth book in the series came yesterday! If you don't have it, buy Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix today! I'm so exited and devouring the pages. Yesterday, I spent all day with my parents at the Alameda County Fair. There was this one pendant I really wanted that I thought'd look cool on me, but in compliance with my nature, I did not buy it. As you can tell, I have a too-high self-doubt. My mother was not helping, saying that it could make me look like a gangster, or that it will turn black because the metal is not of good quality and oxidizes very easily. Very well, then.
Part 2 of 3
Of course, the drive past the damned gay street into Beverly Hill took only five minutes, not an hour or a whole day. The problem is that the biochemistry of my body does not decompose the adrenaline, the flush of chemicals that make me want to run, very quickly. So the effect of that passage lingered all day. Not until two nights of sleep would we truly be flushed of that disgusting feeling of slithering slime and green, gritty goo. My darkest hour. Someday, I'll look upon these passages and laughed at my own insecurity, but not now, not now. Now, I must hide and find comfort strange online.
It was the most depressing street I ever watched my mom drive through. I wanted to be alone, to avert my eyes from my mother's and spend the day alone. I must not expose her again, it is too much for me and her. I am not strong enough and don't think that I have some secret and hidden pool of bravery that I'll inadvertently summon up to ravage against her. The fact is made, what's done's done, however unintentionally.
I need someone to read through this most personal and private parts of me. I need a boy to hug who knows and understands me. I have not felt so alone.
H. Sapiens is so complicated, full of complex emotions and fervent imagination that I don't know how we managed to survive where other hominids didn't.
Right now, I feel so lackluster in profanities. I have no anger in me through which I must cuss, dirty my mouth with vile words from my too vile thoughts, and explode and litter these pages with things for which my soul is probably already burning in hell.
I believe in souls because of the restless mass of unnameable emotions, imagery, and words within me that I cannot seem to define.
Now that I have confessed all these offenses that I have made, let us move on to a less depressing parts: Disneyland, Universal Studios, and Hollywood.
We spent an entire day at Disneyland, starting around 10 and staying until midnight, at which time they supposedly closed. We rode on many boat tour rides, introducing us to the many houses, animals, and other things that were in Disney movies. We rode on some mildly thrilling rides, such as Indiana Jones and Pirates of the Caribbean. I am a moderately sensitive person who cannot handle roller coasters or rides in which I must go down any more than 2 feet very fast. Of course, it wasn't until very recently that I learned to scream and flail my arms and legs to alleviate my anxiety about falling down very fast. I know the rides are safe, but I could never handle gravity's force.
To Be Concluded
A Preview of Part 3 of 3: The time I spent in L.A. was delightful. Sometimes I wish I could have stayed longer, especially since we received a parking ticket for 35 dollars. That parking enforcement official should puke horseshit. The powers that be in Los Angeles that decide that 30 minutes should be the time limit for parking should stick some goat's poops up their noses.