My love is vengeance that's never free.

We struggle against the pain, the hate, against the ebb and flow of madness which envelops us at every step. We push on against the flood of negativity.. resisting the urge to let go as our hearts and minds become weakened, battered mercilessly by the waves crashing down.. resisting the urge to victimize ourselves, to take the easy way out, to surrender what little truth and beauty we hold dear. 
Tonight I mourn the loss of those with whom I once walked, whose hand I clutched as we together stood strong against the tides, until I watched them become weak, overcome by hatred and pain, and then slip away... Here I stand, in the wake of the fragments of beauty abandoned, and wish dearly to touch your face once more. 

His shadowed eyes descended upon her, scrutinizing her cold, pale face. Sauntering toward her, he jeered.
"When did life lose the magic?"
Solemn eyes blinked, distant, as if coming out of deep thought, then focused on him, taking in his sarcastic smirk. A ghost of a smile, a remnant perhaps of another time, touched her own lips, then vanished.
"Life didn't lose the magic. We're just looking in the wrong place."

When you measure time in centuries, not days, the slow procession of each moment becomes unbearable.

Time and again.. life has cut through my confidence and challenged me with lessons of temperance and patience. Neither of these qualities suit me at all, and yet, here I stand once again, bearing their weight against the unrelenting tides of my volatile nature. 
Consumed with doubt, I allowed myself to believe the worst, and in the process, I nearly committed the very crime I feared. As a friend recently told me, we're smart enough to convince ourselves of anything, no matter how incorrect it might be. I stand humbled once again. 
And.. it's so easy to forget how much others rely on you, when you're busy dealing with your own problems. We don't even realize it, but the fabric of life for the people close to us has become inextricably interwoven with our own. The severing of one thread can unravel that fabric in ways we can't begin to imagine. So much more may depend on you than you realize. And once again, my compulsive desire for self-destruction is tempered only by my love of witnessing growth and beauty and strength in those whom I hold dear. 

Hello scrublings! Since I'm halfway through my first semester of French, that automatically makes me an expert. Tired of being an english muffin? Well, today you're getting french-fried!

Learn to Speak French in 5 Minutes

Just follow these few easy steps to start your journey to frenchiness!

1. "Alors"

Don't ask what it means. It doesn't matter. Just say it often, anywhere in a sentence. Preferably multiple times.
"Alors" is pronounced ah-lore. (Don't forget to gargle your "r"! It's the french thing to do.)

2. "D'Accord"

Pronounced similar to "decor," it literally means "in agreement," or the frenchie equivalent to "okay." Should also be used often. Combined with "alors," you have just made your first french sentence. Congratulations!

3. Liason everything


"Liason" is french for "slur your words together." You should do it with every single word.
To use a proper liason, the last sound in a word is combined with the first sound in the next word. Thus, "it is" is now pronounced "ih-teez." Practice it out loud with the following sentence!
"Alors, French is the coolest language, d'accord."
If you said:
"AlorsFrenchisthecoolestlanguagedaccord"
très bien! You are now extremely french.

Stay tuned for Lesson 2, and keep eating those snail pancakes!

Swirling, dancing, utterly carefree, I am but a leaf caught in the wind.. catching one dream, then the next, carried high, soaring gracefully.. with the sky around me, sharing company with the moon and stars, I worry myself not with the cold, hard ground below. Still clinging to the warmth of summer, I worry myself not with the approach of winter's chill. For as long as I ride the winds of dreams, I may soar forever..

As per request, and since I had such an awesome time, I wanted to tell the story of my concert on Monday :)
When Chantell first introduced me to the artist, Emilie Autumn, I was excited.. but since the only videos we could find were bad Youtube clips probably taken at concerts with people's cell phones, I wasn't prepared at all for how incredibly good the show would be. The whole thing is done performance-style, quite charmingly, with a rather dark and gothic twist.
Just to give you a taste of what I'm talking about, here's a clip of one of the performances they do at every show. One very lucky female member of the audience is brought on stage to play the "Rat Game," to be deflowered by Naughty Veronica...



Sadly, Chantell and I weren't picked. We'll have to find other excuses for "cheating" on our boyfriends with another girl. (Oh, that won't be too hard, we've done it once already. Sorry Christophe and Andrew!) <3
The story behind the show is that it's set in the 1800's, and Emilie Autumn runs an insane asylum for wayward Victorian girls (her performers)..... so the songs are performed like circus acts with a dark, deranged twist, complete with dancing with flaming hula-hoops, over-the-top costumes, and... whatever you'd like to classify this as.....



During another song, they performed a "teatime" by pouring themselves cups of tea and taking bites out of cookies and cupcakes, then throwing it all at the crowd.. both the tea, and the half-eaten sweets. Delightful.
Definitely an experience, thank you Chantell <3

I made the mistake of eating a banana while walking to class. 
Random jerk: "Oh yeah, that's my dream girl right there."
Uh huh. Keep dreaming. 
I have to wonder though.. Did he even look at what I was doing to that poor banana? I was tearing off sections with my teeth, then chewing them to a state of utter pulverization. How is it sexy at all? If I was a guy, I'd cringe every time I saw a girl eating a banana. Just sayin'.

As I pick myself up from the pavement, the taste of dirt and blood fresh on my tongue, I laugh bitterly, and a grim smile takes my lips. I realize that I'll never be good enough. Ever. I can give myself wholly, selflessly, until there is nothing left but a cold, empty shell, and I still won't be good enough. I can work until exhaustion and sickness take me, and my youth and vitality slip away, devoured by the monster within, growing, spreading death and decay, and I still won't be good enough. I can love truly, endlessly, until the thieves and liars prey upon my heart and divide it up like lions at the slaughter, and I still won't be good enough.

The nightmares will never stop, because I will never feel safe again.