fuck shit. [entries|friends|calendar] Quinn. NAVIGATION: userinfo; friends; dates [ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ] [ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

[ 02 Mar 2008 | 12:32pm ] the lake ( Read more... ) (2) +

photoshop; [ 01 Mar 2008 | 9:48am ] it's what i do in school; ya dig? +

complex thoughts. [ 31 Jan 2008 | 3:44pm ] [ mood | Complex. ] [ music | Circa Survive. ] today i was sitting there thinking. and i just got some super complex thoughts, here they are. Alot of people today in their silly little stage of adolescence think their in love. I don't quite know what love is. Nor do I know if I've ever been in it, if I'll ever be in it, or if I'll ever be loved. Theres a major difference between loving someone and being in love with someone. Love is supposed to make you feel all different and amazing right? What if what your experiencing is just a tiny part of your awkward existence as an adolescent? If you think about it, adolescence really is an awkward stage. Your searching trying to find the true you. And who you want to be for the rest of your life. Your running around dating people trying to figure out just what is right for you. So everything you experience is a new, exhilarating feeling. So how is it you just know your in love? At your oddly enough stage of adolescence you have these hormones kicking, right? Lot's of young adults (as I will call them) think their in these great relationships, that are going to last forever. But the sad truth is the majority of those "wonderful" relationships are based on lust. Relationships while your at such a young tender age RARELY last a couple years, let alone lead to marriage, and a life together. Don't get me wrong, part of me is dreaming up at this very moment, me at around 30 years of age, newly wed to someone I've been with since high school. But the chances of that happening are slimmer than a strand of my hair. Relationships based on lust can only last so long. One gets bored with the other, they have nothing but sex in common, one (usually the girl) is sick of just sex all the time and wants to actually have an intellectual conversation with their partner. These are all just a few reasons the relationship would fail. But even so I believe love is a mind game, that you play with your heart. It's always surprising you. You think your in love, then wham, you realize you were kidding yourself. I'm not saying that it's not possible to be in love or that adolescence is the wrong time to find love. Because I in fact don't know. This is just a simple day, a simple girl, and a complex brain, with complex views, that might never make sense to her. Theres lot's of things my ever curious brain thinks up, it's constantly stirring with what ifs, whys, and hows. As a typical human brain would do. I don't understand alot of this world I live in or just why I was to be born in this specific era. With things like sexism, and why people honestly care about if gay people are married. marriage should be about love, not gender. So what if two people of the same gender get married, it's not your place to decide who falls in love with who, and if you don't like it then don't put yourself around it. Simple as that. [ that was the first entry ] Some people in this world are truly sick. Everyone else is just mildly insane. I don't believe people can truly be sane, nor can they be normal. Me being a female, does not understand completely the brain of a male. They often lead women/girls on, i understand hormones. Trust me, i do. No matter how hard women/girls try to hide it, their hormones are ragging, just as much, maybe even more than males. So that's not an excuse. Learn to control your hormones. If it's not acceptable when females do it then why is it so acceptable for males to do? It's just not fair to sit there and toy with someone else's feelings. I don't care what gender you are, it's just not. One minute your interested or so you say, the next you just throw that person out the window. It doesn't make sense. I do understand that you know people can turn out to be different people then you thought them to be, you know this that and the other. But I'm talking about the whole leading on thing. Nor does it make sense to me how someone could cheat. Obviously if you have the temptation you shouldn't be in the relationship anymore. It's simple enough to call someone up and tell them that you want to break up. Rather than to cheat, and create a bad reputation for yourself, and create more problems. People generally don't like to be toy-d with emotionally, right? Well then why would someone else take the time to toy with someone's emotions? Karma's coming, and she's never very nice. [ that was entry two ] that's all i feel like typing up for now, give me a few more hours and maybe I'll type up the other ones. (2) +

#@*& [ 26 Oct 2007 | 1:01pm ] [ mood | giddy ] Circa Survive tonight. saosin was amazing last weekend. i'm glad we have this long weekend. it's nice. my grandma called me out about my lip infront of my mom, that's how mom found out. haha. she told me to take it out. i think she accepted that it's not coming out after i told her to go to hell. whatever bro. :) i'm excited for tonight. firestoneee here i come. +

[ 14 Oct 2006 | 10:36pm ] one word: steven! fuck jeremy and all that shit. glad ive kinda got steven right now. i wanna watch a skate video im babysitting at this kid devons house. you know livejournals blocked at school now? wtf? today was amazing. (2) +

[ 01 Oct 2006 | 3:59pm ] pictures are my life. ( Read more... ) wow (3) +

[ 28 Sep 2006 | 10:08am ] [ mood | angry ] [ music | cute is what we aim for- teasing to please ] EMPTY i dont think i have any freinds left. theyve all become like aquaintences. i hate it. i think im checking into the hospital on monday. i dont know yet. i dont know why i even had freinds in the first place. people seem to just want me for a while then just abbandon me. just like my dad wants to do. telling me i should make not seeing him legall. ugh. i need some cheering up but i dont think thats gonna happen. to tell you the truth i hate myself more and more with every day. i have no selfrespect anymore. ive been violated so much i think i just gave up. i wish i didnt need to get to where i need rehab. who fucking cuts themself anymore!? me thats who. fuck all the assholes out there who say thats only for emo kids. cause im one of the most upbeat cheery kids youll ever meet. but thats all a cover up for what lies beneath. the worst part is no one cares. like truely no one cares. people say they do but they dont. i think people would only come to my funeral for ike. if it wernt for that damn baby i would have no reason to be here. no one reads this shit so ill pour myself out here fuck all this shit seriously. ugh yeah well let me just jump out there with this while im at it since no one cares. im getting better at hidding these damn cuts. there no longer on my wrists even though no one noticed on my forearm a couple of days ago. and i was worried about that. but now no one will see them unless they see me in a baithing suit which isnt happening. fuck everything. (16) +

[ 27 Sep 2006 | 9:27am ] [ mood | bipolar. ] [ music | the academy is- the phrase that pays ] P E R F E C T thats how homecoming should be at least. guess who im going with!? BRANDI woot woot. todays my first real day with vinci hi-performance. i guess it doenst really count that much since its my grandfathers shop. but i dont get any slack im expected to meet high standards and have all my work done. i think im expected to do more cause i am his grandaughter. on a sadder note; i talked to my dad for the first time in a couple of days. its almost been a month since ive seen him. i asked him if we could go out to lunch on saturday just me and him. and he said hes going out of town, but hell call me when he gets back then this morning my moms like isnt it your dads weekend anyways which its not. but it turns out my moms going to tampa on friday and wont be back till sometime on saturday. and she doesnt want me home cuase no ones gonna be there. so i gotta find somewhere to stay. anyways alot of people are commenting on my outfit today. but whatever. ive worn these polka dot tights forever. and then this dinosour shirt i finally got back. anyways. i think no one reads/comments these since i write so much now. but i just have alot of time on my hands. im out. +

GRRR CHINA [ 21 Aug 2006 | 11:54am ] [ mood | appauled ] officials in Southwest China ordered the extermination of more than 50,000 dogs in late July after three people died from rabies. Among the animals slaughtered were up to 4,000 dogs who—despite being immunized against rabies—were dragged into the street and strangled or clubbed to death in front of their families. These awful deaths illustrate the Chinese government's insensitivity to animals as well as its complete lack of planning. There are humane ways to prevent rabies outbreaks. Yet China has rejected our offers to help implement procedures—including a simple four-point plan—that would avoid such cruel killings. China has no animal welfare laws whatsoever. That's why millions of dogs and cats are strangled with wire nooses and beaten to death every year so that their fur can be turned into trim and trinkets for American and European consumers. China is the world's largest supplier of animal skin and fur—and it doesn't draw the line when it comes to domestic animals and family pets. The following are ways that you can help dogs and cats in China right now: Contact the Chinese government and demand that it halt the further slaughter of dogs. Urge the Chinese government to enact a strict anti-cruelty law immediately. Don't let this massacre go unnoticed. Write a letter to the editor of your local newspaper or post the news on your favorite blog. Let the world know about China's recent and shocking mass murder of dogs and the need for a cruelty-to-animals law in the world's most populated country. Don't buy or wear fur. China supplies more than half of all finished fur garments that are imported into the United States. Because dog and cat fur is so deliberately mislabeled, the bottom line is that if you're buying fur, there's no way to tell whose skin you're wearing. And all animal lives are precious. Right now, China is listening to those who speak out for animals. After intense international pressure, the Chinese government has just halted its plan to give foreigners licenses to hunt wild and endangered animals. Adding your voice today to those demanding change in China could help millions of animals. (6) +

this is my hero. [ 16 Aug 2006 | 6:12pm ] [ mood | grateful ] TO WRITE LOVE ON HER ARMS. by jamie tworkowski Pedro the Lion is loud in the speakers, and the city waits just outside our open windows. She sits and sings, legs crossed in the passenger seat, her pretty voice hiding in the volume. Music is a safe place and Pedro is her favorite. It hits me that she won't see this skyline for several weeks, and we will be without her. I lean forward, knowing this will be written, and I ask what she'd say if her story had an audience. She smiles. "Tell them to look up. Tell them to remember the stars." I would rather write her a song, because songs don't wait to resolve, and because songs mean so much to her. Stories wait for endings, but songs are brave things bold enough to sing when all they know is darkness. These words, like most words, will be written next to midnight, between hurricane and harbor, as both claim to save her. Renee is 19. When I meet her, cocaine is fresh in her system. She hasn't slept in 36 hours and she won't for another 24. It is a familiar blur of coke, pot, pills and alcohol. She has agreed to meet us, to listen and to let us pray. We ask Renee to come with us, to leave this broken night. She says she'll go to rehab tomorrow, but she isn't ready now. It is too great a change. We pray and say goodbye and it is hard to leave without her. She has known such great pain; haunted dreams as a child, the near-constant presence of evil ever since. She has felt the touch of awful naked men, battled depression and addiction, and attempted suicide. Her arms remember razor blades, fifty scars that speak of self-inflicted wounds. Six hours after I meet her, she is feeling trapped, two groups of "friends" offering opposite ideas. Everyone is asleep. The sun is rising. She drinks long from a bottle of liquor, takes a razor blade from the table and locks herself in the bathroom. She cuts herself, using the blade to write "FUCK UP" large across her left forearm. The nurse at the treatment center finds the wound several hours later. The center has no detox, names her too great a risk, and does not accept her. For the next five days, she is ours to love. We become her hospital and the possibility of healing fills our living room with life. It is unspoken and there are only a few of us, but we will be her church, the body of Christ coming alive to meet her needs, to write love on her arms. She is full of contrast, more alive and closer to death than anyone I've known, like a Johnny Cash song or some theatre star. She owns attitude and humor beyond her 19 years, and when she tells me her story, she is humble and quiet and kind, shaped by the pain of a hundred lifetimes. I sit privileged but breaking as she shares. Her life has been so dark yet there is some soft hope in her words, and on consecutive evenings, I watch the prettiest girls in the room tell her that she's beautiful. I think it's God reminding her. I've never walked this road, but I decide that if we're going to run a five-day rehab, it is going to be the coolest in the country. It is going to be rock and roll. We start with the basics; lots of fun, too much Starbucks and way too many cigarettes. Thursday night she is in the balcony for Band Marino, Orlando's finest. They are indie-folk-fabulous, a movement disguised as a circus. She loves them and she smiles when I point out the A&R man from Atlantic Europe, in town from London just to catch this show. She is in good seats when the Magic beat the Sonics the next night, screaming like a lifelong fan with every Dwight Howard dunk. On the way home, we stop for more coffee and books, Blue Like Jazz and (Anne Lamott's) Travelling Mercies. On Saturday, the Taste of Chaos tour is in town and I'm not even sure we can get in, but doors do open and minutes after parking, we are on stage for Thrice, one of her favorite bands. She stands ten feet from the drummer, smiling constantly. It is a bright moment there in the music, as light and rain collide above the stage. It feels like healing. It is certainly hope. Sunday night is church and many gather after the service to pray for Renee, this her last night before entering rehab. Some are strangers but all are friends tonight. The prayers move from broken to bold, all encouraging. We're talking to God but I think as much, we're talking to her, telling her she's loved, saying she does not go alone. One among us knows her best. Ryan sits in the corner strumming an acoustic guitar, singing songs she's inspired. After church our house fills with friends, there for a few more moments before goodbye. Everyone has some gift for her, some note or hug or piece of encouragement. She pulls me aside and tells me she would like to give me something. I smile surprised, wondering what it could be. We walk through the crowded living room, to the garage and her stuff. She hands me her last razor blade, tells me it is the one she used to cut her arm and her last lines of cocaine five nights before. She's had it with her ever since, shares that tonight will be the hardest night and she shouldn't have it. I hold it carefully, thank her and know instantly that this moment, this gift, will stay with me. It hits me to wonder if this great feeling is what Christ knows when we surrender our broken hearts, when we trade death for life. As we arrive at the treatment center, she finishes: "The stars are always there but we miss them in the dirt and clouds. We miss them in the storms. Tell them to remember hope. We have hope." I have watched life come back to her, and it has been a privilege. When our time with her began, someone suggested shifts but that is the language of business. Love is something better. I have been challenged and changed, reminded that love is that simple answer to so many of our hardest questions. Don Miller says we're called to hold our hands against the wounds of a broken world, to stop the bleeding. I agree so greatly. We often ask God to show up. We pray prayers of rescue. Perhaps God would ask us to be that rescue, to be His body, to move for things that matter. He is not invisible when we come alive. I might be simple but more and more, I believe God works in love, speaks in love, is revealed in our love. I have seen that this week and honestly, it has been simple: Take a broken girl, treat her like a famous princess, give her the best seats in the house. Buy her coffee and cigarettes for the coming down, books and bathroom things for the days ahead. Tell her something true when all she's known are lies. Tell her God loves her. Tell her about forgiveness, the possibility of freedom, tell her she was made to dance in white dresses. All these things are true. We are only asked to love, to offer hope to the many hopeless. We don't get to choose all the endings, but we are asked to play the rescuers. We won't solve all mysteries and our hearts will certainly break in such a vulnerable life, but it is the best way. We were made to be lovers bold in broken places, pouring ourselves out again and again until we're called home. I have learned so much in one week with one brave girl. She is alive now, in the patience and safety of rehab, covered in marks of madness but choosing to believe that God makes things new, that He meant hope and healing in the stars. She would ask you to remember. (6) +

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