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Mar 14 - 11:09 pm]

Um. [

Dec 10 - 9:11 pm]
I changed that thing I put up before. 


Word-vomit therapy. [

Oct 11 - 3:43 am]
(You really don't have to read this. It is what it says: therapy! Yay.)

I wish I could make everyone see how good we are and how we eat with our keys in the dark in the woods on a rock a gazillion feet over the nearest ground when it's misty-raining and we're happy and smoosh our faces together and sleep and joke at inappropriate moments and look at clouds making art in the sky and talk about the future and talk about now and talk about the past and talk about EVERYTHING and talk about how great it is that we talk about everything and talk about each other and us and love each other every day with no breaks and no fading AND I wish everyone could know how I am not an idiot and I trust my own mind BECAUSE no one ever seems to realize I'm not just flying on whims and "being naive" all the time and all that meaningless psychobabble bullshit I get fed every day by every person except him, no one knows what they're talking about, no one has lived any life before this so how can you tell anyone how they feel or what to do in any situation that is not yours? -- BUT at the same time is not for them to know, thank GOD, he is for me, we are for each other (thenlaughleaningbackinmyarmsforlife'snotaparagraphanddeathithinkisnoparenthesis), you don't HAVE to know because it's MY life and MY decisions are MINE and I may only be an idiot teenager but I am a GODDAMN intelligent idiot teenager, I have the documents to prove it, and GOD, life is so short. Life is SO short. I am 18, round that up to 20, multiply by four if we're saying I'll live to be 80--I only have three more of what I've already done to go, WHAT AM I SITTING AROUND FOR, WHAT DO I HAVE TO LOSE, my life is GOING to be good. I know it. "In my heart." In my heart. Really. No quotations. I'll make it good. I'm a good person. I like myself. I see the good in things and I make people happy or try my damn hardest and I make myself happy. I will always. And maybe I AM simple. And maybe that's PERFECT for me. Maybe if everyone could just stop being afraid of how they feel and go with it, GO with a few whims, be a little naive, they'd end up in better places, everything might be a little less goddamn complicated, I like that. I like thinking maybe that's true. I like thinking there's a little ticker in my brain that knows exactly what it's up to and makes good things feel warm and nice and that just gives me my answers, right there. "Signs." There are always signs. We have so many. Right now everything points one way. Who am I to ignore the universe's advice?

And if I look back on this and think I was an idiot, well, at least I was an idiot. At least I was alive, and I experienced being an idiot. I was a lucky girl for just that. Thank god I could be alive and be an idiot.

Inventory of my life: Positivity. [

Sep 23 - 3:02 pm]
[ mood | good ]

It is fall. The weather is perfect. My absolute favorite kind.

I have new glasses.

Wearing them, I can see every leaf on every tree. Bright green and some yellows and oranges starting to arrive. Really fucking gorgeous against the blue blue sky.

I am in love. 

Someone is in love with me back.

My friends are the smartest, wittiest, most independent, creative bitches I could have ever hoped to find in this town. 

Music makes my heart explode. I find new things. I still love old things. Ben Folds and Regina Spektor can still make me cry, laugh, never get old, and even if they do, will be new again in a couple days. refuses to die.

Dancing feels better, physically and mentally. I enjoy it again. My achilles doesn't hurt so much. I have reasons to do it.

I can teach an hour-long class of adorable three year olds who would be content skipping in a circle and playing patty-cake for all they care, and make money just smiling and encouraging them to twirl and leap. 

With my teaching money, I can get a cute haircut. Fuck yeah.

My high school football team is kicking ass and taking names. It actually makes me happy for them. For my idiot school to have some success. School spirit is creeping up on me.

There's enough confusion and fear and chaos and negative-positive push-pull drama and bullshit to make me feel alive. If everything was good, how would I know how to appreciate it?


Press release on the life of Halez...? [

Aug 12 - 2:09 pm]
I wonder how many of my friends still check on LiveJournal. Only a few, I'm pretty sure. Which is good. Much better than Myspace, because I can feel less guilty going on about things. Like how much has changed in a few months. And how much has changed in a few weeks. And how the hell I've managed, without trying, to make someone...I don't even know, I can't even type it. I've had so many attempts (I stress "attempts," I am always trying so hard) and failures at....I can't even say relationships, because they didn't ever actually HAPPEN. I was just trying and trying so hard. And once, I finally gave in and just went along with something that wasn't ever right to begin with, and we all know how that turned out. Embarassing and disappointing.

And now, something has come along, and I wasn't even trying, in fact I was trying NOT to, and I don't know what on earth is going on, and I know I'm being vague as hell but it's partially because I can't even begin to describe how I feel about what's happening right now. It's's good. It's just very good. 

It's confusing to everyone except me. I'm pretty sure everyone is like, "What the hell?" And I understand. I'd be that way if I were them. But I am not confused. I am delightedly bewildered, but not confused. 

I know that people probably think of me as fairly silly and immature, maybe even incapable of making good decisions about this kind of thing. I'm just being realistic--they do. I've given them reason to think that way. So I wish I could convince them that this time, I know what I'm doing. 

You are confused. I am absolutely not.


May 22 - 2:33 am]
I'm not sure you people realize how cool I am.

Golden slumbers fill your eyes. Smiles await when you rise. [

May 20 - 10:00 pm]
[ mood | confused ]

My favorite kind of people are the people that, when you meet them, they are instantly your friend. Not in a fake over-doing-the-friendly-thing way, just in the way that you know they're cool with you and you don't have to worry about impressing them. You are their friend until proven otherwise, not the other way around. I hope I'm that kind of person. 

Seeing seniors leave is such a unique kind of sad. This year I've become friends with the nicest boy I've ever met, the nicest girl I've ever met, my most favorite Venezuelan of all time, and a various few other INSANELY cool and unique personalities. I'm going to miss them so much. I don't know how I'm going to be handling things this time next year. I'll be crying all day that Friday, I'm sure of it. Which is just great. Crying at school sucks big ones. 

I remember when things weren't a soap opera. That was nice. That was so nice.


A Conjunction of Drones Simulating the Way In Which Haley Makes an Entry Out Of an AIM Conversation [

May 17 - 1:27 am]
[ mood | thoughtful ]

Me: [Sufjan Stevens'] new CD isn't even about a state so that worries me, maybe I should wish for him to reach his goal of doing all 50 states.
Me: That should give me some nice karma.
Me: Wishing for the well-being of the careers of others.
Me: ...Maybe that wouldn't help his career.
Sagen: I feel like nobody can make 50 albums.
Me: I feel like that too. I feel like he should do Georgia, and then be like, you guys thought I was serious?
Me: He can have songs about...MLK...and...peaches...and courtroom shootings...and apartment fires...and cows.
Sagen: Oh! Ray Charles.
Me: Sherman's March.
Sagen: And us.
Me: Yes.
Me: Sagen. Ray Charles. Haley.
Sagen: But it will have a long, Sufjan-esque title?
Me: The song about us and Ray Charles?
Me: We could think of some.
Me: Canton, or, Round Of Applause for Haley and Sagen!
Sagen: Hahaha.
Me: Let's Hear Jump On It Again, Because I Don't Think They Heard It All the Way Out in Cumming.
Sagen: I really like these.
Me: It Is Mrs. Barth!! She Is Our Teacher!! She Has Come Back From The Dead!! Ahhhhh!


Blah blah blah, continued. [

May 13 - 11:47 pm]
And what I meant by that was, MY world isn't really exploding, no emo crap like that, it's just like the world in front of me is exploding, and I'm just standing here like "What the FUCK is going on?" Kind of like watching Poseidon. Things calm down for a second and you think they're about to be safe and then BOOM, everyone's dying and the WATER is on FIRE and a guy is LEAPING THROUGH THE FLAMES and I don't know WHAT'S happening. You know?

How is it possible that I feel more stressed out right now than I did earlier in the year when I was actually busy?

Will people get mad at me if I just start turning around and walking away from conversations on a regular basis?

Will they still be mad if I explain that it is for health reasons?

What if I get a note signed by my doctor?

What if I get a special bracelet that says "If this patient has been exposed to drama for more than 5 minutes and is convulsing or unconscious, please call this number and administer her medication?"

What would that medication BE? Ecstacy? Blood pressure medication? I don't even know. This metaphor should stop now.

My family actually does have a history of high blood pressure. I think that's a valid enough excuse to use for anything that is stressing me out. "PLEASE HUSH, YOU ARE CONTRIBUTING TO MY FUTURE HEART PROBLEMS, THANK YOU."


May 9 - 11:25 pm]
Why is the world EXPLODING in my face?

I wonder. [

May 8 - 1:01 am]
Does anyone check on or care about Livejournal anymore? I'm just wondering. I wasn't too sad when Myspace stole Xanga's thunder, 'cause Xanga was so damn annoying, but Livejournal isn't so bad.

Should I bother putting stuff here anymore? I mean, I kind of hate making blog entries on Myspace, because they seem a lot more...public. There. Except, it's the internet, so everything is VERY public, of course. I guess it's because on Myspace I friend everyone because it's the nice thing to do and then everyone in the whole world sees everything I write there and it's just kind of unnerving.

Responses? Anyone?

Also: I kinda forgot about Sondre Lerche for a while. Now I have rediscovered him and I do love him a lot.

Y'all almost got tears, you fuckers! [

May 4 - 7:59 pm]
Although the days of my fascination with all things Lord of the Rings have passed me--and rightfully so--I maintain that Elijah Wood is the sweetest, prettiest little man in all the world. I would like to hug him. And possibly pick him up and spin him around. 

Let me explain what brought this on: Elijah Wood gets Punk'd (YouTube). (I know some of you may be reluctant to click that because, well, it's Punk'd. But trust me on this one.)

"I need to call your parents, how old are you?" 

"I feel so helpless at the moment, sir."

Hahahahaha oh god. Poor little 'Lijah. So small, and so pretty, and so saddened by explosions.


Blah blah blah. [

May 1 - 5:52 pm]
Today was surprisingly pleasant, for an AP testing day. I woke up and got out of the house at a reasonable time, with some coffee and a lousy piece of toast kind of bumping around my tummy making me feel a little ill. But I sat down to that test, I said, "Mister Test, you're not so tough. I can handle you." And I did. At least, I'm fairly sure I did. There were only a few minor points that threw me, like the fact that the second essay prompt consisted of THREE SENTENCES. The second of which being the longest run-on sentence in the history of the written word.

I'm going to be optimistic and place my bet on a four. I'll be delighted to get a four. Four is my lucky number, dontcha know. That, and eight. Maybe I'll get an EIGHT. Now THAT would be cool. They'll just look at and say "This girl is so outstandingly awesome, we need to double this score, straightaway. Marty, make it happen."

It helped, I found, to:
1. Put myself in a calm, relaxed state of mind, starting the night BEFORE the test.
2. Make sure there's a NICE song stuck in my head to provide comfort in moments of distress.
3. Use my free time after the multiple choice questions to give myself a mental pep talk for my essays.
4. Drink some coffee and have a good, not nervous attitude. Say hi to folks and give some high fives.

When the big nasty loud AP-student-filled bus arrived back at school, I decided it would be in my best interests to leave. I called the madre, and I said "I'm gonna check out, 'kay?" She said, "'Kay." I said, "'Kay bye." She said, "'Kay bye." Aaron and I had a nice Wendy's lunch with lots of laughs at the expense of toddlers and Coach Fore, and then we went BACK to school to chat with Miss Dee-Dee. We parked in the bus lot and knocked on her window until she finally yanked open the blinds and said, "You guuuuuys! What are you doing!! ...Oh, just go around. Come on." I love love love Mrs. Dryden.

Now I'm going to have my picture taken in a red Spanish tutu, a short and sassy dance dress (red again), and a sporty hot pink mesh top with white cargo capris. In other words, I run up to my bathroom and try real hard not to look like shit. I dislike dance pictures. So much. Aghaghaghaghagh.

And I’m caught inside a dream world where the colors are too intense. [

Apr 27 - 12:27 am]
My throat is sore and I am hot. I think AP tests are making me ill. But I had a bit of a revelation tonight--of course it was about something that I don't really need to start thinking about for another few months. I think I know what I'll do for this oh-so-ominous senior project. My idea might POSSIBLY be a very huge and stupid undertaking. Not in the sense of being on a really grand scale or anything, just something that will take me AGES, and that I might not even do that well. Oh gosh. I hope it works, because I'm kind of...dare I say, lest Sagen murder me...EXCITED about it. It might be...again, dare I say...FUN. I hope so, at least. Meh. I'll talk to Miss Dee-Dee about it.

I decided tonight to read Ella Enchanted--my favorite book of all time, pretty much. Before you judge me, let me just say that while I didn't see the movie, I can just TELL they ruined it. Even if it was somehow a good movie, it couldn't have done this book justice. It is just, honest-to-goodness, a really really fantastic book for that whole 9-13 age range. Or, you know, 17. Who's counting. It's creative and funny and sad and smart, not condescending; I don't think kids' books should be condescending. They need to have words that you don't know, and things you don't understand, and things that will make you think. There's some depth that you don't see in your typical, you know, Little Susie Lou Finds a Magic Trunk in Her Attic and Travels to a Magical World of Ballet and Friendship.

...Although it is very sweet and magical when she ends up with Prince Charmont (get it, har har) in the end, I'm not gonna lie.

Anyway, it made me feel very warm and fuzzy to read it. I'm easily amused and childish. Sue me. Fairy tales are just good like that.

P.S. After a visit with Mary, the best ice cream wench the world has ever seen, I went to the Woodstock Coffee House to grab an application, and had a little EXTREMELY NERDY moment of excitment thinking about how it's just like the INTERNET CARTOON that I READ DAILY, Questionable Content, and how I'm going to be a sassy barista just like Faye. And oh, the things I could do with that blackboard. *nerd dance*


Sometimes I put on green whiskers, and on those occasions, they call me "El Diablo." [

Apr 18 - 11:42 pm]
We saw The Glass Menagerie at the Shakespeare Tavern today and I'm not sure why I was the only person there who loved it instead of either completely hating it or being like eh, it was okay. Perhaps I am crazy. It made me very sad in a few different ways. Maybe that's just not other peoples' idea of fun.

If that sounded snotty, I didn't mean for it to. It was sincere. I don't just never ceases to absolutely fascinate me. Even if it's high school and the actors aren't that great or whatever. I am always drawn in. Plus, I am such a sucker for tragic shit. If it makes me cry I'll probably love it.

But ugh ugh ugh, I Sparknoted it, and they keep saying all this different stuff indicates Tom's "incestuous desire" for Laura. Aggghhhh I don't think I can deal with that, if that's what it's meant to be. And maybe it was just this particular group's interpretation but I didn't see that AT ALL.

Bangs? [

Apr 17 - 11:21 pm]
Who wants to weigh in on the thought of me with bangs? Swooshy side bangs (which I had during the summer and liked), straight across bangs (not totally straight across, more like the girl from Giant Drag, that band Myspace has been shoving down your throat for a few days), whatever.

Ugh. I almost want to dye my hair the color it already is, just so it'll have some kind of texture to it. Healthy hair is for loo-zars. I just want some cool messy layers but it always ends up just straight and STRAIGHT and straight and flat. I would like to look more like a nasty dirty rock star plz. Thanx.

Of course I can't actually get my hurr did until June, but it's good to think about these things. It's especially good to think about them when you should be studying Jeffersonian...shit.


Fre-e-e-e-eaky. [

Apr 16 - 3:43 pm]
Do you know that we will be seniors in like, a month? And I'll be 18 in like 4 months. I don't think I want to be. I think I may elect to remain 17 for a few years. But I won't stay a junior. Juniorism sucks a lot. But when I'm 18 I think I'll go buy cigarettes and hand them out to hobos and try not to get arrested like Willy Mason but if I did get arrested that might be neat too. That's what happened to Willy Mason and then I could say I'd been in jail. Only I can't play any hippie songs on the guitar for the inmates like Willy Mason so it might just be boring and cold.

I wonder who--certain people in particular--really cares about any of this crap I say. It's a matter that concerns me right now. Don't ask or wonder what I'm talking about because I can't tell you because it makes me feel too bad.

I just hope this next month and a half goes really really fast and not too disastrously, and then I hope someone hires me to be a Woodstock coffee wench. I'll be the friendliest coffee wench there ever was and I'll wake up early and work hard and I'll be caffeinated and happy and well-paid all summer. These are my plans and they are not subject to change so deal with it bitches. (Bitches = school, tests, parents, coffee place owners, rest of world.)


Apr 6 - 11:23 pm]


I'm gonna go to Babylon and get me some whiskey now. [

Apr 3 - 4:14 pm]
I always think I've heard the craziest Regina Spektor song there is, and ALWAYS proves me wrong. Case in point: Pavlov's Daughter. Oh my GOD, woman.

(Psst. If you click on that you can download the crazy lady's song. Three cheers for YouSendIt.)

Okay. Time to continue with the closet and drawer cleaning. Or maybe eat some PB&J. Or maybe do some more lame Myspace surveys. Or maybe do anything but clean out my closet and drawers.



Mar 26 - 1:39 pm]
I accidentally didn't wake up until like now and have like 40 things to do today and that's not even including my research paper which was actually due this past Monday.

Meh. Be kind to me Mrs. Dryden. Please.

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