My Dad says he won't pay for my school no more.

Which is fine, I feel better now knowing it's for sure.

I'll have to look for another apartment - letting this 740 one go.

Although it stemmed from anger, I don't care. It's easier just to not have him wager on my school when I'm there. Complete severance is what I aim to establish.

600, is about the lowest I've seen.

I still don't want to live with any one.

I told him what buttons to push - I told him I was insecure about him and his trust.

I'm the only kid out of the six he's hit. I don't know if I'm the only one who doesn't care enough to not yell back. But he doesn't want to put up with me, even in my own worst possible times. I wager so much of my happiness on my parents' interactions to me. I tell them how to act, and I try to make sure I act fine. After slip ups, I'll apologize - but sometimes I don't care enough about anything to apologize. Or to shut the words up coming out of my mouth.

I just watched Trainspotting and then the yelling started. I was feeling bad, and bitter. But no one asked "how are you?" all it was was "What's wrong with you."

A statement, rather an inquiry. For my birthday, no one asked how I was. Even the night before, none. Last night was the only time, from a text.

I want to leave this place.

Perseverance.

Before I didn't understand the definition of this word, perseverance; little did I know that once having it defined, it would stick to my soul like fire onto wood.

Today, I have the belief, that I as a chill and cool person, was chill and cool to some newly introduced people tonight. This one guy, Dylan, was incapable to accept me. Sure, you can't make a friendship in a day at times, but surely you can't make an enemy either. Nearing the end of the night, he ended up dissing my tattoo, and my stretchers. He ended up dissing the things which I had identified myself without defense. It was unexpected, and sort of uncalled for, but I am unable to warrant his own behavior. Surely, he must have had his own intuitions about me, of which I was unaware.

I decided it was my time to walk on home. It would've taken one hour and fifteen minutes, consolidating in my head, what went wrong; friends were with me though. Kind and sensitive the pair of them - definitively beneficial. At least my voice in the end was heard to the people most willing to hear it.

I was not out of line. I slightly became defensive, as he was starting to degrade my appearance, by assuming his own pychological history, of course, he was in encore to this - encouraging his friends to support his 'bring it on' attitude. In the end I said, "you're fine". I needn't do anything more. I went to the people which I intentionally was there to see, and bid them farewell, I would be going.

Saying goodbye to them, I as well bid farewell to Dylan, and his fellow friends. "Dylan, even though we couldn't make ends meet, it was nice to have met you."

I understand I have a craziness inside, but I damn near well deserving of applause was above him - in my own recount.

So me and this couple, Raine & Adam, walked along home - more than half way they kept me company. Of course they must be home now, with the little bit I left with them inside, which supports my actions, and defends me - as they walk in and must see Dylan, in the night, and then in the morning - knowing that he ... did the wrong, essentially.

It calms me, and gives me a little bit of practice, to know that not everyone in this world must agree with me. Hell, I mightn't even be right in this world- but at least in my own universe, I am self-justified.

I ran home, the remaining 3 kilometres- tossing my remaining pack of cigarrettes in some bush. Maybe some one will pick it up in the morning, and smoke them themselves - as I once had with a pack of cigarettes.

One of the things, I am most proud of, is myself. Perseverance, is quite a beautiful meaning. To overcome, to not surrender, to establish yourself over an immeasurable amount of obstacles. I am 20 today, a little bit in a long life I wish to serve.

Perseverance, I hope to inspire anyone to attempt at succeeding their own life's pre-mental-determinations. To defeat any emotional boundaries, and to maybe, share it with others.

Damn I'm good. And at least I might think I am. After all,

I will always be with myself in this life.

I will always be here with myself, in this life.

Might as well do it right.

Thanks,

Kim

Childrens' Book Celebration

John Butler - Peaches and Cream

"Although there are a lot of bad things as well, there are a lot of good things in the world."

Yesterday, I ended up spilling Acetone (Nail Polish Remover) over my Beowulf Children's Book project, and had a near break down. Three beers in, feeling pressured as it was currently 2 weeks + late. I had to work in the morning, I hadn't had enough sleep, laundry is piled atop my bed. I am sleeping on the floor (which I don't mind, but the blankets are dirty). My room is dirty. In my book, not only do I have countless smudge marks, and bleed outs and blobs, but now I have this giant acetone mark. It keeps on looking shittier and shittier the more I touch it.

It seemed.

I decided that I didn't need to put it into a hardback cover to hand it in. That counts in one more night, which is actually one more week because it's night school. So I just handed it in, I finished 6 illustration pages today. Four of them I really do like, the others I am 'meh' for. Leaving to go to school, I ended up nudging the ink bottle, which in turn made a giant splash ON TO MY BLUE WALL! Fuck. So I guess I'll acetone that sometime. I don't think the longer it stays in it stains... hopefully not at least. Hmm.

I guess twice a week I'll commit 3 hours to searching and sending emails out for apartments and whatnot. It doesn't matter which days, just as long as they're there. I'll book them in now.

Although the book was late and tired looking, it was still pretty amazing. More than what any other kid in the class did at least; in the subjective eye of the marking teacher - makes a difference for me.

"Kim, did you draw these?" Zeni asked.

"Yeah, but some are from the internet. Like when he's fighting Grendel's mom." I don't think she heard the last bit, or cared. But I did find some of the images on the internet. I would feel unrighteous saying "Yep, those came straight outta ma mind!" However, I'm glad I've handed it in. Now it is time to work on one of our last projects, it's a group one, so I must be adherent of our time dates. (I'm writing a blog instead of drawing up some things, hah) But change doesn't happen over night!

I'll put the backing onto the book later, and add in the remaining bits of gold detail - then give it to Jess & Jeff & Jayson. Even though Jayson can't even sit up without help, I know he'll appreciate it with his aquarius mind.

Now to apartment search!

I decided that I didn't need to put it into a hardback cover to hand it in. That counts in one more night, which is actually one more week because it's night school. So I just handed it in, I finished 6 illustration pages today. Four of them I really do like, the others I am 'meh' for. Leaving to go to school, I ended up nudging the ink bottle, which in turn made a giant splash ON TO MY BLUE WALL! Fuck. So I guess I'll acetone that sometime. I don't think the longer it stays in it stains... hopefully not at least. Hmm.

I guess twice a week I'll commit 3 hours to searching and sending emails out for apartments and whatnot. It doesn't matter which days, just as long as they're there. I'll book them in now.

What is this? A start to a day?

Today I bathed, and did the hair, tried to learn how to self-french braid le cheveux. But then...meeting Warren at 3, getting nervous, haven't been spending much needed time on the book, so I do, complete with 3 beers. Have to leave in 1 hour. But found this site, how to start a day:

http://www.areobe.com/journal/2010/9/26/dont-start-the-day-until-you-start-yourself.html

Get up, focus on breathing.

Get up, then read, a physical book (one which I guess you'd like to be reading) for half an hour to one full.

Get up, write, on physical papers.

The trouble is, what I tend to write, if it's bad, and it's on paper, then it'll be long and dragging, so full of emotion and reality I'll keep it. but if it's good. Then it'll be like, two words: "You're good" you know. Something without explaination, because, why tempt to explain why you're good. Well, I guess that's the more positive side to it. I guess...

If it were to be a bad thing which I would write, I'd.. burn it, or something. Acknowledge, but not keep.

Anyways...back to my Rickards White. : F

I just want to remember this class, and how the teacher accepted anything I did. Made me feel welcome and at least, go.

Suppose to write about how I am a write Tob e clear though, to make obvious, this is written with knowledge of an audience. It shall be yread. May, this is not wrritten for you. This is not a time for mind wander, but for absorption. I was thinking of writing how am I not.

... so shall I ...

U WRITE?

No. I paint. No. I draw. No. I speak. No. I think. No. I act. No. I know.

Writing is rather another tool on my belt that I may use for the means of the outward absorption of my inner being. (notice the absence of voice) Another way to bent.

*I believe that voice is symbolic towards your being. Though, since it is mocked literally, it is absorbed literally, then you start to hear a literal voice in your head; since there is an apparent voice you hear, you must understand that it speaks only your thoughts.

The voice that is actually your being, cannot be heard. It does not make a sound for you to listen to. It just be's. It just is. Because it is you. Your identity. Your voice is censored. Because you control it. And when you control your voice, you control yourself, it is not yourself, but rather what you may represent. So lives expression.

So this is just another method for me to express different shit. To those in society, as well as my social-self, if there may be one.

No, I do not write. I express.

Thank you for reading.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

We all have a social facade that we mask ourselves with.

Though this said mask that we wear does differ in thickness.

And when we let it become thick because of our own self.

May be come lost in it's shallow depths.

We're lost in ourselves.

Who are we? Who am I?

Am I the Walrus?

With writing, the inpression you make with the ink from your pen with the words that you play.

it stays. A lasting impression.

Though implaced there by improvisational words, do they still give people's premiere impressions.

Yes, impressions are made, butt'is distasteful to be impressed by someone; to judge them at first sights.

Recall, that to adjust to a bright light, from our closed eyes, we must blink.

So how many times do you have to blind, to any light that may shine to you;

Absorb all light because it's only task is to light up any dark corners of your mind.

You should read these now and at the end. To see what your impression shall be then, "does it all make sense now?"

To doubt others is to doubt yourself. So be genuine & Strong.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Are you only a writer if you write works? Or is it not about the vocabulary, and only the thought. So is it are you thinker? Or are you a practitioner of Oxford's dictionary?

something i'll need to read over and redo, because I have no idea what I mean here..

Ohh, it's that school again, I have to go there again. Am I freasher then yesterday? Or just silled.

Hey. So I can't find any thing.

INCAPABLE

I can usually see what's wrong, and then fix it.

That's how a person learning to draw, hein? Comme, on peut decourvert une solutione. Lorsque on desseine, il devait une solutions Lorse on dessein, il ddevait un meilleure, dissin, dange temps...

Hey, I was looking at the sky

as all beasts do

and what I looked this time, all I aw was you.

Imagine someones attempt, mimick this beaty,

but it would always be one step a head.

Your stoke records its path.

Predicting his future.

All of your future, you see within her.

No matter how fast I paint,

beauty's always one step ahead.

Descriptive assignment

I could sleep. Forever.

Lost grains of sand in the wind, my mind could be gone. Ic ould let it free.

If you love it set it free right? Well this mind is cherished.

But I kill it. I killed it so I could sleep.

I set it free, and then killed it. It was a demon

A nasty devil.

Even though atheist eyes, I am capable of seeing the Hell that is around me.

...it fucks me up.

Phones are beeping, and there's no operator.

There is no operator in my mind. Per presently. Nor will there ever be.

I know this...

the only thing I know

Empty thoughts fill my hollow mind.

Once drowning myself in shallow waters,

My attempts to fill these empty thoughts with depth,

I am caving in,

My mind is starting to cave in.

Collapse

Maybe sleep would be nice.

Put my heavy thoughts to rest, and to settle those that

I've rattled

In my dreams.

I will free myself.

I will love myself.

I will know myself.

Come, let's bathe together.

Fucking sknk.

Found a notebook with THE RAVEN in it.. and so..

In english class, Will is sleeping,

Watching Hamlet, and his grieving

Then more, fall down tired,

Fall down by their own acquired

Drowsy eyes blinking slowly breathing retreated never snoring,

Yells him "Tell me more!"

Then look at my drawing, imagine it speaking

Interrupted, student walking, into class, late as before

The drawing protests, "black as I am", look once more in its face,

Stops it now, Will arises, drugged as never before.

Regards Hamlet, this "Tell me more!"

Some head are up, more are down,

Tilted, learning, reading, writing, avoid Hamlet's onward whining

I hear a voice, calling me, demanding it is

It speak "Tell me more!"

His name is not, that in our language,

Unspoken and with feeling. He overwhelms me, my heart is pounding. Anxiety rising, sweating, frantic

I cannot withstand this longer more

My thoughts are spinning, entangled on a web

Each relating, a strand will break, and yet I will

Still be here tomorr', not the same as once before.

It will not call "Tell me more!"

No one hears me, me I am calling! Out for reach, they ignore.

Self protecting is their priority, not me, this minority

I have to stop, continue onwards into this,

deep explore

Recycling Day

Renewal, I went through about 20 pounds of paper which I've kept. Most of them from school, english class, and doodles. And then journals. Here are some that I just wanted to keep cyberly.

I ne'er was struck before that house

With Love so sudden and so sweet

Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower

And stole away my heart complete

My face turned pale, a deadly pale

My legs refused to walk away,

And when she looked what could I ail

My life and all seemed to turn to clay

And then my blood rushed to my face

And took my eyesight quite away

The trees and bushes round the place

Seemed midnight at nooday

I could not see a thing,

Words from my eyes did start.

They spoke as chords do the string,

And blood burnt round my heart

Are flower's the winter's choice

Is love's bed always snow

Sh seemed to hear my silent voice

Not love appeals to know

I never saw so sweet a face

As that I stood before

My heart has lift it's dewelling place

And can return no more

( I don't know what this is, or even if it's plagarized... I'll look for that later.. but now I can toss this paper.)