Monday, April 27, 2009

Raindrops keep fallin' on my head

And just like the guy whose feet are too big for his bed

Nothin' seems to fit

Those raindrops are fallin' on my head,

they keep fallin'

So I just did me some talkin' to the sun

And I said I didn't like the way he got things done

Sleepin' on the job

Those raindrops are fallin' on my head,

they keep fallin'

But there's one thing I know

The blues they send to meet me won't defeat me

It won't be long till happiness steps up to greet me

Raindrops keep fallin' on my head

But that doesn't mean my eyes will soon be turnin' red

Cryin's not for me

'Cause I'm never gonna stop the rain by complainin'

Because I'm free

Nothin's worryin' me

It won't be long till happiness steps up to greet me

So I just did me some talking to the sun

And I said I didn't like the way he got things done

B the way, I need to let you know that I don't write any of the lyrics I provide on this blog. If you want to see poems and lyrics that I write, go to my other blog:

Once On This Island Shots

These are some shots of the musical I am in.

To the left, you will see Ti Moune, torn. She must leave her loving parents (who are in the back) and look for Daniel, who lives on the other side of the island, whom she loves. Towards the bottom, you will see Papa Ge, the sly demon of death; he has come to collect Daniel's soul.

Heh. This ugly person is me. I am telling Daniel that he cannot love Ti Moune.

This is Daniel's fiance, Andrea. This is one reason why Daniel is a jerk.

It's a great play. When ever you can, look it up.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

To-Do Lists

Today, I got up thinking........ thinking about what to do. I needed to get my essay done (which is due tomorrow), be prepared for an (embarrassing) oral presentation, and get ready for a performance (that I am not ready for). Then, when I realized what I was doing, I scoffed.

I looked at myself for a minute and acknowledged how stupid I was being. Why was I looking at short term, one-hour worries? I need to get ready for so much. I am making a list of things to do.

My To-do List
  1. Become a better person, inside and out
  2. (Truthfully) Compliment three people every day
  3. Learn to listen to my conscience
  4. Listen to God's prayers and messages that have been sent to me
  5. Encourage people
  6. Let others know what I think
  7. Jump over brick walls, hurdles and other obstacles that stand in my way
  8. Learn to know when be silent and just listen
  9. To control my feelings
  10. Lead a life of my own, with the Holy Spirit's help

Saturday, April 25, 2009

The Song He Sang........

525,600 minutes, 525,000 moments so dear. 525,600 minutes -
how do you measure, measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee.
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.
In 525,600 minutes - how do you measure a year in the life?
How about love? How about love? How about love?
Measure in love. Seasons of love.
525,600 minutes! 525,000 journeys to plan. 525,600 minutes -
how can you measure the life of a woman or man?
In truths that she learned, or in times that he cried.
In bridges he burned, or the way that she died.
It’s time now to sing out, tho the story never ends let's celebrate remember a year in the life of friends.
Remember the love! Remember the love! Remember the love!
Measure in love. Seasons of love! Seasons of love~

If only he knew what he sang just then.

~How can you measure the life of a women or man?
In truths that she learned, or in times that he cried.
In bridges he burned, or the way that she died.


I have had one hell of a day. I don't know how to fit it all on here. I'm going to try though.....

........Let's see; how did the morning start? Oh yes. I woke up to my mom talking to someone. In my fuzzy state of mind, I listened for a while. I was completely awake by the time I heard my name. Mom was in my room trying to wake me up. She kept on talking and I grunted a bit. Mom set some coffee down on my file cabinet and went out of the room.

I drank my coffee and went outside of my liar. Who was I to behold but my twenty-four year old brother who currently lives thirty-five minutes away from us........ I remembered later that he spent the night here after going to a friend's party. After I put my contacts on, he was gone.

Mom and Dad came home later. When they did, they found me asleep again on the couch while watching CMT. Mom gently woke me up (Screaming to dad in another room.) and I pleasantly awoke. I found some food and went with mom to run errands.

Mom and I have "errands" once in a while. We go to garage sales and cruise around just to enjoy life. We parked in somebodies yard, thinking that we might be at the right place. I eyeballed a bright red sports car and kept walking. As mom and I are peering at the house, we saw a man in a crisp white sneer at us. Mom and I laughed and kept walking until we got to the right place, with a two minute detour to stare at three small dogs who seemed to be staring at us too.

Later, we went to get sand for my gecko and I had to go to theatre. Nothing much happened at the first performance. My best friend (that I call Memo) was skeptical about something but I decided not to ask her. She would tell me when she was ready.

I was right. She told me. Memo thought that this guy was giving her mixed signals (To back this up a bit, Memo's been having some problems. She's beautiful as it is, and she has a great personality. Any guy who wouldn't like her would be crazy. Memo likes two guys though. One guy who I like, who we shall call Quincy, and another, that we shall call Malvolio. Malvolio is two years older than her and has known her for about a year. Quincy is 6-12 months younger and has known her for the same amount of time. Also, you should know that it is obvious that Quincy likes her. I know for sure that Malvolio is a her good friend.) and she didn't know what to do. I hugged her. I didn't know what to say.

During the second performance, Memo asked him. She told me with great enthusiasm that when she asked, "Hey...... Do you like me?'' he had said yes. She told me what he said vaguely while in a trance. While she was talking, I kept on praying that Quincy would be alright.

Now, I can't do anything about it. I can't ask Memo if she sure that Malvolio knew what she was talking about. If Malvolio actually loves her. I can't do anything about Quincy, because he doesn't even trust me. I mean, he knows he can come to me to fix a prop.

I don't know. I don't know what to do. Why does this have to be so hard? Why can't Quincy be a friend? A friend, at least? Why do I have to love him even when he doesn't love me?

I guess some would say I'm too young to feel like this. Well, I feel it whether I am young or whether I am old.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009



I have decided to share my life.

See it from your eyes and feel it from your own shoes, your own feet.

My name is Voice. I am thirteen years old. I am kind of scared about putting my age on here but I know that you must know of where I am from.

To start it off, let me tell you about school, where you will always find me at this point in my life. I go to a christain middle school and I am in the eighth grade. I am an outcast. The other kids hate me. I am called names all the time. They tease me, calling me "too religous." To them I am a freak.

I practically live two different worlds. I am also an actress at my local theatre. I am among my friends and I joke around. You can most likely see me in my favorite costume: a frog hat, a cape with midnight blue lining and a toy machine gun that makes peculiar noises when you pull its trigger.

The truth is that I am scared. I am scared of being unoriginal. Of not being individual. I know, however, that I am in a big majority of people that feel the same way. And that scares me too. Maybe I need to get a life. Maybe I need to start my life. Either way, I am typing to you from my blog because I am scared. I am scared of being crowded and I am scared of being alone.

If you don't want to read this, then don't. I have no need for anyone to read this. I have a need of venting my feelings and learning more about myself. I have a need for an eternally sharpened pencil, a perpetually long ink for my pen and an everlasting sheet of paper to write. I call this need a computer.