I'm having a conversation with Sirose on the bbs if anyone would like to join in...
+21:57:14+ (Esoris) Nope, ain't working >=[]
+21:57:27+ (Spooky) I love that emoticon.
+21:57:34+ (Spooky) I wish to marry it.
+21:57:41+ (Esoris) Bleh.
+21:57:48+ (Esoris) Go ahead
Did I forget to mention I was temperamental?
+21:14:17+ *** Sirose has joined #pacman
+21:14:30+ (Sirose) DAMN COMPUTER!
+21:14:59+ (Spooky) DAMN COMPUTER!
+21:15:11+ (Sirose) I need the link again
+21:15:17+ (Spooky) I'm not giving it.
+21:15:21+ (Spooky) BWAHAHAHAHAHAhahahaaaaa!
+21:15:24+ (Spooky) Okay-- "I like to visit playgrounds to watch the children jump and run and yell. They didn't know I was only shooting blanks."
+21:15:26+ (Spooky) Woops. Wrong thing.
+21:15:31+ (Spooky) I thought it was on my clipboard. Guess not.
+21:15:32+ (Spooky) Ahaha.
I was walking across a bridge one day, and I saw a man standing on the edge, about to jump off. So I ran over and said "Stop! Don't do it!" "Why shouldn't I?" he said. I said, "Well, there's so much to live for!" He said, "Like what?" I said, "Well...are you religious or atheist?" He said, "Religious." I said, "Me too! Are you christian or buddhist?" He said, "Christian." I said, "Me too! Are you catholic or protestant?" He said, "Protestant." I said, "Me too! Are you episcopalian or baptist?" He said, "Baptist!" I said, "Wow! Me too! Are you baptist church of god or baptist church of the lord?" He said, "Baptist church of god!" I said, "Me too! Are you original baptist church of god, or are you reformed baptist church of god?" He said, "Reformed baptist church of god!" I said, "Me too! Are you reformed baptist church of god, reformation of 1879, or reformed baptist church of god, reformation of 1915?" He said, "Reformed baptist church of god, reformation of 1915!" I said, "Die, heretic scum", and pushed him off.

I love Emo Phillips.
+17:01:58+ (Matthias) ... The guy with the weird hair is the one who made Invader Zim, right?
+17:02:02+ (Spooky) Yeah.
+17:02:08+ (Matthias) You girls are WEIRD.
+17:02:18+ (Spooky) Thanks.
+17:02:30+ (Matthias) 'twasn't a compliment.
+17:02:34+ (Spooky) I know.
+17:02:40+ (Matthias) Alrighty.
It's just wonderful how I found two Jhonen Vasquez-related quizzes last night. I didn't have time to take them because of my father's early arrival. I put them in favorites hoping to take them today, but one was hosted on the infamous geocities. I then learn that I could not view that particular quiz today, because geoshitties is going through some maintenance. So for who anyone who actually reads this thing, you cannot view my artwork or any other thing that's hosted on geocities until tuesday.

But I did manage to take the other quiz.

Which "Johnny The Homicidal Maniac" by Jhonen Vasquez character are you?

"You are Nny (Johnny)! So anti-social! You seem to have a problem coping with your anger, and you really like revenge." It's so true. Not only am I anti-social, I'm bitter, cynical, sensitive, quiet, insecure, paranoid, detached, slightly schizophrenic, and a whole other load of attractive qualities. I've also threatened to kill my father, so I suppose I'm homicidal as well. I never have really killed anyone, though.

Moby is playing on Saturday Night Live tonight, which I can't wait to watch as I sew my Family Consumer Science project together. His journal entry for today was interesting.

Last night, as I sat in bed drawing another picture (which cannot be shown right now, hosted on geocities.) I was watching some nice, late night television. Conan o' Brien is one of my favorites, especially Triumph, insult comic dog. Triumph went to a Star Wars: Episode II opening in New York, where many hardcore fans stood, dressed as their favorite characters. I, personally, am a huge fan of Star Wars, but not that fanatic.

The act was pretty funny, though. There was this one man dressed as Gandalf from Lord of the Rings. He and some jedi-type person "battled" it out. A young girl was dressed as Leia or some other female character, which Triumph asked "Which parent made you do this?" The mother raised her hand. There was a pregnant woman sitting with her husband, whom Triumph had to bother. "So bringing a new nerd into the world?" "Yup. It's a boy." "That's the last time he's ever going to see female genitalia." My favorite part, I think, was the Darth Vader guy with his startrooper minion. Triumph asked the Vader impersonator what the buttons on his chest were for. Vader called Triumph a hot dog, saying he would like great with some mustard. Triumph rebuked, "What are you, Korean?"

After Conan, there was some late Friday night comedy show. My favorite of them was Emo Phillips. I forgot almost all of the jokes he said, but they were brilliant. One quote I remember from something else, though, was: "I like to visit playgrounds to watch the children jump and run and yell. They didn't know I was only shooting blanks."


I'm sure each and every female out there has experienced harassment before, despite their physical features or personality.

A vivid experience I remember happened in sixth grade. I'm still young and naive and all that bullshit, so this event is considerably recent.

At my old school, I took the bus. I absolutely hated it. No one on the bus was a friend of mine. The only way to avoid getting made fun of was to stay quiet, which I did. I usually took an empty seat and stared out the window, hoping none of those strangers would decide to sit with me.

The bus' population included populars, clique-leaders, jocks, bullies, whores, snobs, and all the like. One of the whores included a girl who stayed back a year; she was my babysitter in second grade. She once attempted to vacuum my hair, while her mother talked away on the phone. One other specific was a boy who was popular for his 'yo mama' jokes, rap-song singing, and other various forms of entertainment. He was black, but it's no matter.

Naturally, it was Friday; the two-day liberation from the cruelties of school awaited us. I was sitting, as usual, by myself and staring out the window. I was probably planning on running home and hopping onto the 'puter the moment I was dropped off.

There was an awkward silence, as I remember. But before I could care about it, seventh grade yo-mama-joke-boy had crawled over the back of my seat, grabbed my head, cupped my mouth with a hand, and kissed me. Yeah, I screamed.

I'm not sure if he actually kissed me, because I don't remember any feeling of him kissing me. If he really did, then that would have been my ...first kiss. I assumed, afterwards, that he kissed the hand that was on my mouth, making it look, to viewers, that he actually slipped me some tongue.

When he finally let go of me, I followed after him. Yeah, I tried to slap him. Missed.

I sat back down in my seat, humiliated, everyone laughing. I laughed along with them, feeling my stomach churn. A girl across from my seat said, "You okay? *giggle* That was really funny! You were all like..*impersonation of me struggling* ..and stuff!"

It was probably a dare anyway.

When I moved onto seventh grade, the kid who kissed me was now in eigth, and he was in the school play. I, too, was in it, mainly because my father wanted me to be an actress or something like that. I was a chorus member (the worst part possible) and the kid was the scarecrow. The play was "The Wiz" (not the wizard of oz, this is the one with Michael Jackson as the scarecrow.) A close friend of mine was the good witch; she worked with the scarecrow a lot.

So naturally, my friend and the kiss-the-poor-sixth-grader guy became good friends. That made me just a little uncomfortable.

But no time for a sensible conlusion, however. The murmur sounds.
I've added a bbs. It's a substitute for a guestbook and a re-blogger sort of thing. If there's any intelligent lifeform out there, feel free to talk to me using the bbs.

It was my friend's birthday today, the friend that introduced me to Jhonen Vasquez. I drew her a picture. If the link doesn't work, just refresh or go to art & writing > 2002 > mmf.JPG. Geocities has a crappy no-outside linking policy and I can't afford space off some money-hungry host service.

The shirt that the tan-skinned child is wearing (me) is an actual shirt (that I rarely wear). The symbol in the lower left hand corner is a new signature I'll be using for my art; it's an N on top of another N, my initials. I had a lot of fun sketching the picture. I just hope she enjoys bound & gagged comic book artists as much as I do.

If you'd like to sell yourself, you may as well go here. I'm not worth much, considering my height and certain illnesses that run in the family. I'm about $1,682,000.00. I've always lived in a rented home, so I could sell myself for a nice house perhaps. Nothing much though.


Well, an old friend of mine from the chatroom, who also played EverQuest, took some screenshots with the new graphics of his character and mine. Look here for vixenne.jpg and vixandglurk.jpg. Glurk's a troll.
And into the eyes of a jackyl, I say ka-boom.

I changed my desktop paper. It got boring. Now it's Pumpkinerific. Yeah. I like them, the Smashing Pumpkins. I like their music. A lot.

I haven't played EverQuest in a while. It's this game, supposedly really addictive. Parents want warning labels on the package. "Warning: This game will rot your kid's brain with the addictive power of a million cigarettes." Sure, sure. And I've got a level 34 Dark Elf Wizard on the Quellious server, to fill any querying minds. The screenshot is pretty bad, sorry. Recently, I've only been playing on Tuesday night guild raids.

And yet another artist to add to my list, Bob Smith. Beware, site is not for sensitive Christians. His art is a minor part of the site (it's on the left, way down) but I still like it. Visit the site, but only if you're completely sure you're not going to heaven.
Fate loves me.
It threw me in a hole and let me starve for days. Then it reconsidered and threw down a ladder.
It hit me on the head, but I got out of my hole.

I managed to cheat fate about five times in a row. I'm getting quite good at it. I promised myself I wouldn't bitch about the woes of my life here, but it's just amazing how I survived. I never really did that french project assigned months ago, due monday of this week. Never called the group I was supposed to do it with. Lied about getting the wrong number. Was absent monday on purpose. Missed french class tuesday and wednesday because of the state testing, which I purposely let myself work slowly on to get into the make-up period for those who didn't finish the test yet. My group presented the project without me. I told the teacher I couldn't contact my group. She said I can make my own project for monday. Aha. Ahahaha. Ahahaaaaaaaaa.

I've changed the pre-made blogger layout and added a link to some art stuff. I haven't drawn in a long time, I really should start doing it again. It seems to be the only thing I'm somewhat good at. I'm actually capable of creating a breath-taking design for this website, but I chose not to. Not because I am too lazy or am without will, but because I do not want to please you, the reader. And I'm sitting here waiting for an automatic response from ezboard about my bbs-in-process. Robots are so slow.

Among the artists I adore, there's another who I particularly like. He's simply known as Sam. His art is also simple, but beautiful. He takes messages that are sent to him via e-mail and interprets them into the most beautifully drawn stick-figures I've ever seen. I've attempted sending a few phrases to him before, I think the e-post office may have sent it to the wrong address...

I've been awfully bored lately. Nothing to do but read comics and play games. I'm bitter right now, having lost my friends and all. I still sit in the room, waiting, but no one arrives. I haven't even played EverQuest in a week. No, I'm not geek material. I'm not even cool enough for that. I never was, but I wanted to be. I wanted to be everything.


"This place is like, uber creepy." I love Shaggy.

I wished I lived in California. A dear, talented and neurotic friend of mine created a wonderful re-enactment of her and I stalking Jhonen Vasquez in San Jose. I live on the opposite end of the country, so it's all just good fun. Good fun.

I asked my mother what she would say if I told her I was bisexual. I'm not, really. She is completely and utterly against that sort of thing. "If God wanted that to happen, then there would be two Adams and two Eves." I retorted, "God doesn't exist, Mom." It usually ends the conversation. I doubt she actually minds that I'm atheist. Though she sometimes asks things as though we'd been talking about it all through dinner. "But I mean, how come we're here? If God didn't exist, then how how did everything come to be? The Big Bang just isn't enough evidence..." She'll ask me these things out of the blue. I just shrug.


I found Moby's on-line diary today. He seems down-to-Earth enough. If there's something that every fan of any famous person admires passionately, it's the genuine responses (to fanmail, etc.) and human-like qualities of their idol, if any. Fame probably makes celebrities bitter, I suppose; too busy to care or mingle with their fans. Some celebrities, though rare, might actually take time to write honest, indivisual messages to their fans. They usually have robots to do that job. But legend has it, Moby reads his website's message boards.

I stayed home from school today. Again. I refused to do a project for french, especially when it was due the day the state-wide testing began. The teachers are merciless labor-whores. I also went to the doctor for a physical and she doesn't know why my hair is falling out. I don't have leukemia. She said it may be a normal abnormality, though a bit contradicting. I'm not even past high school and I'm going bald.

The murmur sounds once again. Always, at the strike of eleven.