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PsychoGrl
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Name: Psycho
Country: United States
State: California
Gender: Female
Interests: it really depends... some may not even consider hobby.. so yea.. n e way.. i like making things, reading, drawing, listenin to music, searchin for love stories online.... haha yes i kno i'm really bored.... and i guess that's it.. cause i dun even kno my own hobby.. hehe
Expertise: blah.. i wouldn't know...
Occupation: Student
Industry: Other
Message: message me
Website: visit my website
AIM:  pureheart1o7
Yahoo:  draggy1o7
Member Since:
4/27/2003
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| Your Five Variable Love Profile |  Propensity for Monogamy:
Your propensity for monogamy is medium.
In general, you prefer to have only one love interest.
But it's hard for you to stay devoted for too long!
There's too much eye candy to keep you from wandering.
Experience Level:
Your experience level is high.
You've loved, lost, and loved again.
You have had a wide range of love experiences.
And when the real thing comes along, you know it!
Dominance:
Your dominance is low.
This doesn't mean you're a doormat, just balanced.
You know a relationship is not about getting your way.
And you love to give your sweetie a lot of freedom.
Cynicism:
Your cynicism is medium.
You'd like to believe in true and everlasting love...
But you've definitely been burned enough to know better.
You're still an optimist, but you also are a realist.
Independence:
Your independence is low.
This doesn't mean you're dependent in relationships.
It does mean that you don't have any problem sharing your life.
In your opinion, the best part of being in love is being together. |
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| i am not sure if this is true for everybody but have you guys notice that when you hit college... who do we turn to with our problems? do we turn to the same friends that help us throughout our high school years or do we simply make new friends and they become our new listener? i mean in high school, you probably have a bunch of friends that you can just share your thoughts to since you probably have teh same classes or known each other for a very long time. now that college hits, what do we do? people have problems and regardless if it is a small or huge problem, you want to share it with your friends... but what if you have a special friend you can tell it to but they are very busy.. what do you do then? do you wait or do you simply look to another listener? what if you needed advice and no one can help you
i lost where i was going with this but as i was reading some entry, this came up
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| if you think about it, i'm not needed at all
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| here's a lil something i did back in highschool
I am from an island fill with no memories or happiness
To a new country where i call "home."
I am from the great wall of china
That spend most my young life exploring
From childhood to pre-teens
I am from the city of angels
To the city of troubles and evil
From there I met new kinds of love and trust
That I never found in my previous life
I am from the darkness of life
That brought pains and sorrows to the life of people
From evil to pure to strong to weak
That makes life have no meaning toward me
I am the lost soul searching for a meaning
For why I exist on a planet with both pure and evil
I am from the girl who thought life has no meaning
Till friends show love and care
That brought me back to reality
I am for who I am
Because of how I am
i am strolling down memory lane ^^
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| The Tale of the Shoe
book from Kissing the Witch by Emma Donoghue
Till she came it was all cold.
Ever since my mother died the feather bed felt hard as a stone floor. Every word that came out of my mouth limped away like a toad. Whatever I put on my back now turned to sackcloth and chafed my skin. I heard a knocking in my skull, and kept running to the door, but there was never anyone there. The days passed like dust brushed from my fingers.
I scrubbed and swept because there was nothing else to do. I raked out the hearth with my fingernails, and scoured the floor until my knees bled. I counted grains of rice and divided brown beans from black.
Nobody made me do the things I did, nobody scolded me, nobody punished me but me. The shrill voices were all inside. Do this, do that, you lazy heap of dirt. They knew every question and answer, the voices in my head. Some days they asked why I was still alive. I listened out for my mother, but I couldn't hear her among their clamor.
When everything that could possibly be done was done for the day, the voices faded. I knelt on the hearth and looked into the scarlet cinders until my eyes swam. I was trying to picture a future, I suppose. Some nights I told myself stories to make myself weep, then stroked my own hair till I slept.
Once, out of all the times when I ran to the door and there was nobody there, there was still nobody there, but the stranger was behind me. I thought for a moment she must have come out of the fire. Her eyes had flames in their centers, and her eyebrows were silvered with ash.
The stranger said my back must be tired, and the sweeping could wait. She took me into the garden and showed me a hazel tree I had never seen before. I began to ask questions, but she put her tiny finger over my mouth so we could hear a dove murmuring on the highest branch.
It turned out that she had known my mother, when my mother was alive. She said that was my mother's tree.
How can I begin to describe the transformations? My old dusty self was spun new. This woman sheathed my limbs in blue velvet. I was dancing on points of clear glass.
And then, because I asked, she took me to the ball. Isn't that what girls are meant to ask for?
Her carriage brought me as far as the palace steps. I knew just how I was meant to behave. I smiled ever so prettily when the great doors swung wide to announce me. I refused a canape and kept my belly pulled in. Under the thousand crystal candelabra I danced with ten elderly gentlemen who had nothing to say but did not let that stop them. I answered only, Indeed and Oh yes and Do you think so?
At ten to twelve I came down the steps and she swept me away. Had enough? she asked, lifting a hair off my long glove.
But she was old enough to be my mother, and I was a girl with my fortune to make. The voices were beginning to jabber. They each told me to do something different. Take me back tomorrow night, I said.
So she appeared again just when the soup was boiling over, and took a silver spoon from her pocket to feed me. Our fingers drew pictures in the ashes on the hearth, vague shapes of birds and islands. She showed me the sparkle in my eyes, how wide my skirt could spread, how to waltz without getting dizzy. I was lithe in green satin now; my own mother would not have recognized me.
That night at the ball I got right into the swing of things. I tittered at the old king's jokes; I accepted a single chicken wing and nibbled it daintily. I danced three times with the prince, whose hand wavered in the small of my back. He asked me my favorite color, but i couldn't thing of any. He asked my name, and for a moment I couldn't remember it.
At five to midnight when my feet were starting to ache I waited on the bottom step and she came for me. On the way home I leaned my head on her narrow shoulder and she put one hand over my ear. Had enough? she asked.
But I didn't have to listen to the barking voices to know how the story went: my future was about to happen. Take me back tomorrow night, I said.
So she came for me again just when the small sounds of the mice were getting on my nerves, and she told me they were coachmen to drive us in stat. She claimed her little finger was a magic wand, it could do spectacular things. She could always make me laugh.
That night my new skin was red silk, shivering in the breeze. The prince hovered at my elbow like an autumn leaf read to fall. The musicians played the same tune over and over. I danced like a clockwork ballerina and smiled till my face twisted. I swallowed a little of everything I was offered, then leaned over the balcony and threw it all up again.
I had barely time to wipe my mouth before the prince came to propose.
Out on the steps he led me, under the half-full moon, all very fairy-tale. His long moustaches were beginning to tremble; he seemed like an actor on a creaking stage. As soon as the words began to leak out of his mouth, they formed a cloud in which I could see the future.
I could Hardly hear him. The voices were shrieking, Yes yes yes say yes before you lose your chance you bag of nothingness.
I opened my teeth but no sound came out. There was no harm in this man; what he proposed was white and soft, comfortable as a fog. There was nothing to be afraid of. But just then the midnight bell began to toll out the long procession of years, palatial day by moonless night. And I leapt backward down the steps, leaving one shoe behind.
The bushes tore my dress into old rags. It was perfectly silent on the lawn. She was waiting for me in the shadows. She didn't ask had I had enough.
I had got the story all wrong. How could I not have noticed she was beautiful? I must have dropped all my words in the bushes. I reached out.
I could hear surprise on her breath. What about the shoe? she asked.
It was digging into my heel, I told her.
What about the prince? she asked.
He'll find someone to fit, if he looks long enough.
What about me? she asked very low. I'm old enough to be your mother.
Her finger was spelling on the back of my neck.
You're not my mother, I said. I'm old enough to know that.
I threw the other shoe into the brambles, where it hung, glinting.
So then she took me home, or I took her home, or we were both somehow taken to the closest thing.
In the morning I asked,
Who were you
before you walked into my kitchen?
And she said, Will I tell you my own story?
It is a tale of a bird.Continue next time, hope you enjoy this story.
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