Concerts and Tornadoes

AHHHHHHH! Sorry I've been absent. Seems as though Blogger hates me, as I haven't been able to post on my blog since Wednesday. I always got this: "Sorry Julie, we cannot let you post on your blog because we hate you and want to be a pain in your ass." Well, here are the couple of things I have wanted to tell y'all since then:

Okay, we went to see Secondhand Serenade at the Attic (Positive Space, BAHAHA) and it was a-mayy-ziinnggg. When we first got there, we were standing in line for like twenty minutes, before we were let in. This oriental guy (who sounded quite girl-ish) marked our hands with Xs and we were let in. Let me just tell you this one thing if you've never been to the Attic: ES WAYY DIFFERENT THAN YOU EXPECT!
First of all, they have two stages. When you walk in, there's a room with pool tables, then you go through a little arch-way thing-ma-bobb and there are like, forty couches all aligned in a perfect square right smack-dab in the center of the room. On your right is the front stage, and on your left is the booths. The booths run all the way to the back of the room, pausing for game-machines, and stop when they get to the signing tables.
Next to the front stage is the concession things. The food place. Way too expensive. Anyway, next to that is the bathrooms, and then there's the main stage. The main stage is not exactly as big as you'd expect. It's a small venue, and the Attic is right next to a Hallmart. You can't ask for much.
Kay, done with descriptions. When we (my cousin Emmie, my other cousin Marcie, my boyfriend Dorian, and I) got there, we heard a not-so-good band play on the front stage. Cool, yaay, music. Then another band played at the main stage. They were good. Then another played at front stage, and two more played on the main stage. We waited FOREVER for Secondhand Serenade to come on, and sadly, Dorian had to leave before they even got set up.
Time to Dance! Jessica arrived just before they played their first song. While they were getting set up they played hardcore techno and some other really great songs. They flashed lights in the rooms and everyone was dancing. It reminded me of how I've always envisioned raves. Oh! And I forgot to mention. They played two songs there before the two bands played on the main stage and everybody did the dance moves in the center of the dance floor.
The set list went like this: Maybe, I don't remember, Random song, Song I know but can't place, random song, Fall For You, Song I know but can't place, Random song, Random song. Before they sang Fall For You, John (the vocalist, he was touring alone) called come chick up there to sign her shirt. He told her that she had to stay up there and sing with him and then he would sign her shirt. AWEESOMMEE.
BY THE WAY: While this was all happening. There was a tornado warning out for our county. The sirens went off! I screamed "IT HIROSHIMA ALL OVER AGAIN!" in the room and everybody laughed. They said if a tornado came, we'd all move over to the right wall because it was safe, and the owner of the Attic said he'd be in the girls' bathroom. They also said they'd keep singing, and if the power went out, they'd just have to sing louder. Best. Place. Ever.
Okay, so John came down into the crowd to sign everybody's shirt/paper/blah blah. YAY! (By now, the tornado warning has ended...sadly) Jessica bought a shirt and got it signed, and I asked him for a hug. He was like "Sure." and I was like "HUGG!" Then we all sat on the edge of the front stage and watched boys do back flips and show off. Emmie got two random guys' numbers (one of which she went on a date with today, and dragged me along.) Then we walked across the street to Sonic and ordered drinks. Then we said our goodbyes and I spent the night at Emmie's. The end.

I took pictures but they ALL came out blurry or too far away to see! Oh well. It was fun. I am so totally doing this again. I hath delcared it!!!

Alright. Goodnight.

Cha-Ching!

Going to see Secondhand Serenade at the Attic tomorrow, and going to see Panic! in Columbus. Couldn't be a happier gal.
Well, Hermit's in Vegas, for some ungodly reason. If he comes up to Ohio, tellmetellme. I want to meet the man/(insert insulting name here) that wrote those lyrics. Yay faux artists! I'd also like to meet Mrs. Swoon but I don't think she'd be coming up here anytime soon. Gotta congratulate her for dancing with Beyonce. Pretty big, eh?
When T. and Blue come into town, I won't only be seeing Panic! I'll be seeing Weezer too. Gotta love favorite bands that tour with other favorite bands. Now all we need in the mix is The (almost non-existent) Young Veins and (the actually non-existent) Fall Out Boy. Hoo-rah.

I've been writing more poetry. Haikus, actually. Less of poetry and more of just incomplete thoughts that are put into a syllabic pattern. Here's a couple of 'em:

The sun shines today;
On everything you can see.
I am indifferent.

A tree sheds it's leafs
When butterflies fly away.
A tree won't notice.

I can be indulged
In your dramatizations,
Just as a stone could.

Brendon's Perspective

I have officially decoded New Perspective. This song is not about how horny Brendon can get (like most of you suspect) or about the break-up. Y'all have it completely backwards. It's actually talking about...get this! instead of having sex with his girlfriend...gasp!.....waiting.
I know! I know! It's a very hard concept for you teens to grasp. Not having sex? Brenny must have lost his marbles! But.....hold onto your hats folks!......he doesn't just wanna get it and go. He actually wants to get to know her ('her' being Sarah) instead of her just knowing him as (as most of you call him) sex-machine. Awe, now isn't that....sweet?
Explanation time: "Can we fast-forward to go down on me....stop there, let me correct it!" Getting the picture here? Yay. Anyway, this was not only about how many times I can type 'sex' in one post (or using Brendon and 'sex' in the same sentence) it's about respect.
Yes, folks, you probably assume by now that, no, my respect and loyalty do not come easily (nevertheless, once you've earned, it ain't easy to shoo it away either), but this made me respect Brendon a little more. That got me thinking (yay...thoughts!) about respect. About how even the simplest words can alter somebodies initial thought of you.
Heck, when I first heard about Panic! (waaayyy back when. I was like, four. /exaggeration) I thought Brendon was....a tad bit odd. I never liked him at first. To me, he was annoying and immature (although, I can't really talk). I preferred Hermit (HUGE mistake) over anybody else in the band. Then Blue, then Beardy...and so on. But that's besides the point.
What I'm trying to say here is; don't let first impressions slow you down. Respect can be gained and lost, just as much as weight can. Even the simplest, littlest things can change someones opinion; persuade, sway in your direction, like treading on water (sarcastic analogies? oh! you've done it this time Jules).

So, even after someone has made their opinion blatant to you, don't stop trying to change it just because you think you can't earn their respect. Brendon earned mine.

Welcome Home

Welcome home,

Outerspace.

Reality,

Would take my case.

In any case,

Your ill from it.

It's not a race,

That you can win.

Hello, goodbye,

Change time to crime.

The past is your folk-tale.

Rewrite us falling.

Calling,

Out to the wind.

Our phase begins.

The pieces shattered,

Remains are scatterd.

Here and there,

Not broken where

You can see.

Just another

Memory.

We are

Your outer shell.

A man of whom,

We knew so well.

What happened,

To you?

What happened,

To you?

Nom

Nom nom cheetos nom.

A few things...

A few things I want to talk about:

1.) Apparently, I am color-blind, and I think my house is purple and my dog is red. I find this absolutely hilarious.

2.) I now smell like cigarettes. Thanks.

3.) There are rumors going around about me; whenever someone confronts me about one of them, I laugh in their face and tell them to believe what they want to believe, because I honestly don't care anymore. This is true.

4.) Four is my favorite number. This is on number four. 4 is also $. Eat that, 7, 8, 9.

5.) I am going to see Panic! At The Disco (whom I've loved and been obsessed with for a good 5 years now) perform at (insert venue here) on June 9th. I am extremely excited.

6.) I still play Neopets. I am 14.

7.) I zone out in attempt to cope with reality. I do not like reality. Evidently, I do like to repeat myself.

8.) I had to add something personal in this post because the thought of a post that is completely light and humorous made my skin crawl.

9.) I am a bit insane.

10.) This post was completely pointless.


Enjoy (;

I am a dork

I am a dork, we've established this. I am also an angry dork. I've been trying to create an account on Neopets (le sigh) because I'm bored out of my mind and I have no life.

Dear (le sigh) Neopets Team,

Every time I try to sign up for an account on your website, when I get to the section of the sign-up that tells me to give you my email, it always says "An error occurred, please try again." When I try to go back to the first steps to repeat them, or when I click "Create New Account" after I've exited out of trying to give you my email address, it always takes me back to the same page.

This is extremely irritating and it makes me want to boycot your site.

Please fix this.

XOXO

Jules

Words

There are a lot of words that explain me, that describe me...

Savvy
Sharp
Charming
Out-going
Eccentric
Weird
Nerdy
Obnoxious
Annoying
Selfish
Confusing
Mature
Intelligent
Immature
Hypocritical
Judgemental

.....but Envious was never one of them.....

........until now.

Time To....sing

I have a concert tonight at 7, I have to be there at 6. I'm in the women's ensemble so I have to practice with Mrs. Kerns* until Mr. Coleman arrives. The only thing I'm petrified of is awards. Since it's the end of the school year, everybody that has participated in choir, and has paid off their fees, is getting an award at the end of the show. That means I'm getting an award.
Okay. Right, left, right, left, right. Shake with your right, take award with your left. It a medallion, that's all it is. Not heavy, not a giant trophy like the juniors and up get. Just a little necklace. Okay. Going back now. Right, left, right, left, right, left, right. Stand with your medallion for the last two songs and then go down to meet mom and (vacant air).
I don't know how many times I've rehearsed that in my head. I have no clue why I'm so scared. Is it because I'm being praised? I sure as hell don't feel like I did anything worthwhile; I just sang. I love to sing, I'm not sure how many times I've repeated myself saying that, I'm pretty sure I just repeated myself saying I don't know how many times I've repeated myself. This is getting confusing.
I always run away from good things, I'm happiest being let alone. I could spend 2.5 decades just staring at a wall. It wouldn't bother me. Besides, I sing on a daily basis, and get yelled at for it. I just don't feel like I've accomplished anything by doing what I've always done.

Oh well, see you later folks. Mama's got a date with the risers tonight.

Julie 4.6

Angry-at-the-world-Julie is back again. I need to start numbering the sides of me. We'll call this one Julie 4.6, just because those are my favorite numbers (yes, I do have favorite numbers). I'm a nerd, deal with it. Here comes one of those deep, personal, and really confusing thoughts I have that none of you will probably get!

I am just another smile on your face,
just another word to replace your facade
of insolence. I am nostalgia, I dream in the future,
live in the past. And I'm measured in meters,
slipping through your grasp
when you least expect me to escape.
We are long forgotten,
close enough to touch
but too far to hold on to.
We are your skeletons, your nimble
fingers that grip so tightly onto the scythe.
Your purple knuckles, made of brass,
that you polish with the sweat you drench
yourself in when you dream of me.

I am nostalgia.

Happy Birthday Abby!!

I feel like I need to save someone today. Not exactly sure I'm fit for Superwoman....anyway.

I was invited to a birthday party tonight. It was at Skateworld, and almost none of them knew how to skate besides me. I used to go every other weekend with my cousin when I was younger, so that explains why.
It was fun; we sang "Beautiful" (or whatever it's called) by Bruno Mars to the birthday girl and danced to very random and annoying "rap" music. I snorted a few times laughing, and we made complete fools of ourselves on the skating-rink. My cousins came with me but I only occasionally talked to them.

The moral of this story is: you can have fun without partying with the "cool kids" or trying to act so much older than you really are. We acted like five-year-olds and had a blast. So stop trying to fit in with the popular crowd, because they're all carbon copies of each other.

Chances are, you are the cool kids.

(I know, I know what you're thinking. Julie sending a positive message out to people instead of complaining about how corrupt this world is? It's Hiroshima all over again!!!)

NoH8

Prop8 disgusts me. Love does not have one set gender. I like a girl. I love a boy.

Don't try to fix me, I'm not broken.


You are.....

You are dead to me. I still love you.

Why?

Ohhhh...my

Ohhhh.....my....
I've gone from two posts in one day to no posts at all. My apologies. I've been trying to write. Not really forcing myself to write, but at least getting words down on paper. And it's been a while since I've tried so hard, being the last time I tried was to impress people, and now that I don't really care what people think of me anymore, trying to write well again is beginning to become a challenge.
Inspiration vanished as quickly as it appeared. The part of my brain that stores ideas has been over-capacitated for quite some time now, and now that I need it to hold more, it's stretched well over it's limits. My words are mediocre in comparison to my old work. I feel duped.
The only thing I can think of doing is reading more or listening to more music. But by doing that I feel as though I'm not putting any effort into writing. It feels like procrastination. Nothing productive comes out of it. Then again, that's just me. I'm impatient for the genius everybody tells me I have to shine through my cracks. Every time I read someone else's poetry, there's a moment of inspiration, my genius, my idea, and then envy. Nothing more, nothing less.

Well, I suppose you won't be hearing much from me. Which, in fact, doesn't really help my situation. My blog at least helps me get down words, sentences, paragraphs. Even if it's not completely fiction or doesn't rhyme. I already feel like a dick as it is, leaving you all hanging with nothing else but old entries. But I can't have it all at once. Writing is my cake. I suppose I can't have it and eat it too.

My Loves and Dreams

I feel like I must share this bit of information with you.

I love to sing. I will sing in the shower. I will sing in school. You will not stop me.
I love to write. I will never stop writing. People seem to enjoy that aspect of me.
I love photography. A picture is worth a thousand words, yet it is still so silent.
I love anything that has to do with art. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
I love the lemonade powder. The stuff you're supposed to put in water.
I love Poptarts. They are my soul. Deal with it.
I love beauty itself. End of story.

I want to become a musician. Yet I do not want to be eaten away by fame.
I want to become a writer. I already am a writer. I want to keep writing.
I want to tour in other states. I want to see the world as it is.
I want to meet Hermit or Top Hat. I want them to like me.

Thanks for takin' your time. Bye.

You're a REAL man

You're a real man. With your purple knuckles and drunken kisses. You're a real man, don't let anybody tell you otherwise. Because it seems the dirt under your finger nails and Ethanol in your blood will just not suffice. You're a real man, a poorly-endowed sack of sorrow. You look a little yellow under this light. Could be the dimness your star has faded to. Or is it just the fact you're surrounded by instruments you'll never pick up again and bruised women that block your light? You're a real man.

And in case the sarcasm and irony were not apparent....

.....I hope you swallow your tongue and choke.

Hush..

Hush. All eyes on you. A dramatic scene; you're the director. Take 1. Take 7. The instigator; the spark that starts the wildfire; arson. Blown; out of proportions. It's mediocre, a neutral feeling...to see you sitting there. I can assume desperation has found a lucky host....Oh...and....I'm painting pictures in my head. I can't say pleasant has found its way to them.
That's wonderful. Minor setback. All I can say I have down is the words and thoughts in my head; lonesome. That's wonderful. I was the one who, not two years ago, you all hated. Now you're all so eager to read my words; to put them under a microscope and dissect. Go figure.

Edit: America

Osama is dead.

Okay, so I was talking with Allie and my brother about this whole Osama situation and had a sudden change of heart. There was no proof the body was actually Osama's, and there are so many conspiracies out there about his death it's not even funny. For instance, that Osama has been dead for years. Not likely.

I believe that bringing Osama down was just, but it was not righteous. It gave America closer for the grief and mourn of over 3,000 individuals' deaths when the terrorists struck the Twin Towers, but honestly, what was all that effort for? It did not change a single thing. We are still in a horrible recession due to the debt Bush brought upon us, in attempt to capture a man who would not bring us world peace or even level out the debt we were forced to bear.

I think none of this is relevant. Sure, it's a victory for America, and sure, it means an end to a world-wide man hunt, but it was pointless. It could have given us hope, but what would we put that hope to? The only thing America can possibly do right now is level our debt and keep our mouths shut.
Maybe in the future we can put an end to stupidity and/or irreverence, but until then, this is all we have.
It's funny how much you guys think you know about politics. Because you all like following trends, the down-fall of Osama is now the down-fall of Miley Cirus.
So enjoy it. Smile.

Okay, damn.

"So there's this girl..


She's like my sister. She makes me smile when I'm sad. She holds me when i cry. She comforts me. She frustrates me, but i love her to death. She annoys the crap out of me sometimes, but i hate being away from her. She eats all my Pop-Tarts, and mistakes peaches for mangoes. She's taught me more about myself than i could ever learn on my own. She's been by my side through the thick and thin for 6 years now. Nobody understands how close we are. She always makes me turn the light out, but i don't think i could live without her. Oh, and did i mention she's my best friend?

i love you Julie!!(;"  -- You posted this on your blog quite a while ago.
 
Why, why now, is it that I'm missing you? The first time we stopped talking, I cried. We became friends again. The second time we stopped talking, which we haven't really talked since, I figured we couldn't be friends. We are, although not always have been, different people. Not cut out to be friends. I'm sorry.
Does this make me a horrible person? I miss you. When it all blew up in my face, when I tried to talk to you after the second time, I blocked you out again. You blocked me out again.
So I suppose this is the third time we've stopped talking completely, and I'm just now starting to miss you? This is sinking in, now? Now? I shouldn't have checked up on your blog. I know you haven't posted in over four months. You only have seven posts. One was about me. Two, were about me. The rest about him.
This little glimmer of hope, maybe that you posted. Maybe it was about me. An apology? Who am I kidding?
 
I need to stop this. I'm only hurting myself.

Hermit Crab and Mrs. and Mr. Swoon

The cutest couple ever.

I can't help but wonder, didn't Keltie mention something in her book about making home videos with Hermit? I guess she never posted them on YouTube, and I can't blame her. Hermit was an awful guy, and an even awfuller boyfriend.
You can't blame me for looking up to Ry, he was so well hidden behind his "good-guy" persona no one who didn't know him could see through. I still, of course, am inspired by his lyrics, but himself as a person just makes me want to slap him, hard.
Okay, are you wondering why I call him Hermit? Because he is a Hermit Crab. He is. Not only because he's shy, and it takes him a while for him to come out of his shell, but because he hides in his shell when his life goes way too fast. He blocks people out of his life when they get to close, and disappeared in his shell when he wants nothing to do with reality.
And reality knocks on his eye-lids. More like bangs. Oh well, it takes some people a lot more than 24 year to grow up. And it takes some people only a few year to grow up. I'm just wishing he'd realize how much of his life he just threw to the dirt and will wake up from his demented dreams. Dreamer.
And Keltie deserves the stars. She's spent her whole life trying to please other people, and never herself. I suppose I can relate to her in that way. Now that Mr. Swoon came along, I think she's finally got it right. I can hear bells ringing...dum-dum duh-dum.
But Hermit, I guess this guy is just a rock. A Hermit. Crab. Rock.
I guess I can't blame him either. Or judge him. Look at me, I do the exact same thing when people get too close to me. I suppose I can understand where Hermit and K come from. I don't even know them. I've been burned, a lot. I'm too scared to let anybody get close to me, in fear I'll get burned again.

That's a bad thing. I'm missing out on a lot.