I don’t entertain people who I know are figuring they’ll show me the light, whether it be by religion, politics, or any other way. I don’t get serious with someone if I am not sure about them. I don’t do something just because people claim that I oughta….but I certainly did at one time.

“Everybody’s got a secret, Sonny
Something that they just can’t face
Some folks spend their whole lives trying to keep it
They carry it with them every step that they take…”

I really enjoyed catching up on the additions to PostSecret because there were some that reflected my own past. The whole project scares me into realizing just how far I’ve come from destructive thought patterns and mistakes, and my heart goes out to a lot of those people.

“…’Til some day they just cut it loose
Cut it loose or let it drag ’em down
where no one asks any questions
Or looks too long in your face
In the darkness on the edge of town.”

Body image, peer pressure, tradition. There are so many mindtraps you have to watch out for. I got IMed by someone tonight (after they informed me about how being unable to apply to any of the cards and feeling very lucky about it made me voyeuristic), “Sure, if you want to base your life philosophy off postcards scanned onto the Internet.”

And then it looked like I signed off, but it wasn’t the truth.


Spring Proof

Today I got up and grabbed our biggest Cutco knife. The end product:
Lilacs and Kitty

Also, a smaller bouquet with some other flower I found in the shade:
wild flower

As always, Leeloo was checking out my every move, so I had to point the camera at her a couple times.

Continue reading

Mystery Tadpole

I’ve been keeping a tadpole alive for a few months now and it has stopped breathing underwater and started surfacing for air. I rigged some rocks in its tank that provide some land at different water levels and removed the filter, today.

The super store got the tadpole by mistake and sold it to me for a dime because they didn’t know anything about it. I can safely rule out newt and toad – I hope this frog isn’t going to kill me when I handle it.

I’m trying to Google what kind it is, as it looks like it’s sticking around for a while. If anyone has a clue, let me know.


From Envelopes To the Monitor.

I keep an eye on the Jonathan Brandis community I created shortly after his suicide. Some of the mourning fans have written his parents, Mary and Greg (the same two adults I used to read about in my teen magazines) who have sent some things back.

One devestated girl scanned the cards. It’s amazing to stare at the photo of him with his pets (which I remember reading about, as well) and think, “Wow. He was only an image to me… and here he is again, at the end. He’ll be a photo, forever.”

Speaking of the emotionally moving, I wanted to provide a link to some of the best post cards I’ve ever seen in my life, made for the project PostSecret:

Do take a look.

A Line Drawn

“Your sheenie masters finally putting a leash on you?” — anonymous hate mail to


One of the sites I subscribe to and always told myself I’d be a loyal customer of once I could afford it, has compromised their inventory of clothing. No more than a few days ago, this bizarre letter loaded at my inbox:

“My name is Aaron Schwarz and I own T-Shirt Hell. Because of that, I can do whatever the fuck I want. I woke up one morning and decided I didn’t want to have a “Worse Than Hell” section, so I took it down.

We always said there was no line we wouldn’t cross, but even then there really was still a line. There were always subjects we wouldn’t touch. So now we’ve moved the line. Sometimes people grow, and change, and gain perspective. There are some shirts we just don’t feel comfortable making and we’re not going to make them any more. Those are the shirts we took down…


I was crushed because all of my laughs had come from the “Worse Than Hell” section, and it was fun to be a member of one of the most offensive sites on the web. They didn’t seem afraid to depict a tearing Native American who had lost his land, or print shirts resembling the John Deere symbol which actually showed a leaping fairy bearing the words “Nothing Runs Like A Queere”, or how about the classic “I (plane) NY”? Now it seems that the remaining titles consist of cliche boy-girl gags, nothing that anyone would be particularly afraid to say.

Plenty of hatemail is collecting HERE. After reading some of the hot-headed responses to the owner’s decision, I sent in my own feedback:

I just wanted to let you know that, while I am disappointed with my favorite tee-shirts being removed, I understand why some of the titles were taken down. You did what you wanted to do because you felt it was right and the majority of your loyal customers will accept this.

There was a case where someone was taken to court for having an offensive jacket. They let him go free and it was ruled that any such “harrassment” could be easily avoided “by simply averting one’s eyes”. But while we have the freedom to wear any shirt we want to, I understand that we cannot make you host them.

What else can I say without starting to curse in all capitals? It won’t be the same.

The most outrageous designs have been given the axe, and it is certainly a cold day in hell. For anyone curious, the list of a few retired designs can still be seen HERE.

I’ve Been Having Fun.

And now, a break from reading the feeds to participate in one…

Last night I had a dream that reached way down into the part of me where something unfortunate happened a long time ago, and the message was still, after all these years of since having grown past it, “I want this one thing to not be wrong, anymore.” It seems that there will remain, possibly forever, a thirteen-year old, squeaky-clean dirty blonde running through my dream universe. Every time I get to see her again, it will be after things were said and done. It will always be too late.

Forgive me, Journal, for I used to be a villain to some. It has been weeks since my last genuine entry. I’ve also gone back to a personalized design, as I couldn’t stand relying on other people’s images. With my face slapped onto an icon, several people have added me to their friends list. How many more souls shall I harvest before you let me go?

It has become custom to hear the roar of an engine and Dad, leaping from the rocking chair in front of his Nintendo System. The front door slams. You know he thinks that someone is up to no good.

William Dean has taken it upon himself to avenge our home in the country. For hours, he pulled trash from 12 foot ditches, hauling stoves, couches, tires and everything else within a 3 mile radius that was dumped by people who were too lazy or poor to dispose of their garbage, properly. I’m a little worried about him because he has taken his watch rather seriously with a bought of abnormal paranoia. If he feels that a vehicle is creeping too slowly past our house, he exits the trailer and jumps onto his bike to pedal out into the road and stare at them until they vanish.

Mother was perplexed when he “pruned” our wall of liliac bushes out front, so I explained to her, “Don’t you know why the bottoms of all our trees and brushes are gone? It’s so he can see if someone’s on the other side of them.”

I’m currently on the back deck, watching a storm come in. Plastic chairs are blowing over, it’s getting dark and the penned-in area’s door is creaking back and forth. The change in weather has caused most of the hornets and bees to take off, but some are still landing on the patio until they meet the broom I’ve armed myself with. I can hear Chris in the trailer with Dad, singing loudly to a bad Kinks song. They may be using the microphones, with that kind of amplification.

Stealing the Family Van…
Two weekends ago I was running through the trinket stores of downtown Ann Arbor, where Jason showed me a nice underground arcade with a drum machine that swallowed many tokens. I chased my bouncy ball prize across the streets and came back with a cool postcard of Jack Kerouac. As a reward for driving two and a half hours for the visit, he bought us (including Dan, a beautiful high school friend I drag around everywhere) lunch, played us obscure music we’d never heard and sent us home with copies of extreme Asian cinema. I mustn’t forget to mention his ex-digital that was hanging on the back of his door, my new and working digi cam, without which I would not have a new journal layout.

On The Scene…
Let’s see, what else? I was there opening night of Hitchhiker, just so I could catch a glimpse at a geeky-looking audience. No one brought their towel along, but it was definitely not the average high school crowd. One guy got there and pulled out his PSP, while another declared the geekiest, “I wanna know who they’re gonna get to do the voice of the dish of the day”. While I feel that the film was far from epic, it was very amusing and worth seeing at the theatre.

Not Online…
Thurs-Sat I was with Brad in Detroit. Then on Sunday, I invited him up here for an afternoon at my grandma and aunt’s farm. The barn has been restored and the entire property is starting to seem less like aftermath. I showed him the pond and lots of things that Grandpa built, often having to explain what used to be around, which was a little awkward. Several cats greeted us before we were called to a lunch of barbecue and hot dogs.

Seeing as how it was Mother’s Day, I gave Mom a set of granny-smith scented candles because I knew they reminded us both of her dad’s apple trees.

I took advantage of Green Day PRESALES and got general admission at the Palace in Detroit. I seriously thought I was going to cry if I didn’t get to see Billie Joe during his black eyeliner phase. Earlier tonight I had a scare, thinking my row 107 was section 107, which would have meant that they’d sold me seating behind the stage. Luckily I’m just a tool and didn’t read the ticket receipt correctly. My pulse is now slowly returning to normal…

normal for me, anyway.