my pets, my career, kicks, movies, sex, love, cigarettes, hair cutting, hair coloring, thrift stores, my family, my friends, the lord almighty, and finally.... DANCING
You Should Be a Dancer
You have a unique combination of grace and athleticism..
Whether you become a salsa dancer or a ballerina, you need to get dancing!
What Sort of Artist Should You Be?
**i only accept people i know.. people who want to get to know me.. so please.. just leave me a message before you get dirty with me** I REPEAT. MESSAGE ME FIRST. I NEVER LOOK AT MY FRIEND REQUESTS UNLESS I GET A MESSAGE. SORRY SUCKAS, BUT ITS JUST THAT EASY.
friends of the past, of now, and of those who feel they are worthy of my friendship in the future. i have met him already and hes right behind me wherever i shall go.... thank god for you.
a range unlike no other.
i love movies.. i mean.. i LOVE movies.. but right now, on repeat: love jones. one fine day. harry potter movies. jet li's fearless. the departed. crank. lain series. smokin aces. 300.
fam guy. csi. csi miami. crossing jordan. heroes (once upon a time). ugly betty. first 48. criminal intent. WWE stuff. is eureka coming back on?. the office. whose line is it anyway?. errr.. thats all thats on when im home...
A BLANK CANVAS WHERE WORDS CAN BECOME ART ARE THE BEST:::::"i simply want to be/ the love song/ dangling from his lips/ unfiltered/ ever burning at the end/ the beginning forever/ at his lips/ my dreams/ on the tip of his tongue....."i want to be/ the one he calls/ on his cigarette break/ not the cause of it"- saul william:::::
"AN ELEGANT SUICIDE IS THE ULTIMATE WORK OF ART" - TRISTAN REVEUR
it is through madness, a work [of art] that seems to drown in the world, to reveal there its' non-sense, and to transfigure itself with the features of pathology alone, actually engages within itself the world's time, master's it, and leads it; by the madness which interrupts it, a work of art opens a void, a moment of silence, a question without answer, provokes a breach without reconciliation where the world is forced to question itself - michel foucault