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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in
Vanzarity's LiveJournal:
| Thursday, August 29th, 2002 | |
| 10:17 pm | RAINDROP It was raining today Dirty paintbrush-water sky And the struggling form the van ahead of me Left behind was crawling in circles on two paws The car parked and feet jogged While I watched the paws slow, The head drop. Key West ocean green eyes did not once blink Out of striped grey-tan fur Yet her, not its, breathing ran. I stood in the drizzle Lacking the courage to snap her neck, Unable to leave her in the rain Alone, To die. Driving with her limp form on the seat, I called the vet. They offered a quick, Painless version of neck snapping, But I was too far away. "What can I do to make her more comfortable?" He told me. I drove to Kite's Supermarket and parked. Her breathing crawling.. "If you can make it through this," I whispered in her dirty ears, "If you can make it through this, I'll fatten you up, As fat as you want to be." Minutes later the cherry medicine Was no longer needed. At home, Warm in a washcloth, In a hole in black dirt, Full of wiggling worms I resented, She didn't hear my prayer, As I said goodbye To the Raindrop. |
| Wednesday, July 24th, 2002 | |
| 3:37 pm | RAINDROP It was raining today The roads slick Grey skies Muted colors When the maroon van ahead Tapped its breaks, I didn't think much of it. Until I saw a dark kitten form Struggling on the asphalt Where black tires had trailed moments ago. I hesitated for a second, Thinking of the warning from my aunt Not to bring another animal home. I stopped anyway. Thirty feet away from The crawling-in-circles mass. As I jogged toward it, I saw the two paws stop And the head drop. I hurried faster. Thinking of all the shows on TV Saying not to move someone with a back injury, I didn't want to move it. The maroon van returned, A short woman with dark hair, Dark eyes and a round face stepped out. The kitten stared at me with vivid green eyes, Unblinking as her chest rose and fell Under her gray-tan striped fur. "I don't think she'll make it," I said. I wasn't sure if it was a girl or a boy, I didn't care. It was no longer an it. "She just darted out from the field," the lady said. I nodded, eyes on the small form on the cement. "Let me see it," a young boy said from the back of the van. Another woman, a grandmother, told him not now. I agreed silently. A rumbling alerted me a log truck was coming. I scooped the baby up from the cold, wet cement And cradled her against my shirt. "I can't afford to take her to the vet," the lady said. She looked at me with guilty brown eyes. I tried to at least ease her pain: "You couldn't help it." I stood in the drizzle Cradling her, The opens eyes, The moving chest. I didn't have the courage To snap her neck, Nor the heart To leave her in the rain Alone, To die "I have to be in Oriental," the lady offered regretfully. "What are you going to do?" I didn't know. She waddled to her car and drove off, Break lights tapping As if she wasn't sure she was doing the right thing. I stood there for another moment, Then walked to my car. I turned the heater on and cradled the cat Before laying her gently on the seat. Driving, I called the vet. They offered a quick, Painless version of neck snapping, But I was too far away. "What can I do to make her more comfortable?" He told me. I drove to Kite's Supermarket and parked. I picked her up again, her breathing almost completely stopped. "If you can make it through this," I said to her tiny, frail form with dirty ears and fleas, "If you can make it through this, I'll fatten you up, As fat as you want to be." Inside the store, The children's liquid pain medicine seemed hidden. I walked back quickly out to the car, Being rude to a neighbor in my hurry. Although I placed a bit Of the cherry flavored medicine on her tongue, I already knew She was gone from her pain. At home, I wrapped her in a washcloth, Shoveled a hole in black dirt, Full of wiggling worms I resented, Said a prayer, And said goodbye. I named her Raindrop. So quickly to Earth, so quickly back to Heaven. 7/24/02 T.L.Register |
| Monday, July 8th, 2002 | |
| 11:35 pm |  |
| Wednesday, May 22nd, 2002 | |
| 5:53 pm | Cancer Astrology Report for 5/22/02 - This is a great time to explore the road less traveled. Why sit around thinking about what might have been when there is still time to actually obtain it? Fame is yours if you want it. You breeze through tasks that baffle and challenge everyone else; you don't understand why they're looking at you in amazement. The stars demand that you shed your modesty and celebrate yourself. |
| Friday, January 25th, 2002 | |
| 8:14 pm | I am now an Avon Lady. *shudder* |
| Tuesday, January 22nd, 2002 | |
| 9:51 pm | I give up. It's time. |
| 7:32 pm | Too much to do. Too little time. Too many episodes of Buffy on Tuesday nights (3). |
| Monday, January 21st, 2002 | |
| 10:59 am | I am only alive when I write. Current Mood: contemplative Current Music: "I'm Losing My Favorite Game" - Cardigans |
| 10:54 am | I slept most of the weekend away. I don't know how that happened, but it did. Now I'm really, really nauseous. I think it's something I ate yesterday. I was supposed to have lunch with G, but I don't know if I"m up to driving a lot right now. Haven't heard from Amanda since her weekend in Atlanta this past weekend. Supposed to meet her at 2. I would cancel on her, too, but we have college applications that need to be filled out. I really, really don't feel well. Current Mood: nauseated Current Music: "I'm Losing My Favorite Game" - Cardigans |
| Wednesday, January 16th, 2002 | |
| 11:50 pm | P. S. I need to learn how to sleep a little less |
| 11:47 pm | Tired. Did I mention I hate teacher hours? Oh yeah, yesterday... Will have lunch with gavin on the 21st (Monday) @ 12. Meeting amanda @ 2 for college applications. Monday will be a busy day. Right now, all I want to do is get to Friday at 3:05pm. *yawns* Tired, or would write more. I started on my first article to try and get paid for (it's for playgirl) got 2 1/2 pages written. Will see how it goes. Til anon, rest well, world. |
| Tuesday, January 15th, 2002 | |
| 8:41 pm | I procrastinate WAY too much. I bought a book on how to stop procrastinating, but I haven't read it yet. Go figure. |
| 8:38 pm | Eerie... Really eerie... Discovery thanks to Gavin Free personality analysis from ColorQuiz.com. Generated on Tue Jan 15 17:39:34 2002. Your Existing Situation Trying to improve her position and prestige. Dissatisfied with her existing circumstances and considers some improvement essential to her self-esteem. Your Stress Sources Delights in the tasteful, the gracious, and the sensitive, but maintains her attitude of critical appraisal and refuses to be swept off her feet unless genuineness and integrity can be absolutely vouched for. Therefore keeps a strict and watchful control on her emotional relationships as she must know exactly where she stands. Demands complete sincerity as a protection against her own tendency to be too trusting. Your Restrained Characteristics Willing to become emotionally involved and able to achieve satisfaction through sexual activity. Circumstances are such that she feels forced to compromise for the time being if she is to avoid being cut off from affection or from full participation. Your Desired Objective Seeks affectionate, satisfying and harmonious relationships. Desires an intimate union, in which there is a love, self-sacrifice and mutual trust. Your Actual Problem Needs to protect herself against her tendency to be too trusting, as she finds it is liable to be misunderstood or exploited by others. Is therefore seeking a relationship providing peaceful and understanding intimacy, and in which each knows exactly where the other stands. |
| 4:51 pm | Email Joke from Crosswalk.com/ Several men are in the locker room of a private club after exercising. Suddenly a cell phone on one of the benches rings. A man picks it up and the following conversation ensues: "Hello?" "Honey, It's me." "Sugar!" "Are you at the club?" "Yes." "Great! I'm at the mall 2 blocks from where you are. I saw a beautiful mink coat. It is absolutely gorgeous! Can I buy it?" "What's the price?" "Only $1,500." "Well, okay, go ahead and get it, if you like it that much." "Ahhh, and I also stopped by the Mercedes dealership and saw the 2002 models. I saw one I really liked. I spoke with the salesman and he gave me a really good price ... and since we need to exchange the BMW that we bought last year..." "What price did he quote you?" "Only $60,000!" "Okay, but for that price I want it with all the options." "Great! Before we hang up, something else..." "What?" "It might seem like a lot, but I was reconciling your bank account and...well, I stopped by to see the real estate agent this morning and I saw the house we had looked at last year. It's on sale! Remember? The one with a pool, English garden, acre of park area, beachfront property..." "How much are they asking?" "Only $450,000... a magnificent price, and I see that we have that much in the bank to cover..." "Well, then go ahead and buy it, but just bid $420,000, OK?" "Okay, sweetie. Thanks! I'll see you later!! I love you!!!" "Bye." The man hangs up, closes the phone's flap and asks aloud, "Does anyone know to whom this phone belongs?" |
| 4:36 pm | I've been researching magazines today in order to try and find something I can write to make some extra money. I think I found a few good options. |
| 6:47 am | I hate teacher hours. I really hate them. |
| Monday, January 14th, 2002 | |
| 10:20 pm | I'm supposed to write. Whether or not I want to. I'm supposed to sit down and pour my heart out to myself in the sense that it doesn't actually seem like my heart. Instead, it should seem like some great, wonderous writing. Instead... Instead I am here. I am now. I read today that for every page of writing you keep, you should throw two pages out. I don't know if I work like that. I feel that my writing is a bit too complex, too well thought out to be so easily tossed aside. Unless you count writing like this, which I suppose you could, burt I don't. I'm scared of writing. Is that strange? I think what I'm most scared of is failure. I don't want to fail. And yet, if I don't try I fail. Ironic, isn't it? This is my first journal entry in many moons. May it not be my last. |
| Sunday, July 15th, 2001 | |
| 7:26 pm | just something to share.... I got this email a long time ago from someone who was once very special to me. I'll post the excerpt. It's perhaps the sweetest email I ever received. --------- Ain't that the truth... of course all of the voices in my head sound the same... =) Wellllll... maybe not ALL of them. Some have a Scottish brogue. =) Yours: hmmmmmmmm... I've already covered the wind part. "Phantom kisses," those were good words that you choose. You've had a lot of practice. You're voice can be very seductive when you want it to be. It's like a lullabye. In a way yes, that means it could put me to sleep. =) But in a good way. ;) You are far from boring. Your voice reminds me of sitting on a dock by a river on my cousins' property on Wadmalaw (sp?) Island in South Carolina. It flows steadily like that river. It has the warmth of a humid day in Virginia and covers me with the viscosity of molasses. It lingers in the air like a butterfly hovering over a flower, and feels like a butterfly brushing my cheek. Your voice glides through the air as a circling falcon and strikes at my heart. It has the velvety feel of a rabbit's coat, but weighs no more than silk. It is a summer lake, and your laughter a stone that skips across that lake. Your voice fills my senses like a walk along a western beach at sunset and fills the air like the scent of freesia in early summer. That's all the detail you get about your voice (at least for now) whether you like it or not. Even if I haven't made you swoon with my description :0) I would hate to spoil you with more. You might begin to expect it all the time, then I'd be without anything to give you on special occasions. Smiles, XXX |
| 7:16 pm | pre-birthday thoughts I'm sitting here, the day before my 22nd birthday. It doesn't seem possible. It doesn't seem possible that I'm 22 years old. I would say 'where has all the time gone?" but that's a little too corny. Instead, I'll ask... where am I going. The world is this big spinning ball of life and energy and I'm sitting inside on Sunday, July 15th, 2001, waiting for something to happen. I'm waiting to wake up. I sat down and read some of my excerpts from the novel I was working on during nonfiction. It's good. It's painful. It's... I don't know. Something's happened in the course of the time since I wrote my last peice in may and now. Something's happened that feels like I've fallen off a cliff into one of those green bubbly things they use to break falls in "Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within." I'll just say I've found someone I can talk to. There isn't much more to it than that, but he pushes things out of me. I don't know if that's good or bad, but it's there. I feel like I'm waiting for something. Like this is all a fuzzy dream and I'm waiting to wake up. Speaking of dreams, my teacher told me in like 8th grade or something that most people dream in black and white. I don't think that's true. I think that might have been true when the survey or however the person that made this claim did research came up with his findings. I think it's a lot to do with what we see mostly. I bet that when he/she (mr. scientist) did that survey, a lot of people were used to watching black and white tv. I remember dreaming a lot in cartoon colors when I was younger. Now I dream in mostly real colors, although it seems it's a slight tinge more muted than real life. At least, when I say that, I mean there are not sparkles, no zing. Maybe it's a reflection of what it is now. I don't know. The world just seems so dark it's scary. Dark and dreary. Dreary and... I don't know. Life is strange. I was just startled out of my reverie by a friend who came up behind me quietly and barely touched me, but my stomach fluttered in fear. Did I mention that when the car drove into the apartment the other week that for a split second while my body was going into self-preservation mode, that I think I might have thought "They're coming to get me." Why would anyone think that? Oh well. On another note, I"ve had 5 dreams in my life where I woke up screaming and/or so terrified that I was shaking. Well, in one of them there was a big, black spider about the size of a basketball descending from the ceiling above me. When I went to Busch Gardens, I saw almost the exact excerpt from my dream. It happened when I was watching "Pirates: A 4-D adventure" or something like that. There's a scene where the spider is that big and descending from the ceiling. It didn't scare me then. I don't know why dreams are a reflection of what's going on. I'm realizing that there were a lot more things wrong in my childhood than I realized. I guess sometimes when we're used to things, we don't realize that anything's wrong. Oh well... Happy Birthday to me. 22 years since the monday I was born on. 7:54am. I was ready for the week to begin. |
| Saturday, July 14th, 2001 | |
| 12:12 am | It seems strange that comfort, solace, and perhaps even salvation can be found in the written word, or even in writing it. |