I love chili. And the snow melting from the shingles that is dripping off of the roof and creating shadows through the window onto the screen. I love the sun on my back.

I hate not being able to go to the Caroline's Spine show.

The snow is beautiful! And I am so glad that the temperature no longer feels like -10F. I suppose I will go out soon and shovel snow. That's funny, isn't it? Going outside to get warm. It's pretty cold in this room.
I didn't go to school today. I wanted to, but my parents stressed the possibility of "getting in a wreck." My Dad sat with his Frango minty instant coffee, paper in hand, and told me about the dangers of the roads: they were covered in snow, with ice beneath, it was still snowing, and there was a possibility of freezing rain later. My Mom sat with her SuDoKu (that horrible little test rat game) and her coffee from Tim Horton's grounds and a French press and told me how half the students wouldn't be there anyway.
I hate missing school.
I hate it like I hate missing church. I feel like crawling into bed and pulling the covers over my head until it is hard to breathe. My bed will be warm now after three hours and the sun will be shining in the window. But I want to do something to escape the time that should be spent in class.
I want to play Solitaire on the computer so I can say that I have no friends to play card games with. No one calling me because I turned my phone off while I had lacrimal fluid running down the sides of my nose and from the inside of my nose. I want to drink espresso every morning and not eat anything and become skinny and snotty and wasted. And stay drunk on Friday nights so I can repent on Saturday.
I feel like nothing I could do would make up a good alternative for missing class. I should have been sitting in the last row in the third chair in HL115 at 11:50 and the first chair of the third row in RAC220 at 1:15. Instead, the teachers are bending over steaming lunches in the cafeteria and laughing at the possible punishments for students who skip class because of frozen flakes of water. For students who are not dedicated; who do not stick to their word and come to class every day. It only meets two times a week, for heaven's sake. "You can't do better than that?"
I want control. I want to have the control to take my car out in the middle of a blizzard and run into a DTE pole and the control to make myself run six miles without stopping and the control to make my headaches come and go as I need them to. I want the control to eat frozen peas and cinnamon rolls with melted sugar for dinner and get on a plane to go to Georgia and take a road trip to Cali. I want to get A's on all my tests and wear designer jeans that fit me perfectly while I sit at Bravo and drink Bellinnis or stand in line at the Machine Shop to see Caroline's Spine or skank by teeny boppers into the Metropolis. I want to smoke Camel wides with Ben Blevins and walk away without telling him who I am. I want to walk away form a lot of people. But oh God, I want to hang on to them.

Jewel: Hands

If I could tell the world just one thing
It would be that we're all OK
And not to worry 'cause worry is wasteful
And useless in times like these
I won't be made useless
I won't be idle with despair

It was one final attempt, in the pouring rain, to keep her. To not let her walk away with tears on her cheeks. He took her trembling jaw in his hands.
"I love you," he started. "I think you are beautiful, gorgeous inside and out. I hate you because I want to be like you and I can't. I want to be closer to you and I know I have no right to be. I want to do so much for you and live my life purely for you. I think you are smart and funny. You are so humble... I'll never know how you can be like that. You're gentle, kind and understanding. You always give everything and everyone a fair shot, a fair chance. You've given me too many chances, and I can't believe I'm asking for one more."

Oh, sappy wonderfulness! I could write romance novels. Somehow this doesn't peak my interest.

When we walked up the stairs and through the heavy white doors, down the carpeted hall to the low-ceilinged room, sat in the back row on temporary green chairs, and focused on the final frozen form of his father, it took a minute to notice that he had not followed.

The end now written;
laid down in stone.
Come by
by cumbersome ways.

Take me back
to where he broke
the glass he shattered
the bullets he spoke
the wrong that seemed to matter.

Put back the rifle
the black from which
no death wish ever returns.

Weave back the blood
to draining veins
replace the cries
and shouts
and silence
to lungs that breathe no more.

Lay little heads
back to bed
to rest and keep
their innocence.

-Kate Caretto

Tell me a happy story.

Cellar Door


DONNIE
What's "Cellar Door"?

MS. POMEROY
(spaced out)
A famous linguist once said... that of all
the phrases in the English language, of
all the endless combinations of words in
all of history... that "Cellar Door" is
the most beautiful.

I have about 10 minutes. I really should be studying, but oh well. I'll leave that for the Holiday. Just like everything else I should be doing like writing my aunt to tell her when spring break is to see if I can come down to see her. Like out walking in the cold air because I will be sitting on my butt all day. Like really working off that Lost Perfect 10 which I haven't even finished yet, but I'm still very hyper and talkative. I'm never talkative. Just look at my phone bill. Oh, wait. How about not. School has all of three weeks left. I am dissapointed with my last lab quiz. I am really going to fail my math final (who says that the third root of 100 is 3? Who does that?). But I digress. How can that happen? If you don't have a point in the first place, how can you digress? I don't know. I have about 30 Dictionary a Day emails in my inbox which I haven't had a chance to look at yet. Do they sink in if I just let them sit there? Do I really have to read them and copy them down in my little journal and let them seep into my everyday life? I guess so, considering I don't remember any of them. I should really get cracking on the ACT too. I can not wait to go back to Flint. Rochester people do not know how to drive. Or rather, I can not get used to how they drive. When those folks put on thier brakes, they mean it! The SHO convention will be a blast. Now to come up with 500+ dollars. Ha ha ha. How can I justify that when children are starving and being beaten and raped of everything they have? How can I justify my life as I lead it? How can I sit here and think about my next meal when mothers give thier lives to see their children chew a handful of grain? But my 10 minutes is up. I only hope to one day use it more wisely.... I only hope to see a starving child enjoy 10 minutes as much as I have enjoyed my life.

I'm Sorry

I'm sorry.
I colored my hair last night
And left splatters of dye on the rug.
I made a mug of coffee this morning
And left the grounds in the drain.
I grabbed the last box of tissues
And you had to use your sleeve for tears.

I'm sorry.
I brushed my hair
And left the strands in the comb.
I forgot it was the weekend
And my alarm rang out at six a.m.
I lost the ambition to quit
And I took your Camel Wides.

I'm sorry.
I'm not sorry for
What I left behind.
I'm sorry for running away form your hopes.
I'm sorry for you walking into my room,
My bags were packed and gone,
My whereabouts posted unknown,
My stuffed animals gone from my bed,
And you were left to cry on the dirty carpet.
I'm sorry for the words left unspoken,
The signs un-noticed,
The hostility overpowering,
The ostensible affection.

I'm sorry.

-Kate Caretto

Orgy: Blue Monday

How does it feel to treat me like you do?
When you've laid your hands upon me
And told me who you are
I thought I was mistaken
I thought I heard your words
Tell me
How do I feel? tell me now
How do I feel

How does it feel?
How should I feel?
Tell me how does it feel?
To treat me like you do

Those who came before me
Lived through their vocations
From the past until completion
They'll turn away no more
And I still find it so hard
To say what I need to say
But I'm quite sure that you'll tell me
Just how I should feel today

I see ship in the harbor
I can and shall obey
But if it wasn't for your misfortunes
I'd be a heavenly person today
And I thought I was mistaken
And I thought I heard you speak
Tell me now
How should I feel
Now I stand here waiting...
I thought I told you to leave me
While I walked down to the beach
Tell me how does it feel
when your heart grows cold

How does it feel?
How should I feel?
Tell me how does it feel?
To treat me like you do

"Do you know how fast you were going meow?"

-Super Toopers

Hey all. Winter is here it seems. It feels like school and I am thrilled. I think that I want to stay at a college indefinitely. Starbucks, Borders, late night libraries, weekend sports celebrations with no interest in the actual game, hungover weekend days with family, quick breakfasts, quicker lunches, do-I-have-to dinners, I'll-call-you-backs. Yes, college is the life for me.

October saw a 15.8 second quarter mile for my baby. Not bad for nine years old and a hundred and ninety three thousand miles. I love my car.

I need more time to write. I think we should all campaign for longer weekends. There should be like a pre-weekend and then the actual weekend. Toronto should last longer too...
The Royal Agricultural Winter Fair, Toronto, ON, Canada.
This is one of my future essay subjects, among these to:

-How I need to change, how I can change the world
-My love for my car
-Get-into-vet-school essay
-I-could-use-a-scholarship essay

I'll try to work on those...

Only four weeks until I go to Toronto! I can't wait. This year is going to rock, if it's the only good thing about this year. I will also have had this blog for a year. Kinda sad...

Thing One, Conrad, Sally. Conrad, Sally, Thing One.

Thing Two, Conrad, Sally. Conrad, Sally, Thing Two.

Thing One, Thing Two. Thing Two, Thing One. Conrad, Sally. Sally, Conrad.

I am the Cat. Don't belittle me.

Ah, yes, of course.

Thing Two would like to clarify that just because he wears the number two...

does not imply in any way that he's inferior to Thing One.

And all of the above.

He says you may feel free to call him Thing "A," if you like.

He will also accept Super Thing, Thing King, Kid Dynamite,

Chocolate Thun-Da... or Ben.

The Cat in the Hat

She folded his sweatshirt,
Neat and clean jus like
The lines between them.

She placed it in the box with
His Christmas present;
A time they never got to share.
He only saw the times when they were apart.

She took a forced breath,
And closed her eyes,
His face already fading in her memory,
His fragrance still an aegis to reality.

She printed his address from
Her birthday card, a
Memento from happier times,
Maybe the only one.

She mailed it out two weeks late.
Prolonging what was already gone.

She sent it out with every good feeling left,
And sealed it with silence,
Realizing too late that she had given him
What was left of her.

-Kate Caretto

D 12: How Come

[Eminem:] So I changed huh? You got a phone, pick it up, call me

How come we dont even talk no more
And you dont even call no more
We dont barely keep in touch at all
And I dont even feel the same love when we hug no more
And I heard it through the grape vine we even beefin now
After all the years we been down
Aint no way no how, this bullshit can't be true
We family and aint a damn thing changed, unless it's you

[Verse 1: Eminem]
So young, so full of life in vibrant side by side wherever you was ridin' i went
So close, almost on some bonnie and clyde shit
When ronnie died you weres right by my side with a sholder to cry on
Tissue to wipe my eyes, and a bucket to catch every tear i cried inside it
You even had the same type of childhood i did
Sometimes i just want to know why is it that you surcame to yours
And mine i survived it, you ran the streets, i 9 to 5'd it
We grew up, grew apart, as time went by us, then i blew up
To both yours and mine surprises
Now i feel the vibe i just cant describe it
As much as your pride tries to hide it
Your cold, you touch its like ice
In your eyes is the look of resenment
I can sense it, and i dont like it

[Verse 2: Kon Artis]

It was my dream at first to be on spittin a verse
On my own album with a deal but shit got worse
So i came out i woulda killed a nigga first
Before i let him disrespect me and check me over some worste
Some bitch that i wasnt with i would hit her then quit
But you would pull a talk with her and tell her she was the shit
I told you dont get involved in it, you was smokin the chron with her
Comin out of the bar with her stumblin half drunk
Like yall was husband and wife or somethin
But me catchin her fuckin other niggers musta hurt you pride or somethin
Cuz you wont fuck at the mouth with people like you wanted with me
When all i tried to do was show you that your bitch was shifty
And ever since the fans and all the shit that i produced
You actin like i aint you man and lyin like she can't be loose
But i am really you friend, i'm jus trying to tell you the truth
But dont hate the game or the player
Cuz the one that is changing is you

[Verse 3: Proof]

You're only at the top cuz my homie had to stop
Now we actin like i gotta live only for the block
Homies in the hood only she be on the tube
Only gossip on the porch get to speakin on who
Fools i used to rap with all expect magic
Like my finger get to snappin and *poof* it jus happen
But PROOF is jus actin out the party was stoned
Shady made it so my babys aint starvin at home
See the devil in you grin since the ghetto we been friends
Whenever real intelligence thats forever till the end
I be the hatred in your eyes and the satan in your lives
And wastin my times with these snakes in disguise
(how come) when you talk its with bitter is fight
And (how come) it's my fault for what you did with your life
And everytime i go to hear you and play you look away
We barely embrace, you can't even look me in my face.

Hello world. Lonely World. I am waiting for some pictures to attach to an email, so I decided to write. This is my favorite pastime. This is what I live for, if anything. This is my passion.

The Family Values Tour was awesome. Peter got his eye messed up (and I mean messed up) in the mosh pit, but he's doing better and neither of us got high or drunk or arrested so it was all pretty un-regrettable. I know Korn was the headliner, but we didn't stay for their whole performance. They aren't that great (no offence to any Korn fans) and Peter's eye was really starting to hurt. Tator Salad and his sister and a bunch of cool people were there. I was surprised to see TS, but I'm glad I did. He is so funny when he's tipsy. Stone Sour rocked, as did Flyleaf and they can rest assured that the concert did increase CD sales, cause I just bought both.

School is the shizniz; that's about all there. I must say, though, that I really don't like getting less than 100%. It's not that I have technically failed, but I have still failed to make the full score. There is still room for improvement.
I could use a lot of help in that whole "improving thyself" realm.

I didn't eat dinner tonight. I take the stand of calling awareness to world hunger. So be aware. Be hungry.

My Baby is going to get special treatment before winter. I really would like her doors to stay closed while driving through Rochester and, hell, if she would start on most mornings that would be spiffy. How about a plate that says "blk bull?" I think it's a keeper. I have also come up with the best story for why she has a dent in every body panel- "We was sendin down this deal in the hood. We were all tryin to pack up and chill off when all these thugs came just came a'runnin all at us. We was tryin to bust outta there and went heavy on the throttle. Well, a few gangstas got caught up and went "thud" and so that's where the damage came from. We was hittin gangstas in the hood."

Ex Libris is my new muse. I am in awe at some of the artists and their work. They have become my heroes. Goodbye Superman, these mortals can write! I really must pursue my dreams. When I do I feel so much more me. At least there is a me somewhere.

I really hate myself when I can not take the leap of faith to throw myself out in the world and not give a care what people think. I'm always so caught up with what people think that I just know I am, and have been, missing out on life options that may have taken me down a better road. Am I being too vague? I'm sorry. I'm just afraid of what you'll say...

This is a shout out to Riley, Steve, and Jeff (if that's what your name is).
This is a shout out to my homeslice.

Chow.

The Exies: Ugly

Are you ugly?
A liar like me?
A user, a lost soul?
Someone you don’t know
Money it’s no cure
A Sickness so pure
Are you like me?
Are you ugly?

We are dirt, we are alone
You know we're far from sober!
We are fake, we are afraid
You know it’s far from over
We are dirt we are alone
You know we're far from sober!
Look closer, are you like me?
Are you ugly?

Turn a blind eye
Why do I deny?
Medicate me
So I die Happy
A strain of cancer
Chokes the answers
Are you like me?
A liar like me?

I don’t care, you don’t care
I’m bitter, you’re angry.
You don’t care, I don’t care
You love you, just like me
I blame you, you blame me
I’m bitter, you’re angry.
You don’t care, I don’t care
You love you, like me

Are you Ugly?
Are you Ugly?
Are you Ugly?

Fuck that Shit.

Every time I think I'm over him, I think of him again.
Every time I think we're getting along, I go and screw things up again.
Every time I think it's ok, they go and make me jealous again.
Every time I think I'm gonna quit, I end up giving in and doing it again.
Every time.
Every time.
Every time.
Please bury me.

Deadsy: Brand New Love

The desperate eyes that close, maybe it goes away.
Please rest tomorrow,and bring a satisfied day.
The restless urge of love that's worth, the burning for.
Surely it's that one comforting, love to give you more.
And this thought can be that begins, the brand new tangled web you're spinning.
Anyone can be your brand new love.
Any time the force can be broken, to tear your bitter world to be open.
Anyone can be your brand new love.
You won't be the first.
Your twisted change is normal...gossip, dirt.
Whisper to the nodding head, thrilled you fell apart instead of them.
But they will,'cause any hope for love can be killed.
If you need a different face, it's definite time to destroy this place.
Follow what you feel, you alone will decide what's real.
Anyone can be your brand new love.


Tell me a happy story, please. Anyone. If you will hold me tonight and tell me it's all going to be ok, I will be yours. Call me 'baby girl' and run your lips along my neck. Tell me I am precious. Make me feel... I don't care like what, I just want to feel. To be alive. To love. To be loved. Whisper sweet nothings in my ear and wrap your arms around me. Make my spine tingle and my eyelids close. Can you do this? Can you be my everything? If you can not, will you please tell me. Don't lie to me. Don't build up trust that you will later break down.