| Zalgo approaches. |
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| 05:10pm 10/11/2009 |
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music: Spirit of the West - "Home for a Rest"
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I've been lately going crazy, and I mean that quite literally. The thing about the belief in the paranormal is that the more open your mind is to the possi͠b̶i҉li͢t͘y ̕of̛ ̧a͠n͡ ̧a͜ĺi̢e͞n͡ exist̶enc̴e,͏ b͠e ̨i͏t ̕sp̶ir̨iţs ͝or ext̶ŕat͜e̷rrést͝ri͡als͜, t̕h͞e̷ m̀or̡e͘ su͠sc͏e̷pt̨ib͞le ̷yo̕u̢r m҉i҉nd ͠is ̷fo͠r b̴ei͢ng̡ ͘app̴r̡oac͘h̵ed ̶by t́h̕ese ̸e̛n̡ti͞ties̀.̧
Latèl̢y͠,̕ I̵'̶ve͏ ̨had ̷t͝he҉ ̴fe̕e̸l͝i͡ng̢ ́th͝at I'̛m̢ ͘n͢ot al̸ơne, a͡n͜d ͢i̴t'͡s b̴ee̕n̢ ̷s̨tarti̶ǹg̶ to man͜if̴eśt ̴its̡e͞lf̨ ̧i҉ǹ ͡my ̕ev̀er̢ydáy li͞fe.
I̬̭̼̝͘t̛ ͚͙͜m̯̬͙i̸̤͇g̣͞h̪̖̺͖̰͝ͅţ̬͈̤̝ ̧̰e̛̗͖͎̙͇̠v̻̻̰͎͕̖è̫n̷̬͔̫ ̠̜͖̱̲b̜̠͡e͕͍͟ ͖m̤̫̩̖a̧̜̣̲͖̜n̘̭if̕e҉͈s̶̺̹̜̻̯ti̸n̹͙̰͖͉̱͘gͅ ͟i͓̩t̻̠̟̦͉͈͎s̶̳͈̗̘͇̺e̵͍̹̗ḷ̶̗͔ͅf̳͎̣̻͙ͅ ̬̗̖i҉n ͈̤̼̠m̪͍͞y͞ ̵͈̱e͍͓̫̮̺l͙͖̮͎̳ͅe̖̭̹̜̲c̪̣t͏͓͓͕̟͇r̥̙̼̩̫̺̹o̶̩̠̯̣̻̖n͇͟i̕c̦̟͈̫͎̝͟s̩̥͞.̡.͙.̧̦̙m̫̰͞y̴̭̭ ̹͖̬̳͖͙͓́p̟̥͇͕̮͓̬h̵ó̠͍͎n̻e̷̱̙͇̻̖̮͔ h͚̦͍̝͠a͞s̺̺ ̼͔̼̗̠̹̟͠b̘ee̝̝͔̕n̬̞̰ ͜w̨͚̭̮ͅe̴i̻ṛd̛̰̹͚̰̤̯̰i͇͖̙̮͟n͏̻̜̞̞g̸̟̹̝̣͙̯̲ ̗̰͔̮͚̼ǫ̖̭̟u͚̙̙̣ṱ̛̝͕̙̭ ̴̱̜̳o̹̼̗̻͕̯͉n̶̩͇̙ ̶̲m̗͚̜͍̣͚e̘̹̤̖̹͉͖ ͏a̡͇̫̠̳n͔̯̟͇̲͡d̤̳̱̟͓͇̙͡ ͝m̸͓y̨̳̦ ̤̞c͕͓͙̻̠͚ͅo̠̺̱m͎p̟̖̖̥ͅú̩̼̝te̹r̢̳̤̲ͅ ͘h̹̝̺̥̩ͅa͏̙̞s̷̪̗͍̫̼̖ͅ ̡b̝̭͚̮̟̩̰e̝͇̘̕e̪̟̖ͅͅn͔̻̞ ̺̹̞u҉̗n̥ư̼̣̥̭ş̟͈u̙a̞̪̯͈̖͝ḻ̱̯l̨̜̦͙y̦̙ͅ s͙̙̤͟ͅl͍̥̻̬o̦̝̝̮w̵̯͚̩̻͓̩,̴ ͠w͍̜̦̗̹̙̞i͏̝͍͔̰̝͎̲t̺͙̤̮̝͠h̼̤ ̣d̰͠i̟̰̣͖͍͔s̡͓̲̪t͇͈͚u̗̖̤̠͙͉̰r̴b͜i͕̮̪̯̖n̛͎̖̟̳g̡̦͈̰ ̖̩i̲̪͢m̀a͏̮̮͖g̛̘̯̻è̘̤ͅs͉̯̠̕ f͖͡i̞͇̬͎̙̣̦͡n̮̘͉d̖i̥n̡̜g͘ ͞t̸̠̱̬͓͙̘͖h̨̫̣ḙ͈̮̪͕̖i̘̺͕̼̲̰̪r͚̜̲̱ ̦̟̱̘̱͍͙́w̜a̷͇͎ỵ̤̩ͅ ͓͈̘̫̦̖̰t͖͎̱o͟ ͖͔̭͠m̸̙y̡̺̙̝ ͈͈de̥̳̰͉ș̡̭̰̲̺͔k͎̳̻͠to҉̫̜̻̬̟ͅp̶̞̤ ̳̱b҉a̴̼͔c͍̩̣̗̳̝k̙͈͚̹̠͎͝g̰̩̹̘͡r̵̖̰̖̖̻ͅọ̙̘u̖̙̯̻̼̜͜ͅn̛̫͎̠d̗͠.̲̟͉̤ ͏͈̙À͙͚n͙̰̗̝͟d̟͎̰̠͈̀ ͈̣͓̳̹̣͘I͇ ͖̠͇̩̺̼̣m̝͚̹͈͇e̙̗̤a̵̤͕̤̞̖n̞ ̡̰̺s̤̦̮̦͈̠o͕͓̻͖m̼̙͠e҉͖̱̱̘̺͍ ̯̘͇̳̳r̶̳e̤͘a̦͇̣͎͚̜l͈͇̲̦̟̹̮l̼̣̘̙͔y̞̘̦̞̩̞ ̰̼͡f̦̻̳̜r̸͚͚̞ͅe̫͙̩̮a̲̠̖k͈̳͍̖y̢̤̠͚ ̤͇s͏̹͚̼͙̯h̳̩̪͉̩ìt̼͎͚͚̦̭ͅ,̰̱́ ͝l̪̘͇̲͓ͅi͇̗͎̖̙ͅk͖̙͚e̩̼̪̜ ̧͇͇̜̱͔̞̣i͖͈m̲̞̮̩̞ag̳̦̠͈̘̬̭è͙̞̙͚s̱̻ͅ ̤͇̼͇̘̞ͅf͚͇̼r̭̱̻̘̣ͅo̼̲̯̲̭̘͓m̻͍̼̳̦ ͉̭͉̖̲͕͇t̯̣̱h̰͖̮̠e̥̙̦̥̻͞ ̱̮B̖̲͓̗o̖̦̯s̡̖͖͚n̬͓̠̲͟i҉̞̭̰̰̣̯a҉͎͇̩̺n̶̠ g̫̹̲͙̠͢e̗̣̖̻͎̳̞n̞̩̳̦̭̩o̘̟̳̳̕c̀i̦͖͇d̴͎̘̥͕e͈̲̬̜̟̻̟ ̖̯͎̲̣̥̟á͓n̰̼͇̼͔d̠̩͎̥̠̻͢ ̴͓s̡̭͇̪̗͈̥t͜u̞̪̜f̩̘̹f̩͕.̘͠ ̞̻͖̪̲̥͞ͅ
Ḭ̲̼̞̿̑t͖̮̯̝͈͚̆͠'͛͌̾҉̭ș̵̰̮̓̍ ̐̑͆͏͍͈̠̳ṛ͚̼̬̖͚̟̐̊ͧͦ͢ȩ͕̙͙̬̫̳̫ͫͩͥ͐ͪ͗â̵͙̬̽ͬ̅ͧ͑ͬlͧl̹͈̥̔́̐ͅy͓͖̋ͣ̈́ ͈̭̟̠̯͠s̝͕̬̰͋̈ͩt̺̖͔ͣ͗a͍̯̲̼ȑ̝̜ͦ̇̔̽̑̾͠t͌̀ī̴̼̲ͭ̈̅̃n҉̣ͅg̍͂͒̋͋͆҉͙̹̱͎̜ ̡͇̟͓̐̋̽͛t̮̬̑̀̀ͯͤ̑̓o̢͕ͧ ̸̬̠͔̲͐ͅḧ̟͎̞ͪ͑̾̾ͫ̚ͅą̮̬̫̀͐ͬv̸͖ͫe̎ͪ̚ ͙̬̌̐͡a̻̝̓ͥ͒́nͫͥͩ͑̃ͭ͏̦ ̪̰̻̚͞e̟̯͚̘̪̍͋̊̋̐ͫ̃f̡̬͙͖͎͈ͥ̍ͣ̃̚f͆͒̓ͯ̑̃e͗̾̑̚c̜̰̭̝̺̓ͫ̑̿t̵͇͍̆̿́ͬ̊̅̌ ̣̞̮̻̭͖ọͬ͊̓͞ǹ͖͇̭̊ ͔̗̬̥͙m̺̤̏̄͐ȳ̴̳̜̺̋̽ ͯ̍͑ͫ̓e̩̻̠̰̫̰ṿ̶̫̖͖̲̽ͨ͐̚e̡͚͉̮̻͈̤̟̔ͮr̭̖̘̹̂̑͗̎ͅỵ ̨̬̟͖̬͉̖͉̊͂d̀͊͡ǎ̦̜̞̖̘̯̭ͦ̅̑y͕̠̤̠̖̍͛̈́ͮ̅̚̕ ͚̳̺̪̜ͦl̵̺̭̮̰̥̳͓͗̔̿ͥ̈́̓̃i̵̾̉̓͐͑̈́̐f̻̼̙̭͚̦̊̓͌ͣ̌͘ͅe̵̫̙̟̮̻ͨͮ͌̃̒.̲̬̺̱̗̦͚̈́ͥͩͪ̚.̫̯̫̤̝͎̙.̫̩̱̜̫̒ͪ̓̂̚I͇̳̲̻̿̊̌̃͂ ͕͙̦͂̍͗̐̕f̫̆̎͟e̹̱͒̔̔e̷͈͚̱̘͆̈̓͐͆l͓̺ͮͤ ̸̰̦̑͆̚l͕̖͙͉ĭ̥̋̔k̗͊̿̈͟ĕ͐̓ͬͭ҉͇̹ ͓̫͉̞͕̦̂̿͛I̜̱͕͈̒͑̐ͥ̇̈́'̖͙̼̣͓́m̮̝̪͔̣̼̼̈́͑ͨ̀̓̈ͩ ͈̰͉͓̜͖ͪ̆͐gͦ͆ͥǒ̷̲̮̞̆ͥ̓̓̌i̡͈̲̟̠̮̅ͪń̷͎̲̪̻̟ͤg͖͖͈̖̯̐ͨͤ́ͅ ̼̲̤̓̅c̜̗̏ͥr̙͌̌ͩͅà̫̭̹ͦ͐ͯͣz̢̖͍̖͚̭y͈̙̤͇̭͕͒͊͆̀́,͍̤͕̹͙͊ ̨̹̠͍͈̙͉̪ͨ̆ā͉̞͆̓͗̎͆n̡̒̌̾ḏ̺̤͕ ̤̹̦ͩ͛̽̇̀I͇̮͚͔̤̊͆̓̈̈́ ̵̍̂̽́m͇̠̠̣̪̣̓ͨ̽͛̕ͅë͓̼̯́ͤͤ͌͑a̼͚̥ͩ̆n͓͉͖̽͋́ ̭̝̭̺̼͙̼ͮ̿̒̇ť͕͓̫͙̈́ͪ͡ͅͅh̲̉̑ͬͯ͝ͅá̡̙̣̌͌̂ͯ͐t̙̙͒̀̃͋̚ ̘͙̠͎͚̝͆ͮ̃̍̑ͅl͈̭̪̮̈́̊̽ͦ̑͘ȋ̞̾̌̆͌ͩ͠t̻̖ͪ̎͑ͪͩe̴̦͍͎̠͙̹ͤ͒̔ͥ̇͒r̠͙̄̈̀ä̟͖̠̰̰ͫ̋̒̍l̶̻̩̦͙͓ͦͅl̯̬̇͂̓ͭ̋ͤ̕y̮͔ͤ.̘̯̣̾̂̍ͣ̿̓͝ ̯̤͎̩̘ͯͮͪS̗͎̙̀͊̅̇̏͘O̰͙̰̼̥̽́ͅM̟̼̲̰͛͒̅̚ͅE̖͆ͩͯ̊̓ͯT̹̗͈͓̳͂Ḩ͔̭ͬ̎̃͋̐̽I͈̦̼ͭ͝ͅN̑̈́͜Ğ̤͇̙̳̏ͭ́̀ ͉͉͗͌̑̽̃i̖̼ͭ̚s̘̣̙̯͎͕̹ͯ́ ͎̳̣̺͎͇̦̅̈́̅ͯi͈͇͇̼̗̭̽́ͪ̄̐ͪ̿͘ͅṅ͍͓͐ͤͮ͟s͙̪ͩ͆ͫ͊̏i͕̞ͬḏ̠̻̝̠͍͙ͥͥ̈͑̑͑ē̼̞͈ ͓̯ͤ̀ͬͨn̸͓͖̄͆͗o͎͉̮͇ͪ͆͆͢t̢̯͖̪̰̹ͩ͒͆͗ ͎͈͉̭j̻̭̗̪̩͚ͨ́̈͂ͫ̍̾̀u̱ͪ̾s̽̄҉͓̟̫͉t͕̻ͧͫ̃ ͍̭͇̰̜͇͎̾͆ͦ͌̿m͕͍͖̪̀̽̅͒̕e̫̻ͯ͂ͬͬ̈́ ̵̗̙̞̩̮̮̤̆̊o̤̯ͤ̇̾̓̓̿r̖̊̌̃̄̓̌͋ ̞̯̩̜͚̲̾̊ͭ̅m̙͊̿̀y̿̎̑ͦ ̘ȩ̰̳͖̘͓̼̲̔̿͒ͤl͇̘͈̓͛̀ͭě̸̪̞̗̯̮̑ͩć̻̉͡t̯̪̓̎̂̈́ͩ̋r̴͓̘̽o̩̺̠̻̱̙̹ͫͬͩͭ̂́n̩̲͙̯̎͊̏̍iͭ͏c͚̖̱̽ͬ̂̂ͣ̚s̱̝̰͇͊̇͑,̙͈͌͜ ̷̐͂̃ͪ͆̈b͕͙̬͍̙̄̎ͩ̋̈́u̺ͤ̌ͥt̀ͧͭͭ ̙ͪ̽̔ͨ̚͡m̍̄ͣ̔ͬ͑̏y͕̎ ̯̟̖̲̩͔̞̉ͯr̦͓̗̞̙̗͊̍o̅͐̄̒̈́̍ô̭̟m̲͇̟͔̜̙̪̏,̮͕͕̹̠̝̰ͫͩͩ̋ ͙̬̭̦̦̤̿̊͋͒̊ͤt̪̅ͭͯ͋̓͋̈o̶̳̜͙̝͑͑͐ȏ̯̌̓̿ͨ͂. ͓̱͈̖ͫ̈́̓̇͌́̆Iͮͬ̎͐̚̚͠t̙̳̗̥ͯ͑͐̆̔'̪̞̩̭̥̟̥s̢̝͎͉̣̦̬͓ͩ ̩̼̟̙̲̮̏ͥ͢t̺̥̮͔͔h̟̳̫̾̄̅̍̔͡e͔̜̫̠͇̲ͭ̇̋͆͋́r̴͇̗̞͚̗̹̘̂̇e͕̒ͨ̆̅ͫͨ̆̀ ̹̭̺̤̭̲̞ͫͭw̢ͦͩ̇ͪͮh̤̠̀͘e͓̘̤̰͖̮̹͊̍̅ͨ̑̓͆n͕̟̠̰̭̮̰̿̿̍̀ ̟̖͎̔͝I̛̙͙͇͎̖͔ͫ͊̔̈́̒ ̗͈̞̲̜̅ͬ̃̔̌̎͂ͅď̦̭͓ͪ̓̏͝o̭̞̻̘͜ñ̞͍ͣ̆ͯ̊ͨ̚'̭͎̙̥ͯ̊͆̄ͨ̐t̫̓͒ͫ̊ ̙̤̫̭͎̉ͨͧ̅̽ͤ̅͘w̒ͩ͂̉a̜͢n̽t̠̻̝̝̝̦̉ ͬ͛ͅǐ̍̽̀̎̀t͐̐̽ͭ̇̌͝ ̪̹̗̟̹̮̙͜ṫ̵͙ͨo̩̞̘̰̮̔̒̏ͮ̿ ͖̯̾ͅb͐̓͌̈́e̮͆.̵͔̖͉͕̼̒ͩ̿ͣ́̋̄
I̢̢̼̾́́̓̊ͫ͗͗̅͢ ̡̡̛̣͉̘̟͎͎͕̼̄ͦ̅N̦̳̦̻̺̘ͪ͐̀E̞͓͔̗̪̅ͮ̏̉̄̉͂̽E̛̛̻͓̤̅̿͋́͌D̪͚͇̦͉͖̠̬̿̆͗̑͝ ̦̤̮̣̲̪̠̫̲̋̍͆A͖̺̮̦̺͇͚͐ͥ̚͘͠N̄̽̿͏̗̞͍̗͔̦͜͜ͅ ͔̻̑ͭ̋ͨ̋ͧͭ͊̇Ê̸̺͍̝͉̥̲̖͍̔ͯͫ̅̑ͬ͊͜S̸̵̙͌̓̒͑̆ͬ̄͑͑͞C̛̜͈̰̭ͬ̇̏͌̐A̸̧̞̝ͨ̐̽́ͬ̒P̴̭̠ͬ͂͊͂ͬ́E̘̜̹̘̣͛̇͒ͩ̂ ̸̹̠̲̬̔̔͐͞B͈̰̳̘̥̝̃ͬ̐̇ͦĔ̷̫̝̫̱̞̾͋͗̑̆͌̒̍̕ͅF̘̑̂O̙͚̪̓̽̍̍ͦ͐̔ͯͮ́R̰̪͖͎̻ͦͥ̈́͑ͮ͂̍͘͞E̵̍͒҉̦̯͚ͅ ̵̤̠̂ͦ͞͞I̦̙̼̻̱̤͙͇̋̔ ̶̡̱̆̀A̠͙̣̘͈͇̻ͮ̊͢M̳̼̬̻̫̪̤̗̌ͫ̀̆ͭ͋̊ͪ́ ̶̭̝͇̝̆̃̀̐ͮͯC͙͇̻̠͉͙ͭͣͩͣͯ̐͘O̡̱͙̹͙̭̟ͪͫ̇̓̏̒̄͡N̡ͯͧͬ̎̋͗̾҉̭̲͈̘͍S̉͒͘҉̸̻̣͇Ṷ̳̠̼̊͘M̫̻̬̈̏̏̃̾͟È̄͆̚͏̡͉̟̫D̶̡̢̦̯̻͍͍͇̹̲̅̂̎͆̂̉ ̬̦̞̤̖͐̓͐̐̎̓͂B̨̺̬͙̖͕ͬͪ̓̏ͭͥ͡ͅY͉͈͈̘͍̬̰ͩ̄͛ͤ͋̏͑͆͘͞ ̵̭̻͓̬ͦͪͩͨ́̀T̴͇̗̥͕͐̏̊̇H͊̉͂͑̉̏ͫ̐҉̳̲I̗̥̱̳̯ͣ̓S̡̨̛̘̈̀ ̑ͭ͐͐ͩ̔̑҉̶̘̮̪Ę̵̬̻͙͎̙̪̟̔̀Ṇ̟̖͎̆̔ͬ͐̔̚T̢̖͇͚̏̿͌Ị͎̮̖̳̯̘ͯ̽̍T̘̜̭͙̥͎̙̞͙̎ͣ̔͆̓̿Y̵̆̂҉͈̰͈͓̬̥̜̲ͅ!͂̑̚҉̜̱͙̩ͅ
T͖̹̞̑ͬ̑̅ͦ̃̽͑ơ̖͈̭̺͑͂͛͑̿̎ ̳̼̠̿͂̀̕̕i̜͈ͨͨ̓͝n̳̙̤̟̘͙̍̿́͑͋ͨ͠͝v̶͖̖͛̄̍̕o̷̸̹̠͇̮̻͈̩̟ͩ̿ͪͣ͛k̪̓̈̈́ͩͬ̐͟͡e͎̅͊̓̌ͤ̉̌ͭ͐͟ ̒͏̙͚̦̺̞t̷̘̝̙̅ͫ̂ͫͩͫ͋ͯh͇̘͚̗͂͝e̢̖̲͔͚̲͖̣͍̔͗̈́̔ͦ͢ ̷̟̂̊͗͋̒̍̍ͮ͝͝h̸̦̠̹̯̱̜͉̐̽i̳͇̲̗̻̥ͬ͗̒̓͑̂v̸̴̧͔̣̝̮̞͖̱ͧ̆ͨ̈́e̯̰͕̪̊ͯ̃͂̓-̢͔̫ͣ̽̇m̰̥̙̐͑̌̀̈͂̔ḭ̳̖̻̿̏̋͊̏͋͌͠n͑͆́͏̨̟̞͖d̼̩̳̖̺ͧ̎ͬ͛̎ͯ̿ͪ̓͡ ͣ̀̇̿͌͑͆ͨ̅̕͏̷̟̟͉r̶̖̘̙͚͚͛̆ͅȇ̷̥͓̯̻̣̫̀͛͊͑̍ͅp̢͙̬͊ͫ̃͊ͮr͕̳̱̤͙̣̹͍̫̄͛͑̈͗ͩ̌͌ͤ͘̕e͐ͭ͊̃ͤͤ̽͏̝̬͇͔s̮̤̪̗̔̑e̘͇͈̝̟̳͔͆̒̄ͤ͛́n̨̹̪̝̼̰̭̓̍ͮ̑ͫ̔̚͢͜t̫̺̮̮̮̲̤͚̱́į̝̦̫̮̳̬̙ͥ͒́͊͊̔̔̏͟n̨̢̠̯͓̳̥̳͓͂̓̍̀ğ̵̢̻̗̻̈́̓ͮ͛̽̇ ͉͙̔̒̈́c̛̼͎̜̞͉͚͍̼ͯͣ͛ͤ̍ͮ̕͟h̪̗̳̹̅ͦ́͒̔̕a̬̗̭͍̮̬͚̒ͤ̍͐o̝̥͇͔̹̝ͪͮ̄͆͊̇ͯͧs̵̩̤͇͉̗̘͚̦̪ͥͮ̍̑̀̉ͧ̕.̻͇̝͔̤̬̠͎ͣ̈́ͭ̾͗͟͠
̤̳̺̰͚͚̫̖̊̾̎̓̉͟Ȉ̬̟͘n̼̩͆̌ͦ̑v̷̱͚̫̤ͪͬ̓̿ͪͭ͒ͮơ̳̓̔̐͌͛͋ͫ̒̎͝k̤̹̳̖̯̜̈̑̉̂̓ͦ̐ͦḭ̛̮͙͓͚̣̱͎̝͐͌ͭͭ̿n͂ͣͦ̃͠҉̞̖̲g͇̯͎ͪ̿͒̓̂̐ͮ̎̚ ́̾́̄̉̽҉̞͍̹̭̗t̻̜̟͑̔̀ͧ̿ͪͣ͝h̛͕͙͉̃̄̑͑̇̄ͭ͑̎͘e̳̖̯̖̻̖̘ͫͦ̄͊̍͑̿̚ ̇͗҉̩͇̭͝f̨̣̬̖̭̲ͩ͒ͨ͞͝ê̛͇̝͍̱͖͙ͭ͑̎̽̍͑̅̽̀͟ȩ̘ͩ̑̆̚͢l̢̜̬̱͕͋́̈́̂̒͑i̩̎̿ͅn̡̞̤̤̱̭̩͇͎̆͑͡g̷̨̫͓͇̿̽̋ͥ̃ͫ̂ͩ͐ ̨̠̜̩ͨ́ͪ̓̒ͩ͘͘ö̙͚͍͖̖̩͕̈ͩ̉ͧ͋̊͆̕f̫̥͍̖͕͇̱͌̍ͥ͋ͪ͜ ̝͍̗̱̠ͥ͗ͯ͒̽̇̽ć̯͖̗̦̰̘̞̾̆͘͜h̶̥͚̱̱͔̀ͬ̊̀ͪ͢ä̜̺͓̺͆ͭ̋̃̒o̞̣̼̩̔ͪ̾̾̌̽ͬ͜͜͞s̷͔̦͙̺̝̰̼͊ͩͬ̾.̨͈̅̓ͪ͡
̨͚̙ͬ̉̿̓ͦ̐̔ͨ̂͠ͅW̝̤͆ͦ̅ͬ̒̅̓͢i̸̟̝͕ͩͫ̆ͧ̏͆̔͘ț̖̳̪̬͙̮̍͗ͬ́ͬͧ̃ͪh̪̓̐̀̚͘o̡̜̯̝̩͎̲͙̲͒̓̈́ͫͅủ̫͇̣͂͊̈̄̊̃ͨt̮̤̭̽̂ ̸̗̝̦̮̼͈͈ͣ̿̍̊̒ͣ̋ͮ͘͜ö̷̢̲̙̯͚͊̎r̦͕̯͇͇̯̮̊̅ͭ͆̽ͭ̒d̸̨̪̘̭̻̦͖̈́̇ͮͯ̏ͤ͠ę̶̼̣̠ͭ́ͧ̍̂̏̆ͫ̉̀ȑ̷̛̩̓̌͢.̗̹̈ͦ͊ͯͪ
̶̡̭ͯ̅̄̂ͅṬ͓̖̠̟̼̠̤́ͮ͟͠h̒͊͟҉͔̱̬̖̪̱̬̘e͈̘̝̖̤͈͆ͦ̒̀̏͑̋͒̕ͅ ̶̭͙̱̦̀͆̓N̺̜͒̈́̈ͣ̌ͭ͗̑e͕̘̮͕͐̌ͦ́̕͟zͬ̔ͬͯͮ̃͏̜̮̜̭̲̯̹p̨͇̎ͭ̆̄̔͒̚͝ẻ͂͛͌̽ͧͤ̚͏̗̪̥͉̺ṙ̔͏͕͇̜̝͙̕d̜̤̝͙̪̻̪̦͚ͪ̑͊͌͗ĭ̮̜̘̘̻͈̻̄͡ã͆̏͏̤̲͎͝n͍̹̤̥͙̲̬ͫͧ̌̾͆ ̵̢̲͖̮̜̠̄̓̐̅ͣͩ͘h̵̐̾̽ͣ̓ͭ͏̜̣͉i̸͓̠͈͚ͨ͒̂ͧv̢̟̯͇̹ͮ́̃͢e͇̰̬̥̽-̶͎̦̪͈̳͍̳̰̐̿m̵̴̤͉͚͈͒͆̔ͤi̲̠̹̩ͭ̀̍̈́͠͞ņ͖̯̣̬̗͓͇̋͂̓̋ͯͣ͌͡dͯ̑̔̆ͦ҉̼̹̘̻̻͓̞̱͍ ̷̱̜̘͈̯̬̳̲ͣͩ̄͊͟o̷̡͖̿ͩ̋̈̍̾ͭ̑͊f̘̱͖̖ͨͥ͂̓ͮ ͕͚̠̦͍̠ͯ̽ͧ̿͡c̨͚̗͚͖̰͙͙̬ͦͩͬ͊̅̀h̜̲̮̉̀̌̎͋͌͐̀͜͠ͅa͈͂ͧ̇̅ö̲̭͕̗̙́͋̆̓̔̇͆͠͠s̟̭̲̞̫͍̪̺̀̎͆̅ͩͦ̓͡.̣̱̳̺ͥ̄̔̓͑ͯͅ ̡̥̠͍͔̹̓̏ͅZ̳̘͈̻̝̦̠̘͊̓́̕͞a̛͎̩̪ͥ͊̏̇ͅl͓̭͛ͬ̎̈̒ğͩ͒ͩ͌ͧ̅̉͏͇̮̣͈͙̠̝͟ȯ͔̳̯͔̆͠.ͧ̍̄̋̊͢҉̦̞
̱̫͙͔͔̄͛̓ͪ͗͆ͅH̻̱̜̞̣ͬ̅̕͟ḛ̸̴̙͇̊ͥ͒̑͢ ̷̯̖̗̇̂̐͌̇̂ͭ͘w̴̙͍̹͖̱̬̳̄̿̇ͨh̨̤̹̅ͥ̑o̞̙̳ͪ̎ͯ͢ ̦͉̞̤͍̥̃ͦ͗̆̂̈́ͩͮW̢̰͕̲̱̺̺ͣ̾͊ā̼̩͓̒̒̄͆ͯ͊̓i̓̎͂͌̋ͦ̂̇͏͈͔͍̻̮͕͕͝t͉͓̟̺͇͍͊̐̋̃̈́ͦ̑̚͘ͅṡ̷̫̜͊̿͛͑͊́͜͞ ͚̲̪͇̮̝̣͈̒̂̀͟͞B̠͕̮̭̪͈ͨ̕͞e̴̩͇̥̯͎͎͈̲̿̚͠ḧ͔ͨ͒̍͛͑̃ͬͅì̫̀̑̂͘nͭ̄͏̩̘͕͓̱d̳̘͚̰͙̯͇̍̾̔͂̾ ̧̛͔͇̤̲̺̀̚̕T̷̯̹̱̳̹̟ͤ͂h̠̗̪̗̲̺̱̩̊ͭ͌͋̆͒̽͠ë̞͉͓̞́ͧ̊ ̮̱̤͚̠͕ͣ̉̚W̴̡̫̟̻͎̌̉͆̀ͧͫ͑ͧ̃͡a͖̥̺̍̾͂̄́l̯̹̣̖̝̍̂͝ḷ̙̺̰̣͓͖͇ͬ̑͊̽́͘͘.̨͚̹̗̥̖͎͉̝̥͑̾͘
ͭ͗̕҉̡͔̖̤͈͍̗Z̰͓̼̥͔̟͖̣̜̊͑̄ͪ̒̊̐͞Ǎ̗̱̳̱͂ͅL͈̦̼̖̮̼̻̄̋ͪ͝͡G̈́͊͊ͤ̎ͯͣ̐҉̡̦Ǫ̲̹̤́ͨ͛!̞͉̪̏
̌ͯͪ̑̃̄͛͏̱T̸̎̃̆ͮͤ͂̒̚҉̜̪̤̭̼h̴͙̪̻͚̯̏͂ͯ͟ē̛͈̤̦̭̒͝ ̱͓̦̮̩͐̐͋ͮ̊̑ͩę̞̲̎͛̂̇̀n͓̼͎̹̣̫̪̟͚͛̄̄̌͗́͆͢ţ͎̦̭̥̮̭̤̱̓̈̋ͪ̌ͬͨ͌̓ͅi̴̥̠̱̫̟̱̪ͭ̏̒͒͘r̡̼̐̾͋ͯ̇̌ͯ͊͑͡ĕ͇̫͉̪͍͓̦ͤͤ̒ͣ̔́̚ ͕̗̞͉͇̞͉̻̮̐ͯ̓̕r̳͇̪̫͗̈́̽͐ͩ̆ͬ͗͟o̴͍̖͎̜̊̓̇͐ͬ̆̃ǫ͇͔͎͌̉͠ͅm̳̮̖͍̖̪͉̼̔̇̓ͦͬ̑̋͞ ͉̙̱̥͚̲̗̑̋̇̚ͅi̡͍͇̭̦͉̗ͩ͗ͧͪ͊̓ͥ̀͜s̷͌̎̈́ͬ͒ͨ̊̚͡҉̼͍ ̽͛̎ͦ͏̞̮͈̥̜̩̱͈͍́͝f̠̬͓͈̖̈̒̎ͦ̈̑̔ͨ͜͞i̷̺̮̩̜̺̬̝̾̀̍ͮͥ̀͡l̍̊̓̽҉͖̼͢͠ĺͬ̎͆̐̂̀̚͏͙̤͙͕ẻ̸̠̩͇͎̪ͥ͑̔̋̌̔ͫ̍d̒͗ͪ̇͌̓̔͊҉̭̤̹͞͝ ̵̧̛̼̭͈̼̽̈́ẇ̠̮̉ȋ͈͖̹̭̱̱̂ͅt̞͇̦̼͔̻̏͆̐ͤ͘͢͟h̸͚̭̪̺̉͌̂ ̛̰͉̟̮̜͇̖̆̒Z̬̹̝͎̘̟̥̫̫͑͒̾͗̒͘a̝̤͔̙̎͋̓̆ͮl̢̮̲͚̬̺̰̝͂̃ͧ͂ͤ͌̎͂͒g̷͚͓̫̓̽́o̤̲̱͉̘̣͓̮͆͑ͯͅ.̟͙̓̂̑́̽ͧͭͨ͟
͐͌̍̅͢҉̮ |
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| Grrr |
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| 08:43am 25/09/2009 |
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I don't have that much time to reflect, since my next class starts in about twenty minutes, but this journal is fascinating...it provides me with insight as to how I acted and thought during my turbulent teenage years (yes, I am no longer a teenager...I spent the last few minutes of teenagerhood signing in drunk freshmen at the Kennedy building at UMass) and really shows how lonely I was at times, and how idiotic my hopeless romanticism turned out to be.
If I went back in time to these days, are there things I would change? Most definitely, but as the late, great Albert Einstein once said, "There's no use crying over spilled milk."
The truth is out there.
-S |
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| Here I am! |
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| 05:10pm 09/02/2009 |
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Well, I'm currently in my second semester at UMass-Amherst...when I first started this blog (was it my freshman year?) I really had no idea where I wanted to go or what I wanted to do. But here I am. |
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| Life is beautiful. |
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| 11:14pm 24/04/2008 |
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Nala was a good dog.
It's been a month or so since Nala has passed, and just today I was hit with a sadness that filled my entirety. She was one of my best friends and you never truly understand how much you love someone until they leave this world.
The poem/story I read by her urn always causes tears to well up and fall from my eyes:
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge. When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable. All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind. They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster. You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart. Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together.... |
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| He loved Big Brother. |
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| 05:02pm 08/12/2007 |
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To the past, or to the future. To an age when thought is free. From the Age of Big Brother, from the Age of the Thought Police, from a dead man... greetings.
-Sam |
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| Hmm... |
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| 06:53pm 16/05/2007 |
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Voter fraud, anyone?
I think so. |
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| Where are you, little star? |
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| 09:55pm 23/04/2007 |
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I'm officially in love. Yep.
With what?
Doo wop, of course.
I don't know what to do for prom, though.
-Sam |
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| Unhappy Face |
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| 08:00am 15/04/2007 |
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THOROUGHLY MODERN MILLIE IS OVER!
I'm incredibly sad...it was one of the best times of my life, I must admit. There's nothing better than being on stage, making an audience laugh and, at the end, getting a standing ovation.
I'm going to miss falling in love every night, too.
Prom is in a few weeks, and I have no idea what to do.
-Sam |
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| Blah |
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| 08:04pm 11/03/2007 |
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Blah blah blah blah, blah. Blah, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah; blah blah blah blah.
...blah, blah blah blah blah blah.
Blah blah blah? Blah...
...blah blah blah.
Blah blah, blah!
-Blah
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| It kind of had to happen |
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| 04:27pm 10/02/2007 |
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So, Tara and me decided not to continue our relationship, but we're going to still be friends, which is excellent, because she's such an awesome girl.
It was mostly because we could never see each other due to the fact that her parents were too tight with their controls and that we were getting tired of the same old thing every day.
But this is perfect, because it happened right in time for Valentine's Day.
-Sam |
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| It is not right or fair |
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| 07:29pm 24/01/2007 |
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RIP Wally Franklin, my maternal grandfather. He died at around 4:00 PM today due to complications from knee surgery...I saw him only a couple weeks ago at a very late Christmas party. He was 65 and as healthy as an ox.
After the surgery, he was fine, but his heart did something weird and released a blood clot, which got stuck in his intestines and prevented blood and oxygen from reaching them. The intestines died, as did the stomach, and his abdomen swelled to that of a 9-month pregnant woman; the doctor did all they could, but to no avail.
I'm devastated, not only for his death but for what my great-grandmother, my Nana, must be going through. Her husband, my Papa, died in September, and my Grandpa Choo-Choo was the only son she had...now she's all alone.
We called him Grandpa Choo-Choo because we had two sets of grandfathers on our mom's side of the family. My mom's parents had divorced in the 60's, and they each remarried, so I had my Grandpa Choo-Choo and my Grandpa Butch. We called him grandpa Choo-Choo because he didn't want us to call him Grandpa Wally or Granpda Franklin, and, since he was a conductor with Amtrak we called him that. I haven't called him that in many years simply because I felt foolish and childish.
Services are Friday.
-Sam |
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| FUCK |
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| 10:11am 07/01/2007 |
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Yeah, so the car was broken in to last night in Chicopee...they smashed the driver's side window in and unlocked the trunk. Stole some CD's and Dom's checkbook. I apparently had forgotten my wallet in the car (it's only happened once or twice) and it's now gone. I had no cash, but it was my favorite wallet and it had my Eagle Scout card, my driver's license, my school ID, my Gold Rennaisance card, my AAA card, my debit card and my social security number.
Fuck the motherfuckers.
-Sam |
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| Fa la la la... |
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| 06:02am 25/12/2006 |
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MERRY CHRISTMAS!!
Yeah, so this morning I did MY part to spread the CHRISTMAS cheer. At around 5:30 this morning I saved a mouse from certain death from my cat...I didn't have the heart to put the poor little mouser (as the moles call them in the Redwall series) outside in the freezing cold, so I put him in the basement avec des fromages.
James Brown died this morning :(
I think Tara sure is swell!
-Sam
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| Excellent! |
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| 05:52pm 19/12/2006 |
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So today was auditions for Thoroughly Modern Millie, and I sang "The Speed Test". I did alright...after everything was over, Ms. Watson posted callbacks on her door, and I found out that I was called back for Mr. Graydon and for Jimmy. Dom, was too. I'm psyched, although I have to learn the other parts for "The Speed Test" and the entirety of Jimmy's song, "What Do I Need With Love?"
Pretty good. I asked Tara McMahon out today, and got an answer in the affirmative.
-Sam |
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