Royally Pissed Off.

To add to the anger I had when I left my house, door slammed, an old Russian man decided to make my day and turn into a very, very bad one. I was walking along the side walk, and a car stopped in an intersection to enter the underground parking of City Park; so instead of walking in front of his car, I decided to walk behind, because that is where I thought I was most likely not to get hit. However, the prick behind the wheel thought it would be funny to back up an inch every time I motioned around the vehicle. He did this about twice, and the second time I caught him laughing. I have never sworn to a stranger my whole life, until this day. This radiant fool would fool me no more. As I passed in front of his dirty burgundy SUV, I said some things that were not very nice, yet he didn't seem to care. He smiled and said in his rusty accent 'Oh, c'mon,' like it was some kind of game everybody plays. I continued to walk in pure frustration, ignoring everything around, every brushing shoulder and in particular every car honk. How he still had the nerve to pull up beside me, slow down and ask me if I wanted a ride, I do not know. However, that is when the middle finger came up, and a slight stink eye was shot. If looks could kill ...

Sincerely,
Kyla

jaggah-miestaa!

I feel like vomitting, my arms feel heavy like lead, I do not want to sleep.


Goodnight.

Sincerely,
Kyla

Ethan-pie-oh!

Ethan makes this picture so adorable. Snow you must go away! I'm already thinking about how horrible the walk to work will be. Iy yiy yiy. Out come the big rubbuh boots!

my favorite quote:

Finish, start, finish.

"There is a line between hopeful and stupidity."

"Another shitty day in paradise"

The palms trees are swaying and the sun is cascading on the balcony. I awake to a slight hint of sunshine every morning as a breath of fresh air lingers between the sheets. This is my first vacation with Payton.

There is a little taste of salsa on my tongue.

I can't recall what time it is, if it wasn't Christmas Eve I wouldn't be able to tell you the date either. I love these carefree days.

Shopping has been on the to-do list for the past couple of days we've been here. All the stores carry the same trinkets, necklaces, shot glasses, pottery - so it only comes down to bargaining when buying. I can talk my way into lowering a 30 usd ring to half it's price - possibly it's real worth. Yet I haven't snatched any goods. Even on vacation I still have this money conserving idea going on in my head.

The parents are on a walk, the boys are indulging in a game of Halo 3, and I sit - still out of words - at the lap top writing a well deserved blog.

Sincerely,
Kyla

7-11 saved my life

It's gotten as ridiculous as this: I calculated how much I can spend until my next paycheck without taking money from my savings. This is what it's come to: two taquitos fresh from 7-11.

I want to dance again.

This is my first 'November Post.'

Days are becomer shorter, some are longer. Days on end I find myself doing the same repetive things. I have become a maniac at cleasliness. I sleep, and naps have become a must I begin to wonder why I never liked them when I was younger. Every now and then I'll take out the frying pan, some ingredient I've never seen and throw it together with salt and pepper in hopes of a meal. I have learned to cook.

I'm only eighteen - maybe most eighteen year olds are already used to this. But I have no time for myself. The time I have for myself is when I'm on the bus in solitude, ignoring every brushing shoulder and 'BACK DOOR' that bellows out of the slow pokes who don't make it to the exit on time. The time I have for myself is ... never. I'm always pre occupied. What does the next pay cheque go to? In class my mind will wander from discussing the Truman Doctrine to 'how will I divide my money up so ... or how many more shifts at work can I pick up so I'm not digging into my pockets for money, I must have already made holes in them.' One second I'll think I have time to go up and down Main Street marvelling at the local designers, and the next minute that's scratched out and replaced by another errand.

This is my get away. Writing is my get away. Dance was my get away. I want to dance again.


Sincerely,
Kyla