My High School Journal

all writing on this page is © NORIEL ACORDA

Noriel Acorda

High School English notebook. some writings then, some writings afterward. You should be able to tell.

The Devil's spawn rose slowly out of the fog covered lake. His time for feeding had come to pass. He was out for blood and only the flesh of newborns could satisfy his bloodlust. He cut his way through the jungle; disturbing everything he came down upon. The spawn happened on a small village south of the jungle. It was dinner time. Soon his hunger would stop and then he could rest in the lake once more. The spawn slowly opened a little hut and began his feast.

.....

The lonely child cried for his irresponsible mother who was outside working the streets. She didn't care about the child, she called him a burden which the job gave to all the workers. She had to make money in order to suppress her craving for a little white rock. It was her savior and her destroyer. It gave and then suddenly, it took away. This last time, it took her life as well.

.....

The joys of the hunt enticed Shivaa and he enjoyed the killing sport. It was his duty to keep the unclean off the streets of New Delhi. It was he who originally killed the prostitutes of london with his original name, Jack the Ripper.

.....

October 12, 1992

If I look back at my life from this moment, I would have to say that I'm pretty happy with what I've accomplished. the past several years at Clements really changed my life. Whether for better or worse, I'll have to see about that. My freshman year at Clements I was a new student -- I didn't know anybody. I was still making calls to Alief everyday to talk to my friends. I was a nobody to everybody who was popular, but then again, I could care less of what the world clique thought about me. I had always participated in the activities of the "other group."

My sophomore year was much better than my freshman year at least. I knew more people than before, got my car, and drove to school on a regular basis. My friends Tom and Jamie moved to Sugar Land from Alief.

My Junior year was a blast; I knew even more people than my sophomore year and kept meeting more and more people. The parties started getting better and the company was more and more beautiful every weekend. At the end of my Junior year I hit a tree -- my grades were terrible and I was falling down a pit. The summertime took my mind off of summer school and with every party, every drink, I met more and more people.

I had changed; I could see that. Even though I joked around and seemed happy, I was wearing a false visage. Inside I was truly changed; I had seen and done all, but I couldn't stand the strain! I retreated from the world for one week and reassessed the situation. I thought to myself, "You're entering the next stage in your life and it's going to be Hell!" In order to survive, I had to adapt and change or else I would die under my weaknesses. I became oblivious to the pathetic trends and clique circles of William P. Clements High School. I withdrew from the high class social life of the preppy freak. I saw that social classes were being enclosed in barbed wire fences and I decided I did not want to be part of the bourgeoisie class which would be brought down in the end. It felt good to be away from them. Their assimilation into the sans-culottes would be stopped at all costs.

.....

October 19, 1992

Today the Sun rose and comforted the Earth; the morning air glistened with the happiness of two celestial lovers. They were bound together in the Beginning and will never be separated. The stars twinkled with their approval of the match recorded in the log book of the Creator. The Earth was warmed by hid presence and smiled with joy as her mate had greeted her as he had done so for millennia. The Sun looked at his soul sharer and grew into a fit of rage. His intentions were not known, but the aftermath was easily predicted -- the annihilation of the Solar System. Mercury was the first to die. He was the fastest planet, but could not outrun his father's dementia. his light was quickly extinguished. Venus saw her end coming quickly. She looked to sister Earth and cried. Her grief was heard throughout the cosmos and it was her tears that would later save the remaining planets. The Creator heard Venus' pleas for help and took pity on Earth's little sister. He traveled desperately toward the fast fading Solar System and arrived in time for the death of Venus. Her demise was exciting as it was horrible. Venus exploded in a ball of fire which expelled fire and debris towards her sister. The Creator moved his mighty hand in front of the Earth and shielded her from harm. With his other hand, He ended the Sun's uncontrolled wrath and thus saved the Solar System.

.....

November 4, 1992

So here I sit; a democrat has just been elected president and all I can do is sit here complacently complaining because I can't vote. I'm 17 and am one month away from voting age and if I could vote, it would be for la Rouche.

No reason why-- probably because he's a socialist. No reason why.

.....

November 4, 1992

all right new entry into this Senior journal. the last page was shit because I didn't have a pen. This time I do. There lies and undiscovered country; An unknown region of the universe which can't be discovered without the proper equipment; the proper vessel. There exists beyond the horizon a land of eternal peace & contentment; a land of happy unpredictable accidents.

it's a place where the blue sun shined through the thicket of clouds and flying gazelles. An island of eternal music.

.....

November 9, 1992

Young Joshua drove through the sleepless city at an unholy hour and met with strange new, although old, denizens of New York. Pot holes were laid out before him in a fantastical fanatical array of designs and patterns. The car shook angrily every time one of these slipped underneath the white wall tires. The old Chevrolet made its own music as it bounced and jostled its way through Mid Town. Joshua looked around cautiously as well as nervously. The Chevrolet was not a fortified castle; instead it was covered with a myriad of pathetically hilarious juxtapositions of all shapes, sizes, and colors. At one time, this car would have been suitable for the Smithsonian; now, it was just and obstruction to the eyes. It was no longer an item of beauty, instead it had become an object of disrepair. All who was Joshua's car were struck with feelings of disbelief, wonder, and convoluted forms of compassion. Joshua was brave. He set out to bring this car across town-- across bridges to its final resting place -- The Chipper Chomper Happy Wrecking Yard.

.....

12-1-92

Twisting and turning down the hall I creep as my clothes stick to my body and sleep. The floor bubbles and fizzes with glee as I step and stalk I trip and I fall on my knee. The world is alive the desks around me dance. I look all around and see tanks in my pants. the neon lights trickle their electronically activated luminescence down my shirt. The purple paisley patterns start jostling and jumping around on my chest as my socks go parading by themselves. The cows are a' calling while the man is a walking and the poor doggy gets none. The sounds come in from a hundred miles away; I hear a snake say, "I love You!" I hear the Nazi's & Germans at play, complacently burning a Jew. the sun is a' setting and it's getting fairly cold. While the moon is a' rising and making the night more old. So on we journey towards the gates of the sun. He awaits us there patiently for our journey's just begun. The man in the yellow hat deals out his drugs. While three little kiddies are killed by his thugs. They don't pay anything, not a damn cent. They use all their money on crack; very little on rent. So life goes on in the ghettos, every thing is just fine. The buildings burst with life when invaded by swine. The pigs don't come here, they're all too scared. 'Cause once they step in here, not a life will be spared. The lights of the gun blasts fill the night sky, while a dead baby's mother slowly starts to cry. Can you imagine the most horrid third world nation? Can you see it clear? Well it's all in America kids. It's all living here. the ghetto sells no oil, it has no precious gems, no computers, no industry. It just churns out the drugs for Uncle Sam, you and me. It churns out the drugs for Sammy & me.

.....

December 7, 1992

Effortlessly she swims slowly through my mind. Pow, bam, boom, would you like some fries with that legs? But look at that hair. The purple cow meanders down the fishing lure aisle looking for something to buy. The moon encircles the sun as the flashlight explodes in my hand, the raindrops pitter patter roll down my crying face. The cars screech to a halt to avoid the dominoes on the road. The pen moves slowly across the paper as the writer presses faster and harder. The effort involved in one golf ball moving and sixty miles an hour makes me wonder. The shoes shuffle silently across the shag carpet. My hand quivers as I stroke her delicate pale skin. The turkeys only respond to the correct mating calls, while humans will react to anything. In Italy the ground is dirty, water stays wet even if it's hot. Towels get wetter the more they dry. Deodorants make rashes. Chili makes you fart. Paint make things wet. Air tastes good, but so does my foot in your ass. The red sun settles in the hills below. The man streaks across the floor of the senate screaming, " F, U, N, E, X ?"

.....

December 17, 1992

She sits there in the pale moon light while I am sequestered here in this God-forsaken prison cell. There she is; A symbol of beauty. purity, and freedom. While I lie; a figure of ugliness, evil, and oppression. She is my opposite, my nemesis, my... life. The moonlight plays upon her hair as the pixies in the forest. The waterfall of golden hair flows from her crown and down her back. Her eyes contain the oceans; two perfectly formed spheres of blue rest in her head.

.....

January 4, 1992

DUTY:

Tell me who you love

and my name I'll volunteer.

Show me your cloudy skies

and I'll make them ever clear.

Tell me of your wants and your desires,

and I shall have them completed.

Show me your affection beside the roaring fires

and my love for you will never be

depleted.

Drippity drop

the raindrops fall

as they plummet towards the earth.

Splishiddy splash

the raindrops make

as they give the

chance for

birth.

The Kiss:

With eyes closed,

lips press gently,

hands hold tightly

start shine brightly

crickets sing softly

wind blows slightly

earth moves slowly

lips part hesitantly

eyes look deeply

and then no more.

.....

January 11

Held by gossamer strands, love is very fragile and light. Easily shaken and destroyed,

'tis a wonder it survives through the night.

Misunderstandings lead to fights, and when those fights become bad, very bad, they can kill relationships. Avoid misunderstandings and say what you mean when you mean it. Don't hesitate, or you'll not want to say it anymore. Make sure the other person knows how you feel unless you want to be taken for granted. This is hard to do, but don't reveal too much at once. But don't say too little.

Love is...

A fussy little balance

which must be made even

all the time.

The love on each hand

must equal the other.

Lest the love be spilled on the floor.

But then comes the moments of jubilation when you know that love is working between the both of you: You get butterflies, your hearts beat faster every time you see each other, that sort of thing, it's the ultimate feeling -- I mean, you're on one of the highest plains humans can achieve -- both of you care for each other and it goes beyond the physical.

Between the two of us

we share a magical thing.

It holds the power to move mountains,

start wars,

and make the heavens ring.

It is the love

between us

that makes

the universe

sing.

.....

What can you do when everything falls apart? You don't have to grin and bear it; no way. Seek comfort amongst your friends and try to forget about things, even for just a little while. For me, I'm trying to forget my problems about a girl who doesn't believe my love for her is real. We're drifting farther and farther apart due to a lack of communication and the constant threat of rumors. The sad thing is she listens to the rumors but has no idea about the truth. She doesn't like being second, but she always places her friends before me. She even places store sales before me! All I can say is that she doesn't possess the maturity to deal with our type of relationship. The truth is -- she has no idea what love represents. When you say, "I love you," a bond is created that is not easily broken. Even when things end, something still remains that can be rekindled. But she doesn't know about that. She leaves herself so open to rejection and disappointment. But when she has a guy who won't even think about exploiting her or mistreating her, she doesn't even realize it. I guess it's true -- the worse women are treated the longer they stay with you. Oh another thing, never let a woman know how much you really care -- it just leaves you open to get walked all over! Nice guys always finish last. Its the jerks who win. Why be a nice guy and have all the women respect you, when you can be a jerk and have as much fun as you want?

I find possessiveness flattering, but when taken too far, it becomes a nuisance. Your every action must be explained and accounted for. It's really sad when she can't trust you. That's when you need to end it. End of story. Open the bottle and melt the bottom.

.....

January 25, 1993

Vertigo's slinky arms are draped upon my body in various vile positions. She moves me and shakes me violently in the air. I am lost in Vertigo's spell.

A cold front arises from the east

and I've dreaded its arrival.

Its icy touch surrounds and

separates us with a glacial wall.

Hands of winter hold us at bay

and keeps us apart.

The setting sun offers no

hope and carries away

the warmth in our hearts.

I am lost in a situation in which I have no control. Every choice I make has the possibility of disaster, but it can also yield success. Helplessness does not sit with me well; I never welcome its arrival. The ever-changing environment flows and triggers deeply buried feelings and reactions which have not been used in quite a long time. So therefore, They lay rusted and unused. I must relearn my skills if I am to survive. Adaptation is the key.

Why is it,

when I want to

look at her,

she looks back at me,

and then I have to

look away

so that she can't see

me looking at her,

looking at me?

The more you say

"I love you,"

the less you

really

mean

it.

But the more you

show "I love you,"

then you

begin to

feel

it.

Oh how much easier love would be,

had we only Romance Meteorologists.

They would tell you which way the wind was blowing,

so that your love never gets caught in a tree.

So dumb is love, that it would be

a terror if it were any smarter.

Betrayal strikes deeply with surprise

and then stings and poisons.

Snakes are easier to handle.

You gently blow me an un-kiss as

I wait patiently by my window for a knock that will never sound.

The clouds dance gently on the sky

while hate tap-dances on my heart.

.....

February 8, 1993

Situation: Critical. Information: Minimal.

Pain: Unbearable. Outcome: Indeterminable.

What to do, what to do, what to do? So many

decisions, but only little time. She holds my heart

in her hands and releases more and more every day. Soon it shall drop to the floor. She says she doesn't know what to do, but it's apparent that she's already made her decision. Solitude is my solution; my only friend. It doesn't give me advice -- it just leaves me alone. She fills my mind with thoughts of love and hope, but all that occurs are actions of hatred and disappointment. it must end soon.

.....

February 15

Wow, what a weekend! Friday, I broke up with Melissa and then went to Galveston and returned to Sugar Land at 2:50. Saturday, I played pool in the afternoon and prepared myself for a night full of Mardi Gras mayhem.

We left S-Land at around 4:45. The festivities were just beginning. We were all hungry, so we walked down Seawall Blvd. in search for some form of repast. We made it up to the festival gates and decided to pay the five dollars for a better look at the floats. After the parade ended, we ventured to the Strand and joined the throng of crazed islanders as they danced and flashed body parts for a string of plastic beads.

The most important part of this weekend was when Melissa came over and we more or less patched things up and decided to try it once more.

.....

February 23, 1993

She is the object of my hate. She dwells in droves of columbines. I look to her and I see red. She is the devil who has been sleeping in my bed.

Seeing her, I feel cold. I cannot stand gazing at her two-faced mold. Come again I will no longer. Porcelain pale skin makes me shudder and flinch. Talk to me no longer two-face wench! Blessed are you with two visages. One, beautiful, that shelters kindness. The other, disloyal as the columbine, in all its hideousness.

Hatred justified by a love now nullified. Being normal is difficult with my back now punctified by poison stilettos. Venom flows through your veins, my love, and for my heart, my pride, which are all at stake;

I think it best to kill the snake.

.....

February 23, 1993

Object: Hate

She is the object of my hate

She dwells in droves of columbines.

I look to her and I see red.

She is the devil who has been sleeping in my bed.

Seeing her, I feel cold.

I cannot stand staring at her double mold.

Come back to you I will no longer

Go to Midian, you hellish monger!

Visions of porcelain pale skin

makes me shudder and flinch.

Talk to me no longer, two-faced wench!

Blessed art thou with many visages.

One, beautiful, that shelters kindness.

The other, disloyal as the columbine

in all its hideousness.

Hatred justified by a love now nullified.

Being whole again is difficult with my back

now punctified

by poison-tipped stilettos.

Venom flows through thy veins, my love.

And for my heart,

My pride,

All at stake,

I think it best to kill the snake.

.....

4-26-93

Coming forth from Midian unknown

the tribe of the moon dances under the starless sky.

Desperately hoping to find a new home

they search the Earth for a safe place to lie.

The children of darkness must constantly roam.

Around man's curious creations where they might die

from ignorance and stupidity of human kind.

"No one is a friend" They must keep in their mind.

Last Saturday, my brother and I went to go see a rated R movie, but were not allowed in because my brother was only 13 years old. This was pathetic... I'm 18 and so I'm his guardian for the day. They didn't let us in because of the language in the movie. Well, my brother knows all of "the words" and I see no point in their argument. They didn't want him to mimic anything in the movie, like their violence. Well then, they shouldn't allow children to see Aladdin because kids will think that carpets can fly.

.....

5-12-93

pencils and pens scribble away. with friction, comes thoughts and images. pens and pencils leave their mark on unwritten pages. fluid motions turn jagged and erratic. ideas are running out. brows stiffen under concentration and sweat begins to pour. watching clock hands move slower and slower 'til they finally and abruptly stop. the motions continue through painful and rapid. there's nothing to do, but to write. chairs creak and desks grown as the writers shift their positions. their only hope to change their stance is to change their whole way of thinking. music interrupts and distracts and derails trains of thoughts. a door remains open letting in more obstructions and takes the writers off track even more. writers illegally converse and disrupt. conversation, not vocal, but physical. conniptions and contortions become conversations as the writers start writing in air. but alas only the written word is revered and the lack of, causes distress. without the senior record written, many seniors will take a semester test.

the smell of chalkboards dusty chalk

the sound of schoolbells ringing

the steady hum of the overhead projector

the unnatural illumination

the sickly brown carpet

the rumble of other classrooms

the sound of scribbling pens

the sound of science desks moving above us.

the sound of the lot in the morning

the faceless clocks staring at space

musty halls and pitiful thralls all round the

school

all will be missed and many more when we depart

from the jail.