Story: The Dog that Brought Monogamy (Chapter 2)

armadillo — Thu, 01 Feb 2007 06:04:39 +0300

“One more minute of this and I’m gonna explode!” I thought as I sat in the counselor office at my prestigious, community college. They weren’t accepting any appointments, and I needed to see a counselor, therefore my only option was to wait endlessly. It had been three hours of worthless waiting.

The Dog that Brought Monogamy

armadillo — Sat, 13 Jan 2007 02:00:22 +0300

I think I'll call this one: The Dog that Brought Monogamy
By: The Armadillo at Oasismag.com

Note: I wrote this one just a few minutes ago and I didn't really evaluate it yet. Just bare with me here and enjoy if you want. I'll keep writing if I get positive feedback, or if I get bored. Whichever comes first.
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Intro:

It's been a really long time...

armadillo — Fri, 12 Jan 2007 23:58:12 +0300

Hi there everyone!

She

armadillo — Sun, 14 May 2006 02:01:49 +0400

INTRO:

Every day, sitting in a dull building, with dull computer screens, blinking and burning my vision after the long monotonous hours…How is it that we humans have come to believe that this is the way to pay the bills? Why is it that we’re so insistent upon the payment of things, obtaining things, remaining alive with thick, juicy steaks and Japanese SUVs?

I don’t know…but I do it, just like every other American; living the American Dream. Only I’m not an ordinary American. Of course there are aspects of me that seem to be normal, but I think it’s just the fact that I have been conditioned, manicured, and seduced by the so called “status-quo.

An un-love poem

armadillo — Sat, 22 Apr 2006 06:02:06 +0400

It's been a while since I've logged on here...
Here's a poem to get back into the motion of things:

At one point in life,
I didn't have a damn clue
as to why all the greatest songs
and poems are about love.

And everyone probably has some
idea what I'm talking about!

You find someone and give them yer' heart-
And all they did was rip it out!
Then you turned to the music and song
(you might even have hit a bong)

"Feast or Famine"

armadillo — Thu, 23 Feb 2006 05:18:57 +0300

Every now and again
We feel as though
Some things never end.

I try to fight this…
But sometimes I feel
Like I don’t have a fist.

And when it’s over,
I realize that it ends.
Then I wait for something
To happen…

“Feast or Famine,

The Night I Sang the Unheard Song

armadillo — Mon, 24 Oct 2005 23:41:56 +0400

The Night I Sang the Unheard Song

The moment I first kissed you; I knew.
The way you tasted, the way you smelled.
The way you tried to hesitate;
The way you were held.
I trully knew that I love you.

It was odd, though…because I felt
As though I knew before I first kissed you.
Not knowing whether it would happen or not,
I fastened that feeling tightly to my heart;
The heart that held the unheard song.

Umm...Like Turkish Delight

armadillo — Fri, 23 Sep 2005 22:37:19 +0400

Umm…like Turkish Delight

I’m in your car, whilst you drive.
The feeling of love is so alive.
I know where I live and you do too,
But when we approach my street,
You drive on through.

“Shall we have a smoke?

Pool

armadillo — Wed, 14 Sep 2005 21:01:01 +0400

Try not to focus,
if you do, you might screw up.
Let it feel natural,
and "go with the flow!"
Don't be a poker!
Be a stroker...
Then you'll be sure to
get it in the hole.

BonkerZ

armadillo — Wed, 07 Sep 2005 01:42:04 +0400

So she knows how i feel about her. That was a quarter of the battle...I thought at one time that that was halft the battle, but it isn't. It seems to have complicated our friendship. Like, ordinary arguments between friends, turns into an emotional battle. I don't like to fight, well, not with words anyway...but I do it. I suck!
Yeah, I belittle myself a bit too. Sometimes I feel like I need to seek professional help. I'm on here because I need to vent much, I have people to talk to in real life - but I don't, and it's eating me alive.

3rd Part to the story

armadillo — Sun, 04 Sep 2005 01:02:19 +0400

I don’t feel like explaining the mini-road trip to her house, as describing the disgusting, driving habits of my fellow Californians, would easily become redundant. Therefore, I’ll only briefly say, that I almost died again on the way to her parent’s house. It seemed to me that something was trying to keep me from her…or maybe that was just my over-active imagination.

I pulled up to her place, around three, which was a lot later than I had expected. I was irregularly nervous about seeing her again and my stomach was all in knots. I had a familiar feeling of nervousness; it was the same feeling I got the first time I pulled the lap-bar down, on my first up-side-down-roller-coaster.

Still w8tin for stories, so I continued to part 2

armadillo — Mon, 29 Aug 2005 21:31:00 +0400

Okay, so I know I didn’t really tell you too much about that fantasy I was having and I know you’ll have to forgive me, as it was just as big of a tease as all my dreams are. You know how you get those incredibly intriguing dreams, where you’re just about to get what you’ve wanted the entire time, then reality smacks you in the face and it’s time to go to work? Yep, it was one of those mother-4[_]Ck3R$!!!

Sick of w8tin for stories, so I started one

armadillo — Sun, 28 Aug 2005 21:25:51 +0400

There she was, staring at the unrelenting mouth of her college professor; trying hard not to look bored. I didn’t have the same determination, as I had casually browsed the classroom with my plain, brown eyes, only to have them fall on her again. It was only the second day of class and I had not yet met her, but somehow, I fell into the habit of watching her often. Her hair was brown, her eyes were too, but she was no where near plain. She had one of those classy, silver-screen actress looks, like Audrey Hepburn, but hotter, in a way I'd never seen before. Suddenly, the unexpected happened…She caught my stare and smiled. I got nervous and looked away, only to hear my name called loudly, as though my mother was reminding me to do forgotten chores. “Gertrude McKinley! That is your name, no?

Your favorite color

armadillo — Mon, 08 Aug 2005 00:12:26 +0400

You know that crayon in the box,
That hasn’t been sharpened since you opened it?
Your favorite color;
the one you
Always use for the sky-
Even though it looks
Nothing like it?
That small, blue crayon,
Weathered by masterpieces.

That crayon is me.
Imperfect.
Unsharpened…
But you love me anyway.
And I see the way you look
At the white crayon.
Perfect in everyway.
Unblemished;

Hurse

armadillo — Thu, 04 Aug 2005 22:20:44 +0400

Sometimes I wish I wasn't so formulated;
I wish that one day,
I'll abandon my schemes.
And if you really know me,
you could see
that all of my chaos
is scheduled and rehearsed.
I kinda wish this habbit would
just die and be sent off
on a hurse,
but I guess it could be worse.