She goes by the name of Carrie, and to a scant few, Carrie-chu. She's sixteen, 5'0", and pale. She lives in sunny Orlando, Fl, which feels quite like hell this time of year. She's currently a junior, and is attending Timber Creek High School. Video games tickle her fancy. Anime does too, but she's kind of out of the anime loop. She also likes to read, draw, and write. She's really quite nice. Still curious? 
hearing: Gorillaz playing: FFV (replay) reading: The Fires of Heaven, by Robert Jordan likes: minty soap, referring to people and things as fruit, orange soda, Chick-fil-A, her cats and hamster, sleep. dislikes: fourth and fifth period (Algebra 2 and honors Anatomy and Physiology, respectively), humidity, the smell of bacon, bad grammar and spelling. aim: slamdancingmog e-mail: click me 
friends, acquaintances, and cool people whom I don't know: Amy Angela Ann April Ashley Audrey Calliope Candi Chiri Diana Jen Kris Laura Lilith Lindsay Mylene Patrick Rinoa Rose Sara Shannon Taylor Yuki 
This layout features Serge and Kid from Chrono Cross. Images retrieved from. . .I forgot where I found them. I think it was the GIA. All intellectual property and layout stuff belong to Carrie Riles © 2001. Take anything, and I'll kick your bloody arse so hard you'll kiss the moons. Thanks, and have a lovely, mango filled day. ^^ Brought to you by Rose. And don't you forget it. « hardcore ? » scented // midnight rain  
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september 17, 2001, 11:23 pm We have a love-hate relationship, stress and I. I feel energized and productive, when drowning under a pile of work. I feel rather blah and lazy, when everything is done and caught up. What a twisted girl you are, Carrie. I've always prided myself on my ability to memorize things. I don't really think I'm that smart -- I just have a knack for retaining information. I think I had a little too much faith in my abilities this morning. Memorizing French poetry while cramming for AP Psych tests while helping your first period teacher organize things and set up robots = bad. No, actually. Staying home three days in one week with a course schedule like mine = bad. But I digress. I managed to do it all flawlessly, somehow. Of course, irony never fails to present itself; I didn't have to know the monologue. As long as the absence is excused. I wish all my classes did that >_<; French homework, Psych homework, friggin loads of Anat/Phys homework. I really was expecting to do more work in English. The atmosphere in that class is so relaxed. 98 on the vocab quiz, woo hoo ^__^ Why did I think "aggrandize" had an "s" in it? No, it's not like I don't like En Vogue. They were the shit, back in the day. I remember being over at someone's house, with my brother and Matt and a whole bunch of other people I can't remember. I remember having discussions about Mariah Carey, Whitney Houston, Celine Dion, and Gloria Estefan. That day is blurry, for some reason. Anyway, I just found it amusing that, after so many years, I still remembered that song. Work calls. Dammit.
september 15, 2001, 5:56 pm For some reason, the past couple of days, I've been horribly nostalgic or some such. It all started the other day, whilst talking to Rose. The conversation shifted to the subject of OJ Simpson. Yes, this will explain the previous quote/title. I was in sixth grade, I think, when the OJ trial finally ended. Our classroom door was open, because the air wasn't working and Floridian weather is nothing short of scorching. The principal of the school walked by, peeked his head in the door and said, "OJ Simpson's not guilty," and went on his way. Now, there was a guy in our class named Alex. He decided to yell what the principal said, for those of us who may not have heard. Somehow, as he was yelling, he fell out of his desk. So, it ended up as, "OJ Simpson's not guilty! AAAHHHH! *boom*" And when you're in sixth grade, that's the damn funniest thing imaginable. Poor Alex. He was teased often. He had this grey sweatshirt, and everytime he wore it, people would yell "ADRIENNE!" or they'd do the Rocky theme song. Speaking of the Rocky theme song, there's a car dealership commercial that comes on the radio all the time. It combines En Vogue's "Free your mind (and the rest will follow)" and the Rocky theme song. How either relates to selling cars remains to be seen, but car commercials are the work of satan anyway. Should I be frightened that I recognize, know the name of, and could sing a random En Vogue song? But back to the topic at hand. I was at Wal-Mart today (word to the wise: avoid Wal-Mart on Saturdays at all costs. You'll thank me later), and I kept thinking of the past. Fluffy terry cloth towels, used to dry Little Mermaid swimsuits that were saturated with saltwater. Stretched out on the backseat of the car, so we wouldn't get the seat wet. Big bags of Doritos and Cheetos that we devoured on the way home, while they turned our hands and fingers a lovely shade of orange. Large plastic combs, to help detangle what the saltwater had done to our hair. Cheesy eighties music that we sang along with at the top of our lungs. Foamy shower mats, in the shape of large feet. I used to dance on it, while I used an excessive amount of strawberry scented shampoo. Sitting cross-legged on fuzzy pink toilet seat covers, leaning foward as much as I could, while my best friend sat opposite me on the edge of the bathtub. We locked ourselves in the bathroom, and talked for hours about nothing and everything. We shared secrets in hushed whispers, and pledged to never part. The huge hill in the backyard we rolled down all the time. Getting soaked by the sprinklers going off every night at precisely 8:00 pm. The Paula Abdul tape I listened to so many times, it broke. Not being able to eat corn on the cob, because I was missing my two front teeth. Football, baseball, pools and stitches. Rose-bead bracelet birthday gifts that I still own. Deflated balloons from the tenth birthday party. Rolling around on waterbeds and slip-n-slides. I don't know why we always picked Angie's yard; she had huge oak trees in her yard, and there were roots everywhere. Someone would always put liquid soap on the slip-n-slide, and one day, someone slid right into the river. I've been in a daze the whole day, for some reason. It's cold and grey outside. By cold, I mean lower 70's/high 60's. Or, in Celsius. . .carry the two, add the nine. . .21.6? I don't know; I got bad grades in honors Algebra and honors Geometry. But I like the change in weather. For once, I'm not sacrificing animals to my air conditioner. Randomness: Diggin the new layout, Rose. Spike=yummy. The journal project looks promising. Beautiful writing is like. . .good steak, or spaghetti, or orange soda. You just want more and more and more. Chiri's comment about Dubya made me laugh. It's been an awful, craptastic week. And it's going to get worse from here. I would much enjoy throwing my Anat/Phys book out the window. Alas, unfinished homework and projects call.
september 13, 2001, 8:56 pm I don't really know what to say that isn't cliched and trite. Actually, I don't know what to say at all. My brain is functioning at a snail's pace or something. I still haven't really made the connection that this is real. I've watched the news and kept up on what's going on for the past two days. The connection just. . .isn't being made. As stupid as that sounds. I have family on Long Island, so I was worried for them, but they're okay. School was really relaxed yesterday. For once, Madame Veler said we didn't have to work, and we had a discussion. We did that in third period, too. A guy in third period, Ricardo, had family in the WTC when the first plane hit. One of his family members died, and one has yet to be found. About the flight numbers, Nostradamus predictions, etc.: people, please. The terrorists picked September 11th because it was a normal day. Not because the flight numbers added up to anything, or whatnot. Also, the "In the City of God there will be a great thunder, two brothers torn apart by chaos, while the fortress endures, the great leader will succumb. The third big war will begin when the big city is burning. On the 11th day of the 9 month that... two metal birds would crash into two tall statues... in the new city... and the world will end soon after." prediction is false. Someone made it up. It's a load of carp. That's like believing that Fidel Castro is responsible for brainwashing sharks into attacking people. Yes, that was in the National Enquirer or some such. Madame Veler told us about it. I didn't make it to school again today. A friend of my brother suffered a stroke, and is in the hospital. My brother has been there since last night, so I had no ride to school. It's been cold and rainy all day. It's starting to feel like autumn. No, Carrie, that's just the tropical storm. I just heard that Tropical Storm Gabrielle is off the coast of Florida and heading for Naples. ^^; I've been to Naples a few times. It was nice. The Gulf is so much calmer than the Atlantic, and you can find really neat shells with your feet. But anyway, tomorrow, Florida's just going to disappear or something. I'd run for the border and hide in Rose's basement, but Orlando International is closed. My grandmother is still in Wisconsin. Her flight keeps getting delayed. Lastly, people, be nice. Don't blame Muslims and Arab-Americans. I heard of people being attacked at Colonial, a nearby school. Take a deep breath, and think before you act. I sure as hell don't want to go to war. There are too many people dear to me that I couldn't bear to lose. If you're going to give blood, call beforehand and make an appointment. I would give blood if I could, but I'm not old enough and I don't weigh enough. If you're type O, go faster. =___=; I am going to suffer tomorrow. I don't know any of Le Dormeur du Val, and I can't remember if poems are supposed to be underlined or italicised. I couldn't study for AP Psych, because my books are at school. Lovely. Oh well. I shall prevail. Somehow.
september 11, 2001, 1:44 am *sways* Carrie says, don't stay home pretending to be sick because, inevitably, you will become sick. Now where did I place that trash can. . . Long story short: my comp was seriously fucked up, Sunday. Windows got hungry, and munched on a .dll file that, apparently, is very important. I couldn't open jack shit, so I got all panicky. Carrie also says make back-up disks periodically. So, I reinstalled Windows, and after some mishaps, all was well with the world again. Of course, I wasn't able to work on my project any, or make copies or whatnot. Another long story short: I didn't go to school today. Pick-up woes, general lazyass-ness, and many other variables contributed to this. There goes my day for September. Oh hell. Yay for making up various tests and quizzes, turning in projects, making up schoolwork, and debate team meetings, all in one day. I really am swaying. I almost fell out of my chair. I bought a Gameboy Advance today, complete with Mario Kart: Super Circuit and a pluggy thingy that conserves batteries. I always always always forget what they're called, the box is in the trash, and I'm too lazy and sick-ish and apathetic to go get it. Anyway, EB guy tells me that I had to buy the cord with the system and game. I hope EB guy wasn't lying to me or anything, because I bought the damn cord, regardless. Anyhow, Mario Kart is so much like the SNES Mario Kart, it's staggering. My craptasticness, caused by playing Mario Kart 64 many, many times, is evident. Of course, they left the feather out again. XP I miss hopping over half the course. The control takes a minute or two to get used to, and bah, I should have bought the light instead of the pluggy thing. I've heard about the backlight problems from everyone, and I pay them no attention. Yay for me. The funding for the system was provided by my brother, who now owns one of my kidneys and my soul. The rest of my life will be spent in debt and/or broke. Of course, I completely forgot about the Ani concert next month, as I plunked down $150 that was not mine. Oh well. . .looks like I'll be paying a visit to my old friend, the bank account. Hmm. I've been dwelling on things lately, due to a friend of mine being a complete ass. Why do I put up with people like this? I don't need this right now, with all my classes and extracurriculars and carp. The optimist in me says, if said person had a semblance of an idea of what kind of stress they put on me, they'd stop. The mean person in me says they should know, dammit. I am going to be sick. Damn you, school. Damn you. >_<
september 9, 2001, 3:48 am I'm awfully hungry, and I can't think of anything I want to eat. I hate it when this happens (it happens quite frequently). Oh hell, the psych project. There's always tomorrow afternoon. Well, I could start tonight, I suppose, since my body and brain refuse to synchronize and let me sleep. I've decided on "Outsiders: Study in the Sociology of Deviance," since everyone and their pet goat is doing "Dreams and Their Relationship to Events of the Day." Although I am curious to find out what the "Little Albert Experiment" was. But enough about that. This layout is bothering me, like tight shoes or an itch that I can't scratch. Really? No, not really, but it is quite irritating, and a glorious display of my lack of graphic editing skills. My graphics teacher must be hanging his head in shame. Not that I really care; he was quite an ass. And, of course, he moved on to Timber Creek, so if I decide to subject myself to mental pain and take more graphics classes, I will have to deal with him and his 80's sunglasses that he wears all the time. He wear his sunglasses at night. Cool points to anyone who recognizes cheesy 80's music. Why in the blue hell is the house so cold? Well, I suppose it's so cold because I'm wearing a pair of cutoff shorts that have been around since Christ was a child. "In 1920 he published his most famous conditioning experiment; the "Little Albert" study in which he produced, in a small child, conditioned fear of a white rat by repeatedly presenting it paired with the loud "clanging" of a metal bar. This conditioned fear was then shown to generalize to other white furry objects, including a Santa mask and Watson's own white hair (Watson & Rayner, 1920)." Buu. Behavioralism intrigues me so. I came to the conclusion a while back, after having been in an AP Psych class for two or three weeks, that I was not meant to be a psychiatrist. Thirteen to fifteen years of schooling and internships? Excuse me while I scoff loudly and obnoxiously. How goeth the moving, Rose? I haven't talked to you in a while. Damn school and whatnot. I need your address. ^^; Is Livejournal down again? Carrie smash! Oh hell, I give in, air conditioner. I will put on pants. *frowns at search engine results* This may be more difficult than I originally thought. The minute someone says, "Well, this is what you get for waiting till the last minute, Miss Smarty Trousers," I will smack said person in the back of the head. |