Cheri Zarvall's Blog (48)

Hospitals are fine, I suppose. They smell too clean, but besides that, I don't know what all the hubbub is about. Maybe it's because I have to go with my step mom almost once a month for her lumbar puncture since I was little, but hospitals have never bothered me. However, going to the doctors for your own checkup is a whole nother story. I hate some man, or woman, trying to see what makes me tick. I hate the shots--I'm deathly afraid of needles, I hate the lights they shine on you,… Continue

Anyone else think those old men dressed as Santa Clause who have little kids sit on their laps are weird? I like the mall; the people, the stores--like Hot Topic, Zumies, and Spencers, the food court--which always smells like greasy burgers and Chinese food, the weird stores that sell homemade bags, hats, and incense, and the fact that you can get any body part peirced if you go to the tat shop there. But around Christmas, you feel suffocated, and all the people you happen to hate show up… Continue

What is it that makes humans love? That makes us crave the companionship or another warm body in bed? And why, exactly, are we so heart broken when the connection ends? I've never gotten the whole thing about falling in love. I mean, lust, I can get. As animals, that's how we are programmed. But, what makes our hearts beat fast, our palms sweat, and our minds to reel out of control? I love my family, but that's not the same love as a husband should love a wife. My family is very dear to me, but… Continue

It's a day where gays, lesbians, trangenders, and even straights are heard. Or, rather, silent. For those who support, we are silent; we represent those who cannot stand up and speak, and those who have suffered hate crimes and abuse. For the braver ones, painted stitches across our mouths symbolize our silence. I am one of those people. I am silent, but not invisible. You see the paint on my face and know who I am and what I stand for. I am not beautiful or gorgeous, but on this day, I turn…

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Rain falls,

spin round, spin round.

Blood and bodies,

hit the ground.

Pride and wrath,

dance and fight,

on light feet

this red-hazed night.

Black winged angels,

with sharp toothed grins,

cheer on the bloodshed,

and our sins.

Dizzy now,

shots fill the air.

Bleeding wounds,

scorched black hair.

Take Death's hand,

he'll save you here.

You leave behind this…

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I don't drink booze or smoke pot--it makes me feel paranoid and out of control, plus drugs are stupid. So when everyone's grinding up against one another and drunk off their asses, I'm the chick standing in the corner wondering what the hell I was doing there, trying to have fun but really just bored and tired. My cousin once took me to a party, but become pretty pissed when I told her friend to F-off when he tried to cup a feel. I don't think she got the fact that I was…

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Okay, I suppose the place is great if you're a size -3 but for those of us who are skinny challenged? Not so much. Not for me, anyways. I don't like seeing the skinny itty-bitty mannequins in the windows, wearing nothing but a blank expression and some lace thingies that can't even be described as underwear. And for us poor people who can't afford it, it sucks pretty bad. Seven bucks for a pair of underwear? I get a packet of ten for the same amount. And, okay, they're ugly and bulky and only… Continue

The First Stage: High school. I don't remember there ever being more or even as much drama in my life. I'd like to walk down the hall without seeing a rival or one of my more annoying friends, but of course that's impossible. And the cliques, or whatever they're called. There's the Mexicans--and some of the Mexican'ts; the stoners--who always smell like ass, potato chips, and dead skunk; the goths/emos--sometimes the guys look like the girls, the girls look like the guys, and the…

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