Left over.....

Ung.....

I took a personality test the other day in Health class.... It wasn't the first test like that I have taken, because being the highly inquisitive person I am, long before the other day did I question my personality disorders.... Uh, scratch the "disorder" part. I mean my personality.

(Although I did once sit on the computer --for about three hours, I think--just looking up random mental disorders and convincing myself that I had at least eight of them... Oh come on. Don't tell me you've never done that. Seriously. It's like googling your name. Everyone has done it at some time or another. I proudly admit that I am, in the renown words of Rick James, a "super-freak.") (And, yes. I DO have that song on my ipod. I am, in fact, playing it right now.)

(That funky beat...Aaaahhwww, Nawww.... (Translation: That was my very sad attempt to phonetically write out a funkified, "Oh, no." I guess I'm just too Norwegian to do it correctly.))

Um... What was I talking about? Oh, right. So in all of the personality tests that I've ever taken, my results have always come out to favor the introverted side. Except for the one that I took in class.... That one said.... It saidd..... It said that I was an Extrovert! (gasp!!!!). So I just figure that the test was rigged or inaccurate or some wacky conspiracy theory.... You know how I love conspiracy!

So I'm basically writing to tell you how hung-over I am. What they say about being drunk on life...well it's true. What they don't mention is that you can also get seriously wasted from life, if you're not used to it.

If I said I really hate people sometimes, would you think I was a horrible person? Because quite often I find myself thinking... Hmm. People.... I HATE people. Grumblegrumble...

Yesterday I saw, spoke to, listened to, generally interacted with, lots and LOTS of people.

Now, this isn't the first time it's happened, but I always forget about the after effects and end up getting screwed anyway. Um... What I mean to say is that I go and have a really great time with a lot of people, and then... Oh wait. Uh... No. What I really mean, is that...

Okay, so say I go to a party or a dance or something. And there's a ton of social interaction. The introvert sort of diminishes for a while and the extrovert is coaxed out of it's lovely shell (What color is YOUR introvert shell, huh? Mines purple with Anarchy symbols all over it...Aaaannnd That wasn't really relevant.). Well, the next day I'm kind of stuck half in, half out of that purple Anarchy shell, and I don't really know what to do with myself.

That's where the hang-over comes in.

And I can't take any aspirin for this kind of head ache.

Am I totally off my rocker? It's possible... What I'm saying is kind of bazaar.

This time I thought I would try to ween myself off of people slowly, gradually, so that I wouldn't kill my alertness all together to begin with. But that only aggravated the into/extrovert inside, and it ended in a screaming match between the two sides (inside my head of course. Lucky me.), and now I'm exhausted, and I'm probably going to be all sassy tomorrow because I won't be up to using my filter system for all of those sassy (and sometimes borderline mean) comments, and I definitely won't be up to sparing any one's feelings, soooooo....

Look out Tokyo! Here comes Bitch-zilla, and with her is her trusty sidekick Sir Casm.

Okay, okay. Bad joke.

And now I just wish that I really was an extrovert, because any self-respecting extrovert would just shake this off like a pair of static filled underwear clinging to the inside of their pants leg.

I'm going to bed. And I'm wearing sun glasses to school tomorrow, damn whatever anyone else says.

Oh, and thanks for reading, as always.

Playing for 24 hours....

Who needs MLIA when you have me?

Today was the craziest, the most fun day I've had in a really long time. It was also really really weirdd...

I'll give you some background: I decided to participate in the 24 hour play put on by our school by the Thespian (TH-espian. NOT Lesbian. I just wanted to clarify) Society. It's this little thing where blah bluh blahblah bluh BLAH! I'm not going to explain. If you can't figure it out by the name, then you're stupid. Anyway, so I decided to try out this counfangled 24 hour play thing, thinking it was something to do for the weekend. Little did I know that it would be much, MUCH more.....

(Ominous pause!)

So, the morning actually wasn't that weird. I arrived at the school at the predetermined time, and I got a script for the play I was going to be in. Oh man. I suppose you couldn't count this as the first weird thing that happened.

If you know me at all, then you know that I'm a preppy, self-absorbed, technology obsessed Republican who supports all kinds of crap like Anti-Abortion laws being passed, The Christian Identity Church, Sarah Palin (who is a wonderful advocate for Alaska), and steak and potatoes.

At this point, you must be thinking to yourself, Wow, this is nothing like the person I know. And if you are thinking this, like I hope, then you are ABSOLUTELY RIGHT! I just wanted to see if you were paying attention. Anyway, all of the things I listed above are the exact opposite of me. (I'm not preppy, {I am in fact a closet punk}, I am not really self absorbed {although some would argue otherwise}, I am actually really bad with technology {Hey, can anyone tell me how to load pictures onto Facebook?}, I am a Democrat {woo, baby!} who is completely pro-choice, I think the Christian Identity Church is a cult, and Sarah Palin is a ditz who I am ashamed to admit is from the same state as me.

So when I found out that my role in the play was a morticians Goth daughter, I was naturally thrilled. Finally I had an occasion to pull out all of my goth clothes from the closet. But it ran deeper than that: this role was made for me, whether it was know at the time of the writing or not. I was goth, I loved twilight (more than anyone could know.... actually, the password to my computer account is still EdwardCullenisaHOTTIE.... Aannnd that was probably more than you needed to know.), and I am by nature a sinister person. Dead people are prreetttty sinister.

So the fun commenced. But like I said, nothing really weird happened until around lunch time.

I wasn't really going to do anything for lunch, so I decided to go to Bolivia Sniff-Terrain's house... (Uh, this is definitely NOT an alias for Olivia Snortland, but if it was, but it's NOT, but if it was I would apologize to her for the bad alias. It's late. I'm tired. It seems funny now, but it will be a train wreck in the morning.) Anyway, we went to her house, and her older sister was there, and her sister's two friends.

I know what you're thinking: Um...That's not weird. What are you smoking.

(In reality, I actually don't have a clue what you're thinking by this point. But I'm generally a good guesser.....?)

They were all sitting around the kitchen table wearing Star Trek uniforms (I say Star Trek because I actually am a big enough nerd to tell the difference. Thanks mom.)

Yeah. That's weird enough in itself.

I'm going to skip the rest of that little visit, because..... Well, no explanation is needed. Let's just leave it at that.

Next thing that happened to me. It's a story:

********

It the play that I was in, I had to make out with a make shift Edward Cullen blow up doll. I know, I know. Ha. Ha. (Hehehehehhe). We were practicing, and it was the first time I had rehearsed with the blow up doll (which was actually a sex toy from Spencer's. He now lives in my room, and there will be pictures to come. I'm thinking about making him my official mascot.) And, naturally, I kept cracking up. Seriously. Like little-girl-who-has-just-been-told-a-super-naughty-joke giggles.

(Speaking of jokes: How do you keep a monkey in suspense?)

Anyway. I decided to go into a practice room so that I could practice and get all of the laughing out of my system. So, uh, I went into the practice room, and, ah--well, carried on. I can't give you exact details, because I never kiss and tell, but you can probably gather what kind of "practicing" I was doing.

So, I'm "practicing," and then I look up, and Mr. Protruding Bellybutton is watching me through the window of the Orchestra Room. (By the by, if you didn't know, Mr. PBB is the Orchestra Teacher.)

He gave me this really strange look, which I can only assume had to do with the fact that my make shift Edward Cullen blow up doll was on top of me and smeared with my chap stick.

I ran.

***************

So, that was undoubtedly the most embarrassing moment of my High School Career. I can only thank GOD that I'm not in Orchestra.

So it was pretty chill for the rest of the day... I had so much fun I thought my brain would explode (which doesn't really make sense, because why would fun make your brain explode?)

I got to wear my goth dress up clothes, which was kick ass. Except i had a hard time getting the make-up off, and when I washed the red styling gel out of my hair, I freaked out for a second and started examining my body for the source of the bleeding. Ha ha. Oops. Sometimes I just don't think.

All in all, chalk this up to a good experience. I'm glad I did it because....

Are you ready? This is where I get all soft and gushy and sentimental on you. If you don't think you can take the love (That Means You, Lord Voldemort)... (Oh my god, I'm such a dork), then I advise you not to read any further.

I'm glad I did this because I met new people, and I became comfortable around some other people that I knew before, but never really talked to much. It was liberating to be around people who are similar to you, but appreciate your special bran of Au De Unique (hey, that sounded French!). I know I could have loosened up even more than I did, but for an introvert, tonight was pretty. damn. impressive. I gotta say. I also talked a lot. Or, maybe it wasn't that much but it felt like a lot to me. I shared probably more than I should have/was wanted at the time. But oh well. No Regrets!!!!

I need to sleep. Goodbye. Thanks for reading. Go kick some (metaphorical) ass!

Okay, that was kind of an abrupt ending, I know. So here's a little something to soften the blow: This entry has become a can of sardines on the empty shelf of a kitchen cupboard. Crammed full of sardines (in the metaphorical sense: Personality), and you really don't want to eat it, but since it's the only thing in an empty cupboard, you really have no choice...

Um. Sorry. That was a really weird metaphor, and when I started it, it make sense, but now.... I'm going to stop this entry before it becomes incriminating. Or, uh... any more incriminating than it already is.

Hot tip: Watch "The Labyrinth"with David Bowie in it. One of my all time favorite movies. Of. All. TIIIIIiiiime.!.

Sad Song

This morning I woke up to a song that I thought I could handle. I was wrong. Ger..


I'm not going to go all philosophical on you, don't worry. Not much anyway.

When I'm in this kind of mood, it's really easy to slip into a weird, completely out-there rant that I have no control over what-so-ever. It's a little scary. Okay, okay. It's really scary.

People are weird.

........................


...... .......... ............ ..... ......... ...............


Oh! You want an explanation. I guess I can do that.

Random Fact: The brain is hard wired so that it doesn't matter if the letters in words are scrambled. As long as the first letter and the last letter are the same, someone could read a whole book just fine without the words actually being...well, words. It would be annoying. REALLY ANNOYING.... but, well... I guess that would be the only problem with it.

Example: Hlelo tehre my nmae is.... wlel taht deson't matetr. I'm spaeknig in jbibreish... and wirtnig in it too.

Blahh. That was a bad example, but whatever.

Anyway, people are weird. That wasn't an example, but I guess you could count my random topic change as weird behavior. But think about the human being. They are all the same, and simultaneously all different. Their voices are unique, as are their minds and the way that they think. Seriously... Think about the way you talk in your head. Do you think that anyone else in the world talks like that in their heads? (Uh, head. Singular, not plural. People may be weird, but they don't have multiple heads.)

Whoa, there. Come back to the point. I always stray from the point.

They don't look the same either, I guess. But that aspect isn't as important to me. Their behavior, however, is. Moods, for example. I know it's supposed to be a chemical reaction and all that Polka, but go beyond the science for once. A lot of moods are triggered through certain things. A thought. A conversation. A good book. A really, really sucky movie. Injustice. Love. Seeing something. A snippet of music. Any one of those things could make or ruin some one's day. And I personally can't except that all of that is controlled/caused by hormones in our brains.

Random Fact: Did you know that the body actually weighs less after someone has died. Uh, I mean to say that If you're a person (which most undoubtedly you are... I hope?), and you, uh, die (bear with me here...), then your body would weigh less than it did when you were alive.

Yeah, that creeped me out too. Sorry.

But the point of that macabreness was to highlight the fact that the soul weighs something. And if our personalities (i.e. our SOULS) are caused by chemical reactions, then how would it make sense that.... OH! You see where I'm going with this.

Wait a second. You never said anything about personalities being chemical reactions.

I know, I know. But it really wasn't that far of a leap.

Another weird thing: personalities. They are kind of a miracle, minus the kind of part. Even people that I hate (yes, there are a few...), and even the total creepy stalker weirdo's out there... They all have personalities. ALL of them. And I have to admire that.

Our world, that we've created, through all of our multiple personalities (I mean all of the different people who have personalities, of course. Not all of the people who have multiple personalities), have weaved this raging ball of chaos, and as chaos so often does, it has gotten away from us. We forget, that although we are different, we are also the same. And then we judge people, and are mean to them, and think we're better than them, and all of those things don't make any sense to me, NO SENSE AT ALL. Who are we to judge? That's one of the most cliche statements, but it's probably one of the truest.

Another thing about moods: I forgot a couple of things, but I kind of touched on it when I said conversation. Interaction, with all of the people around us, all of the others that have helped to create this place that is no longer ours, can change a person forever. There are some things you never forget. Spontaneous moments that stand out in your mind clearer than everything else. It might be a smile from someone or a greeting or some really kick ass advice. It could be help offered. Whatever it is, it does make a difference, and if everyone in the world committed one act of kindness (I know that word is used a little out of context, but I mean it to be that way.), then the world would be such a better place to live. But so many people think it's uncool or a waste of time to reach out to somebody. And that's a shame.

And then you get to over compensator's who are to kind and then it's just annoying because of how saintly they are. But that's besides the point.

Wow. I've really gotten off topic haven't I? Jeez. Even my exercise bike rant wasn't this bad.

Um... Well, this is actually a good example. This blog entry is like the world, and we've based everything off of certain fundamentals, but then it spins out of control, and you get crazy people running around running our countries, and then the vigilantes who are screaming opinions on street corners. (Oh. That sounded bad. I didn't mean hookers, I swear.) Those crazy vigilantes aren't actually screaming from street corners, but from roof tops, because street corners have a bad rep. Um...

See. I did it again.

People are weird. I'm weird. I'm really weird.

The thought process has been interrupted. Darn! I'm going to leave you with that, and I'm not going to rant about my bad day, or how it upsets me when I can't figure out why I'm upset, because I think it's weird when people talk about stuff like that on their blogs. But, then again, people are weird, and I'm really weird, and I know for a fact that I've done that before. Repeatedly. Um... I thought I was leaving. I AM leaving. Okay. Bye now! Thanks for reading.


Oofta!


Wait, is this thing still on? Damn it! I always do that! Cut-Cut!!!!!!!

(Oh my Amish. This could go on forever. I'm really going to leave now. I have to go stuff some weird food prepared in a weird crock pot down my weird throat so that my weird mind (Oh, I guess weird stomach would be more appropriate) won't wither away into nothing, and I know if I died, It would definitely be done weirdly, and you would all (five people...barely) miss my weird commentary on everyday life and junk. Oh, goodbye!)

Say What You Mean!

Have you ever noticed how people will go out of their way to avoid saying what they really mean? It's ridiculous. For example, constipation is no longer called "constipation;" it's called "occasional irregularity." And toilet paper is no longer referred to as "toilet paper" or "butt wipe." Now we call it "bathroom tissue." Another thing (although this might seem kind of insulting coming right after toilet paper) is death. We'll jump miles and miles around saying someone has died. They've "passed on," "been taken," "ceased to be," "demised," "expired," "given up the ghost," "kicked the bucket," "perished," "bought the farm," "choked on the super-sized burrito of life," "forgot to fix the leak in the fishbowl," "bit the dust," "sank the boat," and "eaten the boot."

Why do we do this? If you tell a little kid that their grandma "has bought the farm," then they will think, Oh wow! That's so cool! When can I visit?. By using silly phrases to avoid saying what you mean, you're actually twisting reality for someone into something it shouldn't be.

I know that a lot of these phrases came about so that you didn't have to say something "taboo." There are some things that just shouldn't be said out loud, right? The ears of everyone around you are just too delicate to comprehend what's really happening.

That is the biggest load of shit I've ever heard. And I really mean that.

After these phrases were silently elected and accepted by the general public, one might feel an obligation to continue to use them in order not to be rude. Let me tell you something... There is a fine line between Rudeness and Honesty. Often times the truth is rude and crude and there isn't anything you can do about it.

So here's what it comes down to: Would you rather be a liar and be polite, or would you rather risk seeming rude and tell the truth?

Don't get me wrong. I love manners. Really, I do. I love them with all of my heart. But that line again... It's a bitch. You should always say please and thank you, but if someone offers you something you don't want, then you can't tell them that you actually don't want/like it. You have to say, "Why thank you so much So-and-So for this lovely--er...She-Man Statuette. I, um, adore it!"

You can't be polite all of the time. If we were, then we wouldn't have any personalities, and we would all be living in this make-believe world were no one every dies or has opinions or has to take a crap. And we all know that wouldn't be a world at all (1. because it's make-believe, and 2. because we would all explode and die a horrible, messy death if we never pooped).

A lot of different cultures in the world don't use these stupid phrases that America has adopted. Granted, some do. But some don't. Americans are--no offense--prudes sometimes. They don't want to think about anything unpleasant, or anything super personal, like... well, let's not go there. My point is, America has deluded themselves about a lot of things.

Example A: You don't call people fat or ugly.
Case: Why is that? Well, because it hurts their feelings. But don't you think they already realize that about themselves. If you have to look in the mirror every day, you're going to notice a couple of things. Now, I'm not saying that you should go up to fat people and tell them, "Hey! You're fat!" In fact, don't ever do that; you might induce a suicide attempt. But if those fat people aren't really fat, then they must not be, uh... fat. Look, I'm just saying that by telling you're kids not to call people fat/ugly, you're denying that there are fat/ugly people out there.

Example B: Botox.
Case: I guess it isn't just Botox, but all anti-aging products out there. You use these to look younger. You are denying you're age. Aging just doesn't exist for you. It's vain because everything ages, and then everything eventually dies. That's just the way it goes. It's no use lying about your age, or getting Botox to look younger, because then everyone knows that you're lying, and that you're desperate to not age, to not lose your attractiveness, to not die. And it makes you look pathetic, like all other women in the Universe who do that very same thing. It's going to happen eventually, no matter how hard you try. Why are you fighting nature?

And finally,
Example C: Exercise bikes.
Case: Okay, I've been waiting a long time to rant about exercise bikes. Take a journey with me...

You go to the gym, or possibly that dank, dark room in the back of your basement that you reserve specifically for criminal interrogations, torture sessions, and attempting to shrink your butt by a couple sizes. You get on the bike, and you start to peddle. The bike asks you to select a program. You do that. Then it asks you to set up your personal info. Your age: Here is the first opportunity that you have to lie to yourself. Maybe, if you're sledding down the wrong side of the hill, you dial your age back a couple of years. Easy: just a click of a button, and you are now simply 30 years old. Next, Your Weight: Oh boy. I've even done this one. Repeatedly. In your mind, you're telling yourself that you really don't remember how much you weigh because you haven't used your scale in a couple weeks (or maybe a couple of months, judging by the cobwebs accumulating in the darkest corner of your bathroom, where the scale has been waiting). So, you fudge a little bit. Maybe you subtract, oh, I don't know. 10, 20 pounds? If only losing weight in real life were that easy. *Sigh* Anyway, you do the whole peddling thing, blah blah blah. And as you do this, you watch the distance that you've traveled. It keeps going up and up and up until you think, Hey. I'm really cruising!. This really bothers me. I mean, it really, REALLY bothers me. You've gone 5 miles on the exercise bike in 30 minutes. So what? What do you mean? Five miles is a lot! Yeah, it is. Well, isn't it a good thing?
Well, it would be if you were ACTUALLY GOING SOMEWHERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It's so stupid. Just think about how many people go to the gym every week. Think about all of the miles they all rack up over the week, on all of the different machines. And just thinking about that makes me SO ANGRY! All of those miles are wasted. It's like taking off the wheels on your car (and propping it on cinder blocks) and putting a brick down on the accelerator. You aren't going anywhere, and you're waisting mileage. Does that make any sense at all?

Um, I got kind of side tracked there... getting into my rant. This connects to the lying Americans because you can tell yourself that you run 6 miles every day, but in reality it doesn't matter. You can go however many miles that you want, and if it's on an exercise bike, you aren't going anywhere. Miles were created to measure distances. If you travel those miles, then you are traveling those distances. And exercise bikes cheat you.

There. I don't know if that last one made sense, but I really feel strongly about that particular topic. Hey, if any of you out there (reading this, of course) have ever been in Mrs. Guffaw-har's (Definitely NOT a nickname for Mrs. Ma-har!) class, then you'll know what I mean when I say: I should have done my Opinion paper on exercise bikes. That would have made her mad.

I need to end this entry before I blow a gasket. Thanks for reading!

Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh.

I feel like I should apologize for all of the negativity emanating from my blog lately. I don't know why it's been here lately. Really, everything has actually been pretty good. But nonetheless, it has been here, and I don't want it to be. This is supposed to be a happy place (kind of...) and I've been messing it up.

Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. So yeah.

I'm sorry.

Now that that is done, I just wanted to write in for a little bit, see how things have changed....

.......*woosh*(wind blowing through creaky door)....

....(tumble weed, um...tumbling).....

I guess nothing much has changed.

I feel like blogging about absolutely nothing.

For example, when you have a blog, are there certain rules that you have to abide by? I mean, besides the standard "No porn" ones? Because honestly that one goes without saying. But, when you have a blog, can you talk about yourself blogging? Or about your blog? Grrr... I'm not saying this right. Let's try again: can you talk about your blog while using the word blog?

If that is a rule, then I'm screwed.

Who came up with the word blog anyway? It's such a weird word. Really, the combination of letters... So random. In fact, it's kind of annoying....

Yet so addicting.

BLOGBLOGBLOGBLOGBLOGBLOGBLOGBLOGBLOGBLOGBLOGBLOGBLOGBLOG!!!!

****Sigh****

BLahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..................

I have a huge book list of books (obviously) that I am so excited to read. Yay!

OOOOooooooh! Time for book of the week!

Drum roll please................................

(bumbadabumbadabumbadaBUM!)

The winner is.....

(BUMBADABUMBADABUMBADABUMBADABUMBADABUMBADABUM!)

Drum, shut up. I'm not done talking yet. Jeez. Damn drummers, think they're "all that". Psh.

(bumbumbadaBUM!!!!!)

An-eee-wayyyyyy, the book of the week is:

Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief


YYyyyyaaayayayayyayay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Um, okay. Before you say anything (i.e.: What?! That's a kids book! You're to old for that! Wahwahwahwahblah bluh bloo blah bluh), it was a really good book. I recommend you read it, whatever age you are, because my mom read it too, and she's addicted, and she is also mad because I'm hogging the 4th book, and she wants to read it. But seriously; go read it.

I picked it up in the first place because I thought the movie looked good. Here's a little tip: It wasn't. It sucked like a vacuum cleaner, and I definitely do not recommend it. At all. Well, unless you want a really good joke, because I almost got us kicked out from laughing so much. (I'm not kidding about that; some usher came up to where we were sitting and told us that if we didn't settle down, he would have to ask us to remove ourselves from the premises of the theatre. Or something like that anyway).

Well, I've blogged enough for today about nothing. I've got to go and do something productive. G'bye and thanks for reading!

Ode to the World (And so on, And so forth)

Completely disregarding my previous entry (I'm done with that freaky stuff for now), I am now going to proclaim the greatness of our world.

Isn't it great? Come on, you know you just want to jump the next rooftop so you can scream from it. The question is, are you screaming with joy, or from utter, indescribable (if it was describable, then there wouldn't be any need for shouting) frustration?

Some days, I'm not so sure.

I'll tell you a story... a story about a lovely girl named Kacie Renn. (Not to toot my own horn or anything.... but, psh.)

Anyway, in this story you will be introduced to two new characters: a self-proclaimed skankbox by the secret alias of Horny Temple-er, and an annoying, but tolerable talker called She's-a Barking. Have fun:

Once upon a time, about two hours ago, there was a group of flute players working on a trio for the most annoying class of the day, and possibly the existence of time (or at least the bassoon). Now they, as had the whole band, had been working on this particular piece of music for the past week, and as was to be expected, were sick of it. In fact, they didn't really play at all that day because Taffy, their band director, was not present. Anyway, amidst all of the random piano playing (the practice rooms are equipt with them, as every self-respecting practice room should be) and chatter.

But soon, Horny Temple-er had wrangled all of those occupying that particular practice room in an uncomfortable conversation that all (except her) were reluctant to have. It was as follows:

H.T.: I'm such a ho. Do you think I'm a ho? Go ahead, tell me. I just want your opinion; I promise I won't get mad. Huckluckhuckluck! (that was her deranged laughter)

She's-a Barking: I personally don't know what you are, but I've heard some stuff, I guess. And my one friend, well, like, she was talking to me one day about you, but I don't really believe her, because one time she told me this one story about how she adopted this puppy from the pound and then when it wouldn't obey she kicked it a little, and then tried to return it to the pound, but they wouldn't take it because it was damaged, so she dropped it off and ran away and well...she's not really my friend I guess.

Kacie Renn: Um.......

H.T.: So guys, have you ever kissed a boy?

S.B.: I don't want to answer that question.

H.T.: Aaaawwwww! How cute! Huckluckhuckjuck!

(after many minutes of badgering, S.B. finally recounted a tail of a kiss. Blahbluhblah.)

You can guess where Horny Temple-er turned her questions to next.

And the only thing going through my mind is, Naw-uh. NO. Way. You do not need to know ANY of my personal life.

I remained silent, and turned my back to her to play the piano. Of course she harrassed me and asked me more personal questions, which I would rather not share, blahbluhblah. Go stuff yourself Horny Temple-er.

THE END

Sorry about that. I had to get it off my chest. She's just so annoying, and it's just toxic.

Anyway, I will have more opinions to share coming up shortly. Here is a sneak peak at the topics under discussion:

• Teenagers
• Exercise Bikes
• Corporate America
• Purple as a general color
• And much, much MORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thanks for reading.... Sorry about the negative energy.

The unknown: More personal than you think?

Last night I was thinking about people. Do you ever do that? Just think about all of the 6.6 billion people in the world? It's mind boggling. All of those human beings, in different countries, down the street. What are they thinking right now? How do they feel at this very moment? What do they regret? What is the one thing that they want most? They are human and they have feelings, but they are nothing like me. Some of them would scare me. Another would be my best friend. But they are out there, and sometimes we get caught up in our own lives, in our own little circle of acquaintances who are so similar to us, that the idea of other people who are different seems abstract, even conceptual. "Of course there are others. But are they really that different? I don't see how they could be..." When we get caught up in that kind of thought process, we become close-minded.

But think about all of those people that we won't ever meet in our lives. The majority of the world. What are the chances that we won't find someone that we are supposed to? Someone who will help us to grow or teach us something or give us a wonderful gift? The odds aren't in our favor. I hate to think that I'm missing out, that everyone is. I think about myself, and how very few people actually know me, and I want to know the same type of people. I want to meet those who would understand, and who I would understand in turn. I want to save them too.

I want to believe that there isn't any randomness, although randomness is what we need sometimes. And I would like to think that there is a plan, that we will meet those who we are supposed to. But if I except that, then I'll have to accept other things as well.

If Adam and Eve ate knowledge, then shouldn't we know what we need? Why are we so clueless as to who others are? Who we are ourselves? It doesn't make sense to me, and I desperately wish that it did.

What about the people you "know?" Your friends, your relatives, that person that you always see walking down the hall, but who you've never spoken to. That guy who always makes fun of the teacher in math, or even a complete stranger you walk past on the sidewalk. Who are they? Do they even know? I doubt that they do, because I don't know me.

And how many people go walking around thinking that they have a pretty good idea of who they are, when they actually have no clue at all?

All of it is sad. Everyone. The whole world, myself included. We can pretend, we can bluff, we can force ourselves to fit the standard that we and others want. But it's not the truth. It's never the truth. No matter how good our intentions, they don't make a lie true. And if that is true (although I doubt it is, because everything is a lie), then how are we supposed to know if this is real, if any of it is real? How is it possible to live in a world where people lie, when everything is a lie? Lying shouldn't even be possible. And so our world isn't real.

Maybe we are all living inside of the dream of one ultimate being. We think we are real, we've deluded ourselves into believing that this is our place, one that we've created. We can experience all of the emotions that we think we should. We can even die inside of this dream that isn't ours. But since it's all a lie, it doesn't matter. We just go back into that place inside of that being's head, and we call it heaven. Maybe it is.

Someone told me recently that they didn't believe in depression. But how could they look at this world and say something like that? If all of this is true (which is most likely isn't, because everything is a lie), then how couldn't they immediately fall into depression.

Maybe I shouldn't believe in happiness. Maybe it's just a state made up like everything else so that we feel like we have a goal to work toward. Maybe just getting caught up into this place that isn't real is enough to make us feel happy. But I'm not sure if I ever will be, if I'll ever fall for that trick. I don't say this in self pity; I say this because it is what I believe to be the truth.

Maybe I'm the deluded one. Maybe I really am insane.

I've learned something about myself that I have a hard time believing. It can't be true, because if it is, then there are other things that I don't remember. It scares me sometimes.

I know this probably doesn't make sense to you. Or maybe it does. I don't know who you are. But if what I've just written calls to even a little part of you, then I'm glad. And I'm also sad. Even if this place is made up, it's still a place to be. And that's something, right?

Thank for reading this, if you even read this far. Cryptic entries are my specialty.

I am now sending this message out into the Universe. Let it find who it needs to.