Be my friend?

Is there anyone in the vicinity of New York who would like to go with me to see Russell Simmon's Def Comedy Jam?

Allow me to explain. I have to go. For my theatre class. Because we're exposing ourselves to different kinds of theatre, blah blah. I really don't want to go. But I have to. And it's in the city, so I cannot go alone. Well, I could, but I'd have a far worse time, and I'd probably end up roundhouse kicking someone in the jaw. From paranoia, you see. And I don't think it's something my mother would want to go to. [eyebrow]

The available dates are February 28, March 5, 6 at 8:00 PM, March 1 at 5:00 and 9:00 PM, March 2, at 3:00 PM, or March 4, at 7:00.

It occurs to me that I could ask some of my more local friends. They'd do it for me. Of course, then I'd have to hang out with them. And they'd talk to me. And I'd have to talk to them. And... really, in no way good for me. Or I could ask Mike. I dunno. Feedback me.

Wtf, man.

Why does channel 23 show non-stop programming from George Mason University and the University of Virginia? Did it just, like, arbitrarily pick those two places?

As I concluded today whilst walking to class, the power(s) that govern(s) the shape and force of human destiny do(es) in fact hate me. Although Manchild will be on in half an hour, so perhaps I'm being thrown a boon.

That's "bone" in Scottish.

Color.

My favorite colors are purple, orange, and green. Occasionally I add yellow to this, but usually not. Purple is definitely foremost, and the other two are on equal standing. I realized at some recent time that the colors of my room are purple, orange, and green. I've always considered my room to be white. Which it is. My wallpaper is white, with flowers on it. Purple, orange, and green flowers. My carpet is white. I have a rug on one side. A purple, orange, and green (and yellow) rug. It's not as gaudy as it sounds. My comfortor is green. My throw pillows are orange. My blanket is purple.

Now, here's the thing. This has been my room since I was about 6. I did not pick the colors. My parents picked them. Some of the colored accruements were acquired after, but the main color scheme was there before I had a say in it.

If my room had been blue, would that be my favorite color?

Green and orange are rife with irony. I wonder if I can ruin purple for myself, too. I won't think about it too much, since I'm sure I could if I tried hard enough.

Why not?

Tomorrow I'm going to audition for Hamlet. I'm probably going to be very busy later in the semester, so doing a play as well seems kind of... dumb. However, my primary concern is keeping myself busy and distracted. And this should do nicely. You know, assuming I win.

Perhaps I can be Ophelia.

Theme.

I'm a billion ages past you
A million years behind you too
A thousand miles up in the air
A trillion times I've seen you there

Your hair is golden mine is grey
You walk on grass it turns to hay
Your blood is blue and your eyes are red
My body strains but the nerves are dead

I can't reach you
I strain my eyes
I can't reach you
I split my sides
I can't reach
Trying to get on you
See feel or hear from you

The distances grow greater now
You drink champagne and past me plow
You fly your plane right over my head
You're so alive and I'm nearly dead

I can't reach you
With arms outstretched
I can't reach you
I crane my neck
I can't reach
Trying to get on you
See feel or hear from you

Once I caught a glimpse
Of your unguarded untouched heart
Our fingertips touched and then
My mind tore us apart

I can't reach you
With arms outstretched
I can't reach you
I crane my neck
I can't reach
Trying to get on you
See feel or hear from you

I can't reach you
With arms outstretched
I can't reach you
I crane my neck
I can't reach
Trying to get on you
See feel or hear from you

- Townshend

Swell Folks.

Pat and Stephanie are cool people. They have attractive and bright children. Here's a diary entry dedicated to their insufferably cute family.

I was thinking about the WD and my relationship with it, and all that good stuff. And I thought of the old question: "When did you feel that this was a community?" Now, I know that a lot of my fellow bitter oldbies date this phenomenon from AlyKat's "deletion binge" and the concern and explanation that followed. Not me though. With all due respect to Jenny, I adore her. She is as my erstwhile swain put "the coolest person ever." But I don't think I noticed that she started deleting posts. And I didn't read her explanation post for over a week. Actually, I think I missed it entirely. If this is the turning point for most people who were there then, that got them to see the board as not just words on a screen but as a group of friends, then when did that happen for me? Here's my anecdote.

It happened when one day, I read this post by this chap called "wbguy." I'd seen his name a few times, and he seemed pretty cool. Anyway, in this post, he wrote about how his wife had just given birth to a baby girl. They had named her Harper. It was such a sweet and happy post

That's the post that got me hooked. It made me think of the WD as not just a place where people got together to share their sorrows, but a place where they came to share their joys as well. That's what I wanted to be a part of. And it was a darn good run.

I'm so glad that I became friends with Pat. And I'm glad that Stephanie joined the board, and that I got the chance to be her friend, too. They are wonderful.

[affected drunken slur]I love you guys.[/affected drunken slur]

So.

For the last couple of days or so, I've been making these short, vague, mildly alarming entries. The post time doesn't show up (really, I've been thinking about adding it, but I don't know how it would fit into my format) but I made them late at night. Like I'm doing now, pretty much. The reason for this is that for the past two days, I've been getting really fucking depressed, especially in the night-al arena. I am just really not having a good time. I really don't know how to explain it any other way. I've been thinking about singing and recording "I Can't Reach You," which is the song that I've had on repeat all day, but I don't know if that would be a good thing or not.

I'd really like things to distract me. Technically, that thing could be school, since I believe I have assignments and readings and things that I should be doing, but it takes too much energy, and it's boring. TV is boring. The internet is boring. Well, until some of you update your blogs, and even then I skim over a lot of entries. Sorry. I brought my cross-stitch back with me but I can't even work on it. The only thing I seem to want to do at the moment is shake my limbs nervously, hum, and bang my head against my desk. [rolleyes]

Also, I've decided to stop reading posts. I went on the board a few times today to check my PMs. The first time I had 4 (yay!) but on subsequent visits there were none. I don't know how long this will last, and I'm not claiming it's going to be anything permanent. The board is just more trouble than it's worth to me lately. It's becoming difficult and upsetting. And I don't care about the people who are making these posts that upset me, so what's the point?

In case no one has noticed, I'm a very unhappy person.

Hee.

"You know, I used to think humans were pretty smart, too. Then I got Internet access. *shudder*" - Darius of classicgames.org. ...Whoever that is.

Help.

MONKEY!!

This just in: Heath is the coolest person, ever.

Thank you.

Fuck it.

The board is pissing me off, and so far, I've only read testing. I don't want to know about the quirks you have when sleeping next to someone. Or... whatever. Anyway, my rage needs a focus, so here's an easy and gross one: I fucking hate Ghost. Seriously, I would feel better if he died. He's not entertaining in the slightest bit, and yet he thinks he is because no one tells him otherwise. Also, he is beyond disgusting. He's a pervert, and it's pissing me off and I don't want him on the board. And I am very uncomfortable with the fact that he constantly hits on Maze, who is 14 years old.

Thank you, announcement over.

An Essay On the Nature of Thinkin' Stuff.

I'm having a mild love-hate relationship with my archaeology course. We haven't gone into much actual archaeology yet, just anthropological theory. Here's the thing, my professor talks too goddamn much. I like him, he's much cooler than I was going to label him as being upon first seeing him. And he does have the same name as a whisky/guitar company. But he talks too much. There are many instances at which my brain starts making ingenious revelations, such as: The difference between archaeology and history is that archaeology is the study of the past through matierial remains whereas history is the study of, basically, stories, written or otherwise. However, cultural anthroplogy is concerned with the study and documentation of living societies, and these fields of anthropology are all interconnected. Here's the pickle: years into the future, if archaeologists discover artifacts from a society, this is archaeology. But, what if they discovered the findings of the cultural anthropologists? Is this archaeology, or is it history? You see what I mean? I can't say any of this because he talks so damn much. And he says things which are not correct. I have a stronger knowledge of biology than he does. He was trying to explain the connection between sickle-cell and malaria, and he kept fucking it up. Since I'm very aware of and can explain in detail the connection between sickle cell and malaria, I was miffed to the extent not seen since ninth grade when my world history teacher proclaimed in his smug "I want to kick you in the teeth" way that the "ides" of the Roman calender fell on "the 15th of every month." Pfft! Also, dude. New Guinea is not the largest island in the world. That's Madagascar. Find a map.

He did pose some cool stuff, though. He used the phrase "ramble on" and related linguistic anthropology to the integrity of analog over digital. This had made me want to write something music related which I might send to bettie, as this is much more distracting than any school-work. She shouldn't hold her breath, though, because when I get inspiration it is fleeting and once gone difficult to be recovered.

For example, on the bus from class my thoughts turned from mosquitos and albums and writing and instead to fatalistic ruminations on my as yet unceasing existence.

And I thought about how rock stars need to stop singing songs about their children while generalizing their themes to make them generally accesible. Screw you, Osbourne.

And now, as I'm typing this, my thoughts have strayed again. As I live alone, I have opted to wear no pants, and I noticed that my legs, though they're looking rather, er, Mediterranean at the moment, are also really hot. Like, in the attractive sense.

I don't even remember what I was talking about anymore.

...

I lied. I do not feel better.

Also, they are going to take away my monkeys and my inline comments. These are two of the very few things that make me happy. I'm not being off-beat or ironic, either, I'm really serious. Yes, my life really is that sad.

Anyone want to pay ten dollars to give me a year of monkeys? I can pay you with the warmth and glow of my admiration.

Crap.

A commercial has just made me remember that the boy and I share a slightly darkhorse favorite pizza-making establishment. Well I certainly can't get that pizza anymore! I can't imagine cheese and saline is very appetizing.

Fuck.

Word Association

I feel better. Mostly because I IMed Stephanie. And I thought to myself: "Huh. I must feel better." ...In theory. Anyway, in case you ever wanted to recall what people thought of me around the beginning of July, 2000, here you go. Speaking of word association, I was thinking about that in the car today. And I came up with what would probably be a neat song title. Also, I know a boy who won the Super Bowl. .....Weird.

JupiterAmy
Smada - red-hair
Fluff - One of those murals of the solar system from elementary school
Ms. Kitty - Sailor Moon, why I don't know as I've never watched an entire ep

Huh. The other pages don't seem to be archived. Story. of. my. life.

I feel like quitting.

Want to be a ultra-sensitive girl?

Ovaries are optional. Here's my method:

I discovered in my playlist a song I used to love when I was a younger person. Now, you should be frigthened right away, because when I was a "younger person" it was the 1980s, and by gum if I didn't pick the most shameful stuff to like! I also liked Madonna and Bon Jovi. ([tongue], Mr. Kirk.) I also listened to a lot of country music. This particular song that I found is called "If You Get There Before I Do" by Collin Raye. It is physically impossible for me to listen to this heartfelt song of two little old people in love, as told from the perspective of their teenage grandson, without crying like a big stupid girl.

You should too. It'll build character. [/what?] Or, just reply and tell me what a dork I am.

In a word...

It's extremely awkward and nettling when I talk to someone I haven't spoken with in a while, and then say the magic words: "How are you?"

I don't like lying. "I'm jack spiffy! And you?" And "eh-So! Whatcha been up to?" really only works on the phone. But I was sort of thinking about it just now. How am I can pretty much be summed up with one word.

Inconsolable.

Perhaps I should just respond with that when asked.

Best. Quiz result. Ever.

You are Gigantor!

Born in 1963, You are possibly the original colossal death robot, being one of the patriarchs of the current crop, and definitely an advocate of old-skool enemy-bashing. Why use a clumsy particle weapon when you can create supernovas just by flexing your arms? Your one minor weakness is that you are entirely dominated by some kid with a remote contol - still, don't let it get you down. You can sink a nuclear submarine with jazz music.


Wage death and destruction on the Web with the following fine emblem of power:

Which Colossal Death Robot Are You?

It's so true to life!

Not for the faint of heart.

I skipped Dieter's class. It's only the second, and I always sit in the front, so he will most likely notice. I realized two classes into my four back-to-back classes, that wimmen troubles had come upon me. The question was whether or not I could put off dealing with it for another three hours. The answer came as I was on the bus to the other campus. It came in the form of crippling, stabbing pelvic pain.

The answer was no. I got off at the bus stop, and crossed the street to get a bus back the other way. Bitter cold, and I am in so much pain I'm nauseous and desperately trying to not start crying and screaming. 10 minutes later, a bus comes. And is immediately filled with horrible little college urchins. I have to wait for the next one. It arrives shortly. "None of these people know how much pain I'm in" I repeat in my head like a little mantra. On the bus, some retard wants me to explain where some building is. I think I did so, but I can't really remember, as I was too focused on my BLOODY TORMENTING PAIN!!!

Get off bus. Move quickly into the convenience mart. Purchase Advil. Leave store. Cross street. Climb stairs. Get to dorm. Cannot enter dorm, as access card has chosen this moment, with no cause whatsoever to stop working. Cry. Pull self mildly together enough to walk to housing office. Enter housing office. Wait, while some twit explains to some jock about how to file a hardship claim because he lost his stupid jock scholarship. Only other working person there is on phone. 5 minutes later, am assisted. In the middle of "processing my request" the phone rings again. BLINDING DEBILITATING PAIN!!

Finally, I sign some form, get new card, walk back to dorm, get in dorm, walk up stairs, enter room, throw belongings onto floor, make nessecary attire adjustments, down an as of yet unknown amount of Advil, curl up into small ball on bed, whimper.

Luckily, I can go home tonight. And I can start taking my irony pills which will supposedly stop me from having horrible evil pain in this way. First I have to go to another class, and buy more books.

And the drugs haven't really kicked in yet. Oh, and I almost sprained my ankle before getting on said bus.

You know, the more I think about it, the more I feel that I really deserve an explanation for why my life sucks so much.

Also.

You know what I realized today? I've been doing [this] for a really long time. I'm disapponted that it hasn't caught on yet.
Here's a template for you:

[[i]grr[/i]]

So.

It's 3:53. In theory, I'm waking myself up in 5 hours, and then I'm going to class for sic hours straight. Also, I spent some time in the past hour looking at some extremely graphic and disturbing images. At least, they sure should be. I wonder if I'll have nightmares. I do, however, feel more informed, if kind of whelmed.

I probably had things I was going to say today, but then I forgot what they were/are. Oh, I do remember that for about 20 minutes today, I became an existentialist. It kind of sucked.

Also, do you suppose anyone would be willing to financially support me as I continue a useless and fruitless existance? It seems pretty stupid to be really miserable all the time and have to work to maintain that lifestyle.

Note to self: go to sleep.

More Buffy, short, sweet, and scared.

[Begin Spoiler for Vague Season 7, up to, I dunno, let's just say "Potential" — Highlight to view]
I have not read any of the shooting scripts lately, but someone, please tell me that the Australian chick isn't supposed to be English. I'll cry. Really.

If only Rex Harrison were a watcher.
[End Spoiler]

Aw, man.

Buffy made me cry.

I'm such a girl.

This concludes Amy's pseudo-review.

Wait, I lied. I have one more thing: Andrew is not the same age as Buffy. If one more person says this, I will locate their home, and blow it up. Tucker was Buffy's age. Andrew is his younger brother. Think about it.

Also, I am watching American Idol. Curse you, Del, curse you.

E pluribus Q

I keep noticing that this one particular question in this one particular boq keeps getting the same answer. Or at least the second half is rather consistent.
If your partner asked you to get breast implants what would you say? (And the penis version. Hehe, penis.)

Just about every answer I read suggested that the person would be unconcerned, and glib about the suggestion, but would then immediately terminate the relationship. That's kinda harsh. And doesn't make it seem like you were unbothered anyway. I decided to address this, as I have a rather excellent rack. [up] My reply would consist of "I think it's time for thicker glasses." I would not terminate a relationship over something so silly. If nothing else, you're set on comebacks for life! It works in any situation!

"I think the chicken's probably done now."
"I think, of the two of us, I'm the one better able to assess quality breasts, thank you."

"You just ran a red light."
"Oh honey, do you remember the time that you said you thought I needed breast implants? [shakes head]"

See? Endless potential.

That is one skull-fucking wind.

My first class was with Dieter. He's so cool. Our major project this year will be a book report. A BOOK REPORT! Perhaps I can read that bonobo book, and write about bonobos. Yay. Also, he said something in German. I have no idea what the hell he said, but he said it as he was handing out the syllabus, if that means anything to like, Christine or something. [tongue]

Oh, he also said: "Don't worry, that won't be one of our foci." FOCI!!

My Anthropology of Africa professor informed us that her last name is Norwegian. Well, that's just great. Also, she wanted us to introduce ourselves to the people around us. I don't care for that. It seems like it would be a very fun class. This is horrible. I am in no way prepared or willing to have fun in class. I wish my education to be rigid, rudimentary, and impersonal. Anyway, I could't hear anyone's names, or most of what they said ('twas a bit noisy). I just caught that the chick sitting next to me is a bio major.

God hates me. He's getting back at me for being flip with him so often.

She gave us a blank map of Africa, and instructed us to fill in the country names, just to see what we knew. I was miffed that I was only able to remember about 35 of the 54 countries, but I was heartened after I saw that most people could only name, like, one. And that was Libya indentified as Egypt.

So, I can handle at least two out of my classes. Just four more to test out! I bought some flip flops. I can cleanse myself now. And tomorrow I'll buy books. I swear.

Oh, yes, and there's a brutal, skull-fucking wind outside today.[/Victor]

I hate everything. I hope Buffy doesn't suck tonight. At least if it does I'll have fun reading TWoP rip it apart. Hoorah for the degradation of once beloved things! YAAY!

What about today? Is today the worst day of your life?

"Yeah."
"Wow, that's messed up. ... sorry."

This is take two for this entry, because everything on the internet hates me. Stupid internet, what good has come from you? Anyway.

Would someone explain to me why, after the entire previous semester, wanting to be roommate free, and the past month in which I couldn't wait to go back to school, amI here, in my own room, feeling so lonely and unhappy, and blah, some other adjective.

I didn't do anything today. I bought some tissues, those are important. But I didn't buy any books. I figure I can do this later. Or, hey, maybe not at all. I don't really read my books. Or maybe I do, I can't remember. As long as I don't have to do work from the books. I don't know. I've just been sitting here for the past few hours ripping the old pages out of my notebook so that I can use it this semester. And I watched a movie, and I got up once to go to the bathroom. I forgot my shower shoes. This is very upsetting. I'll have to get some flip flops tomorrow, but I need to put on my boots everytime I want to leave the room. I'm feeling a bit trapped.

Speaking of books, why can't my parents just support me utterly? [/petulance] I only have a set amount of money, I'm not getting any more. Granted, it's a decent amount. But it's finite and by this time next year it won't be decent at all. I need to set aside at least $200 to go to Virginia next month. And to get some gifts which still have yet to be in my possession. I may have to use my watch money to get my books. It's not like I have a use for a watch. But I don't think that the thought of buying a book has ever upset me so much.

I want to go home. I wish I had one.

So does this mean I can get free Super Bowl tickets?

My father is a very peculiar man. He does things like wake me up at noon on a weekend to ask me if I want to go to a wedding reception that night. Or mention for the first time that he's had major surgery somewhere... several months after it happened.

So, today I learned that I'm friends with someone in the NFL. I wasn't even aware that he still played football. But (obviously) he does. Darian Barnes, who is now apparently with the Tampa Bay.... team guys. He graduated with my sister. The last time I saw him was about a year ago. And now he's going to play in the Super Bowl. Go Darian. It's almost enough to make me take an interest in sports. So, my father asked me if I wanted to go to San Diego for the Super Bowl.

You know, I just don't get humans.

Also.... I'm going back to school tomorrow. I am so not ready. I have to like, buy all sorts of books for my millions of classes. ...Probably. And maybe have a new roomate. Which would suck. Because I type loudly. [rolleyes]

I am in a mood. I don't really know what kind. I need to stop being awake and out of the house. It's making me extremely unstable. Of course, now I'm going to be in class all day all the time for... the next few... for a while.

GRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGRRRRRRRHHHHH!

[sadmonkey]

Please send me good news. [/random plea]

Oh, FYI folks.

It's not emotionally healthy to have friends who live far away. It is preferrable to have only friends who live in a five mile radius of you. This goes for all of you in those bizarre long-distance relationships, too. That's not good. You should find someone who lives close by. I mean, it's nice that you can talk to people and everything, but it's better to have real friends.

And my mother wonders why I don't tell her more things.

Also, tell me if this sounds .....something.

Me - "I have gone out during the schoolyear, you know. With people that I'm friendly with. That I met through classes."
Mother - "Well that's good. You didn't tell me about any of this."
Me - "Well, I really didn't think it would interest you."
Mother - "If it's about what you're doing, why wouldn't it interest me?"
Me - "Because it doesn't interest me. [shrug]"

Seriously, I have a point. I go and do boring things with boring people in boring places, and it bored me. I would like to talk about people that I care about, and things that interest me, but I can't because I get the sigh, the look, and the "unhealthy" speech.

Also, on an unrelated note I'd like to add that if I'm not very communicative at any time it's because sometimes I just don't want to deal with people. Not that I don't want to deal with you. Just... any people.

People write the darndest stuff when they think no one is looking

I mangled that quote. Anyway. I saw Chicago this evening. YAY! I was going to see The Hours, because, hey, why not huh? But I didn't because the movie theatre was brimming with horrible people, and the show was on the brink of selling out. This is probably a good thing, as I had a much stronger desire to see Chicago.

It was fabulous. I adore Catherine Zeta-Jones. And Richard Gere was excellent. My opinion of Renee Zellweger remains the same: I don't think she's that good of an actress, but she gets roles that suit her, and her personality makes it work. John C. Reilly just kicks ass.

The only thing I was disappointed with was the Cell Block Tango. Of course, once having seen Bebe Neuwirth as Velma, nothing else does the story true justice, but this is my favorite song of the show, and it was dead flat. It can be such a funny, out-beat piece, and it really only works if the women really get into their stories. None of them did. It really seemed like they didn't even care. It was flat, and boring. Especially Mya. Jesus. If this is a taste of her acting ability, I'd rather have her just sing.

Other than that, though, it was fabuous. It gets a space on my list of favorite movies. Which I'd been saving for it since I saw the previews.

Also, my hair is gorgeous. It is soft, silken, and manageable. You wish you were me, you folicular peons.

Ugggh. [frown]

The State vs. My mother

If you read much of my ramblings, you may recall the little car ignition key incident that took place Christmas Eve. Good times. Anyway, my mother gets a thingie in the mail today from the court of such-and-such, informing her that she was getting a summons for failing to appear in court. The reason? The car was ticketed after we left. You can't leave your car on the street when it snows. Nevermind the fact that my sister lives at the end of a dead end street. Nevermind that the car couldn't be moved, as it was disabled. Supposedly, we should have left a note.

"Dear Police, do not ticket, broken key in ignition, car not moving. Your buddy, frustrated angry person."

My sister said that it was taken care of. My mother was never told that she had to appear in court about this. If she chooses to plead guilty, she is to send a $51 fine along with her little slip to the... people. If she chooses to plead not guilty, she must inform the court at least 7 days prior to her court date. If she fails to appear in court, a warrant may be issued for her arrest.

HA HA!

Oh, also, if this does not prompt your commentary, there's this: There are now monkeys. MONKEYS!!

TriPolar entry

Cryptic and sad: The box is made of leather. The box was under the sweater. So it smelled like the sweater. Now it just smells like leather. I'm too sad for murder.

Frustrated and sad: I just five seconds ago decided that I should write a song, based on a single idea, that might given time evolve into a single lyric. This is most difficult. I'd like to just grab one of my write-y friends, and force them to do it for me, but I'd really like to write a song.

Glib.... in a sad way: Perhaps I didn't make a big enough statement, but I got my driver's license today, meaning that I did that whole road test/line standing in/picture taking thing. So I'm a licensed driver. I'd like lots (or some) comments about this fact, so that I feel like I accomplished something. Validate me, please.

That is all.

Homicidal Frustration

If there are any more threads about engagements, I give myself permission to go on a destructive murderous rampage.

Also, I approve of faux modding. As a matter of fact, that's how bettie got her job. [wink] However, if you suck at it, don't do it. Or I give myself permission to go on a destructive murderous rampage.

More thoughts may be added if neccessary.

CHOMPERS!!!

My work here is done. Well. You know what I mean. Anyone want to host all my monkeys to see if maybe it's just AOL that sucks? Anyone? Anyone?

Yaaay! My layout is all fixed. Speaking of Eeyore, my sister got me a shirt for Christmas, with Eeyore on it. He says "Hello. I guess." It's all appropriate.

Oh, also, the State of New Jersey has issued me a license to drive a Class D automotive vehicle. Send gifts. Or accolades, whatever.

Oh, for the love of my ass.

I would be quite keen on this format if someone could tell me how to get it under, and not over the BlogSpot banner. And also with less margin on the right. Help me!

It's Eeyore colored. GET IT!?

At the top of the list of heads I want to smack is my own.

Gah. bettie wanted me to make an entry to alleviate her boredom, despite the fact that I don't know how anything I'm writing here could alleviate anyone's boredom, depressing droning crap that it is, I agreed. So, I next did the most logical thing and took a shower. Mmmm. Clean journaling.

Here's a memo for anyone who would like to teach someone to drive. Do not yell at the poor schmo. Seriously. Let's use a hypothetical example: me. Hypothetical. You tell me to make a K turn, and I make a K turn. Do not start yelling at me that I am going too slowly. Then I will panick. I may do things like turning the wrong way when I go into reverse. If I do this, here's what not to say: "THE OTHER WAY, THE OTHER WAY, WHAT ARE YOU DOING???!!!" Just say "The other way." I will stop turning in the wrong direction, quickly as I probably haven't turned very much at all, and I will go in the correct direction.

Afterwards, do not take me to an empty lot and have me practice turning, informing me "That's a K turn." Yes, I know that's a K turn. The problem was not that I didn't know what it was, the problem was that you thought I was going too slowly, and proceeded to freak me out. I know that you can't block traffic. That's why we were on a street with no traffic. Were a car to approach from either direction, there would have been more than enough distance for them to stop. Yeah, they might have been irked that they had to wait a second for the kid who isn't making her turns at the speed of light, but JESUS FUCK, STOP YELLING AT ME!

So, then I told my father I wanted to go home. ....Hypothetically. My sister told me that on the test the little chap with the clipboard is very quiet, and won't tell you if you screw up until afterwards. Somehow, I think I actually won't mind some silence from the passengers side.

For the past few days I've been playing King's Quest VII. It's taken me that long because I usually start playing at 3 in the morning, and I can only manage a chapter before I get sleepy. So, I started chapter 5 today (there are six "chapter" sections to the game) and found that I was light on some items. Since I haven't played in a while and I'm lazy, I just looked up some hints online.

I forgot to get the fleurking hunter's horn in chapter 1. And you can't go back and get it, because it dispears after you give the water to the dead chap. Stupid dead chap. So. This means that now that it's taken me several days to get about 2/3rds of the way through the game, I have to start at the beginning.

In board news, a cell with human DNA is not a person. I don't know how many times I have to say this. Why won't people respect my supreme authority on this? I don't care what you believe after that, but for the love of God please stop thinking that life begins at conception. Also, I was prepared to care about the whole print thread thing, but then bettie posted my response for me, so luckily that was averted. And take this piece of advice: when someone asks why RussellCrowe is.... well... RussellCrowe, the answer is "because he's a celebrity". Seriously. No one has ever challenged this answer, and it leaves no room for dolts to "expand" on your answer.

Aside from all this, my day is being pretty sucktastic. I've been having to spend more and more time awake during the day. Awake and out of the house. I really don't like this. It exacerbates my feeling like shit by about a millionfold. And I'm figthing the urge to be stupid and go lie down on my bed and wear my stupid, thoughtless, emotionless, gorgeous "present".

No Monkey!

This is the most upsetting thing ever. For some reason, backBlog will not give me monkeys. All that shows up is a little x.

This is unacceptable. I demand monkeys. I transparified them and everything!! [cryingmonkey]

Also, my comments. They need to look prettier. But I'm the only smart person using backBlog, so I need to figure out templating on my own. All on my own. I like everything except the second part, with the lighter purple and the lighter orange. And the carrot on the top. [mad]

Also, I can add markup. It's a toss up between markup from the board (not all of it, obviously, just the essentials. But what's essential?) or the monkeys from AOL. Then everyone can be freaked out by how weird they are. Or a combo. Or... whatever other people tell me to do. Come on, look at how much I've already used my brain today. I'll have to go stick it in a bucket of water now.

Also, I need a better template. This one is far too squished. And too happy.

Whatever.

Apparently, in order to save changes to... stuff, your whole... stuff needs to be published. Stuff. Meaning that there's no real feasible way to keep private entries. How disappointing. Well, no matter. Too tired for caring. This one is boring, anyway. It's one'a those dream entries. People skip those anyway.

So, this was Monday morning. (I think) I'm at Bud's (my sister's), although it's all different and big. Much more rustic looking. And lots of people were there, including WDers, and parents. We went out to eat somewhere. I got the distinct impression that Bud was mad at me, as she was being all avoidant or snippy to my direction. And so was Christine. And I came back to a room in the house, where someone was on a couch, but didn't say anything, and I started getting all upset and cry-y that Christine was pissed off at me. And then she came in the room while I was crying and told me that she wasn't upset with me at all, and started crying and hugged me.

Then the main part happened - the phone rang. It was the Boy. Upset and apologetic. And I feel directly into the role of sympathetic girlfriend. I called him sweetie. I told him not to worry about it. I said it was okay. And I was very happy. But he didn't want to get back together. Not per se. But it was the conversation that I've been longing to have. The one where he tells me what's wrong, and I tell him why that's not important, or what is important, and I fix it. And the phone kept going in and out. And he would sound all soft, and I couldn't understand most of what he was saying. And I started getting more and more upset, and telling him to repeat things and saying "I can't hear you!" It was making me incredibly panick-stricken.

And this went on for a while. Like my brain was trying to hold on to talking to him, but everything around me kept interferring with my phone call. Then someone told my mother, Bud, and some other people in the kitchen that I was on the phone, and getting upset. And so they all managed to get on the line (it's a dream phone, they can do that) and yelling and demanding to know who was on the other end. And my heart sank. And they started screaming very harsh things at the boy, and I was bawling and yelling at them all to shut up, and the noise just kept drowning him out, and drowning me out, and I was trying to tell him not to listen to them, that they weren't speaking for me, and finally I just panicked and ended the connection.

I took a couple minutes to calm myself down, and the only thing I could think was "Call him back. Right now." But then before I could, the dream ended.

Blahhh.

Pluh.

Well, I saved all my FOD entries to my computer. Note, not "downloaded" as it was highly against that. The whole process took me from 3:27 PM to 6:43 PM. I noticed the following things:

[-] I wish I had begun journalling sooner. Because I wish I had more happy entries. Happy by comparision, anyway.
[-] I wish I could go back in time and tell the me of late October to buck up, kid. It's not going to get any better.

Geez, isn't that the P@ guy a total loser?

All my entries must have titles, that is my only requirement. Blah. I don't like Blogger. I don't. It's all.... linear (much like flat mode) and Haloscan is all.... crappy. Seriously, how can one express wit with so few icons? I want to register on their board just so that I can bite the hand that feedbacks me. Anywoo. I guess I'll be doing the whole semi-secret blog thing again. Because I want attention, just not from that guy. [points]

Oh, wanna know what I did today? I went to the doctorb. They only took seven vials of blood today. Neat! I've also been prescribed some ironic pills. [the irony chime rings]

Also, I don't know why I'm not famous and/or rich yet. It's kind of pissing me off. It's also pissing me off that I have to go back to school soon. Even though of late, I've had the very peculiar feeling of wanting to go back to school. Mainly so that I can get the hell away from people.

I just thought of a depressing song to download, and possible to sing. I'll go do that! Also, I started playing King's Quest VII this evening. What does it say about my life that I am finding a game that I've played and beaten many times over, and requires no more thought than pointing and clicking, daunting? Pfft.

Also, I had a very upsetting dream last night (this morning). I woke up all frustrated and panicked and very unhappy. Who wants to hear about that!? [rolleyes]