cheap stuff

Celery says I’m crazy. I don’t believe him. I’m fine. I’m not crazy. Celery is a liar. Because I’m not crazy. DUH. God, for geez, this is obvious.

Anyway. On to more important things.

I don’t know what those are right now, though.

I have money to go on the bus. I do. But I don’t want to go anywhere. I want to go and do something, but I don’t want to go to the mall. I want to go away.

I told Matthew this on the phone last night, that I wanted to get out and go and just be away. He didn’t say yes or no or anything like that.
That’s very kind of you, guy.

I was texting with Mario last night. Haven’t heard from him since then. But he’s at work. And I don’t know when he gets off work, actually. But I texted him. And so now I wait.
I don’t know if he’s even gonna text me back.
We haven’t had the texting conversation yet. As in what times are good and what times aren’t good and what aren’t good and yes. We should have that conversation. But I didn’t think of that yesterday, I was more excited that I got text messages.
Other than I started it but that’s okay.

ANYWHOZ.

It’s really windy outside, and I do not know how it is so windy, but it is. It’s also kinda hot supposedly. I guess it is a bit, but whatever. It’s supposed to be hotter tomorrow, really.

I feel good today. I think what I need to do everyday is what I did this morning, which is make an attempt to at least make myself feel good.  About myself.
You know, shower, get dressed (and actually get dressed, not shorts and a tshirt cuz that’s all I could find) and brush my hair and all that. You know, stuff you do everyday, just make sure to do it and make an effort to be…presentable, I guess you could say.

It worked this morning.

Now, though, it’s afternoon and I’m dreadfully bored and I think that’s gonna be lasting all day, so I’m not too thrilled on that note. I’m bored. BORED.
And waiting. WAITING WAITING WAITING.
For something to happen, or for text messages, or BOTH.
That’d be nice.

I’m bored. I mean really really really bored. So bored I’m writing a blog post.
I want a nap. That would be nice. I don’t feel well. My stomach hurts. Again. It’s been doing that a lot. It did that this morning, too. Wasn’t too happy with it for doing that. So I slept more. Till…well, uh, I don’t remember when, but it was almost ten, I think.

I’m still waiting for text messages.  Hopefully I get some. That’d be nice. I likes me some text messages.

Okay that’s all bye.

Get Shortlink

I hate you. I love you.
I don’t know what I think. Or what I feel like. Or what I want to.

Let’s just say I’m having a moment. It’s a long moment. It’s lasted almost over a day.

I think I’m having a break. Into…something.

Is it bad that I still bad for basically just leaving Mario hanging? I mean, we weren’t together or anything, and I don’t think we would have (for a long while, if at all, I mean). But, we were…something. Other than not. Other than not.
I messaged him on Yahoo about half an hour ago. Haven’t talked to him in almost a month. I just said that I was sorry. That was it. He’s on on his phone. Probably left it on – he should be sleeping at this time of night.
Yes I feel bad still.
Especially since he noted the presence of teh Matthew on the MySpace. And we talked it over. And things changed. The very next day. Which just happened to be his (Mario’s) birthday.
Yeahhhhh. I feel bad.
So if he never talks to me again, understandable.
But I apologized. And that’s all there is to tell.

Saying “I love you” on the phone with people around that I know is awkward. I avoid it. I don’t do it. It’s weird. So, Matthew, I’m sorry, but I’m not comfortable with that yet. When I’m out of the house, it’s fine, yeah. But…around the family? It’s awkward.

There’s nothing new. Nothing old. Nothing. Nothing.
Facebook is boring. I’m trying to keep interest, but it’s not keeping me.
Everyone’s busy. Everyone seems to have a life. School, at least. Or something. That doesn’t bother me. I don’t talk to anyone on there. I try to comment with Christina, but I have nothing to say. Comment with Tessa. Eh, that won’t last. Anna tried an IM, but Firefox froze. Bad timing.
I talk to nobody from school. I do not mind this.

What I do mind is not being able to say “I’ve known this person for x-amount of years”.
The longest I’ve known (and regularly talk to someone) would be Kris, which is over a year and a half. But I don’t talk to him regularly. Then after that it would be Celery.
And Scott about the same amount of time as Kris. But I haven’t talked to Scott in forever. I wish I did. Since the 26th of August. That’s a long time. Scott and I were good friends. And we haven’t talked in so long.

I’m not talking to anyone other than Celery and Moose sometimes, then there’s Ben and Matthew.
That’s about it.

Colton texted me yesterday. Randomly. We texted a bit. Then that’s it.
Nothing there with him. I don’t know what he thinks about me. I don’t care really. He’s a cool person, but we don’t really talk about much when we do talk. Just idle chat.

I’m insane. I’m unstable. I’m going to fuck this up with Matthew.

I’m depressed. Depressed. Depressed. I think I am.
I feel I am.
I’m supposed to be happy, and I’m not.  I am, and I am not.
I feel not right. NOT RIGHT. Malaise. New vocab word.

I’m happy because of Matthew, but it’s not…not…I don’t know. The past few days, he’s been busy. And I’ve been…odd. And he’s been busy.
And we’ve been texting and talking and we were on the phone last night and he was talking to his roommate for like ten minutes and just sitting there and then had to go and then tonight had to go and then took a long time and then  GOD I’M PICKY.
I wish I wasn’t. I don’t know what I want. I want to…I don’t know.

I don’t know.
I want an easy answer, that comes right now.

I want…now. Now is good. Now works. Waiting leaves time for thinking, and I don’t like thinking. Because this happens and I don’t know what’s going on. I just don’t know.

I love Matthew. And I want him to be happy and successful and I want to be with him. But I don’t know how this is going to work. It’s going to be a while till we can get it to work. I’m not good with waiting. I want to wait. I’m going to wait. But I’m impatient.
I’ll wait. I’ll see him. I’ll go there to see him. I’ll be there. We’ll hopefully be good together. Then all can go well. And plans can move on. But I do not know how well this is going to happen. I’m not a good person.

I’M NOT A GOOD PERSON.

And he’s going to find out sometime. He’s going to be…I don’t know what, but he’s going to find out and he’s going to be like ‘EW BITCH GO AWAY” and yes. I don’t know why “ew” but it fitted.

I don’t know what I ….

I don’t know. But if you rearrange the letters of “intercourse” you get Enter Rucios. Which is in Mexico and Spain. I googled it. The Rucios part. Not the rearranging part.
I was watching “A Beautiful Mind” earlier. I cried.
I did. It’s true. I wish I could cry now. If I was alone, I would be. But my mother is on the other couch.

I’ve been taking those vitamins again. Two a day. Okay, only for the past few days. But still. I don’t want to blame the vitamins, they’re supposed to help me, not make me worse.
Maybe I’m supposed to be unhealthy, so I can be stable. I do not feel stable now. I have felt that way before.
I feel empty and unsure and sad and depressed.

And I don’t like it. At all.
I do not like it. Not one bit.

I hate this. I hate you. And I hate waiting.
But I like…I love Matthew. I am happy. He makes me happy throughout the day.

Maybe this is what happy is? You’re good for a while, then you question your goodness, then you get good again and wonder.

I feel empty. I don’t know why. I’m not healthy. I’m not complete. There’s something missing.

GOD WHAT THE FUCK AM I TALKING ABOUT I HAVE A PERFECT BOYFRIEND AND WE LOVE EACH OTHER AND EVERYTHING IS GOOD.

So why am I having issues? I DON’T KNOW. It hurts me.

This morning, I wanted to do nothing. I almost skipped a shower today, I felt so blahlike. I got back in bed even for a while. I showered eventually, though. Listened to music. Sweeney Todd. Before the shower.
Then what did I do? I don’t remember. Watched movies. “A Beautiful Mind”. “Bowling for Columbine”. Both are sad. I cried at both. This afternoon was boring. Random computer stuff. Boring. Texting Matthew. That part I liked. It was sparse, though. I need to take applications back.
I don’t want to. I don’t want a job.

I need a job. I want to work. I don’t want a job. I don’t want to go anywhere and be obligated. I don’t want to lose Matthew. I can’t give him up. I give up so easily on things when they get hard.
Maybe that’s why I’m having issues. It’s not going to be easy, this with Matthew. But we have to if it’s going to end the way we want.
I want it to go that way. I want there to be a happy ending. But the days take so long.

Things are good. Things are bad.
I don’t know what I want. I would like to just go and be with him right now. But that would solve nothing. Nothing. He’s never home, so it would solve nothing.

I don’t know what the issue is. I wish I could pinpoint it.

Maybe it’s because I have no human contact past the mom and the aunt. I’m not around people. Tuesday was nice, I was out, I was around other people, there was bustle there was motion, there was more than this laptop and this couch.
I need to get out more. But that costs money. And I lack income.
But I need to get out more.
Let’s go.
Want to come too? No, you don’t. I don’t want to go out in the world, bad things happen out there.

It’s safe and predictable here, on the couch. The world is scary, big, and who knows what’s going to happen. You can only plan ahead so far, so much. But you can plan almost perfectly from the couch.
I don’t want to fail.

Always.
Don’t want to fail.
That…explains everything.

So let’s try and make it work. Give it…everything. You can’t succeed if you don’t try. You can’t fail, but you won’t do anything.
I can make something real, and not just a fantasy. For once in my life, something can go the way I want it to. And let’s get to it.

I’m so weird. Because now I’m right ready to go out and get a fucking job. Again. So, let’s go. LET’S GO. Other than not, cuz it’s 10:30 at night.
So tomorrow. Out I go. After getting bus fare.
And then, who knows, I might get a job. I sure as hell hope so. That would be nice. I’d like a job.

In order to go to Texas. I need money. In order for Matthew to come here and us to do stuff, that requires money too. Plane trips alone cost 500$. I need a job. Jobs are good. Employment is good. Let’s go get a job. I have to go see him. I have to get there. February. Valentine’s.

Yes. That’s what it’s gonna be. He comes in January, I go in February. For Valentine’s.
How romantic.

I’m so tired.
I should sleep. And I’m going to go turn in applications tomorrow.

I need a job.

corrections

…kay I lied. Fringe is NEXT Thursday.

Oh, and random, how is Amanda friends with someone on Facebook who a friend I used to have is friends with? Maybe that was her dweeb boyfriend.
LOLOLOL. The one who looks like a 12 year old. And you know what, the guy did.

Oh, yeah, Fringe tomorrow. I forgot.

So. Let’s…chat.
Let’s talk a little bit. I don’t know what about yet, but I’m sure there’s something.

No, wait, there isn’t. I’ve got nothing. Nothing at all. It’s GREAT.

I’m just extremely pissed off and want to rip peoples’ heads off. It’s…not the nicest feeling.
I want to get some stuff, and just walk out. Nowhere to go (I know NOBODY here). But I want to go. Out. Away.

Start over with…something. I don’t know.

There is no magicalness of anything.
There’s adulthood, and next thing you know, there’s no job-getting, no random good-ness (other than teh Matthew), there’s no nothing. There’s living on your aunt’s couch.

Yeahhhhh.

I’m not thrilled.

With much.

And talking to teh Matthew about the sparse texting?
Yeahhhhh…most nervous thing I’ve done in a while.
I’m also hoping I didn’t screw up anything.

Kay I need to go now.

stop

Do not read that last post.
It was very bitchy. And I posted it under a minute ago.
And I know that if <PERSON> reads it, they will go WHAT THE FUCK and say “okay bye” and that’s not going to be any good. I’m good about just writing it on here, but I can’t write it on here and pass it off if they read it.
And that wouldn’t go over well, would it. Because you see, I was being bitchy. I normally get to keep that to myself, and normally don’t think that way.
But hey, guess what, it happens sometimes.
Miss Lucy. She sabotages things. And is really really bitchy. And complains about EVERYTHING.

And I think she’s out.
IT’S LIKE HALLOWEEN, only not.

883

Sometimes, I wonder. And that never goes well.
And I’m not pleased at this moment.

But let’s not go there.

No, let’s.

Let’s not.

I don’t know if I want to.

I’m needy.
That’s all I need to say.
And I have no life.
So you see the fault in my math.

Because, according to me, there is PLENTY of time in the day, you just have to use it right.
Meaning there is time from the moment you wake up till the moment you go to bed. And all those moments in between.
There’s a lot of them, in all honesty.
So, because of this, you can use more of it for…other things…and….

You know what, I’m just gonna stop now.

I’m just having a moment.
Damn moments.
DAMN FUCKING MOMENTS.

I think I’m having THAT.
AGAIN DAMMIT GO THE …grrr.
GRRRRR.
That.
That.
I’m not pleased. I’m cranky and I don’t want to be here right now and I just want a fucking bed that’s not a couch or a fucking futon. Which are so not comfortable. On either count.
And I’m tired of watching the fucking food channel and watching all this shit and I want to watch a movie AND have my phone plugged in AT THE SAME TIME (zomgasp) but no, the plug in where I am is half used by something else. Who knows what, what the fuck, but come on.

I’m just really fucking pissed right now.
I should be watching movies. But I’m not. Because I want to rip people’s heads off.
I’m tired of hearing the whining. I’m tired of not eating regularly. I’m tired of the fucking couch. I’m tired of the noise. The food network.
And not getting text messages when….gah. Because I’m needy, remember?

I’m sick.
My stomach hurts. My hips hurt. And my feet and legs hurt too. My mouth hurts, though the inside of the mouth what’s all fucked up from the wisdom teeth is better.
And I’m sorry, but eating just chicken for dinner is not appetizing. And there was a lot of fat in it. I do not eat animal fat. It is disgusting, and makes me gag. Therefore I do not eat it. I am sick now, though, from whatever was on it.

I want to be able to wake up, and take a shower, and get either coffee or hot cocoa and whatever for breakfast (which would be nothing, if I had coffee or cocoa). Then soemthing for lunch. At noon. Like a sandwich. Peanut Butter and Jelly. But I’m leery of the peanut butter. I think the cousin gets spoons, gets in there, then gets in there again with the same spoon. And I’m not eating after her.
Then, of course, dinner.
At 6.
At a table. Or table-like-place. With milk. And napkins. And real plates and real forks. And not fast food. Something (zomgasp) cooked. That isn’t gross. Like hamburger helper.

Maybe I’m picky.

NO, I’m not picky.
I just happen to like SCHEDULE.

But that’s a very taboo thing. VERY taboo. For there to be a PLAN and a SCHEDULE.
And that’s fucked up.
VERY VERY VERY FUCKED UP.
I do not like it.

I DO NOT LIKE IT SAM I AM, I DO NOT LIKE THIS. FUCK IT.

I need that purple car from Florence and the drive to Oklahoma.
I’m pissed right now. Very very pissed right now.
And waiting. I have no idea how long it takes to get from point A to point B, but it’s not a very short amount of time.

I also feel like I want to puke.
Not that I want to puke, but that I’m going to. Not a good feeling.
Sick, I told you.

Sick physically.
And in the head, if you haven’t noticed.
I just need some peace and quiet for a good long while.
SO MUCH SO THAT I WENT TO TYPE “PEICE” INSTEAD OF PEACE AND “QUITE” INSTEAD OF QUIET.

My brain is getting fried.
FRIED.
GET ME OUdahskdhhhhhhfhheheihririirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Yes I’m pissed.
But there are three adults in this living room right now, and a full on keyboard-attack is uncalled for.
As is the typing, I’m sure, but FUCK IT.
But the keyboard-attack is out of the question.
Sadfaces.
Because I need one.
I need to pound something.
Because if not soon, then it will be SOMEONE.
Or SOMETHING THAT WILL BREAK.

Like, heh, someone.

And what fun is that?
Well, for anyone other than me.
I’d like it.

Like last night. I had perfect visions of sadistic murderous rampages. Of everyone. In the beachhouse place.
Other than my mom. Mom can live.
But the rest of them?
I’m REALLY tired of them. Mostly.

And my stomach hurts.

And I’m….gah.
You know, you know, yeah. Just, no.

And couches are uncomfortable. And sitting here is uncomfortable. And I’m stuck waiting for who knows how long and guess what?
I don’t have a choice in the f…yes I do.
There’s always a choice.

Always a choice.
But the alternative is going…where?
EXACTLY.

And I’ll wait for phone calls.
So long as they come at a decent hour and I can still go outside for them.
And so long as they’re good, and don’t make me more pissed off.
Because I can see both happening, though I prefer the former to the latter.

DUH.

duh duh duh duh duh duh fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Heh.

I’m just full of complaints.
This is fun, isn’t it. IT’S GREAT FUN, ISN’T IT.

shore it is.
WAIT, NO IT’S NOT.

I’m not very happy right now.
Or comfortable. Or just…anything other than pissed. I should go now. I should have phone calls soon.

Right?
RIGHT?!?!?!?!??!?!!?!!?

that was intense

Remember how I was going to marry The Joker? And if not him, then Kurt Cobain?
I still hold to that.
Perfect marriage, right there.
PERFECT.

Also, I am not crazy, so stop thinking that.

Also, got the video.
It was everything I thought it was going to be.
I’m very happy.

Least I think I am.

Something’s amiss.
I think it’s the gap of the talking.
I really need to get over the idea that people should talk to me all the time. Life doesn’t go that way. I’d like it to, but it doesn’t. Does it.
It doesn’t.
And I know this, but I wish it did.

Everyone else is not like me. They don’t sit around and wait to get to talk to people. I do.
But they do not. They have more important ways to entertain themselves.
I do not.

At least I admit it, right?

Also, sadsongs are not helpful when not feeling my best.
I knew this already, but I had to re-find that out on accident, didn’t I.

DAMN LUCY.
Wait, or is that Lucy.
Jessica is happy. Lucy is…skeptical.
DAMN YOU CELERY. THIS WILL LAST LONGER THAN ANOTHER WEEK. FUCK YOU.
Right?!?!?
RIGHT?!?!?!?!

I think it works.
It should be just fine. Right?

Also, headphones make my ears feel funny.

And Kurt has such a sad voice. I never realized this before.
But it’s so sad sounding.
No matter what the song.
Though he never had any happy sounding songs, that I have to find, anyway. So, really, it’s all sadness, all around.
Damn.

Okay, on to the Pink Floydness.
It’ll be fun! Right? RIGHT?!?!

It’s always fun there.
I think so anyway. Less sad.

Or maybe I’m just depressed.
Again.
Fuck.
Stress, that could be it.
Again with the not packing. Mom’s being weird. She has to watch football!!! But she’s not watching it. She’s doing who-knows-what on her computer. Because that’s what every responsible adult-parent does, is spend all their time when they SHOULD be packing, on their computer.
Yay. I’m going to fit right into that mix, aren’t I.

Also, I dunno, but I feel like a bum.
I don’t like this feeling.
I don’t think I’m going to like living at my aunt’s all too much. Because there isn’t much…roaming room.
Also, I’m scared to go out in that place, anyway. Florence is not scary. Beaverton is scary. There’s crazy people there and evil things and shit like that. Crazy people who walk around naked under trench coats.
…there was one of those people once where I used to live. And supposedly, a girl got raped in the greenway not too far from where I lived and nobody came out to help or anything.
Yeah. Beaverton is the city.
The city is fucked up.
FUCKERED UP. So much so, we shall spell it PHUCKERED UP.
Because that’s much less offensive.

Yeah.
I don’t know what’s going on.
But my mind is phucking with me, and I don’t appreciate it.
WHY AM I SO INDECISIVE.

And why am I yelling so much?
I feel like yelling. Then punching the wall, and throwing things and breaking the hunk of fake wood that is my desk.
And doing other random things.
I think.

I feel like I’m being ignored.
Not a nice feeling. I’m not actually being ignored. Just…ignored.
It’s a strange feeling.
Like, you say you want to talk to me, but you don’t really do a whole lot of it when the chance comes up, so why say you want to?
But that’s just me, I’m needy, and feel I should be talked with every extra second of the day.
Cuz that’s what I do, if you haven’t noticed.
But, since, that’s not going to happen…I should find happier songs to listen to. Though “The Great Gig in the Sky” is neither sad nor happy.
Other than things it got associated with at the beginning of the year. Stupid clouds.

ANYWAY!

DAMMIT, Pink Floyd is depressing, too.
DO I HAVE ANY MUSIC THAT ISN’T DEPRESSING, yet isn’t insanely cheesily happy?
I think not.
I seriously need some new music.
WAIT, STOP, do not.

What the phuck am I talking about.
I have no idea.

I think I should go now. But I feel like typing more.
ALSO, more text messages. Took a long time. I’m going to assume he was taking a shower then, cuz he said he was going to at some point, or needed to, whatever. So I’ll just guess that’s what he was doing. But that was a fast shower.
Well, 19 minutes. Maybe guys shower faster.

Pink Floyd songs, YAY. I still have to get all the CDs. There isn’t a CD store here, though, so it’s not like I’ve had a chance. Also, the electronics section in Fred Meyers? Don’t go there often. Not the best place to look around – they lack things, you know.

STUPID HEADPHONES FEELING FUNNY. I hate it. It feels like my ear is bleeding. It’s very strange. I don’t enjoy the feeling. Think about it – you feel like your ear is bleeding, WTF?!!?? Right?!?!
Yes.

I think if I had only one blog, and said everything on there, there would be at least two posts a day, and way too much stuff going on.
Then again, I don’t need *counts* five.
FIVE?!!?!?
HOLY FUCK.
I mean, HOLY PHUCK!!
That’s a lot.
I should really condense.
Bah.
I tried that once.
Then ended up getting MOAR.
I’m not good at this.

….I SHOULD STOP NOW, THIS IS GETTING LIKE A COMPULSION…JUST….KEEP….TYPING!!!!!

Mania? Maybe. MAYBE.
WAIT, NO, I AM NOT BIPOLAR, DAMMIT!!!!!!!!

I AM SLIGHTLY SOMETHING OR ANOTHER, BUT I AM NOT BIPOLAR.
I am not totally out on a whim here when I say this. I cannot be bipolar. It’s impossible. I have moodswings that are started by something and I get very angry and I have strange times when I have to make really really really long posts, but that is all.
I am not bipolar. Not in any sense of it.

Also, look, I broke the thousand word barrier for the first time in a long time.
I’m proud. I should get a prize.
OOO LOOK, PRIZES.
I get to keep going, yay!!

Also, I want to do Java again. I say that a million times already, and haven’t yet.
OH I KNOW WHY. Because I am lazy and that requires doing something OFF OF THE INTERWEBS.
Do I ever do anything off of the interwebs?!? I THINK NOT!!!
That’s right.
you fail, havok, you fail.
OH THAT’S JUST CRUEL, GUY!
i am no such thing.
WAIT, WHY ARE WE CONVERSING?!!?!?
i do not know.

THAT’S CONFUSING.

Anyway.
Let’s move on.
Uhhh…wait, why was that a GUY talking?!?! ALL LOWER CASE AND A GUY’S VOICE?!?!?!
That’s new.
PHUCK.

You know what? I think there’s something screwy going on.
And I don’t know why.
Also, lightbulbs and blond jokes.
Just had to throw that in there.

Also, strange noises that sound like doors being closed and opened and it’s not pleasant because it is not out doors.
So it has to be the neighbors. Or really loud TV noises. Though I did not know that football sounded like that.

And I’m lacking text messages again.
It’s hard to have a text message conversation, after having phone calls and such. Phone is so much more…immediate. And lacks typing. And I’m typing on here. And this is so much faster than texting.
I like this. It’s funner. WAIT NO, I like text messages more. I meant the typing is funner. Cuz phone-typing is not fun. I LACK QWERTINESS. It’s very not fun.

ALSO, what else? I have no idea.
UHHHH…STUFF.
There has to be more, this is my BRAIN I’m emptying here, and there HAS to be more.
OOo, check phone, might have messages. Nope, nothin’.
Sadfaces.
Not quite, but almost.
It’s been…almost ten minutes, me thinks.
I’m a very immediate texter. So when people don’t text me right back, it’s unnerving. Because I try to text them right then and there.
Then again, I’m never doing anything else. That’s because I fail.I fail. i fail. u fail. we all fail.

YOU PHALE.

like the twitter phalewhale.

DID YOU KNOW THAT?!?!?!
I think it’s funny.

ANYWAY. What else.
Let’s think.
LET’S…..think.
Like on that……BLUES CLUES, that’s what it was called. With the clues and you figure out whodoneit and I don’t even remember what it was they did, but yes.
I haven’t seen that in forever.
Allegedly, the first guy who was on the show died of a drug overdose. The things I remember from my childhood.  I’m doomed, aren’t I.

OH WELL.
I don’t mind.
So long as there’s pretty explosions along the way. And I don’t kill too many people. And I don’t kill anyone I really care about. Heh.
I guess I do mind. Even just a little bit.
BUT EXPLOSIONS. They are fun.

I also deleted my MyYearbook account.
Was getting too many old(er) guys friend requesting me, and that’s just creepy. REALLY NOW. I’m 18, and you are 35+. You REALLY think it’s appropriate to add me as a friend? REALLY? I’M BARELY AN ADULT. Creepy people of the interwebs are creepy.
I’m hoping that by the time I’m that old I won’t be on the interwebs. Well, kind of. More like not on those stupid KID networking sites. Because MyYearbook IS a kid’s site. I don’t care how many adults are on it, it’s STILL meant for kids. Don’t you notice how half the shit going on on there is FOR kids BY kids?! Yeah. Go back to your fucking MySpace you creep, while all the kids have you blocked cuz you’re an ADULT.
So FUCK OFF.
Err, phuck off.

Actually, I’m not angry at them.
It’s not their fault they’re so weird no real human will talk to them. So they have to add people on the internet they’re never going to talk to, just so it seems like they have more friends.
Yeah, that’s lame guy. THAT’S LAME.

As is yelling at the TV because of some stupid football game.
Seriously, you don’t care. It’s PRESEASON, it DOESN’T MATTER!! You are so…weird. You are obsessively weird, and I just might hate you.
THERE, I SAID IT, OKAY?!?!?!
I hate you.
I hate you all.
But not really.

I hate some of you.
Not all of you.
Just some.
I hate me, too, so it’s not like it’s an exclusive thing, don’t worry.
I feel like I’m saying too much. I’m writing a damn book. You’re not going to read all this. You won’t. And that’s quite alright. All I know is you’re crazy for even COMING here, and you’ve read this far? GoodGod, help you life a better life tomorrow, cuz you just spent who-knows-how-long reading this.

YES. THAT’S WHAT I SAID.
WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?!?!?
I’M TELLING YOU TO LEAVE!!!! LEAVE!!!!!!
I don’t mean it. I don’t want you to leave.
I’m testing you. I want you to stay. If you’ve gotten this far, and know this much, and you’re willing to stay, please stay.
It’s the…just do it, alright? I don’t want you to leave, please don’t leave. You’re the one good thing that’s happened to me in a long time, and I don’t think you’ll turn into an asshole like so many other people did, so don’t do that, okay?
OKAY?!?!?!?!
Okay. Glad we’re on the same page here.

Now, where was I?
OH YES.
Wait, no. I don’t know.
I should listen to my music some more.
WAIT, NO. GET THE JAVA BOOK.
Bah, like I’m gonna do it.
I’m not gonna do it.
I’m too lazy. And don’t want to. but I do. But I don’t. But I do.
WHY IN THE HELL CAN’T I MAKE UP MY MIND?!?!?!?! I don’t understand. I want to do something, but I don’t know what, and I want out of this house, but I don’t want in my aunt’s house and GAH, FRUSTRATION.
*SIGH*

CHECKIN’ THE PHONEEEEE. I lack text messages.
So I shall text him.
And we shall wait.
Oh, and I just broke 200o words. I’m on a roll.
Still talking about nothing, but talking all the same. God I’m a phreak.
LOOZER FREAK.
Err, LOOZER PHREAK.
I am no longer BORG.
BORG is gone.
LOOZER PHREAK IT IS. I think a name change is in store. I think.
Borg is…well, Borg died. A while ago. I don’t even remember what Borg is.
But he’s not here, is he.
I dunno what I’m even talking about. I should go. I’m just rambling. This is frustrating. Cuz I can’t stop.
And I’m lacking text messages.
And he’s ignorning me.
I get ignored a lot.
Nobody’s going to read this.
And he’s not ignoring me, he’s just busy. He has other things to do. Everyone has other things to do. Havok does not.
Havok never does anything.

I really need to get a grip on things.
OOO BEN’S MESSAGING ME. BRB.
OKAY BACK. Now we shall chat for a hot second.
OKAY, I THINK CONVERSATION’S OVER. That took all of two minutes, less than that. We don’t talk about a whole lot, I don’t think.
OH REPLIES, YAY. And that’s the end of that.
Well, whatever.
It was worth it while it lasted, right? RIGHT?!?!
I dunno.

AND NO TEXT MESSAGES BACK.
Gah.
I dunno.
I just don’t know.
I don’t know what I don’t know, but I don’t know a lot of things.

Sounds like mom’s packing up the kitchen. I should help. I don’t want to. I’m going to hide in here.
And that’s that.
YES, I’M IN MY BEDROOM. AND I AM ON HERE. And I am not helping.
What a horrible child.
WHAT A HORRIBLE CHILD.
I’ve always been the bad one.
And the good one.
Only child, yo.

That’s how it goes.

Gah.
Gah.
Gah.
Gah.
Gah.
Gah.
Gah.
I don’t know.
I don’t know what that was all about, but I said it once and I felt like going on.
Why can’t I stop talking? Why am I still on here? I should be doing something.
Something productive. But I’m too…stuck…to go do something else.

I feel cheated.
Also, like my keyboard is hating me right now.
But oh well, it’s getting some good use.
O NOES NEED NEW COMPUTER, LAPTOP DYING. Well, not really. It’s old, has been having some issues lately. At least the stuff on it has been. I also need to back up my files.
Yes. I do.
Somewhere.
Somehow.
Onto something.
Because, well, I just need to. I’m paranoid my stuff will disappear on me. And I really wouldn’t like that.

AND HEY, LOOK, MATTHEW ON YAHOO.
But he never texted me back.
WATCH, HE’S GONNA BREAK UP WITH ME.
I can feel it. Odd feeling. Don’t like it.
Gonna talk like Rorschach. He talks good.
TALKS GOOD.
Sort of…disjointed yet you can still follow everything he says.
Sewers and mess and whores and filth and NO.
Yes.
Makes perfect sense.
WHY THE FUCK AM I STILL HERE.

OH LOOK, MATTHEW MESSENGER REPLIES.
I should talk to him now.
Instead of talking with…this. This page. It’s boring. But I keep coming back, obviously. It’s compulsion. Very much so. Can’t you see that? I think you can.
This is fun. FUN FUN FUN FUN FUN FUN FUN FUN.

Not fun.
I realize that I’m having an ADD moment.
After pausing for a second. I could stop. But I’d have to stop.
I think sleep is in order. I like sleep. It is good. I look forward to sleep. I want some.
I’d greatly like to get some. VERY MUCH SO.
But I got plen…NO I DID NOT. I woke up a zillion times. BUT THAT’S ALRIGHT.

Why am I still here?!?!?
2645.
HOW MANY WORDS IS IN A NOVEL. Almost that many.
YAY LOTS.
I have nothing else to say.
OKAY THAT’S ALL. HAVE TO GO. BYE.
I’m ending this now, so I can say it’s over. And hopefully won’t run off to anywhere else to post.
BECAUSE THAT’S JUST WHAT I WOULD DO. Isn’t it.
YES.
OKAY BYE DAMMIT!!!!!

bye

bye

bye

GRRRR LEAVE!!!!
okay okay okay bye.
BYE.

blackberries

HEY GUYS GUESS WHAT.
BWAHAHAH I WON’T TELL YOU. HAHAHAHAHA. HAHAHAH. HA.
THAT’S FUNNY RIGHT?!?!!?

That’s not really funny, no.

SHORE IT IS, YOU LIE!!

I do not, I think you do. You just don’t want to tell about your new friend.

WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!?!? I WAS GONNA GET THERE!!
Well I can get there faster. There is a new friend. New friend is in Texas. New friend is awesome.

I KNEW THAT!

Well they didn’t.

SO?!?!? WHO CARES. NOT LIKE THEY CARE!!

But they do. That’s why they’re here. DUH.

DON’T YOU YELL AT ME MISSY.

Excuse me?

EEEHHHHUHHHHH…I DON’T KNOW!

Exactly.
Now, before you scare them off…

ME!?!? SCARE THEM OFF?!!? YOU’RE THE CRAZY PERSON!!!!

Me?  Crazy? Who’s the one who’s yelling?!?!?

NOT ME, SILLY!!

Uhhh, right. Like I’m gonna believe that one.

WELL YOU SHOULD, SILLY PANTS.

And who’s calling whom names?

WHATWHERE?!?! I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN.

Right. I’m taking over for now.
Excuse her, she’s weird.
(I AM NO SUCH THING!!)
She lies, really. I dunno where she came from, she just kinda popped up earlier and decided that she wanted out. So, here she is. That’s just…Just…comical. I think that’s the wrong word
(WE’RE THINKING OF LEAVING, YOU KNOW!!)
No we’re not, shut up. Anyway. She’s strange. And we are contemplating a different forum of use. But not like we really need ANOTHER secret house, that just gets shared amongst you all anyway.
(WE HATE THAT, YOU KNOW. STALKERS!!)
Hey now, you’re a stalker too!!
(NO YOU ARE.)
Oh whatever, shut up. ANYWAY. I don’t even remember. Oh yes, wait, no, GODDAMIT YOU DISTRACTED ME.
BWAHAHAHA I WIN.
…it’s not a game.
YES IT IS!!!

*facepalm*

HAHAHAH I WIN!!!

lapses

I realized something.

When I feel that my mom is failing me, when she’s being…non-mom-like…I attempt to do what I think she should do.

Like at dinner time, and it was finished, and she was watching a movie. So I tell her “oh, can you part from your movie to have dinner?” in a sarcasiclyfunny tone and she’s all “hey now, I can see it from the table” (and she can) and so she MOVES THE TV so she can see it better at the table.
And then after dinner she doesn’t do any dishes. At all. Not only does she not do dishes, she goes off and watches that stupid movie again.
Then, later, dishes still aren’t done. She goes and checks her email and starts this girlish scream of excitement. And I’m just like “oh gosh what now” and she’s like “oh he emailed me back” and she’s all “I’m in love” and I’m like whatever.
So I go and I cut up the ricecrispiethings what I made, and take her one, and she STILL has not taken the TWO cups AND the bowl from her bedroom into the kitchen. She’s worse at having dishes in her room than I am. So I take those and get to the kitchen and do the dishes, rather angrily.
First, because she didn’t do them, that’s her job.
Second, she’s acting like a little kid.
Third, she’s screaming like…well, a teenage girl.
Fourth, I’ve already done the dishes today, in two different goes, so that made it three.
And just…she wasn’t being the mom.

And so I was trying to be the mom.
And that frustrates me.
Because I shouldn’t have to.

laughing fits

I have bitterness.
I also am lacking posts on here. But it’s hard enough keeping up with one blog, let alone three. Speaking of which, my other blog on my other account is getting WAY neglected.
Fuck.
Oh well.

And I’m STILL addicted to “Pretty as a Swastika”. It’s very fun. Good angry song.
Good song in general.
It’s awthum (cuth i have a lithp).

And I have to go grocery shopping. Again.
I think I just like shopping, you know?
I do. And grocery shopping makes me feel fancy. YES, I said it. Fancy. And grocery shopping.
But not really fancy, more like…I’m actually doing something and then I go home and do MORE somethings and you know fancy isnt’ really the right word but it works and yeah.
Yeahhhhh…
I dunno what word to use for it. Fancy is a very general term.

And my neck’s all painful from sitting in awkward positions all day. Damn.
Sucky.
Very sucky.

I’ve gotta start stuff. I haveta clean and go through the one binder thing what my mom has with a bunch of recipes in it.   Cuz my dad wants it. First, she could have it. Then she couldn’t. Now she can. But he wants it back.
WHAT THE HELL, it’s a fucking recipe book, with recipes PRINTED. FROM THE INTERNET. Google it.
BOTH OF YOU.
Grrrfrustrations.
Very frustrating.
Whatever. Nothing very good in there anyway.
I think.
I don’t remember.
There’s a good one still in the cupboard at my dad’s house, though, that’s not in the book, that I want a copy of. SO HA.

Adults, sometimes, you know, they frustrate me.
As do non-adults.
Everyone frustrates me. Quite a bit.
SO HA.