It's funny,

Only now do I realize this almost obvious fact.

If my conversations with C. were face-to-face at the moment, I'm almost certain there would be a lot of annoyance and possibly even exasperation.

I'm not sure if I really do like him, or if I only like the idea of him. Cliche as it sounds.

I can't believe he's got me uttering such used-up sayings when describing him. *sighs*

Then again, he might be adorable enough to make up for all mental-stubbornness. Enough to distract, or not.

Gad, I'm not making any sense anymore. Fuck. I should go to bed now, that would be wisest. *frowns* But when have I ever been wise? (cough - C. - cough cough)

Oh well. *smiles*

Sweet dreams.

Smile.

I love this. I absolutely adore this feeling of infallibility.

*grins*

I think my hair might be playing a factor in this feeling, which goes to show I can still be shallow when I want to be. *smiles wider*

Oh boy. But now I get to go wash the dishes. *grimaces*

Just goes to show, nothing lasts forever.

No surprise.

Gad, I am so tired.

But on the bright side, thanks to my random, immature conversation with L. early this morning, I had nothing but immature (and altogether semi-pleasant) dreams. I dreamt about my old crush D. and a guy who used to be in my Latin class (and isn't that bad looking himself). I didn't even need my music at all. Not even once. *smiles*

Bless L. and her random ways, her amazing ability to match me in peculiarities.

It didn't work out quite so well last year when I stayed up all hours chatting with a big guy who graduated last year. That conversation took a turn for the more (how to say it?) sexual. (though it was still amusing, I'm sure he somehow got the impression I was flirting with him, which I seem to unconsciously do.) I still had bad dreams after that conversation, and thus was born my poem "Talisman" which came out rather well, horrible dreams and "distraught" mind notwithstanding.

But thanks to L. I had the best, most inconsequential dreams (well, to a point. it wasn't entirely immature, more insignificant really) than I've had in ages.

Finally a dream I can look over once or twice and then forget, or if I so desire, bring back up for more pleasant dreams, a nice alternative.

Something to dwell on when I shouldn't be dwelling on C., at the very least.

Finally, a break.

The dark circles under my eyes in the morning might be attributed to something else this time. Staying up all night to chat with my best friend L.

I may have found the new love of my life: chatting on the internet. It's a great place to express myself at three and four in the morning, when things are starting to make less and less sense as you say them, but sound funnier as you go.

Life is great that way.

I'll go to bed with a smile, tonight. (or this morning, if you want to get technical)

L. has assured me I have no need to worry whether or not I'll get my scholarship on Monday. Nevertheless, I will.

I'll still shake in my nonexistant boots until I read the email which will decide my fate.

Dear lord, help us all.

The email which will decide if I ever see C. The email which will either clinch or destroy all of my aspirations.

I should stop now.

I'm going to jinx myself.

I'm not going to get it.

That's for sure.

Shit, how am I going to fall asleep now? *looks frantic*

Those Eyes

Well, here it is. My story. I wouldn't feel comfortable posting it anywhere else. This one has a more personal element to it, more than the others I've written, or more obvious anyway. This story stems off of a dream I've had before. An imagined scene playing over in my memory, filling me with something I haven't begun to interpret. Finally, it finds release upon this wearied paper.

Those Eyes

“How are you feeling?” He asked, his eyes ripe with concern and something intangible, lurking behind their dark brown façade.

“I’m tired, I feel pulled in a hundred different directions (made worse by sheer distance), and my heart hurts, so much.” She finished, her clenched fist pressed to the part of her chest where her heart lay, beating inadequately, leaving her hands and body cold in the summer heat.

He flinched imperceptibly, taking in the shadows that seemed etched into the smooth skin just below her pale eyes. He felt his hand twitch as he tried not to clench it into a fist. This is my fault, isn’t it? He thought to himself. Somehow, he’d known this would happen, all those long months ago. As she turned her head away he silently condemned himself for being so thoughtless, so selfish. He could have prevented this, had he wanted to, had he even thought to try.

Fighting the urge to lean in closer and read the answer in her eyes, he asked her quietly, “Did you have anything in particular planned, for while you were here?”

She looked back at him slowly. “Not really. I was just going to stop here for the night, try to get some sleep, if I could.” She looked down at her lap, and for once he felt ready to damn the thick eyelashes framing her eyes. He had never felt so helpless, he was sure. All those times before, when his life had felt so completely out of his control, didn’t come close to this feeling of powerlessness raging within him. Had that really been him, all those long months ago? Had he really been the one to say those hateful words?

“You shouldn’t rely on me. It isn’t a wise thing to do. I can’t be there for you, not in the way you want me to be.”

How could he not have seen what was happening before his very eyes?

As he started thanking whatever power was out there for leading her to cross his path tonight, for letting him find her despite all the odds against him, she sighed.

“Don’t blame yourself. That’s only too easy to do, I know. But even if you had been there for me,” he winced at the words she used, free of the rancor and bitterness to which she had justifiable rights to, “nothing much would have changed. We’d still be where we are today.”

“You know that’s not true,” he answered stiffly, disgusted with himself.

She lifted her eyes, slightly startled, and looked at him from beneath her eyelashes. He felt frozen, appalled at what a single year had done to her, horrified with himself. The circles under her eyes were more pronounced from this angle, darker. Their bruise-like, purplish tinge surrounded them completely, encircled those eyes he adored so much. His heart stopped beating momentarily as he realized that eyes like that could only be found, could only belong, in a hospital bed, waiting for sickness to overwhelm, and death to come.

What had he done?

For a second she gazed at him like this, entirely innocent of the pain she was opening him up to. Then she stood, stepping away from the wide bench. With light feet she crossed the soft grass, giving him fresh heartache as he watched her, remembering how closely her eyes had matched that brilliant, vibrant grass. Halfway to the wide oak, she stumbled. As she fell forward she caught herself with her hands and twisted around, landing with a resigned sigh on her back before she raised herself up into a sprawled, sitting position. She caught his gaze with a sudden flash of anguish, and suddenly there were tears in her worn, frustrated eyes.

Already bounding off the bench, he half-ran to stand before her. He helped her up, grasping her cold hands in his own, and said angrily, “This is my fault.” And then she was collapsing into him, held securely within his embrace, both of his arms wrapped firmly around her shoulders and back. Leaning into his chest she inhaled, closed her eyes. She tried to memorize this moment, to imprint onto her heart this feeling of love and concern and warmth all wrapped up in one man.

“Why couldn’t you have told me?” He asked her, giving a huge, gusting sigh. All those nights she had lain awake, all those tears she’d cried alone. His heart gasped at the pain, stumbled beneath the weight of the guilt that he felt.

“It wouldn’t have been fair.”

Pulling back, he lifted her face in his palm, letting his thumb linger just beneath her shadowed eyes. “No,” he whispered, “this isn’t fair. Can’t you see what this does to me?”

Blinking back tears, she twisted her face self-deprecatingly and looked away at the evening sky. “What else was I to do? I couldn’t put that on you. It wasn’t your burden.”

Heart heavy with shame, buried his face in her hair. “It was. It is.”

“No,” she let out on a strangled sob, and then pulled away from him, struggling ineffectually to break out of his grasp. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” He asked her, agonized, tightening his arms around her. His heart wrenched from his chest when she continued to struggle desperately, his lungs seemed to shrink, his throat close up.

“I won’t trap you. I won’t. Don’t stay.” Her face crumpled then, tears flooding her eyes in an endless stream.

He placed his hand at the base of her head and looked into her eyes, his own blazing with intensity. Then he said forcefully, stubbornly, “No. I won’t.” They stared at each other for a long moment, lost to the world, each one searching the other’s depths to find the answer, the will. Finally, all the tension fled from her body, the struggle went out like a star at dawn, and she sank into him, still crying. She tucked her head into the hollow between his collar bone and neck, her fingers clinging to his back. He held her close to him, as gently as though she would shatter at the slightest breeze, and breathed into her ear, “I’m not going anywhere, not anymore.” He shook his head, knowing she would feel the movement. Then he clenched his jaw, hoping she wouldn’t notice.

How many times had he screwed up with her before? Yet each time, she’d come back. Unaware of what kind of mess she was gravitating towards. Unbelievably, she’d come back to him, despite his endless warnings. But he’d screwed up one time too many, let himself think she would always be there, would always come back. She hadn’t. Would she stay this time?

His heart sighed.

He closed his eyes, brown eyes swimming in thankfulness and wonder. She had come home, inexplicably. Of course, he wouldn’t lie to himself and believe that this place was her home. No, he was her home. These arms that had waited years just to hold her, this heart that hadn’t beat until the moment he first heard her voice. Nothing had ever felt more right, not in all his life.

“Don’t worry,” he told her. He would take care of her.

He wouldn’t have believed it before he met her, would have discarded the idea as fallacy, but until she had opened his eyes and brought the sun back to his world, he hadn’t even begun to live. His life had started right here, with her.

She was his sun, the light by which he wrote, the beam that guided him through the rocks, his ballast in a raging sea.

He couldn’t have done half the things he had if not for her. His heart wouldn’t be whole, wouldn’t be beating, if not for her.

She sighed and pressed closer. He opened his eyes and looked at the leaves above them, listened as they danced in the wind. What was she thinking, in this moment? He tightened his arms again, reveling in the way her body seemed to fit inside his, the way it seemed to wrap itself around him perfectly. There was no feeling like it.

She looked up, then, leaning her head on his shoulder, eyes still wet. “I should be going now. I need to find a hotel, for the night,” she said in a small voice, sighing at the end. His heart seized and skipped a beat. He couldn’t let her leave him so soon.

Touching the hair at her temple, focusing on the smooth strands, he asked tentatively, “Why not stay with me?”

Her breath caught, and he glanced quickly into her eyes. There was a frown on her face, scrutinizing him. When she found what she’d needed, she said one word: “Okay.”

Something blew through his chest, filled his lungs to bursting, carried his heart away. Her word, her voice, stole every particle of him that kept his soul bound within his body. He felt his chest expand, pride and incalculable joy engulfed him entirely. Feeling humbled that she would choose to give him another chance, however small, he closed his eyes and set his forehead against hers.

Smiling, he answered her with one word, brimming with a thousand untold emotions: “Okay.”

And it was.

He would hold her, tonight, enfold her into his body. He would measure his heartbeats to the sound of her breathing. He would keep her safe, protect her from the shadows lurking behind the stars. He would fill those empty spaces.

And he would fall asleep with her, knowing, for the first time in his damned life, that there really is something to look forward to, beyond the night.

Knowing, in the morning, there’ll be hope within her eyes.

finite.

Every time.

"Every time I hear your name" by Keith Anderson.

I never thought I would truly understand this one. But it seems I do now. Select memories flash in my mind every time I hear his name. It's quite remarkable, really.

I think I'll write another story, tonight. Yes, I do believe that's what I'll do. Maybe I'll post it on here. I'm not sure. Depends how it turns out, if it turns out.

Songs to think of. Songs I think of.
"How do you get that lonely" Blaine Larsen
"But Tonight We Dance" Rise Against

The house is empty tonight. It's a very odd feeling, to not have to rush my way through things. To not have to worry about someone reading over my shoulder, seeing something they aren't supposed to be seeing. I still feel like I should be looking over my shoulder, though, checking behind me. It can't be this quiet. I feel very calm. I also feel like it won't take much to push me past that line, to bring a tear to my eye. I'm far too sentimental for my own good. Where happened to go my practicality? Hah. Out the window, along with C. Too much time away from his straightforward, no-nonsense words and I turn back into this rash, flighty creature. *gives tight smile* I'm not supposed to depend on someone, and I'm pretty sure I don't depend on C. being there anymore. I could, again, quite quickly. But at the moment, I don't. I learned from him, his words really made me think, but I started to give him ever greater importance, with each conversation, which is something I shouldn't have done. I suppose his absence has been a good thing for me, then. A learning experience.

Then again . . . no. I'm not going to say it. It wouldn't be fair. *shakes head*

It's odd. Sometimes, like now, my hand looks almost bony. It isn't. *scoffs* In fact, sometimes it still looks like a little kid's hand. After all, it's only grown a couple inches since I was in first grade. Small, childish, like me at times. *smiles, looks down* Clumsy on a piano, but magic on a keyboard. Stumbling in the kitchen, but swift with pen and paper. Ready to pose at a moment's notice, but shy in the spotlight, every word I write, every emotion I divulge.

I'll push you away if you know too much, and pull you closer until you do.

Guys always want to know what it is we want, I won't be the first nor the last to tell them, and I won't speak for more than me, but to keep it in the plural: we haven't a clue. We're just as confused as you are.

Great move, braniac.

I folded.

I've now got three email addresses. It's weird, you know. Three, and yet I never get any mail anymore. *shakes head* One day I'll use them.

But for now - who knows?

Endless Repetition (the title)

A random tear, a random moment
I did not mean to slip.
Each one I give then leaves me spent
Though one step closer to the end.

I love and laugh throughout the day
The nights just don’t make sense.
Somehow, the shadows are in my way
Sidestep the skipping beats.

Somehow, the shadows are in my way
The nights just don’t make sense.
I love and laugh throughout the day
Sidestep the skipping beats.

Each one I give then leaves me spent
I did not mean to slip.
A random tear, a random moment
Though one step closer to the end.

---

It feels like forever since last I wrote any poetry. Last night, however heavy my head felt (wow, alliteration much?), I scribbled down a couple poems. This seemed to happen a lot last night, as I watched a movie in my room, I'd feel a random tear escape my eye. I'm not sure why. I wasn't especially unhappy last night. Hm. Oh well. It got me this poem, didn't it?

Acoustic.

I tried to relax. But I could feel a frown on my face, my neck was tense, and my eyes were sore. It seems relaxing doesn't work anymore. I gave up eventually, turned off my music, and rolled over, trying to get comfortable. It took me over an hour, maybe over two, to fall asleep, though I was so tired. That doesn't seem to be a factor anymore, either.

"I always wondered why I never saw you with any guys, why you never had a boyfriend."

I just remembered this. I was talking to S. about a month or so ago, and this is all I remember of our conversation. I told him how I'd dated J. (who was already out of high school) and he assumed I'd dated other guys as well. He wondered why he never saw me with any guys? What on earth could he have meant? That I was abnormal, for not having dated during my first years of high school, or ever really. It isn't as though I wasn't the only girl who hadn't. Almost all of my friends didn't date either. *sighs in frustration* Besides, who would I have dated anyway. Him? I've known S. since I first moved here, when we were best friends, when he asked me out in fourth grade. I moved away for a few years, and then came back in seventh grade and he pretended to have forgotten me. I don't know, maybe he does like me, though he sure shows it in odd ways. It could explain why his ex-girlfriend wouldn't talk to me at all while they were dating, but why she seems to be so nice to me now. *rolls eyes* It scared the hell out of me when she said my name (and said hello) for the very first time a couple months ago. I wouldn't have been surprised if the world was coming to an end. *smiles deprecatingly* I'm going to have to ask him what he meant, before this question drives me up the wall.

A song came up randomly in my playlist last night as I was attempting sleep. The actual song has no real relevance, but the type does - it was in acoustic. And I remembered sitting in the passenger seat of J.'s truck, listening to one of his multitude of CDs, and hearing him tell me which songs were his favorites. He tried to introduce me to so many different artists, and I discovered I liked more than I thought. It's probably because of him that I have such an open view on music. I remember he liked to listen to the acoustic versions of songs, said you could get a better sense of an artist's voice that way, said it felt closer that way. Even now, tears still come to my eyes. I can't believe I forgot about that.

It's amazing the things you remember at odd moments.

Tonight.

I'm afraid to go to sleep. Is that pathetic, or understandable?

Rather, I'm afraid to go to sleep in silence. It would be better if I were not alone, but I think the music really does help. My eyes are burning, they're so tired and heavy. What a break this has turned out to be.

Seems I'm finally getting a camera for christmas. I've been wanting one for what feels like years. I'll have fun when I get it, take pictures of my neighborhood, those stunning trees. *sighs*

I'm going to escape the night, tonight. I hope it works. At the moment, if you're wondering, my song of choice (in endless repetition, you'd think I'd get tired of it) is "Leave out All the Rest" by Linkin Park. It's good to listen to, just the right amount of everything, and the lyrics fit really well.

Anyway. That's all I have to say for this day. *sighs*

Thanks?

We're all wondering about that previous post. Well, I went back to sleep (tentatively) and woke up with blacker circles under my eyes than should have been there, considering I went to bed at seven o'clock the night before and woke up at eight-thirty in the morning. Perfect start to Thanksgiving. Perhaps my music is becoming a wall for me, a sort of tonic, shield, a bit of protection. I slept with my music on last night, and woke up in considerably better condition than that night. Even though, for the most part, I get less sleep when I have music playing in my consciousness, it still helps. *smiles*

Thanksgiving wasn't too bad, for the most part, despite the rough beginning I had. My family all went to my aunt's tiny house, instead of my grandparent's house, because my grandmother is just too tired to want to entertain anymore. I saw my little blonde cousin (at nine years old) all dressed up in her black velvet and gold taffeta dress, running around with sticks from her backyard. I also got to see my other aunt, who's always away, and her three little boys. They're are so spoiled, so very attached to their mother and chocolate milk. The real kind. From the store. *laughs* I can't wait to see how they grow up. *smiles* Though I am family and shouldn't play favorites, I still like the eldest one best (he's eight), I know he's going to be absolutely adorable when he grows up, with his dark hair and grey eyes. He'll break a lot of hearts, that's for sure. *chuckles* The middle one is somewhere around four years old, extremely attached to his mother, and has the best smile. In a way, he sort of reminds me of a blond Emmett Cullen off the twilight series. He'll be great when he's older, but for now, yikes. Lol. And the youngest is just too young to tell anything out of that. I don't know. My twenty year-old brother, his son and eighteen year old fiancee, dropped by for an hour or so before going to spend the day with her family *rolls eyes*, so we got to see my little nephew. It's funny, he's about two years younger than my four year old cousin, and yet he's just as tall. *grins* He's also about ten times more well behaved, such a little mature gentleman, which is shocking considering who his parents are. *looks ashamed* Okay, I'll play nice-ish, I suppose. *sighs*

Dinner was an interesting affair. I'm sure my aunt wouldn't have been able to finish the entire thing in time if my grandma and I hadn't lent our expertise. *laughs at the silly phrase* I made the potatoes, burned my hand a bit on the handle of a skillet, and served the rest of the family at the tiny table so poorly that I'm sure if I was a waitress, I wouldn't have gotten a tip. Lol.

Despite my frustration with my hair while it's still wet, somehow I can still get it to curl beautifully in the end. *laughs* Or at least, that was the case yesterday. Maybe I won't have to give up the curls when it gets longer. *grins hopefully, rolls eyes*

The one thing that really annoyed me (besides the lack of corn) was the fact that my aunt's entire house was already decorated for Christmas, and if I know her, has been for a while. *rolls eyes* What is it about this year? Everyone has decided to skip Thanksgiving. Downtown has been decorated for Christmas for weeks now, the stores have been selling for Christmas for at least a month. The whole world went from Halloween straight to St. Nick. *growls in frustration* It's sad how far we've gone in demeaning the true spirit of holidays, leaving it a consumer spree rather than a time to spend with family. *shakes head, sighs*

Overall, it was nice. It felt a bit reminiscent of Christmas rather than Thanksgiving, we didn't have a wishbone, and my aunt's eldest son (yeah, the one I love so much) well, he spent the time after dinner playing dress up with my other's aunt's daughter. He looked especially dashing in the blue dress, which went very well with his pale complexion. *grins* We asked my aunt if his father knew about this whole cross-dressing thing, and she said with a smile "What happens in -- stays in --." *laughs* We have some lovely pictures with which to torture him when he gets older. *nods*

Ahh, you gotta love family.

Nightmares.

Nightmares. All I had were nightmares.

I could not even close my eyes without seeing deformed faces, a chase scene, someone intent on murdering me. I died once already. Not even the words helped.

One of the dreams I've had before. I try to save a little girl and end up jumping out a window and killing us both.

What could this mean? I'm afraid to close my eyes, now. What else will I see? I'm even afraid of the dark in my room. The shadows lurking.

Can this be happening again? On my vacation? With no one here to drive them off.

What should I do? Try and sleep the rest of the night, or give it up?

I am plagued with nightmares. What will I dream of next? I honestly don't want to know.

A Fiasco all over.

My head is throbbing. It has been from the moment I got out of bed.

I think it's the illusion of sleep that makes my head protest the day so. Protest the lunch where I'll have the option of either isolating myself with M. outside, probably in the wind. Or putting up with U. and his "antics" inside. He has progressively gotten worse, in my eyes. His character slowly disintegrating, until all I see is someone like my brother, but in some ways - worse. Oh what would he do if he heard that? *smiles grimly*

*sighs* I really should make myself a lunch today. It's quite the best option. Yet, I really don't want to. I suppose I'm like a stubborn mule, at the moment. I just don't want to.

I promised L. I'd make her some brownies for today (because she didn't get to eat any the last time, or at all yet), and wow was that an adventure. I dropped a piece of an eggshell in the batter (which I picked out), I spilled cocoa powder on my shirt, accidentally jerked my arm when I was pouring the vanilla (all over my hand), and, last but not least, dropped the spoon I was mixing with into the before-the-flour-was-added batter (so basically, into the eggs and sugar). *laughs* It was great fun. But the brownies came out very rich, and very delicious. So, job well done I suppose. *smiles* I need to get another recipe for some other tasty treat. I really want to make cheesecake, because I've never made it before, nor have I seen my mother make it (because she doesn't like cheesecake). So that would certainly be fun. Hmm.

Ah, I love how digressing can take my mind momentarily off of my headache. Now I need to go find some symbolism in "A Brave New World" and figure out how I'm going to study for my Latin test today. Hmm. I could use that as an excuse to exclude myself from the group today at lunch, therefore avoiding both U. and M. *laughs* I'm terrible, but I don't care.

Let's hope this day ends well. After all, it's the last before break. *smiles widely*

Meditating.

It seems I've found my own form of meditating. Set my MP3 to a small playlist, turn the music up, lay on my bed, and just listen. Let the sounds wash over me, the images, the scenes. I have to organize my thoughts in some way, catalogue the images and events. It's hard. Extremely so. But I find it helps to listen to the music this way. Good, calm songs, full of pianos and violins and operatic voices and soothing guitars. Well, not the full complement, but close enough anyway. *smiles*

That's how I've fallen asleep the past three nights. Unfortunately, my MP3 died on me last night, so I was without anchor. Though, thankfully, the house was quiet by then.

It's also a good way to ignore for a moment all the things that irritate you during the day. And there were a lot yesterday. Or, namely, one specific thing that made everything else intolerable. U. He has the thickest skull I know. The thickest. I don't know what to do with him. I just want to punch him in the face, but of course, that's what he would really want me to do. I really am going to have to write this story down someday. So far, my best friend L. is the only one who's heard the entire story, or as "entire" as I get, at least. Maybe you shall too.

But all I can think at the moment is 'one more night.' One more night and then I'll have my entire vacation ahead of me, of listening to my music as I fall asleep, of pretending that everything is okay with the world. I have hopes that it will be someday, but not today. I know it'll be a while. *sighs* I just wish it wasn't so difficult to wait. I've never been patient, and I'm only now learning the skill.

Today.

I want to write, but I don't know what to say.

I know that, right now, if I do write something it will come out full of all the bad emotions, nothing pleasant to read. I can't even express what I'm feeling at the moment, it is beyond irritation, beyond anger, beyond anything. If I close my eyes, I can imagine doing something truly violent, my hands want to clench over the keyboard, my jaw feels like it will crack from trying to keep from screaming at everyone around me. If I don't escape this, I don't know what I'll do. Pull my hair out, jump up and down like a toddler, just bash my fist against the wall. I can't even fathom why I'm so blasted angry at the moment, but I am.

Perhaps tomorrow I'll have something more sensible to post. And this day started out so peaceful. *sighs*

Just to let you know.

Thinking is a deadly thing.

I forgot to say,

I've gotten clutzier. Yesterday, I ran into two tables and a chair. The day before that, I sort of bounced off a desk and into a pole, in my math class. *shakes head dolefully*

I wonder why? Preoccupied mind? The continued absence of another, more likely.

Though I am trying to convince myself that I don't really like him that much, that he's really just a friend to me, it's still hard.

I don't like silence, it's the worst thing of all. That's when my imagination picks up and runs away with me, dragging me along. Continually getting my feet knocked from beneath me, stumbling the whole way away. Vivid, overactive mind. *reprimands self, sighs*

Well, I've promised myself that I won't have two very long posts at the same time, so that's all, I guess. I'll have more later, do not doubt. This mind never quits thinking.

Blessed Sleep

This is what I love the most about weekends. This is why I never go out half as much as I should. This is my paradise. Sleep. And I will literally blow up in your face if you wake me up early (well, in person, anyway) on a Saturday. That is the only time I ever get to sleep, so you damn well better leave me alone. *laughs*

Today was lucky. I just woke up about twenty minutes ago. That would make it around thirteen hours of sleep that I got. *sighs* Thank god. I’m not sure anymore if those dark circles under my eyes could get any deeper. This is my only recourse.

I saw the Twilight movie yesterday. Let me tell you, I was so excited. *wide grin spreads across face* I cannot smile enough when I think about it. Lol. I met up with my long-standing friend W. (whom I have known since fourth grade) and her mom and friend. Between the three of them, they had two giant bags of popcorn, two giant pops, and some reeses pieces. *grins* W. kept trying to offer some to me, but hey, I don't eat at theaters. This is something W. has noted from the time when we were inseparable, when we went to movies as 'youngsters.' I just don't eat at theaters. I don't know why, but I don't. *laughs at the memory* But last night, she kept going (and I mean repeatedly, before the movie started) "Do you want some of this?" and I would say no, and she would shake her head and go "You're so weird." *laughs again* I'm adamant in my convictions.

Then last night, after my best friend L. went and saw the movie, she called me and we basically analyzed and gushed over the movie for about half an hour. *laughs* Every scene, every spot where so and so looked the hottest, where we didn't like so and so, and so on and so forth. Lol. We are currently planning a girl's movie night, or as we like to call it "a movie marathon," for when Twilight comes out on dvd. Yeah, we have all the movies planned that we're going to watch. Sad, isn't it? But that's what we do. Of course, whether we ever get around to watching more than two movies is a question all on its own. L.'s place is just so much fun to be at, so relaxing, we usually fall asleep before we're done watching all of the movies. That's one reason why I'm considering moving in with her if I reach my limit at my house. More sleep, more relaxing, and more options available for when you just want to get away from someone else. She has a very big house, after all. *smiles* I don't know what I would do without her. I'd probably be insane right now, without her fresh bouts of sanity, compared to my house.

Another point of excitement, and yes, I am a dork, for the first time I saw the preview for the next Harry Potter movie, the Half-Blood Prince. *eyes go wide* It looks amazing. So many more special effects, that I just, I have no words. Damn them for making us wait until July to see it. By then I'll be graduated and packing up for college, if I'm not already at college. So who will I see it with? *shakes head, sighs*

On the bright side, *frowns at phrase*, looks like I get to do the dishes again, if I ever want to be able to eat something. It is a chore which I hate with a passion, but I seem to have adopted it, thanks to my sister. *scowls* Another example of how much she annoys me, of how big a slob she is. *shakes head* I don't know how anyone will ever be able to live with her without wanting to punch her or at least slap her upside the head. She is so frustrating that I can hardly contain myself when I think of her. Sometimes, (okay, that's a lie) most of the time, I feel like I'm the one who is five years older, not the other way around. Ah, to be mature. *rolls eyes*

But enough rambling, my computer is being agonizingly slow today, so I'll take that as a cue and get off. Oh whatever will I do with my day? *chuckles* If only you could have heard me say that.

Another Really Long Post.

I have a government test today (which I didn't study for). *trembles* Those tests are not fun to take. But that isn't what I've come to write this morning. Besides the fact that it's absolutely irritating how I refuse to do my homework, even if it isn't all that much to do. I could just slap myself up over the head, if that were at all sane to do. *grins, shakes head at self*

I'm going to see the Twilight movie today, so I have something to distract all the day long. My brownies were a hit in Latin. The latin 4's (or us seniors, in a class with some latin 3's (or juniors)) devoured the brownies in less than ten minutes. Lol. I had a couple, but everybody else just scarfed them down. *smiles proudly* I guess they liked them, then.

Yesterday was absolutely freezing. I could feel the winter in the air for the first time all year since last winter. It's late, but it's finally here. *smiles* I'm looking forward to it, actually. I just wish it would snow already. The interminable-ness (no, not exactly a word) is killing me. I'm impatient for our next season, my second favorite next to autumn. Yes, I'm a little odd. But the pristine facade winter gives the world is just so captivating, enthralling, that I can't help but love it even more.

At school, my environmental club set up the recycling for the school, of newspaper, paper, cans, and plastic bottles. Since some of the idiots in our club don't feel like doing the recycling ourselves (cause we have so many other important things to do, like pretend to plan to help Habitat for Humanity), we enlisted a club a month to do the recycling for us. This month is the cheerleaders. Unfortunately, the varsity is out of town, so yesterday saw the 'off-season' cheerleaders (ie: The ones that suck. No offense.) doing the recycling. But they absolutely screwed it all up. So frustrating. We had to clean up after them, picking up all the stuff they missed, or basically: picking up all the paper from all three floors. It was, sadly, not all that surprising to see that they couldn't do it right. Oh well.

I really can't wait for the day when I don't have to share a computer with my mom. That way, if I want to get on, I don't have to sneak in the time in the morning (when I should be getting ready for school) or stay up really late. It's all very inconvenient. And this has only started happening since the school year began. *rolls eyes* It doesn't help that she has to chat online with guys as well, so that between her six online college classes and three online chat-buddies, I get virtually no time on my own laptop. *wry smile* And to believe, this all could have been prevented if I had never introduced her to technology and the real world. *gives aggravated sigh* I am not liking it, at all.

I'll have another post today, if not at midnight, after everyone has gone to bed. It's friday after all, I need to start wasting my weekend, earning a hunched back (from bending over the keyboard), and deepening those shadows beneath my eyes. *laughs at the irony*

What is life without a little something to make you want to scream out loud with the utmost aggravation and frustration? *grins* Yeah, I don't know either.

"Harumph."

I wonder what that sounds like, "Harumph." I don't really know, but if I knew, that's the sound I'd be making right now. Instead, I'll simply have to settle for plain old "Hmph."

I didn't sleep well last night, and I woke up late. But I'm still on time, if that makes any sense. (Yes, it does. I'm extremely slow in the morning. *says slowly (and condescendingly) to self, mimicking L. and her (grins) sometimes patronizing habits* Perhaps today I've sped up a bit so that Hey, I'm still on time!) *laughs* Yeah, I'm not sure either if I have schizophrenia, or just a highly overactive imagination. *chuckles*

I really should be getting more sleep. But it's hard to accomplish. I've never been one for bedtimes. Even when I was younger, I deplored going to bed early (as I was supposed to do). And now that I have a computer to waste all of my time on, it's even harder getting things (I should be getting) done.

I've got one point of excitement (and possible source of energy) though. I'm seeing the movie "Twilight" on Friday!! *grins* I may be seeing it with my sister, but still - it's going to be exciting. I wonder if the movie will live up to my standards? Well, as long as it has a love story in it, something to make my heart skip and my stomach cartwheel a little, I won't notice the things that might make me hate the movie version. *shrugs* Who knows?

I have to order my senior pictures today, which is going to be expensive, somewhere close to six hundred. Yes, "OUCH!" *laughs* I did some of my calculus homework yesterday with one of my friends for a few hours. Thats three hours for only eight or nine problems. *groans* But at least the teacher moved the test we're having back four days, since we are apparently ahead of the where the class was last year. (Don't know how that happened. *cough cough - teacher - cough cough*) So now I have more time to catch up on my math. Yay! *laughs at self, shaking head and rolling eyes*

Anyway, I can't write much today. I must, must, must get ready early. *wrinkles nose* I don't like to rush. It is the epitome of evil, to have to shorten one's stride all because one is late. It's like capitulating to time. *laughs at the drama queen in me* It is a necessary though, so, yeah. Until next time, poor reader.

Oh, and I did make a batch of brownies (a whole batch this time, lol) last night. I'm taking them to school today, to give all my friends a sugar high, straight from the heart. I feel so accomplished. *wipes tear from eye* Too bad I can't give one to you. *frowns* Not sure how that'd work. But rest assured, if you were here, you'd be getting a lovely bar of chocolate and chocolate. I think this batch is better than last time's, if that's at all possible.

*shakes head* I digress. Time to go. Ta!

Imagination

I hate to go to sleep.
And yet, I want to. I'm eager to see what I will dream, if I will dream.
But I hate trying to fall asleep alone. I hate lying there knowing that if Fate had chosen a different path for me, I could be lying with him. But that's just wishful thinking on my part. Even with a twist C. still couldn't be here. Too far away silly, foolish girl. Almost like J. But that's another story for another time.
My imagination is vivid though. Which hurts me more that it does me good. The pleasure is not enough to dull the hurt in knowing it likely won't ever happen.
I can imagine, though.
I can imagine he's holding me in his arms. I can create that deep, even breathing, the heavy thud of his beloved, bitter heart. I can even picture a smile on his face, a real smile, one of joy - erasing all the cynicism and pessimism and bitterness I see. (Wow, I paint him in charcoal, don't I?)
I can imagine a future, a scene of love. I can picture a walk in the city, in the park, one of us snatching a pad out to write something down. (because guaranteed we'd both be writing even then.)
I can imagine and create all of those things, but I can't imagine him with me, here.
And that pains my heart.
It makes me think of all those stories of love truly lost to the ravages of an uncaring, unthinking society. Love which endured beyond even death.
The story of Marie Antoinette and her Comte Axel de Fersen. How could he heave survived after she was killed? (If the story of their love was true at all.) A book series I read once where a girl goes back in time and falls in love with this guy. But, eventually, she has to go home. Such a great love - separated by centuries. She finds his descendent (him, in actuality - reincarnated)and the love that is possible for her. But I don't remember what happens to him.
I think he goes to Africa, desperate to do something to dull or hide or heal his broken, shattered heart. Died in the Nile. It makes me cry. Everytime I think of it.
Why did she get a happy ending, but not him? Why did he have to live and die without her, without love?
Or even in the book Atonement, by Ian McEwan. I absolutely love that book more than anything. It is heartbreaking, but so very real. How, from the very beginning, their love is thwarted and kept from fruition, all from the mistakes of one little girl's clouded mind. Such a tragic story.
But I'm talking of fictional characters.
Still, these stories of the heart, of the soul, appeal to me like nothing else.
Probably why C. appealed to me so greatly in the beginning.
I just can't help it, I'm a very sentimental creature. Must be the hormones mixed with poetry. Deadly combination. You get a sort of Byronic, lovestruck, Emily Dickinson-like spinster.
Bound for a broken heart and nothing more.

Questions

What is it that disillusions some people? Turns their hearts so bitter and brittle and breakable? It saddens me, mostly because I can't see any viable solution. All I want to do, when I see someone I know so black of heart, is wrap my arms around them. The urge is stronger when it's a friend, more than likely since I always wish someone will do so for me.

So far, none has.

I can't blame them, however. They haven't much experience dealing with those things, nor do they truly see me at my blackest (those are the days I skip school and avoid everyone). It's become a habit this year. Skipping school. My mom won't let me skip more than two days in a row though. Recently this year, really, there are just those times where I know if I were to be in public, disastrous things would happen. Maybe I would start crying, maybe I would literally hit someone, mental breakdown, emotional fracture-lines. I'm so afraid that it will happen, and I won't be able to control what I do. So I avoid. I lock myself in, I shut down - mentally. I won't answer even my best friend's calls. She's learned that I won't answer even her, after several attempts.

This is my process.

Who knows if it is effective, or good for me. Maybe it is like my avoiding eating as often as possible - hopeful, 'pretend' starvation, mimicking complete devastation. I'm sure we all know what that means. Killing myself. I haven't found a good method yet, so maybe I'm testing my own limits to see which way would be best. But I'm not suicidal, just - preplanning. In case. *scoffs at self* I'm ridiculous. I'm just, I don't know, almost desperate for something, anything to break the monotony, (to repeat the only phrase I seem to have) the lack of something. It hasn't worked yet, though.

I'll be moving soon. I shouldn't get my hopes up, then. I have to eliminate all possible sources of connection to this place. Once I'm gone, there's no coming back here, no going back. *so cliche, I know* Still, it's true. I don't want to be tied to here. I just want to be gone.

I cannot rise from the bottom of the sea if I'm still attached to a rock below, I cannot rise if I'm being held back, pulled down, if all my efforts are resisted and ultimately useless. Like swimming against the current, running towards the wind, carrying the world. It can't be done without killing yourself in the process - and in this case, I'd be killing my heart. There are too many horrible memories connected to this place, I need to cut them off. Separate, distance, myself from them. I remember too much, too often, for comfort. But I'm not unhappy, I'm simply not content. That doesn't make sense.

I'm fine, for the most part, until I actually think, contemplate, breathe, live. Then I see there is something missing. Something not quite there. I'm whole, but I'm riddled with holes, pinpricks. Shine a light behind me, and you'll see stars. My heart will shimmer in the dark, the moon centered and shining brightly from within it. *smiles* Metaphors. Don't we love them.

So, back to the original idea of this post: Can I ever help a bitter heart? Heal a disillusioned, stubborn mind? I fervently hope so, because if I can't - all is lost. Or at least, until something happens. And then, well, I don't know. Then I'm lost.

My mom is a child,

And because of that, I'm seriously considering moving into my friend's house. She's offered, and she has a spare bedroom, a big house. It would solve so many things, though of course, still complicate others. But honestly, I don't know how I'm going to stand living another six or seven months here.

Now that my sister has moved back in, both of their god-awful, obnoxious, frustrating habits have amplified by ten. If such a thing could be said, they're running me up the walls. They are both such slobs and hypocrites. And my mom is so *?>!@W!#* stubborn that I can't stand to be around her anymore. Stubborn pride. The worst kind.

I never imagined I would seriously consider leaving this house before I graduated, but right now I can't even consider staying. *sighs heavily*

Enough ranting. I have a test to study for. And my mom just got home. Great. *rolls eyes* Ta for now.

Frustrating.

Yes, this is the epitome of shallow frustration.

My hair is getting too heavy to stay curly. Absolutely annoying. Now I have to find a new way to style it. Okay, maybe not that drastic, but you get the idea. This is one of those things you find out while you're rushing to get ready, without time to figure something out.

*frowns* What does disgruntled look like? Hm. Never mind. *rolls eyes* I obviously don't look it. Perhaps a bit petulant. *laughs* Such is life.

PS. Do I sound a bit bi-polar, schizophrenic maybe? *smiles* I guess my emotions are so shallow at the moment that I can change them easily, but doesn't it at least sound like a conversation? Albeit, a bit one-sided, but nevertheless.

*frowns* I seem to use the word 'but' a lot. Why is that? Hm. Must remedy. . .

No such luck.

I didn't dream at all last night. Was I that tired? Or my mind that unmotivated. *sighs in frustration* I don't dream all that often, after all. It becomes exciting when I do, so I always make a big thing out of it. I guess I don't sleep enough anymore to dream. *frowns*

My bed seemed larger when I woke up this morning, larger and yet smaller. I wonder how that works? When I woke up this morning it was almost like a scene from a movie - elbows propping me up, blankets ruffled and warm, eyes blearily assessing my bedroom. *laughs* Why did I describe that? I must not have enough to say.

Okay, I can take a hint.

Goodnight.

I want to bake something for my Latin class this week, but I have so many tests it's almost scary. One for wednesday, thursday, and friday each. How I love grading periods. *sigh*

I think I'll still make some brownies though, since we have cocoa powder for once in a blue moon. *grins* I love using stupid cliches. Such fun.

So, I'm having a difficult time deciding whether I like M. or not. It's hard to tell. I'm not attracted to him, that much I know. Of course, it isn't as though we've ever done anything. Even when he asked me out he was too shy to initiate anything. (and yes, I will generalize, thank you very much) I really don't have a problem initiating anything, I'm just not going to do the initiating first, if that makes sense. I'm not going to start something I've never done before, when I may not even like him that way. But he does have the best eyes. They're the perfect kind of eyes. Hazel. *sighs* And he's got those kinds of eyelashes all girls envy, except for myself. *grins* After all, my eyelashes are just as great, and better. *laughs* The one part of me that I will always be vain about are my eyelashes. But my eyes themselves aren't nearly as great. They're too pale a green. Hmph.

I made myself a lunch for tomorrow. "See, mom, I can do it!" *laughs* My mom doesn't care. She never cares. I'm folding. But I'm going to have to make it up somehow, aren't I? Eh.

I wonder if I'll dream about C. tonight? Hmm. Would be nice. Then I could wake up with a smile on my face instead of a groan.

Math - to do, or not to do? Nah, no question involved.

Okay, so I can't seem to do my math. The light has gone out for the moment. Is it flickering, or dead? I know I can do this, I've done it before. Yet, I can't do it today. Is sleep the issue? Concentration? Distraction? Will these remedy my lack of remembering the processes and formulas, the rules? *frowns* I didn't think my ability to be distracted (ADD, folks) so easily would ever affect my ability to do my homework/classwork. No, that's a lie. I always knew it would. But it's a nice excuse, anyway.

I find I need to completely isolate myself, now, just to focus on my work. Music helps, too, sometimes. I can't even have my cats in my room, either. Just their presence is a distraction.

It is a battle with myself to push everything aside and just work. My computer, notebook, and books don't help much in that department. Good thing I don't text, or talk a lot on my phone, or instant message people. Then I'd be screwed. My friend who just moved to Oregon is big on texting. She'd never shut up, figuratively of course. *shudders at the possibility*

Musing.

I wonder if I'll eat lunch today like a good girl. Probably not. That means I'd have to make a lunch. Why do that? I've discovered over the past two weeks that I can go without it. I haven't progressed to anything more than that, though.

Breakfast is hard to skip, it's a habit and ritual so very much engrained in me. And dinner, well, mom would start to notice if I stopped eating dinner. It disgusts me. I used to be the one everyone expected to eat seconds, a lot. No more. I've learned. You don't stay healthy, or keep a moderatively healthy weight, when you eat too much, and especially too much of the wrong thing. Maybe that's why I haven't been to my grandparents house since about June. My grandmother tends to make a lot of food, and not exactly salads either. And my grandfather always goes "Do you want some more? Maybe some dessert?" Ugh. I love them, but how else am I going to control how much I eat?

It's harder now, though, now that my sister has moved back in with me and my mom. She's never had much of a healthy lifestyle. Smoking, fast food, pop, chips, ice-cream, and everything else bad in between. It's easy to see how she's overweight. Bad lifestyle. I've tried to avoid it. I've done pretty well, too. If I didn't love to ride my bike so much, I'd be in a worse situation. Of course, living with winter doesn't help that. I haven't been able to ride my bike since last month. Which sucks. Those first weeks after stopping I had such energy jitters, since I had no outlet for all that extra energy. *makes face* I've toned down, again, which isn't good. Not good to get stuck and familiar with a sloth life. But how else am I to work out? Treadmill? Loud, noisy, inconvenient treadmill. I don't know. I'd have to find a way to fit it into my day.

Create a habit. Difficult, let me tell you.

But I should be getting ready, right now, not typing. *rolls eyes* However do I get things done, if I'm sitting at my computer all the time? I don't know. Yeah, I don't know a lot of things. Sad.

Obviously.

Dark circles seem to be a permanent fixture on my face now.

I had a dream about C. last night. I dreamt that he came for me, as he once promised me he would. Silly, foolish girl. He's much too busy, and much too far away for that. I know this. Maybe in a year, when I move closer to him by necessity. But my new front yard seems to be a nice backdrop. Hm. I never thought I'd be dreaming about him. But it was nice. I wonder if I'll dream about him again. There's something to be said about seeing him, if only in my head.

It's amazing how I've only just recently realized that I'm a garrulous writer, so I wonder how many posts I will be putting up. Quite a few, I'm sure. Where else will I talk? C. is too busy for me. I think I have attachment issues. But that's okay, it's not stalker-like attachment. God knows I've experienced it myself, so I wouldn't want to wish that on someone else, much less at my own hands. *shudder* I think for me it's just a wistful, wishful attachment. "What could be" or some such line. I wonder, and I think, too often to focus. Oh well.

Love?

I've been thinking about this for some time. For over a year, now, actually.

How can you actually tell if you like someone else?

It's pretty hard for me to know, myself. There are two reasons why, I'm sure. Maybe more. One, I'm such a nice person that I don't hate anyone else. People don't make me angry, they annoy me, and people don't annoy me - they amuse me. I'm too good-natured, at times. My friends have remarked upon it time and again. But I don't mind, really. That way, I don't have enemies. Everyone likes me . . . I think. And two, I'm so easily persuaded. Others might call that too ready to please, or too gullible, or too featherheaded to know myself. But that isn't really it. I change so easily, I'm so adaptable. I'm too ready to trust, and yet too stinting in my trust. I might come to "like" a guy, but then my friend will make a comment about him, and I suddenly see another side of him that I don't like. If I spend a lot time with someone, I tend to mirror their habits. This happens quite quickly, too, which annoys me. I'm not myself, I'm everyone else. If I read one kind of poetry over a period of time, I start to write like that, unconsciously.

So how can I know if I really do like a guy? In my mind, I have this never-ending pro-con list. Sometimes one side is heavier, other times it's not. So, at some times I like the guy, and at others, he can't do a damn thing right.

Like I've said: annoying. So, others don't bother me so much, but I bother myself. Evens things out, in any case. *rolls eyes, shakes head, sighs heavily*

I feel sorry for any guys who like me, if there are any. I've never admitted this, except to a couple of my best and most long-standing friends, but I've never been intimate with anyone. I had a boyfriend when I was fifteen, (and he was twenty going on twenty-one), for about four or five months. However, the most we really did was hold hands. He kissed me good night once, and I was going to lean in to kiss him, but since I was so nervous my head jerked, and he sort of missed. It was so embarrassing, because then all he did was kiss my forehead and tell me good night. Mortifying.

So I've never been kissed, and rarely been hugged or held. People are always telling me, I'm so beautiful, so smart, so great. I don't honestly believe them. I mean yes, I have moments of vanity in my bedroom where I think I'm not so bad after all. But I haven't been asked out since I was fifteen, and over the last six years, I've only been asked out by about six or seven guys. What on earth am I to believe? That I, at 5'6'' - 5'7'', am intimidating?

It doesn't make any sense. Yet I crave that intimacy, that feeling of contentment. I probably want it more simply for the fact that I've never experienced it. I'll be moving in less than a year, will I have to wait until after then? Have I passed up any opportunities because I know that, or because I'm still too afraid to trust anyone?

Oops. . .

So, I took a tumble up the stairs a few days ago. I didn't think much of it, besides finding it overwhelmingly hilarious. It's amazing to me still how clumsy I can be. After all, I try so hard to be graceful. And I feel like I succeed most of the time, until I run into a door jamb/table/wall, or trip over something. Then I feel so incredibly amused at myself and the entire situation. I've ceased to be embarrassed.

I've made it a saying of mine, "I've fallen so many times, now, that I've learned how to do it gracefully." And it is true, in its way. Most of the time when I fall down now it doesn't hurt, I don't get scrapes or bruises or twist my ankle or pull any muscles or even wrench my wrist. Well, most of the time.

Nowadays, I simply mutter my favorite expletive, moderatively loudly. "Damnit!" And then laugh. Just crack up, doubling over for minutes on end until I can see enough through my tears (of laughter) to get back up again.

It isn't anything new.

I tripped getting out of the car on Halloween. Landed on my butt in the grass. Good thing it was dark outside.

Don't get me wrong, though, I'm not overly clumsy, and yet I'm not accident-free either.

But my point of all this was to say that I think this time (damn stairs) I did hurt my wrist. I must have, in trying to catch myself on the top step, as I fell forward, overextended the muscle along my forearm. Or pulled the muscle, or wrenched my wrist, or twisted it, or whatever. In any case, it hurts. So much for writing, now. After all, only I would fall on the stairs and come out bruise free, except for straining my writing hand.

At least I scared some freshmen (who were walking ahead of me) in the process. That cheers me some. I could swear one of the two literally jumped four inches into the air.

Could have been worse.

I could have fallen on someone else's butt, like my sister did when she was a freshmen in high school. Oh yes, it could have been much, much worse.

*knocks on wood*

Just in case. :)

Havoc in the Kitchen(-ish)

So I made a batch of brownies on a whim today. Unfortunately, I'm a bit of a spacey cook. I forgot to check to make sure I had all of the necessary ingredients before I began mixing them. Oops.

To atone for lack of half of the needed eggs (as in, I only had one egg) and vanilla extract, I cut the entire recipe in half. And I must say, other than the huge powder "stain" on my pants from the cocoa powder, it came out well. Like I said, I'm a spacey cook, or rather, a messy cook. Wiping my hands on my pants is a no-no when cooking. As is forgetting to check the oven when baking, forgetting to stir when you're heating anything burn-able on the stovetop, and measuring over the mixing bowl. Bad things are bound to happen. :D

But I made an absolutely scruptious batch of brownies, all from scratch. Even my mom and sister approved of them. I'm rather proud of myself. I'd post a pic, but unfortunately, my camera is in remission. Darn.

Anyway, brownie was a nice addition to the atmosphere of my house. Good smell, and tasty too. :)

Huh.

I never thought I'd be using a blog. I never thought I'd be spilling my words into my computer, setting them free in the internet.

Big step for me, really.

I think I'm going to try. This will be interesting, that's for sure.

I wonder if anyone will ever read this blog of mine. Hm.