I really don't feel like writing. I have no inclination. Not even a little. Every time I think about jotting down a brilliant post, outlining my boring day, something, anything, I pause and think, "Why?" Is there a purpose to this? I'm not sure there is. *sighs* Oh well. I'll give it a shot. After all, I'm good at faking enthusiasm when the situation calls for it. Then again, once I start writing, it's hard for me to stop or slow down. Witness - the acceleration.
Today was absolutely stunning. Last night, as I was perusing my old journals (of which there are three), I found and subsequently read a scene from the sequel (which I haven't written yet) to the book I haven't finished yet. . . don't try to decipher the chaos . . . . and it made me so giddy happy that I actually hugged myself before clapping in utter bliss like an idiot. That's how great this little, less-than-a-page scene was. Yeah, I know. *nods sagely* :P
Anyway, so that put me in a good mood for most of the day. I almost, keyword almost, tripped going up the last flight of stairs (again) on my way to the third floor for second period (again). Have I reiterated enough the word 'again'? Luckily, I didn't face plant it, nor did I bang my knee or spill my books and calculator for the world to see. *grins* I caught myself, so it wasn't a major skip-the-step incident, just a minor one, while my friend grabbed my arm rather quickly to make sure I didn't face plant it . . . again. We've concluded, unanimously, that I need to relearn how to walk. *smiles* What can I say? It did give me quite the adrenaline rush though (which may have been caused by the combination of walking up three flights of stairs, adrenaline hyperventilation/panic at another incident that could have ended badly [but thankfully didn't], and laughing/retelling the story that should never be mentioned again) which lasted all through the rest of passing period, and a few minutes into class as well.
On the bright side, when I was walking up the stairs last week with another of my friends, she remarked on how gracefully I seemed to flow up the stairs. Big ego boost, wouldn't you say? I told her, as I will tell you, that because I am rather large-er chested (and please never ask me just how much larger) than all of my high school friends (and possibly even acquaintances, though you would never really notice, nor can tell all that much, thankfully) I have perfected the way I walk on the stairs to minimize, and god this phrase is embarrassing even in my head, all possible, and inevitable, bounce-age. *laughs, shakes head at self* Needless to say, it still hasn't prevented me from not quite stepping on the steps at times, and losing my already precarious (though hopefully at least slightly graceful . . . ?) balance. *grins* Yeah, I'm sure I lost you way back at the last paragraph, didn't I? Still laughing? Good.
Moving on.
This weekend will be such murder to the senses, I don't even know where to begin. I believe Sunday actually has a high of -8 and a low of -18, not counting the 40 mph wind speed. I think it comes to around -65 degrees, all in total. Ouch. Good thing I don't really have to leave the house. *smiles devilishly* Mom does though.
Wow, I have a lot of convoluted sentences today. Very lengthy, full of much parentheses action and commas. Sorry. I'm sure it is quite arduous to read so that at least a fraction of it comes out in coherent, understandable phrases. Oops. I tend to get caught up in the words. I never know when to stop a sentence when I'm in this mood, because hey, every single word is important. . . . right? *sighs, rolls eyes*
Oh, and by the way, I'm apparently quite laughable when I say the word (part of my childhood culture. . . . too dramatic?) . . . . . . get ready for it . . . . . . . . y'all. Yeah, it ain't special when my English teacher used it, my friend L. made that all too clear when I pointed it out to her in class. My y'all is special because, apparently *insert eye roll*, I say it with a twang, a little country/southern accent and something or other. *scoffs* Whatever. I don't know. Maybe I say it a bit differently since I am, after all, from the south. And who wants to waste breath, mouth maneuverability, and all around effort saying "you all" when they could quite easily simplify it and use y'all? *sighs* It's beyond my mental capacity to entirely dissect this puzzling . . . puzzle.
But I've overstayed my post. Anyway. I just read this book (a very quick read, by the way) called "First Kiss (Then Tell)" by Cylin Busby (great name, eh?). It caught my eye in the library (which happens a lot, and is why I never do my homework in the library, as you can often see me coming out with a stack of twenty books and a little time card that says "Sorry - full, no room nor time to read"), and I just had to read it. It is a multitude of short retellings by various authors/poets/comic book writers, all discussing their real-life, true - not fabricated, "First Kiss." It is alternately hilarious, disgusting, and overall sweet/dissapointing. I loved it. I laughed quite a bit, too. So, if you feel like it, there ya go. It's a very good fluff book, quite endearing and priceless.
And now that I've done ramblin' this evenin', y'all have a good night. *insert southern accent*
*rolls eyes* ;)
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