Murderous in[Sanity]

I have to think about several things this week. It's going to be tuff (u c wut i did dere?!), but I'm sure I'll make it. Hopefully.

First of all, I seriously have to figure out what in hell I'm getting for my family members for X-mas. (And my friends. Since when do I have so many friends?!) The only thing I'm certain about is that I am not doing what I did last year, which was go "Oh shit" on December 23rd and then have to run to a billion stores in a short 48-hour period of time. That is so not happening again. I've got an idea for my little brother--he's always the easiest. As for my dad...He's a work in progress. My mom however, is a completely different matter. I never have any ideas for her because she never asks for anything; and sadly, she and I aren't on such terms that I can practically read her mind and know what she wants based on her actions.

My friends. I do have a lot of them, but I'm afraid that since I'm on an extremely limited budget due to the unfortunate lack of cash, a job, or any real source of income, I may only be getting gifts for a few of my closest ones. Usually, for my friends, I'll make things for them. This year, I'm short on materials as well, so that means back out to A.C.Moore and the mall and such.

This weekend, I'm going shopping. Wish me luck.

Secondly, I'm also stressing over my novels, of course. Barcode is only a thousand words in, and already I don't understand it! I mean, I have my characters, and I have my plot, but I have no clue what Chapter One is about. As for Lies, I've begun to edit it, and suddenly there are two more pages of bull, rather than two fewer, and I am completely baffled by how this could have even happened. I did, however, work on The Right Amount of Psycho, and that went quite well. Besides the fact that I got 200 words written in more than two hours...So basically, I've no clue where to go with any of my current stories. Eh. This is what I get for attempting to do something useful in December. December equals my fail month.

In third place comes my current inability choose between the two best snacks on the planet: chocolate and air. I think I'll choose air. I had chocolate earlier.

Okay, I feel obliged to post this because--quite frankly--I thought it was hilarious. On my computer, it takes like fourteen days to actually finish buffering, and if it does on yours too, watch it anyway. It is so worth it. And it does show how creepy Edward Cullen is.

No, I don't hate Ed. He's okay.

I just think he's a typical, in-your-face-wanna-be-hero-but-can't-coz-he's-some-blood-thirsty-psycho who's got a hot, rich Daddy-doctor and a beautiful face and a stupidstupidstupid romantic way of saying things that almost makes me want him but also almost make me wanna puke. I mean, he's not bad, he's just too perfect, if you catch my drift.

Why, yes, I am Team Jake. All the way.



Oh, I adore Robert Pattinson himself, just so we're clear. No qualms with this man heeyurr:



No problems with him at all. I do, however, have qualms with these guys...WHY must they be so damn adorable?!
---
Some Jared Leto:


GASP. He even looks as wonderful as he sounds on his albums. Incredible.
---
Ohhellyess, Farrell (accent+looks+personality=WIN):



Ghetto much, Colin? Who cares. You're hot, anyway.
---
And my personal favorite...Jamie Campbell-Bower, of course!:



Awwh, he lookth so happeh. :3 *yes, I see you in the background, Johnny Depp's lips. you can't hide from me!*

And so concludes my moment of eyecandy photography. (:

Thus, I have defeated the November Monster! Of course, this monster is special, unique; at times, it was huggable. Most times, it wasn't.

Most times, it drove me nuts. It was intolerable. It bounced off the walls, spun in circles, shouted at me, slapped me, kicked me, pushed me down, teasingly dangled caffeine and sleep in front of my nose until I honestly couldn't take it anymore. But, GOD DAMMIT, I kept getting back up and hitting back, because--um, News Flash, my friend--I'm just as much of a psycho as any November Monster ever is/was/can be/will be/has ever been. I perservered, through all the torture, and HELL YES! I totally won!

My novel is, of course, a total piece of shit, there are gaps that would swallow the Antarctic, and my characters are extremely confused--not to mention I didn't even finish the whole book...yet--but I love it anyway. I'm going to send it in to CreateSpace in the beginning of December to have it published (well, only a single copy, my copy, but still)!

Check out my awesomeness rite at dis hurr pl4c3. *clickie*

Well, I've got a thousand and one ideas floating around in my head for other novels, so I'd best be off. Enjoy life, or whatever. (:

I've begun NaNoWriMo today--actually I started it at 1AM this morning. I'm really looking forward to getting into the novel, though I'm not so sure I like how I began it....but who cares? My aim is to get a first draft, not a perfect copy! Between Facebook, friends, school, and life I hardly have much time for NaNo this year, let alone for this blog, but I promise I'll try to get on when I can.

Until next time, whenever that may be, goodbye.

(P.S. The title of this blog also indicates a song by one of the hottest bands ever. No, I'm not obsessed, but yes--I do love them.)

All right, people, I'm back on track! Internet's here and I'm using it to the full extent, as has probably already gone unsaid. Just here to let everyone (ohmygosh, who am I talking to?!) know that I'm okay, and alive, and I'm thanking the Comcast gods.

As of now, I shall be Comcast's advertiser:

COMCAST HIGH SPEED INTERNET. GETS THINGS DONE BEFORE YOU EVEN FUCKIN' THINK ABOUT DOING THEM. Thank you for your time.

And just a mere two days left until NaNo! I'm literally sitting on the edge of my seat with frustration. I've got this whole outline written out but it's completely useless and I can't think of anything else to do. I've designed every single detail about my characters (even the miniscule side-notes that probably'll have like two seconds of mention), and I've even begun description-ifying my numerous settings--but I can't plot a single thing! I'm ruined! *drama*

Over the course of today and tomorrow, I probably won't get sleep, since I'll be thinking hard. Not that a couple days without sleep even matters, though. I mean, once November hits, I won't sleep for a month.

I'm using my neighbor's internet, and I'm not sure how long I have, but I decided to come on and give you an account of yesterday's mall expedition.

Point number one for this session: I went to the mall.

Yes, I went to the mall. I practically lived in Zumiez, Pac Sun, Hot Topic, Aeropostale, etc etc etc--and I did all this while the mother, brother, and grandmama waltzed around a few stores behind me.

Point number two: I bought an awesome stud belt at Pac Sun. (:

But the funniest thing: When I was in Pac Sun there was these two guys who flirted with me the whole time. The first guy (a cutie with glasses whom I shall call Four-Eyes) said to me as soon as I walked in, "You look warm".

WTF KIND OF PICKUP LINE IS THAT.

But anyway, there was this other guy (whom I shall call Pac Man) who actually followed me around the store. He cracked me up so much that I feel obliged to share some of our conversation with you, my imaginary followers.
~
Me: *looking at hot pink and lime green skinneh jeanz and singing along to the music*
Pac Man: I wouldn't go with the pink jeans, if I were you.
Me: Why not?
Pac Man: Well, they may look cool and all, but they only come in regulars and *HERE'S HIS LAME ASS PICKUP LINE* you look like you need a long.
Me: Wow, thanks for pointing that out.
Pac Man: What? What's wrong with being tall?
Me: Just about everything.
Pac Man: Naw, here's a secret. Guys love tall chics, 'coz there's like, more of 'em to love, you know? Plus, tall girls are usually pretty fit.
Me: *catching on the bad flirting right about.........now* No way, man; I'm like the god damn Amazon woman walking down the street and everyone around me going, 'Aaaaaah'.
Pac Man: *laughing his ass off for no reason* Well, you know *ANOTHER LAME ASS THING TO SAY TO A GIRL* my last girlfriend was 6'1".
Me: Holy shit. She was enormous.
Pac Man: *laughing even though I practically insulted his last girlfriend* Yeah, so tall girls are great.
~
And one point flipping eight minutes later.
~
Me: *tying my shoe*
Pac Man: *surprise* Hey.
Me: *has a heart attack* Hi...
Pac Man: Do you want me to like, put together an outfit for you? I'm good with matching colors. *points to blue shirt then to blue eyes* See?
Me: *laughing, recovering from heart attack* No thanks, I'm just looking, I don't really have any money at the moment. *LIES, BITCH, LIES*
Pac Man: Aw, you don't have to buy it, I can just put it together for you and you can try it on.
~
Does anyone else get the impression that he thinks I'm a Barbie? *I'm a Barbie Girl, in a Barbie wo-or-rld. Life in plastic, it's fantastic. You can brush my hair, undress me everywhe-er-ere. Imagination, life is your creation...* I dunno...maybe it's just me...
~
And this is right before I left, when I was buying the belt, after almost half an hour of him flirting and me getting all uncomfortable.
~
Pac Man: That'll be $16.50. Thought you didn't have any money. *impish grin*
Me: *taking the change from the $20* I have four bucks now. *MORE LIES*
Pac Man: *laughing like I said the funniest thing since the beginning of time* Well it's more than I have now. I just paid off my car.
Me: *jealous* I don't have a car. Or a job, for that matter.
Pac Man: Why not?
Me: Not old enough.
Pac Man: You're not in college?
Me: Nope. High school.
Pac Man: How old?
Me: 15. Turning 16 in January.
Pac Man: *looking like he saw Big Foot* You look a lot older.
Me: *sighing* So I'm told.
Pac Man: I'm sure you can get a job somewhere. You really do look a lot older.
Me: Yeah, maybe after my birthday. *taking belt* Thanks, man.
Pac Man: No problem. Come back soon, really.
Me: Yeah, I'll definately be back. To spend my four dollars. Later. *pathetic wave*
Pac Man: *laughing again*
Me: *fleeing for my life*
~
And so ends my mall expedition. I didn't get to stay in Hot Topic long, since Dragonlady is afraid of the store. ):

In other news, Dec bought Call of Duty 3 for Wii!! It's totally awesome. I played it for like an hour last night.

So the moral of the story is...well, come up with one and let me know. Ciao~

Oh. My. HOLYMOTHERFUCK.

I finally managed to get onto the internet. I figured that -- screw it -- I was gonna sneak onto my mom's computer. I'll be doing this a lot. I don't even care. It's been more than a month and I'm seriously suffering from internet deprevation. I've been writing a lot (*total understatement*), and watching hardly any TV, and reading a thousand and one books, and awaiting the few measley hours I have every day to leave the house and interact with other life forms people.

In other news, I can't remember any news, which isn't exactly unusual. I'm just really glad to be back on track -- or almost, anyway.

I'm going to my brother's soccer game tomorrow, and I'm hoping to see my bestie tharr. (:

Besides all that crap, I'd simply like to let you all know that I'll be posting a ridiculous amount of bullshit over these next few days since I have this drive to "make up" all the weeks I missed.

But just so everyone knows -- I'm back, bitches. Just make sure to tell your friends so they have time to get into their bombs shelters. (:

So today is September 9, 2009. The ninth day of the ninth month in the year two-thousand and nine. Since this won't happen again for another one-thousand years, I felt that it deserved a mini-post of its own. And I mean mini. Because it ends. Like now.

Just kidding. (:

A few things that will help this post be les mini:

I started my dance aerobics classes last night.

And I've got it again tomorrow night, from 5:30pm to 6:30pm at some tiny building that I walk by like every day but I've never seen it before (go figure).

I went to my little brother's soccer scrimage today.

And I saw AiLeeN! Ohmygoodgollygosh, I haven't seen my adorable muse in so long, it was really great talking toher again. (Unfortunately, Ailz, I won't be at the game tomorrow evening, since I've got my dance aerobics class.)

Anyway, I'm going to head off to watch a movie with my captors family that the prison warden my mother picked up from the ghetto Giant today.

...

My, my, what a perfectly ruined sentence...

But yes. I wrote about two thousand words for Lies yesterday, which isn't too bad. I'm still aiming for 250k by December 31st, which -- in case you were wondering, and even if you weren't you'll read on anyway -- is going to be a Blue Moon. So exciting. (:

Well, have a nice rest-of-the-night, my lovely minions.

So maybe I don't have that Linksys card yet. Maybe my neighbor's internet enjoys pissing me off. Maybe the 'Enter' button on my calculator is choosing not to cooperate. Maybe there's someone out there deliberately trying to make my life hell.

Well you know what, you stupid demon, whoever you are? Screw you. I got up at 7:23AM this morning with a smile on my face, I'm working through my languages review, it's coming into the wonderful fall season, I've got an aerobics class tonight with a friend, and I'm going out to buy two new pairs sexy-ass skinneh jeans sometime this week. Nothing can ruin my day. So screw you.

That pretty much sums up the next few days, so I'd like to tell you a little about last night. I watched a movie with the family (I Love You, Man for those of you who were wondering; it was a great movie, but the way; cute and funny) and I fell asleep at like 10:30PM which is a really good thing. I was able to enjoy a good deal of sleep during the night.

I mean, except for that one part where I woke up to singing.

Yeah, singing.

I have no idea what time it was since, for some reason, my clock was completely black, but it didn't matter. Basically, the singing woke me up and put me back to sleep. I really have no idea if it was a dream or not, and I don't care either. Was it weird? Yes. Possibly a dream? Yes. Was Kurt Cobain an alien from outer space or was he simply an amazing singer/lead guitarist for one of the greatest bands in the world? Who knows.

But I'm positive about one thing.

I'm going to look really damn good after these aerobics classes are up.

Have a nice morning, everyone. Merry part. (:

{start hardly important note}

Something is vitally wrong with not only my brain, my internet, and my ability to express patience, but now Blogger has failed me also! It's a most tragic thing when something that you post on one day shows up as something you posted the next day. I was forced to edit yesterday’s post to make it look like I wasn’t a day behind the rest of the world. Good gods.

If that make absolutely no sense, allow me to explain. Yesterday was the Full Moon, so I posted that last post yesterday. However, when I had two seconds to get onto the internet today to check my blog for mistakes...I found that what I had posted yesterday showed up as something that I had posted today. Which is completely absurd.

I have this strange feeling like someone out there wants me dead.

{/end hardly important note}

In other news, I still don't have that Linksys card.

In other other news, it's a wonderful day outside, so I may be going to a walk to clear my head of all this nonsense. Oh yeah, also I had off from school last week due to the camping trip, and I heard that publi schools in my area had gone back to school last Monday SO HAHA.

Sorry, Aily, but I'm a mean bee-otch and you had school when I didn't and it was so purdy outside so too bad sux2bu hahaha. Just kidding. (: I bet you had a wonderful first week of school.

To anyone else out there, I apologize for my abrasiveness. Sort of.

So the Full Moon was yesterday! I did a few minor rituals and spell-casting and I'm hoping some of them turn out to be successful. I woke up this morning pleased with myself; even my despicable excuse for an internet connection can’t get on my nerves today (well, not too much anyway…). I was a little wary about how I could have done the rituals without the Demonchild (brother) and the Dragonlady (mother) finding out. But as usual, I managed to figure something out. I always do.

In other news…Lies has actually moved forward a bit (roughly seven more pages), and I’m expecting about another couple chapters before it’s finished! Maybe my lack of patience for my neighbor’s internet has done some good after all.

Also, I promised y’all in the previous post that I would tell you a bit about the camping trip. So here’re a few things that I managed to rummage up from the depths of my subconscious.

It lasted four thousand years (Sunday thru Wednesday).

It was colder than Antarctica (roughly 60s the whole time).

There were enough trees to suffocate you (the forest=pwnage).

It smelled like burning flesh the whole time (more like fire and the great outdoors).

I was commanded to walk from Texas all the way to Canada before finally settling in New York (we did walk a lot, but hell – I lost a great deal of weight).

We were forced to sleep on rocks so numerous that there was hardly any ground at all (well…this one I can’t argue with; my neck is still really sore and I hurt in places that one should never hurt).

Other things to point out would perhaps be the fact that we stayed at a campsite the digits of which added up to 9, I heard whispering voices and scratching noises that freaked me the hell out, and we had ICE CREAM. Yes, ice cream. It was wonderful.

All in all, the trip was pretty fun, even though I’m not much of a camper. We also went to a lake, but I ended up only going in up to my ankles because it was so cold that I truly couldn’t move my feet. (Note to self: When standing in a lake of ice-water and flirting with a cute lifeguard, move feet constantly; otherwise, they stick to cold lake floor.)

We got back at half past midnight on Wednesday, and the moon was high in the sky. After a while of unpacking and another longer while of the ‘rents arguing up a storm, I fell into bed. It was 1:23am. Strangely enough, it didn’t bother me in the slightest. It’s like I’m used to it now.

But it’s really great to be back, and as soon as I get a normal people internet that doesn’t piss me off and works normally and doesn’t do not-normal things like shutting down without warning and erasing information that I have stored... *cough* Well, as soon as I get internet, this blog will be much more regular (regularer?), and I’ll be talking with my friends on AIM, Facebook, Myspace, and so forth.

Until then, I bid you all adieu, and hope you all had as pleasant a Full Moon as I did. (:

P.S. The squirrels in New York are like the Asians in Philly – they’re small, they travel in packs, and they look like they could kick your ass if need be. Note to self: Avoid New Yorker squirrel gangs.

NOTE: This post was actually written by moi last Saturday, but due to computer complications and certain camping trip serenading, I was unable to post it. But since I put a crapload of time and effort into this batch of complaining, I'm going to post it anyway. My next blog will most likely cover my camping trip, since I'm sure that uber long blog posts tend to frighten some people.

- - - - -

Either I am the most unlucky person alive, or Karma really wants to kick my ass.

This whole week has been really crappy and it’s starting to get on my nerves. I guess I owe you all an explanation. Let’s start from the beginning, shall we?

Monday: I knew it was going to be a bad week, because I woke up with the sheets on my bed literally trying to strangle me. I tripped a lot, and fell into a few walls (which really isn’t that much different than my normal life). Then I ended up getting almost no work done, so that hung over my head for the good part of the night.

Tuesday: Tuesday actually wasn’t too bad. I got up early, worked really hard, and ate a healthy breakfast of {insert something that sounds tastier than it actually is here}.

Wednesday: Oh, but WEDNESDAY. The shit really hit the fan on Wednesday. I told you all about the morning part of When-will-it-end-day, but the evening…the EVENING nearly killed me. Listen up – I was just barely finished recuperating from the morning practice that I wasn’t informed about, and then I went to my scrimmage. Luckily for the coach, she had actually told me about that. So I went, all suited up and in my hockey gear. I asked Coach Judge if I was playing in either the Varsity game or the Junior Varsity game and she – with a considerable amount of attitude, might I add – informed me that I could have been playing in either. A.K.A.: “You’ll sit through both games – two full hours of hockey – because I said you would. So ha, take that.” I figured that punching her in the face really wouldn’t get me anywhere but court, so I dealt with her bitchiness and sat with a few of my friends.

After the first game, I got my stuff together. For some reason, I was deluded enough to think that Couch Bitch would actually let me play. But I’m getting ahead of myself, as usual. When the second game began, there were only about five girls who hadn’t played much in the first game, and I was the only one who hadn’t played a single minute. So we all lined up and the Coach had the daring to say, “If some of you are wondering why you haven’t played yet, then you obviously haven’t been listening, because I’ve already seen the other coaches call names and they didn’t receive a response. It’s not the coach’s responsibility to make sure you all are paying attention.” At each pause for emphases, she looked directly at me with her beady little green eyes that I so badly wanted to stab out with a butter knife.

Bullshit. Fucking bullshit. There wasn’t a single second during that whole game that I wasn’t paying attention. I started ticking down the moments of Coach Judge’s life.

Despite the malicious fantasies of me causing Coach Bitch a lot of pain, I swallowed the Bullshit Pill and sat back down. “One more half,” I told myself, “she’ll put me in the last half. She will. If she doesn’t, I’m out. But she’ll put me in. She definitely will.”

Guess what? Yup. You guessed it. She didn’t. Apparently, I’d underestimated her level of stupidity.

Keeping my mental promise, I picked up my gear, and walked the hell off the field. I didn’t look back. Hell, I didn’t even go back, and I don’t intend to. That’s right; I quit field hockey. I’ve had enough of Judge’s shit, but apparently she hasn’t had enough of mine. My parents, my crazy-ass mother in particular, were livid. They’ve been plotting against Coach Bitch ever since.

Thursday: It gets worse? you’re wondering. Yes sir, it most certainly does. Some guy from Comcast cable came out yesterday to the house and knocked us off of Verizon. I lost my internet service and won’t be getting it back until I buy some sort of Linksys card for my computer. Until then, I’ll be sitting around, doing stuff-that-doesn’t-involve-my-nonexistent-internet.

Friday: In fact, yesterday things actually started looking up. I mean, it pissed rain, but I love the rain. Plus, I got to watch a movie instead of doing some schoolwork, so I was rather pleased.

- - - - -

As exciting as all that was, there’s more. I realize this is an incredibly long post, but it’s necessary…and I have no internet access so this is actually being typed up on Word. And I feel the need to inform all my loyal followers (both real and imaginary) of my several life adventures.
Okay, remember when I told you about the 1:23AM thing? Well, last Monday (the 24th), the beginning of one of the shittiest weeks in a long time, I actually woke up at 1:23AM. It started again, and on Tuesday and Wednesday…the same thing. Did all my bad luck have to do with 1:23AM? Is this going to happen anytime again soon? I don’t know the answers, and I’m not sure I want to find out. I’m not as scared as I was before, because – hey, at least I didn’t die, yah know?

Anyway, it may not mean anything, but it was at the end of Thursday (the 27th) that things started to appear better. 3x9=27? Who knows, anymore? All I know is that though this numerology stuff may be affecting my life, I’m not going to let it overrun my brain.

I mean, I’ve got enough shit on my plate right now.

I was in Philly today. It was filthy, and cramped, and altogether very innercityish (dibs, haha, I called it first). The people in the area were of the following variety:
1) Black people.
2) Puerto Ricans.
3) Asians.
4) Young white kids trying to be either 1, 2, or 3.
5) Crazy-looking old white people, probably on psychotropic meds.

Okay, first of all, we passed this huge area of town that was completely Korean. I'm talking, the store names were in Korean, the people were Korean, and the houses had these angry-looking signs plastered to the doors that were...well, in Korean. The whole time we were driving through it, I was hiding in the backseat of the car, waiting for the Korean mafia to leap out, screaming, and take us hostage. Who knows; they may have wanted to pin the whole North Korea/South Korea shit on us, the only white people in the whole area. Note to self: Never piss off an Asian.

Not to mention the white kids walking around with their pants around his (or her, yes, her) knees, the utility chains hanging around their necks, and the mock-licence-plates dangling from said chain. Then you have the crazy white women wandering around, with crazy hair, crazy eyes, and crazy lipstick smeared all over their faces. I'm sure that I saw one lady holding a dog leash as if she were walking a dog, but there was nothing attatched to the other end of the leash...

But all of this isn't even the important part.

The important part: I survived.

The other important part: I survived without being corrupted by the insanity of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. And I got to see family and some old friends of my mom's who were absolutely hilarious.

The other, other important part that is honestly too depressing to talk about: My poor great-great (-great?) Aunt Peggy is dying of cancer. Her room smelled like death, and I couldn't stay in there for too long without crying. It was odd. I hardly knew the woman when she was alive, but the thought of her passing on made me so emotional.

I hope this isn't some sort of phase. Because if it is, I am so having a word with the Head Honcho(s) of this dilly-o called lyf3.

Anyway, so ends my Philly adventure.

Earlier today, I was speaking to some of my friends from hockey. It was early in the morning, but the heat was already seeping into everything and blurring it all into a big jumble of color and noise. A small group of us was relaxing on the sidelines, guzzling water like it was going out of fashion (sorry Coach, but the whole "three sips" thing doesn't cut it), and yapping like there was no tomorrow.

Not far into our little mix of words and mumblings, someone mentioned something about an annoying younger sibling. Able to relate, I tuned into that part of the conversation. It was Alyssa.

"She kept whining and screaming at me, and it was starting to make me really pissed off, you know?" Alyssa complained.

A couple of the girls lazily muttered their assent.

"So, like, I just took my glock and I hit her with it."

I stopped listening at that point and narrowed my eyes. A glock? What would Alyssa be doing with a glock? Was she involved in something dangerous? Was she a bad person? Had she killed people?

I have no idea why I suddenly got to thinking all of this -- perhaps it was the heat -- but after a while, I plucked up the courage to ask Ayssa why she had a glock in the first place. Laughing, she quickly corrected me by saying that I'd heard wrong.

"A clock," Alyssa told me, as if I was five and not fifteen. "I said I hit her with my clock."

You know what I say to that? Bullshit. That's right.

I mean, a clock? Who hits someone with their clock? That makes even less sense than my theory.

Despite her obvious attempt to reassure me, I am not convinced. Alyssa is full of secrets and lies and I'm determined to descover the mystery of the glock.

Don't kill me. I know what you're thinking. "Is she crazy? Don't those advertisements that she constantly sees on T.V. and websites completely ruin her day? Doesn't she practically have a heartattack every time she catches a mere glimpse of a pop-up she didn't call for?" The answer to all of these questions is yes. But call me not a hypocrite for displaying this following advertisement, because it's for a perfectly good cause (not like those "feed the starving children" ads; I mean, yeah I don't want kids starving, but let's be honest. That money will never make it any further than the company's pocket).

My personal muse, Soul Twin, and bestie-best-best friend in the whole entire world has finally made her own blog. (: <--- hey, look, a smiley face.

Anyway, you can find her right about...here. Wait no, that's not it...here? Nuh-uh. OH! Found her. She's right here.

And just in case you missed that... The Psalms of Fahlia.

Aily, you crazy bee-otch, I luffers yew. {insert smiley face}

I've decided to use this blog as more than an outlet, but as a running record of certain things that appeal to me, frighten me, amuse me, make me want to kill someone, etc, etc. With this is mind, I've also come to the conclusion that I have weird-ass dreams, so they will be included here among the rest of this badly-written, astoundingly ridiculous, and highly intoxicating mess that I have bravely dared to label as my blog. Whatever I happen to remember from my dreams (which occur during REM [Rapid Eye Movement] sleep; you see? Biology does come in handy) will most likely be displayed here as soon as I am able to reach my computer. (That is not to say that I'm ever not able to reach my computer. I mean, if I couldn't reach it, I'd be taking some things up with the Boss (Wo)Man, because this computer is -- sadly -- my life.) This said, I would like to introduce you to a snippet of a dream I recalled when my mother so rudely woke me up at 6:30AM for my hockey practice. I don't remember much of it, but this one scene is very vivid in my mind...

~

We were standing on a dusty road, on either side of which there was sand. Sand and a few rocks. A few miles away, I could spot palm trees, but I figured it was a hallucination. Instinctively, I knew that there was no sign of life nearby, besides the silent, friendly man before me. I knew his name, knew that he wanted me to go somewhere with him. But I also knew that he was manipuative, and I knew that he was not to be trusted.

"Come on," the man said. He was tall, and had sand-colored hair and extremely dark eyes that one moment could look blue and the other could seem green or black. He could not have been more than four or five years older than I was, and I was aware that he was very familiar to me.

"Come on," he repeated. "Let's get out of here. We can hit up Alabama or somethin'."

"No," I coughed out before repeating it more firmly: "No. Look, I can't keep doing this. I need stability in my life. All this traveling...it's crazy. I love it; but it's crazy. I can't...not anymore."

The man frowned and said nothing, and then he disappeared into the dream and I woke up.

~

It's rather odd, but I can see the scene now, as clearly as I could see the old run-down church in one of my other dreams. It's so vivid that if I had the skills (which I most certainly do not *grumblegrumble*), I could draw it exactly as I see it now. I'm not sure what it means, and I could really use some help...

Any ideas?

Okay, so some really weird shit has been happening to me that has caused to...yes, I admit it...feel fear. Despite common opinion, I am -- in fact -- often weakened by feelings, and one of those feelings that I am certainly not proud of is fear. I'm afraid. There. I said it. Sue me.

Since I can't really tell anyone in person (they would think me insane), I feel the need to dedicate a post on here to the causes of this fear. This will mostly just be my excuse to vent about why the hell I -- Rowan, that crazy bitch who often seems completely emotionless -- am even afraid in the first place. So listen close. This is a once in a lifetime deal.


-->The Deal<--
Here's the deal: Weird shit is happening to me.
When?: Some strange things have always sort of occured, but I've almost always viewed them as coincidences. Lately, as in "since last month"-lately, things have been happening that I can't ignore, and I can't pawn off as coincidences.
Why?: That's what I'm trying to find out.
Whatthehellisgoingon?: Thank you for asking. Now I may begin.

I guess I should start with the numbers. On June 13th, 2009 (it was Monday), after finally managing to fall asleep at midnight, I woke up at exactly 1:23AM. On the following Tuesday, the same thing happened, and the same again on the Wednesday. I found this slightly odd, but thought little of it until, exactly three weeks later, on August 3rd, I woke up at exactly 1:23AM. The same thing happened on the following Tuesday and Wednesday. Since then, I've seen the numbers 3 and 9 (3x3) literally everywhere. This was indeed quite frightening, so I did some research on numerology.

-->The Numbers<--
Supposedly, the number 3 (which seems to be incredibly significant in most religions and spiritual occults) means several different things, some of which are listed below:


-Chinese say: 3 is a perfect number.
-Mayans say: the sacred number of woman.
-Egyptians say: the number of the cosmos.

In other cultures, and as a general rule of thumb, the number three is:
-universally significant
-the number of balance
-a symbol of harmony
-believed to encompass the attributes of both the number 1 (unity, simplicity, and agreement) and 2 (duality, complexity, and tension)
-a representative of opposites and the harmony between them

...and so on and so forth. Apparently, 3 is a very complex, yet simplified number. I don't understand the point of it, or why I'm seeing things in sets of three, but that is that.

-->The...Well, Just Read and Find Out<--
Now, I'll advance to the much creepier part...the part that you need to look at objectively, from my point of view as a completely sane individual. Because you need to keep that in mind as you read this: I am and have always been sane. That's what I tell myself. Therefore, you must tell yourself the same.

All right, a few oddities have stuck out over the past few weeks, but the strangest and most vivid of these "strangenesses" occurred this past Monday -- the 17th of August. I didn't mention it then because I was, frankly, very weirded out.

It was nighttime, I don't recall the exact time I realized what was happening, but I know it was late -- at least 10:30PM. In any case, it was late and my grandmother and mother were both in their beds, and my little brother, Declan, was in his room on his computer, I believe. (However, I was unaware of this final part until much later.)

I was sitting at my computer, typing away, chatting with friends, and listening briefly to the noises coming from the back room -- the game room that is on one side of my bedroom. At the time, I believed my brother was back there, watching television. I could hear sighing, and shifting on the couch, and creaking of the floorboards, and something that sounded like the faint hum of the T.V. "Oh," I thought to myself, hearing another irritated sigh erupt from the back room. "I want water." So I rose, and walked to the back room, wholly intending to make my poor little brother (*coughSLAVE?cough*) get me some water.

But when I peered around the doorway...

Yes. The room was completely empty. At that point, I could even feel a slight chill (though no air conditioning has ever reached that room since we moved in here a year ago -- it's like a god damn tropical island). But that could have simply been my imagination. Or maybe it was the fact that every ounce of blood in me suddenly froze.

Either way, that was quite obviously a very scary encounter. I remained the rest of the night wrapped in a blanket in the corner of my room farthest from the back room.

I may not be sure exactly what's going, or why strange things are happening to me, but I know that the most prominent thought in my mind then, besides the wild fear running rampant in my brain, was: gotta write about it now.

Last night I started a book -- the events of which were inspired by true events.

*insert scoff* That's a writer for you.

I haven't gotten a single bit of writing done since Friday. I'm beginning to think that I've got a serious problem. I know that writer's block doesn't actually exist (thanks to all ye who carelessly burst that bubble for me), but procrastination sure does, and I believe that it's seriously impeding me my duties as a (young, very young) writer. However, I'll be trying my best during the days to come to get my act together and put words into sentences, and get setences onto paper so I can move on with Lies. And the same with the other novels that are sitting in my Lost and Found bin. I've just got to...dive in. Here goes nothing.

In other news, I'll finally be getting to go see Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince! I've been waiting since Twilight for that damned movie to come out, and I'm definately going to see it tomorrow morning. Most likely with family. HP6 is yet another example of me being incompetant. Oh, what in the world can I do with myself? *insert dramatic sigh*

Well, it's nearly 1AM and I'm really, really, really tired, but here I am. I tried to write and managed about a thousand words. I was really aiming for 2k, but it'll have to do for tonight. In saying that, I also wish to mention that I dedicated most of that measley 1k of words to The Truth About Things That Matter, which is a really good thing. Even though I've been commissioned to complete Lies by March 5th (a birthday wish from a friend), I feel that I need to exercise my other outlets. All this vampire nonsense (I say the word fondly, because I love my Lies characters very dearly) gets to my head sometimes, and I feel that my brain requires a break from it.

However, being that as it may, it is still 1AM. Nearly all of my 1k was proably flawed and grammatically incorrect, but it will have to do until morning (though it'll probably be closer to afternoor when I wake up). Lovely morning (afternoon) when I can relax and work out the kinks and major flaws.

Anyway, I think that is enough for tonight, so I bid you adieu.

I just recently stumbled (literally) upon the notebook that I used during yesterday's "work hard" session, This was the session I illustrated in the previous post that included the psychotic screaming, and the music-playing, and the movie-watching. Since I didn't do any real writing yesterday, unless you consider the ramblings in said post "writing", I instead commenced to "writing" in this notebook. I had taken the Dictionary (it's capitalized because it's like my Bible, so back off, all ye Typo-Searchers) from the shelf upstairs, randomly chosen five words, and thrown together a brief plot summary as quickly as possible. Repeat, repeat. Here is the trilogy of plotlines I composed last night (WARNING: All three are probably hopelessly riddled with grammatical errors, but it was late, I was tired, they were each written in like five minutes, and well yeah, you'll have to live with it):

1) city, execute, sea, magistrate, parasite. Verdali City is a fantastical place by the shores of the shining sea of Malla. It is ruled by a Magistrate -- Massimer Dodds -- and his crew of Enforcers. The people fear Massimer and the Enforcers, because of the terrifying, strict laws that they create. The first and most important law is called the Parasite Law. It states that anyone who catches another person breaking any of the other laws or otherwise being a drag on society must turn them in immediately. The turned-in "parasite" will promptly be executed by the sea, in front of the whole of Verdali City, setting an example for anyone else considering the life of a "criminal".

2) nutrition, pathology, poison, light, evoke. A poison known (in layman's terms) as Virus is spreading rapidly across the face of the Planet. The effects of Virus aren't fully understood, but it is believed to have some sort of effect on the brain, making a person less curios, and therefore less apt to ask questions. A small group of pathologists get together in order to discover a nutrition to counter Virus. During their studies, one of the scientists accidentally evokes Light, a possible cure. But he and the others find that Light may be more difficut to control than they had first thought.

3) asthma, charismatic, cross of Lorraine, funeral, reflective. A small-town girl named Lorraine dies of an asthma attack at age sixteen. A charismatic teen by the name of Zander moves into the small town on the day of Lorraine's funeral. Beginng with a few of her personal possessions -- a cross of Lorraine (ironically) and a small hand mirror -- Zander enter the life of Lorraine. Abused by his lazy, drunked father and ignored by his distant mother, Zander finds refuge in the life of Lorraine and in the company of her family and friends.

There they are. They sound horrible right now, but one day they'll be longer, more awesome, and freakin' grammatically correct. Just you wait.

Sometimes I wonder where my head is.

I've been neglecting my duties as a writer. "I'll write more tomorrow" and "Oooh, one a.m. sounds like a good time to start", are not good habits of thought. I'll have to start planning out how many words I type a day if I'm going to get anywhere with this.

Anyway, I snuck onto my computer at eleven o'clock last night after a hard day's work. A hard day's work being six and a half hours of me screaming relentlessly at my homework, turning rock music on during Chemistry just so I could piss off my overlord mother, and then relaxing (stressfully) in front of the television while I watched an abnormally long movie.

But after all of that, I had some juice, cracked my fingers in a very badass manner (it hurt), and sat down at my computer to work on Lies.

An hour and a half later, this is what I had come up with:

{start colassal waste of time}

Character One hit Character Two with a salami.
Character Two cried for his mommy.
Character Three -- who is he??

The best defense is a good offence. So by offending you, I'm defending myself.

A BRIEF SUMMARAYY::: So, like, there was once this girl and, like, this hot guy. She thought he was soooo hot, but there was nothing she could do because, like, he was totally depressed and stuff. One day this other hot guy came along, and the girl was like, "Hey these guys are both really hot, I wonder which one I should choose." In the end, she chose both and ate them both whole. FIN.

Shut up, you don't know what you're talking about.

riting iz gud

Why is it Yes, Man and not Yes, Woman? Rascist. I mean, er, sexist.

Me: Okay, people, y'all better calm down, got it?
Cast of Lies: We get it.
Me: Good. I'd hate to have you all commit suicide.

CHARACTER THREE IS THE SALAMI!!!

{/end colassal waste of time}

I have no freaking idea what was in my orange juice last night, but I've made a few assumptions based on what I'm seeing.

1) I'm a huge procrastinator.
2) There is more to Lies than meets the eye.
3) No more oddly colored drinks after 3PM. It's water or nothing.

I saw these quotes and they made me smile(:

"Today, give a stranger one of your smiles. It might be the only sunshine he sees all day.”

“A smile costs nothing but gives much. It enriches those who receive without making poorer those who give. It takes but a moment, but the memory of it sometimes lasts forever. None is so rich or mighty that he cannot get along without it and none is so poor that he cannot be made rich by it. Yet a smile cannot be bought, begged, borrowed, or stolen, for it is something that is of no value to anyone until it is given away. Some people are too tired to give you a smile. Give them one of yours, as none needs a smile so much as he who has no more to give.”

All right, folks. I wrote this during one of my moments, so you'll have to excuse me if it makes you cry. Brace yourself.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately; I like thinking. It’s soothing, and usually leads to challenging or new ideas, which I – of course – adore. Recently, I’ve been wondering about the effect I have on people. Am I insignificant, or do I affect an influence upon other people? If it’s the latter, am I a positive or a negative influence? Maria P. says that “we unconsciously absorb each other’s energy, adopting the temperament of those with whom we share close quarters, and find ourselves changed after the briefest encounters.” If this is so, I truly hope that the changes I’ve made in my life have bettered the lives of those around me. Just thinking about these things has made me smile more often at strangers on the street, even those who appear to be too miserable to even want a smile.

Personally, when someone smiles at me, that simple fleeting gesture leaves a mark that is anything but evenescent. Thought I may not remember the faces of those who have offered me a smile or a brief “good morning”, I remember the act. In remembering, it makes me want to pass on that warm, fuzzy feeling to another person. I hope that by passing on the smile or the greeting, I have begun a chain link of events that lead to millions of people around the world giving and recieving smiles…

Perhaps it’s too much to ask; occassionally when I offer someone a smile, they glare back at me as if they would rather drop dead than smile back. But these people I merely pity. If they are so selfish that they don’t even have the intriguing urge to pass a smile on to a stranger, then they need all the smiles in the world. Because what better way to teach someone to do something than by immersing them in it?

Yesterday, while I was walking down the street by my house, I encountered one such person. I’m not sure who this man is, or why he is so miserable, but I see him nearly every day. And every single time I pass him, I smile at him and say “good morning/afternoon/evening”. He merely glares at me and scowls. Every single time. Except that yesterday, when I smiled at him, said my usual greeting and went to pass by him, I think I caught a glimpse of a hint of a grin on his face. I’d been working for weeks on that expression! Maybe it’s nothing major, maybe not enough to turn the techtonic plates, but it definately made my day and showed me that I do have an effect on people. I can change lives for the better, even if they don’t know I’m doing it!

I hope that man passes on his smile to someone else. I think everyone should offer a smile to at least two other people every day. If you do the math, the whole world could be smiling one day. (:

People ask me sometimes to babysit their children, nieces, younger brothers and sisters, etc, etc. And I always answer the same thing. "I don't like kids." They continue to pester me about it, all the way up until the point that I wonder whether or not homicide is really worth it.

But it does make me think. I mean, sometimes I just want to say to them, "Do I actually look like someone you want to leave your small children with?" I wonder how many people would say yes, and how many would vote no. The ones who said yes, I would automatically point them in the direction of the nearest clinic.

I can't remember a time when I actually wanted children, to be perfectly honest. Even when I was a little girl, I enjoyed dolls but I wasn't one of those little girls who think that there is such thing as getting married at age 18 to Prince Charming, having a thousand little baby girls, and living a long and illustrious life. That shit only existed in fairy tales, and I knew it even then. (I may have been an imaginative child, but I was sure as hell not a gullible one.)

Unfortunately, my teenage hormones are kicking in, and suddenly-- voila! I want a little girl. I haven't exactly told anyone yet, nor do I plan to; that would ruin my perfectly good reputation as a hard-hearted badass who dislikes kids.

But regardless of what happens in the long run, I think this just goes to show that opinions can literally change on a dime. With the right persuasion, of course.

Do you remember the good old days when you believed in Santa Claus? Big ole' white beard, rounded middle, red suit, rosy cheeks, and a rather jolly outlook on life? Yeah, that guy. I used to believe. I would argue with anyone who told me differently, and often the argument would turn to bickering and fighting, since neither of us had any real proof of either side.

Well, think about religion. Isn't that what people do in general? A Christian can believe his side all he wants, but if a devout Judaist comes along, the Christian isn't about to persuade the Jew without use of force, and most likely not even then. Religion is a powerful thing: it has been used to raise hopes in times of hardship, but it has also been used as a shield of protection by so-called "righteous" men who simply wanted to take their neighbor's land and needed a divine excuse to do it.

After yet another long digression, I return to my actual point, which really doesn't have anything to do with jolly old Saint Nicholas.

Last night, I had perhaps one of the most controversially disturbing dreams in all of my remembered dreams. I do not recall what events preceeded this strange incident, nor do I know what followed, but I do know that this one skit was enough to freak me the hell out.

In the dream, I was at the entrance of this tiny, old, beaten-down church. At the end of the rows, seven on either side, I could see a Mary statue; she was very old as well, her blue robe was fading and her white gown was yellowing. I walked toward her and kept walking and walking, until finally I came to a halt in front of her, and I fell to my knees. I looked up at the statue of the Virgin Mary -- she was covered with dirt and cobwebs and dust -- and asked her, in my mind, for the truth. Then I turned and looked out the window to my right, and to my surprise, the dark sky lit up for a brief time, only to be quickly smothered again by darkness. An immense pressure weighed on me and I felt something strong, a feeling that I couldn't depict, and then I fell asleep.

I woke up seconds later to the worst sound in the world: my mother's voice at 7:30AM on a summer morning. My own personal alarm clock. Yay me.

I'm not quite sure what the dream means, but all I know is that I've never conciously had a dream like it. And second of all, I would never ask this Mary figure for anything, because I'm not Christian. I asked my little brother about it, and as one may guess, he called me crazy and joked that I was some sort of prophet.

I asked my best friend (a Christian) about it, and you know what she said? That I should become a Christian. Yep. She tried to convert me because she doesn't want me to go to hell.

I appreciate the offer, hun, but I'm pretty sure that I don't want to be ushered into your little "in"-group. Thanks anyway, I think I'll stick to my idea.

It's really amazing sometimes. You can be the soul twin of someone...and then at the same time have differing opinions about what exactly to do with your soul.

The beginning of...what, exactly? I don't know. That's why I asked you. Well then, let's make some introductions, shall we?

My name is Rowan and I'm a recovering drug addict.

. . . . .

No, not really. Let's try this again.

My name is Rowan, and I'm a fifteen year old chica with mixed heritage (1/2 Irish, 1/4 French, 1/4 Native American, 100% clinically insane). I'm homeschooled and proud of it. I'm not your average I'm-homeschooled-therefore-I-grew-up-on-a-farm type of girl, nor am I your average I'm-homeschooled-and-I-rather-smell-like-old-cheese type of girl. Seriously. Some of them actually smell like old cheese. It's disgusting.

No, I'm not typically your average girl. Then again, who the hell is actually average? What is average anyway? Exactly. You don't know, I don't know, nobody knows. How can you measure average, when supposedly everyone's "unique"? Point in case.

Anyway, back from that little diversion...I was born just outside of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and we lived there until I was about three, and my little brother, Declan (who was born in Lancaster, Pennsylvania two years after me) was only a year old. He does all his crazy shizz here. Continuing with my little story...when I was about three, we moved to Ireland and resided there, in a tiny rent-a-house, for roughly five years while my father worked as a bar-tender, and my stay-at-home mom gave us the best she could. That was saying a lot at the time, because we weren't exactly living in riches. We traveled A LOT when we lived there. Just in those few years of staying, I'd gone to Wales, England, Finland, France, Greece, and even back to the States a few times. So in Ireland, I had lots of friends and I was probably one of the most pampered kids in our neighborhood and blah blah blah happily ever after, right?

Wrong.

When I was about eight or nine years old, we moved back to the States. I remember the weeks when we were packing up, because they were the weeks following September 11, 2001. I don't remember the attack very well, as we were in Ireland when it happened, but I do remeber how much I cried when we left. But that's beside the point. Point is, we moved back to the States.

The next few years were very...difficult on my whole family. My father got a job as a social worker in New Jersey, and my mom worked as one as well for a time. My brother and I stayed in my Grandmother's house in Philly, with her two-hundred-and-seven-thousand cats and her peanut-butter-and-Fluff sandwiches.

A couple months of that little...obstacle, and we moved into my great-grandmother's house in New Jersey. My brother and I went to a Catholic school there. It was a fairly good school. I'm guessing the people were okay, but obviously they weren't very prominent figures in my life, as I can't recall any of them.

When I was about eleven, my mom quit her job, my dad didn't, and my family migrated to a small, quiet area of Lancaster, PA. The education system was less than satisfactory (i.e.: if you didn't understand something, the teacher, seemingly being paid to do so, would reply, "I don't need to answer that; I already got my degree", and would point to that one sheet of paper on that wall that always made you want to throw food at it), and the people were simply a random jumble of ignorance and petty childishness. They were the kind of people who smelled vaguely of money and baby powder when they walked by, nose in the air.

I'm pretty sure that was when the problems arose. I became one pissed off kid, and I picked fights with a lot of people who made fun of me, or looked at me wrong, or simply rubbed me the wrong way. Unfortunately, I'm still living down my pathetic reputation as a badass Irish chic with anger management issues and who was usually carrying around abnormally large wooden objects with which to beat people. I'm not proud of it now. But I damn well used to be.

My mother decided to homeschool me a half a year through sixth grade, but my attitude didn't improve. Rather, I became more shallow, shy, and withdrawn. I spent most of my middle school years in lonely drudgery, and I was a big fan of wallowing in self-pity.

It was only last year, when we moved from the Lily White suburbs to the rather diverse and amazing city of Lancaster, that my attitude toward things began to change and I became the wonderful (*cough*) person that I am today. I am a proud, and rather outspoken, Wiccan, despite my mother's claims that I can't possibly know what I am, and I am an open-minded soul who generally wishes to argue. Note that I said "argue" and not "bicker". If you don't know the difference, I suggest you quickly find a dictionary and enlighten yourself. I'm a patriot of sorts, and consider myself a Republican, but I'm really on the side of whoever is AGAINST socialist reform, and on the SIDE OF whoever actually has America in mind rather than just their own personal gains. Besides politics, which I adore, I also love the colors purple and green, but that also varies every once in a while, usually with my mood. I'm a learning-freak, too, so watch out for my magical powers. I may actually teach you something new.

Furthermore, I would like to point out to everyone that I am a ninja, I can see in the dark with a nightlight on, and I am a huge fan of Colin Farrell.

My life hasn't exactly been an adventure so far, and I'm not exactly in the position to come into large sums of money that I can waste on recreation, so I guess I'll just have to wait and see where my imagination takes me!

~ r o w a n <3