Murderous in[Sanity]

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.